#same thing happens with labeling people as Good

[angstywaifu]

Love Doesn't Suit You - Brennan Sorrengail

Just a little idea that came into my head the other day, and just had to get written down for you all. That and I missed writing for this man. If any one has any Brennan ideas please send them my way. Pre Fourth Wing and Iron Flame (no spoilers), mentions of blood/violence, maybe bring tissues...... Requests Open.

Masterlist

Never in his life had Brennan thought he’d be in this situation. Especially not with you. But here he was, stuck in this situationship with his childhood friend. Too scared to man up and tell you how he really felt. In stead you slept together, kissed and flirted. But the second it came to a label on it, you bailed. Every single time he had to watch you enjoy the company of another person. Gods, he did it too sometimes. But none of them were you.

”You’re going to get caught one day if you keep this up.”

I jump back, hand clutching my chest as Brennan steps out of the shadows. The moonlight reflecting off his reddish brown hair. He knew I liked to do these late night flights. Knew I used them to clear my head of whatever chaos was going on in it at the time.

”Only if I do something stupid.” I reply before walking past him.

I hear him sigh behind me before walking after me. “Well considering some of your choices you make, it might not be long.”

”What’s that suppose to mean?” I ask as I turn on the steps to look up at him.

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same argument we had every few weeks or months depending how it was going. Brennan wanted more but…. I couldn’t. The thought of being with someone more than just a casual thing terrified me.

”You’re in a situatioship with what, two or three people now?” He says without even looking at me. “What happens when one of them meets and figures it out? Or you get bored and come back to me?” His voice laced with anger.

”I was pretty open about it not being exclusive. I’ve always made it clear with you and them I wanted nothing more than sex.” I say through gritted teeth before turning my back to him and walking back down the stairs.

Brennan’s footsteps are quick to follow me, and I can tell by the sound he’s angry. I’ve hit a nerve. Good. It’s better that he hates me. I’ll only break his heart if I haven’t already.

”You and I know very well that they’ve fallen in love with you. Don’t act all innocent with me.” He tells me as he practically breathes down my neck.

I turn and push Brennan back, causing him to stumble into the step behind him.

”You mean falling in love like you did?” I snap, watching as he winces at my words. “I’ve always made it clear I wanted nothing more than something casual. Love doesn’t go well with our line of work. You know that.”

Brennan just shakes his head, scoffing at the comment. “Love just doesn’t go well with you.” He mutters quietly before pushing past me and walking away. “Maybe I was stupid for even thinking you would ever commit to something.”

I barely catch the last part. Knowing he didn’t intend for me to hear it. But I do. I stand frozen to the spot as Brennan’s footsteps disappear. His words echoing in my head. My heart feeling like it was just ripped to shreds and thrown on the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears start to roll down my face. If only he knew. If only he knew how much I actually cared. How much I wanted to put a label on us. But I can’t. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind before slowly following Brennan down the rest of the stairs to the quadrant to try and get some sleep before tomorrow.

I’ve fucked up. My mind not focused on the my challenge. My mind still focused on what happened last night. Brennan’s words still echoing in my head from the night before. And because of that I hadn’t been fully focused. And now I would pay for it.

I can feel the blood dripping from the wound as my challenger pulls their knife out of my stomach. My hands rushing to apply pressure to the wound. Blood instantly seeping through my fingers as I drop to my hands and knees in the pool of blood forming on the floor. This is it. This is how I die. Black dots start to fill my vision as I feel myself slipping away. Over the ringing in my ears I hear someone calling, no screaming my name. Their voice is pained, as if they’re losing someone they love.

I cough, blood splattering the ground beneath me. Shit.

The last thing I see before I black out is a familiar pair of amber eyes looking at me in panic as they scream my name, trying to apply pressure to the wound as they pull me into their arms.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Blossom. aka - Cherry, Part Four.

a night of conversations, kisses and long awaited confessions.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - cursing, kissing (but no real smut).

word count - 2.6k

authors note - the babies are back!! no smut in this one - it was getting too long. but don’t you worry… there’s gonna be so much smut in part five !! sorry for the cliffhanger. love u <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

The smoke from the bonfire is stinging your eyes, ash sticking to the strands of your hair. Orange embers burn rapidly, dry wood being occasionally thrown on top by drunk boys with red cups in their hands.

The music is way too loud for a forest party, but no one seems to care. Someone’s haphazardly strung lights between the trees, creating a surprisingly cosy ambience. The atmosphere is alive, charged with the electricity of being out later than curfew.

“M’lady!”

You laugh, accepting the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say as you curtsy sarcastically, making both of you laugh harder. “Hey, you didn’t bump into Steve on your way over here, did you? I haven’t seen him for like an hour.”

The curly haired boy kicks the toe of your sneaker with his.

“Saw him with that Clara girl, talking by the lake.”

You take a steadying breath, pretending it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“You should go and check if he needs rescuing,” Eddie jokes. “God knows she can talk for hours without coming up for air.”

You smile at him, pulling at one of his curls.

“Good idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” he winks, pushing you in the right direction.

You saunter down towards the water, spotting your best friend instantly. He’s stood with his arms across his chest, weight on one hip as he tries to listen to whatever Clara has to say. The minute he sees you, his posture is straightening, lips quirking up at the corners.

Clara turns around to see what Steve is looking at, her face falling when she recognises you.

“Hi. I don’t mean to interrupt! Just wanted to check if you needed another drink, Stevie.”

The boy grins, beckoning you closer with a nod of his head. When you’re near enough, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, all affectionate and tender.

Oh.

You don’t do that.

The two of you have kept your romance completely behind closed doors, up until now. It hasn’t got a name, never mind a label, and you don’t need people asking questions when you don’t even know the answers yourself.

You could blame it on the alcohol, but you know Steve’s on his first drink. With your head spinning, you look up at him as if he is the sun and all things warm. He looks down at you the exact same way.

“I’m gonna go see where my friends are,” Clara says a little too loudly, strutting away with as much confidence as she can muster.

You have a sudden feeling that you’re the villain in her story, but you’re not entirely sure why.

“How many drinks have you had?” Steve asks as he pulls a strand of hair away from your face.

“This is my second. I was nursing my first one, Eddie says.”

The boy laughs, and you grab onto his bicep for support. The sound of it is enough to buckle your knees.

“This is my first. It’s not doing much for me.”

“You want something different? I’m sure Robin has that beer you like in her bag.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Don’t think I’m gonna drink any more tonight.”

Steve slips his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, pulling you in closer and keeping them there.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

And then he kisses you. Again. It’s slow and careful and so romantic that you think you might start crying about it.

“What time is it?” he asks when he pulls away as if nothing happened.

“Eleven thirty.”

“You wanna stay a bit longer?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Steve presses his lips to your forehead, hands cradling your cheeks.

“I kinda wanna go home.”

You smile at him, all soft and sweet.

“Then let’s go home. I’m getting a little cold, anyway. And I didn’t bring a jacket.”

“Will you ever learn?” he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“If it means I have to stop wearing your jackets that I know you bring to parties just for me? No, I won’t.”

You weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but the way Steve chuckles soothes the sting of the accidental wound.

“Let’s go home, Cherry Baby.”

Home. The assumption that the two of you will always be returning to the same place makes your heart so full, you wonder how it doesn’t spill over.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You good?”

“Feet hurt.”

This happens every single time the two of you go to a party, so you feel as if you’re reliving a memory.

“Hop on.”

“Steve-”

“Cherry. Come on. We’ll get home quicker this way.”

You can’t argue with that. Steve crouches as you jump onto his back, his hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind, resting your head on top of his.

“Comfy back there?”

You hum, the noise of agreement enough for Steve to start walking.

