#otherwise tumblr would sob and cry

[timoothy]

Working Boys Billted cut <3

[girlleon]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

bestie!leon kennedy x reader

warnings: 18+, dubcon lol, mental health issues for both leon and reader… he’s a pervert and again ooc but that’s the fun of things. dacryphillia and he’s a little mean and sleazy.

tumblr removes fics with nsfw tags from the tag. ergo i’ve flagged the content at the beginning. you’re also responsible for your own media consumption, so if this bugs you, don’t read it.

Leon sat there on the edge of the bed with you, rubbing your back as you hid your face in your hands. “I just feel like I’m going in circles.” You tell him, lifting your head out of your hands to rest your chin on them. “I mean, I don’t feel like I’m ever gonna get better.”

He can sympathize, he really can, especially when he was in boot camp post Raccoon City and laid awake at night because he had nightmares otherwise.

He rubs your back in circles on autopilot, trying not to get bored or indulge in an impulsive thought that tells you to shut the fuck up and quit fucking crying, maybe open your blinds once or twice a day and you wouldn’t feel so bad. Eat a fucking vegetable or two while you’re at it.

You, believing the best in him, don’t really notice. “I just—“ and your voice breaks, face warming all the way to your neck as you hide your face in your hands again and kick yourself internally for crying in front of him.

You hate crying in front of everyone, your face gets splotchy and you can’t breathe through your nose. When it’s Leon, though, your best friend, it’s a little worse because you’d bet he looks cute when he cries, him and his stupid Botticelli angel face.

And, oh, that’s not really the right move.

He doesn’t remember when watching someone cry would be enough to get him off, except for an adult video he watched had a girl get fucked so good he could watch tears leak out of her eyes, openly sobbing when she squirted because that faceless phallus hit the right spot inside her.

Or when his ex-girlfriend was on her fourth orgasm of the night and she cried just a little while his face was between her legs.

He needed a stress reliever that day, it was a tough time; and he’s never really had to think while going down on someone.

Leon shifts a little and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that he’s not seriously getting bricked up by you crying. Nope, it’s not going down, shit, he hopes you don’t notice.

You stifle sobs into your palms for a good thirty minutes, face and ears hot enough to power a fucking house. You take a break to wipe your eyes with your sleeve, sniffling wetly before you reach over to blow your nose. “‘M sorry,” You tell him, voice wobbling before you blow your nose and toss the used tissue away.

“It’s fine.” Leon tells you, his voice just a little strained. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his lap and prays you don’t notice that he’s bricked up just from you crying. God, Leon, that’s so fucked up. At least those girls—nameless pornstar and ex-girlfriend—were enjoying it, you’re crying because you’re sad and mentally ill.

Again, fucked up.

You cry a little harder when he’s being so kind to comfort you, hiding your face in his shoulder as you sniffle and keep the sobbing to a minimum. When your tears come to an end, that’s when you notice that he’s fully hard beneath you. You lift your head up after a pause, wiping one eye as you look at Leon. “Leon… are you…?”

He can’t quite hide a grimace. “I’m—um, I’m really—I’m not—“ And when he catches sight of your red face and tear-streaked cheeks, he nearly groans, his throat suddenly dry. That’s when he flips you onto your back.

You land in the pillows with a soft grunt, giving him a bewildered look. “What are you doing?” You ask him in a little voice, sniffling and wiping your runny nose.

“Do you ever stop feeling sorry for yourself?” He asks you, one hand planting in the pillow beside your head, the other untucking his shirt.

Your stomach turns and he can visibly see his words hit the mark. “What?” You ask him, eyes close to brimming with tears again.

“Jesus,” Leon swears, undoing his belt buckle one handed cause he’s had enough practice. “You wanna know what I think? I think you like wallowing, I think you like having people consoling you.” His belt comes undone with a rattle, his button and fly next.

You stare at him with your mouth agape before a couple tears slip out. He takes the chance to push up your shirt and lets out a groan when he sees the cute black bra you’re wearing, hands wandering up to squeeze handfuls of your tits.

You yelp, back arching of your own accord—he’s glad that worked, you told him enough of what you liked when venting about your ex-boyfriends not being able to find the clit or eat pussy right.

He’s never had that problem, obviously.

A slightly mean smile crawls across his face before he leans down to lick a tear track up. “Poor, unloved little thing.” He coos, sticking his hands down the front of your sweatpants to find you damp.

Leon rubs circles on your clit to see you grind your teeth and twitch, one of his hands still on your tit as you try not to react further. “You just sit here in your depression cave and feel bad for yourself, huh? Do you even open up your curtains to get some sun? The sun’s real nice, a natural antidote to depression.”

Humiliation and an orgasm lick up your spine a few seconds after he’s done talking, body locking up as your hands fist in the sheets. He tuts at you and sticks his used finger in your mouth, kneeling between your spread legs as he pulls down your sweatpants with the other hand.

Aw, you left a cute little wet spot on your panties, just for him.

You lift up your hips when he tells you to, he throws the flimsy garments on the floor where they land with a soft slap. “C’mon, I know how make you feel better.” He tells you, one hand cupping your knee to put one over his shoulder as he finally pulls down his jeans and boxers to mid-thigh.

Leon sinks in with a stifled groan, then wraps your other leg around his waist, turning his head and kissing your knee once he’s balls-deep.

Your chest heaves and he kisses your collarbone—poor thing, it must be a little much for you, he’s not even moving.

You scrabble at him when he finally does move, nails catching on his shirt before you manage to tug him closer. Each short, staccato thrust makes the bed rock and punches little squeaks from you.

Your door’s open, but he doesn’t feel like closing it, so he puts a hand over your mouth as he covers your body with his, hips grinding to hear you whimper against his palm. “I know, I know, baby.” he tells you, lips ghosting over your cheek before he licks up more salty tears that overflow. “I’ve got you. You’re all empty inside, I’ll fill you up.”

But not before you come, Leon’s a gentleman like that. He loops his arm beneath you and pulls you into his thrusts, you grow a little louder beneath his palm. He shifts so his pubic bone can grind a little harder against your clit and your thigh twitches before you sob against his palm, brows furrowing as you lurch up, more tears squeezing out.

He fucks you through it before pulling out and painting your tummy white, collapsing by your side and panting softly. You sniffle loudly and Leon feels a little bad, rolling over when you do and spooning you from behind, his release staining your sheets as you cry quietly.

He holds you through it, kissing your shoulder and the nape of your neck before hiding his face in your hair. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles after a long silence, “I was out of line.”

You shake your head and stay silent, wiping your eyes as you two cuddle in silence.

[tangerine-brooks]

i hate it HATE IT so much when asoiaf fans go "grrm finish the fucking books already" and "lmao we'll never get twow" and "what if grrm dies and doesn't finish the story" and if i see this shit one more time i'll start biting people, because SHUT UP LET HIM COOK let him take his time!! this is so mean-spirited like here's the author that gave us so so many wonderful heartwrenshing captivating profoundly human stories but instead of being supportive and grateful you bitch and moan about how long it takes him to write more???

people on tumblr make such long post that analyze every word in these books, because literally every word is so thought-out it's either a foreshadowing or a subtle but real reflection of the pov character's constantly evolving inner life or has some otherwise deeper meaning to it; and the same thoughtfulness goes for every chapter, every plot point, every character interaction! and then the same people wonder why it takes grrm so long to write it?? seriously??

and if you ever attempted to write anything real and sincere you know that it doesn't come easy. and all the emotional complexity and depths that make characters feel so human and their struggles so real peaking at "ned loves my hair" and "i dreamed of you" and "he wondered what it's like to have a home" and every line that is so simple but so sharp and raw it makes me wanna pull my hair scream cry sob throw up - none of it comes easy!! it takes time and effort and emotional work to write like this! of course it takes long!

not to mention that grrm's in his seventies and likely has some health issues that take time and energy to manage and that he doesn't mention publically because why would he? ALSO when you get older you tend to get tired more easily! and need more time to rest! like, that's why people usually retire in their sixties. but grrm keeps working! ALSO have you never experienced a burn out or a creative block after years of working on the same thing??

ALSO one of asoiaf's main theme is that any person in any circumstances deserves empathy and understanding!!

so while we all are waiting for next books it's so important to show our amazing beloved author respect and support and gratitude! all say thank you, thank you george rr martin and please take care and take your time!!

[we-out-here-simping]

Kiss it away, honey.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

summary: you have a perfect and loving boyfriend, and everything should be great but something is just not right.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: use of y/n, no pronouns used (gn!reader), use of pet names (honey, etc), codependency, dark themes, a new flavor of jealousy, horror (spookies and scawies), gore, murder

a/n: yall remember when i was yapping about clones and all that? yeah. I went a lil feral while writing this lmao✌️🤪

another banger by @procrastinationprincesses and I on tumblr dot com. Thank her for listening to me babble on and just helping me sift through the different routes this could go and also being what is basically my proofreader

i might write a part two of this. do not ask me when.

masterlist

You haven’t changed out of your work clothes yet, staring at the phone on the wall. 

It was silent now but it had rung, blaring, louder than you'd ever heard it before. Five times it had rung.

5 calls– 5 missed calls. Unknown number. No voicemail.

You hadn't picked up. You had just stared, you weren’t sure why– the ringing scared you. you weren't sure why but every fiber in your being had coloured you stuck– immovable even if you wanted to do otherwise.

Now it had stopped, empty as vacuum, dead quiet left in the wake of those shrill rings.

And just when you were about to let out a sigh of relief, just when you thought you could finally get to changing out of your work clothes, it started ringing again, your temples hurt from its shrill notes. 

Your nostrils flared, you will not cower, no, you huff of frustration before stomping towards the phone. Its red plastic is just as bright as it had been when you had first gotten it with Steve.

It's probably just a prank call. It's a prank call. A stupid kid doing a stupid prank call. Why the hell is your heartbeat so loud? 

You pick up the receiver, gripping it tight, ready to give the prank caller a piece of your mind.

Hello? Hey you stupid shithole, find something better to do with your stupid, pathetic life, why dont ya’? Good fucking night.

“He– hello?”, your voice comes out nowhere near as fierce as you had wanted it to be.

The line is silent for a second or two. But then you hear a gasp and then some rustling, crackle. You strain your ears, the sounds seemingly impossible to decipher, “hello, who– who is this?”

You think you hear muffled crying, after a few seconds they finally speak up, “y/n”, their voice is of a woman's. “y/n–” is all they choke out before breaking out into a sob. She says your name as if she hasn't said it in a long while, as if she can't believe she’s saying it. And you don’t know why but you feel your eyes sting. You press the receiver closer to your ears, the plastic creaks under your grip. you think you recognise her. The realisation hits you that you do. She sounds familiar.

“y/n, my baby where–” you hear a click, followed by beep beep beep beep, indicating that the call has been disconnected. This time you blink, a tear finally trickles down your cheek. You stare at the receiver, the beeping barely audible. You take in a deep breath, and dial the number again, waiting for the ring or the woman’s voice.

The ring never comes, her voice never comes. Invalid number.

You stare at it. If you were to look any harder, you think the plastic would melt. Too many thoughts were running through your head. And why the hell are you crying?

You hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the door opening. You tear your burning gaze away from the phone to the clock. 7:08 p.m. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah!” he answers back immediately, you hear the door shut, the keys in his hand jingle again followed by the clink of them landing in the ceramic ashtray-turned-bowl next to the door where you keep your keys. 

Any other day you would have walked to him, and even if he’d be in the middle of taking his shoes off he’d stop, give you a loving smile, hold his arms up, ready to engulf you into a hug. Any other day, you would have wrapped your arms around his torso, kissed his shoulder before burying your nose into his neck. 

He is the only one who could ever fix you, everyday you come from work, bags under your eyes, tired to your bones and everyday he comes and puts you all back together as if it was the easiest thing to do, as if he was made for it. And you want to go to him so bad. Any other day, you would have. But today doesn't seem like any other day. 

“Hey honey”, he finally comes around the corner and he gives you that smile you love being on the receiving end of, all lazy and adorning, “haven't changed out yet?” 

You look back down at yourself, and you see that you had still been stuck, body still facing the wall where the phone hung. you indeed haven't changed out yet. You barely shake your head before his brows scrunch up, “You okay? Your eyes look all red”

You blink before shaking your head, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’ll go ch–”

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

What you were saying is left abandoned, your head snaps towards where the phone is. 

“I’ll get it. You go change,” Steve tells you, not noticing your immediate panic. As he ambles to the phone, you slowly shuffle away– moving towards the bathroom, making sure to listen in on the conversation. “Hello?” you hear him speak into the receiver, he pauses for a second and so do you in your tracks, “..oh hey, Henderson'', you breathe out in relief at hearing the familiar name, “Yeah, yep, doing good. How’s the new place treatin’ ya?”

