#my man was framed as the person wrongly

[stranger-theory]

are we gonna talk about how Lucas was the only main girlie in s1 to be played as overly aggressive, distrustful, and generally rude. like. i'm just saying.

[txemptress]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | 𝐁. 𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐊

— “𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘.”

Darkness. That's where you woke up in. A piece of rope was on your mouth to prevent you from screaming for help, while chains were on your wrists and ankles.

The place you were in was cold and damp, a place that screamed the words 'you've been kidnapped' to your mind.

A cold breeze came from an only opening high in ceiling. You had attempted to break free from the rope that bound your hands together, only for it to sting with pain. You were cautious to not make any noises or moans of pain for you had no clue who you could be dealing with.

As you were once again attempting to break free from the rope, you heard a faint click on the door. Freezing in fear, your optics fixated onto a tall frame by the door.

Whoever this person was you couldn't recognize their body, unless they came close for you to see at least. And they did exactly that.

A gasp escaped from you as the vision finally fixed on a pair of purple eyes.

Benjamin.

You, of course, knew about the male who was deemed one of the most attractive, but deadly men around this kingdom.

You contemplated on whether to face him directly or not, but you decided to go with the latter. Your eyes lowering away from the sight of the male's.

You heard a faint hum in response to your actions as he lifted your chin to face him. "I see you're finally awake." A low chuckle came from him as he noted your glare in response. "Come now darling, I think I've been kind enough to give you your own room."

Your body shudders against the mocking caress his fingers continuously give to you. Every part of you wanted to thrash out, to ruin him. But you couldn't. Weak and defeated, you speak in a quivering voice. "What do you want from me?"

The man cocks an eyebrow at that, a smirk plays on his lips. "I'm sure it's very obvious what I want, princess." The nickname made your expression harden, annoyance filled you completely.

"Do not call me that." You hiss, staring daggers at the man you wished would leave you alone.

"Why not, my beloved?" He muses mockingly, his fingers gripping your chin tighter than before. "It is an endearment I say best fits you. Don't you feel grateful? Do you not like it?" He asks tauntingly as though if you dare speak wrongly to him, there would be great consequences.

Body trembling, you are forced to lie. "I...I like it." Your voice is now a hushed murmur, unable to speak volumes more due to how terrifying he's being.

A grin comes from him as his fingers finally detach from your skin, leaving faint red marks in their wake. "That's a good girl, I trust you'll enjoy it further once I use it in bed." He says cheekily, implying you'd be in bed doing awfully vulgar things with him. Probably forced to do so too.

This is going to be hell.

[mumifyy]

Can I please request a Vox x Angel Female Reader?

Who just took Vox's Heart(Not literally ofcourse) with just a simple smile and wave

A/N: Ooo this is so cute 😭🙏 // also this is not proof-read!

————

VOX x ANGEL!F!READER

HEADCANNONS 💙

————

Originally, you had died giving away your life for your sickly mother and ended up in heaven.

Only months had passed when you were in Heaven until you were wrongly sent to hell cause someone had framed you.

You didn’t loose your halo nor wings so you had to hide them which was hard but you managed

While looking for a job in hell to actually live, you came across Vox walking down the opposite side of you

You didn’t really know who he was all you knew is that he was famous considering all of the paparazzi following him around (he’s enjoying tf outta it)

Vox’s face was stoic so you did your usual smile and wave and walked past him to be on your way

Unlike the paparazzi, Vox noticed your sweet smile and looked shocked, looking down at the paparazzi and shooing them away angrily before looking at your now disappeared figure.

He was bummed of course but brushed it off as a fan girl

Except he thought about you every once in a while

How could anybody IN HELL smile and wave????

He only saw that on earth?

That’s when he started to look for you on the cameras

Everytime he saw you in the cameras he blushed like crazy

Vox wondered why such an angelic person like you ended up in hell

So when you came into his building asking for work he instantly put you as his personal assistant

You barely worked only just getting him coffee and staying by his side

You didn’t mind working like that for a shit ton of cash coming your way

Not like you needed it badly

But you enjoyed it

You soon came to love being around him

You knew he was dangerous but you didn’t care

After a while you guys started going on outings

He paid for everything and was an absolute gentleman for you

But in the inside was gushing over how pretty you looked in your sundress

After a a couple months or so he starting to court you

Giving you flowers and more hugs then usual

And finally after a week of him doing this

He asked you out and you both had a great time

Soon also asking you to be his girlfriend

You said yes ofc (I hope so cause why you reading this if no 🤨)

————

General head cannons lols

Vox definitely flirts with you behind doors

And in public

Gives you flowers every now and then

Whenever he’s working, you’ll just come in there and give him your cookies you had just baked and give him a kiss and leave

You wouldn’t even be able to cause now your on his lap feeding him the cookies you made

He LOVES making you flustered

Definitely smacks your ass just randomly

Will sometimes just kiss you on the cheeks and gush over you

*ssmooochhhh*

“Jesus fuck babe I love you I can’t even get enough of you”

LOVES spooning you

Tells you he hates it when you dot on him but loves it secretly and you know it

Definitely sleeps with the ‘V’ logo on his screen like the DVD thingy

THISSSS ^^^

Whenever your on your period he’ll cancel most the stuff he has to do for work and comfort you the best he can

WILL invite you to some podcasts

And will show you off like

“This is my girlfriend, the best girlfriend, the most BEAUTIFUL girlfriend, and I love her.”

“and y’all can’t have her.”

“Losers”

While sometimes bury his face in your chest after a long day

Is an ass man 🙏

He’s prolly both actually Ngl..

More of an ass man though :P

Will do skincare with you (he was forced)

“Babe what’s the point of doing this when my head is a TV???”

“Oh yeah…. I forgot about that”

“Doofus”

“I’m gonna change your channel-“

You: *puts on any kind of chapstick or lip product*

Vox: “what’s the flavor?”

Before you can even answer he kisses you

Vox: “mmmm Vanilla”

He loves Vanilla and coffee

Or lavender

If you where any perfume like it he’ll just *SNNNNIIIIIIIFFFFFFF*

“Mm.. you smell” *sniffs your neck* “so good what are you wearing??”

WILL spoil tf outta you

Like YOU HAVE ENOUGH MAKEUP JESUS

Loves when you make any kind of handmade gift

It’s better than any kind of store bought gift

Like the TikTok’s of the handmade cards of just TONS of reasons why you love him

He would gush and hug you <3

[anteroom-of-death]

When We Meet Again, part 1

Synopsis: A new teacher at Roundview has to deal with her first Parent's Night. She meets a man that has quite the large amount of baggage and gossip around him.

a/n: a fic! From me?? Nah son. Thats crazy. Multi-chapter love for this man coming tho. Slowly. One day. Love you alllllllll.

Parent’s Night, the bane of any teacher’s existence. Truly a hell on Earth, between those parents that thought your job was just to babysit and those that were willfully ignorant about their children’s behavior in school, you couldn’t take it.

At least those were miles better than the ones that took their children’s academic prowess as a mark of their own success.

The student who’s father was coming in now, the mother eloped with some German man, was named Sid. Your heart went out to him. Really. His home life was in shambles. Said father was recently in hospital for something about his heart.

Local gossip mills and the teacher’s lounge still shattered with the grips of poor Sid’s tragic, dramatic home life.

You’d be a bit more supportive if it was only that; his home life.

Sid seemed to be intent on dragging everyone else in the school with him, however. Hopeless, truly.

What a time to get into teaching!

The man wobbled in, he wasn’t unattractive. The mother was insane for running off. You marked the whole explosive thing as probably personality-based. That’s why people cheated in mostly. Personality and boredom. Usually, appearances had seldom to do with cheating. Super models got cheated on all the time…

Maybe he inherited his father’s personality?

You suddenly didn’t fault the mother.

His eyes seemed perpetually wet as he sat down across from you. They were lovely. Not quite blue, not quite green, grey and gold flecks throughout, rimmed with an exhausted red line. The sudden locked contact of them shot through your core. Framed with lush, arched brows and pretty little lashes…

“My wee boy, how’s he been?” The man; Mark, according to your records asked. It was earnest. “I’ve been trying my best to get his grades up.” He swallowed as you caught a glimpse of the scar from surgery under his wrinkled, wrongly-buttoned shirt.

You swallowed back. He seemed gravely concerned, with genuine love for Sid bubbling forward. The way he asked seemed so gut-wrenchingly genuine and paternal concern that broached towards reverent.

Definitely not inherited personality faults from him, you walked back your previous guess.

“Not good, his grades continue to slip. He keeps moping about some girl named Cassie. I keep telling the school councilor to get involved. He seems unreachable.” You went for brutal honesty. A man who was briefly declared dead would appreciate that, right?

He let a few choice words. It felt well-suited. Duly earned.

You felt for him truly…

Leaning forward, you laid out a sympathetic hand on the man…

“He’s nearly catatonic. It might not be a matter of skills.” You reasoned. “He has gone a through a lot…maybe try to get him in for a psych eval?” You tried to give seasoned advice and speak from what little experience you had.

He sighed.

“Just tell me what to do.” Mark resigned himself into a self-conscious slouch. “He has to do better in life than me or even his grandfather did.” He seemed content to all but hover above the surface of the desk.

