#i think that can be included in the hopeless romantic category

[respectthepetty]

Dunk and Joong could have offered me anything in 2024, and I would have taken it, gladly, no questions because my ass is a Jaidee fan first and a human second. But to hand me The Heart Killers? Oh! Let me list all the reasons y'all gonna hate me when this comes out.

Joong plays Khao's older brother

Khaotung is older than Joong, but in BL Land that doesn't matter because Khao is playing the hopeless romantic little brother while Joong is playing his stern older brother. Someone already wrote it was 10 Things I Hate About You/The Taming of the Shrew, and Shakespeare would be thrilled to know one of his masterpieces is getting the queer treatment and it's not Twelfth Night.

Dunk is playing the crazy seducer

Boy wants a car and is willing to go to great lengths to do it, including distracting some dude, so his buddy can play house with that dude's little brother. But the whole point is they had to find a guy who was crazy enough to accept the offer in the first place >insert Dunk's character< so the guy isn't just wanting the car. He is doing this for the thrill of getting tied up, stripped down, and threatened.

And I respect that.

Jojo is apparently directing

I wanna have beef with Jojo after Only Friends, then I look at his resume and remember this is the man who gave me puppy play in The Warp Effect, poly in 3 Will Be Free, and a chaotic stripper named Judo in Dirty Laundry PLUS the YinWar trailer for their Partner in Crime concert which has now lead to YinWar doing Jack & Joker, so as a vegetarian, I'm gonna be like Elsa and let that go.

Which means Rath is probably the cinematographer

I don't give men compliments easily, so when I state that Cinematographer Rath has never disappointed me, I mean it. The man knows what he is doing, and if he is in on this series, I know if anything, it will be visually stunning.

First and Khao being the Beyonce of GMMTV

I'm in Jaidee's corner always, but I have eyes and First and Khao could really do whatever they want and I'd eat it up. I have believed them with whomever they have been partnered with in the past, and if they want to play high schoolers in an oppressed school system or a banker willing to see his ex and his ex's new man just to flirt with the boy from the market, I'm buying the tickets, I'm sitting in the front row, and I'm holding up homemade posters. Basically, I'm shutting the fuck up and experiencing whatever they want me to experience.

First and Khao tears

This is its own category because when they cry, they are in a league of their own. They claimed this series was going to be lighter than their previous work, but what is a First or Khao series without tears? I hope they are drinking water right now because someone is crying in this series, and JD's faces are already wet for other reasons.

DUNK'S BODY!

Not to objectify the man's body, but . . . it's a banger, and he has been done dirty by wardrobe for two solid years. His face card never declines. His arms are solid. His waist is snatched. His hair is perfect. Even Tay, New, and Jan were talking about him in the BTS for Peaceful Property because they were saying how New's character was based off of Dunk - pretty, fashionable, and COCKY! But wouldn't we all be that cocky if we were walking around looking like this?! Like shut up fives. A ten is speaking!

It's high time that man got to stunt like Force always does just taking off his shirt for no reason. Good for him. And good for us.

Oh, yeah, and the plot

Sorry, I mean the plot.

SHIT, THE PLOT!

You know what? Nah. I honestly do not give a fuck about the plot. Joong and Khao are hired killers. First is out to get them. Dunk gets involved (although, I think he knows a lot more than he leads on), and . . .

All will end well.

Because if anything, Jojo ain't never been allergic to a happy ending *wink*

So just know this show hit its target audience

ME!

¡Salud!

#the heart killers #gmmtv 2024 #joongdunk #firstkhao #this was meant for me! #rath and jojo save me! #give me chaos and visuals #I'll take whatever you give me #I'm still gotta talk smack about everything else #but I'll be quieter about it

[mikareo]

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; geto x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode two ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.1k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ it's not a hot-girl summer

⊹ ⠀⠀ geto suguru was having such a great day...until you knock on his door at 6:00pm begging for help with your boy troubles.

contains; geto suguru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

geto thinks this is the first time ever, that the two of you have been within six feet of each other without gojo around to make conversation...and it's weird. he didn't even know that you knew where he lived, let alone would come knocking on his door right before he was about to leave to get some korean barbecue chicken. he's barely moved in yet, with the summer coming to a close as campus begins to open up again, and you're surprisingly the first familiar face he's been able to see. yippee, lucky him. man, he really wants some honey garlic chicken, right now.

it's not that he doesn't like you. he thinks you're fine. you're normal. you don't cause any trouble unless you're with gojo, and you might be more similar to geto than one may think— but hanging out with you has never really been a thing. the only notable thing that you do have in common is gojo; and unfortunately, that's the very reason why you're here.

"satoru made a hinge profile." you sigh.

who cares?

"okay? he's satoru, that's not unusual." geto assumes this conversation will be a waste of time, but he wants to hear you out. he's nice like that. "is there a bigger issue?"

the look in your eyes tell him that there is, and within the ten seconds he takes to gaze at them, he finds himself lost. just for a moment, he's standing on a cliffside, gazing out at the open sea, with a sunset of colors painted before him. he's understanding your emotions from a painter's point of view, noticing each blended shade watercolored onto your irises with gentle brush strokes. there's loneliness, hopelessness, helplessness...and most significantly...there's love.

"you're in love with him, aren't you?"

without thinking, he moves aside to give you space to enter his room. he knows that this conversation will be difficult for you and wants to give you the privacy to vent in quiet; after all, it's the least he can do.

"how are you in love with satoru? he's like a walking std." geto thought you were the one girl who wasn't in love with his best friend. it seems he was wrong. "there's a ton of other guys on campus to go out with. why don't you do that thing people talk about online...the...what is it? hot girl summer?"

you groan and hug his pillow to your chest. when did you get on his bed? "i don't want a hot girl summer anymore, geto."

"i want a satoru summer."

that sounds like something out of his nightmares. the thought of gojo invading his every day and shadowing him from the sun is almost nausea inducing— however, geto didn't let you into his safe space to judge you. he let you in so he could listen.

"i'm just so tired of watching every other girl go on dates with him, it's not fair! why does he want them? none of them actually know him. they don't know his favorite stores or how he likes his eggs cooked! they don't see the face he makes when he's actually upset, and they definitely can't tell the difference between his fake upset look and his real upset look! i know him better than anyone— including you— and i don't understand why he doesn't love me like i love him! —and now this new class of freshmen girls get to have him? no! it's like he doesn't even see me as an option, he just looks through me. i don't exist in any romantic category in his brain, it's bullshit."

as your tears soak his favorite throw pillow, geto takes a moment to piece together everything you cried. with the voice cracks and small sobs, it was difficult for him to follow along, but he believes he understands the main point. you love gojo. gojo doesn't love you. simple.

geto would be lying to say that gojo's just a coward and actually does want you back. he knows firsthand that his best friend has never ever mentioned you in any romantic way. to gojo, you're just another best friend that he can rely on when he's being an absolute dick— which is a shitty situation for your sake, but you deal with it anyways just as geto does.

"y'know what i think?" he leans against his bed frame, gently tilting your head up to look at him. "i think that he might not be right for you. i mean, if you feel like he doesn't see you, he's not the one."

you bite your lip, struggling to hold in your tears. "but he is. i know he is. i need to be better for him."

now that's just not right.

"no." his hand is caressing your face. the position is very intimate and if anyone walked in they'd definitely assume you're a couple, but geto isn't aware of that. he just wants to make sure that you're going to be okay. "you shouldn't have to change yourself for satoru of all people—"

"but i do need to!" the volume of your voice surprises him, causing him to jolt back and let go of your cheek. "i just need more experience to be the kind of woman he likes. i need to actually put myself out there, i mean, i never do that. obviously he isn't going to like me if i don't even know how to flirt." you don't know how to flirt?

"you're joking right?"

"why would i be joking?"

"you seriously can't get a guy?"

"...i don't want to answer that."

ohmygod.

"alright," geto clears his throat and sighs the deepest sigh in his entire life, "i'm going to do you a favor and take you on some dates for practice. nothing more than that; just a few dinners, maybe some coffee shops, and if you're lucky i'll even throw in a bookstore or two. nothing romantic, though. i just want to be a good friend."

there's a small smile creeping on your lips. "are you serious?"

it's kind of cute. "dead serious."

and suddenly your arms are around him and geto thinks he might lose consciousness with the lack of oxygen he's getting. you give good hugs.

"thank you! thank you!" you're excited again and he's happy to make you laugh. your crying face was too much for him to handle. you don't deserve to feel sad, you're too sweet for that. "i'm so excited! i can't wait!"

what has he gotten himself into...

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

#i.e. seasons of love #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅ my writing #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto hc #geto fanfic #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto fluff #geto angst #geto fanfiction #geto ff #geto hcs #geto drabble #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk hc #jjk hcs #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[aloev3rathings]

i have more headcanons, and stuff I might include in my fic Aloe Vera, but this time, HUNTLOW EDITION!

1. hunter isn’t totally ignorant, he has had some exposure to media and books, so he has an idea of what romance entails but never really gave it much thought before bc he just assumed he would be too busy, just isn’t in the cards for him, he didn’t have anything to offer (moreso post-leaving the EC),etc. however that changes after ASIAS. at first, hunter thought he was just feeling great admiration for Willow and how skilled she was with plant magic, flyer derby and how confident she is, and absolutely 100% deserving of her Captain ranking despite aligning herself with wild witches. it takes a while and actually getting to know her for his initial feelings to develop into full-on crush mode, and when he finally happens he’s thrown off kilter bc he’s like “when in Titan’s name did THIS happen??” hunter is so used to having people in neat little boxes in his head (ally, friend, enemy, etc.) that he’s utterly discombobulated when he realize that Willow is not only existing in almost every category, but also exists in one entirely on her own. she also happens to be very pretty, he’s not stupid, hunter has eyes. he could be physically attracted to someone but he was mostly ‘ehhhhh’ about it bc you know, GG stuff, but when he was Caleb with the Entrails, he had a taste for more, and Willow is certainly someone he wants to get to know more.

2. on Willow’s part, she liked Hunter as a friend right away, and initially after ASIAS, she fancied a bit she might be able to convince him to change sides, bc clearly this boy isn’t all bad, just caught between a rock and a hard place with family obligations and pressure (which reminded her way too much of Amity and she reminded herself that she’s not a child anymore, she can now fight back to keep her friends; in her mind she’s not gonna make the mistake of backing down twice) and not only was he her friend, he was smart, awkwardly funny in a deadpan accidental kind of way, clearly skilled in fighting, and a natural in flyer derby, and he reminds her so much of Luz and Amity and Gus that being friends with him just felt like a forgone conclusion.