The two of you chat each others ears off on the way home, talking about nothing and everything. You laugh so hard at something he says that you end up with a mouthful of his hair, which he in turn finds hilarious.

“Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”

“You say a lot of things, Steven.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and giving your thighs a squeeze.

“About college.”

You go quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he’s chosen the wrong time to have this conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? When I’m not constantly worried I’m gonna accidentally trip and kill you.”

You nod, and he feels it. You know it needs to be a discussion sometime soon, but perhaps having it when you’re being carried down the street on your best friends back isn’t all that practical.

“Love you,” you mumble into the crook of Steve’s neck.

He shudders a little at your lips on his skin, leaning his head sideways to rest against yours.

“Love you, Cherry Pie. More than anything.”

You let Steve piggyback you all the way to his front door. Neither of you say anything else. Neither of you feel the need to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve bumps his hip into yours as you both brush your teeth, laughing at your shocked reflection in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you place your toothbrush back in its holder, right next to his.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

You hop up on the bathroom counter, sitting up so you’re eye to eye with the boy in front of you. He takes a step forward, standing between your legs as he splays his cold hands over your thighs.

“Why’d you ask?”

You trace over his fingers where they rest on your skin, quiet for a moment.

“You seemed pretty eager to go home tonight. It’s unlike you. You love a party. Leaving at eleven thirty is like… unheard of, for King Steve.”

“King Steve would rather be at home with you than at a party with all those people.”

“Really?”

“Really. Clara was going on about something or other, the music was too loud, and I could feel the chill coming in. It hit me, all of a sudden, that I’d rather be in bed. Or, anywhere else, as long as I was with you.”

You lean forward to rest your head against his chest, sighing when he starts playing with your hair gently.

“You’re a softie,” you mumble into his shirt. “And a mind reader.”

“It’s my one talent,” he chuckles. “I wish reading your mind was a college major. I’d be the best in the world.”

You shake your head, laughing like you can’t help it.

“If I don’t move soon, I’m gonna fall asleep on this bathroom counter.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” you tease as you hop down, “my legs actually do work.”

Steve gasps, all theatrical and exaggerated, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, sleepy girl. Let’s go to bed.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re not talking about stuff.”

You whisper it into the darkness, the trees rustling outside Steve’s window serving as the only sound you can hear.

“Hmm?”

Your legs are tangled with his, tired head resting on the boys shoulder as your sides are pressed together. You’re both lying on your backs, staring at the ceiling.

“We keep saying we’ll talk about stuff, but we haven’t been. It’s not like us.”

“You mean, like, feelings?”

“Yeah.”

All that can be heard now is two sets of heaving lungs. Steve’s hand finds yours under the duvet, fingers intertwining.

“Is there something specific that’s bothering you?”

“Not bothering me as such. I just… I think the more we don’t talk, the more complicated things become.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Steve speaks.

“I’m scared, Cherry.”

The tone of his voice is paper thin and vulnerable, and you will yourself not to cry about it.

“Of what, Stevie?”

You squeeze his hand, tucking yourself further into his side until there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“Of… everything changing. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know that what we’ve been doing isn’t typical… best friend stuff. I just…” he takes a deep breath, exhaling carefully. “I worry that something will happen and we’ll break up, and I’ll lose you forever.”

His voice cracks on the last word, fear seeping through his pores. Yet, he continues.

“I’d die without you, Cherry. I really would. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a world where we’re not… us.”

You turn onto your side to face him in the dark, reaching up to cradle his cheek softly. You rest your forehead against his temple, pressing a kiss into his skin.

“I’m scared too. I have been ever since that first night in my room. Not because I don’t trust you, or because I don’t feel that way about you… but because I don’t want to lose you either. More than anything, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why didn’t we talk about this sooner?” he laughs, throat thick with emotion.

“Because we’re us. And whether we talk or don’t talk, we know we’ll figure it out. We always know we’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” he whispers into the dark. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

“I love you,” you whisper back. “More than all the grains of sand on all the beaches in the world.”

You press another kiss into his temple, letting your lips linger on his soft skin. He smells so familiar, so warm, so yours… you can’t help but inhale, chuckling when he shudders.

You continue to leave kisses across his jaw, over his ear, down his neck. He tilts his head to give you better access, groaning when you nip at his throat with your teeth, licking over the scrape to soothe him.

Steve pulls you in as if you weigh nothing, moving you so you’re lying on top of him. You sit up, straddling his lap, as he does the same so you’re chest to chest. Running his hands under your shirt and over the bare skin of your back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You look so pretty like this,” he hums against your lips. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You wanna talk about pretty?” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “My pretty, pretty boy.”

Steve’s hips buck up into yours, making you giggle.

“Oh, you like that? You like it when I call you pretty? Or do you just like it when I call you mine?”

His hips buck again as his cheeks flush pink.

“I am yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been.”

You thought you had the upper hand for a minute, but now you just want to cry. You’re overwhelmed by the way you feel about the boy underneath you, unsure of how to process it without bursting into tears.

“All mine,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your fingertip.

Steve takes a deep breath, watching your eyes as they look over him again and again, taking him in as if it’s the first time. He decides it’s now or never.

“Cherry?”

“Stevie?”

Your voices are low and careful, irregardless of the fact that you’re alone in the house.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops, and so does the world outside. Everything pauses, the two of you suspended in this moment in time.

Steve takes another breath, exhaling it carefully before meeting your eyes and continuing.

“You don’t have to say it back. Now, or ever. I just - I needed you to know.”

You blink back tears as you watch his face, biting your lip to stop them from falling.

“Steve-”

“Hey, I told you. You don’t have to say anything, babe. I know-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just-”

You surge forward and kiss him with all the affection you can muster, trying to express your feelings. You grip his hair, plastering your bodies together where you sit in his lap still. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in as close as he can.

“If you let me talk,” you say when you pull away, all breathless, “you’d hear that I have something I’d like to say.”

Steve smiles, humming in acknowledgment and encouraging you to keep going.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

The boy looks shocked to hear it, as if it’s news to him.

“What’s that face for?” you laugh.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to say it back.”

“Steve,” you chuckle, looking at him sternly. When you realise he’s being serious, you double down. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. When we were kids, and someone would say the word ‘husband’, I always pictured you. I was so convinced it was always going to end up being you and I.”

“Why… why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel as if you’re on cloud nine. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed to yours, frantic like he’s just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He leans up to kiss you, all saccharine and honey sweet.

“Say it again,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Cherry.”

“Say it again.”

“I, Steve Harrington, declare that I am completely, utterly, ridiculously in love with this girl right here. I always have been. I always will be.”

You can’t help but throw your head back with laughter.

“And I love you. So much.”

The words you’ve always said mean so much more now. It’s a welcome change, one you never thought you’d see happen.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You lean in, nosing at his jaw as you murmur into his ear.

“Want you. So bad.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groans, all low and rough.

“Please. Want it to be you.”

Looking up at you with big eyes, he searches your face for any kind of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

Smoothing his hair away from his face, you trace your thumb over his bottom lip.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I’m about to rock your world, Cherry Blossom.”

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @clairesjointshurt @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss @ladyburberry @thenonweeknd @abarelyexistentbeing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @slut4gaga @hopelessromanticwriter @mgchaser @wintrsoldrluvr

[flufflecat]

happy pride month, im so glad to see people doing fun new varieties of ace discourse this year -_-

[kyouka-supremacy]

---

[gynecologistmsfrizzle]

“what to tell a doctor to get an autism diagnosis” “here’s what i learned from realizing i was autistic at 40″ “i would never want a professional diagnosis” “person first language is so regressive” “autism symptoms are only a problem because of ableism” “we dont need treatment” “no autistic person wants a cure” “four doctors told me i couldn’t be autistic so i found a fifth” “autism is an invisible disability” “dont disclose your neurodivergency to employers” “i/dd and autism have nothing to do with each other” “nt parents/advocates have no place in autism communities” “of course im autistic have you heard me talk about horror movies” babe i have nothing in common with any of you

[pepprs]

prefacing this by saying im fine and its whatever and im mostly numb to it. but it kinda fucking sucks that being gaslit about my own sexuality leads to… doubting my own sexuality lol!