The audibility of his words lessens as you continue on your way to the bathroom. In the small, tiled room, your own breathing echoes, it engulfs you. you immediately regret not just changing in your room because you can't hear Steve’s voice anymore. But you have already locked the door. You weren’t sure why you did– maybe it was your uneasiness and apprehension but normally you never lock the door because your ever clingy Steve loves joining you in, majority of the time there is nothing sexual about it. Most of the time he just stands there by the door, that same adorning smile on his lips.

When you step out of your jeans, it rings in your brain, again and again. The piercing ringing of the phone, the woman’s voice. You know that voice. You know that voice. You know that woman, you are certain. It is like its on the tip of your tongue, like it is obscured behind a frosted glass, like an itch you can’t scratch. 

A knock on the bathroom door breaks you out of your thoughts, “uh honey?” the voice comes muffled through the wood, “Are you done? Need to take a piss.”

“Yeah, just–” you quickly hop into your shorts, balling up your dirty clothes and tossy them into the laundry basket before unlocking the door. 

And he is there, that smile blooms across his face, “there you are”, and then his lips are on yours, his wide palm comes to hold your face, thumb rubbing softly at your cheeks— he’s a tactile being, your boyfriend, loves holding your face, loves holding you, touching you anywhere. 

When his fingers burrow into your hair behind your ear, you somehow manage to breathe out between the deepening kisses, “Thought you had to take a piss”

“Don't bring up pissing when I’m kissing you”

“Oh, but its okay when you wanna hold my hand while pooping?” He once told you he’d hold your hand while pooping if you’d let him– he had been absolutely drunk, maybe high off weed– inebriated, really and didn't remember saying it the next day. you love to tease him about it. he groans at the mention.

“I was high”, he whines, embarrassed,  “I told you I didn't mean it.”

“Drunk words… sober thoughts, honey.”

“You said it was endearing”

“It is endearing but still a weird thing to say”, you laugh all toothy and cute.

“Whatever, I gotta piss”, he mumbles trying his best to hide his smile before moving you by your shoulders to swap places with you so it’s him who is in the bathroom. He shuts the door, the sound of the lock clicking never reaches your ears.

You’re left alone with your thoughts again, and your smile fades away– you’re anxious, you know that much. You’re not so sure of what exactly. You plop down on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing restlessly, finger tracing over the pattern of the sheets. The pillows and comforter are set up perfectly for the night– every morning Steve sets the bed while you shower knowing you always get frustrated with the task. 

Your back sinks into the mattress, you breathe out, deep and slow, eyes closing on their own accord. You almost fall asleep for a second, but the bathroom door clicks open. A few seconds later, the bed dips beside you, the fabric rustles, “tired?” the question is followed by a groan. When you peak a look, you find him stretching out his arms beside you.

“Absolutely”, you answer.

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs out.

“We still have to make food.”

He lets a frustrated groan tumble from his lips, “can't we just have mac and cheese today?”

…

The night goes by in a breeze, not a lot of talking. 

The love is still there though, in the way that Steve holds the corner of the open cabinet door to make sure your head doesn't hit it, in the way he lets you sit on the countertop while waiting for the water to boil over, in the way you stare at him when you think he isn't looking, in the way you pull his hand over your lap and massage the tight muscles of his palm while he stirs the pot with his other hand. 

You put on his favourite show when he plates the food, he makes sure to put some chives on your plate to make it look a little more pretty for you. You watch the show in silence, eating under the flickering light of the tv. You let it play in the background while you wash the dishes, it is Steve who watches you this time, his head resting against the cabinets behind him. and he thinks he could watch you all day. Something about doing the most mundane things with you makes him feel all warm and lovely. He is sure that past anything grand and dramatic, its the everyday things that show love. He hopes in every world, he gets to hold you and love you. He thinks he'll give it all up just to be with you, just to watch you wash dishes, just to have you sit beside him while he cooks.

When the dishes are done, he makes sure the doors are locked, you turn off the lights and the TV. Before you know it you’re in bed, and before you know it, you’re already falling asleep. 

…

At first you weren’t sure why you were awake. Then you hear shuffling behind you, and you barely even roll over when there is a warm hand on your hip, “honey,” he whispers– voice all scratchy and low that makes you melt, you hum for a response, “I’m sorry honey, wake up please”, his tone is slightly rushed, you’re a bit more awake at that. 

Barely did you sit up when he engulfs you in a tight hug. You hold him back without a thought or hesitation. Your hand rubs his back, his arms tighten around you, nose nudging into your neck, his skin warm. your fingers find their place in his messy head of hair like they always do, you card through the strands. He pulls you closer, and then you're in his lap. He holds you like a boy holds his favourite toy– like he doesn't plan on letting go.

“Want some water?” After some time you ask softly. You feel him nod into the junction of your neck.

He loosens his hold on you enough for you to climb out of his lap. Not saying a word, he follows you to the kitchen, and he stays close when you pour him a glass. He is mid-gulp when you ask, “nightmare?”

He nods once, the rogue strands on his forehead bouncing with the movement, and downs the water before saying a soft ‘yeah’.You take the glass from his hands and place it in the sink, and lead him back to bed. 

You brush aside his disheveled hair. You tuck yourself into his side, an arm around him, “wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, fringernails scratching his faint stubble.

In the dim of the room, you see his adam's apple bob. Apparently, he does want to talk about it, because he nods– the movement barely noticeable but there. You put your head back on his chest and you wait patiently, trying your best not to fall back to slumber.

It takes him a while before he starts, “You were…”  his hand moves to hold yours, “you were sick–in the hospital, these wires and tubes attached to you. Y-You had been there for months. You were sick and you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. And– and…. Then the– the damn heart monitor–”

“Honey–” 

His words are frantic and uneven, “I didnt– I didnt know what to do after. I didn’t–”

“Steve—” you hold his face to make him look at you, “I'm here.”

He licks his lips, then swallows, nodding. he pushes his face forward so your foreheads are touching. “I know", his nose is hot against yours, "it was still awful.”

You both lay that way for a while. Your thumb brushing against his red cheek, he sniffles a couple times. you hate seeing him this way, with his lashes clumped together, his beautiful eyes all red. The moisture glistening under his eyes doesn't let you fawn over his freckles like you'd normally wish to.

When his skin is a little less warm, and his heartbeat calmer beneath your fingertips, you kiss him. Your hand snakes up to hold his face. Fingers, softly rubbing over the spot behind his ear that makes him melt. You kiss him all slow and purposefully, so he knows that he has all the time in the world.

When you pull away, he murmurs, “Can we go back to sleep?” he pulls you closer, face burying into your neck, warm puffs of breath against your collarbones.

You land a quick kiss on his eyebrow before resting your chin above his head, “‘course”

...

You wake up to the alarm clock on Steve’s side of the bed. He turns off the thing before rolling around in your arms onto his back and then turning his head to face you. “Hi”, he smiles that way again and you do the same, sleepy as ever.

“Hi”, you say still half asleep– you ended up not getting a lot of sleep last night. Thankfully you had the day off today, so you plan on being unproductive and sleeping it away.

He stretches, a yawn escaping him, “Jesus, I so don't wanna go to work today”, your boyfriend laments.

You hum, “then don't go” you propose, eyes still closed, “We can both have a day off”

He turns his body so it faces you, leaning on his elbow. His hand moves to your waist before massaging the love handle there “hmm, tempting. I can't though”

“No fun”, you mumble groggily.

“Hey, don't fall asleep on me”, he brushes the hair that falls on your face with the back of his hand.

"But ‘m sleepy", you mumble into the pillow.

"Aw, don't worry, I will kiss it away, honey." He leans down, a smirk painted across his features. His soft lips land on your cheeks first, then one on your nose, they follow a trail that leads to your lips.

You hide your face in the pillow before your lips could meet though, “No, No kissing!” you giggle, holding up your palm to his face, effectively blocking his attacks, “no kissing before brushing your teeth!"

“You're no fun”, he rolls out of the twist of sheets. He stretches his arms, the muscles rippling beneath the skin– he's trying to entice you, seduce you. and if you weren't so damn sleepy, you would have climbed him up like a koala. He gets up to go to the bathroom. When he notices that you haven't moved, he pulls you by your ankle. You let out a surprised shriek that transforms into giggles when you feel his fingers creeping up your torso– tickling you. ”Here comes the tickle monster!” 

A fit of giggles erupts from your throat, "What are you–", your question gets interrupted by your own laughs.

"The tickle monster will not relent unless you wake up!"

“No! Okay, okay, I'm awake! Steve! I am awake!”

The two of you share the cramped space of the bathroom. It is small, but its the best you could afford. So when you brush your teeth together, you try to relish it when your elbows bump. And when you're done, he kisses you as if he waited ages. 

By now, you're a bit more awake so you decide to get his breakfast ready while he takes a shower. It's simple enough, waffles with banana and some coffee. When he comes back out, he kisses you again when he sees you at the stove, this time on the crown of your head.

When he is getting his keys to leave, he gives you another peck, “drive safe", you murmur against his lips..

“I will. You get some sleep, yeah?” you hum and nod in response. You both bid your goodbyes before he turns to leave.

You decide to eat the leftover waffles and clean up a little before returning to your bed. You make yourself a plate with the bananas neatly cut and placed beside the waffles. You drizzle maple syrup, and then start eating the sickly sweet breakfast, skipping the coffee. While you're pouring yourself a second helping of the maple syrup, the expiration date on the bottle catches your eye. expired more than a year ago. ew. 

Your face scrunches in disgust before immediately throwing it in the trash. And you wonder how the hell either of you hadn't gotten food poisoning yet. then it hits you, from what you remember you bought that bottle only a couple months ago. Did you buy an already expired one?

You open the fridge, the condiments and bottles staring at you. One by one, you check each and every one; ketchup, expired. Hot sauce, expired. Whipped cream, chocolate sauce, milk– expired, expired, expired. 

What the fuck?

You throw it all out and make a point to call Steve later to buy everything as he often calls to ask if you had to get something from the store. And that makes you wonder, when was the last time you actually told him he needed to get something?

You try not to think too much about it. Honestly, you don't know what to make of it, so you decide to go back to sleep.

…

You hear your name. Its faint. It echoes. Like a whisper in a church.

“y/n”, you know that voice. “I– I know you’re there, y/n”, the woman says, all shaky but sure. “y/n”, she repeats. Its that voice… again. 

Who are you?

“Its me, y/n! Its me!” she exclaims as if that would make you remember.

I don't ... understand.

“Baby, just tell me where you are– I'll find you.”

I’m home.

“Home? No– no baby, you’re not. You haven't been home—” her voice gets cut off. It becomes too loud. You feel as if the veins in your temple are going to explode. Its too loud to even tell what it is you’re hearing. Its a static like a radio or a TV, or maybe its wind, maybe its cars, maybe its screams. You think you hear sirens– you wonder if they’re the police or an ambulance. You hear your own breathing, your own heartbeat. Its deafening. And beneath it all, you hear….. Ringing.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. 

Your eyes fling open and you see your ceiling, you smell the faded mixture of your perfume and Steve's cologne. You’re in your bed. You still hear the ringing. The phone.

You are up in a second. Rushing towards the origin of the sound. When you’re there, you dont wait a second, the plastic is already to your ear.

“Hell– hello?” it comes out all out of breath and broken.

“Honey, you’re– you okay?” its not the voice of that woman.

“...Steve?”

“Who else?”, he chuckles, “you okay?”

“Uh– yeah,”you clear your throat, “I was um– sleeping. I think I just had a dream..” your hand creeps up to the back of your neck, scratching there to try to alleviate a little bit of the ache.

“Oh, well okay sleepy. I just wanted to check if you need me to buy anything? Like, groceries or whatever on my way back.” you give him the entire list of everything you wanted him to get. You would've talked more if Steve hadn't been interrupted by a customer. Nevertheless, you said your 'I love you's and the call ended.

Your heart is still loud in your ears but the ache has dulled down for the most part.

that voice. that woman. 

Its me. 

I’ll find you. 

You haven't been home.

"Home..", you say out loud to yourself. Home.

...

Hours have passed. you think you’re losing your mind because you have turned the apartment upside down. you're surrounded by boxes, most of them filled with normal things, your tattered rollerskates, shoes, old clothes. Most of it was normal, except one.

One unlabeled box you found in the corner of your closet. You haven't touched that box in ages, not since your fallout with your family, lying out of sight and out of mind. It didn't have a lot, all packed in a hurry. things you'd had in your room. picture frames, some books, clothes, papers.

You pick up a frame. The picture was from when you were a twelve-year-old. Wearing what were your favourite clothes back then, your hair in a manner that made you feel a little sorry. You're so different now, yet somehow its still you. There's your older sister, her braces glimmering under the flash of the old camera– her smile wide. Your dad, who doesn't ever know how to pose in pictures. Your mom, she holds you and your sister by your shoulders, a soft smile on her lips, her makeup done perfectly. Another picture from your high school. Another of you with your sister and cousins. 

