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beautifulpersonpeach · 9 months

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I definitely want to back up that anon who thinks jimin is still in the kitchen! In truth I think all the boys are and will be for a long time. I see chapter two as the introduction of their solo careers meaning "hey we are gonna be bts but also be ourselves sometimes too" I think every solo moment we've seen is the beginning which I'm for one super excited about. Imagine a wave of brilliant solo work one year and then phenomenal group work the next. Chapter two is barely a year in and it's already a visual and musical feast. I think jimin loves quietly preparing so he can wow us when he feels the time is right and while I too get tense with the constant radio silence I know it's cause he'll blow my mind the second he wants too. I hope people who feel as if Jimin didn't get a chance to show his true might feel comforted in that he will never ever stop wanting to gag tf out of us. And I think the sentiment holds the same for bts.

***

Exactly this. Up until a few months ago I thought this was well understood, seeing as how BTS has operated till now, but clearly I was mistaken.

For posterity’s sake, to beat this dead horse one final time:

Would it be nice for each member’s release to not have any of the issues they’ve had? Of course. But it’s possible to inform the company of said issues, address what we can for issues due to various platform errors not due to the company, while not losing sight of the fact this is only 2023. We’re still only in 2023. As in, we’re literally just one year into Chapter 2, none of the guys are older than 30, and they keep saying they’re in this for the long haul. And this is the same group that has shown over a decade that their plans are most often and best executed in multi-year stints.

It’s bizarre to think a member’s solo career is over or even damaged at all in any real way because of one or more problems that happened during their first solo release. It betrays such a myopic, winner-take-all mentality that you have to be in a very specific headspace to fully buy into.

Jimin is clearly happy and working. He’s not blind and is seeing what is working for other members and what isn’t. They’re all checking out each other’s solo endeavours from time to time, cheering each other on and I’d say making notes on what they too could try, what works and what doesn’t.

If there’s one thing that’s become clear to me over the years, and even more so in Chapter 2, it’s that BTS is a team. A real team. I’ve seen a lot of k-pop groups over the years and there is no group today, present or past, that would reach the heights BTS has if any of the members sought to harm or sabotage or lord shit over the rest, with or without help from the company. None of the BTS members would put up with that shit. Their egos are too big, they’re so obviously their own people, very ambitious and so aware of it that I really wonder if people actually listen to these men when they talk. They know exactly what they’re worth, and they trust that all the other members know it too. If BigHit showed any real favouritism, BTS is the last group to allow that if it’s not something they themselves have already agreed to.

They all know what they’re doing. And if they don’t, then they’re the only people with the tools to figure it out. All the angst and anguish over this or that happening in fan spaces, has no real effect on these men sitting somewhere in Seoul planning out everything they’d like to do as solo artists and as part of BTS.

That’s my takeaway after watching them for as long as I have. I could be wrong, but I’ve not seen anything to suggest that yet. I’m not sure how long you’ve been in the fandom Anon, or what you think about other issues, but it’s nice to see you and the other Anon share this perspective. It’s a view that’s widely accepted in the fan spaces I’m in outside of Tumblr, but one that is sorely lacking in this space right now.

For no reason at all, one Jimin that I hope one day shows up in Chapter 2, 3, or 4:

Sidebar - A friend (who isn’t religious) was asking another friend recently about religion, because she’s now desperate enough to seek divine intervention for Jimin to find blonde hair dye, and to love it again.

We all know his best hair colour is black, but it’s just as true that a solid case has been made for him being a natural blonde.

Okay, that’s it today from my gallery.

That colleague i mentioned the other day, the one that recently got into BTS and now biases Jimin, we’re meeting up this weekend with my other friend, the musician that watched the Grammys with me last year and fell in love with Jimin. That’s an example of two people still finding out about Jimin, falling in love with his music and him as a person, and starting to support him. None of the noise online actually has any real bearing on the impact of real life people still learning about Jimin through his solo music and through BTS, and becoming his fans maybe for life.

If anyone finds themselves feeling overwhelmed in fandom, please zoom out. Please take time away and get some perspective. Everything I’ve said is obvious, none of it is rocket science or gleaned from any special insight. The noise online can suck you in, to prevent that, please detach, go back to their recent and old interviews to hear what they each feel about Chapter 2 and their solo work, listen to all of what Jimin expressed during his promotions, the good and bad. You’d be left with fewer anxieties. At least, that’s the case for me.