[smalltownfae]

Unfortunately, some people are an influencer first and a reader second.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 266

Back on my Danny & Ras frienemies/rivals/maybe-lovers-nobody-can-tell-their-signals-are-very-mixed train. 

See, Danny has gone through time a lot. Often. It comes with being Clockwork’s charge-son-thing and honestly he finds it fun. And several times he’s used this time travelling to get some training in. Enter Ras, stage left, also a teen at the time and also learning swordsmanship from the same person. 

And they… utterly despise each other. They would kill the other for an apple slice, if the other one would die! But also, only they can kill the other, as it is obviously their right! 

And well, they keep running into each other. It has been a hundred years, surely the other would die by now? But of course their rival would live through utter spite. Probably to spite them specifically. 

The amount of times they have ended up sparring- trying to kill each other or not- the moment they see the other is actually ridiculous. But time is also passing. And… Danny understands, not having another to talk about things people are forgetting, or have already forgotten. 

How they ended up actually talking without a murder attempt was a long story that included a demon, a dragon, a pair of fae, some bandits, and a lot of alcohol, but it happened. And then it happens again. And again, and now it’s just kind of normal to share a drink after their spars, talking about things that no longer exist, and things they miss. 

Sure Danny can go back in time again, but he knows better than to do it willy nilly. He’s matured, he’s been an adult for a hundred years now, he knows there’s consequences for messing with time, even with Clockwork’s blessings. 

The first time they got married was technically for an undercover assassination. Well, Ras was there to assassinate someone, Danny was there to grab an artifact that should Not be in the realm of the living. And they got divorced after, it was fine. 

They just, also got married again when they met a few years later, for another job. And… okay, so maybe they have gotten married over a dozen times now and only divorced like half of those times. Half of those were for the bit or while drunk! 

And even if technically they’re married or shared a bed, it’s not like they're exclusive! As Ras’ daughters’ existences attest to (adopted in one case or not). They don’t exactly have a label for their relationship, despite others asking for one or trying to put a name to it themselves. 

Now Danny knows Ras isn’t exactly a good dude, or at least on the side of ‘good’ as he’s a literal assassin. But he also knows that good? Bad? Rather relative. He had gotten labeled as a villain when he was just trying to help all that time ago after all, and really who was he to tell someone else how to live their life? 

Which brings him to now, where he’s run into his old frienemy-rival and his youngest daughter. Who has a braindead teenager and a small toddler. Which is fine, really- but also, Talia dear, why are you using a brain dead teenager to guard your three year old son? 

…

Okay, Talia dear, Ras (Derogatory), why are you using your brain dead son and grandson to guard your younger son and grandson? Do you not have the Pits, which you were soo proud about Ras? Yes, he will spar with you, but for Realms’ sake, heal, what’s his name? Ah yes, go heal Jason and he’ll actually stick around for a few years, deal? Good. 

[athena5898]

I often think when people hear "infantilizing a group of people", they think of it literarily that we are actively being made a infant. While this is a part of it, I think people miss the subtle things that end up causing chasms in their relationships with that group of people.

It's actually hard to pinpoint because it's never a singular event, it's many tiny things but the end result is always "I am the authority, I will always know more then you, I will never take your advice, I will never be honest with you (you know to spare *your* feelings), any disagreement is your fault, any problem in your life is my cross to bear and you must follow how I tell you to fix it, I will never stoop myself to understanding what your needs are as X group and will view everything from my own lens and judge you accordingly, we are not equals, and we never will be. (This is not a exhausted list, nor will everyone have all the same traits)

It is very hard to connect with someone who just automatically assumes a higher status to you just because of something you can't change. All the while the offender thinks what they are doing is actually a good thing. They are somehow helping you by just assuming they are better then you (which in the end, that's kinda what this is).

I have a few people in my life that I care for a lot, but they are not that much older then me yet they act like I can't possibly understand them and automatically shove this "child" label on my forhead.

And here is the thing, they will voluntarily bring up why they think this if you pay attention. It might be trauma they've dealt with, it might be that they have kids and you don't, age, or anything else like this. However I think it's important to note that I have friends who do not talk down to me and respect me as my own person with autonomy and also have these things going on in their life. So it's not like it's impossible to treat someone with respect and have these differences.

Now what do some of these subtle differences look like? There are many ways they can materialize but to name a few.

- Demanding the person solves a problem their way despite the person telling them why their circumstances do not allow that.

- assuming...well anything and all the time. These people have a tendency to think they know exactly what you are feeling and other such things and if you try to correct them then they will actually get upset at you or show some type of passive aggressiveness.

-Speaking on your behalf without asking permission

-never valuing your expertise on any subject. They are older/more mature then you, therefore to them they know more about everything. What's really fun (/s) about this is when they will explain to you, why you are wrong, by repeating what you said back at you.

- any reason why you can't do a thing, or why you need an aide is an excuse. You could do it if you *really* wanted to, but you are just being lazy. Now the real adult has to take up your burden.

- they do not/cannot listen to you. No matter what you say or how you say it, or if they even confirm what you say, there is always a part of them that is not listening. Or hell, they could of listened to you, but since what you say isn't important to them, they will quickly forget it and may even try and claim you never said anything to them.

- I'm not sure if this counts as infantilizing, but I notice that it happens a lot in tandem. While they think less of you and treat you like a child whose facts and opinions don't matter, all of this will change at a moment's notice when they need something from you...oddly enough something they probably normally do not take seriously from you on a normal day. Suddenly thrusting you with this burden of taking care of them even though they are never there for you in any meaningful actually helpful way most of the time. Like you will literally be demanded to stop what you are doing, and get over whatever you are going through to help them and their problem. I cannot explain how frustrating it is to be demanded to be the mature one while most of the time being denied respect.

I could go on, but honestly if I sat here and thought of every single tiny thing they do to make sure there is distance between you and them up on their self made pedestals, I'd be here all day.

The worst part on all of this is that I have no idea how to resolve it. People who do this are not inherently bad people, hell they might not even realize they do it. But this can actually make it more difficult to bring to their attention. I have tried many ways and many different times to resolve this, but I haven't been successful yet. Anyone who has corrected themselves were people who just had a little mess up but still obviously viewed me as a person from the start.

These subtle ways someone can dehumanize you, it can cause terrible rifts and of course the other person never understands why (see point above about not listening)

I am writing this as a autistic person, but I know there are others who go through this. Please check the ways you create artificial authority over someone.