You pull out the books, the pages are slightly yellowed and they have an earthy smell to them that you love. Pages you don't remember reading, dog-eared and written in.

Then there's the papers– some doodles, some notes, a few maps, some scraps and then.... a file. the file that has your name written on it. And when you open it; medical papers. medical bills. They are a little more than a year old. This wasn't a small stay apparently. From what you can tell from the dates on the bills, it lasted months. You don't remember going to the hospital.

Okay, what the actual fuck?

You find yourself reading through all the details of the paper on the floor of your closet.

months. you had been there for months. Steve's dream.

The entire time, you read and re-read the papers. Why don't you remember any of this? Why does Steve not remember any of this? Maybe he does, he had that dream after all, right? Why are there no discharge papers?

Hours pass. It's maddening, how slow the time passes. Its absolutely maddening. What the fuck does it mean that you haven't been home? You are home. and who the fuck was that woman?

You look through the box again, its contents scattered around you by now. The photos. Your family. Your parents. You miss them. You haven't seen them in so long...

Some broken memories have come to you. You had left– run away. You don't remember why. Then you met Steve when you were stopping by in Hawkins for a few months. You fell in love so quickly. Then one day, you asked if he wanted to run away with you. He said yes and you both left Hawkins and came here.

You don't remember much after that.

Wait, where is hawkins? and why did you go there?

...

It is 7 p.m. and you are pretty sure you have lost your mind. Why isn't Steve home yet? You need Steve. He's the only one who could ever fix you. And now, you need him to fix you again. You need him to fix this, to make some sense of this.

You are sitting by the door, eyes fixated on the hands of the clock.

7:01, nothing. Your arms fidget.

7:02, nothing. Your leg bounces.

7:03, 7:04, 7:05, 7:06, 7:07; nothing, nothing, nothing.

Then, 7:08 p.m., rattle of keys and the sound of the door being closed. Steve. Steve is home. Steve.

You're up on your feet instantly, Steve comes in holding a bag of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other, “I was so worried about you!” you say all hysterical.

“Worried, why?" he says, almost chuckling, but his brows furrow before he looks down at his wristwatch, shaking his head,"I don't think I’m late.” He leans in to land a kiss on your lips, but before he could do so, you turn your head away, “whats– whats wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” you wrap your arms around your torso to somehow collect your thoughts a little better. 

"Sure", he assures before moving to put the grocery bag on the beige kitchen counter. 

You follow behind him with hurried steps, "When did we buy groceries before this?"

He starts taking out the groceries, "um.. I don't–” he pauses, looking up as if trying to remember himself, “last month probably?" Confusion paints his face, "why?"

"All the stuff in our fridge had gone bad ages ago."

"What?"

“Have you talked to your friends recently? Where are they?” All your attempts to collect your thoughts are all for nought as questions come tumbling out of your lips and you don't even wait for Steve to give a response.

“Honey, why are you–”

“Okay, okay– what about that nightmare you had?”

“Nightmare?” he echoes, brows scrunching together as if he had no idea what you were talking about, “what nightmare?” he asks like he hadn't cried in your arms the previous night.

“Last night! You had a nightmare that I was in a hospital and– and then I was looking through our closet and I find these medical bills–

“Woah, honey. I didn’t have a nightmare. I think I'd remember something like that.. And– what bills?”

Your feet are moving before he even finishes his sentence, you grab the bundle of papers, you show him everything. And he just... stares at them. After some time, all that comes out of his mouth is a “what the fuck...” under his breath.

“I don't understand Steve, I don't remember, you don't remember. And there was this call yesterday–”

“Call? what– from who?”

“From– “ you pause, trying to remember, “ I– I dont…” from who? And then you feel everything you had recalled leaving you. Who called you? What was Steve's nightmare? 

“I don't remember!" you exclaim, frustrated, "why do– I'm so– I'm scared Steve. I’m–”

“Hey, it's okay. you have me honey, you have me”, he holds you by your shoulders, to provide you some semblance of comfort, "we'll figure something out.”

“Steve….”, you mumble, tears starting to collect on your lash line, “something's not right Steve…”

“Its okay..”

“No, no– I dont– I keep forgetting stuff. Why don't I remember anything?”

“Hey, honey—”

“And whatever I do remember; none of it makes sense– nothing makes sense!"

“Its okay–”

“Do not tell me to breathe–”, “breathe for me–” you warn him the exact same time he says it.

You have lost it. You have lost your mind. Eyes wide, you ask, “Why do I already know what you’re going to say? How is that– “

“Hey, hey look at me”, he holds your face in his warm palms, “Breathe for me”, he instructs, “please honey.”

“Steve”, you pull his hands away from your face not because you don't want him to hold you. You do, you want him to hold you forever, but dammit, you feel like you’re going crazy, “where did we meet?”

“Honey–”

“Where did we meet?”

“Family video! We met in Family Video! You just came in one day and asked if I could help you pick out a movie to lift your mood up”

“Where is family video? Like, what town? Wh– what state?”

“..Hawkins, Indiana”

“Steve.. There's no town named Hawkins in Indiana”

“Of course ther–”

“No– no. You can look in a map steve. There was a map in one of those boxes. No town named Hawkins. And then– those papers...” you gesture towards the papers in his hand. You stand there, impatiently so, as he scans over the papers once again. For a split second, you think you see a tinge of recognition in his eyes.

“What does it mean, Steve? Then your dream last night–”, he hands you the papers before turning towards the door.

“Steve, hey, steve!” He heads towards the apartment door. “Steve, come back here!” he doesn't stop, doesn't even spare a glance, his movement robotic. Your voice gets louder, more authoritative, angry “Steve! Come back here right the hell now.”

He doesn't stop, not for his keys, not to tie his shoes. Not for you. Tears cloud your vision and your words come out all desperate and weak, “Steve please! Please don't leave me..”

The door slams shut. Its loud, the silence after it. 

“No..” you whimper to yourself. Tears, finally streaming down your face.

He'll come back, you know he'll come back, sooner or later. He’ll come back to you. Steve wouldn't leave you. He couldn't.

You wait by the door. hours pass. You fall asleep waiting for him.

…

You wake up to the smell of something sweet in the air. When you open your eyes, you’re on the couch. But you don't have time to think about whether your neck will hurt for the rest of the day because Steve is there, standing over the stove– his back facing you. 

“Steve?” your voice comes out croaky.

“Y’wake baby?” he turns to take a glance at you. The furrow between his brows you saw the previous night gone. He smiles softly when you nod dumbly at the rhetorical question, “Well brush your teeth I’m making pancakes”

“Steve..” 

He notices that you don’t move, your gaze fixed on him. “Hey, what's wrong?” he leaves the batter he was working on on the counter before walking towards you, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry”

He kneels down infront of you, holding your hands in his– he smells like vanilla from up this close, “Sorry, for what?”

“Yesterday… I didn't mean to upset you. I just– I was–”

“What would I be upset for?”

“Last night.. I–”

“baby, I’m not upset”

“But you just left and..” you sniffle, “when did you come back?”

“I didn't leave. I was here the entire time”, he shook his head, confused.

“But– I… “

“I think you had a dream honey. Freshen up, kay? I’ll bring breakfast. I think we should rot in bed the entire day today. Get some sleep. How’s that sound, honey?”

You nod, he smiles as he pulls you in for a quick kiss, “Good thing we both have the day off– thank jesus for sundays”

…

7:08 p.m. that is what Steve's wristwatch reads and he is standing at your apartment door. Steve isn't sure why he is back. He isn't sure why he left. Maybe he needed some time. And spending nearly an entire day alone... he remembers things. things he wishes he could forget again.

Although Steve is unsure about a lot of things. one thing is for certain. He loves you. He loves you like he was made for it... and he was.

He was made for loving you and not loving you is not living. He's been there before, not having you to love, he remembers the torture of it. You still don't recall it yet and he doesn't want you to, but he does. He remembers it all. All the hurt, the loneliness, the grief, the silence.

The grief that was too much to bear. Silence was unbearable when it wasn't mixed with your heartbeat.

When he turns the door handle– the door isn't locked. He steps in slowly.

He can hear the TV playing, you're on the couch. there's someone else with you. Its him.

Steve watches as he sits between your thighs on the couch– his place, your fingers playing with his hair. He readjusts his head as if can’t quite find a comfortable spot, “You okay?” you ask as gently as you always do.

“Uh, yeah its just–” he sounds just like him, “I just have this nick in my neck”, he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Here, let me…” you mumble sweetly as your expert fingers move to where he said it ached.

He sees you dig that spot a little with your thumb, “Ah, thanks honey” he almost melts, and it makes him groan the way that always drew a groan out of Steve.

Steve doesn't mind you made him, you probably didn't even know you did, you're powerful like that. But Steve feels something bubble inside him– maybe this is what jealousy feels like. Steve watches, watches as you touch him. He digs his nails into his palm, he feels the urge to touch where you are touching him. He wonders what he would feel when his thumb would run over that area.

His fingers rise on their own accord. Skin barely touching skin, almost hovering. And then he feels… a bump. He isn't sure how to describe it but he knows that that isn't supposed to be there. Not normally, anyway.

He watches as your expert fingers move up into his hair, he always loved when you did that to him. 

His own fingers move higher into his hair. He feels another– another protrusion, another bump.

Steve knows what those are, he knows not to press down on them. You have them too. You have them where he holds you when he kisses you. Its the reason you don't remember, its the reason he didn't remember. Just for a day, he didn't have you to hold him like the way you always do and now he remembers.

Steve watches as he leans down to kiss you. And all Steve sees is red. He doesn’t have control over him as he stomps over to where the two of you were. Your heads snap towards the sound. Confusion flashes through both your features.

“y/n”, Steve says. He watches as your eyes flick between himself and the other. Your eyes land on his. Of course you know he is the real Steve. You made him.

He holds a protective hand infront of you, “y/n”, he sounds like him, “y/n, get inside”, he nods towards your bedroom door. 

“Look, man I dont know who the fuck you are. But you need to leave”, Steve hates him, he sounds nothing like him. objectively that might not be true, but he isn't him.

“You don't know who I am? Fucking look at me"

“y/n get inside”, Steve doesn't like how he says your name, how he shouts it. It sounds nothing like him. 

Steve lets you go, he doesn’t want you to see this. 

You can't look away despite not being able to see much through the sliver of the slightly ajar bedroom door. It is only when he lands a punch on Steve, that you move away from the door– eyes closing on themselves.

You hear shouts. Then thuds, knuckles hitting jaws. Some more thuds and then a loud crack. Then nothing. Its becomes too quiet. 

You quietly step even further away from the door when you hear footsteps approaching, until you feel your back hit the wall. 

The hinges of the slightly ajar door creak. and he is there. Your Steve.

He has a split lip, bruises blooming on his cheekbones. Blood splattered on his jeans, on his hands, his arms. He lifts his arm to wipe his bleeding lip, more so smearing the blood in the process. Your eyes water, heartbeat too damn loud in your ears, eyes wide as a doe.

“It's Steve. your Steve”, he reassures you, holding your face by your chin. From up this close, the blood on him doesn't look quite like blood. Its too dark, too shiny, more viscous than it should be and it doesn't seem to clot. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But you already know that. dont you, honey?” Steve coos oh so gently as he thumbs over your cheeks to rid you of the tear stains. He feels sorry when the action instead makes the blood on his hands smear across your skin. He regrets it immediately, to have tainted you with it. He is sorry you have to see all this, to see him like this.

Steve knows he'll give it all up for you. If he ever had something to give, he would give it all up, just like you did.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

“It's for you, honey.”

He moves aside so you can go to the phone. It rings loud as it did earlier. You move past the kitchen, you don't see him– not entirely. He is on the floor, you see his hand around the corner of the kitchen counter, lifeless, a pool of that blood surrounding him. The corner of the kitchen counter drips with the liquid, forming a stark contrast against the light beige.

You move past the kitchen counter, eyes not daring to look at him or Steve, you don't turn around to see if Steve is there watching. You know he is.

You move to the bright red phone that is still ringing, blaring. You pick it and hold it up to your ear, “hello?”

“y– y/n? y/n its– it's me”, that woman says. And somehow, now, you know who she is. “it's me, do you–”

“Mom?” you say it before you even realise you did.

“Oh my goodness! Yes baby, it's– it's me!”

“I’m sorry mom, I had to.”

“y/n, what–”

“I have to go now.”

“y/n, no– no. Please don't hang up–” click.

“There you go honey", you feel Steve's warm hands on your shoulder, he rubs into the tense muscles there– surely staining your shirt with the liquid, "there you go."

You turn around and you see his eyes-- beautiful coffee coloured things, moles littered across his skin just the way you've memorized to heart. That smile, adorning and warm as ever. He holds you like he always does, thumb on your cheek, palm holding your face. 

He holds you like he was made for it. Your cheek fit perfectly in his palm as if you were made for him. You were made for each other.