Definitely not personality-based cheating, you thought as you rolled back your previous observation. Unless this was a new personality based on his health scare and Sid driving him to his limit.

Oh well, so much for gossip-based psychology!

You put a caring, cautious hand on his shoulder. (Bony, yet firm you remarked.) He was close to breaking into tears. It wasn’t fair.

“He’s already got a good support system in you and what the school administration can provide. Get him the mental health care he needs. It may not be a perfect fix, but it’ll help.” You felt yourself rubbing soothing circles into this near-perfect stranger’s upper back.

His back felt almost muscular. Thin, oddly spaced out. But firm. Just like his shoulders.

It wasn’t all that bad to touch.

Something overtook you as you produced a post-it and wrote your number down. It was a bad, possibly sideways move. Definitely not in the teacher’s handbook.

You shook yourself. You just didn’t want to see this man fall into disarray further because of his son. The boy was this close to falling through the cracks completely. People usually inherited their mental health struggles from their parents…

Nothing else. Clearly not a sudden desire to see this man again.

“Why don’t we meet up outside for a coffee and we can discuss this somewhere cheerier?” You slid it forward. “Ring me on there and we’ll chat, hopefully somewhere with outdoor seating.” You laughed a small laugh as of to diffuse the situation and show your metaphorical belly.

“Aye. That’ll do.” He took the post-it and slid it into his jeans pocket.

“I know you cannae waste all your time on me. You’ve got parents queuing up for miles.” He said as he got up and shuffled clumsily to the door.

You went back to your notes about said meeting as some other kid’s parents trotted in.

You couldn’t wait for your coffee date.

Or whatever it was.

Definitely not a date!

[jotunvali02]

Playing Turnabout Goodbyes, part "I don't remember which one, I've stopped counting"

And in the series of "Phoenix Wright rushes to the culprit shouting You're the culprit! while shoving the only evidence in their face", here is episode 3!!

And in the series of "Phoenix and Maya are almost brutally killed by people present in court the next day", here is episode 2!

Maya, stop!!😭 Stop saying you're useless!! 😭

You're as much as competent as Phoenix, if not more than him while you have no law training at all!!

And it's it's Fee-Fee who totally fucked up here, not you! Don't feel guilty for Feenie's klutzy incompetence!!

Both her and Edgey need a forehead kiss. From Fee-Fee of course.

Yes! The parrot!🦜

Wait , the fiancee killed herself after Yogi's arrestation? Like even before his judgement? Another character with heavy mental issues.

Karma... you don't have any grand-daughter. And your dog is Miles' dog.

Bitch.

"Acting for 15 years" Huh, that reminds me of a person OTHER than Mister jerk-Yogi!

"I lost everything."

Uh! Did YOU lost your fucking father, being attacked then killed in front of you?? Were YOU fucking NINE back then????

Have your "revenge" on a fucking 9 years-old boy??? A boy YOU traumatized?? What's your fucking problem??? And you "have no regrets"??

Fuck off. Really, fuck off.

Hope your parrot fiancée eat you alive. Parrot you cowardly abandoned to starve to save your ass!! Gives a window of how you probaly treated your actual fiancée and why she fucking killed herself after just your arrestation without even asking questions first or trying to get you freed first.

"Why don't you ask Mister Edgeworth yourself?"

FUCK. YOU!! You should kill yourself as a fucking MINIMAL amend!

He was 9!! Fucking 9!!!! And you have NO fucking recollection of what exactly happened either!! You can't be sure he killed his own father just like it wasn't sure you did it!

Like, you resent a motherfucking traumatized (by YOU) CHILD for not saying to a motherfucking LAW COURT "hey, I think I maybe killed my dad"???

And WHY would he, would ANYONE, have believed that while YOU attacked his father in that fucking elevator in front of him???

You have no fucking shame, no fucking sense, no fucking heart and no fucking self-respect! Your fiancée would kill you and then herself again if she heard you talk so much shit!! I bet my head you're partly responsible for her shitty mental health and that you blamed her when you behaved shittily with her!

I mean, come on! A heartless and self-centered motherfucker like that who blames a fucking CHILD for everything that's wrong in his life while EVERYTHING FROM THE BEGINNING IS ACTUALLY HIS FAULT (Miles wouldn't have thrown a fucking gun at him and MAYBE Karma wouldn't have killed Gregory and then put you in shit if YOU hadn't fucking ASSAULTED a man who did nothing wrong to you!!) just CAN'T be a loving or a healthy life partner!!

So don't go blaming, killing and framing attorneys who saved your ass (wrongly) and a fucking little boy YOU scarred for life for YOUR fucking, smelly, pukey, shitty fuck-ups!!

I swear, if Yogi was real and in front of me, I would kill him myself!! Brutally and savagely!!

I really hope Daddy Gumshoe thought the same and fucking BROKE his bones and SNAPPED his motherfucking neck after hearing so much shameless evil shit!

Like THAT:

and I swear, I'm geniunely crying now.

No, no! Edgey, you just...

can't think the murder of Hammond is your fault! or that you deserved such a shitty treatment from a bitter self-absorbed motherfucker who blames and takes it out on children for HIS own bullshitty doings!!

Now I think of it, it really was stupid from you to accept a shady invitation in the middle of the night, in the middle of a foggy lake from a guy who made hate defense attroneys and so your dreams. That really was a stupid decision.

"I deserve to be punished." NO!! THAT'S NOT TRUE!!

NOOOO!!! 😭💔💔💔

What you deserve is a slap to bring you some sense, a kiss from Fee-Fee and a warm group hug!!

😭💞💞

[toastyliltoasts]

Im so done with life.

First of all, Shelby needs all the support she deserves. No one should have to go through that and its absolute shit she had to. Now, I've never watched her streams but she genuinely seems like a nice person. She didnt deserve to be treated like how she was. I dont think I would've ever considered biting as physical abuse until she explained how fucked up that was.

Someone close to me has been subjected to horrible financial abuse, where they would have to pay for every single thing whether it's for them or the person forcing them to buy it. So I know, as a bystander, how awful that is, being treated like a personal atm machine or atleast know how frustrating it is to see it. It hurts to see how their entire being, to the abuser, is nothing but a vessel earning money to be spent on things non beneficial to them. Shelby, or anyone in that fact, should never be treated as such.

And its seriously messed up how people try their absolute hardest to find who the abuser is, rather than supporting Shelby through this and giving her the praise she deserves for standing up for herself and being brave enough to open up about this. Abuse is not something easy to talk about when you've experienced it.

Secondly, without further evidence, its not right to point fingers. Yes, Wilbur bites a lot and yes, he has rat infestation and mold in his household. He could be the said abuser and there's every chance he's being absolutely wrongly accused and Twitter, as it always has been, is incorrect and complete shit. So without defending Wilbur or accusing him, it'd be best to stay neutral on the whole topic until further confirmation.

This isnt about me, or us as a whole, but that man helped me through a lot. He's been a huge support through the shitty quality of a screen. So thinking about how it could be him makes me sick to my stomach. But wrongly accusing him of things he's been possibly framed for is equally, if not more, sickening. He has faced shitty mental health and is now on break for the same damn reason. He's said multiple times before that he was an awful person and he's trying to better himself. And accusing him of such horrid acts, whether he has done them or not, is not gonna change anything. Give everyone some time, they need it.

Until actual confirmation, Shelby needs genuine support, however much she may need. And I will not stop writing for Wilbur until it is actually confirmed, not just accusations but solid confirmation, because he is a huge comfort for me and a lot of other people. Go support Shelby because of her courage and stop making a person with poor mental health be more mentally ill. Im not one to use tags so people can see my posts unless its an actual fic but I think this needs to be, even in the slightest bit, heard because you all are making everyone and everything worse.

[marley-manson]

☕️ beejhawk don't work as a pairing post war

Thank you! lol agreed, at least for me personally, the way I view the characters and their relationship.

The rest of this is under a cut to spare my beejhawk followers the negativity

For me they're a perfect weird messy sad fling, but I can't see them living happily ever after, and I don't particularly want to.

I don't think Hawkeye would be happy with BJ longterm. BJ's issues that cause problems between them don't strike me as a war-zone thing, or a gay repression thing. They strike me as a BJ thing. The classic passive aggressive lashing out in Wheelers and Dealers, the hypocritical disparaging of Hawkeye's emotional reponses in episodes like Rally Round the Flagg and Back Pay, the needling in No Laughing Matter or Dear Uncle Abdul, the resentment in Heroes or Joker is Wild, these all strike me not as flaws that manifested during the war or the result of repression, but rather signs of insecurity. I see BJ as someone who lashes out at others to make himself feel better and sometimes superior, both textually through the pranks ("taking your frustrations out on other people. You know, good, clean American fun") and less overtly through his condescension and like, negging lol.

And since we're in BJ/Hawkeye headcanon territory here anyway I'll go a step further and add that I also find it easy to imagine BJ as kind of ironically seeing a relationship between him and Hawkeye the way a lot of the fandom sees it, but yk, wrongly: positioning himself as Hawkeye's saviour, the rational, solid, long-suffering support propping the irrational, insecure, damaged Hawkeye up and saving him from himself. He'd frame it like that to help himself deny all the ways he's fucked up and traumatized himself, and, like in the show, he'd fail to actually be the kind of emotionally open partner who can engage with Hawkeye on his own terms, rather than projecting his own misapprehensions onto Hawkeye.