Edit: someone reblogged this with hashtags about how we shouldn't do this to children either and I completely agree, I was using the term because it's the one often used to explain these things. Adding the edit cause I have no idea how to respond to the hashtag thing and I think it's a important thing to note.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Dedicated to this lil request here 🫶🏽

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It’s no secret that Theodore Nott had a rough childhood

Between witnessing his mother’s death at a young age and having a particularly ruthless father, Theo learned to be quietly reserved early on

1000% Theo is an introvert

Despite being seemingly closed off, he’s extremely observant and good at reading others and picking up on things quickly

While he may not be the best at deciphering his own emotions, he’s able to sort through others’ easily

This makes it easy for him to be rather manipulative because he knows what makes other’s tick and how to go straight for the jugular

He may be distant and off putting in the beginning, but once you get close, he’s a clingy bastard because he doesn’t let many people get close, so once you make it there he’ll basically hold you captive forever

He’s also stupid smart

(Canonically he’s able to re-create an illegal time turner after they were all destroyed in the department of mysteries so//)

And this makes him a bit of an arrogant asshole

Looks down on people he thinks aren’t as smart as him

He definitely thinks that he knows best and can have a “my way or the highway” type mindset

Probably has some type of gifted kid™️ trauma and a crippling fear of failure

Anyway, he’s super intelligent and witty and has the potential to do really well in classes

But he has a nasty habit off skiving off with Mattheo Riddle

Who happens to be his best friend along with Lorenzo Berkshire

A lot of people think Theo is the “mother” of the group, or at least the one with the most impulse control

They’re wrong

Theo is the one that Mattheo goes to with his dumbass ideas and Theo’s response is generally something along the lines of-

“Absolutely not you tosser. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right”

Queue Mattheo’s initial plan- only methodically planned out to cause maximal emotional trauma for the Hogwarts population

Theo and Mattheo are also a chaotic duo on the quidditch pitch

Theo is a chaser

Making the quidditch team in his third year is one of the only times his father showed a hint of satisfaction with the boy

Being on the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s often labeled a preppy jock

And Mattheo does help him break out of his shell more

But he’s a nerdy lil book worm at heart and likes to be holed up in the library most days

Theo also has quite the reputation of being a ladies man with rumors about his escapades swarming the student body

But really they’re just that- rumors

Lorenzo is more of the openly flirtatious pretty boy, and Mattheo certainly knows how to make his way around which is perhaps why people think Theo would be the same way

But he isn’t one to really form physical attachments- emotional or not

He prefers to fly under the radar

He may have had a fling or two, but isn’t one to kiss and tell

He has a hard time entering a real relationship

Mostly because when he first realizes he’s caught feelings, he’s convinced he’s actually just ill and stays in bed pretending to be sick

But once he comes to terms with things, he’s one determined wizard

Makes sure everyone knows that you’re off limits (possibly before you know yourself)

Definitely goes to Enzo for advice on how to woo you

With varying degrees of success

King of subtle PDA (just enough to mark his territory)

Confident and secure in his relationship, but also still jealous as hell

Will hex the living shit out of someone for breathing at you the wrong way

Finds it amusing when you get jealous though

But will shut it the fuck down as soon as he picks up on you being actually upset (probably embarrassing whoever it is in the process)

Not always the best at communicating his feeling cause he’s emotionally constipated af

But tries because he knows he doesn’t want a relationship like his parent’s

Okayyy I think that’s all for now, but I have a feeling these will grow and evolve with time sooo- ongoing (?) idk

[vidavalor]

Hey, so...

Have you all noticed *how* Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking in 1941? And by this I mean... that they barely are? <wink>

Crowley has been drinking for millennia by this point. He gets drunk as Bildad the Shuite in 2500 B.C.. Aziraphale has been drinking since sometime prior to the scene in Rome, which is also when we see them drink together for the first time. *This* scene is 1941 so countless years and meet ups between Crowley and Aziraphale have taken place since and considering how these two drink together in other situations-- like how completely wasted they were in the "eleven years ago" scene in S1-- this one here in 1941 is *interesting.* Why?

Because friends, that is *one bottle of wine* on the table beside Aziraphale and I can still see wine in it above the label, which means what's currently in their glasses is less than the first half of the bottle... which means the glasses they are sharing now that Aziraphale just poured are their first drinks of the evening... and neither of them are really drinking much of it. That signals an intent not to drink very much at all-- the open bottle probably being plenty for the two of them. They're going slowly, without an intention to get drunk, but not really just to savor together a particularly interesting vintage. They don't seem to be noticing or tasting the wine at all. Aziraphale poured them both a good amount but not overkill but both of them so far in this scene just take cautious, *small* sips of the wine... and they don't need to conserve it, ok?

It's not the war. It's canon that Aziraphale has a case of Chateauneuf-de-Pape that he picked up in the 1920s sitting in the back of this shop at this very minute that he doesn't bust open until "Eleven Years Ago" in the future of S1 and Crowley is a bootlegger in this moment in history lol and also they're both literally magic. They could miracle wine from halfway around the world if they wanted to. There's wine to drink if they want to get drunk...

...and they both have silently agreed that they don't want to.

It is the *only* time that they drink together in a scene that we've seen where they have a mutual agreement to not drink that much. Even when Aziraphale *didn't drink*, he still got *food* drunk while Crowley was drinking in the Job minisode.

But when they're having a drink together in 1941, both of them are very clearly, by a kind of unspoken agreement from the vibes in the room, *not really drinking.* Just a little. A few sips that will lead to a glass or two a piece total, at most-- that bottle split between them would be a lot from the air of and the pace of them in this scene.

And I mean... forgetting for a moment that Aziraphale will get drunk without issue in other scenes, we all know Crowley, right? This Crowley...

In S1, part of *God's narration* lol includes that Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking for six straight hours in the bookshop together in "Eleven Years Ago." Rome is one thing because they had just had just met up so we don't know how sloshed they got over oysters at Petronius' new restaurant (and would seem likely that they did) but in every other scene when they drink together, basically, they drink quite a bit and both of them usually wind up drunk, especially Crowley.

So why is 1941 different?

Because they're drinking like people who both want to mess around, that's why.

Yeah, people mess around while drunk and I'm sure the same can be said for any of the few Effort-curious angels and demons outside of these two but Crowley and Aziraphale are not a casual hookup to one another-- they're in love, they're best friends, and they haven't been together before after literal millennia of pining and yearning for it. It's not something that's happening while they're drunk. They want to be sober and for it to be special and the evening here in 1941 has really got everything lining up for a perfectly romantic night, if they want it to be. All the rescuing one another and little glances and now Aziraphale's asked Crowley back to the bookshop for a late night drink and they're both drinking like they want it to be tonight.

They're both silently telling one another they want something to happen by the fact that they're drinking with no intention to get drunk. They want to be present. They want to remember. They want each other's explicit consent so they're barely drinking the wine so that it's evident that if things get intimate, it's not because either or both of them are drunk, and no one has to stop over concern over that.

Aziraphale is looking at Crowley looking all dashing, unusually quiet for him, maybe a bit nervous and still hiding a little behind his glasses-- Hell's biggest lush taking the world's smallest, barely-there sip of that wine lol-- and is like how many more tiny sips do we need to take before I can crawl onto his lap...?

Aziraphale's like omg, the sex is going to be amazing... thank God I don't yet know in this moment that something-- like some Zombie Nazis, probably-- will stop us and we'll still be on trying to kiss one another 80 years from now...

[hoshigray]

⋆⁺₊⋆ JJK ☾ Masterlist ⋆⁺₊⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝑫𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖: Most (if not ALL) of the works listed below contain 18+ material, so minors do not interact. Warnings of the material are labeled in their respective warnings/contents sections (cw).

ᯓ 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 ★

— ✦ Multi-Character/Threesomes:

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen) ⋮ Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up. (wc: 6.6k)

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! | t. fushiguro + k. nanami ⋮ Taking your daughter to a sleepover with her best buds is easy peasy; ending up staying over at said sleepover to have some fun of your own with the two single dads you're crushing on? Not so much... (wc: 9.8k)

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐇! | s. getō + c. kamo ⋮ Winning a V.I.P. meet-and-greet with your favorite metal band members of all time has you over the moon! But what happens if the duo rewards you for being such a loyal supporter?! (wc: not released yet...)