You lean in closer and then your lips meet. It isn't hard and fast. Its slow and deep. Like you have all the time in the world, and you do.

When you pull apart and look at him, its just him. Your Steve.

You don't even remember what it was you had been worried about. All you see is Steve, all you feel is Steve. Your lover, your home, your family, your everything. It's all Steve.

You smile up at Steve and everything is right. The blood he had smeared on you was gone. The counter was clean. He was gone. Everything is right, once again.

"So", he starts, walking towards the stove, "what are we feelin' today? pancakes with blueberries, strawberries, or plain ol' choco-chip?"

"Is there an ‘all of the above’ option?"

"For you? always."

...

[thesherrinfordfacility]

I’ve been having this doubt ever since season 2 came out (I should probably solve it by doing a tumblr poll but I don’t have enough followers for the answers to be significant so I thought I would just ask).

So to the point now: did people actually cry about the ending? (talking abt good omens here ofc). I’ve seen so many posts, both from around those days and still now, where everyone says how it made them cry/sob/just sad in general, and I’m too autistic to understand if they mean it literally or not.

Personally I haven’t cried but then I’ve never been a very sensitive person so I’m not a fair judge. I can understand how the ending is heartbreaking (believe me, as a queer person brought up in catholicism, the story really resonates with me) but I don’t feel the sadness myself.

That being said, I would love to know if this is truly different for other people, if it actually made them emotional in the way they mention in their posts or if it’s more of a common used exaggeration.

oh anon my love idk if im a big enough blog to get any kind of decent reach but i'll give it a go, i'd be interested to know too!!!

i know ive exaggerated my reaction on here (iirc i didn't cry at the confession/kiss/leaving for heaven parts - but definitely felt a huge Sad about it... plus frustration, incredulity, anger etc), but i have absolutely cried when writing meta about it, or daydreaming how they'd talk it out in s3 (these characters are healing something in me lmao)

rb for sample size etc etc

[be-curious-and-not-judgemental]

Lots of commentary on Penelope and Colin lately. I thought I'd throw my two cents in (I'm old and have lived the Fandom life before Tumblr existed).

My thoughts? Book wasn't great, but out of the ones I read, their book was the best for me (don't get me started on Benedict's book, oof). I like how the show has made Colin and Penelope true friends, definitely more than what happened in the book.

In the book, I think the world of Penelope. And the fun-loving Colin too, although I was a bit... disturbed at jealous, angry Colin. In the show, I think they gave much of Colin's charms to Benedict but I still like Colin's kind of moral compass. He's young and impulsive and generally a good person. He's a great son to Violet, a great brother and a good friend to Pen. He is also a little clueless about his true emotions. He says things without meaning offense, not necessarily thoughtless or unkind, just lacking insight. So what we interpret is this great guy who unknowingly leads Pen on. I don't think he means to, she's his very close friend. But unfortunately, he does sort of push the boundaries of propriety with her. Holds her hand, takes her into private rooms and closes the door, tells her how special she is. I can only imagine how confused Penelope would be. Everything points to his growing affection. Until she hears him state otherwise. And regardless if he didn't mean for her to hear, it was kind of a cruel, especially the laughter. Ouch!

Now onto Penelope. She's allowed to be upset. She read the signals and unfortunately, she read them wrong. Everything she's ever known about courtship is from her perception of society. She watched Marina take Colin into a private room with the intent to seduce (and to this day, she would be clueless as to what happened in that room). So when Colin grabs her hand and takes her into a private room, well, she's thinking that Colin is into her! Then he dances with her, tells her she's special and he'll always look after her. I mean, she was riding Cloud Nine. So for her to hear him laugh about courting her, well, that's gotta be a tough pill to swallow. So let her have some anger and be upset. She's allowed emotions. Honestly, I'm sure even if she's angry at Colin (and Eloise), she's having just as hard time looking internally and discovering that part of her problems stem from her own issues and fallacy of reading too much into things. I mean, she's done some very questionable things. Things that were not pretty. She has hurt people with her lies. But she also isn't the villain that some people make her out to be. The show clearly shows her expressing remorse for doing awful things. She sobs after delivering the LW about Marina and is seen crying as she writes about Eloise. I'm not sure the show will have her apologize but I don't think they'll show as this selfish manipulator that a lot of people tend to see her as. She's supposed to make errors. She's young and for the first time in her short life has got people talking about something that she created. So she's probably making questionable choices with her skewed sense of importance.

All I want for season 3 is to see them fall in love. Not with an idealized sense of love (Penelope) but truly accepting each other's everything. I love a good Friends to Lovers trope, and I think Luke and Nicola are gonna be incredible. I'm excited (and I'd be more excited if they released a date, a picture, a hint, anything about season 3).

[sailtomarina]

I don’t want to be alone right now

fred weasley & hermione granger | friendship, fluff

He found her huddled in the garden, the curls a stark difference from the hydrangeas and rhododendrons flanking her on both sides. Ugly, gasping sobs rent the otherwise still space. It wasn’t yet midday, but rather that brief break after the morning bird calls and just before the afternoon drone of insects.

Fred didn’t know what had compelled him to walk out the back door. Call it a sixth sense, or whatever else. There was a tug; he followed.

Now, he stood watching her. Hermione. 

What is she doing here? he thought. Why is she crying?

Fred’s first impulse was to hunt down his baby brother and drag him outside. Surely he was the cause of all this, or, at the very least, knew what had happened. Fred could never figure out what it was that bound the two together aside from–and here, he scoffed–life and death. Without Harry Potter, without Hermione’s propensity to help, help, always help, the two shared very little in common.

He loved Ron, but he also knew Ron was a bit of a dunderhead.

“Hermione?” Crouching down, he tried to keep his voice soft. He didn’t want to scare her off.

She gasped anyway, face jerking up to reveal blotchy skin wet from distress. “F-Fred?”

He held both palms up in an entreaty. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He knew what her answer would be before she voiced it, because this was Hermione. She’d rather bear all the weight of her troubles until she collapsed rather than burden anybody else. She was like Harry, in that way. Maybe that was where Ron fit in–the only one of the three who sought help, and received their trust in kind.

“No, I-I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” Now she stood, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jumper. Her eyes darted around as if she was ashamed. He could tell she was looking for an avenue of escape.

“Don’t apologise. I come out here, too, sometimes.”

“You do?” There was so much hope in those two words.

“I do.” And he did. 

Of all his siblings, only he and Charlie seemed to take comfort in Mum’s garden. The others would rather sprint off to the fields for Quidditch, or to the orchard to get lost among the trunks and apple-laden branches. He did, as well, but when he wanted quiet–true quiet–he came here.

“Why?”

“It’s one of the only places where nobody thinks to look for me.” Except for George, of course. But George, unlike the rest, knew when to give him space without being told or asked for it. “Is that what you would prefer? For me to give you privacy?”

She chewed on her lip as she seemed to consider him. He observed her back, waiting patiently for her to reply. Moisture still clung to her lashes, framing her dark, gold-flecked eyes and making them appear even larger. They reminded Fred of fire sparks in the night.

“No. I don’t want to be alone right now, even though I did earlier.” The small smile she sent him felt like a win. Her cheeks flushed as he rewarded her with a grin of his own.

Almost shyly, she took his offered hand, biting her lip all the while. She allowed him to lead her over to the stone bench above which wisteria hung with its heavy perfume. She didn’t pull away when he continued to hold on.

“Now, who do I need to go and beat up?”

Her tinkling laughter was a balm that soothed as much as delighted. Fred didn’t know it yet, but this was the start of something lasting and beautiful, a connection that would save him when all seemed lost.

Written for Weasleys, Witches, & Writers 7.19.24 HumpDay prompt, “I don’t want to be alone right now

626 wc

Cross-posted on Facebook and Tumblr

[gok1bvri72]

🦋💍Going to Miku EXPO with Death the Kid💍🦋

TW: Uhhh, nothing really? Ig large crowds but idk if reading about them is at all as bad as actually being in them💀

Reader's Gender: It's irrelevant.

A/N: Okay I haven't used Tumblr in ages and I don't know why this was the first thing I decided to write when I logged in but yeah. Anyways I will actually be going to a Miku Expo, not saying which one but I am going to one regardless 😍😍 Anyways anyone else notice the odd amount of overlap between these fandoms? Maybe it's just me, but if it isn't I guess it makes sense. They were popular around the same time. Anyways enjoy ur rich emo skateboard boyfriend in a suit with guns spoiling u

--------------

Okay so I don't know how you managed to convince this man to date you but whatever. (Jealous.)

Anyways but Kid has a secret. Maybe not a well hidden one but he likes to still think it's one.

He has a ridiculous obsession with Hatsune Miku, specifically cuz of her twin tails. (This man has a thing for twin tails/pigtails/drills okay, you cannot convince me otherwise.)

So whether you like Miku or not, Kid is probably the one taking you to see her. Whether or not he's dragging you or you're running with him like little toddlers really depends on how you feel about Miku.

But even if you don't like her you should still go, do it for him:( You obviously love him if you're reading this unironically.

He's gonna be all decked out in Miku merch as symmetrically as possible. Glow sticks? He has two, one for each hand. T-shirt? Symmetrical Miku logo. The bag he brought to carry all his Miku merch? Yeah actually there's two, one for each arm💀

Even his sneakers are Miku branded...

Man has the money for it leave him and his secret room hidden in his closet full of Miku merch alone.

If you also happen to like Miku, he will gladly spoil you with all the merch and spam you with the latest songs from his favorite producers.

(He likes Oster P, Giga, and Kanaria if you're wondering.)

Unironically has World is Mine memorised and actually hits the notes somehow💀

Like idk if it's well but his flamboyant little gay man sounding voice stretches.

Regularly hits the Melt notes when he stubs his toes. (After he stubs one, he stubs the other for ✨symmetrical pain✨.)

Anyways you've both arrived at the concert and you better have your special earbuds that lower sound or man is gonna blow your ear drums out.

If it's Miku Expo 2024 he will cry. He /will/ cry.

The oversized TV is a disgrace.

Anyways whether it's over the pathetic ass home depot's largest TV on a stage or it's over seeing his fictitious waifu in person, he's sobbing.

Either wailing uncontrollably or screaming like the most obnoxious fanboy.

After the concert the two of you would probably wander around the venue and talk to other fans for a couple hours.

Bonus points if you're in Miku cosplay, man will be an even bigger simp than he already is for you.

He has his own personal Miku🥺

If anyone else from you two's friend group shows up at the Expo, he will lock himself in the men's bathroom and refuse to leave until the coast is clear.

Please don't let Soul or Black☆Star know.

The endless teasing will send his already neurotic brain spiralling.

Probably also folded all the toilet-paper in the men's restroom at the venue and if you're in Miku cosplay he's begging you to go into the women's bathroom and fold the toilet-paper in there too.

Genuinely cries if the merch booth is empty by the time he gets to it.

Probably takes you out for bubble tea afterwards and then if you're down heads back for his place so you can both crash, fully Miku'd out for the day.

Don't worry, you can sleep on his Miku x Helix mattress and use his Miku bedding and sleep with one of his thousands of Miku plushies😔

[konohamaru-sensei]

To me, Kimi ni todoke is a perfect story

What can I say now that I have finished season 3? The season 3 we didn't even know we would be getting? Well, I used to tell friends that I am happy with whatever comes, but now im greedy and I want it all. I am very Kazehaya about new KnT seasons, I guess.

Anyway, I have been browsing the tag a little to find gifs and reactions and such, and I already see discussions (not much tbh but still) about how this and that in the story should be different and while the anime did skip things (Rip to "you are mine now" Nakamura-san would have sounded SO GOOD!), people are satisfiedI think. I am, at least, very happy.

But to me, Kimi ni todoke is perfect. and not perfect in this way that i have small problems but overall I'm happy. No, I find it perfect perfect. Every storyline every character development from beginning to end is perfect. I guess people complaining about Ayane or whatever, even if its not here on tumblr that much, just show me that I can't interact with fans of this fandom either.

See, ever since I found KnT in 2009 when I was just 17 (about the age of the characters in the story funnily enough) I have always rewatched it when I was doing poor mentally. I must have seen it 12-15 times over the years, I've probably watched it twice after my fathers death alone. These characters mean the world to me, all of them. I love all of them.

But the girls! At different times of my life I could always connect to another one of them. So much so that while I like Chizu best and think she resembles me the most (in fact, I think she is the anime character that is closest to me in personality), I find a part of me in all of them.

When I found the story I had just lost my friendgroup (because an ex lied about me, it happens) and I had to go back to being alone, so I emphasised with Sawako (and her distancing herself from her friends always makes me cry, without fail, always).

When I moved out to study in 2011 and was mentally so low in 2012 and dated guys because I thought otherwise they wouldnt be my friends, I reread Ayanes okinawa arc over and over and over again.

And of course I have my friends call me by a different name than my given name because my given name is boring lol Kurumi and me.