Thanks for this, Anon.

#BTS #bts chapter 2 #jimin #park jimin #BTS fandom #fandom behaviour

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iwozlegit · 1 year

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A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

This was getting dusty in my askbox, I’m so sorry! Tumblr likes to hide asks on my phone but show them on my MacBook :’)

Answering ~

|| 🍍• I kinda came to my own conclusion with this one more recently, but Megatron and Soundwave. Their dynamic in Transformers: Prime especially catches my eye a lot.

Like with Optimus and Megatron, they’ve also got a history - Soundwave with a seemingly fierce loyalty to Megatron, who essentially sees himself as the Decepticon cause. Megatron has such obvious admiration for Soundwave and his skills, yet he oddly doesn’t have him any more senior in the ranks than he is (a precaution perhaps because of how valuable he is to Megatron aside from the Decepticon cause…like a certain other someone).

When Knock Out comes back injured from New York, Megatron ensures that the first thing he does is look over Soundwave.

“And only Soundwave comes back with something other than an excuse…” Soundwave had a single crack in his visor, Knock Out was fucked. Soundwave is a highly capable warrior and still fragged Wheeljack up with his disheveled visor.

His silence and silent following is the most intriguing. Like how does Soundwave really feel about his Master spiralling? Does he get those same premonitions Optimus has/had about Megatron losing his way in his seemingly loyal silence?

Like Starscream notes quite obviously that their Master has a case of suspected “space madness,” and Soundwave barely reacts. How loyal is he really? Do you think he has the same doubts? Does he admire Megatron as much as Megatron does him, or is Soundwave just loyal to the Decepticon cause first?

A relationship between these two would be interesting. I’ve seen a lot of wild interpretations of Megatron being a defiler solely because it’s convenient alongside his rage-induced Decepticon antics in narrative. And while I think Megatron’s violence becomes immensely unhinged, I don’t think he’d ever reach a low quite so deep. I imagine, as Soundwave maintains a stoic silent aura, a love between them would be tender…well as tender as a former gladiator could muster anyways…helm bumps, nudges…all in privacy evidently. Maybe occasionally on the bridge in those quieter hours. Soundwave’s lack of verbally expressing himself could open up to an interesting communication between the two through touch, as well.

One of those situations where everyone thinks… “yeah, there’s something going on there…” and they just conclude to themselves that maybe, in theory, they are…but they’re content with what they have without labels.

Gonna go write these two now why not-!

#|| ooc •#|| prompted •#|| headcanons •#I’d happily talk more about this #these are like initial thoughts #|| jess speaks •#|| mun shenanigans •#tfp #transformers prime #Megatron #Soundwave #Knock Out #Starscream #megasound #@omalahsocs #@legitconcrusher

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dunmer-pussy · 4 months

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i have gone to face the beast and to drivel at his feast,

may the two of us never be seen.

and my love, may you sleep as the oceans fall deep,

and i swear i won’t tell you where I’ve been.

—

the onceler guy

cayde/saint/vex/voryn

he/it/xe/rok. please do not use they/them pronouns to refer to me. I default to he/him and it/its. Reference the information below the cut for how to utilize my neopronouns properly.

weird queer. the t4t butch bear my-agab-is-none-of-your-business fagdyke they use as an example of how not to be queer. It’s me I’m the strawman. Local goth guy, resident metal dude. Both doesn’t give a fuck and very much does give a fuck about your feelings and thoughts about things, absorbs things like a sponge as a result. Overthinker and overnanalyzer extreme. Big asshole (subjective?). Indigenous.

I may occasionally reblog things that are suggestive, follow/scroll at your own discretion. I will not post explicit cock-out nsfw, I have a sideblog for that. The only exemption to this is non-sexual nudity.