(I also don't think he'd cope too well with being with a fellow surgeon. I can't see BJ easily throwing off the heteronormativity even after coming out, and having a partner who works as much as he does would drive him up the wall. Which could be a very interesting layer if he goes to Maine while Hawkeye's still on sabbatical and has time to play house, until Hawkeye gets his drive back and wants to return to surgery...)

And I just don't see Hawkeye as emotionally attached enough to put up with these issues for long when he has other options. Over the course of the show we see him getting a little more distanced from BJ and relying on others for support and emotional connection instead of him, like Mulcahy in Letters or Margaret in Stars and Stripes or Charles in Sons and Bowlers. He tries to support BJ in Bombshells but leaves when BJ waves him off and the emotional distance between them there is palpable. Hawkeye accepts that their close friendship is functionally over now that the war is over which is why he wants BJ to say goodbye in GFA. He'll miss him and he's glad he was there with him in Hell, but he'll move on. He's the kind of guy who makes friends and forms relationships very easily, I can't imagine him pining for BJ and waiting for him.

If BJ did go to Maine and sweep Hawkeye off his feet with a declaration of love shortly after the war, and honestly I could see that lol, I think they'd last a few months at best.

That's just how I see their dynamic, ofc. I enjoy emphasizing the flaws. But the usual alternative, that BJ really is a great supportive partner and they slowly but steadily recover from the trauma of war together and live happily ever after, bores me to tears lol. It's possible, maybe BJ does get his shit together with the war behind him and having embraced his true sexuality, and maybe they fall into that season 5-ish happy partners vibe. But man that's just not for me, I find their chemistry and dynamic unspeakably boring without the relationship-breaking strife.

send me controversial or unpopular opinions and I’ll tell you if I agree or disagree 🐸 ☕️

[karmic-vibes]

Two of Us

4 - Not Arriving, On Our Way Back Home

cw: implied mentions of rape

1987

Eddie ran down the stairs, wrapping the teenager in a warm embrace. Tears were brought to everyone’s eyes, Will excluded, as they saw the man who had been dead for over a year standing before them. Dustin was sobbing into Eddie’s chest, seemingly never wanting to let him go.

“I thought you died,” Dustin cried.

“Well, I didn’t, little man.”

“How, uh… how?” Steve bumbled.

“I don’t even fully know, man.” Eddie broke away from Dustin and quickly embraced Steve.

“I can try to explain it. Well, explain what I know. So, I don’t know how he got back from wherever the hell you guys were, but I was still in California with my daughter, and I got a call saying a family member of mine in Hawkins was in the hospital as a John Doe. His face was all bloody and distorted, his body was all chewed up… the only reason they knew he was related to me was because they did some blood-typing and matched him to my blood. Thankfully, they already had me in the system from when I gave birth.”

“How did he immediately not get arrested?” Dustin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie was wanted for murder.”

“Oh, that—yeah, we didn’t use his real name.”

“What?” Steve hummed.

“Do I have to spell everything out for you guys? God. I called our uncle and told him to claim Eddie as his son, not his nephew. We told the hospital staff that his name was Joseph Munson.”

“Perks of having a generic middle name,” Eddie chuckled.

“That’s something I’ll literally never forgive pops for. Fucking ‘Claire Josephine Munson’ absolutely stupid.”

“I like it,” Robin shrugged.

“Well, you’d be the first. Our dad just needed us to have similar names because we’re twins. Mom thought it was asinine, but she agreed to giving us similar middle names—Joseph and Josephine. But, uh, yeah… when he got better, he was released into Wayne’s care, but Eddie had too much PTSD from the trailer, so now he’s here with me.”

“Well, that explains the buzzed head.”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie sighed as he rubbed his shaven head. “I keep trying to convince Claire to let me grow it out again, but-”

“I told you, for the millionth time, I’m not going to prison for harboring a wanted ‘criminal’—even if you were wrongly accused, they don’t give a shit. The fucking hair stays short.”

“They already declared me dead, so not like it matters much.”

“He’s right,” Robin said.

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“If he was declared dead, and there’s a death certificate, then you’re no longer a wanted criminal. All charges become null and void when the person charged dies.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah! I’m growing my hair out again!” Eddie laughed as he stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“I literally hate you.”

“Awe, c’mon, you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, “I’m happy for you, stupid.”

“Mommy?” the little one whispered.

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“My homework is all done. Can you please check it for me?”

“Yeah, of course. Excuse me, guys.” Claire walked off to the dining room table with her daughter, going over the grade-school work.

“So, Munson, you’re a free-man—what are you gonna do?” Steve asked.

“Get my band back together, duh.”

“Really?” Dustin raised a brow, “not graduate?”

“Actually Henderson…” Eddie ran upstairs to his room, returning shortly after with a framed piece of paper. “Turns out, dying’s got some perks.” Eddie smiled proudly as he presented his (honorary) high school diploma to everyone.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes, fucking way! What’d I tell you, huh? ’86, baby… my fucking year.”

“Proud of you, man,” Steve said.

“Thanks, big boy.”

“Why do both you and your sister call me that? I-I mean, what’s the point?”

“To see you get flustered,” Claire smirked, “oh, Eddie, Edie’s ready for her lessons.”

“That’s my cue.”

“No way you named your daughter ‘Edie’,” Steve said.

“Only after the best,” Eddie smiled proudly.

“But… why?”

“I almost sorta died during labor. Eddie gave me a pep talk and never left my side until I woke up… as a thank you, I agreed to name my kid after him.”

“And her father didn’t have an issue with that?” Steve asked.

“He, uh… he doesn’t even know she exists.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be. You of all people, don’t be.”

“Why me of all people?” Steve raised a brow and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, Claire,” Eddie started, “why him of all people?”

“Don’t you have a guitar lesson to be giving a five-year-old?”

“But-”

“Go before she gets angry. She’s fucking terrifying when she’s angry.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighed.

He walked off to the dining room to collect his niece for her daily guitar lesson. The two made their way into the basement, that Claire had professionally soundproofed, and would then be missing for the better part of an hour.

“That little thing gets angry?” Robin pointed.

“It’s far and few between, but yeah, and I swear, you see your life flash before your eyes every time it happens.”

“So, Claire,” Steve interjected, “why me of all people?”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to hate me.”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged.

“I was already pregnant when I slept with you.”

“Okay? And that matters because?”

“I was trying to use you as a scapegoat…”

“Are you fucking serious!” he yelled, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped! I was barely fifteen and fucking terrified, can you blame me?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten knocked up, then! Or-Or at least know who the fucking dad is instead of trying to ruin someone else’s life!”

Claire stood in her home in disbelief. Her jaw hung slack as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Her chest became heavy as the air around her suddenly became thick. She struggled to breathe. Her cheeks heated up in anger and embarrassment—it took everything in her not to scream.

“Get out of my house,” she eventually whispered.

“Claire-” Dustin started.

“All of you, out!”

“What? Can’t eat what you serve? Y-You know, I was super excited to see you, to reconnect and hopefully build something here, but now all I see is a massive bullet I dodged.”

“I know who the dad is, asshole…” Claire spat, holding back tears. “I just didn’t want it to be him… I would have taken anyone, but him… I wanted my daughter to have a father because I didn’t want her to grow up like me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him again. I didn’t want, and honestly still can’t, tell Edie who her dad is… not because I don’t know, but because I think it would physically kill me to see him again.”

“Then why did you ever date him?” Dustin asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Okay, then why sleep with him?”

Claire sniffed as she pursed her lips and quickly wiped away a tear that fell from her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she anxiously tapped her foot and looked to the floor.

Her voice broke, “who ever said I wanted to?”

[rjtaylor]

VISIT TO THE TATE MODERN

PIECE 1: 

There were 4 black and white Photo portraits with a naked man’s body in 4 different poses and costumes. It made me reflect on my own body and left me feeling vulnerable with the subject of the photos, even with my clothes on. The photos were taken as “an aggressive assertation of sex positiveness.” The artist (who modelled for the pictures himself) posed in classical postures of ballet, having taken the images at the height of the AIDs epidemic, the poses helped to further reach the goal of “challenging the policing of the queer black body.”  

PIECE 2: 

The room has ornamental decoration all around it and in the centre of the room is a table set for tea with two chairs sitting across from one another. The artist wanted to reflect on the links between the UK and colonialised India and the role that drinking tea plays in each country, I think that the artist did well executing this as I felt comforted by the installation as it felt like a familiar space that I had been in before. When not an installation in the Tate Modern, it’s a performance, where the artist holds one-to-one conversations with another person, offering them a cup of tea she has grown and prepared herself. From there they will discuss, over tea, the impact that Britain’s colonialism and imperialism had on South Asia.  