And ah, Chizu, it would be too long to explain. Too personal. Nobody would care. I had a best friend once that I lost because I was scared of our friendship ending. I love Chizuru because we are the same, and I'm jealous of her because she is better than me. I don't have time or space to express my feelings. Level up to Nisi friendship level 6 to hear tragic backstory.

Also, I can't talk about this show without mentioning how much the voice actors mean to me. Long before I knew any seiyuu-names I knew Kazehayas-voice. In fact, I hated oikawa in hq SPECIFICALLY because he has kazehayas voice and isnt nice! You gotta be nice with that voice man! Their voices are tattooed onto my soul and when I hear them in other places I always think of KnT first.

I love them so very much that when I watched the Tokyo E ncounter episode with Nakamura Yuuchi (Ryu) and Sanpei Yuuko (Chizuru) when they are playing Halo and he is teasing her for having bad aim, I started crying - like sobbing. It was so weird I have you know but I just sat there and I couldn't get it together.

Anyway, Kimi ni todoke is perfect to me. Everything about it means the world to me. I have to physically restrain myself to not rewatch the season again.

Please netflix, finish it, please. You may cut some things. I will forgive you if you cut some things, but give me the end.

[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN

Aemond Targaryen Fanfic

WARNING: 18+ / 21+

Part 15

I got the question if I have a tag list. Wants someone part being of a tag list for the next updates ? Just comment and I will make a list. If there is a possibility to tag users. I am new here on tumblr so help me out. Thanks.

Cheese and Blood wanted to kill an innocent boy and Rose had no idea how to stop them.

These are not men who would bow to pleas. There is no reasoning with them.

"Please don't," Helaena pleaded, pressing her daughter even closer to her.

Cheese laughed while Blood played with his sword. She lowered her eyes to the broadsword at the huge man's hip. He was ready to kill, she could see that. They were going to kill an innocent child. Rose had to stop it.

She put the plate with cake on the table and slowly walked across the room until she stood in the middle, her body between Helaena, Alicent and the children and these men.

Blood and cheese were sent here to do harm. What had they said? A son for a son? Surely they meant Lucerys Velaryon. Had Daemon Targaryen sent them? Or his wife? What were they going to do with the boy? Kidnapping ? But they looked like men capable of far worse. Two strange, horrible men in a room with two women and three innocent children.

"You see, woman," Cheese said slowly, "you either choose one or we kill them both. And before we do, your girl won't be untouched." A smirk was on his lips as his gaze settled on the innocent girl hiding fearfully in her mother's skirt. Horror kicked Rose in the face. They were going to kill the children? But Lucerys was alive. No matter who had given the order, he couldn't think that the Greens would let him live if this cruel deed was carried out?

"Are you here for Lucerys Velaryon?" she interrupted Cheese, who was about to speak again. "He is alive and well. You can take him, we can send for him, and you-"

"Do I look stupid, you stupid cunt?" Rose winced at the insult. "There's no chance of getting away with him. That's not our job either. We're only here for one of the boys." Then he looked back at Helaena, who was sobbing at him. "So choose woman, or Blood will do it for you."

Then Cheese grinned again. "Blood wants to get his sword wet."

Behind her was another broken sound. Rose looked over her shoulder. Alicent's eyes glazed over and she threw herself in front of Helaena.

"You will not touch her," Alicent shouted warningly. She was shaking all over but she seemed strong.

Cheese laughed, a shrill sound. "Well, I see why you think we meant this sword, but no, I mean its steel, woman."

Then he yanked the boy out by the arm. Jaehaerys. He was crying and looked frightened, but his gaze was fixed on Maelor, who did not yet seem to understand.

"Which boy?" he suddenly shouted, and everyone present flinched. Blood laughed.

Blood approached the fire, Alicent and Helaena. Helaena's sobs hissed around the room and Rose felt her heart beat even faster until her chest was so tight she could barely breathe.

Suddenly, she was aware of a shadow on the wall. Her eyes flashed. It was barely visible; she probably wouldn't have noticed it if the fire hadn't caused it to flicker. There was someone. They weren't alone. She had to distract them until they could be helped.

"Princess Rhaenyra sent you?" she asked.

"Ay, the Queen who is supposed to be on the iron throne," Cheese said, giving Helaena a reproachful look. "Not nice, not nice at all." 

"Well your Queen will certainly appreciate it more if you save her son."

"Not our job, not our job," Blood groaned angrily, puffing in annoyance.

Cheese shrugged his shoulders. "We're here to collect a debt. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Don't worry, we just want the boy. We need a choice. Otherwise, we'll kill them both. Go."

Helaena was as white as a sheet.

She looked helpfully at her mother, who just stared at her, stunned. Then her gaze slid back to her sons. Jaehaerys stared at his mother with wide fearful eyes and it broke Rose's heart. Unlike his brother, he understood the situation. Rose's eyes turned to Maelor. He was still very young, he didn't understand what was happening at the moment, did he?

"Choose, choose," Blood demanded roaring and reaching for his sword.

Helaena shrieked and leapt forward. She fell to her knees and looked up, trembling. Her eyes were filled with horror.

"I choose...," she looked between her two children. She bit her lip, which was bloody by now. "I choose, Maelor." Helaena pointed trembling fingers at her youngest son. She gave a pained moan.

Cheese laughed. He leaned down to the boys, pulling him closer. Cheese whispered into the boy's ear, "You hear that, little boy? Your momma wants you dead."

Rose saw Cheese look to Blood and nodded. But instead of walking toward the little, younger boy, he lifted the arm of the elder prince.

She understood immediately. 

They would kill the boy Helaena had not chosen. Blood reached for his sword and before Rose knew what she was doing, she grabbed the plate of cake and hurled it into Blood's face, who backed away screaming. She got his eye. He did let go of his sword, but not the boy.

Cheese had his eyes on Blood, so Rose reached for the rake from the still-burning fireplace. She felt the hard grip and before Cheese could react, she hurled the staff into his face.

The man cried out and fire mixed with blood.

Fire and Blood.

Blood, meanwhile, had regained his composure and lunged at Rose, but before he got to her, she threw a load of glowing coals in his face.

Blood roared, deafening as flaming coals hit his face, sparks flying, and he tried to protect his face. He stumbled back.

Rose didn't see Cheese coming. She only felt the pain and the impact on the ground. He felt Cheese's hand bury itself in her hair and he slapped her face again.

"You miserable cunt, I'm going to-," before he could continue speaking, Rose heard a pop and suddenly Cheese was pulled away from him. Her eyes darted sideways to Aemond and Daeron and hope spread through her heart.

Aemond had torn Cheese away from her and it was over before it even began. Aemond's sword bored into Cheese's chest, while Daeron's sword entered Blood's groin. They both had swords of Valyrian steel and they looked like a chef effortlessly cutting the flesh of dead animals. Aemond pulled the sword from Cheese's chest and slid it through his entire torso. Thick guts flowed outward and blood splatters so dark it looked black.

Cheese was dead in an instant. Blood, on the other hand, was more unruly. He struck at Daeron, but the young Targaryen prince had the situation under control and with a few movements, he had also killed the big man, who in his last seconds was reaching for young Jaehaerys, who was already in his mother's arms. Alicent held Maelor and covered his face.

"Rose," rasped Aemond, helping her up. His silver hair, fanned open over his shoulder, was dyed blood red. He looked ready for bed. Aemond hadn't even bothered to put his sapphire in or wear his eye patch. It was the first time she had seen him without an eyepatch. She couldn't take her eyes off him and Aemond seemed to understand. He quickly looked to the side so Rose could only see his healthy side.

Daeron ran to his mother. He was drenched in blood.

So was Aemond and Rose realized that she had not been spared the blood either.

"Seal off the fortress," Aemond ordered angrily. "Secure every corridor. I want no one else to come in and no one else to leave this castle. Close the gates to King's Landing. Search every tavern, every whorehouse. If another attempt is made, I want to know before it happens!" Aemond's voice echoed over the uneasy silence of the city guard officers who had gathered behind them. Where were you, Rose wanted to shout. How could it happen that Blood and Cheese could become such a danger? Who had let them in?

"Yes, my prince," rang out the ranks, and Aemond pointed to the gates and sent them away without another word. Then he went to Helaena, who screamed and held him away. She clutched her oldest son, who looked pityingly at his mother. He seems so grown up, Rose thought.

"Mommy?," Maelor said suddenly. His voice sounded confused and all eyes turned to the little boy. Helaena looked at him with wide eyes and let out an agonized sound as the boy tried to come toward her. "Take him away, take him away," Helaena screamed, burying her hands in her face. She huddled against the wall. The sight broke Rose's heart into a thousand pieces. She understood immediately. Helaena had decided against her youngest son, she had condemned him to death and now she would always look into his face, knowing full well that she was willing to sacrifice him. But she had had no other choice, or not only would both boys have died, but the men would have taken advantage of her and her daughter. Helaena did not deserve this. She was the purest person Rose had ever met.

"Helaena, my child," Alicent said, pained, and tried to step toward her, but Helaena only shook her head. "Go away, go away."

Alicent looked broken. She took the three children and hugged them to her. "Ser Erwin," she called, and it wasn't a moment before a man stepped forward. "Take the children and take them to their nanny. Do not leave the room. You stay there and protect them with your lives," she ordered. Ser Erwin bowed and left the room with the children. Alicent slowly approached her daughter, but with a deliberate distance, and she spoke softly and gently to her child.

"My prince, we have gathered in the chambers of the small council," Ser Criston said.  "The Hand informs the King at this moment."

"I want you to stay with my mother and sister," Aemond barked. He freed his sword from the blood of his victim on his body and slid it back into its scabbard. "My brother and I will attend the gathering. Ser Waters and Ser Mayford will also remain here."

"Ser Arrak will secure your room," Ser Criston said. Then he looked suddenly at Rose, eyeing her suspiciously as if she were the enemy. "What of her, my prince?" All eyes turned to Rose. Their looks were dismissive, as if she were the enemy.

"She stays here, too," Alicent commanded quietly. "She has protected us. She belongs with us." Their eyes met and she saw warmth and gratitude in the Queen's eyes. Her coolness and distance were gone. Aemond stepped closer to Rose and slipped two fingers under her chin to survey her face. Their eyes met again and Rose had to force herself not to stare at his missing eye.

"Bring a maester here. The maid is to be examined scrupulously as well. Any injury is to be treated," Aemond said before letting go of Rose and moving away with one last look at his mother. His steps were quick and pounding. It made him long for revenge.

Rose looked after him before her gaze turned to Helaena, who stared blankly into space.

The chambers of the small council were secured by the King's Guard. Aemond stomped into the room. Otto Hightower looked at him in dismay, with his brother sitting beside him, more asleep than awake, looking at Aemond through glazed eyes. Before he knew what he was doing himself, Aemond jumped toward his brother and pushed him back against the table, his hands on his shirt collar.

"Where were you, you miserable-," he roared and to his surprise Aegon didn't even try to fight back. The smell of alcohol rose to his nostrils and Aemond grimaced in disgust.

Aegon was trembling. His eyes were red. He had been crying. Instead of protecting his family like a man and a loving father, he had cried like a little girl. And this was the king of this realm. Aemond was ashamed that instead of Rhaenyra, they had put his brother Aegon on the throne. Even this cunt could have led the kingdom better.

Filled with disgust, he let go of his brother, who lay like that for a moment before he stood up. None of the guards had dared to come between the two brothers. Even though Aegon was their king. Perhaps Aemond should reexamine their loyalty. First and foremost, they were under his command, not Aemond's. Even if he didn't like it.

"How did they get in?" barked Otto harshly. His eyes blazed. "How did they slip into the queen's chambers without being seen?"

It's times like these that remind Aemond how great his grandfather was. He was usually a much more outspoken and calm man, so his tone was something new to him. Full of anger and unruly. He reacted the way Aegon should have reacted. His family had been threatened. His son.

"There are secret tunnels in Red Mountain that most have long forgotten. There's one in the nursery."

"So someone allowed them in? Who else was there?"

"A maid, Lord Hand," Ser Criston said suddenly from behind him, and Aemond's eye focused coldly on his teacher. Why was he here? He had ordered him to be with his mother.

"A maid?"

"The maid that Prince Daeron brought, Lord Hand."

"So the maid let her in?" He said the word maid, but he pronounced it like the word whore.

"The maid," Daeron interjected, looking gravely at Ser Criston. "Was fighting for my family. She was hurt."

"Possibly just an act to avoid looking suspicious," Lannister suggested, and Aemond had to control himself not to wring the man's neck.

It was an insane notion that Rose had let the men in, only to join them and fight them. His mother had made it clear that Rose had protected them. And Aemond's himself, even without his mother's confirmation, believed in her innocence. She was faithful to them. The doubts he had at first had been justified, trusting strangers was foolish and dangerous, but Rose had proven her loyalty. His affection for her was out of proportion, yet it infuriated him that Lannister dared even mention these options. He would brook no more words of shame about her.