Personal/other sideblog @cayde6feetunder. This is my fandom main blog therefore I follow from here.

rabid machine-animal-demon-monster thing. The Sol Divisive in a physical human-shaped body on Earth. An Ahamkara free from the restraints of mere story. Local batshit dark elf boy. Some sort of creature. Unironic kinnie/alterhuman/etc in 2024 (if it isn’t obvious).

disabled+mentally ill

I am anti-Zionist and pro-Palestine. This does not equate to antisemitism. This is not up for debate nor do I want to debate this because I don’t engage with those “debate me bro” types. Cry me a river and feel free to drown yourself in it too, I don’t want to hear it. I am not responsible for your lack of education or unwillingness to re-educate yourself.

writer. oc haver. feel free to ask me about them, here's my spreadsheet! Tumblr and the destiny community’s most blocked sweetiepie (for having correct opinions and a juicy ass). The guy who promises to write things but then never does it.

Hey I have a discord server too, anyone is welcome even tho a majority of the people there are destiny guys. We are pretty tightly knit but don’t mind newcomers to our fold.

please reference my pronouns page (first link) and the google doc linked therein (first link on pronouns page) for additional information. Such details will also be included here below the cut for convenience, albeit more specific to Tumblr.

Neopronouns

Xe/xem

Examples taken from the samples on the pronouns page:

I think xe is very nice.

I asked xem if I can borrow xirs pencil.

Xe told me that the house is xirs.

Xe said that xe would rather do it xemself.

The subject pronoun is “xe.” The object pronoun is “xem.” The possessive determiner and possessive pronoun is “xirs.” The reflexive is “xemself.”

Rok/ok

Once more, examples taken from the samples on the pronouns page. This pronoun is taken from the dragon language present in The Elder Scrolls and therefore might be more appropriately suited for it than any other language. thuum.org is a great reference tool.

I think rok is very nice.

I asked rok if I can borrow ok pencil.

Rok told me that the house is ok.

Rok said that rok would rather do it rok.

The subject pronoun is “rok.” The object pronoun is “rok.” The possessive determiner and possessive pronoun is “ok.” The reflexive is “rok.”

Additional Information

Here I will detail some other key miscellaneous bullet points. I maintain a neutral yet punctual tone through this but since this is through text, prior apologizes if I come across as aggressive.

I do not have a DNI as I am to the belief that they’re useless but know that if I block you it’s for a reason.

Do not tone police me. I don’t need to be made to walk on eggshells anymore by anyone. If you need clarifications, ask me. Do not ever make hard and fast assumptions about anything unless you’re willing to bet on that high-stakes gamble that you also gotta be ready to lose severely. Thank you.

This blog is not a place for drama or discourse. Please don’t start shit with me. Please don’t drag me into shit. Tell me the gossip but do not expect me to get involved or mediate.

If you want to vent to me about something, feel free, but please ask me first. I am low-to-no empathy, but I would like to consider myself compassionate.

Do not harass anyone on my behalf in any and every capacity. You are not righteous. Keep my name out of your mouth.

Do not pester me as to why I blocked you or someone else. I block people liberally and for various reasons. Do not send anyone to pester me as to why I blocked you or someone else. It is most likely between me and the other person involved, or, again, because I block people liberally.

I am anti-pro/comship. No, this does not equate to harassment/doxxing/etc in any way, shape or form and if you are to that assumption not only is it incorrect and not only are those serious accusations, you are on a one-way flight to my blocklist. Me being antiship does not mean that I am anti-dark media. Do not bother me about it. There are way fucking bigger things to worry about in this world.

I am an inclusionist. This means that I support any and every harmless, good-faith identity I.E microlabels, contradictory labels, xenogenders and neopronouns, etc etc. It is not to be confused for radical inclusionism (which, encompasses “identities” that are far from harmless I.E MAP or zoo).

I fucking hate radfems/terfs/TIRFs, if you’re gonna send me anon hate about it and accuse me of being a transphobe in any form over it you are legally required to be funny or you’re just wasting both of our times and it will most likely be deleted anyways cos I don’t have time for that shit. Above all else I believe in the unity of all trans people and will not stand for anyone or anything that will threaten this unity such as general transphobia/(insert any other specific terminology here), radfeminism/terfism et-cetera. If this is something that you are for some reason against you will not have a place here.

I am a therian and I identify with alterhumanity and non-humanity. Do not be weird about it.

I welcome asks and messages! Go crazy.

I only bite in the way that two play-wrestling dogs do.