PIECE 3: 

The art installation was 3 big bells hung with rope from wooden beams that were leant against iron bars. The installation made me feel overwhelmed as size of the installation and knowing how loud of a noise the bells could make. When looking into it, the artist wished to reflect on the impact of the church in European countries, using the bells to signify the everyday presence of religion in rural towns. With the bells now tied up they are silent but will always hold the power to ring again. Artist quote: “Bells represent language, a magnified human – and the enthusiastic roar of liberation.”  

PIECE 4: 

The painting is of a woman’s body with a helmet to the left of her, at the centre of the silhouette there is a zip opened revealing a woman’s naked body underneath. The painting is a depiction of the soviet cosmonaut, Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space. The artist decided to paint such a soft erotic image of her as a way to comment on her although being a feminist heroine, never really escaping the sexualised figure that she is, being a woman. The Artist’s work ahs been considered a ‘sexual revolution in art;’ combatting gender discrimination making a link between women’s political, social freedom and sexuality.  

PIECE 5: 

40 International article clippings, printed and framed, hung up alongside on another. The articles are some of the summaries of the first attacks when the Argentinian Videla military junta (a military dictatoship) came into power. Although an incomplete summary the articles give some insight into the otherwise censored time in Argentina. These articles were able to slip through the cracks and could explain the wrongly accused and secretly murdered, the crimes discussed are limited but to give some explanation into the wrongs committed by the FFAA in Argentina in 1976. The title of the installation comes from the statement made from those who were justifying the military at the time, stating ‘It will be for something’ an expression that was later replaced with ‘we did not know.’  

PIECE 6: 

A detailed illustration depicting people going around a maypole, with a person at the top of the pole, titled at the bottom ‘THE WORKER’S MAYPOLE’. The artist took inpiration from Walter Crane’s pieces of work from the socialist magazine The Clarion in 1894. The installation was done with permenant marker and drawn onto pieces of collated cardboar, to draw reference to the common materials used in protests by political activists to construct placards. The artist changed some of the slogans of Walter Crane’s work to better reflect the political issues we face today, ‘Adult Suffrage’ becomes ‘Equal Pay’ and ‘Neither Riches Nor Poverty’ becomes ‘Healthcare is a Human Right’. 

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Hitman (No, not the game franchise.)

You know that trope where big quiet scary Hitman man who is known for being so skilled and heartless that you need him to at least tolerate you first before placing a hit. Or else he would just straight up kill you when he thinks you're mildly impolite.

Yeah that AND you, the reader, as the only soft spot for BQSHMM (Big Quiet Scary Hitman Man).

No don't give me flak about how this is just a bootleg of [Insert similar character here] because you are wrong, this is inspired by every Stoic and Brooding Contract Killer Character Ever and Batman even though I have never watched any movies or read any comics about him.

All I know that he :

Rich

An orphan

Can punch

Quiet

Does parkour

Hot buff nerd with all 20/20 vision

Acted by Christian Bale at least once

Have a family of other bat millennials and bat gen z's

Hates clowns

Wear smudged eyeliner

fast car

Cool belt

I get my sources from tumblr, occasional memes and snippets of batman conversation I happen to be in. I don't know if they are canon or not.

And also actually heavily inspired by the Korean movie Door Lock (2018) , except in this fic you're the ONLY victim <3

And this fic is just something to make your pussy or bussy or nonbinarussy throb, nothing too serious. Goes without saying, don't do this shit irl.

Enjoy.

Tw: AFAB reader, yandereness, violence, sex things, non con, somno oral, basically smut

(pt 1 out of 2)

You don't know squat about the underworld. Naive, innocent little you, still thinking that the black market is like a farmer's market except the vendors are selling not-so-legal-or-Farmer-y stuff such as... Oh, I don't know, like... Unpasteurized Milk?

You never once dabbled anything remotely legally dark, not even jaywalking. You are a law abiding citizen, following all the rules to a "T".

Oh, the Irony. You caught the eye of a person who kills people for a living. And that is highly illegal. Probably more illegal than Jaywalking.

He is lean and muscular with a large frame. Yet, so stealthy like a fucking cat that can squeeze through a dime sized hole with no noise and no complaint. Face, hands and basically vulnerable parts of his body like the neck are scarred from previous missions.

Stare into his eyes and you will see a void. All humanity has been scraped clean, who gives a shit if granny falls to her death in front of him? He doesn't see her as human or animal, simply something invaluable. At most, he's going to be slightly irritated that her blood got onto his coat and he is running out of peroxide.

No one catcalls you anymore. They're all dead or silenced in his own, crazy, silly way. Like getting their tongues cut off, or getting lobotomized (and miraculously surviving) to get the point across to everyone in the overworld and the underworld.

He is like what Santa is to kids in the 60's, he watches you 24/7. Knows if you've been good or bad. He could be watching you from a roof, using his rifle scope . And using his sniper rifle if he sees a threat.

Fresh syndicate criminals sees you as meat, a leverage to control the world's more notorious assassin. Seasoned ones know to stay the fuck away from you. Veterans know to not even think about or look at you. Your Hitman stalker is like a bloodhound for things that threatens your safety, as soon as anyone looks at you wrongly, it's bedtime forever.

It doesn't even take a look. He just knows if you're thinking about it. Actually, he takes no chances, everyone he doesn't trust is dead. That includes just about everyone he meets. Really puts the fear in the hearts of huge crime rings when he managed to leave the decapitated heads of their best men on the doorstep of their supposedly 'unknown' and 'unidentified' and 'anonymous' leaders.

From there, no matter how many of their members he kills off or WHO he kills off...gangs, mafias, crime syndicates and corporations knew not to go after him OR you. It's just not worth it, they're better off just cutting their losses and advising their members to steer clear at all costs.

This one man band is so scary that he gains protection somehow. Why?

Well, imagine this:

A rookie hitman decided to execute the most foolish task and try killing him.

So the rookie gets captured as expected and gets tortured.

Rookie says Mafia X sent him.

The entirety of Mafia X is going to disappear in a week unless someone can give Big Scary Gary Stu Hitman OC an explanation, saying Mafia Y framed them.

Then Mafia Y will be in deep shit. Provided Mafia X managed to convince them or else BOTH X and Y will get fucking nuked to bits.

But hey, business is good on his side. He's everyone's default hitman to go to (if you have the money), because it's almost always a 300% success rate.

Why 300%? It's because he's going to kill the intended target (and their entire family), the one who paid him and a person who is at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hmm. Maybe the guaranteed death of the customer isn't good for business. As long as you follow the rule of thumb:

Don't be a dick.

Then you should have a pretty good success rate. Maybe.

You really can't tell.

Make a comment about his only joy in this world, which is you, the reader, and you're (not the reader) is getting instant death. It's like saying Voldemort's name.

He is the monster under your bed. Literally, he lives under your bed, sliding out at night to sniff your hair. That seems to keep him content.

For now.

Maybe you've noticed that your fridge is a little emptier than you remembered. Sometimes you don't remember buying a jar of pickles and opening them. There seem to be always something to eat these days, you're not one to shop responsibly. Then why are there actual healthy foods like fresh produce and meats instead of frozen, TV dinners?

Maybe the spirit of New Year's Resolution came and possessed you during the weekends. Maybe. Definitely not because you have an unknown roommate around.

You're not complaining, you get to eat delicious and healthy "fresh leftovers" in the fridge even though you have no memory twisting the gas knob of your stove.

You swore you just replenished your body wash, why did it decrease so much?

At times, you're sure that your toothpaste is about to run out, only to see a slightly used, plump tube on the sink shelf. Did you replace them while you're drunk? Why did you not have any recollection of it? Why is your toothbrush already wet?

The toilet paper holder never seem to run out of toilet paper too. Usually, once a month, you would have to awkwardly waddle out of the bathroom, pants around your ankle just to get a fresh roll. You stopped doing that now.

Yeah, these stuff leaves you weary and pretty much on edge. But you're already dead inside from working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage in customer service. Having a little spice in your life would give you that kick to keep you going once in a while.

Plus, free food and toiletries. The stuff you get back is way more than you can ever afford. Which you're grateful for and would even turn a blind eye to the fact that it's very clear someone is living with you without your consent or knowledge. And your place is much more cleaner and neater. A win for you.

Or you're just that fucking oblivious and airheaded that you don't think anything is out of place, I don't personally know everyone who reads this.

For the sake of plot, you will be the latter. It's easier to write for.

So you think all is sunshine and rainbows, you're fed, your chores are done and the trash took out itself. Yay!

You sleep better, like, much better. Too better. Too quickly as well, you missed the dip in your mattress.

You shouldn't have drank that mysterious cup of your favorite drink that mysteriously appeared in your fridge and has some white residue at the bottom!

You don't even wake up when he drapes his arm over you, cuddling you until the sun shows itself over the horizon. Sometimes the hugging can make your eyes open a bit, but you shut them back cause you thought it's just your sleep paralysis demon feeling a little loving towards you.

Having fingers gently running through your hair while you're off to dreamland is... Nice. Having a pair of lips tenderly kissing your face is... Nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses from your jaw down to your chest is... Questionable. But somewhat nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses down from your chest to your already exposed, vulnerable pussy is... Well. Up to your intepretation.