"She didn't do it," Aemond defended her, his voice leaving no room for doubt or argument.

Lannister looked to Aegon, but Aegon was not here. He was elsewhere, in his own mind.

"Your Grace?" Lannister repeated. Aegon just stared at the table. Then the lord looked at Aemond. "How do we proceed now?"

"They declare war on us," Aemond said. He took one quick breath, trying to find the right words. He pressed his hand on the table and those present. He skipped over his weak brother. "We must not, no, we cannot let this crime go unanswered. They are laughing at us. We have been far too lenient with them. They have forgotten that we have powerful dragons at our side, and I will remind them of that."

Lord Strong nodded, a light of appreciation in his eyes. "Yes, Your Grace." It meant nothing to Aemond what this worm thought of him.

"I will spend the early hours of the morning sending ravens to summon our bannermen to war," Otto said, his eyes wide. He had wanted to prevent war, but now his family had been attacked. Even the last among them now wanted war. "I will in the same breath order the execution of Lucerys Velaryon."

Otto thought the same thing Aemond did. Good. He had no time or inclination for discussion.

"Will you execute him with Vhagar, my prince," asked Larys Strong. "As a symbol of the eye you lost because of your rightful ascent of Vhagar?"

It was a soothing idea. "No," he said nonetheless. "My nephew is not a true Targaryen. He does not deserve to die at the fire of a dragon. Let him hang. He is a traitor and shall die like a traitor."

"Good," said Otto. "Get everything ready!," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, Lord Hand," Larys Strong interjected. "I am also in favor of execution, but only the king can give that order."

All eyes turned to Aegon, but Aemond felt the weight of Aegon's gaze on him. Aegon had once said that he lacked the strength to do what needed to be done. Aemond had no such limitations. His brother was weak. Completely out of place, where Aemond should be sitting. But there he sat, huddled like a soft weakling. And he himself had helped to put him there.

"You must give the order, my king," Otto urged promptly, and all eyes turned to Aegon, who for some reason still seemed to be considering.

Aemond pressed his fingertips on the table.

"Aegon, look at me," he commanded, and his brother obeyed. Red-eyed and pale-faced, he looked up at him. Aemond had to suppress the urge to grab him and shake him. "There is no other way. They attacked your sons, your little girl and your wife. You almost lost everything. We almost lost everything."

Aemond hoped his brother would finally man up.

"Give the order for execution. Only you can do that."

"You want me to kill my nephew?"

"You are to kill a fucking traitor. If Rose had not come, your children would be dead now. And your wife," Aemond hissed. "We would have lost mother, too."

Why didn't this idiot understand the seriousness of the situation? If he had to, Aemond would execute his nephew even without Aegon's order. Lucerys had made his decision and so had his half-sister, the whore.

"How did you know, Aemond?" asked Aegon quietly, "that they had been attacked. Why were you there and not me?" A wail escaped his throat.

"You are king now, Aegon," Aemond began without answering his question. "Learn to be responsible."

Aegon said no more, but his eyes spoke volumes. He did not want to be a king. Unlike Aemond, he never wanted to be. They had put the wrong prince on the throne. He would ruin this country if Aemond would not stand by him. Even though he despised Aegon's ways, he loved his brother. He was his family and he would protect him. And if it meant protecting him from himself.

Aegon swallowed. His gaze remained fixed on Aemond.

"I, Aegon II, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, do hereby order the execution of Lucerys Velaryon. I condemn him as a traitor to the realm and thus a traitor to the crown. His execution is to be carried out tomorrow, shortly after sunrise."

The words were spoken. Aemond looked into satisfied faces. He expected to feel that satisfaction as well, but it did not come. Instead, he felt an emptiness within him that he did not know how to classify. Shouldn't he be happy and content? He would finally get his revenge. Maybe he should cut out one of Lucerys eyes and present it to his mother to make his revenge perfect.

Rose was sitting on Aemond's bed when he entered his chambers. He had ordered that she be taken to his room after the examination. She had washed and waited patiently for him. Aemond still had blood on him, though only his face was affected. He had changed his clothes.

When he came in, he didn't notice her at first. He was in thought and when she stirred on the bed, he flinched and reached for his sword. Aemond looked at her menacingly before he recognized her and his tense posture relaxed.

"Excuse me," Rose apologized, but before she could speak further, Aemond came up to her, grabbed her face, and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her so hard that his teeth bounced against hers. It was a very dominant kiss and Rose submitted to him. But the kiss didn't last long and Aemond released the kiss to press his forehead against hers.

"You saved my family," he said softly. She heard the pain in his voice. "I will never forget that. I am forever in your debt."

Rose shook her head. "There is no debt. It was my duty, and even if it had not been my duty, I would have done it. That act was unsurpassed in cruelty."

Aemond nodded and straightened up. He looked her in the eye. "We will have Lucerys executed tomorrow." He spoke these words carefully.

A pang of pain ran through Rose. She had expected this. His execution had already been talked about, planned, and now it was a bitter reality. But his mother alone bore the blame. Lucerys Velaryon had to die because his mother cared more about warming a throne than hearing her son breathe. Rose did not know Rhaenyra, but she knew enough to despise this woman. What a pitiful fate to be a child of hers. They called her Realm's Delight. If people knew who she really was, they would title her differently.

Rose nodded dejectedly. She accepted Lucerys' fate. If Lucerys could do it, then she had to be able to do it. It was his life.

"How is the Queen? The children and your revered mother?"

Aemond didn't often show emotion, but at that moment he was like an open book to Rose. Pain was in his face and anger.

"The children are asleep. My niece cried herself to sleep and Jaehaerys didn't let go of Maelor's hand for a second."

"Do you think the young prince understood what happened?"

"I hope not."

"And the queen?"

"My sister," Aemond swallowed hard. "has a difficult mind and she is wracked with pain and guilt. My mother is with her at this moment."

"It's not her fault. It was either or, or they would have killed everyone."

"I know. I don't blame her."

Rose wondered what she would have done. Would she have risked the lives of herself and her children if faced with such a question. Would she also have sacrificed the life of her youngest child to save everyone else? She did not know. Helaena would now have to live with it forever, and the worst part was that every day she would have to look into the eyes of the child she had chosen to die.

"When is the execution?"

"Tomorrow, just after sunrise," Aemond explained. "Usually everyone is ordered to attend the execution." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingertips gently slid across her cheek. "But you can stay here. You don't have to watch this."

Rose reached for Aemond's hand and clasped it with both hands. She opened his fingers and gently stroked its rough inner surface. Years of training had made the hand rough. "Thank you, Aemond," she said, looking up. She would actually prefer it if she could stay here. But then she thought about Lucerys dying alone, surrounded by enemies, and that she couldn't do that to him. He deserved to have a friend with him in the last moments of his life. She would not abandon him. "But I'll be there."

Aemond didn't comment on her decision. He just nodded and regarded her for a moment before pushing her back and climbing over her. She lay on her back and looked up at him. He was wearing his eye patch again. His long hair fell over his shoulders and lay over them like a veil.

"I need you," he said, and Rose nodded. She straightened slightly and kissed him gently. Though everything about him was rough, Aemond's lips were soft and gentle.

She broke away from him again and undid the strings of her dress. "Then take what you need."

In the moonlit night, it was easiest for Rose to pretend she was fine. She pushed Lucerys out of her mind, letting go of thoughts of him and turning all her focus to Aemond. Just as he needed her, she needed him.

Aemond helped her take off the dress and in a few seconds he was also naked. He was already hard, just like she was already wet.

"You're trembling," Aemond whispered against her neck. "Out of fear or desire?"

Aemond dragged a tongue across Rose's collarbone. Rose moaned. Aemond looked down at her.

"You want this, don't you?"

Rose looked at him, confused. "I'm not forcing you, am I?" Where did he get that idea? "I'm far too selfish with you. It was never my intention to dishonor you, and yet I can't stop wanting to feel your body.

His words brought a smile to her lips.

"I want you," she whispered, stroking his head. She spread her legs and enclosed Aemond with them, pressing his body against hers. A grin appeared on Aemond's face. 

"You want me?" She nodded, returning his grin.

"What do you want from me?"

Rose groaned as she suddenly felt Aemond's finger inside her. She leaned toward the finger, trying to take it further inside her.

"All of it," she admitted, moaning louder as he added a second finger.

"You sure are greedy," Aemond commented. "Are you mine?" he asked, and as he pushed a third finger inside her, Rose lost control. She pressed herself down on the bed, her hips lifting her, and she felt the first tear escape from the corner of her eye. She didn't think the feeling from their first night together could get any more intense. Her arousal was driving her crazy. She wanted to feel him deeper inside her. She wanted more of him. Much more. Her thighs twitched and she tried to press him deeper against her, but Aemond's body was so wide she couldn't do it.

"To think that just days ago you were here untouched," Aemond said in a cool voice as he pumped his fingers inside her. "That I am the first and only one to ever touch you here and now you are helpless against me. I can do whatever I want with you."

Rose moaned. The idea and his fingers were driving her crazy. Her back arched while Aemond fucked her with one hand and kneaded her brush with the other.

"Tell me, my rose," Aemond demanded. "What do you want?"

"I-" Aemond's thrusts became firmer. This man was a beast in bed.

"What did you say? I don't understand you."

"Fuck me," Rose demanded, her words bringing a blush of shame to her face. She was ashamed of it, but it was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to feel him inside her. Not just his fingers. Just everything.

"How greedy," Aemond mocked. "But your wish is my command."

He kissed her as his fingers slid out of her. She gave an indignant gasp, but then she saw him remove his last clothes and anticipation arose in her. She continued to spread her legs, if that was still possible. Aemond regarded her for a moment.

"By the gods, if you could see yourself now," he breathed before leaning down and kissing her thighs. Then he slid further up and placed his lips on hers as he pushed his cock into her, sinking it in with one thrust. Rose cried out in pleasure. He widened her, hot and hard and pressed against her walls, rubbing against them and Rose no longer knew where up and down was. She moaned into his mouth then Aemond grabbed her waist and lifted her up so that she was lying on the bed with just her head and shoulders. Rose was irritated by the position, but before she could say anything, Aemond pulled back and thrust into her without restraint.

He buried himself so deep inside her that she felt like he was completely inside her. He fucked her the way he fought. Hard and precise. It felt like he was pounding into her.

"Faster," Rose screamed between her moans. Her whole lower body was on fire. But instead of complying with her demand, Aemond pulled his cock out, depriving Rose of the breathtaking sensation. She made an outraged sound, but then Aemond grabbed her, spinning her around so that she was sitting on top of him while he was under her.

"I'm exhausted," Aemond said. "You do the work."

Rose looked at him in surprise. She sat up in irritation and looked down at him.

"I don't know how," she confessed, and Aemond smiled. He took his cock and guided it to her burning spot and lifted her slightly to squeeze on it. They both moaned out at the same time.

Then he pushed her back up and Rose understood. Her body made itself independent and kept dropping down on him at her own pace, driving Aemond crazy. He buried his fingers in her hips and met her thrusts with his hips. Rose felt the energy leave her.

"Aemond, I can't take any more-" she said shakily, and Aemond didn't wait long. He turned them both over a second time and this time she landed on her knees. Her bottom stretched out toward Aemond and when he suddenly slapped his hand on her bare skin, Rose drew in a startled breath and looked over her shoulder.

"If you only knew what a sight you make me, Rose," Aemond said, and without warning he pressed his cock into her again. A sweet pain accompanied it and Rose moaned loudly. She never wanted it to stop. She liked the position and pressed herself against his hip. Aemond hammered his cock into her dripping opening while he wrapped his other hand around her, sandwiching it between the crevices of her cunt. He rubbed against something and Rose felt something brewing inside her.

"Oh, Aemond, I-I-" Rose stammered over her own lust as the fire in the pit of her belly continued to spread.

Aemond lost his rhythm and instead sought more. His thrusts became uncoordinated and wilder. He too was on fire and the knowledge that he was enjoying it excited Rose more.

Rose moaned as she came and Aemond followed her shortly after. He gave her a few more lazy thrusts before pushing her down on the bed and pressing his body down on her. She felt him soften inside her. Aemond rolled off of her and fell into the sheets next to him. Rose lay there watching as Aemond lay next to her, eyes closed, enjoying the moment. Aemond was making her a whore and she was enjoying every moment of it.

A wild and raging knock at his door woke Aemond from his sleep. He opened his eye and looked at Rose, who had also been awakened. Irritated, Aemond stood up and grabbed his sword. He stood beside the door and demanded the name of the troublemaker.

"Ser Criston Cole, my prince," came the reply promptly, and Aemond wrenched open the door.

"Why do you disturb me? Has there been another attack?"

Unfortunately, the bed was right in the door's field of vision, and Ser Criston's gaze opened in surprise as he turned to Rose, who was pressing the sheets against her naked body. His gaze was condemning. He made Aemond angry.