Please communicate to me about anything and everything. I don’t bite, I would be a hypocrite if I do.

Discord and other usernames are available on request.

(Galaxy divider source)

#caydeposting #song lyrics is werewolf’s eyes by birch book

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forabeatofadrum · 1 year

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Here it is, fic rec friday! I said I was gonna do this! I don’t know if it’ll be a weekly thing, because it depends on whether or not I read fics in a week. Also, to prevent people from being overwhelmed by tags, I don’t think this is going to be a tag challenge, but of course feel free to also make your own post with recs!

Strap in Klainers and Snowbazzians, cause here we go. It’s another long one! Happy reading!

@cerriddwenluna wrote Swipe, a funny one-shot about Kurt and Blaine meeting through Tinder. Sort of. Look, it has a tiny plot twist. You have to read it for yourself 👈(ﾟヮﾟ👈).

I read more of Gwen’s stuff! I started Bem Vindo a Portugal, previously known as Klaine in the Netherlands which became Klaine in Portugal. I do not mind, Gwen, and if you ever need more help with Klaine in the Netherlands, please have this: klompen, windmolen, kaas, tulpen, kroketten! Jokes aside, though, I am excited to get to know Portugal. I’ve never been here, but my mum actually visited Lisbon for the first time a few weeks ago and she was very excited.

There are quite some Marta fics I still need to read (goblin!Baz is still somewhere buried in my Likes), but I am going through them! I read The Vampire and the Boy in the Tower and I am speechless. It is so good. Oh my God, Marta created a wonderful universe with a lot of angst, but also hope.

I still have Klaine Advent fics to catch up on, and I read @snarkyhag‘s WIP. I... don’t really know how to link it, since there isn’t a masterpost or a separate Tumblr tag or an AO3 entry yet, so for now, have the Klaine Advent 2022 tag! Yay, Klaine and Samcedes!

Another cute story is Tipsy Truths by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep. Simon confesses his feelings for Baz through a drunk text. Oh boy!

Apart from reading fic, I also love reading people’s thoughts about fic. @facewithoutheart had a nice extra about This Will All Go Down In Flames over here. (Also, Fuck The Mage, kinda). @cutestkilla also shared some Humdrum insider information here. It’s really cool to see what parts of canon have been expanded on for What’s Left. And @captain-aralias also has some behind the scenes stuff here on Four Funereal Weddings and an American Stag Do. I adore the fic (and the suits!).

I am also losing it over the “HELEN!!!!”s in The Wellbeloves by @ionlydrinkhotwater. This is a comic where Simon and Agatha are siblings. I am so emo about Simon having a lovely family and this is so fun.

Unfortunately, I also come with angst. A post on my dashboard led me to This Will End in Flames by @bloodiedpixie and uhhh yeah MCD warning. Simon dies in Wayward Son. I need... a moment... to lie down and weep. I see there is also another installment in this series where Baz dies, but I’m not strong enough for that now.

Now, for something no one asked for! This is another thing that I saw on my dashboard, but apparently a group of people started a project in 2016 called Sarah Jane Neverending, which is an extension of the Sarah Jane Adventures! (Kind of like Class: Ongoing, I guess.) (Whovians, man.). SJA got cancelled in 2011 and it was very unexpected, since Lis Sladen, the main actress, died. Back then, three more episodes were already planned and I know that over the years fans have asked for novalisations of those stories, so that they could at least be seen as canon. That never happened, so I guess some fans took matters into their own hands. I have only read their season 5B stories, aka their version of the 3 unproduced episodes. I will see if I will also read their completely fanmade season 6 and 7. But yeah, season 5B. Damn. The Thirteenth Floor fucked me up in particular.

And lastly, there might be some smaller ficlets or drabbles that I won’t mention in these posts, but I will redirect you to my fic tags on my main blog: Klaine fics (klfics), Brittana fics (bsfics), general Glee fics (glee fic), Whoniverse fics (dw fic), Check, Please! fics (omgcp fics), Simon Snow series fics (co fics), and the general fic tag (fics). And here’s the original writing tag, because why not. I do put a lot of stuff in a long queue, so the tags might now always be “up to date”.