3. Willow’s feelings developed from a place of protection; once she heard of what Hunter experienced in EC, she was. fucking distraught. not that she’d let anyone know that, but that meant his life was in even more danger during the time she got to know him up until they reunited at the Hexside rebellion. bc how could she even hope to be the witch she wanted to be if she couldn’t protect those she cares about? and while she knows Hunter is perfectly capable, knowing how talented and skilled he is but still having gone through so much pain just made her remember how alone and hopeless she felt back as “half-a-witch” willow.

4. it’s not until hunter reveals even more of his background (I’d imagine when he finally reveals his grimwalker heritage) she’s made up her mind to protect Hunter, no matter what, for as long as they both shall live. the intensity and conviction of this thought hit her like a ton of bricks as soon as she thought it. she wants this boy in her life for the long haul, endless nights and texts with him talking about everything and nothing is proof enough for her, and the ease in which they want to protect each other. but the intensity of these thoughts is what surprises her bc while she’d feel the same feelings about her friends, the happiness and relief she feels when she thinks about hunter engulfs her from her head to her toes, her heart on fire, and considering her strength in magic is so heavily tied to her emotions, once she realizes “oh my Titan, I LIKE HIM-LIKE HIM.” every plant within a two mile radius of her person blooms at once.

5. after Hunter realizes his feelings for Willow are romantic in nature, he’s like “what now?” so he defaults to his usual past time regarding all his problems: research. he finds himself spending A LOT of free time at bonesborough’s library when he’s not reading into any of his other interests. he’s fully embarrassed to loiter near the young adult/teen section, considering how many people are usually there, and he keeps turning around and going back and forth enough times that Amity, who has been watching him this entire time, takes pity on him and suggests books that could actually help once he stutters out his reasons (“look, the emperor’s coven left me isolated, im hopeless when it comes to relating to and socializing with people, and it seems like relationships are tied in with that, ok??”). Amity is really kind of smug about this development, and eventually she sits down with him and says, “you like Willow, don’t you?”

6. because honestly? she can’t blame him one bit. and Amity could tell from the get-go that Hunter had some level of interest in Willow, but obvs they had other things going on at the time. and pre-labyrinth runners Amity would’ve been hissing and spitting and threatening Hunter with a shovel talk for even thinking he could pull one over and steal Willow away, but now she has seen how hard he has been working on his friendship with Willow, and he honestly cares about her as a person. and sure, maybe his awkward blush moments remind amity waaaaay too much of herself before she and Luz started dating, and damn it, she’s a much better person than who she was a year ago, so she’s gonna help this dude bc hunter has like, -5 game.

7. so she helps him out, drawing on her own experiences with dating Luz, telling him about stuff Willow likes. even sharing a few stories from her childhood friendship with Willow, even though it’s a little painful bc Hunter is finding out about all these happy memories in a positive context, while Amity still feels so much regret when she thinks about them. as their friendship grows, Amity becomes the one Hunter comes to first with any relationship insecurities and problems once Hunter and Willow actually start dating. also “amity it’s just not enough to get her flowers, I have to get her the BEST FLOWERS. AMITY HELP.” (he is so lucky he has grown on her and she loves Willow and Luz so much, the hopeless idiot).

8. confessions? Hunter does make the first move, much to everyone’s shock, but Willow triggered it. Willow and Hunter stay behind after flyer derby practice one day, just lazily sitting on their staffs watching the sunset and stars start to peak out. Hunter is rambling about how star placements are really similar to the human realm and his theories on how two different realms of existence could potentially share the same sky, and willow is just watching and listening with such fondness that it just slips out when he takes a breath before rambling on, “i like you so much”. it’s when he’s gaping at her in shock, his face blotchy and red to his ears does she realizing what she’s said, she squeaks and covers her red face in her hands, wishing the Titan would rise and swallow her whole. he floats over, gently removes her hands from her face, steels his nerves to kiss her on the cheek before pulling back, eyes wide and terrified, asking if she’d like to go out with him. the grudgby field below them immediately bursts into wildflowers. willow doesn’t notice bc she’s beaming and launches herself into hunter’s arms mid air exclaiming yes. Do they almost fall? yes but it’s okay.

10. this is a joke, but at the owl house, Luz’s shipping sense are tingling. she stares out the window, and after a beat, pumps her fist in the air, hissing “yes.” king is like “weh??” and she just smiles, “you’ll get it when you’re older.” Eda is staring at Luz like she’s nuts.

#the owl house #huntlow #aloe’s talking to the void #aloe’s writing fanfics again #headcanons

[kscribbs]

For the fanfic asks: 😅, 😈, 🤡, 🍦, 💖 and 🤲🏼 (plz 🥹)

TYSM for the Qs, Dani! 🥰

What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

Soooo many, omg. I've been writing since I was around twelve/thirteen? And some of those early works -- oof. 😅 Up until a few years ago my first ever fic was still available to read on ff.net. It was... charmingly bad.

The original draft of ML has its moments too, I'll admit. Things that I am SO glad I changed/re-structured.

Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Mayyybbeeee. >:) I knew what I was doing when I went straight from the scrying cliffhanger into a twelve year time-skip. I was a little worried about it being TOO jarring, in all honesty. Twelve years is a long time, after all. But hopefully that isn't the case!

There are a few scenes coming up in ML that I think may fall into this category, also.

What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

(Excerpt from the lil' Christmassy one shot I mentioned a while back. Set several months prior to the events of ML):

What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

The Forgiven is pretty sweet! But ofc, the themes are somewhat... intense. Same goes for ML. I think the latter takes the cake in terms of sweetness, however. Given the romantic tones, later on. Not to mention all the familial fluff! Something something Winter/Jack/Blaise hug on the steps of Frost Manor... (There is an overabundance of hugs, which makes me, personally, very happy!)

What made you start writing?

Honestly? A desire to escape reality. I know that sounds a bit gloomy, but it's the truth. Whenever life got just a little too stressful/intense my natural inclination was to withdraw to the written word/the multiple fantasy worlds existing inside my head. I found it therapeutic! And continue to do so.

Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

For the longest time I couldn't decide which snip to include. Two stood out to me, and in the end I just said "fuck it, I'll post both", lmao. I dunno when I'm going to be able to get the next chapter of ML up (soon, hopefully, but life happens!) and I've been looking for an opportunity to share some write-y stuff. I think it's safe to say that I've plumbed the depths of that opportunity here -- apologies! 😂

(Lengthy -- and ever-so-slightly spoiler-y -- excerpts from ML under the cut!)

‘Is that really necessary, lady?’

‘Every detail counts, Council Member Cupid. Even that which might seem negligible on the face of it can lead to deeper truths. In any case, when you opened the door, Dr. Miller, there was no one there?’

‘No. No one.’

‘You didn’t even see a silhouette? A retreating shadow?’

‘…I’m sorry, no.’

‘No matter. How heavy would you say the footsteps were?’

Lucy frowned. She’d never thought of that before. 

‘Fairly heavy,’ she answered, after several seconds. ‘Heavier than Jack’s, now that I think about it.’

‘Oh, well, thank you,’ Jack said, sounding rather flattered. ‘My secret is jazz-ice-size. Like jazzercise, but on skates. Very trimming.’

Ms Delaney noted this down. (The footsteps thing, not the “jazz-ice-size”). ‘You then stepped out into the corridor, and saw… what, exactly?’

Lucy described the detonator, the explosion, the retreat into what she now knew to be her mindscape. Coming to and finding the tunnel all-but collapsed.

‘Hm. And you were trapped there… how long, would you say? Before your brother — Charlie, is it? Yes, Charlie — came to your aid?’

Lucy’s knee was bouncing anxiously now, her palms clammy inside her gloves. She could feel her heart-rate beginning to climb, as she was plunged back into the darkness and claustrophobia of that night. Into the feeling of complete hopelessness, and the stomach-turning reality that she might die like that — frightened and in pain, struggling for breath. Somehow the memory still had the capacity to wound her, even after all these years, its remnants buried in the folds of her mind like broken glass beneath a shallow layer of earth.

‘F— ahem. Four hours, I think.’

Beside her, Scott released a slow breath. Lucy didn’t dare look at him, or any of the other Council Members. She disliked the sympathy and guilt mentions of the attack tended to garner. People suffered far worse, after all.

‘Give-give or take,’ she added, when the silence stretched on. ‘It’s all a bit of a blur now. Charlie just had this… sense, that something was wrong. And when he tried to call and I didn’t answer, he came looking. Took me to the hospital. I was fine.’

The image of her brother’s panic-stricken face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind. Having managed to dislodge the worst of the wreckage he’d eventually shimmied his way through a narrow ingress to the place where Lucy’d lain — half-conscious and terrified.

‘Shh, it’s all right,’ he’d murmured, pulling her to his chest, one hand questing through her hair for the source of the blood she hadn’t felt trickling down the side of her face. ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe now, Squirt. I won’t let anything happen to you…’ 

Only then had Lucy allowed herself a moment of frailty, collapsing against him in a fit of muffled sobs. Which had turned to panicked gasps, which had turned to—

She cleared her throat, banishing the memory hastily. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack’s long fingers twitch in her direction, and for the briefest of moments she thought he intended to take her hand beneath the table. …But no. He curled them into a tight fist at his side.

---

The room was dim, the muted glow of early morning falling across the walls like a running watercolour.

‘Look sharp, Frost,' Melusine whispered, dropping a copy of the New York Times onto his lap. ‘The two of you made the front page.’

After some difficulty Jack succeeded in freeing his arm (which was now decidedly numb) from where it had been wedged between Lucy and the sofa cushions, taking enormous care not to jostle her too much. Her hair — still a little curly from the humidity of the tunnel — slipped over her face, the light from Widener's Orb threading through it like pale fingers.

Doing his utmost to appear unmoved as she nestled further into his chest, and not at all like he was turning to slush on the inside, he picked up the newspaper, straightening it with a flourish. Sure enough, there, on the cover, was what looked like a bystander’s photograph of the spectacle in Times Square.

Jack grimaced, his gaze moving from the fifteen-foot wall of ice, to the ten-or-more car pile-up, to the startled faces of his and Lucy’s likenesses, and back again. 

He swore under his breath. 

‘It’s not the only one, I’m afraid,’ said Melusine, leaning forward to turn the page. ‘There’s a special feature. Look.’

He was greeted by two images: One of the mangled subway car, twisted and smouldering where it lay lengthways across the tracks, and a close-up of he and Lucy running hand-in-hand through the urgent press of commuters/NYPD officers, Lucy shooting a jet of scarlet light (an immobilising jinx, it looked like) over her shoulder. 

“Senseless Social Media Stunt or Signs of the Supernatural? You Decide,” the headline read, in large, spidery typography. 

“Do sorcerers live among us? How about superheroes? Or, indeed, supervillains? The answer might surprise you!