Hey, it's not like you're awake to stop him from spreading your legs, pumping your hole with his fingers and lapping you up, right? Who is going to stop him? Not you, definitely. You're just egging him on by cumming on his tongue as he tongue-fucks you like he's dehydrated and you're his only source of water.

No worries, your bedsheet won't be drenched when you wake up. He is sure to catch every single drop of your sweet, sweet, love nectar. What a thirsty menace, he is. Pleasuring you with his mouth in your sleep for hours and hours on end.

Actually, one hour and a half on average. He has other things to do, unfortunately. Like, putting a bullet in one of his target's cerebrum? He has a job too, you know.

The room would be silent save for his slurping, smooching, smacking and the stirring of Mac n' cheese. Gulping too, he swallows everything you give.

Once he has his fill, he would press one last kiss on your sex and a few more against your inner thighs as thanks before wiping his chin and lips with his thumb. He isn't going to let any of it go to waste, he's licking the left overs from his drenched digits. Eating you out seems to satisfy him.

For now.

He smiles as he slowly puts your underwear and sweatpants back on.

Hygiene is important. That is why, after every meal, he would brush his teeth.

With your toothbrush of course.

He would stare at himself in the mirror as he scrub his molars clean, already missing the taste of you. He tries not to put too much focus onto his own reflection as he dislikes staring into the deep, dark, depressing abyss. He is indifferent about himself, so apathetic that it's... Hollow. Empty.

He gives no shits about the world. They could burn for all he cares. Only you made him feel something, made him feel pure bliss, only you mattered to him, only you can make a tent in his pants. Only you, only you.

God, you were his only will to live. If you go, he goes. Period. You are irreplaceable, special and extremely important, his life, his happiness depends on yours.

You are perfection, no one can compete. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong and deserves to be waterboarded before getting impaled on a stick like shish kebab. You are his escape to his bleak reality, a drug, an addiction. A severe, addiction. He is too far deep, you can't pry him away from you, crowbar or by otherwise.

He lives for you. No, I don't think you understand the intensity of his love for you. He LIVES for you, if it wasn't for your existence, he would have taken his own life long ago.

I'll say it again, only YOU can get his dick up by looking in his general direction. Only YOU can get away with so many fucking things others had died for doing.

If the world is going to have this... Mega wipeout and he is given a chance to save 1000 people, he would only save you. No one else-- and also himself. The 998 empty slots would be wasted.

Only YOU... Could make him smile.

He gargled and spat into the sink, washing your toothbrush before replacing them in their original spot.

He sniffed your face towel deeply before using it to pat his face.

Your self proclaimed boyfriend went on to take a nice, hot shower. Steam fogs up the mirror and shower screen, he scrubs himself clean with your body shampoo. Stripping any smell, grime and blood off him.

He makes sure to remove the hair clogging the drain.

Again, he took a deep whiff of your shower towel before using it as intended.

He dries his hair with the towel as he gets out of the bathroom, wearing a fresh set of his pyjamas. His eyes softened as he sees your sleeping form on your bed, he mumbled a:

"I'll join you in bed in a minute, honey."

Under his breath. It's not like you're conscious to know what the fuck is going on.

He pecks your forehead and brushes the hair away from your face.

"I love you." He whispers. He receives zero (0) responses.

It's always like that. You go to sleep, he gives you the best head in your life, but you're to asleep to realize, he then brushes his teeth, he showers, he fix himself something to eat, he brushes his teeth again because... Smells. And finally, he goes to bed with you.

He likes pickles. It's salty, sour, briny and helps replenish his electrolytes. Anchovies too, its... Fishy, salty, oily. Lemon sorbets are also nice, it's sweet, sour and refreshing. Natto is great for his brain, he also likes the slimy texture of it and he doesn't mind the bitterness.

Okay, he just likes the taste of pussy. Specifically, your pussy. It should taste kinda salty, kinda sour, kinda sweet and kinda bitter.

Whatever.

But usually, he would just fix up a ham and egg wrap for himself. It's quick to prepare, not too smell offensive, not too noise offensive.

He would munch on it as he goes back to your bedroom. There is a TV in front of your bed, so he would turn it on and put the volume on zero. Your self proclaimed boyfriend would pull you to his chest, making you use him as a pillow as he enjoys his simple dinner and watch whatever is on TV.

One hand holding his meal, the other rhythmically patting your rear.

Sometimes, he pats a little too hard, the screen is a little too bright, the wrap is a little too tasty, you would wake up. But not fully.

You would slur and stir. Eyelids heavy, it's a struggle to even pry them apart.

He would remedy this by bringing his wrap to your lips, which you would, without fail, get a nibble. That's enough to send you back to sleep, subconsciously chewing and swallowing that micro bite.

You always thought your sleep paralysis demon has the sexiest chuckle and the softest kisses.

The next day rolls by and you're alone on your bed. The thing between your legs feels funny and you have a faint taste of ham and eggs in your mouth.

You yawn and swung your legs over the edge. Letting your feet touch the ground, giving him full view of your ankles from under the bed.

It's your off day today and he knows you would usually spend these doing nothing. Just lazily laying around, rot your brain with social media, cry about your mediocrity, then go back on social media, binge eat, cry about your mediocrity again, social media, binge eat and finally sleep until the next day.

These are the days where he so badly wishes to fuck your brains out, to fuck the tears away. To give you orgasm after orgasm to forget whatever is making you sad, to make you prefer him thrusting into you instead of seeing suspiciously successful lives on the internet, to overstimulate you so you think about nothing but pleasure.

Let the room reek of sex, let the moans and wet slapping bounce off the thin walls, let the taste of you coat every square inch of his mouth. Let his hands roam all over your body and let him worship you as this deity having a gorilla grip on his life.

These are the days where... It's best for him to leave your apartment to carry out a hit. As he might simply just lose control and take you as soon as he hears your sniffling. Stuff you full of cock and tongue, kissing your sorrows away.

The aftercare stuff excites him too, he would want to see you relax in his hold, letting him work his masseur magic. Allowing him to feed you proper, warm meals after a pleasant, sensual shower.

He may be obsessive and unhinged. But not delusional. At least, not THAT delusional to think you'll see and accept him as your boyfriend if he jumps out of his hiding place now. You're going to have a panic attack and possibly throw up and die.

So he has no choice but to suppress it. He will have to strike when an opening comes. Maybe, enact a cliche romantic meeting and work up from there? Perhaps, that sounds like a good idea.

He is satisfied with what the bottle of sleeping pills hidden in his pocket can do.

For now.

[illyaana]

Collab: Chaos's Bearsday Collab by @chaos-night

Thanks for having this Collab hun! I hope you had/have an amazing birthday <3

Tags: Aged Up! Birthday boy! Izuku Midoriya x Binaural, SFW, Fluff

Synopsis: You thought this was going to be a normal birthday with Deku - the only thing that was different is you were going to make Katsudon, pork cutlet bowls, for Deku. What you weren't prepared for was a flirty Izuku Midoriya.

Word Count: 1689

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You groaned at the sound of your blaring alarm, forcing you awake. You raised your head to meet Izuku’s chin. His hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body even more. You pressed against the bed, pushing yourself upwards to face the sleeping face of your beloved.

You adored the sight of the defenceless hero.

His dishevelled green hair mimicked a bush in the woods - wild yet so adorable. His lips were slightly parted, allowing soft snores to escape the powerful quirk user. His small freckles glowed under the soft sunlight entering your shared room from the window, leaving you in awe. His long lashes framed his closed eyelids.

Thankfully, your alarm turned itself off - he wasn’t letting you move anymore, not with the vice grip he had around you tightening unknowingly.

You couldn’t resist the urge to run the pad of your thumb against his soft lips - it looked so soft and supple. The rest of your fingers found their place on Izuku’s cheek, enjoying the warmth only he could radiate. You smiled, looking at the sleeping Izuku subconsciously pressing his cheeks against your fingers.

This is what you believed a life spent with him would look like - and you pray so that it stays like this.

“Hey,” you say as you kiss Midoriya’s forehead, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Your alarm began to ring again, causing the hero beside you to groan loudly.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, placing his head on your shoulder, “We don’t need to wake up early today.”

This man… how was he the top hero?

You ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to wake you up early today?” you ask, recalling your conversation with him yesterday.

“I just wanted to spend the whole day with you, but I think we can do it from this bed, can’t we?” he said, pressing kisses on the nape of your neck.

“I think you forgot, Deku,” you say, cupping his cheeks, “You have a press conference with Bakugo and Todoroki today - you know, about your job as a hero?”

His eyelids shot open.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“It’s only,” you looked at the wall clock, “9 am right now. You have about 1 hour to get ready and head to the studio. That trip would take about 20 minutes.”

You smiled when you saw him visibly relax.

“Sadly,” you say, “You aren’t getting breakfast from me since I couldn’t even move one inch from the bed,” you gesture to his arms on your waist.

You kissed his forehead again, trying to wipe off the guilty smile he had on his face.

“Happy birthday, Midoriya Izuku. Now, go get ready.”

He kissed the apples of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thanks, love.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

The minute you heard the door close, you got out your phone and called your mother-in-law.

“Hi!” she answered cheerfully, “You ready to do this?”

You turned the voice call into a video call, then propped your phone behind the salt shaker.