— ✧ Kamo Chōsō:

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 | Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot. (wc: 6.4k)

— ✦ Nanami Kento:

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | Nanami returns home from work to his loving partner, and you happily welcome him. Taking off his blazer, led him to the bedroom, giving him a "massage," doing all the things to help ease the poor blonde of stress. But what does a "massage" entail, and why does it involve his necktie? (wc: 2k)

— ✧ Getō Suguru:

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…! (wc: 9.2k)

— ✦ Gojō Satoru:

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | Gojo isn’t one to mess with other people’s relationships, especially yours, the widow of his best friend, Geto. And now, when celebrating the anniversary of your late husband’s death, you’re most definitely off limits…when alcohol isn’t involved. (wc: 6k)

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!? (wc: 10.3k)

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be… (wc: 7.6k)

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that. (wc: 10.3k)

— ✧ Fushiguro Tōji:

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 "𝐔" 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 | (sugardaddy! Toji x sugarbaby! reader) (wc: 4.9k)

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 | You're not quite aware of what Toji does for work, yet you keep quiet. But one night, the man comes home bleeding, and you can't keep your worries to yourself anymore. However, for your protection, Toji isn't ready to reveal his assassin business to you. And, in the heat of the moment, ends up saying something that hurts you instead... (wc: 5.8k)

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 | "Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids." (wc: 3.4k)

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐝 | "wedding night with sexually frustrated toji. Reader is virgin." (wc: 2.7k)

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right? (wc: 7.6k)

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 [& 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑬] 𝐔𝐏!! | It's bad enough you got a crush on your gym instructor, Toji; however, it gets worse when things become too close and personal for this relationship...But who says you shouldn't get a little praise for your hard work? (wc: 8.4k)

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐙 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | Everyone knows you are Toji's favorite stripper. So, it's no surprise that he'd want to have you to himself for a night at the V.I.P. section, not that you're complaining. (wc: 5.6k)

ᯓ 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒔 ★

— ✦ Kamo Chōsō:

Choso x you k-i-s-s-i-n-g

— ✧ Kento Nanami:

Nanami's hands

Rough and Tough

— ✦ Gojō Satoru:

handsy

— ✧ Ryōmen Sukuna:

Bite the Mark

— ✦ Fushiguro Tōji:

assassin duo ✶ (fic pt. ii)

Repeat That for Daddy

hate sex w/ toji

drunk on kisses

spit in my mouth

Tease and Feast

ᯓ 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔/𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒔 ★

— ✦ Multi-Character:

You Said You Wanna Break Up? | geto + toji

two for one: college special! | geto + gojo

compete to breed | geto + gojo

marking what's ours | choso + yuki

double sucker | toji + sukuna

— ✧ Kamo Chōsō:

lifeguard mouth-to-mouth protocol

blood and love drugs

bro's bff should know better

and so...they were both switches!

— ✦ Getō Suguru:

Tie Me, Use Me, Love Me

who you be huggin'?

blow off some steam

— ✧ Gojō Satoru:

him as a Megan Thee Stallion fan (just an ask for giggles; sfw)

chubby, bubbly, fuck like bunnies

never just a makeout

sweet, sweet betrayal (sfw)

— ✦ Ryōmen Sukuna:

Ride that Dom

don't touch what's mine

bad boy rules! ✶ who said you were in charge?

monster fucker going softer

who told you to avoid me?

— ✧ Fushiguro Tōji:

DILF! neighbor! toji

t h i c k fingers

tryin to dom him

bratty gf on their period

virgin! reader

finding out you like to get spanked

teaching you how to give a blowjob

motorcyclist! toji

grocery grind ✶ sfw version

ex-husband! toji

bratty assassin! reader

putting makeup on him (sfw)

gigolo! toji ✶ stumbling upon you w/ another gigolo

mean! toji + hate sex

Suck Him Real Good

stripper! reader giving a lap dance

falling to restrain hardcore dom! toji

69 Feels So Fine .ᐟ

be soft with me

flirt and get treated like dirt

"Pussymatized"

kissy cuz i missy

growin' harder and stiffer

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023–2024 ★ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, translate, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

Updated ✩ June 7th, 2024...

[genderkoolaid]

lol you’re really slow if you believe that “transmisandry” is on the same level as transmisogyny. no one is denying that trans men face oppression because they are trans men, because they absolutely do! but a lot of the time, when you hear stories about trans men being assaulted or killed, it is purely because of misogyny; because they were perceived as a woman, if not for another outside reason. meanwhile, when a trans woman is killed, it is almost always because she is trans, not to mention that trans women have way more stigma against us compared to trans men. just look at who conservatives always blame for “gender ideology,” it’s ALWAYS a trans woman

"no one is–" yes they do. frequently people do exactly that. for example:

"trans men (mostly) get assaulted and killed because they are perceived as women." downplaying the role transness plays in the violence we experience is not much better than denying it happens at all. also calling me "slow" first thing in an ask is a bad idea if you want to seem reasonable.

First of all, people rarely ever admit that! People genuinely get pissed off at trans men for saying they are vulnerable to misogynistic violence while not being women. You are only admitting that trans men experience misogyny as an argument for why talking about anti-transmasculinity is BadWrong Actually.

Trans men are murdered and labeled women, trans men in abusive families and marriages aren't allowed to transition, so the vulnerability of trans men is never recognized. Woaaaah it's almost like.... the misogyny is intersecting with something..... being trans perhaps?

Second, "you only get murdered because people mistake you as a woman" is also an argument used against trans women, by people who are invested in ignoring the complexities of trans people's relationship with misogyny.

Thirdly, trans men do get assaulted and killed for being trans. Not that they always get enough police attention that the motivations or attackers will ever be known (very much the same case with trans women victims). Do you know any of their names? Do you talk about the violence done to them, ever? Not just Brandon Teena, but Ebeng Mayor? Myles Utz? Ahmed El-Tounsi? Gautam Ramachandra and Shaman Gupta? Zahair Martinez? Abhay Gondane? Ky Peterson? Jacob Williamson? Lourenzo Broken? Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton? Camdyn Rider? Manoj? Do you ever think about them? Because I think the fact that we only talk about the violence against trans men when we are talking about how it barely ever happens and should be shoved aside to make space for the Real Issues says a lot.

Genuinely, what good do you think you are bringing to the world by sending me this ask?

[somewhat-insane]

~Shadowpeach Headcanons (I'm Delusional)~

I did this because I was bored... so if you happen to like this... uh... feel free to suggest other things you would want to see headcanons for (I also take art and one-shot requests too -3- (pleaseee, I need ideassss))

Neither of them bothers labeling their relationship (Macaque is more aware of identities and labels and identifies as bisexual. On the other hand, if you ask Wukong about his pronouns, he'll just stare at you silently before completely changing the subject.)

Wukong may be a jerk, but one thing he absolutely WON'T do is make fun of Macaque's art. (He was always happy when Macaque would express himself when they were younger and still has a similar mentality about it. Definitely would diss anyone else's art though.)

Both are subconsciously protective of the other's boundaries (Macaque steers clear of subjects that might trigger memories of Wukong's past, and Wukong makes sure others don't get too loud around Macaque (while still forgetting to check his own volume.) If you were to ask them, they'd say it's because they're the only ones who get to antagonize each other.)

Wukong is surprisingly good at dancing; Macaque is salty about it.

They fall asleep facing away from each other and then wake up cuddling

At first, they would stick around each other just to be annoying, but it slowly turned into them genuinely hanging out, and now they have regular "dates."

Macaque writes notes to remind Wukong of things when he can't be there to remind him himself, and Wukong doodles on them (and then forgets what he was supposed to do anyway)

Wukong likes to draw Macaque smiling (both genuine smiles and that bastard smile he does)

Macaque is surprisingly cuddly in the morning.

They are groggy after waking up, but sometimes Wukong will be up all night and super energetic when Mac wakes up.

Macaque constantly rearranges the furniture, and Wukong runs into stuff because he moves through rooms on muscle memory

Macaque tries flirting with Wukong, but it all goes over his head. Meanwhile, Wukong says things that fluster Macaque without even knowing it.