"Yesterday afternoon Manhattanites bore witness to a rather unusual -- and highly destructive -- chain of events, involving a nameless man (40s?) and woman (30s?), as well as a mysterious cloaked individual, who were captured from multiple angles using what appear to be magical wands/staffs (yes, really!) to wreak havoc in Bryant Park Station on W 42nd. As well as summoning ice and snow from thin air in the middle of Times Square! Elsa who?"

‘Shit,’ Jack said softly, rubbing his chin. ‘That’s… definitely not ideal.’

‘Mm.’

‘...They might’ve at least captured my good side.'

‘Is that really the thing to be focusing on right now, Jack? You don't think there might be more pressing issues at hand?'

#thanks again for the Qs!! ☺️☺️ #anyone reading pls feel free to send more in! Although ofc no pressure! #I know it often takes me awhile to answer (I'm sorry!) but they are rather a lot of fun to do :D #(in this case the delay was bc the first snip was much longer and needed significant editing #and then I realised tht it contained a HUGE spoiler and cut it in half lol #so I needn't have poured over it for so long but AH WELL) #writing #ask box games #ML #Miller's Law #tsc #the Santa Clause #Jack Frost #Lucy Miller #adult!Lucy Miller #out of context those excerpts are going to make v little sense but I kind of like that 😂

[thewhiskersonkittens]

It's been over a week since I saw it and I still can't stop thinking about the Barbie movie. It's like I'm still in shock. No one cares but I will write out my full thoughts here under the cut.

PROS

Like everyone says, I 100% agree on the set design of Barbie Land and the costumes. They did a fantastic job! I expect they will win some awards for those categories.

I like most of the soundtrack although there's probably about three artists on it I actually know. (I feel old.)

Ryan Gosling. To me, he had the best performance out of the whole cast. Ironically, in a movie literally called "Barbie", I found myself caring for Ken more. I think that is a testament to just how good of an actor Gosling is. They butchered Ken's character (just like they did Barbie's) and wrote a really half-ass script but Gosling STILL delivered.

Weird Barbie. I'm not much of a Kate McKinnon fan but I think she did really well. I love this concept of a "weird Barbie" because it's so true to life. Of course there would be a Barbie some little girl messed up! 😂

Speaking of "old", my favorite scene was the one with Barbie on the bench next to the elderly woman. I think this movie's message could have easily been about ageism more than tHe pAtRiaRcHy...

CONS

The biggest issue for me is what they did to Barbie and Ken's relationship. They are one of the most famous couples of all time, albeit a fictional one, but I just wanted them to be in love and kiss. 😭 I'm a hopeless romantic. I am tired of the idea that a Strong Female Character™ can't have a romantic relationship with a man because it makes her "weak" or "not as cool". One thing they could have done is say of course Barbie doesn't need Ken. But she chooses Ken because she loves him. She DOES love him. (IDC what Gerwig or Robbie says. They got it wrong.)

The plot(s) are all over the place! I can't remember but I don't even think the mother-daughter part of the story even got resolved or if it did it was done in like two seconds?! I don't remember, by then, I was getting bored and restless.

There was no point to Will Ferrell and the Mattel CEOs. After the chase scene, I completely forgot about them until they randomly reappeared at the end. I'm inclined to think they were only included to be a red herring for when they cut the trailers for the movie.

I didn't like how they named everyone else "Barbie" and "Ken" in Barbie Land (Aside from Alan and Midge). I get they are saying everyone can be a Barbie or a Ken no matter what you look like. But did they not know about all the characters in Barbie's world? Skipper, Courtney, Kelly (a.k.a. Chelsea), Stacie, Christie, Francie, etc? Just seems lazy IMO.

"The Message". Don't tell me "yOu jUsT diDn't GEt iT!!!" 😑 Oh, I got "the message", all right. IDK how anyone can watch this movie and not "get it" when they might as well beat you over the head with a goddamn sledgehammer. When I was a kid, I had a Life Size Barbie. Why don't you get one of those and write "FeMiNISm!!!" all over her body, take her by the heels, wind her up like a baseball bat and beat me to death for two hours?! In hindsight, it would have saved me time and money for sure.

If you liked this aspect of the movie, all the power to ya. You are allowed to like whatever you want to like. But everyone acting like this shit was so deep and profound... ??? I'm sorry, are you kidding me?! It's about as deep as a kiddie pool. I think there are rain puddles out there deeper than this.

They could have gone about the women's empowerment message in a much better way and a lot more subtle and a lot less hateful.

Which brings me to my next point about what I didn't like.

IDK what this movie was trying to be? It had some funny moments but most of the humour was corny and flat. I've been craving an unapologetically girlie, "chick-flick" movie for a long, long time now. The kind they used to make 15-20 years ago or so. Think "Legally Blonde", "Clueless" or "13 Going on 30". Or think even further back to the 80's with "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" or "Teen Witch". What better movie to make a return to that kind of genre than with a live action ✨BARBIE✨ movie? She is the epitome of girlie-ness and femininity. But I guess that's too "problematic" now or something.

Why did only Ken sing? Don't get me wrong, he did great, but does it seem weird to anyone else why he was the only one? It seems kind of random IMO. Why didn't Barbie sing a solo? I have no idea if Robbie can sing or not but still. Again, what is this movie trying to be? It could have worked as a musical but it wasn't.... but they threw in a Ken song and dance number out of left field?

And lastly,

Margot Robbie. I HATE to say this, really I do. Because I really like her as an actress. I had so much faith and hope in her with this role. I thought she was a MUCH better choice for Barbie than Amy Schumer ever was!

Robbie looks the part of Barbie to a T. She's beautiful. But as the movie went on, I felt like she wasn't giving Barbie anymore. At least not Barbie in the way I imagine the character. It feels like she was playing a completely different character. Barbie in this movie never really helps anyone but herself. Barbie is not supposed to be an emotional manipulator but here, she is.

It's not Robbie's fault because Gerwig didn't write her character correctly. Same thing with Ken. He's a himbo, for sure, but he's not supposed to be some pathetic simp. I feel like both Robbie and Gosling were kind of wasted. They are both so talented but their characters were not written right.

So, all and all, if I had to rate the movie I'd give it a 5/10. I feel like they got some things right, some things they could have done much better, and some things they just shouldn't have done at all.

This is all just my honest thoughts and opinions. If you enjoyed the movie, I certainly don't want to take that away from you. I'm a huge fan of Barbie and I left the theater incredibly disappointed by the final product and I was SO excited for this.

#barbie 2023 #barbie spoilers #i hope we can still be friends #barbie

[buffporcupine]

tell me abt kiyomi fellow Canada loather

why hello there 😋 it’s infodumping o’ clock ig ‼️

tws for death, abuse, descriptions of gore, all that

Kiyomi is an OC I’ve had for at least two years. She’s taken on several different forms and her design has changed a whole lot but she’s one of my favorite OCs!!

Her full name is Kiyomi Itō, and she’s this seventeen year old girl from Kyoto, Japan. Her mother was French-Canadian and her father was Japanese. She can speak Japanese, French, and English, and she learned them in the order they are listed.

Okay, the backstory stuff might be a bit confusing because I’m not good with the wording and this is actually the first time I’ve ever written out everything.

Kiyomi has a younger sister named Shoko who was five years younger than her. Kiyomi also had an older half-brother named Akira who is six years older than her. Kiyomi’s mother was named Sakura, and Kiyomi’s father was named Jin.

When she was a kid, her father was both abusive to her, her younger sister, and her mother. He had had an affair that resulted in the birth of Kiyomi’s half-brother, Akira. Akira’s mother’s identity is unknown. Jin, had a deep-seated hatred for his wife and his daughters, and he tried to teach Akira to hate them as well. This didn’t work though, and after deceiving his father, Akira was able to help his sisters run away. Their mother, though, died at Jin’s hand, and Jin was arrested and incarcerated. After running away, Akira, Kiyomi, and Shoko fled across the world to Canada to go live with their maternal aunt and uncle. By that time, Akira was an adult and he could have been able to keep living at the Ito residence, but taking care of Shoko and Kiyomi would be too difficult without assistance.

The move to Canada was when Kiyomi was fourteen. Now, she has graduated from high school and she’s studying for a degree in psychology. She also spends a lot of time with Akira and his wife, Aurelia.

Kiyomi’s interests include, but are not limited to, psychology, toxicology, entomology, and other things. She really enjoys watching children’s television shows, or reading books about bugs, or watching the night sky. She’s fascinated by activity most consider ‘childish’, and she’s very open and curious about new things. She isn’f very informed though, and she doesn’t get social cues very easy.

She’s fascinated by cute things, and she really likes to look nice. She puts a lot of effort into her appearance, and she prefers scene and grunge dress styles. She’s very naturally attractive as well, but she does wear lots of makeup.

Below are some drawings I’ve made of her. She’s really fun to draw. The first drawing is in my style, the second is in the DRV3 style.

She’s also a bit like a punching bag OC, a bit of a Mary-Sue, but I don’t like to think of her as those.

She’s also schizophrenic, and she’s largely ashamed of that fact. She likes to hide it as much as she can, and she never mentions it to anyone that isn’t EXTREMELY close to her. She’s also got a bit of a fear of abandonment, and she fears that it was her fault what happened to her when she was a child.

She started out as a Danganronpa OC, for a Fangan I had been working on, but now she’s her own sort of character for now. I have the information necessary to insert her into any universe, like Death Note, Stranger Things, etc.. Now she’s just fandomless, and I have enough lore about her to give her her own category.

Below is some useless trivia about her.

She’s allergic to a lot of things, she loves strawberries, she has an obsession with MCR, and she hates it when people try to look smart when they really don’t know what they’re talking about.

She’s actually really short, like five feet and four inches tall. It’s mostly because of stunted growth due to childhood malnutrition.

She’s also a hopeless romantic!! She loves romance novels and movies. She’s very open-minded about who she wants to date, though, and she just hopes it’ll be someone nice and sweet.

There’s the end of the useless trivia.

Now, she spends most of her time studying, helping Shoko study, or spending time taking care of Aurelia. Aurelia is a former secretary turned housewife, well, she was, and then she got diagnosed with this really nasty degenerative neurological condition, and sort of just became a shell of who she used to be.. Yk? So Kiyomi also has to help Akira take care of his kids as a result of Aurelia’s absence.

Kiyomi is honestly living her best life, actually. And at a different, later point in her story, she meets her perfect partner!! I just packed her with trauma so bad I had to make up for it by giving her a happy adult life. Her and Aurelia also have like.. a super cute relationship, so there.

Kiyomi is my CHILD, definitely one of my favorite OCs. I have at least 100 OCs, though, so.. I have a lot of favorites, too.

Maybe I should make more posts about Shoko, Akira, or Aurelia sometime?? I dunno.