“Hopefully…” you trail off as you put on your apron, “You don’t think I’ll burn anything or cause a fire, right?”

“If you’re anything like Izuku in terms of cooking, we’ll be fine.”

You weren’t.

Pancakes, waffles - you could handle that.

But meat? It definitely was not your forte.

Izuku’s the one who handled all the savoury dishes while you were the resident taste tester.

“Don’t worry - the very person who introduced him to the savoury dish is right here, showing you each step in detail. You won’t mess up that much,” you said to yourself as you brought out the ingredients.

You laid them out in front of her, allowing her to examine them thoroughly.

“First things first,” she said, moving to her couch, “You’re wearing your apron wrongly.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

You stared at the pan filled with onions, eggs and fried pork, feeling defeated.

You were supposed to move all of that into a small bowl of rice.

You were supposed to move a bunch of slippery onions doused in sauce, a steamed omelette that looked like it was going to break into two and a pork cutlet that you slaved over - all of that, into a small bowl of rice.

“Trust me, it’s pretty easy,” Inko said, trying to calm you down, “It just looks intimidating.”

“Intimidating is one way to explain it,” you said, staring at your hard work.

“Just do it, don’t worry - you have multiple backup pork cutlets if you mess up.”

“I know, but-”

“Just do it.”

You immediately placed the toppings into the bowl of rice without any spillage.

...or so you thought.

The whole thing spilt over the sides of the pan, missing the bowl of rice entirely.

“Try again, dear,” she said smiling, “No harm in trying again.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

After 5 tries, you managed to make two perfect bowls of fresh katsudon. The smell of the fried pork cutlets wafted through the air, making you smile at your hard work.

“It looks really good, dear,” she said, smiling, “He’ll love it.”

You smile at her cheerful gaze towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? It’s just a fifteen-minute drive.”

“I appreciate you asking me,” she said, sighing, “But I think you two should spend the day together. I’m pretty sure you both haven’t spent much time together since your honeymoon.”

“You sure?” you ask once again.

“I’m very, very sure,” she says, chuckling, “Now go get ready.”

You placed your phone flat on the countertop and started to set the table. As soon as you finished, Izuku came into the house, a tired expression painted on his face.

“You okay?” You say as you walk towards him.

“How rude of them to make me work on my own birthday?” he chuckled softly.

He looked to the dining table and his eyes lit up.

“Did you made Katsudon?” he asked, the tired expression he once had leaving his face.

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you help him take off his jacket.

“However,” you place his hands on his chest, “You need to go bathe.”

“What’s with everyone bullying me today?” he huffed.

“Bullying or taking care of you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off.

“Just go bathe,” you say, chuckling as you push him towards your room.

“Oh no,” he said as you pushed him, “My feet can’t move.”

This grown kid.

“So I’m supposed to carry you bridal style now?” you joke.

“ I did it to you, didn’t I?” he whispers in your ear.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks the minute the sentence left his lips.

This man…

“Wow, my feet work now! I’ll go bathe,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

This man is too cute for his own good.

⁜

⁜

⁜

“This…” he said, mouth stuffed with food, “This is really good!”

You smile, looking at the green-haired male scarfing down the food you made. You loved the little sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he truly enjoyed something - and to your luck, it was the food you prepared for him.

“You seriously made this by yourself?” He asked with his eyebrow raised.

“You don’t see your mom here, do you?”

“You sure you didn’t order in?” He teased again.

You kicked his leg under the table, causing him to wince in pain.

“Oh, how you wound me,” he said, faking tears.

“Serves you right for making fun of me,” you huff.

He got off of his chair and headed to the sink to wash his bowl.

“Well, to be fair,” you add, “I did video call your mom so she could teach me.”

“So I was right, then,” he said as he places his bowl in the sink and turning to face you.

“She didn’t make it, though!”

“You said you made it all by yourself, but you got my mother’s help. Hence, you lied to me,” he put his arms on the countertop.

“I didn’t lie to you,” you say, laughing, “I really made it by myself.”

Izuku was already standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.

“You kicked me,” he stared at you, “You kicked a tired hero.”

“Heroes don’t tease others as much as you do,” you retort.

“What is my purpose in your life but to tease you?”

“A lot of things actually,” you say, smiling at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

“First of all,” you put your hand on his chest, “Where did this flirty Izuku come from?”

“Maybe,” he put his thumb on your lower lip, “He came because I am using my birthday privileges to be a little more flirty than usual.”

You stare at his green orbs. They glimmered even under his own shadow. Its golden flecks shined just for you and you alone. The creases of his eyes curved upwards, showing you how happy he was just to be in your presence. The wild forest he calls his hair had rogue strands that tickled your cheeks. You loved how soft they were - especially after him just washing it roughly an hour ago.

Your hand on his chest began to outline the scars he cultivated through his years under All Might’s wing and his hero training back in UA. You smiled as you remembered how strong-willed he was as a boy to become a hero, and now he was - standing on the very top.

“You okay?” he asked, worried.

“I was just thinking of how much you’ve grown from back then,” you look up to his face, meeting his eyes that were staring straight at you.

“For someone who took so many notes back then, you’re really dumb,” you both chuckle.

“How are you still bullying me?” he sighed.

“Endure it, Deku,” you joke, imitating Bakugou.

You close your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the small moment you’re sharing with the male in front of you.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

“Thank you, love.”

You both shared a kiss, both bellies and hearts full.

[caitlesshea]

begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Ana learns a lot about Buck while she’s dating Eddie, like how Buck’s the one who should be dating him.

Ana learns about Buck in stages.

First from Christopher, when she was his teacher, and he would mention his Buck or draw Buck in family pictures. 

The second from the school nurse telling her that Christopher is being signed out to go home and she sees his name on Chris’ school forms. 

The third is from Eddie, when he brings him up as a work colleague even though she suspects it’s more than that.

She just doesn’t realize how much more until the first time she sees the inside of Eddie’s house. 

His house is homey, much cozier than she’d expect for a single dad who’s a first responder. She says as much and he chuckles.

“Some of this I did, but most was my Abuela.”

Ana nods and walks over to the mantle to look at the photos. 

She sees a picture of a younger Christopher sitting in a high chair between Eddie and a woman who she assumes is Shannon. 

“Shannon?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. Chris, uhh, wanted to put some up.”

Ana nods and continues looking. There’s some more of Eddie and Chris, people she assumes are Eddie’s parents and his Abuela, and then there’s Buck.

Or well, she thinks it’s Buck, with how Chris has always described him. She notices one photo in particular that causes her to pause.

“Is that?”

Eddie reaches up and grabs the back of his neck, almost like he’s nervous. 

“Uh, yeah. Buck built him a skateboard, we tried it out at the park.”

So, Buck built Chris a skateboard after Ana wrongly said that Chris should know his limitations. 

“I’m sorry for saying what I said.”

“It’s fine, Ana.” 

“It’s not.”

Eddie shrugs and Ana considers bringing it up again but she chooses not to, instead focusing on a Christmas photo that was taken at the station; Eddie, Chris, and Buck in the back smiling. 

Eddie follows her eye movement and he smiles. “Buck and Athena set that up. We were on shift on Christmas and he surprised us with our families and dinner.”

“That was sweet.” Ana feels a little out of her depth here. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this soft look on Eddie’s face before but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“It was, yeah.” 

They finish going through the photos, as Ana learns more about Eddie’s life. 

He makes them dinner, although he sticks a pan of lasagna in the oven so she doesn’t know how much he actually cooked. 

They’re about to sit on the couch, when he stops and says he’s going to grab something from his room. She follows him and notices for the first time that his room is a different sort of style than the rest of the house. 

It’s all dark blues and grays with some stylish lamps and photographs on the walls. 

She almost wishes she didn’t know about Buck now. 

“I like your room,” She comments while he grabs a blanket from the bed. It’s a soft black velvet.

“Oh, thanks. This was mostly Buck. My room apparently looked like a boring hotel room so he’s been giving me some of his stuff.”

“That’s?”

“Nice, right?”

No. She was going to say weird. But she nods instead. 

“The photo?” Ana asks as she walks closer to the print on the wall. It’s the typical California style photo, the palm tree lined street, but it’s in black and white, tasteful, where they’re usually cheesy. 

“Oh, uh, Buck took that. Had it framed for my birthday last year. Said it can remind me of why I moved us here, for a fresh start.”

“Huh.” Ana can tell it’s important to him, can tell that he loves the photo and the sentiment behind it. What she can’t tell is if he loves the photo more or the person who took it. 