Macaque laughs so hard at Wukong that he snorts, and Wukong teases him for it.

They have so many inside jokes that their conversations have become incomprehensible to people who don't know them.

They don't like beds and will shove a bunch of blankets in a corner and curl up there if they can't sleep outside because it's raining.

They have serious talks late at night that they both pretend never happened in the morning.

Both of them get really excited about random things and will info dump on each other

Macaque is scared of his food/drinks being contaminated and won't eat/drink something that is out of his sight for too long; sometimes, he trusts Wukong to watch his food, and other times doesn't

Wukong loves eating peaches and playing in the dirt but hates the feeling of his skin being sticky or dirt under his claws; Macaque will grumble and huff but will eventually clean him up

They make weird noises at each other.

Wukong still doesn't understand tech and constantly has to ask Macaque for help. Macaque is more knowledgeable than Wukong but still has to ask MK for help helping Wukong sometimes.

Wukong doesn't save his drawings because he doesn't think they're that important, but Macaque always keeps them. The same can be said vice versa.

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[talesofesther]

this town’s for the record now

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Distance is a strange concept. Jenna feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world. If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

Requested by @thenextdawn

A/N: Tweaked the idea just a slight bit but I hope you like it, sweetheart. I wrote half of this very much sleep deprived so if anything is weird blame it on that, also take some technical things here with a grain of salt because I know very little about how shooting movies/series works. Much love babes. <3

Word count: 5k (this got out of hand pretty fast)

Masterlist

The airport was bustling with people. Some arriving, tiredness clouding their features along with happiness as they were welcomed by loved ones; others speeding down the halls, suitcases in hand as they rushed to not miss their flights.

Jenna, though her flight was about to leave, was stalling. Her gaze skimmed over the crowd around. Her hands tightly held onto yours, as if you'd disappear if she loosened her grip.

And she wasn't too far off.

You brushed your thumb over the skin on her hand, trying to convey some sense of calmness, "I think it's time for you to go, otherwise the plane will leave without you."

Jenna grinned half-heartedly, swinging your joined hands around as she leaned her head on the wall to her right. "Would it be too bad if I let that happen?"

It was your little moment of peace. This corner of the airport suddenly became your fleeting safe haven for a precious second.

"I think," you started, pulling her towards you so you could wrap her in a hug, "some people would be very mad at you if you missed this flight."

Jenna encircled her arms around your waist, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face on your shoulder, "I'd be with you though," she mumbled, words muffled against you.

Pulling back so you could look at her, you took hold of her hands again.

Honestly, you were striving to keep a strong facade on, to be the support you knew she needed. But deep down, you were holding back your own tears.

"It'll go by quickly, you'll see."

"It's eight months," Jenna sighed, "all the way on Romania. I'm excited about it, but, I never stayed away this long."

The 'we never stayed apart this long' went unsaid.

And it was true. It made you think for a moment that, to the naked eye, you two could easily be seen as a couple delaying their inevitable goodbye. That wasn't the case though, there wasn't a label to what you and Jenna were. Not yet. And it would have to wait until she came back.

"You'll be alright, I know you will," you encouraged, "you're gonna nail this role. You'll be the best Wednesday this world has ever seen," you smiled proudly, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

It got Jenna chuckling, all teary-eyed and flushed cheeks. "You'll text me every day, right? Call too?"

"Of course I will, I already miss you," you pouted.

She squeezed your hands, "promise?"

"Promise."

—

For those eight months, you kept your promise.

Every day you texted, called, and sometimes video-chatted with Jenna; checking up on her, lifting her mood, or simply talking.

You missed her more than you ever missed anyone in your life, and you could tell she felt the same. But for a while, it was bearable, because you talked every day.

Until Jenna started breaking the pattern.

It started slow, but steady. One unanswered text here, one missed call there, and suddenly you went two or three days without talking to each other.

It was comprehensible, Jenna was working after all. So you didn't think anything of it when the new normal became calling each other every four or five days.

But when those days spaced out, you counted yourself lucky if you heard from her at least once a week, and then every two weeks — her responses short and to the point.

Yet you kept sending her texts; simple 'good mornings' and 'hope you have an awesome day on set'. Because you promised you would, she asked you to.

Even if, involuntarily, you started to feel like a bit of a nuisance to her when she answered you with a plain 'u too' every now and then.

It happened slowly; Jenna became a stranger. A stranger you still loved greatly.

—

Hey Jen, how have you been? I just wanted to let you know that I got the role for that movie I texted you about a few weeks ago. So yeah, I'm very excited. Hope everything is well, I really miss you.

You stared at the message on your phone, your finger hesitating to tap the send button. You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to get rid of the nerves.

Sometimes it hurts, because it wasn't like this — though that reality feels very far away now.

The filming process for Wednesday wrapped almost three months ago. You knew that because right before she left Romania, Jenna had called you, and for a lovely moment, things felt okay; you could hear the tears in her voice when she told you how much she missed you, apologizing over and over for not keeping in touch and saying how much she couldn't wait to be back, promising to come see you soon.

But that never happened.

You haven't seen Jenna ever since you said goodbye to her at the airport, ten months ago.

You guessed that's what distance does to people.

Yet, the stubborn part of you still texts her sometimes, because when you close your eyes all you can see is that teary-eyed Jenna who made you swear to always keep in touch with her. So you do. You tell her about your little bits of progress in the acting career, about some roles you manage to get, and if you're lucky, you'll get a response with 'congratulations'.

As of today, you haven't heard from her in two months. And if you cried about it a few nights ago, that's no one's business.

You understand she's busy, you see it in her on every interview that you watch — because you know her, you know the way her posture changes when she's getting tired, you know her mannerisms when she's nervous, you know when her smile is not the brightest it can be — but you think that, if she felt for you as much as you feel for her, she'd try to keep in touch. She would come to see you.

You pressed send on the message and put your phone back in your pocket the very next second.

Sad as it may seem, you didn't expect an answer.

—

"Hey, wait up."

You looked back over your shoulder, only to see your cast mate jogging up to you in the parking lot, big smile on his face.

"Something wrong?" You asked, adjusting your backpack over your shoulder.

"No, not at all," he told you as he caught his breath, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "I just wanted to say, you did really good in there."

You averted your gaze when you felt your cheeks warming up, getting compliments from people infinitely more talented and popular than you would always feel surreal.

"I mean it," he ducked down, searching for your eyes, "that was one of the best monologues I've witnessed in a while."

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, "it means a lot coming from you."

He waved off your words as if telling you, yet again, to stop putting him on a pedestal. "That being said, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to audition for my next movie."

To say your eyes widened in surprise was an understatement, you asked him to repeat himself and he did; grinning fondly, telling you all about the natural talent you have and how he couldn't forgive himself if he allowed it to go to waste.

You, of course, agreed promptly. And squealed like a schoolgirl once he was out of earshot.

Before you got into your car, you took your cell phone from your backpack, still bubbling with excitement as the offer didn't quite feel real yet.

For a fleeting second, the sight of your last unanswered text when you opened the conversation didn't make your heart clench in pain.

Jenna, you won't believe what just happened…

—

The production of a movie of this caliber wasn't like anything you'd done before; there were so many things going on all at once, so many more people involved, so much more work for you — comes with the territory when playing the main character, you knew that, but still, it was all somewhat new for you.

By the end of most weeks, you were absolutely exhausted.

You pushed open the door of your trailer with a groan, rubbing your temple to try and chase away the beginnings of a headache.

The only lights you turned on were the ones in your little kitchen area, keeping the place dimly lit so it was easier on your tired eyes.

Not bothering to change out of your work clothes for now, you threw yourself on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt your muscles relax.