Also, guys, I need you to know that I was going through the generic fic tag, retagging fics that needed to be retagged, and I found a Snowbaz fic from the Fangirl days and it was tagged as Bazon. BAZON.

AND OKAY, one more thing. When I was cleaning out that rusty tag, I also came across this fic called And In The End by @scrunchyharry (Klainers might remember the name fleurdelisse). It’s over ten years old, but I remembered it immediately. I might’ve even printed it out 10 years ago. Like, I am pretty sure I have a physical copy of it somewhere. Caroline, I see you’ve probably left the fandom, so I didn’t know if I should tag you, but if you read this, please know that even ten years later, this fic makes me so emotional.

#fic rec friday #technically speaking i have 4 more fic tags #i have a fic tag on my winx blog and on my avatar blog #and i have two topic fic tags #wait i have another one another fandom #but i kind of stopped reading fic for that one due to *cough* conflicted feelings #lol guess what fandom #also the 5b stories did become sort of canon in 2020 #long story #but yeah this week i am back on my bullshit huh #tagged in

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gilliebee · 10 months

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nine (9) people you'd like to know better

I got tagged by the wonderful @five4boarding and tumblr never gives me a little +1 notification icon when I get tagged in anything (like any other type of note would, so I don’t get it!!), so I live in fear that I’m always gonna miss these BUT I caught this one at least 👉😎👉

Last song: during my morning walk I randomly remembered the catchiest depression bop and then remembered the first time I looked up the guy's wiki and saw that he played hockey and I was like you're telling me a knife-footed ice-gremlin sang this???? (swiss juniors but still high level for his age bracket I think?) Anyway... Tomorrow May Not Be Better (specifically this version https://open.spotify.com/track/0V1quXmlVC6eH5kcfYPWEW ) by Bastian Baker still slaps to this very day 😌👌

Currently watching: My longstanding guilty pleasure is docs/commentary videos about any and all scams, particularly mlms/pyramid schemes. So it should come as no surprise that my brand new guilty pleasure is debt confessions/financial audits on youtube 🙈 I've been been watching a few by caleb hammer whose gimmick is that he gordon ramsey style shames people who come in with their financial records and he's like hey. why do you have $120,000 in consumer debt? why did you finance an ipad for your literal infant child?? why have you spent 30 dollars multiple times a day every day at dunkin for the last 3 months??? (the last one is an exaggeration but the first two I have seen LOL). His thumbnails are wretched I hate them so, so much, and his advice of living spartan-like for a few years to dig yourself out of the hole is ehhh maybe good in theory but generally not exactly...practical. And I think going cold turkey when you're used to constant impulse buying is basically a recipe for just eventually losing control and going on a bender. But. I'm nosy and love hearing about how people be spending their money so that's the best part of the videos for me lol

Currently reading: haven't picked up something new yet BUT I juuuust finished An Unauthorised Fan Treatise which was SO GOOD I literally slammed it nonstop for two days until I finished it. It's formatted like a rpf conspiracy theory livejournal where a fangirl of a supernatural-drama show compiles evidence that the two lead actors are secretly dating. BUT it's noted that the livejournal has been submitted as evidence into for a murder trial so y'know TWISTS AND TURNS lol. There's just something about the format that really compels me, idk I already love reading primers and conspiracies for hrpf couples that I literally have zero investment in and never will- I just enjoy the way the girlies spin a good narrative. (and also watching video essays about the uhhh less casual to super trainwreck ones like the whole larry fiasco even though I never got into 1D, as well as general fandom fiascos like msscribe and snapewives etc etc IT'S ALL SO FASCINATING TO ME 🍿👀) So it was a really natural fit for me to read in a fictional setting. And it's free to read! https://gottiewrites.com/2019/10/14/31/

Current obsession: I’m a hobbyist game maker so at all times I am rotating little bits of character development, experimental mechanics, aesthetics, ui design etc etc in my brain but it becomes much more mentally consuming during the off-season bc god knows when bruins hockey is live it is Featured Live 24/7 In My Brain. But for now... my OCs on my mind 😌💭

tagging (if you want to): OH NO I’M SO BASHFUL I NEVER KNOW WHO TO TAG IN THESE 🫣🫣🫣 uh uh uhh maybe @ghostgeno @alavenderleaf @tylerbertuzzi @reavenedges-lies @krugstrash if y’all are so inclined?? but also no pressure no pressure again I’m just NOSY hehe