Thank you if you read this.

#buffporcupine’s ocs #buffporcupine #buffporcupine talks

[sophiajosephe]

Meanwhile I am still a god damn hopeless romantic so cry with me over Kyo’s looks and Yuki in general.

#original #me #furuba #fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #furuba spoilers #i know Yuki loves her like a mom #its amazing #i think that can be included in the hopeless romantic category #its about deep emotions and bonds damn it #also i was a kyo stan from day 1

[autisticgayngel]

Canonverse Castiel-centric/pining/loving Cas fics

some of these are Dean's POV and a lot are alternating POV, but all of them really delve into Cas's emotions and his love for Dean. All canonverse and all happy endings. Categorised by post-confession, pre-s15 curtain fic and other canon-era. Descending word count within each category. If anyone has any recs for things I should add lmk!

Post-Confession Fics

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles 28k rating E

Everyone has recced this, and for good reason, it's stunning. Cas gets back from the empty and Dean sort of lets him down gently and is very worried about breaking his heart. Despite this Cas is finally able to express to Dean how much he loves him and takes full advantage of this. He's earnest and sweet and so intense about it, but also incredibly hurt about the lack of reciprocation, though he tries to hide it. He does get the love he deserves in the end and it's so good!

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe 18k rating E

Again, Dean's POV, but very much focused on how much Cas loves him. Has the gorgeous Cas line: “When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you rest. When you are dirty, you bathe. But what are you supposed to do with love?”

My unintended by DeanaWinchester, Jeanne_de_Valois 10k rating E

Really good Cas POV, he’s obsessive and insecure but also deeply loving.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere 10k rating T

The empty torments Cas with visions of Dean and of the family he longs to have with Dean. Dean saves him.

I said show me something by ilovehowyouletmefall 7k rating E

Sparked by the debate about whether or not Dean thinks Cas can feel. Cas is hurt by Dean saying he thought he couldn't feel and vulcan mind melds to show him exactly how he feels about him. It's a really interesting exploration of both of their feelings and fears.

Gift by thisisapaige 2k rating G

Very sweet little fic of them trying to work things out once Cas returns from the empty.

Pre-s15 Curtain Fics

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden 95k rating E

Dean tries to retire with his family but finds himself alone as Sam and Jack take a road trip and Cas goes hunting in order to prove he's still useful as a human and to avoid thinking about his feelings for Dean. Really agonising and harrowing at the start as they both feel so rejected and miserable. Cas gets into situations where monsters use his feelings for Dean to attack him. Eventually, they're able to tentatively work out their feelings and settle down together and it's very sweet.

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose 26k rating E

Dean and Cas retire together. Cas becomes a beekeeper and Dean starts to use the honey he makes to bake goods, which they sell at the farmer's market. Cas is very much in love with Dean but it takes Dean a bit longer to work things out.

Other Canon-era

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow 64k rating T

This one hurts a lot, so fair warning for that. Cas falls ill while human and homeless and is hospitalised. Dean finds the journal Cas kept as he struggled to survive in this time. Pre-Destiel but Cas does write a lot about his feelings for Dean. Sam and Dean shower Cas with love and kindess as he recovers. Also a destiel epilogue that is very sweet and fluffy.

In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) 57k rating E

Cas confesses his love to Dean post s11 finale but the timing is terrible and Dean is very repressed about it all and breaks Cas's heart. Cas gets an Italian man of letters boyfriend in an attempt to get over it and Dean is insanely jealous (which Cas is oblivious to) but they all have to work together to try to save Sam from the BMOL. Dean eventually gets his shit together and treats Cas the way Cas has learnt to understand he deserves.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) 28k rating E

This is very much Dean's POV but I'm putting it here anyway because it has a really intense love confession from Cas, which I'll include an excerpt of that drives me insane:

'“I listen to your music, and I close my eyes. I try to imagine I’m in the Impala, hunting with you. And, sometimes,” his throat jumped, “I lay on your bed. I think about what it would be like if I got to have a place on it beside you... If you ever let me get close enough.”'

Kelp!I Need Somebody by andimeantittosting (Saylee) 27k rating E

A really sweet fic in which Sam, Dean and Cas go to investigate a case on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. Switching POV with really good mutual pining as they tentatively begin to realise the other feels the same.

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous 26k rating E

Set early s4, Cas has to possess Dean temporarily. While doing this, he has to work to hide his feelings from Dean. Cas is already obsessed with Dean and in love with him but is embarrassed by it and struggles to keep Dean from seeing all of this, especially when Dean wants to have sex with someone while Cas is possessing him.

Après by imogenbynight 24k rating E

Set after the angels fall in s8. Cas falls to earth in Paris and realises he's in love with Dean. Dean comes to get him and they find love together in Paris.

desiderium, lost by atlasian 20k rating T

Castiel confesses his love for Dean and Dean tells him to move on. Cas tries, fairly unsuccessfully, before Dean gets it together.

No Other Worthy Quest by MajorEnglishEsquire 15k rating E

Cas just loves Dean very much.

'“For fuck's sake,” his skin is heating. Cas can feel it. “Stop saying lovey-dovey shit.”

“I know,” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s so mortifying for you when I want to tell you I love you. I’m using all my self-restraint, I promise not to embarrass you.”'

The Arrow by jscribbles 12k rating T

Valentine's day and Cas has been hit by a Cupid's arrow and is literally sick with love for Dean.

and all this devotion by dothraki_shieldmaiden 10k rating M

Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Cas takes care of him in a cabin. Very sweet, delightful Cas POV of him being very much in love.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits 10k rating E

Cas struggles to work out why Dean deems some things meaningful and some things worthless, and where he fits into this apparent dichotomy. Really gorgeous and agonising Cas POV that deals with their constant issue of Dean just wanting Cas to stay and Cas wanting Dean to want him to stay but they're both too afraid to express it.

Breathe by turningthepages 9k rating G

Dean and Cas platonically sleep together to help with Dean's sleep. Cas both likes the situation and longs for it to mean more.

First Date by aeli_kindara 9k rating T

Dean asks Cas on a date and they're both trying very hard to make it all work. The sequel is stunning too.

'Dean says, “We should do that. Go on a date.”

Something in Castiel’s chest fuzzes, like static on a TV, and stops.'

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden 9k rating M

After 15x3 The Rupture, Cas goes back to Rexford. While there, he thinks about how Dean hurt him all those years ago and how he hurt him more recently. Partly a 9x6 Heaven Can Wait fanfic-gap fic.

Let it Linger by OmniscientOranges 8k rating M

Cas starts sleeping with men out of jealousy when watching Dean pick up women at bars. The way the fic describes how in love he is and how hopeless he feels about it is both agonising and very sweet.

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire 8k rating M

Cas plays up injuries so that Dean will coddle him. Self-woobification from the Angel of the Lord and it's so sweet!

Something to Protect by Sass_Master 6k rating G

Cas tries to work out how to make Dean feel less unsafe so that he no longer has to jolt awake. Sweet, tentative intimacy and Cas enjoying it so much.

lonely hearts. by outpastthemoat 5k rating G

Deals with Cas accompanying Sam and Dean on hunts and feeling incredibly lonely and longing to be with Dean. He finds solace in romance novels.

Some People Would Call This Romantic by almaasi 5k rating G

Human Cas goes to the beach and finds it rather overwhelming. Taking a romantic walk with Dean along the beach is also overwhelming.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood 4k rating T

Really sweet! Cas and Eileen talk and gossip about Sam and Dean in the bunker at night over tea.

A Place to Rest by Inessencedivided 3k rating G

Dean and Cas talk through things after the Stuck in the Middle with You love confession. Cas cries some more.

White Noise by domesticadventures 2k rating G

Cas struggles with feelings of worthlessness in the aftermath of Lucifer's possession.

Receipts by surlybobbies 1k rating G

Cas writes little notes about how much he loves Dean on receipts from meals they share together. Dean finds them.

#fic rec #destiel fic #fanfic #spn #destiel #pining cas #fic

[cuntess-carmilla]

hi, i’m really sorry for asking such a weird and potentially hard to answer question, but. how do you know when you’re a lesbian? i identified strongly as bisexual for multiple years, but i realized my attraction to men was tenuous at best and even now i have no idea if it’s genuine? i kinda feel like im going insane

There's many reasons why a woman could feel tension regarding their (potential) attraction to men, even cishet ones, but TO ME these things boil down to what makes you happy and to what/who you desire.

(I acknowledge that for all women who like men, but especially bi and trans ones, being able to accept an active desire for men can be complicated because of trauma, slut shaming type of sentiments, biphobia and transmisogyny, so do take that into account when exploring your feelings.)

What I would have to ask myself is, do I actively desire men? Because I feel that I actively desire women, that's unquestionable to me (that being unquestionable while being uncertain about men doesn't necessarily make someone not bi but it happens to a lot of unrealized lesbians). I have always felt that natural pull towards women/girls even when I was a little girl and it wasn't sexual at all. Even when I'm in the mood to be alone or when my sex drive is dead I feel that active desire. When I think of A Sexy Human, I think of a woman, always, in the diversity that encompasses women. As a little kid, when I thought of a pretty human, I also thought of girls only.

But men? Nope. Even when I find one attractive, I still don't want him. At my "happiest" being with men I felt like "this is tolerable and if I pretend we're just friends I actually like being with him", and at worst it felt like overwhelming death. It took me a long time to realize that even as a kid I never considered boys as belonging to the category of "pretty" or "cute" or even interesting tbh like I decidedly did with girls. At most I saw them as a girly status object like the Disney princesses I was obsessed with had their princes as an accessory in my eyes.

Maybe this isn't at all like your experience, and in that case that doesn't mean anything in either direction, both bi and lesbian experiences are tremendously diverse, but MY exeprience when I was still identifying as bi is that I would find myself always performing. Always checking in silently with my female peers to see what was it that they found attractive in guys so I could mirror them. I was always a sensible but hopeless romantic, so as a kid whenever I felt lonely and wanted to fall in love I would scan around coldly to see if there was any boy I could "decide" to have a crush on.

Back in the days before the Tumblr porn ban I had a nsfw sideblog that was just reblogs. When I wasn't policing myself I would end up only reblogging women and sapphic sex, or shots of cishet sex in which the man was cropped out. Then I'd catch myself doing that, I'd panic out of my ass, and forced myself to find stuff with men to reblog so I could keep desperately telling myself that I was not a lesbian. This happened as I was dating a man long term. I would have to train myself to find men attractive, including them. Which is not how it's supposed to work. Sex with them felt a little like sleeping with a dildo attached to a mannequin. I was in it either out of pressure or for the physical sensations, that's it. A toy could've done the same and better.