Maybe it was the late hour and the vulnerability of your worn-out body; but most nights after a busy day, you found your mind drifting to memories that involved a certain someone. If you closed your eyes forcefully enough, you could pretend to be back there — your shoulder pressed snuggly against hers as she told you all about her day on set, her fingers sneaking to intertwine with yours, the weight of her head when she'd inevitably succumb to sleep against you — memories exist outside of time anyway.

When the screen of your phone lit up, you swore you could almost feel your heartbeat stumbling. You picked it up so fast that it almost fell on your face.

Jenna's name was on your screen, and you hated the way that it brought tears to your eyes.

You hesitated when opening the text, not daring to breathe or get your hopes up.

'That's exciting' was her response to your rather long list of unanswered texts, the last one being the one of you talking about the new movie you're working on.

No 'how are you', no 'I miss you'.

You closed your eyes and felt a tear running down your cheek, typing back the one thing you felt;

Sometimes I wish I had let that plane leave without you.

—

The movie you starred in ended up being the push you needed to be recognized. It was a success, and you were the reason why.

It premiered only a few weeks after Wednesday did. Jenna became known worldwide, and you sort of did too.

And that's what it took for you to finally see each other again.

If someone told you a year ago that you'd be attending the Golden Globes, you'd call them crazy. Yet here you are; timidly smiling as a billion cameras flash in front of your eyes.

And in the midst of greeting acquaintances, posing for pictures, and talking to reporters, your eyes caught sight of her.

She was nothing short of divine, soft pinkish-brown dress fitting her to perfection and her hair way shorter than when you'd last seen her. You didn't think Jenna could ever be more beautiful, but she's apparently always proving you wrong.

It felt like a gravity pull on your heart, urging you to walk closer to her, and if you ditched a reporter or two along the way, you couldn't care less. Your stomach was twirling in apprehension, it shouldn't be but it is, because sad as it feels, you don't know what you mean to each other anymore.

Jenna had her back to you as she spoke with someone you didn't know. You could feel your hands slick with perspiration when you cleared your throat a little awkwardly. She probably didn't hear, so you resorted to lightly tapping her shoulder.

It felt like seeing her for the first time in your life at the same time that it felt like you never parted ways at all. Though there was this painful squeezing in your chest that's never been there before. You smiled softly, breathing out a simple; "hi."

Jenna's eyes widened the slightest bit when she saw you, her lips hanging open when she had trouble forming words; it was a one-second thing, she was quick to recover and get her features back to impassive. Something you knew all too well was a bad habit of hers — suppressing what she's feeling.

"Hi, I- I had no idea you'd be coming," she told you, her eyes unable to find a place to focus on your face.

You pursed your lips, acutely aware of the cameras on every corner of the place. "Yeah, I tried to tell you but, you must've missed my text." The words felt heavy on your tongue, your smile didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I didn't mean-" Jenna's voice broke halfway through and she clamped her mouth shut to avoid a making scene.

It got you looking up to meet her gaze, and there were so many emotions swimming in her eyes that you couldn't put your finger on any of them.

Before you or she could say anything else, a reporter was calling out for Jenna, drawing both of your attention.

Jenna glanced between you and the reporter, before adjusting her posture and managing a smile. "I'll see you later, okay?" She told you, already turning away from you.

"No, Jenna wait, can't we talk?" You tried reaching out for her hand but she pulled away.

"Not right now."

"I just wanted to-"

She glanced back at you, taking hold of her dress in a white-knuckled grip to pull it up so she could walk faster; "I can't deal with you right now, okay? Please stop… crowding me."

Her voice had little emotion to it, but it froze you in place nonetheless. You figured a knife to the heart might hurt less.

Jenna walked away from you, smiling and waving to the cameras whilst you strived to not make the headlines as the actress who cried at the Golden Globes for apparently no reason.

So you were right in the end, she saw you as nothing but a nuisance.

—

There was a team waiting to help her get rid of the makeup and glam if she so wanted, but Jenna sent them away.

After such an event, there was nothing she desired more than peace.

Jenna's steps were slow and dragged as she made her way inside her hotel room, still holding onto her long dress, though with much less care than she did in front of the cameras. Part of it is always an act.

She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the previously perfectly styled waves with a sigh.

The shower had been long awaited and she almost napped on the bathtub; not really bothering to meticulously clean up the makeup, leaving a few smudges of eyeshadow here and there — that could be a problem for tomorrow.

And there was nothing more blissful than putting on sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

Her life has been nothing short of hectic ever since starting the filming for Wednesday, so Jenna enjoyed 200% every little time to relax that she had. Though today, she was restless, something had a tight hold on her chest and she couldn't pinpoint what.

She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to sleep even if she was exhausted and she wasn't sure why insomnia decided to kick in now.

That is, until she took her cell phone and a few clips of the event started popping up on the internet, and she caught sight of a picture where, in the background, she could be seen talking with you.

Oh.

That's where this hollowness is coming from.

The bedroom was quiet, the only things she could hear if she strained her ears were the cars way down on the road outside and the faint drizzle that started falling.

It was so quiet, so calm, that for the first time, Jenna felt it. She felt the weight of the past months downing on her.

Jenna had been running on autopilot, so much so, that she became numb to a few of her own emotions. And maybe a few people too.

There was a sudden lump in her throat. Jenna sat up quickly on her bed, clawing at her chest because she couldn't breathe. She mumbled curses under her breath, vision instantly getting blurred as tears collected on the bottom lid of her eyes.

If this wasn't a panic attack, it was something very close to it.

Jenna scrambled for her phone and hastily typed your number on it, shaky fingers bringing the device to her ears.

She held onto her breath when the line started ringing; and when it rang for the last time, she was already sobbing.

"No, no, no," she stumbled out, trying again, "please pick up, please," the pleas fell out of her mouth with broken syllables.

Distantly, she knew she had it coming, she hadn't been fair with you, or with herself. You were Jenna's weakest point, if she had allowed herself to miss you, she'd drop everything to go back. So she bottled up the feeling.

But sooner or later, it would surface, and it hurts more than she thought it would — because maybe her decision had cost her you.

Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, with tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin — she felt alone, so excruciatingly alone.

Jenna didn't sleep that night.

—

For the months that followed, Jenna tried calling you multiple times.

You never answered.

—

It didn't take long for Wednesday to be renewed for season two. It also didn't take long for filming to start.

Jenna saw herself going back to staying in a foreign country for months in what felt like no time at all. But this time around she knew what to expect, how to prepare herself for it.

Or that's what she had hoped, because when she stepped foot on set, she was greeted with the sight of none other than you. You who was animatedly talking with Emma as you held a few papers in your hands; a script, Jenna presumed. A script that had Wednesday written on its cover.

Jenna halted on her steps immediately, sneakers scratching against the floor; the grip she had on her backpack tightening significantly. No amount of internal pep talks could ever prepare her for this.

Next thing she knew, Emma had caught sight of her and was walking in her direction with you hot on her tail. Jenna felt like curling into a ball to try and disappear — not because she didn't want to see you, but because of what she did last time it happened. Part of her knows she won't be able to face your rejection without breaking.

"Jenna, you're finally here," Emma pulled her friend into a hug. Jenna held her back promptly, grateful to have something to momentarily hold on to.

"Yeah," she breathed, "it was a- a long flight." She couldn't help the way her eyes darted to you. And you were so… blank, emotionless.

"Have you met our new cast member? This is Y/n." Emma happily gestured to you, taking a step back so Jenna could properly see you.

There was a heaviness in the air, more than a year's worth of bottled-up feelings just hanging on by a thin thread. Jenna gulped back the lump forming in her throat. It was longing and hurt and guilt altogether.

She had never felt this. Missing someone to the point of feeling like your chest is being ripped open, as if they're on the other side of the world even if, in reality, they're right in front of you — just a few inches forward and she'd touch you. Yet it feels impossible.