#my main communication style is RAMBLING lol #also I didn't tag 9 people because I guess I'm just a rebel rule breaker #this was a great excuse to rant about an unauthorized fan treatise which has been on my mind after finishing it but like my bf didn't know #what tf to make of my rambling about it and all the like fandom culture references within #hopefully this is formatted correctly and hopefully none of the original words accidentally got left in when I copy-pasted that would be #very embarrassing

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lehhoh7822 · 1 year

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I’m happy in a sense that other people are as gutted as me

cause okay

uhhh so might have seen this probably not but I was trying to do an art piece for a class and failing horribly like it was not good vibes at all

and I wasn’t sleeping at all and I was literally losing my mind

so this was the thing that kept me sane (it’s debateable that it made it worse to be honest) and I- again? I’ve said I’m joining quackblr and followed the blogs but I don’t watch quackity and generally find his character cool, but kinda just that. There’s an intoxicating element of community that was here, my constant disparity rate checking, my sister made an account for voting ethos and quackity, propaganda and fanart (especially the one @toasted-treasure gave to me thank you so so much), sending asks and getting the most notes (half from my own desperate reblogging of the poll itself) I have ever, ever got in my two years and three months here

I think that. It’s kinda in a sense boring that they ended up with the top 4 seeded? And that’s how they’re going to end it, but to be fair that’s a reasonable ending idea

but really I had multiple emotional breakdowns over the past few days about being mentally ill and struggling with completing work, and that art took over 60 hours in the end maybe more and what I was doing while executive dysfunction beat my ass and exhaustion suffocated me? Campaign for these polls

it wasn’t just about winning it’s about working hard and having made your friends vote and the weird kind of sense of being the underdog. To be fully honest, I’m kinda gutted by losing because it was good and it Was a lot of work and I genuinely would love to see quackity seeded 22 go up against someone seeded like 3 (especially because on a voter count level, both scar and cleo (Joe has and ethos would be like finals finals) haven’t being pushed to get to 30000 and our ridiculous numbers yet)

but. Just this was something I liked cause it gave me a sense of friendship and community within tumblr

honestly on my blog like. This might be a one time thing. That’s upsetting.

I am sad and it is that deep because my emotions matter to me because I have to deal with them. I don’t really want to engage in the polls last two rounds like I already was only voting on two polls by the end

the DSMP characters being weeded out and like racism and weird shit is like sad. Expected because I’ve seen us do discourse and we are never act remotely normal but sad anyway because it took away from creators who aren’t…. Y’know like dream?? I guess?? I think that’s why they hate it so much?

so thank you quackblr, thank you Thes and soap and AD and toasted treasure and neejo36 (not sure if that’s the word sorry) and those who followed. It’s been a beautiful run of community and hard fucking work and art and fiction band bribes and voter fraud that for me, was a bright spot in like 4 days of extreme sleep deprivation and emotional dysfunction

because well I hate to say it but someone has to

maybe the real mcytblr sexy man win was the friends we made along the way…

#Long post #lehhohgoeszoom #Or it’s #Lehhogoeszoom #Okay tagging for filtering now #mcytblr sexyman #mcytblr sexymen poll #quackblr

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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First, i love your blog! Second, this fandom really loves angst huh! I wanted to request something along the lines of R x lena, where reader finds out/thinks kara has feelings for Lena, and that Lena will leave her once she finds out. BUT, lena doesnt, she stays and chooses R (which I feel like never happens in this angsty requests haha) thanks!!

Only You

Summary: Y/N has some insecurities after finding out that Kara likes her girlfriend, Lena. Lena is there to reassure her.

Authors Note: Thank you and thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/benoiststuff

Y/N had been involved in the DEO after since she was little, with her father being an agent there, and throughout all her years, nothing and no one was able to throw her off course.

Until Lena came along.

As soon as she saw the tall, dark brunette with thick red lipstick, enter the room and instantly take charge, for the first time in her career, Y/N was severely distracted. Despite the paperwork she was filling out and how determined she had been to finish, Y/N found herself unable to keep her eyes locked on her computer, and instead her gaze trailed after the dashing woman.