Attraction is an active desire and when you're attracted to someone it's not supposed to feel like you're tolerating being with them, you're supposed to feel joy and comfort even if it's not always perfect.

It can happen that with some men it has felt like a chore you're tolerating without that necessarily meaning you're not bi because comp het is a bitch and it affects ALL women, but if being with Men like, As A Whole, feels that way... You're probably not bi.

Try to think; if you were free of all expectations, both yours and other people's, who would you want? If there weren't labels for any of this, if there were no consequences for either option, if you could have the life that'd make you happiest and feel the most authentic, who could you see yourself with? Not necessarily like, married, but just enjoying romance and/or (if you're old enough) sex with, be it serious or uncommitted.

Whatever turns out to be, don't rush yourself, love. No community or label owns you. Labels are descriptors and we exist before them. We're not meant to make ourselves fit labels, the labels are supposed to fit or not fit us. If you have to spend a while without a label more specific than "gay", "queer", "sapphic", "wlw" or what have you, that's fine. If you spend the rest of your life like that, that's okay too as long as you're okay with it. There's no time limit. Feel free to explore however you feel safest and most comfortable, and don't be afraid of your feelings. They're not wrong, they just are, whichever they are.

I hope this was helpful, feel free to keep sending me messages if you want to.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”  

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.  

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”  

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.  

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.  

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.  

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing.  “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #reid series #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid angst #angst #h2m

[lorei-writes]

Abuse in Fiction

I think I spoke of a related issue once already, but well, I do not mind repeating myself. In a way, I even enjoy it, I suppose. It’s mildly personal this time too, hm.

So, as some of you may know, I am of a strong belief that fiction should not be hopeless and that it is easy to write a story full of despair - and harder to undo all the harm that’s been done. However, I am also of belief that... My views never matter more than that of another person, and that we are all entitled to our own stances, morals and opinions, for at least as long as we do not enforce those on others. (For the record here, I do not consider hatred an opinion or standard of any type; another distinction that needs to be made: facts are not opinions).

As such, the following will be my opinions, and nothing more. Whether you agree with them or disagree - this is yours, not mine. I do not aim to convince anybody to see the world the way I do.

Well, where do I even start? One step at a time, I suppose.

Bad people do good things. & Good people do bad things.

You need knowledge to realise what is abusive.

Themes of abuse are not inherently harmful.

Gatekeeping requires proof.

What can I do?

A little bit personal something.

Bad people do good things & Good people do bad things

As alluring as it may be, the world cannot be split in neat categories of pure goodness and pure evil. What makes a person good? What makes them bad? Is the good one that who does not harm others? It is generally the definition of goodness I go by, and yet - it is not absolute.

What I’m trying to say is that, to try and split people into good-bad categories based on a single action is... Not really productive. It may be an error. It may be a result of something you are not aware of. And, yes, it may turn out they are indeed not a “good person”, whichever definition you go by - but it also may not.

We are talking about fiction here, however. Not killing, not abusing somebody yourself, but an act of writing about it. If it is tagged appropriately - then who is being hurt? If it is tagged, the person who read it consented to it in the first place. They could have withdrawn. If it is not tagged... Then, it brings me to my second point.

You need knowledge to realise what is abusive.

I would love to see a world in which every single person is educated and capable of recognising different forms of abuse. However, we do not live in such a world. We live in one where access to sex education is still limited in plenty places, where access to mental health services may be restricted, where mental illness is sometimes still a cultural taboo, where humans are being trafficked, abused in all form, dehumanised, enslaved, all to the benefit of rich countries. We do not live in an ideal world, so to require people to act in ideal ways? I consider it ludicrous.

Plenty cultures around the world glamourise abuse - or so it is at least in Europe. What books are best-sellers? 50 Shades of Grey. 365 Days was somewhat big too. If a person cannot get education from a reliable source, if the culture perpetuates the belief that a form of abuse is not in fact abusive, or what is arguably worse, is well-deserved, then how will they know it is in fact hurtful?

You must realise that, even for victims of abuse, it may take decades to learn why they were hurting, to realise that something was in fact wrong. You must realise those people may include themes of abuse in their work thinking that this is how it just is.

Is it perpetuating the harmful norm? It is.

But are they doing it consciously? Or is it the by-product of their culture? And if so, is it their fault?

Is ostracising them and calling them morally wrong doing anything to counter the hurtful norm? Do we need to abandon a topic completely, as some approaches to it may be hurtful? Or do we need to deconstruct it? To realise what beliefs linger behind the words?

Themes of abuse are not inherently harmful.

Abuse victims do not always get their feelings validated. Not only that, they may lack a safe space to share their experiences in any form at all. Fiction provides such an outlet.

Are all depictions of abuse good? Well, of course, no. Romanticising abuse justifies it. It normalises it. We should strive not to ever include such a thing in a work. Many hurtful beliefs can be transferred through fiction - “abuse made them stronger”, “abuse made them kinder”, “once abused will turn into the abuser”, “if you were abused, you do not have a choice but to abuse”, “a parent and child always have some magical bond tying them together”. The list goes on and on. Some people use it as a shock factor, something that does not have any lasting and realistic influence over the characters - and that, in my opinion, is disrespectful.

However, if one were to ban abuse from fiction, they would have to cut out all the scenes calling out abuse for what it is. They would have to cut out hopeful stories, to take away from what may lead somebody to realise they are not treated appropriately. People learn through stories too - and some use fiction to process the issues they faced.

Gatekeeping requires proof.

As you might have noticed, I spoke about how themes of abuse resonate with abuse survivors themselves. Of course, some will not need it. Some will avoid the topic completely.

But, the question is: so perhaps, only abuse survivors should be entitled to writing about abuse?

Well... No. First, it requires proof. Then, it would require some sort of grading system - and that by itself is so dehumanising and humiliating I do not think I have to explain it. Also, the fact that somebody survived abuse does not mean they worked through all the toxicity it brought upon them and that they are capable of not repeating the hurtful messages.

Some people survived abuse and they are not aware of it. Does it make them a bad, hideous person if they include themes of what they considered normal in their work? Or perhaps they do not view it as ordinary, but cannot see a reflection of that in their own situation? Are they morally detestable? Or are they a victim?

What can I do?

Does it mean you should approve all depictions of abuse in fiction? No. Absolutely not, never. It means you should be critical about it, and that stigmatising people does not solve the issue.

Be critical of what you read.

Educate yourself on what is and what is not abusive.

If your friend (or a person you feel comfortable pointing it out to) made something toxic seem romantic/normal - tell them. (It can be a rather emotional discussion, so really, make sure you can handle it).

Do your best not to romanticise abuse in your own work.

If you do choose to write about abuse, make sure to label it clearly.

If it is a NSFW type of content, and the characters are acting out a scenario - show that it is a scenario played out between two consenting adults, and that it can and it will end the moment one of them opts out. If it is not consensual and was not meant to be consensual, show it for what it is - abuse.

Educate yourself, and if possible others, on what is and is not appropriate.

And, if you interacted with a piece of media that bothered you personally:

Block the author of it. Do not interact with the rest of their work.

If it is not labelled appropriately, do tell your friends of it. Warn them.

If you enjoy other works by the author and still want to follow them - ask them to label abuse. They may do it, they may not do it. Decide whether you still want to follow them afterwards.

A little bit personal something.

Content Warnings: discussion of abuse, domestic abuse, suicide mentions, self-harm, rape

Well, I never hid the fact that I lived through domestic abuse. There are authors in our fandom whose works I avoid specifically because of their poor handling of themes of abuse at the hands of a parent.

It took me 15 years to find words to describe my pain. I did not know I was abused for the majority of the time it happened. It was my reality - it was just how the world functioned. Did it spill into my early writing? Yes. But not in the ways you would have expected. My characters were not abusive themselves. They idealised suicide. They would hurt themselves, although not with blades or anything of the like - and at the time, I did not know it was self-harm either. In the plot, they were being abused, and they would come out of it victorious.

I am comfortable saying this. But somebody may not be. They may not know yet.

This post was sparked by a person calling people who write rape “sick in the head” (ugh, stigmatisation of mentally ill people aside, at least this time, okay?). I do not condone romanticising rape. It is disgusting, as any form of abuse. I blocked authors who did not label it and thus exposed me to sensitive content without my consent. I did not go through it and I do not wish for anybody to go through it. However, the post lacked this sort of nuance. It was about the entirety of it, however it was handled.

I do not know why somebody writes it. I do not think I have the right to demand an answer to that. I do not have the right to decide who was hurt “bad enough” (as if something like so existed in the first place) to touch the subject.

I also do not want to stigmatise people who did not get proper education on the matter. How many of them were raped and did not know that lack of consent equals rape? How many of them realised or will realise it after years? How many were failed by their education system, were victims to the times they were born in, to the culture?

Because, remember, to plenty people rape is something that happens in the black alley, at hands of a stranger. Not something done by their partner, when they hope to just get done with the thing and move on - after all, it happened to them. And said partner is not a bad person, so how could he do something bad?

I cannot say whether a person is processing something. I cannot say whether a person consumed so much of modern popular media and lacks knowledge and experience necessary to understand that scenes depicted in it are in fact ABUSE. Sometimes I am near stating that media almost conditions us to accept some forms of abuse as normal.

What I can say is that, well, if you make writing about one type of abuse a taboo, another one may follow.

I do not think this approach answers the problem of why do multiple people, across different fandoms and countries, perceive something abusive as “not that bad”, even bordering appropriate. I do not think that stigmatising the people who write such things is going to change much. It will certainly not target the ones who need education.

And well, it removes the opportunities to critically approach the matter. I know it is hard. But people need to understand why certain narrative choices are harmful and hurtful, not just be presented with “writing about abuse is evil”. We still need spaces to safely discuss abuse.

People need to understand why something is bad, not just label it as bad and be done with it.

#lorei spoke

[parvuls]

i tried to headcanon about sex and ended up with 1.5k words of commentfic

warning: nsfw discussion. also warning: i like to discuss my headcanons in writing even if no one cares.

as you know (and if not, seriously, what r u even doing here) i am obsessed with the boys' first summer. and once i started envisioning the delightful awkward chaos that are their first times, i also tried to make sense of their sexual development timeline.