"Hi," was all Jenna could utter.

You nodded once, with a clenched jaw and crossed arms, "hi Jenna."

—

You were avoiding her.

And it was nothing short of torture.

You were avoiding Jenna, as much as two people who work together can avoid each other, but still, you were doing a terrific job. Jenna only caught glimpses of you when it was absolutely necessary.

She had this hole in her chest; it made her restless and anxious. It's been only a week and Jenna already feels like she can't take it anymore. She knows it's affecting her work; she's not able to focus the way she did before, she finds herself zoning out whilst looking at doorways and waiting for you to walk in — most of the time you never do.

Right now, Jenna is sitting in front of a mirror as she gets her hair done for the day. She arrived a little late today, her sleepless nights finally catching up to her right on a Tuesday morning.

The distant smell of hair spray still hung in the air, the bright lights around the mirror still hurt her sleepy eyes so she keeps them closed, enjoying the feeling of the hairdresser doing her braids. She paid no mind when she heard the door opening or when the chair beside hers creaked. Only opening her eyes when your voice greeted the other people in the room.

Jenna didn't dare breathe. She looked at you through the mirror, your gazes meeting for half a second before you averted yours.

Was it too bad that she already kinda felt like crying?

There was this painful tug on her heart whenever Jenna did see you. It felt like remembering all of your good memories all at once — and they mocked her, told her she'd never have anything like it again.

Distance is a strange concept. She feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world.

If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

You're looking everywhere except at her. It's almost bittersweet that Jenna can tell exactly just how nervous you are. Fidgeting on your seat, tapping your knee.

For a moment she wants to reach out and hold your hand, it used to calm you down, ground you.

She doesn't. Instead, she asks; "have you been enjoying the filming so far?" The words tasted strange on her tongue. Like they're all wrong and it's not what she should be saying to you when there's a ten-foot wall between you and her.

You hesitated, as if wondering if she was really talking to you. "Uh yeah, it's been a great experience so far," you said eventually, choosing to glance up at her through the mirror instead of turning your head to actually meet her gaze.

Jenna smiled, just a soft tilt of her lips.

Every minute that you weren't hers was a minute of pure agony.

And it was hardly the proper place for it, but with not knowing when she'd have the opportunity to speak with you again, Jenna took in a deep breath, and tried; "look, I- I've been meaning to apologi-"

"Not now, Jenna," you cut her off pretty quickly, drawing the attention of the few hairdressers around you. You cleared your throat; "we can talk about this later."

—

Ultimately, there was no 'later'. Jenna couldn't get a moment alone with you after that, and you made no effort either.

But when you love someone enough, you tend to make a few reckless decisions.

Jenna was staying in the same hotel as you, just a few doors away from yours, and she was a good actress.

It was late at night when you unlocked the door of your hotel room. You turned on the lights and instantly jumped back, almost tripping on your own feet; your soul leaving your body for a second.

"What the hell," you mumbled, with a hand over your erratic heart.

Jenna raised her hands and took a step back, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just me."

"How-" you gestured towards her, taking your backpack off your shoulder as the door clicked close behind you, "why-"

"Security let me in… I convinced them," she explained, a faint blush tainting her freckled cheeks as she felt strangely self-conscious under your gaze.

The hotel room wasn't big, quaint with its industrial-styled decorations and orange lighting; but with just the two of you occupying the space, it felt all kinds of intimate.

You scoffed, walking past her and to the bedroom without a second glance, "so much for security."

It hurt, way more than Jenna would care to admit. But part of her knew she brought it on herself. She followed after you, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie to hide the slight tremble of her fingers.

Your bedroom was even plainer than the main rooms. All your belongings are pushed to one side and filled only the lonely dresser by the ensuite bathroom door. It reminded Jenna of her own room.

She lazily brought her gaze back to you, her stomach twisting unpleasantly with apprehension; "I just wanted to talk."

Jenna's voice was small, uncharacteristically so, tugging at your heartstrings with each syllable.

This was just Jenna. No actress. No star. Just your Jenna.

You almost gave in right then and there.

But you had your back to her, fidgeting with the zipper on your bag to keep yourself busy. Her presence, her perfume, it filled the whole room, "now you want to talk?"

"I know, I was an- an awful friend to you," Jenna started, unable to stay still on her stance, "I know I should've called more and I'm so-" a sob broke through her voice, you were nothing but a blur in front of her.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," it was nothing but a whisper, said while Jenna hugged herself tightly, chasing some semblance of comfort that wasn't there. Her sudden vulnerability startled you.

You heard it loud and clear, it brought tears to your own eyes, even if you had promised you wouldn't cry anymore.

"That I was just something you had to deal with?" You finally turned to look at her then, and you strived to keep yourself impassive, because Jenna was far from okay.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears that were just a blink away from spilling over. She looked so small in the spacious room. "That's not true. Not what I meant."

"Well, that's what it felt like, okay?" Your months of hurting escaped you, "so I'm sorry I kept my promise and I'm sorry it crowded you but you-" you took in a shaky breath to steady yourself, glancing up at the ceiling then back at her, "you meant a lot to me, Jenna…"

It was all it took for Jenna to break, because she saw herself being back in that airport with your hands holding onto her so tightly — and she missed you, so unbelievably much. She could taste her own tears on her lips, the grip she had on herself was almost bruising as soft sobs shook her body; "You mean everything to me, you have to know that. And losing you…" she hesitated, as if fearing that saying the words out loud made them true, her lower lip wobbling, "there's nothing I regret more."

You almost didn't catch her words given the unsteadiness of her voice. It was too much for you and your bleeding heart. You couldn't physically bear to stay one second more away from her.

You walked closer slowly, tentatively, until you were able to embrace her to you.

Jenna buried herself into you, her tears soaking your shirt as you practically held most of her weight all on your own. She held you so strongly you almost had trouble breathing.

For a moment it was all that was needed, you and her holding what was left of each other together.

"I never meant for it to happen," Jenna whispered against you, damp lips grazing the skin on your shoulder, "I never- I was in a bad place and, after the f-filming for Wednesday wrapped up I got called for so many other things I didn't even have time to breathe." She curled herself onto you, her grip only tightening as if trying to merge you into her so you'd never part ways again.

You ran your hand up and down her back, leaving goosebumps on her skin and feeling your own tears trickling down your cheeks. There's no putting into words how much you're able to miss someone until you're holding them again. Until you can finally come home to each other.

For the first time in more than a year, you could breathe.

"I'm so tired," Jenna's small voice came again, tender, right beside your ear, "everything was so overwhelming, I- I felt so alone," she nuzzled her nose against your neck, and you wondered for a moment how long it's been since she allowed herself to receive any kind of comfort.

A beat passed until you were able to find your voice again, a little hoarse and unsteady; "you could've told me, I would've been there, Jenna. You know I would've done anything and more to help you."

With a sniff, Jenna finally pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, "I know," she pursed her lips, one hand coming up to brush at her cheek, damp with tear tracks — testimonies of her wounded heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

With your silence, Jenna kept going, if anything, out of desperation; "I'm so sorry, please I- you must know I never meant for it to go like that."

Teardrops clung to her eyelashes too, eyes shining brightly under the dim lights of the bedroom and her nose a little red. Oh, how you missed her.

You gently raised your hands to her cheeks, your thumbs brushing away a few tiny tears that still escaped her. "It's okay," you breathed.

"Please don't leave me," she mumbled, a soft sob cutting through.

"Not leaving," you promised, leaning up to kiss her forehead, "I'd never leave you."

When her eyes found yours again, Jenna stumbled forward out of instinct, her nose bumping yours.

You closed the gap with the encouragement you knew she needed, "you know I'm never capable of staying mad at you for too long," you chuckled, your lips grazing hers. You were home.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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