Every time Lena neared her desk, Y/N found herself frozen in her seat, the thoughts vanishing from her head and being replaced by fluffy clouds of nothing-ness, only able to concentrate on Lena’s lovely perfume.

It seemed that she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her newfound crush (not that she was actively trying to hide it), because when the DEO had Lena assemble a team of agents to help her with her research, Alex had eagerly suggested Y/N to be one of the agents in that group.

The moment she heard her name her palms slapped down on the keyboard in surprise and her head popped up, eyes frantic to adjust to whatever she was now being involved with. “Huh?” Was her ‘elegant’ response.

Alex did not bother to conceal her smirk. “Y/N, you’re going to be apart of Lena’s team,” she said, and when Lena gracefully turned to her, lips curling into a big smile, Y/N felt butterflies swarm her stomach, bouncing around inside.

The rest was history: by the end of the week, Lena had asked Y/N out on a date, and by the end of the month, they were dating. Y/N had Alex to thank for their relationship and it only strengthened her already close friendship with Alex and, by extension Alex’s younger sister, Kara - also known as Supergirl.

When Lena and Y/N had gotten more serious, Kara revealed that she was Supergirl, and the couple began going to Kara’s superfriends game nights.

Their relationship was blooming and Y/N had never been at a happier time in her life. A wonderful, committed girlfriend, a steady job she loved, and amazing and supportive friends. Everything was going great, so when Y/N started to notice Kara hanging out with Lena more and more often, she was in a blissfully ignorant state and did not notice what was actually happening.

Well, she didn’t notice at first, but when she was going to drop off some papers with Alex who had been training with Kara at the moment, she overheard the sisters’ conversation just before she walked into the room.

“Alex, I just don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t do anything, Kara . . . I mean, Lena is in love with Y/N.”

“I know, I know, it’s just so hard seeing them together! Honestly, I think I may be in love with Lena . . .”

Y/N stopped listening at that point, and instead turning around on her heels, dropping the paperwork on Alex’s desk before sinking into her own seat. She absentmindedly checked her email, not focusing as a gloomy cloud settled in her stomach, almost causing nausea.

As she begin to recall the past couple weeks, Y/N internally facepalmed. It had been so obvious! With how Kara constantly stood next to Lena, found excuses to touch her arm or her hand, laughed at everything she said, and constantly complimented her.

How had she not noticed? And more importantly — how did Lena not notice?!

Shit, did Lena notice?

No, that was silly . . .

But she had to - it was clear as day!

Did she . . . Why didn’t she stop it?

Did she enjoy it?

Did she feel the same way?

Shit, shit, shit!

A feeling of dread overcame and smashed her previous happiness like a large and powerful wave crashing onto a beach. Y/N forced herself to take deep breaths as her mind went into a frenzy, trying and failing to come up with some other reasonable explanation for this.

But she couldn’t convince herself of any other one, so for the next couple days, her behavior had changed drastically. Y/N kept to herself, only spoke when someone was directly speaking to her, and had done her best to avoid Kara and Lena — which was difficult since she lived with Lena.

When the girlfriends were spending their weekend night at their home, Lena finally had a change to confront Y/N.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”

Y/N’s eyes were trained on the television screen which was showing a movie they had both seen a thousand times. She made no indication of having heard her girlfriend.

“Y/N.”

It took a few moments, but finally her eyes slowly moved away from the team, yet it didn’t meet Lena’s eyes. “Sure,” she murmured.

“There’s something wrong, Y/N, I can tell. Can you tell me what it is?”

The next seconds were agonizingly slow.

“N-nothing is wrong.”

“Y/N, please, I just want to help,” Lena persisted.

Another agonizing couple of seconds.

“Please don’t leave me for her.”

A loud sob left Y/N’s parted lips as she curled forward, wrapping her arms around herself, dipping her head and trembling.

Lena had not expected this and sat up, drawing her eyebrows together. “What? For who?” She demanded, and bit her lip as she hadn’t intended to be so, well, demanding.

“K-Kara. She likes you. And she’s been showing it for weeks and you haven’t stopped her. I-I can’t compete with Supergirl,” Y/N sniffled.