THE FACTS:

huddle 3 (spoiler!) contains an anal scene that apparently takes place at providence during their first summer

bitty only visited providence once that summer

for no more than a week

after having seen jack in person only once (1) since the graduation kiss.

so obviously, i told myself -- here are the two options: a) huddles are not canon, and ngozi inserted that scene during the summer for no particular reason [but then why mention its timing at all?]. or, b) the boys moved far faster than i would otherwise headcanon for them.

but, ALSO FACTS:

bitty has no sexual or romantic experience

jack's sexual experience with men is limited at worst and just a really long time ago at best

they're both disgusting hopeless romantics who are exactly the type of couple to be into shit like candlelight and rose petals and freakin' elvis crooning in the background (can you tell i'm not a romantic person in my personal sex life? do people still listen to elvis?)

and, just to push this post further into the nsfw category, MORE FACTS:

anal sex is such a delicate, elaborate process

i am a sucker for the realistic!sex trope

it's like totally not exaggerated to have sex three or four times a day the first week you're in a relationship. especially if you've been waiting to be alone together for two months. and are young and horny.

so this leaves us with heacanon A (huddle is not canon compliant) and heacanon B (huddle is canon).

HEADCANON A:

they 'kiss a bunch and shit' in madison (thanks lardo!). they also tentatively make it to third base (i mean, i did say they were horny). i covered this bit in fic.

i personally do not believe in the skype sex headcanon pre-year 3 because i think they'd be too awkward for it before actually having had enough sex (it is, in fact, pretty awkward), but more power to anyone who does. i definitely believe there was some suggestive texting between july 4th and providence. both boys blushed like tomatoes during this.

i'd say providence started from where they left off (frottage and handjobs) and slowly developed into a lot of oral from both parties (their love for this act also features in huddle 3). if this was a typical college first relationship i'd say they lingered at this stage for longer, but because they had a week straight of private time and also knew they'd be doing long distance, there was probably a bit of really tentative fingering thrown there towards the end of the week. maybe intercrural, although i wonder which one of them would think of it at that stage.

ha, now i'm thinking about bitty waking jack up on his 25th birthday and throwing out some super cheesy line about giving him a birthday present, red-faced but determined, and then trying to go down on him for the first time. i'm now also thinking about it being a total flawed mess. i'm sorry, i can't help the realistic kink!!!

anyway. then there's year 3. i kinda feel like they were securely intimate before thanksgiving and coming out to smh, so they probably tried anal sometime between august and november during one of bitty's visits. maybe even relatively early on (again, horny and doing long distance). mid-september, maybe? the french flashcards weekend was september 13rd, that totally checks out.

personally, i always headcanon it as a complete disaster. to get more detailed, i think bitty would insist on bottoming the first time (lbh, bitty comes from a pretty biased background and probably didn't have a lot of in depth conversations about 'roles' in gay sex before, and also probably feels like he's got something to 'prove' as a gay man), but he's a nervous wreck and just the stretching hurts a lot more than he thought it would because he can't relax, and it hurting means he definitely can't relax, and jack's shaking because, well, bitty, but also because bitty doesn't seem to be enjoying himself and this wasn't what jack wanted -- but bitty's insisting he doesn't want to stop. anyway, jack tries to do it but just the first penetration hurts bitty too much and they break it off and then there's, like, three hours of cuddling and petting and really honest, intense conversation and some super intimate mutual handjobs at the end. but no anal. they'll get there.

if we're even more detailed, i think they get there first with jack bottoming. he's (probably) done it before, knows what to expect, is a lot calmer with bitty being in control of the pace. it goes great. there are candles and rose petals and elvis and they stare meaningfully into each other's eyes. you get the gist.

next time (a few weeks later? bitty's next visit?) they try bitty bottoming again. they go a lot slower. there's a lot more laughter and the fingering part takes, like, an hour and a half. bitty's having a great time. jack is having a great time (taking care! of bitty! who's enjoying himself! it's the best). the sex itself is a little stop and go but ultimately great.

then there's skype sex. poor chowder across the hall. i hope they've got good soundproofing.

'but!' you say, if any of you read all the way to this part, 'what about huddle 3???'. well --

HEADCANON B

everything goes pretty much the same except a lot faster, and so a lot more awkwardly and with a lot more talking thrown in (these boys talk. a lot. and if they want to get from zero sex ever to anal in a week, they'll have to be very very open and honest. also, the sex itself is probably a little less technically good than headcanon A because they don't really know each other's bodies, but it's just as intimate and emotional and fun).

so let's say they have five days together (august 2-6). first day is making out against the front door (they missed each other, okay?) and the frottage and handjobs as previously mentioned. multiple times, probably. when bitty gets there; after dinner; before sleep (plus, first blowjob - jack takes his time worshipping bitty); in the middle of the night (bitty wakes up and jack is pressed up against him and --).

second day is jack's birthday and bitty's first time giving a blowjob, as detailed in A4. they probably do birthday stuff around town during the day and bitty attempts oral once again sometime in the evening (this time it's much smoother). when they go to bed that night bitty takes a deep breath and tells jack that he wants to try 'full sex'. it's a little because it's jack's birthday and bitty thinks it'd be romantic, and a lot because he's unsure of when they'll see each other next and wants to try it before school and the hockey season fill their calendars. jack is wide-eyed and fumbly and tries to simultaneously say that any sex is full sex (thanks shitty!) and that they don't have to go so fast and also convey that he totally, totally wants to do that with bitty but he just wants it to be really good. most of it comes out as: "ah... uhhh???" and a lot of blinking.

but they do try it. it goes as detailed above in A6, i.e. not well. afterwards, there's the same amount of cuddling and talking deep into the night and they both emerge from that experience a lot more confident in each other and in their bodies around each other.

on the third day jack wakes up before bitty and lies there staring at the ceiling and thinking, and when bitty wakes up groggy and cute jack says, in his best hockey captain voice, "we should try it the other way around", less like he's suggesting a sexual act and more like he's thinking of a hockey strategy. good thing bitty really likes him just the way he is. they do that, and it goes as described in A7, i.e. pretty damn well. it makes them feel super clingy and in love for the rest of the day and there's more frottage against the kitchen counter after bitty feeds jack pie and that night bitty tries bottoming again. we've established that it goes much better that time.

and, finally, on the fourth day they have the huddle 3 sex scene (it includes rimming). its tone would have to shift a little to fit in this timeline but i really did my best here.

on the fifth day there's sleepy morning groping and then oral in the shower and then the drive back to samwell. they're happy. they're in love. they're gonna get married (not now, but i just felt like mentioning it). they're gonna get much better at the whole sex thing that year.

the skype sex still takes awhile. and it’s definitely bitty’s idea. that boy knows his way around a camera.

:)

#zimbits #omgcp #omgcheckplease #man i'm starting to think it's weird that i've been writing fic for eight years and i've never written smut until a few months ago. #apparently i have a lot to say about sex???? #pavfics #maybe??? #headcanon #text #check please!

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

dying in UA (Shinsou Hitoshi X Reader)

GAH ANGST... >.< Dunno why I’m in that kinda mood... waaaaaah this made me so sad because I put in some of my own personal feelings in this one too... SO... That’s a warning! For intrusive thoughts and references to depression so... Reader Discretion is Advised...

I’m gonna make maybe two more parts to this... I have to! I have a plan... 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW3axr0o0wY

Summary: Shinsou’s going to be in the Hero Course starting his second year, which was great until he remembered that he’s not the only one with big dreams. 

Hell is trying so hard to get what you want.

And Hell is the place Shinsou felt that he was born into. For the longest time he’s wanted to be a hero, and yet when he was 5 years old that’s when he discovered that his quirk lets him control people just by talking to them. He could make them do whatever he wanted them to do, or rather, it was limited, but still.

He can control people, and so naturally, that made him more like a villain than a hero. He’s heard it all before.

So naturally, that made me more like a villain than a hero. I’ve heard it all before. 

“Your quirk is more like a villain’s quirk.”

“Wow so you can make people do anything you want them huh?”

“Please don’t try anything weird on me okay?”

Stupid ignorant assholes. He would show them all that they were wrong about him, about his quirk. His dream was, no, it still is to be a hero. No his quirk isn’t flashy, but he knows how to use it well, shouldn’t that be all that matters? Why does everything have to fit in a damn category?

He doesn’t know. That’s why he’s stood alone most of the time. No one understood, and frankly he didn’t have time for people. He never really liked them much anyway, not after what they’ve said to him. He doesn’t necessarily hate people, but he would rather not be around many.

Some people call it a lonely life, but he’s used to being alone. He’s used to just sometimes staying home, bored and all alone with nothing but these pretentious thoughts of his. Sometimes just lying in bed and not feeling motivated enough to get out of bed or change his pajama pants.

Tonight, this was one of those moments as he had fallen into a fitful sleep just thinking too much about everything, his life, how he somehow made it into UA and for a moment, he actually thought that his dream had come true. Until he remembered that while he made it into the Hero Course, there were 21 other students here that wanted exactly what he wanted to. Every one of them wanted the same dream, and then he spent the rest of the night thinking, “What the hell am I going to do?”

Aizawa was a fantastic teacher and mentor, but how could Shinsou compete with everyone else here? What if Aizawa training him wasn’t a guarantee? What if all this time he was just fooling himself into thinking that this wasn’t going to work? The moment he stepped into this class it became clear to him, he’s just another kid with big dreams.

There was nothing special about him at all. He knew it, and the darkness in his mind knew it too, and always reminded him whenever he thought about it, whether he was awake, or asleep. 

“If it’s all too much… just keep sleeping…”

“I can’t sleep forever… just go away… I don’t need you to bother me…”

“I’m not going away anytime sugar… I’m a part of you…”

“Why can I stop… feeling this way…?”

“Hero. Villain. Does it really matter?”

“No… Nothing matters…”

“That’s right dear… Nothing matters at all…”

His eyebrows furrowed as he had fallen asleep, having a mental battle with the weight of hopelessness, misery and insecurities falling on top of him, pushing him to the ground until he lied on his back to just keep sleeping. No, he didn’t want to sleep…

Shinsou didn’t even realize that he was tossing and turning in his sleep until he felt a cool hand on his forehead and something soft on his cheek as he cracked his eyes open. “Mmm… Hito… what happened? What’s the matter? What’s the matter…?” You asked with a groggy yet somewhat frantic voice when you felt him thrashing about in his sleep again while you had cuddled up to him.

Suddenly he remembered that he wasn’t alone.

“Nothing…” Now he felt guilty, yet relieved that he had woken up, he hated it whenever he dreamt about his own troubled thoughts and depression literally weighing him down, and he still couldn’t move where he lied. It felt as if he was… trapped.

He felt trapped.

“Oh Hitoshi…” You cuddled up to him, putting your hand on his chest to steady him, feeling rather sad when you could practically feel his sadness. Aura Creation was a great quirk, for the most part, because it let you construct things out of your emotions as long as you could channel them, but at the same time it also let you experience the emotions of others which was very distracting sometimes and as a result you were highly sensitive to your own feelings and others.

Including your poor boyfriend, who swallowed his emotions and kept them bottled up that you teared up and let one slip from your closed eyes the second you touched him.

“There’s a dark fog in your brain…” You mumbled softly as you felt him sigh.