“C’mon, let’s go watch the movie.” Eddie grabs her hand and she forgets about the room and Buck, at least for the night. 

~~~

Ana meets Buck in stages.

She thought she’d meet him at school, when he came to pick up Christopher, or at the school play, where Christopher was the main character, or at the science fair, or bake sale. All events she knows Buck was there for.

But, she never does. Whether it’s by luck or design, she doesn’t know. But she wishes she had, because she meets Buck, awkwardly, while on a date with Eddie. 

The one night Buck isn’t babysitting Christopher, Eddie’s Abuela watching him after Chris and Eddie’s talk, they run into Buck. 

So, she meets Buck outside of an ice cream shop. 

“Buck.” Eddie freezes beside her and she sees a tall man, taller than she thought with the pictures, with a cone halfway to his mouth. Buck lets out a sheepish smile and shrugs. 

That’s when Ana notices the woman next to Buck, she’s pretty, her red hair is gorgeous, and Ana thinks she looks familiar. 

“Taylor,” Eddie says clipped, in a voice she hasn’t heard from him since the skateboard incident. 

“Eddie,” The woman, Taylor, says just as clipped. 

Ana wonders what she missed. 

“What are you two doing here?” Buck asks and then he holds out his non sticky hand. “Sorry, Eddie’s rude, I’m Buck. You must be Ana.”

She nods and looks between Buck and Eddie who are giving each other eyes. “Yes, hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too.” Buck looks at Eddie and realizes no one is going to say anything else so he looks back to Ana.

“Would you two like to join us?” Ana asks out of desperation and Eddie looks at her incredulously. 

Buck looks at Taylor and she nudges him back. “We’d love to, but I have to get back to the station, I’m on nights right now. Next time? Buck and Eddie can schedule something.”

“Sure, bye Eddie. Ana.” Buck nods his head and she smiles at him. As they leave she can hear Taylor and Buck whispering to each other.

“That was awkward Buckley.”

“It’s not my fault he didn’t say anything…” Buck trails off and then they’re too far away to hear anything else.

Ana turns back to Eddie. “They seem like a cute couple.”

“Huh?”

“Buck and Taylor? You didn’t tell me he has a girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t,” Eddie says sharply. “They’re friends.”

“Oh, could’ve fooled me.”

“Why do you say that?” Eddie asks, looking at her for the first time since they ran into Buck.

“They seem close.” Ana shrugs. She doesn’t know why she has to explain anything, or why it would matter if Buck’s dating someone. 

“They, uhh, dated a couple years ago, but I think they’re friends now.” Eddie finally manages.

“Ohh. Okay. Friends with benefits. I get it.”

Eddie chokes on nothing and he looks a little green.

“Edmundo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, lets get that ice cream.” 

She nods and follows him into the ice cream shop, not surprised in the slightest when he orders the same flavor Buck was eating. 

~~~

The second time she meets Buck is at a party in his loft. Everyone is vaccinated and Buck wanted to have everyone over before his sister, Maddie, has her baby. 

Eddie introduces her to everyone; Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen, Michael and David, Chimney and Maddie, Albert, and then Taylor.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ana says kindly as Eddie goes into the kitchen to grab them drinks. The loft is nice, modern, and looking suspiciously like Eddie’s bedroom, but she keeps that to herself. 

“Hey, not until after dinner. You’re worse than Christopher!” 

Ana looks over as Buck smacks Eddie’s hand with a towel as he tries to sneak cookies and Ana laughs at their antics, although no one else even so much as blinks their way. 

Taylor follows her line of sight and smiles. “Oh, they’re like that. You’ll get used to it.” 

Before Ana can respond she sees Taylor slide up to Buck and helps him with setting up the rest of the food. 

Eddie comes back over to her with a glass of wine and Ana smiles even as she notices Eddie’s face is pinched. 

Before Ana can grab it she spills some on her dress and Eddie curses.

“Shit, sorry Ana.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just grab a towel.”

“Buck, I’m taking her upstairs,” Eddie shouts to Buck and he looks over and nods.

Eddie guides her up the stairs and when she sees Buck’s bedroom, she pauses. It’s almost identical to Eddie’s in style and color. He even has the same photo hanging up on the wall. She says as much and Eddie smiles. 

“Oh yeah, he came to LA for similar reasons so he had one made for his place.”

“Huh.”

“There should be Shout Wipes in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet.” Eddie points to the bathroom as he sits down on Buck’s bed like he has every right to. He probably does. 

“Thanks. I’ll be just a minute.” 

Ana closes the door and finds a towel, wetting the stain first and then finding the wipes. As she cleans, she notices the meds in the bathroom. 

She knows she shouldn’t snoop but seeing Chris’ name on one of the bottles surprises her. It looks like Buck keeps extra medicine here for backup. She notices painkillers and Eddie’s favorite brand of shaving cream. 

Feeling like she’s crossed some sort of boundary she closes the medicine cabinet and is about to head back out when she hears voices from the room.

“You spill on yourself, too?” Eddie jokes and Buck groans.

“Albert ran right into me with the dip.”

“Sucks.”

“Seriously. I can’t wait til he leaves.”

“He could go back home, you know,” Eddie says gently as Ana hears what is likely a shirt being thrown in a hamper.

“I’m not gonna do that to Maddie.” Buck moves around and then asks. “Which one? Red or blue?”

“Blue, definitely,” Eddie responds and Ana can’t see them but she has to agree, whatever blue shirt Buck puts on will bring out his eyes.

“Good, I think this red shirt is actually yours.”

Eddie laughs and Ana pauses a moment because she’s never heard that laugh before. Part fond, part exasperated. She wonders why he laughs like that with Buck. 

“Makes sense.”

“Okay, come down when you’re done, I can’t have Albert setting my kitchen on fire.”

Ana can hear Buck heading down the stairs so she leaves the bathroom. Eddie stands to come closer and she accidentally blurts out what she’s thinking. 

“You have clothes here?”

“Huh? Oh, well I did live here for a couple of months, but with the firehouse and everything we all probably have each other’s clothes.”

Eddie says it so nonchalantly that Ana can’t even respond as he heads towards the stairs. He turns to look at her.

“Coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She doesn’t think it’s nonchalant at all. 

~~~ 

Ana meets Evan all at once. 

It’s her first night staying over at Eddie’s, with Christopher at Hen’s house for a sleepover of his own. 

She isn’t sure what wakes her up until she hears Eddie’s sleep rough voice.

“Evan?”

Who’s Evan? 

“Yeah, no, we’ll be there.” Eddie pauses as he sits up. “Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Eddie hangs up and looks at her sheepishly. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks as she sits up as well. 

“Yeah, Maddie’s gone into labor, so I was gonna head to the hospital.”

Huh? Eddie isn’t family, why is he going to the hospital?

“Okay. Let’s go,” Ana says instead of asking that question. 

“Are you sure? I can drop you off first.”

“No, it’s fine, we can go.” 

Plus this is a way for her to assert herself as an important person in Eddie’s life. 

“Thanks,” Eddie say, relieved, as he starts getting dressed. 

Ana follows suit and when they finally head to the hospital Eddie’s a bundle of nerves.

“She’ll be okay,” Ana says quietly as she places a hand on his leg. He nods but he doesn’t relax. 

He doesn’t relax, that is, until he sees Buck in the waiting room. 

“Evan,” Eddie breathes out as they hug. Ana’s momentarily shocked, because Eddie isn’t overly affectionate with anyone other than Christopher, but he hugs Buck like it’s a normal thing. 

Both of them calm down when they hug and then it hits her that Eddie called Buck ‘Evan’. She’s never heard someone call him that, but it must be his first name. 

She wonders when Eddie got that privilege. 

She feels like she’s intruding so she taps Eddie’s shoulder and he turns toward her. 

“I’m gonna grab coffee, you two want anything?” 

Buck smiles at her but Eddie answers her. 

“Black with cream for me, sugar and cream for Buck.”

“Okay.” Ana walks away and turns around just to see Eddie and Buck sitting down and bringing their foreheads together, almost unconsciously. 

“Oh, Ana, hey.”

Ana turns and sees Chimney.

“Chimney, hi. How’s Maddie?”

“She’s good. I’m grabbing her water. And waiting for Albert to get here. I take it you came with Eddie?” 

“Yeah. Is the whole station coming?” Ana asks even though she thinks she knows the answer.

“No. Only family. Hen and Bobby said they’d stop by after she’s born,” Chimney responds and then he’s quickly turning back towards the rooms. “Tell Albert when you see him that he comes in second since he’s late.”

“Sure,” Ana says quietly as she takes the coffee back to Buck and Eddie. After they grab theirs she sits next to Eddie and sees what they’re looking at on Eddie’s phone. 

“Is that Christopher?” She asks and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I got so many photos of him when he was this age,” Eddie speaks quietly and Ana realizes that he got sent photos of Christopher because this must’ve been when he was deployed with the Army. He doesn’t talk about it much but she can tell Buck knows because Buck squeezes Eddie’s knee in support. 

The biggest shocker, though, is when Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes back.  

She once again feels like she’s intruding on something private, something theirs, and she doesn’t know what to do. 

Luckily she doesn’t have to think too much because Albert comes running in and he and Buck start arguing over who’s going to go in first, who’s going to be the better uncle. 

“Should we?” Ana gestures to them and Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, they’re fine. This is fun for them.”

Ana nods and sits back to drink her coffee. Before she knows it, Chimney’s back in the waiting room telling them that Maddie and baby are fine and that they can all come meet her. 

Buck and Eddie jump up and Ana trails behind with Albert. 

“You don’t want to run in there?” She asks Albert.

“Oh I do, but I don’t want to overwhelm Maddie.”

Ana nods and keeps walking towards the room. When she gets there what she sees stops her in her tracks. 

Buck is holding his niece and Eddie, well, Eddie is staring at him with so much love, adoration, and abject want that Ana feels like she’s intruding. 

Eddie turns to her and holds out his phone. “Can you take a picture? I promised Chis I would show him before he meets her.”

“Sure,” Ana says like she’s underwater. Eddie’s lockscreen, a picture of Buck and Chris, barely registers. 

She hears the baby's name, Kylee Danielle, after her uncles, and watches as Buck tears up, and Eddie grabs the back of his neck. 

She then watches Buck pass Kylee to Eddie, and if she wasn’t so shocked she would notice the way Buck was watching him, the way Maddie was watching her, and the way Albert was videotaping everything. 

She would notice that Eddie looked damn good holding a baby. 

If she didn’t feel like she was intruding on a private family moment. 

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with Eddie. 

She looks toward Maddie and Chimney, Maddie has kind but sad eyes looking at her and Ana knows now that she’s not who Eddie is meant to be with. 

“Congratulations,” Ana says quietly. “Eddie, I’m gonna go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Eddie says as he hands Kylee to Albert.

“I do. It’s okay, I’ll call you.”

It shouldn’t surprise her when he nods and turns back to the others but it does. 

She nods to Maddie and Chimney and then to Buck, who’s looking at her with an odd expression on his face. 

“It was nice to see you again, Evan,” Ana says and she hears his breath catch. 

She calls an Uber, waits outside for it, and when she finally gets home, she realizes she took some photos on her phone, too.

Ana looks at them, sees Eddie and Buck, looking like they belong together, and sends them to Eddie with the text ‘you have a beautiful family.’ 