"Ser Criston, speak or I-"

"Lucerys Velaryon is gone."

For a moment, everything in his head boomed. Aemond even forgot to breathe. He felt the blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beating painfully against his chest. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"What did you say?"

"The guards who came to take the prince from his chambers found the room deserted. But there were no traces of a struggle to be found, or doors and windows destroyed. Someone had released the prince."

Aemond felt the anger explode inside him. His blood began to boil in his body and he had to pull himself together not to thrust his sword into Ser Criston's chest. How could this have happened? Who had dared to let him go free?

Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

He would kill them all. He would have them tortured for days, one by one, until he found the culprit.

"Are all the entrances and exits still guarded?"

"Yes, my prince. As you commanded."

"Put the city under lock and key. No one is to leave it. Any child that looks like Lucerys Velaryon will be brought to us. The bastard will not escape his execution, and if I have to fly to Dragonstone myself to wet his bastard blood with my sword."

This could only be Rhaenyra's doing. That cunt had done it again.

Aemond vowed her death. Her execution would be a feast for the gods. But before her death, she would kill Daemon and every one of her children. In front in his sister and his uncle. And if it was the last thing he would do. He would wipe out her entire clan. Every bastard she had squeezed out of her. He would make sure that Rhaenyra's line would be completely wiped out.

Aemond would not let anyone who had Rhaenyra's blood in them live.

He would kill them all.

Every single one.

And again, a new chapter. What do you think?

What do you think? Who freed Lucerys?

[siliyis]

I am ready to make an enemy out of the communities here. I don't know if this is the most controversial take in tumblr (I doubt it is) but I don't care. Y'all can hate me.

Fandoms don't like female characters. Y'all really don't.

Let me tell you a little story before we jump in. I've made a comment, about a female character, that I don't give a fuck about, and said, if she was male, she would be aggressively shipped with this one male character. I've said it because she looked so hot as a guy (fanart) that I belive the ship would be popular. Mind you, I didn't watch the show. I just know she doesn't like the guy and always banter with him and that's a dynamic shippers eat it up only when it's M/M.

Someone came and said the popular M/M of that show would still be popular if one of the character is female therefore, I'm wrong.

Mind you, I didn't watch the show so I did a quick search on WHEN does the character dies (lmao) and that's all I needed to know to fucking say NO, IT WON'T. It won't be popular if it was a girl.

The ironic part? I'm aware that, statistically, M/M dominate in ships and in so many other areas. But that's not why I said it won't be popular. Rather because female character are NOT relevant in fandoms. They are not! There is no way, a female character, will play a big importance in ONE arc and dies in that same arc.... that would make a fandom sob, cry, hyperventilate the way it did to this fandom! It never WILL! The man dies too quickly. If it was a female, she will not be relevant. Female characters will never make any big impact the way male character do even if they are written the EXACT SAME WAY.

Hell, they can't even making it to the top 10 rankings of favorite character in their OWN series. You usually see 1 female then the rest of the 9 be male. And it's usually a character who is the main female with the rest of the cast. A side male character will always beat the side female character in these shows.

One of the things I've noticed with the way people treat female character is, if she have a crush/love interest and y'all would act like it's the biggest ICK about her character and she suddenly loses all support while simultaneously, thirsting, salivating, over the same character she likes and behave like animals.

I learned, by being in fandoms, that a female character should never show interests in males. That's the only way she can remain in y'all "good favor" otherwise, it's not going to work. Males can do bare minimum and we gonna dkride them so hard.

How many female characters, if they were male, would be MORE liked than they are now? How many male characters, if they were female, would be LESS liked than they are now?

Liking a female character is a fucking BATTLEFIELD while liking male character is the smoothest ride ever (except for Sanji but he doesn't count for obvious reasons).

Having a male character favorite is just easy if dumbasses aren't power scaling. I might find someone who hates my favorites once in a blue moon and all I can think about is, "THANK GOD someone hate him. I thought he doesn't have haters." I can move on from it because he gets an overwhelming love that it doesn't matter if someone dislike him.

The female characters, on the other hand, you need to get the gun ready to start shooting because you will defending her for days. The hate would show up on your FYP out of nowhere, there is a long discussion about why she suck, they are debates, there are people who don't think she is that great, people who undermine her importance to the plot, people talking about, "I don't care about her. Her story arc is not bad, she is just not it. (aka not a male) I just don't feel her, blah blah. I won't be saying this if she was male, blah, blah, blah."

So in conclusion, y'all hate females.

Or to be accurate, they are not relevant for y'all. Fandoms don't care about them.

Let's just acknowledge that and move on with our lives because I don't want to hear shit from someone who likes over 100 male characters but will struggle to pick 10 females they really like. If the number of females don't even make 20% of the amount of males you have liked, don't fake outrage under my post talking about how it's not true. I don't care if y'all don't like them. Just don't lie.

I know you gonna say, there is more male characters than female which is true but if we consider the overall medium, you have OPTIONS. I'm literally saying to not limit it. If you can't name 50 female characters across an ENTIRE medium but can for males? Don't bother arguing with me.

Anyway, it's a real shame to see that female characters aren't written that much in archiveofourown. There are so many female characters that could have made it to the rankings of the 2023... but like I said, female characters aren't relevant so I shouldn't be surprised they struggling to make the list for that too.

Feel free to tag if you think it applies. It doesn't matter if they are from other mediums like Harry Potter, Star Wars or anything like that. If it fits, it fits. I'm going to tag a few random anime fandoms because chances are, it's not your fandom (maybe it is) but I'm still tagging because it's common here.

If I'm loud and wrong then I'm loud and wrong. People hated Jesus for telling the truth.

[rrxnjun]

okay (cracks knuckles) ik whipping out the laptop means serious business for people our age, so thank you bar🥺 and you answering everything made me emotional so lemme reciprocate......yes I like u, more now

Yes they both are your only smuts and not so explict at that and being non explicit is again wholesome for me and hence more delusion inducing. I love both the type of smuts though, explict because oof it's hot and detailed and it makes me distant enough to not get too attached but if it is emo or angsty then I am doomed. Smut makes me go like ew the characters did the bad and dirty stuff and are not so pure and angelic ewww (for me to not live under their skin XD and be sane). I like smut without plot for sure but verrrry short in length, just for giggles yk, and not like 10 chapters of pure fucking (idk how ppl do that😭), then I need plot because where is the buildup and story and feelings. Implicit because it makes me yearn when I am in the mood to not be sane and detach from reality. But I get your point, usually people feel that way i guess, i m weird and horny bxdjnf.

And oh you did NOT like Liebestraum, whyyyy >:( if i may ask (omg sweet(est) anon let me kiss your feet snjhdd) but thanks so much for actually putting it up here (online friends and meeting ur tumblr anon 3 times irl?????? U live in a movie??? R u not real??? I feel it's possible). And oh OH OH, this is why OMG i get it now!!! because ur own feelings are resembled in Jisung's monologue and summer feels like THAT for you, it felt more real to me. As I said I was born in summer and rain, so it's like a part of me, an essence of mine, to feel and connect so much with the summery blues, so that and ur own resemblance made it suureal and easy for me to connect so deeply (i am SLIGHTLY dramatic) Because yk how usually with y/n fics, I resonate or try to at least with the y/n's feelings or imagine from a 3rd pov but this made me feel what Jisung was feeling throughout as my own feelings 😭🥹🥹, I felt like I was left behind without that last meeting instead of Jisung GODJDJSJSJSJSJ, please I will cry, I even told my roommate about this fic and Liebestraum and everything so randomly (she doesn't even follow kpop now and has only read bts fanfics in the past ), please let me kiss u :3 (My fav season is actually the transition from winters ending to spring to summers (spring is kinda short where I live and fall is even shorter otherwise it would have been my favorite too) so yes basically summers approaching because they are not as hot and I don't have to shiver all the time and I see the sun but to an extent that is pleasant) I feel like where I live it gets super duper hot in summers so ppl lean towards winters more.

And no by ur carrd being cute I didn't mean JUST the template but what you wrote, that was cute, u r cute. And IKR, ik so many 03 liners irl because of class but online? They do not exist. One year older? Yess, one year younger? Tons but same age? NAH . And oohh cool, I just completed my bachelors and now I feel lost, gonna go for Masters Clinical prolly but yes idk what I will do after that either and I dread research and therapy even so yeah maybe diagnostics lol. (I am ahead of u, but probably gonna take a break this year, let's get at the same level then :D). You make me wanna re-test my mbti it's been a while ;)

And I am probably gonna read Potential or the self sabotage one, Chenle yes, I rarely find good stuff about him. Wish me luck, I saw people sobbing in your asks regarding Potential 😭. (Thanks for not getting mad but it's understandable even if u do)

I do not listen to Dominic but I will check that song out, for you, to try n feel what you said <3

Let's be friends, can i try sliding into your dms time to time🤸🏻‍♀️

hihihi happy to hear u like me more now 🫶🏻 i like you too 🤭🤭

AHAHA okay i get you but also i definitely read smuts that made me delusional before... this one smut i read i cannot stop thinking about it IT WAS PWP TOO 😭😭😭 sigh. Yeah 10 chapters of pure fucking is not really my cup of tea either. Its like when the smut count in a fic goes past 2 im like well this is too much isnt it🤨 (and then i realize real ppl fuck and im just being a virgin.)

I will tell my friend u wanna kiss her feet /j HAHAHA yeah we met last october for the first time!! She lives in a country next to mine so periodically we take turns and take a train to each others capital 🥰 it definitely feels like a dream like wow life didnt end at 17 i am 21 now and meeting online friends and travelling and wow. And yeah kinda!! Also i feel that i dislike most of my angst for some reason ??? And i dont really know why if im being honest TT its like maybe i feel a bit pretentious ?? I have no idea its a whole thing 😭😭 but once again i feel very honored that you connected so deeply with a work of mine 🫶🏻 its still baffling to me haha. TELLING UR ROOMMATE IS ALSO ANOTHER LEVEL WHAT

omg i actually dislike spring but also like it at the same time ?? I was born in spring! but i dislike the unreliable weather but also theres something abt seeing the sun after months of winter that cures ur depression a little doesnt it😭😭 it gets crazy hot in summers here too!! Like next wednesday its supposed to be 36°C 😀😀😀😀 im gonna d*e. I would say i prefer winter to summer but i think u couldve guessed that from my previous reply HAHA

DJDJS me? Cute? 🤭🤭 no, YOU are. but you are SOOO right i see so many 04 liners online its crazy. Most of my mutuals on here are 04-05 liners it makes me feel OLDDD. Omg thats so cool 😯😯 i think clinical is too far from my abilities LMAOO but then again idk idk. When i was little i wanted to do psych because of clinical but then i got into uni and realized how difficult it is and how i am a gifted child burnout so :// and i feel like therapy isnt for me it would burn me out too much. I was thinking of art therapy perhaps ?? but the easiest way to get emploeyed would be school or educational psych here so we'll see maybe ill go for that ?? tell me what ur mbti is after!!

AAAA self sabotage i dont really like either (i seem to dislike a lot of my work LMAO) but potential is one of my most fav fics ive ever written 🤍 i didnt really think it was THAT angsty but i kind of treated it as my therapy session lmao so...,.,,. Yeah maybe thats why. hope u like it! I am very proud of it,, it was a spontaneous work of mine but im happy with how it turned out :,)

what kind of music do u listen to?? :oo i am a HUGE dominic fan no one underastands the sunburn album the way i do </33 hope u like it if u listen to it:)

LETS BE FRIENDS !! u can slide into my dms any time altho i am uhh not really as active on this blog lately ((since i made my other one this has been collecting dust. Shame on me 😭😭😭😭) but i will try to get back to u asap !! (Or we can talk on discord?)

[tangledbea]

you're so real for saying charithra chandran for rapunzel, she's been my number one fancast for her if there ever is a live-action movie (hopefully there won't be one! PLEASE disney come up with new ideas for the love of god!!) the moment i laid eyes on her while watching bridgerton.

something that really irks me is the number of people crying over rumours of rapunzel not being white... like people are going over to avantika's socials and harassing her over a literal fancast which is quite frankly very strange behaviour. their number one excuse for the anti desi rapunzel is: "well, desi girls aren't naturally blonde. we need a blonde to play rapunzel, otherwise it won't be realistic, duh!" but!

1st of all, rapunzel herself isn't even blonde. she's brunette!

2nd, rapunzel's hair has never ever been realistic. super long, glowing, magical hair is realistic to you people? really?

also seeing people say that rapunzel can't be desi because she's german... and then propose a different actress who isn't even german either to be rapunzel lol.

but idk. the undercover racists are once again coming out full force. it's like the halle bailey situation all over again

i hope this was a good take sob sorry for bringing bad vibes to the function

anywho, at the end of the day i will literally get on my knees and BEG disney to not make any more live actions movies. we don't need them!!!!!