“There’s always a dark fog in my brain.” He replied somewhat sardonically as you wryly chuckled.

“That ain’t good…” Your tone was just as dry as you hugged him close, “Darling… I don’t think this… I know this… you’re way too hard on yourself…” Was all you could bring yourself to say, as Shinsou paid attention, even if he was lost in his thoughts, brain still feeling trapped.

“I know. I can’t stop… I hate it… I can’t even move. I just feel… trapped…” Shinsou might have sounded vague, but you completely understood him and nodded into his chest, “So do I ya know? Feels like while I’m here now… what after? Will it matter? I wonder… I mean… everyone here… is better than me. I know they are…” You thought outloud with a sad tone, and for a moment that lulled Shinsou out of the trap for just a moment.

He could not stand seeing or hearing you sound sad, for once he shifted a little bit where he lied to make sure you were okay, “Yeah… I get it… I really do.” Shinsou stopped thinking about himself for a minute, because while he was selfish by nature and was used to putting himself first, ever since he met you and fell in love with you, it changed a little bit. He wanted to put you first, because you loved him, you actually made him feel loved.

Even in these times where he was starting to realize just how terrible he was. And of course, you also apparently had the same thoughts, you thought YOU were terrible too. Maybe that’s what drew you to him, and maybe that’s what drew him to you.

You both hated yourselves, and yet you loved each other. What a beautifully ironic fucked up romantic couple the two of you were.

“Dammit… sorry… I made it about myself… I’m sorry Toshi…” You immediately apologized for being insensitive but Shinsou quickly shook his head, “No don’t be…” Honestly, he was kinda glad you made it about you because he didn’t want it to be about him, sometimes even he got tired about thinking of himself.

“But I wanted to say that… I know you’re not okay… but it’s okay that you’re not okay… it’s okay to feel like this sometimes… but I don’t want you to think it’s okay to feel like nothing matters, like you don’t matter because… you do…” You sat up a bit, (E/C) eyes finally meeting his lavender ones, which had been looking duller lately.

“It’s so hard to believe that sometimes…” He admitted with a soft, resigned tone as you nodded, “It really is… I know it is… when everyone else makes ya feel that way too… but you’re here Hitoshi. You’re a hero… more than anyone else is… you’re my hero.” You gave him a little smile, resting your head into his shoulder as you didn’t even see his lips quiver a little bit.

“So mushy gushy…” He forced himself to chuckle as he wiped his eyes when his eyes threatened to make tears as you laughed softly and kissed him softly on the lips, “You love it~.” Using a light-hearted tone you smiled up at him and made him chuckle and laugh, “I don’t love your breath right now…”

“Yes you do~.” He was so teasing you but you just kept playing around just to make him feel a little less bad, and it was working, Shinsou put his arms around you and remembered that while he still felt trapped where he was, that maybe it would get better because you were here with him. And maybe he really would be the hero you said he was.

“I just wanna sleep…” Now he really did want to go sleep now, hopefully have a better dream after he talked a little bit with you and relaxed his troubled heart for tonight. “So do I… Brendon Urie lullaby?” You suggested with a little tilt of your head and he couldn’t say no to that. He loved Brendon, and that man knew how to do everything, make someone dance, make someone sing, and make someone sleep with his sensual, incredible voice.

“Perfect…” He didn’t hesitate to get his phone and put a song on for the two of you to listen to and fall asleep to. A tearjerker, but Shinsou thought it was one of his best songs because of the painful realities and the way Brendon sounded so melancholic complete with the sad, dulcet sound of the piano.

“The moment you arrived they built you up The sun was in your eyes You couldn't believe it Riches all around, you're walking Stars are on the ground You start to believe it…”

Shinsou quietly sang the song, and you quickly joined him because neither of you couldn’t not sing a song by Brendon. Especially not this one even if it was sad, it was catchy too. A song the two of you could relate to, especially in a school like UA and the two of you just wanted to be heroes. It was something that allowed the two of you to really connect and bond the way you did.

“Every face along the boulevard is a dreamer just like you You looked at death in a tarot card and you saw what you had to do…

It was something that allowed the two of you to fall in love because you understood each other.

“But nobody knows you now When you're dying in LA And nobody owes you now When you're dying in LA… When you're dying in LA… When you're dying in LA…”

You could listen to Shinsou singing forever, he had a lovely voice and it was enough to lull you to sleep as your voice grew groggy as you sang with him. Thinking about UA, and how it was both the best and the worst. The worst because not everyone here was amazing, they were some good and some shitty people here, but it was the best also because you and Shinsou went to school here together to work together and fall in love the way you had.

Shinsou certainly thought so, this place really was the best and the worst. You were the best though, to him you were the best and you thought he was the best too. You made him feel like he really was going to be a hero, and he made you feel that you were worth something, that you mattered and that you could be a hero too.

“The power, the power, the power Oh the power, the power, the power Of LA…”

As the song came to an end, Shinsou looked at your peaceful face as you had fallen asleep. You were the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and finally fell into more of a serene slumber without any of his intrusive thoughts coming back to haunt him after you saved him from them for the night.

And when the morning eventually came, you and Shinsou kept your eyes closed and kept holding each other to bask in the tranquility, listening to the birds chirping outside.

#shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #Shinsō Hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi x reader #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou x reader #mha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader angst #angst #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader angst #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader angst #shinsou x you #Panic! at the Disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie #dying in la #depression #depression kitty #shinsou hitoshi angst #shinsou angst #mental health

[stoopsbookstore]

Rebel!Yunho Kink Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

The perfect boy ever. He doesn't care of Hongjoong is telling him to kick you out, Yunho is making damn sure you feel good after a round.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His arms. Yunho will break the rule of "wear a coat when you ride a bike" just to flex on everyone else.

His favorite body part on you is your breasts/chest. He likes them in low-cut shirts and it's an added bonus if you can distract the opposing driver.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Yunho loves seeing your thighs and ass covered in his cum, but he refuses to admit that

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He dreams of fucking you in front of the other 7 members of the ATEEZ gang. Being ordered to fuck you is a turn-on for him and he's not sure why. He just knows he wants an audience.

And not a dirty secret, but a rather cute one.

Yunho already bought a ring for you and is planning on proposing to you after a win against their rivals ONEUS and ONEWE.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's not experienced, but he's not inexperienced. He's fooled around with people, they've been amazed and disappointed. He could use a few pointers, but for the most part Yunho knows what to do.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Anything where you are sitting on his lap. It's more so a category of what position he likes rather than one specific positon.

Yunho likes any position where he can see your ass or your chest depending on what way you're facing.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Definitely goofy. He's like the comic relief of the gang, so he is for sure more silly than serious. But nothing beats him being romantic.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

There's no drapes to match the curtains, thank you very much!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He knows how much sex can mean to someone, so if it's not a quickie, he is the type to lay out a blanket under the stars, LED candles let, some Marvin Gaye playing in the background.

Jeong Yunho is a hopeless romantic in any AU, let's be honest.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He meets with you three days a week, so he jacks off 4 times a week. He will send you a video though, not to tease you, just to remind you what you're missing by being a goodie two-shoes.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Being filmed

Exhibitionism

Fucking on a motorcycle

Slight Dom, but not really into power play

Leather, you can wear it, he can wear it, just someone wear it

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His motorcycle

There's this little hill that overlooks the town, but no one knows how to get to it except Yunho, so he'll take you up there through his secret path and have a sweet picnic set up, a laptop with a movie and maybe definitely some netflix and chill later.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Everything you do turns him on, but more the best is when you wave the flag at a race, he thinks you look the best you've ever looked when you raise your arms in the air and drag the flag down. The aderline that goes through his system is at his peak right there.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

For some reason, rival gangs keep wanting to use you as a betting chip and Yunho says no everytime. You're not a prize to be won and you already decided you want to be with him, so why the fuck even try?

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He slurps too much, but other than that, he's quite good. He does prefer receiving over giving, so don't be too expectant of him reciprocating.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what he's feeling that day. If he had just won, you best believe it's going to be sensual sort of night, he'll feel like he's on the top of the world

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't mind them, but he prefers actually getting to spend time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yunho loves taking risks. He is the type to let you drive Betty for a little bit while his hands are on your hips, clawing at the flesh.

As for experimenting, he likes what he likes, why change that?

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

2 rounds, 30-60 minutes each. Nothing too short, but also nothing too crazy. He's average when it comes to stamnia.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He does keep a bullet vibrator in his inside jacket pocket for you if you're feeling a bit adventurous. Yunho will pull it out, turn it on and press it against you in a matter of seconds of being away from other people.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Another member of "No teasing" club. He likes it, but when he has just won a race, Yunho will full on just grab your head and pull you in for a makeout session in front of everyone. Maybe some light groping and ass grabbing here or there, but he's not much on teasing.

He will share videos though, Yunho loves being filmed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's like mid-volume, not too loud, not too quiet, his voice is just sort of there. He does like to groan a lot though, and you best believe you are getting a lot of praise.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Yunho wants to fuck you on his motorcycle. Licking, biting and scratching, both of you getting off on his prized "Betty." He can get off on that image alone.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

God blessed this boy. 6 and a half inches and thick. You're the envy of everyone at the race track because you get to be dicked down by Yunho.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Every day if he could, but he can't due to your parents being super strict, so he will take the 3 times a week and cherish that shit.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It only takes about 15, 20 minutes for him to fall asleep. Yunho loves to tangle his long limbs around you, essentially trapping you in his arms as he sleeps.

#jeong yunho #yunho #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez au #rebel!yunho #full kink alphabet #my writings

[longformautie]

Addressing sexism of autistic men

CW: gender-based violence, including murder and rape

I. Introduction

This post has been coming for a long time. And I mean a LONG time. My thoughts on this topic have been evolving constantly. They will probably evolve even after I post this. I am still learning and welcome feedback.

I was prompted to write this post during the pre-coronavirus Before Times, when I saw that the popular Facebook page Humans Of New York had profiled an autistic man who had become a pickup artist. For context, pickup artists are a group of straight men who will cynically do whatever it takes to get them laid, which of course means blatantly ignoring the needs of the women they interact with, and who share strategies with one another. The autistic man in the photo post talked about how before he was a pickup artist he was hopeless with women, and now he was getting girls - getting laid, even. He said he knew it was manipulative, but that it was only fair - after all, it’s not like anyone had ever sympathized with him for his social difficulties. I was curious about what people had to say in the comments section; turns out, I wasn’t satisfied by any of the takes I found.