~~~

Ana learns about Edmundo and Evan Buckley-Diaz when she gets a change of name form for one Christopher Buckley-Diaz. 

Along with the name form is an official form of guardianship for Buck, declaring him Christopher’s other father. 

~~~

Years later Ana learns about Ellie Buckley-Diaz when her fathers drop her off for her first day of kindergarten. 

“Eddie. Buck. Hi,” Ana greets them as they come out of the front office, paperwork in hand and an excited five year old bouncing on her toes. 

“Ana,” Eddie says warmly and Buck smiles. “Principal now?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years.”

“Congrats.” Eddie smiles and then turns to his daughter who pulls on his shirt sleeve. 

“Daddy, I want to see my classroom.” 

“I’ll take you,” Buck responds and gives Ana a smile. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once and then takes Ellie’s hand. 

“Papa! We have to see it right now!” 

“Okay, okay, little monster, we will,” Buck chuckles after her. 

Ana turns back to Eddie and he smiles after them and then turns to her. 

“I’m happy for you,” Ana says and Eddie looks at her curiously.

“Thank you. I am sorry about how…”

“Water under the bridge.” Ana waves her hand and points to a photo of her and her son, Milo, and Eddie smiles. 

“He’s beautiful.”

“Your daughter is, too.” Ana wants to say she looks like a perfect mix between the two of them but she keeps those thoughts to herself. 

They’ve never been close enough for that kind of conversation. 

“Thank you. She’s certainly energetic, takes after Evan,” Eddie says this with such fondness that Ana’s thrown back to the hospital when Kylee was born, and how he looked at Buck even then. 

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nope. Well, it was good to see you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ana smiles as he walks away, towards his family.

Ana looks at the photo of her son again. 

Learning all of these things about these great people led her to her greatest joy. 

She can’t be mad about that. 

[sunnykeysmash]

(ignore my main url my side-blog is gayasslovestory) BUT any particular thoughts on the conversation about identity and what dee’s line in that clip 👀

Well I don't have transcripts at hand yet so I don't know exactly what was said, but that whole scene felt very on the nose, Mac and Dennis frame Dee as she says that thing about falling in love and shutting up, she even looks at Dennis, and Dennis only starts lashing out about identity the moment Mac starts talking about being gay and going to bang dudes etc, but I'm sure any talk about identity is very irritating to him, as the person who has to constantly make up fake personas in order to keep up the lies he tells about himself. Notice he was very angry about "liars" as well, which to me is clear projection on his part.

For Dennis, it doesn't matter what you actually do, identity is what you convince yourself you are, even when actions and feelings don't match that. That reflects Jumper in a way, "feelings just get in the way" and all, but I think he's very conflicted about it, as well, because if tends bar is any indication, what he wants more than anything else in the entire world is to be known, for people to understand him ("because I know you, man"!). It's a very recurring thing that the gang misinterprets him, think making dennis reynolds a murderer, or speaks wrongly on his behalf, think tends bar and also the mongrel scene as the recent example, and he's kinda stuck in that. And it's also not the first time rcg uses something like covid to symbolize feelings, in chop, frank's distress is presented with belching (*sighs* oh, my peepee poopoo show, back at it again).

So for Dennis, I think, it doesn't matter what you actually do, because identity is how you're perceived as, so might as well play into that and be the best version of it you can manage, to him it's just as much a mask as wearing someone else's skin. And it's scary to step out of that, who even is Dennis?

And also, if mac is so obsessed about "what things are" and dennis "doesn't care for labels", there would be a conflict there if they got together, over how to define what's between them.

Anyway, I think it's a really good sign that they're tackling Dennis' identity in the first place, it was a long time coming! If dennis actually gets over his denial then that's a great thing for us in terms of macdennis.

As for what I meant by "menopause era" for Dennis, since I think that fits into this and I wanna talk about it also,

So irrationality, hot flashes (or fever), mood swings, paranoia. It checks out imo.

And now that Mac is hanging with Gus, who knows. But yeah, just wanted to bring that up. Anyway I don't really have many thoughts about it because I don't have the transcripts of the new episodes yet and I really need to read the dialogue. I will get back to you on this once I do.

[thegreymoon]

Monarch Industry

I am obsessed with this drama. OBSESSED. 

Also, this place is ridiculously beautiful 💚

***

Oh? 👀

I mean, I know that Xiao Qi and Awu are the OTP, but I was not expecting it so directly and so soon. Poor Third Prince. That man is stupid beautiful and I feel for him, but Zhou Yiwei is super hard to compete with. Sorry, Third Prince 😢

***

My heart breaks for her. 

Imagine being forced to marry your rapist, and a gross imbecile at that. 

***

God, this man is beautiful 😭

***

The beauty of this 💙

But I am very curious how Awu and Zitan will separate and how much it will hurt me. I don’t like the premonitions at all. He seems so smitten with her, I don’t believe that wooing her is a scheme on his part. 

***

Poor woman. 

***

It’s the LEAST you owe her. 

I don’t care that he was also drugged, he absolutely went there that day to commit premediated rape. He just raped the wrong woman. 

***

Which one is Duke Huan again? 

Also, Second Prince finally drops the mask. Let’s see what he’s up to and who this new guy is. 

***

Oh, the new guy is Duke Huan and he’s the mastermind behind the assassinations. This referring to people you’re talking to in third person confused me. 

***

Ha.

I knew he was pretending the moment they introduced him, but I wonder if the Emperor knows too and is setting a trap behind the trap. 

***

Wait... a rebellion? Wang Lin is pulling an actual coup? Well. This won’t end well.

***

Oh my God, did they lace the jade seal with poison? Is that why Wang Lin didn’t want to let the Crown Prince touch it????

***

This is the satisfied face of a man who just murdered the Emperor. 

***

I don’t understand what just happened.

Wang Lin knows damn well that it was not the wine that was poisoned. The medical examiner also said so. Then why did he change his story? Was he not certain of it and couldn’t bear to risk his family if he was wrong? Or did Wang Lin fully bring in poisoned wine, ready to commit suicide to frame Concubine Xie? 

***

Well. There goes that. 

If they execute him, I will cry a river. 

***

Why, yes, my good murderous sir! You have excellent taste!

He truly is magnificent in armour! I’d want him as a son-in-law too! 

***

The amount of innocent people they are planning to kill 😶 Jesus Christ. 

***

The most useless husband alive.

***

He knows the whole Xie conspiracy is bs. 

Imagine standing there, watching an entire family get wrongly executed, and being unable to do anything to stop it. 

***

How is threatening a psychopath murderer with a ghost even supposed to work? 

Clearly, she is not afraid of sinning or she would not be doing what she’s doing. If an entire wrongfully dead family haunting her does not concern her, how do you think you alone intimidate her? 

***

Poor woman. 

***

Of course.

Fucking liars. I can’t believe Xie Guifei played right into their hands like that and literally gave them the knife to murder the rest of her bloodline. 

***

Oh, so he set up Wanru!

It seems like this son monopolised all his father’s sperm capable of producing functional brain cells.

***

OK, but has he consented to this? 

How are they planning to blackmail him? 

***

Ah. Here we go.

Poor OTP, it couldn’t have started off worse than this. 

***

Mmmm, Murder Daddy is laying down some harsh truths. 

The ruling class and the military are the true marriage, people are just sheep for slaughter. 

***

Oh, sweetheart 😅

I’m dying of second-hand embarrassment for him. 

***

I WANT 😭😭

***

She may be evil, but she’s very beautiful!

I just keep staring at this woman every time she’s on screen. She has no bad angles and is just perfect however you look at her. 

[baya-ni]

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

~

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy​ finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”