I agree with literally everything you said, including fan-casting Charithra because of her performance in Bridgerton. XD I watched her there, and for the first time since the movie came out, I saw an actress I'd be happy with portraying Rapunzel. She's got the acting chops, she's got the look, her innocence is so sweet and her rage is so palpable. The only role I've ever seen Avantika in is Karen in Mean Girls, and although that's just one role, nothing about her performance said "Disney's Rapunzel" to me.

I really really hate that people think it's okay to harass actors for any reason, let alone because of a popular fancast. In that respect, social media is a blight. People should not have unfettered access to celebrities and the creatives behind their favorite shows. God, I wish people could be trusted, but this is why we can't have nice things.

Oddly, I've been seeing a lot of people complaining in the Tumblr tags about people's treatment of Avantika on Tiktok and Twitter, but I haven't really seen people complaining about it here on Tumblr. So basically, the people yelling in the tags are yelling at the wrong people*. Of course, this happens all the time around here; people complaining about what they saw on a different social media platform.

But, yeah. NO MORE LIVE ACTION REMAKES, PLEASE. I mean, we obviously can't stop them, because too many people who aren't that critical of it enjoy it, but it sure would be nice if they'd get the picture.

*Not to say that I think that no one here on Tumblr is racist or feels the same way as the TikTokers and Twits who are being overtly racist, just that I'm not seeing it with my own eyes, because I'm not on those platforms.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

figured i would drop another request before i go to bed 😘 Time for a Spare Prayer please bc i forget which fic that is and i am Curious x)

My beloved friend! Thanks for coming back ❤️ Time for a Spare Prayer is otherwise known on my tumblr as The Crows Witness Protection Program for Wayward Fathers 😂 and here’s a snippet with a less than great first impression.

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He hissed impatiently.

“I found your boy— your, um, Wylan.” He stumbled over the words. With a red stained hand, Colm gestured to his bloodied general vicinity, swallowing hard as he tried not to think too hard about it. The space where the lad had been bleeding all over him was cooling, miserably tacky and smelling like metal. Blood had caked and dried under his nails, and he wasn’t certain he’d ever shake the smell of burning chemicals from inside his nose. “He said no hospitals, said to bring him here, I… Are you Kaz Brekker?”

That cracked the facade, and Colm knew he was on the right path.

“And what d’you want with Kaz Brekker?” The suli girl shifted in his periphery. She was little more than a blade of shadow, tiny and sharp in the fading daylight. Colm blinked at her, and found her a more sympathetic face. Still cold, still just as stony as her companion, but she seemed more… soft. There was genuine curiosity there in her brown eyes. He managed a half a smile for her, hoping to… he wasn’t sure. Reassure, maybe?

Poor Wylan let out a cry from inside the room on the other side of the cane. It was all he could do to try to reassure someone right then.

“When I was trapped in the alley with him, Wylan said you might be able to help me—“

The hand not holding a bruising grip on that damned cane held up a single gloved finger. Shush, it said, perfunctory and completely without emotion. It skipped across Colm’s last nerve like a flat rock across a pond, and he just barely bit his tongue against the barb in his throat.

The lilt of a Ravkan accent curled out from the room, saying something desperate that Colm couldn’t make out— not over the throb of his pulse in his ears, and the steady cries and whimpers from the wounded boy beyond the door. Kaz wasn’t looking at him. He gave Nina a single nod.

He didn’t even have to look at the suli woman to know she was there at his shoulder. “Second harbour. Hurry.”

She was down the stairs and out the door, fast and silent.

Mr. Brekker still didn’t look at him as he dug that stupid gloved hand into his jacket pocket. There, he had produced a thick, tidy stack of kruge notes. It wasn’t until those eyes trained back on him that Colm realised the money was intended for him.

“Is this the help you’re looking for?” Kaz drawled.

Colm blinked at the money, then that stony face. If it weren’t for the line of tension from his temple to his square cut jaw, he would’ve almost thought that the lad— and oh, he was just a young lad, Colm refused to see the attitude as anything else— looked bored. It was a dismissal more than anything else.

Wylan let out a ragged-sounding sob, and Colm’s heart squeezed.

He took a full step back from the extended offer. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay. See that Wylan’s out of the woods before I go.”

It was Brekker’s turn to blink placidly, mildly surprised. He tucked the kruge away as if he thought Colm was playing some sort of trick. He tried to play it off with a shrug.

“Wait downstairs.”

Thanks for playing! ❤️❤️ I’m hoping to have this chapter up soon, hope you enjoyed!

[pearl-blue-musings]

(I've decided to start counting how many times I've submitted this, FUCK TUMBLR. This is the 14th time. Happy birthday, bby 😭)

"Wake up, my love." Shinso's voice pulled you out of your sleep, warmth enveloping you as he pulled you close.

"Mm, nooo. You're comfyyy." You whined, curling into him.

"As much as I'd love to stay like this, I have a surprise for you." A chuckle escaped him, his eyes shining with love as he looked at you.

"Whyyy?"

"Because it's your birthday, silly." Running his fingers through your hair, he managed to pull you out of your sleepy haze. With a big stretch, you gazed up at him. You couldn't help but admire how lovely he looked, even with his bed head and tired eyes.

"Whats the surprise?" As you traced your finger over his chest, you saw a slight sparkle. Furrowing your brows, you pulled your hand back.

"Oh my go- Really?" A beautiful diamond set in a gold band was now placed on your finger.

"I wanted to do a crazy date night to do this, but I couldn't wait anymore. Plus, I knew you'd say yes."

"You don't know that!" You teased.

"Yeah? Those pretty noises you made for me last night would say otherwise." His lips were pressed again hickeys he left across your neck.

With a soft growl, he bit down, making you squeal.

"Let's celebrate, shall we?"

-🌸 (I'll blow a fucking gasket if this doesn't go through. Tumblr, please. Let my fav be happy.)

BABE STOP IM

also fuck tumblr cause 14??????? Too many 😩😩

But honestly I really fucking needed this I’m sobbing at this rn I’m gonna read this over and over and over and over like the surprise ring???????? I’m CRYING HES SO PERFECT I’m saving this forever

[aadagio]

Speak Now TV First Impressions

I do this thing with every new Taylor release where I go through the album, track by track, listening to one song at a time via the YouTube lyric videos and then pausing for a few minutes to jot down my initial thoughts and first impressions. I started doing it with Lover back in 2019, and I've done it with every album since.

I usually just post these as a thread on Twitter, but since I'm back being active on Tumblr again, I thought I'd also share here. I did listen to Speak Now TV out of order, with the Vault tracks first, so I'm just going to list everything in the exact order I played it below:

Electric Touch: I got chills all over my arms. All I kept thinking was, "This would have been KILLER to listen to in high school!" I did feel that Patrick's voice felt subdued by the production here, which wasn't my favorite, but the way he and Taylor sing "to-o-ou-ouch" together and their alternating vocals on the bridge are fantastic. Also excited to have a new Taylor Time! I want to see this one performed live SO badly.

When Emma Falls In Love: Still not 100% sure how I feel about this one yet. Probably the least exciting one from the Vault, for me personally. I absolutely love the line “like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town” though.

I Can See You: So sultry and sexy. I loved it immediately. I got strong 60s spy movie vibes. I also really want to know who this is about? I know what it makes me think of (April/May 2013), but what about Taylor??

Castles Crumbling: Oh my GOD. Possibly one of my favorite TS collabs of all time??? The way Hayley and Taylor’s voices harmonize with one another is hypnotic. This felt so ghostly and morbid, like a sister to Haunted and even a forefather to Nothing New? Biggest stand out to me so far.

Foolish One: Everything about this, down to the title, feels like a direct attack. There was absolutely a point in my life (in 2010, no less) when I would have played this CONSTANTLY. Maybe I should still do that now 🙃

Timeless: I started sobbing as soon as the first chorus hit. I recognized Marjorie in the lyric video thumbnail and knew that this one would probably make me emotional, but I wasn't expecting just how quickly it would reduce me to tears. My boyfriend overheard me crying and came out to the living room to hug me. Completely devastated me, but I love it. An even bigger stand out than CC!

I had to take a break to collect myself, and iced some cookies I made to celebrate the album release. My biggest thought with the Vault tracks was just, "Damn, I wish these had been out in the world back in 2010 because I really could have used them in high school." At least they’re here now though.

Superman: Listened while icing cookies because I knew that it would be the last song in my listen-through otherwise, and I didn't want to end the session on a sour note, because I do NOT like Taylor's intended subject on this song, or the person I used to personally associate it with when I was younger. It’s a good song! Just not one I gravitate toward anymore.

Mine: I immediately noticed the lack of earnestness, youth and twang in her voice on this recording. I don’t know why, but it was hard to get past. I just know this song SO well after all these years, and this version felt almost jarringly different.

Sparks Fly: This was better. Still not the same as the original, but a better mix of old and new, in my opinion. Also loved the inclusion of the Speak Now World Tour footage in the lyric video.

Back To December: Another one where I just know it so well that I can notice every single difference. Some of the vocal inflections were not my fave, but overall it’s another good mix of old and new. (Also I hope Taylor Lautner is having an incredible day, as he deserves.)

Speak Now: Right out of the gate, I hated her vocals on this one, which crushed me. This song was one I had been looking forward to hearing the most. As I kept listening, I was trying to reserve my judgement, but by the end I had to accept that I just do not like this version. The lack of youthful exuberance in her voice was extremely noticeable, and I felt that was to the detriment of the song. I'm so upset to say I don't like this one.

Dear John: Who else up wanting back their girlhood? Vocally, this was beautiful. This one transcends time, and actually hurts more to hear sung at 32. You can feel how her voice has changed from utter sadness to bitter anger. I loved how she completely capitalized, "OVER YOUR SAD EMPTY TOWN" in the lyric video.

Mean: THANK GOD THE TWANG IS BACK!!!!! If ever there was a song we needed it on, it was this one!! (Please can we keep this energy for Debut TV????? 🙏🏼)

The Story of Us: The whole time I was just thinking, "Okay!!!! Yes!!!!!" Vocally, this is exactly what I was hoping for. Killed it.

Never Grow Up: Had me sobbing again. I remember listening to this for the first time at 17 and thinking, “Is this going to be life one day?” and now I’m 30 and my friends have kids and I’m in my grown up apartment and it IS all so much colder than I thought it would be. This is another one that hurts more to hear sung at 32 than at 19. I feel like I can remember my whole life when I listen to it, which just makes the tears come harder. I had to stop and grab tissues from my room and hug my boyfriend for a bit before coming back to finish the album.

Enchanted: PERFECTION. So good. I adored the lyric video transition from her Speak Now World Tour performance of the song into her singing it at The Eras Tour.

Better Than Revenge: NO. Nope. I could write a dissertation at this point about why I think the lyric change was a massive, massive mistake, but y’all already know. This was NOT the move at all and it will never hit as well as the original. I'm so disappointed.

Innocent: So good. Again, another one that hits different with age, especially hearing her sing, “Thirty-two and still growing up now.” I was remembering watching her perform it live at the VMAs for the first time as I was listening. Such a special moment that KW then came out and absolutely ruined with Runaway. I still firmly believe that this song is way, way too good for the person it’s about.

Haunted: Right off the bat all I could think was, "Uhhhhh what the FUCK happened to the production here????" That new echo-y layering effect is NOT IT and ruined the song for me.

Last Kiss: Immediately noticed different, sharper instrumentation with the harp, and I did not like it. Vocally it just didn't hit the same either. Instead of deeply sad, it just feels sort of lifeless. I probably put too much stock into this one because it means so much to me, but even still. I fully gave up on expecting the shaky breath to get a repeat feature because I just don’t think you can recreate something like that, but damn. This version just does not feel right to me and I’m sad about it.

Long Live: Tears AGAIN, this song always always gets me. This version is perfection, another timeless one. I think they made the right move by having the lyric video be comprised completely of footage of Taylor performing it on the Speak Now World Tour.

Ours: This was my absolute favorite song on the album back in the day. I always loved how you could hear the smile in her voice as she sang, and unfortunately I didn’t really feel that at all on this version. At least we still had the giggle toward the end! Overall I think it’s still solid, just not the same, and that was disappointing.

My final thoughts after just one listen-through feel so up and down, which I was not expecting at all! I feel so conflicted and disappointed.

With Fearless TV, it took me a little bit to come around fully to the vocal changes. You just can't recapture that same youthful earnestness that she was singing with as a teenager. But when I got the vinyl in the mail and put it on, I don't know, something just finally clicked for me, and now I love it.

With Red TV, I was fully on board from the jump, and I consider the TV to be the definitive version of the album. But with Speak Now, it's nowhere close. I feel like half the original songs I really loved the new versions of, and half were huge let downs. That makes me so sad to say.

I know it's only been one listen, and if there's anything I've learned from tracking my first impressions over the past 5 years, it's that my opinions will absolutely morph and change as time goes on and I listen more and more. I just never expected to feel disappointment like this.