The takes I didn’t like can be broken down into two categories. Category number one were formulations like “poor him, he just wants to be accepted.” I’m not even a little bit sympathetic to this take and will only be spending a moment on it. Suffice it to say, it’s hard to take these people at their word that they care about the autism struggle when they don’t show up in droves to the banners of the neurodiversity movement with this level of enthusiasm. Rather, we are part of a culture that likes to sympathize with toxic men. If the man wasn’t autistic, they’d find some other excuse, but since he is, in defending him they can also activate the ableist notion that autistic people are incapable of respecting boundaries. I choose the word “incapable” because if your position is that autistic people sometimes don’t know better than to violate a boundary, the logical conclusion is simply that someone should teach them. To sincerely and enthusiastically take up this kind of “poor autistic guy doesn’t know any better” rhetoric, you have to presume complete incompetence of autistic people and that we’ll never learn, so that when a straight autistic man does a violating thing to a woman, they can shrug their shoulders and say, “well, I guess nothing can be done about this.” This attitude is sexism and ableism couched in a delusion of sympathy.

Category number two of takes, I like lots better but still am not quite satisfied with, and can be roughly summarized: “This isn’t caused by autism, it’s caused by being an asshole.” While I agree that being an asshole is the main ingredient in this cocktail, I don’t think the autism should be dismissed as an irrelevant detail. I think there is a sexism problem specific to autistic men that needs to be separately talked about and addressed. I intend to do so in this post, without assigning blame either to the autism or to the women being abused.

I want to note in advance that this post will be cishet-centric, not because I think straight experiences are universal, partly because the behavior of cishet men is what’s at task here, but mostly because I have no idea how these issues affect LGBTQIA communities. If anyone is able and willing offer insight or resources on that topic, I’d love to hear from you.

I. Autistic men

Having experienced it firsthand, I can say for sure that autistic loneliness is a vicious cycle. By loneliness, I mean a lack of any social connection, not just a lack of romantic or sexual partners. Autism makes social interaction more difficult, which makes it harder to find friends, but, crucially, not having friends also makes social interaction more difficult. More people to interact with means more practice with social interaction; it also means more assistance from comparatively clued-in people who care about us. This vicious cycle can also manifest with respect to a subset of people. For example, an autistic child who only socially interacts with adults may have trouble forming connections with peers. For the purpose of this discussion, I want to focus on the problems this presents for autistic boys who want to interact with girls in their age group.

The scarcity of cross-gender social interaction during childhood need not be framed as a uniquely autistic experience. Societal forces sort us by gender from an incredibly early age, so the vast majority of our social connections in childhood are with people of the same gender. Furthermore, especially during and after adolescence, boys and men are discouraged from being emotionally close with one another. Thus, the norms of masculinity isolate us almost totally from peers of all genders. Our social connections with men must be superficial; our social connections with women must be non-platonic. For those of us who crave the emotional intimacy that our same-gender friendships lack, a romantic relationship is the only socially acceptable opportunity to forming a deep, loving bond with someone close to our own age.

Enter autism (again). Dating, when we hit adolescence, is wholly new to us, and we have been given no opportunity to adjust ourselves to its social norms. Autism makes this a particular challenge, as do gender roles in dating. Since men are supposed to initiate and women are supposed to merely give subtle hints (if not be straight-out “hard to get”), straight autistic men face both the pressure of leaping into an arena that intimidates us, and the bewilderment of not knowing whether it’s working. If I had a crush on you in high school, I probably kept it a secret; if you had a crush on me, I probably didn’t notice.

Worth noting here that none of the things I’ve listed are evidence against autistic men’s actual attractiveness or appeal to women. We are facing access barriers that accumulate over the course of our lives until we finally figure out how to start ripping them down, and when we do, we quite often do get to have romantic and sexual relationships. But the prevailing narrative about autism and other disabilities is that they’re unsexy, and a lot of autistic men buy into that. I myself thought I was one of those autistic men who’d never date or have sex until experience taught me otherwise.

Knowing all this, we can see why a lot of autistic men might feel both that they need a relationship to be happy, and that they cannot possibly have one. This makes us prime targets for recruitment, because the sense of personal injury at being deprived of sexual experiences for reasons beyond one’s control is as indispensable an ingredient in the various movements of the “manosphere” as the sexism itself. It’s not that autistic men are any more or any less sexist than regular men, but that the sexists among us already feel exactly the way these communities require them to feel: deeply aggrieved, and deeply desperate. Pickup artistry both validates this sense of personal injury, and sells itself as the solution: a set of simple, logical rules that, when followed, will grant success. But it misses the uncomfortable truth that while everyone deserves to receive love, no particular person is obliged to give it. This is a deeply frustrating contradiction with no easy solution, but the solution certainly is not to cynically manipulate women into doing the thing you want.

III. Allistic women

I never was a pickup artist, but that doesn’t mean I never harbored a grievance against women for my loneliness. After all, I thought, wouldn’t my perpetual singleness end if women were more direct and assertive? As such, I worry that other people who read this may end up pinning the responsibility for autistic loneliness onto individual women too. The previous section hints at why that’s wrong, but I also want to take the time to explain why it’s deeply unfair.

My autism and masculinity were first brought into conjunction (or was it conflict?) in my mind in my freshman year of college. One of my new Facebook friends shared a Tumblr blog called “Straight White Boys Texting” which was a collection of screenshots of unwanted straight white boy texts, running the gamut from simple inability to take a hint to bona fide “what color is your thong” garbage. I felt pretty attacked, partly because I wasn’t yet used to seeing myself as part of a “straight white boys” collective that people didn’t like, and partly because what I saw was a bunch of guys missing social cues and taking things literally, just as a younger me would have done. I felt like I needed to say something - and boy, was that a bad decision. I said something about how the women in the screenshots needed to be more direct, and got instant (and deserved) backlash both for focusing on the least important problem in the interactions and for placing responsibility for a male behavior problem squarely back onto women.

At the time, I didn’t have a coherent framework for understanding sexism. Since then, I’ve learned that giving a direct no can occasionally get women killed, and most often at least gets them yelled at and insulted. Giving a yes also comes with its own risks - the risk of rape, in (unfortunately-not-actually-so-)extreme cases where that inch of “yes” results in guys taking a mile, but also the more pervasive risk of being socially stigmatized as slutty or promiscuous. It’s often the most women can get away with to be subtle (rather than completely silent) about all of their wants and needs, so that a discerning man who actually cares will know what those wants and needs are and respect them.

This puts those of us who have trouble with reading subtle signals in a difficult position if we inadvertently cross a boundary, but that’s not a problem women can reasonably be expected to solve. If a man crosses a woman’s boundaries because he simply doesn’t respect them, he wants to make it look like it’s an accident so that he will be forgiven. “But Aaron,” you might say, “didn’t you just say that the right thing to do in those situations is to teach people the right behavior, not ignore it?” Yes, that’s true. But that assumes the continuation of a conversation that a woman might feel safer just skipping; if a man is making her feel uncomfortable, she’s probably not inclined to continue to converse with him in order to establish whether his intentions were good or bad. When we impose the burden of freeing males from loneliness onto women, we are asking them to continue to interact with frightening men at their own peril.

Ironically enough, some of these frightening men are the autistic pickup artists from part 1. This means that pickup artists, far from “solving” the problems with dating they feel aggrieved by, are actually making it more difficult for everyone except themselves by giving women one more reason to be scared and cynical, and men who slip up one more type of monster to be mistaken for.

IV. Autistic women

At first glance, it seems like there’s a choice to be made here, between supporting autistic men who want to be valued as potential romantic and sexual partners and supporting allistic women who just want to be safe. But what I’m realizing more and more is that when there seems to be a conflict between the needs of two marginalized groups, the right choice is generally to avoid picking a side and instead find ways to support both groups. This works well, not only because both groups get what they want, but because if a side must be chosen, the people at the intersection of the two groups will lose both ways.

Autistic women bear the brunt of every part of this mess, as described in detail by Kassiane Asasumasu on her blog, Radical Neurodivergence Speaking (see  the links later in this paragraph). Because autistic men fear ableism from neurotypical women, we tend to believe that autistic women are the only partners who will accept us for who we are. As a result, autistic women report being swarmed at autism meetup groups by men looking for a girlfriend, and those men who struggle with independent living are more than willing to escape that by leaning on the patriarchal expectation that the woman does all the chores, even when she is an autistic woman who struggles with the exact same tasks. This means autistic women actually interact with sexist autistic men the most, and not only are they subject to the same toxic shit that allistic women have to deal with, but they’re also expected to “understand” these men and thus endlessly tolerate their (supposedly inevitable) shitty behavior.

V. Solutions

Fortunately, the choice between female safety and autistic desirability is not a choice we have to make, but the solutions are not as simple as members of one or the other group simply choosing to behave differently. Rather, they require the collective participation of all kinds of people.

Addressing autistic male sexism necessarily means addressing sexism. It means respecting when women say no, rather than making it an unpleasant experience they might fear to repeat. It means teaching consent in special education classrooms, so that no one can claim in good faith that an autistic boy who crosses a boundary simply doesn’t know better. It means teaching girls, as they grow into women, that they are under no obligation to tolerate sexist behavior out of sympathy for the sexist man.

But addressing sexism also means supporting boys and men as they escape the confines of conventional masculinity. It means enabling and encouraging them to have close friends of all genders. It means reminding them that they don’t need a woman, any more than a woman needs a man.

In addition to addressing sexism, we need to address the ableism that prevents autistic people from accessing not just dating but emotional closeness of all kinds. We need to stimulate autistic people’s peer relationships at all stages of life. We cannot do this if special ed teachers continue to view us as broken allistic people rather than whole autistic people, nor can we do it if they view us as incomplete adults rather than entire children. If an autistic boy is unable to learn about condoms because it offends the sensibilities of the teacher, or if he is unable to learn how to talk like a teenager because his parents would like him to learn to speak like an adult, then that autistic boy is being deprived both of autonomy and of the opportunity to learn.

Furthermore, we need to teach allistic children how to interact with their autistic peers. Autistic people need no additional incentive to learn how to interact with the societal majority who control their access to jobs, housing, healthcare, education, political representation, and much more. Allistic people can, however, choose not to bother learning how to support and include us and face almost no social consequences beyond not getting to see my cool maps. Rather than alleviating this unequal distribution of incentives, adults generally exacerbate it by focusing only on the social development of autistic children with respect to interactions with allistic people, but not on the social development of allistic children towards being able to interact with autistic people. This is because the prevailing view regarding autism is still that our modes of moving through the world are incorrect and defective, whereas allistic modes of social interaction are viewed as normal and valid even when they exclude others.

The problem of autistic male sexism is hairy and complicated, but if we take the above steps, we can solve it without further stigmatizing autism, and without victim-blaming women. We don’t have to leave anyone behind in this conversation. Rather, by fighting both for autism acceptance and consent culture, we can produce a more just world where everyone gets the love and respect that they deserve.