Lena blinked, processing this. After a couple moments, the only sound filling the air being the dull T.V and Y/N’s sniffs, Lena moved closer to her girlfriend.

“No, Y/N, Kara cannot compete with you,” Lena corrected softly.

Y/N slowly picked her head up, and when she turned her head to face her girlfriend, the brunette saw how puffy and red her eyes were.

Lena continued. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t notice that she liked me at all - I swear. And I don’t return her feelings. I only love you.”

Y/N’s trembles stopped. “Really?” She asked, and when Lena nodded she happily gasped and then added, “Oh, Len, I’m sorry for thinking that you would like her — I just love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena shook her head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for,” she said, before thinking and then leaning forward, locking Y/N’s lips with a kiss, which she gladly returned.

The couple continued on their night, snuggling and trying a movie that none of them had watched before. They fell asleep on the couch, Lena’s arms wrapped around Y/N.

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alldayangst · 3 years

Text

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!”

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way.

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.”

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again.

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics.

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you.

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.”

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.”

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?”

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer.

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time.

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after.

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.”

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene.

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #lolbrosgetsicktoo

257 notes · View notes

permanentcrossfics · 3 years

Text

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room.

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with.

“Work trip? To Miami?”

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?”

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing.

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention?

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock.

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed.

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?”

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything.

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest.

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no.

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.”

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you.

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?”

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem.

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks.

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had….

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you.

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well.

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts.

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure.

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you.

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all.

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you.

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point.

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--”

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you.

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he?

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!”

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy.

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--”

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!”

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining.

“Fuck!”

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….”

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin.

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest.

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.”

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 1 #permanentcross #permanentcross fic #original writing

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sunatooru · 3 years

Note

Hi🥰i loved your blog! Can i request a headcanon for Asahi, Nishinoya and Kageyama (and maybe Aone if it's not too much) with a secret admirer who leaves chocolates and sweets (milk for kageyama) and cute notes to their desk like "don't forget to drink water today" "you look so cute today" "you make my heart go boom boom" or "Don't mind! You can work harder for the next match, i trust you!" if they lose a match. But somehow they never can caught her? Thank you!!!

Thank youuu xx I had to cut some parts so Tumblr could let me post it haha

Asahi

* You'd seen him around school before, I mean with his height it was hard to miss

* He seem so mature as if he had his life together, you thought he was cute but nothing worth acting upon

* Then one day he was standing at you classroom door stuttering as he ask if he could borrow spare notebooks

* You watched how he always had a soft yet nervous smile, how as intimidating as he seemed he was just a soft boy who didn't want to let others down

* When you heard about how all his spikes were getting shut down against Dateko, you took it into your hands to hold him up

* You would wake up a few minutes early to buy some treats to give to him

* You waited about 5 seconds at his desk before you chickened out and wrote down a quick notes next to the small tray of chocolate

* Cue panic 'Someone left their things on my desk' 'omg what if this was for someone else but got our desks confused' Yeah heart was pumping

* When he finally opened the letter he was shocked

* "Don't mind! All your spikes will make it next time, Ace x"

* But he didn't go back to the club so You would leave something every day

* "I'm sure you'll play again one day x"

* "You hair has gotten so long, it suits you x"

* He once saw you leave his classroom but didn't add the two as he nervously avoided your gaze

* And then the day finally arrives where he played once again

* "I told you, you're my ace! x"

* He's blushing hard at this. He kept all your notes, keeps one on him whenever he need reassurance

* And this time he writes something back

* "I hope to hear your voice one day"

Nishinoya

* The boy is grinning like full on cheeks in pain grinning

* "You're the best libero I've ever seen! You make my heart go boom boom boom"

* I'm telling you right now he's walking with so much suave the whole day

* He's showing off this note to everyoneeee

* Shows his bestie Tanaka and laughs at his friend getting jealous that he didn't receive a note too

* you would pick stuff up after school ( sleep just triumphs anything else ) But also you wanted to add a little touch to it, seeing as you wasn't ready to tell him things face to face

* So now you leave him a couple of lollipops and another note

* "You're very cute when you're happy"

* He looks forward to a note everyday now, he wants to know who you are

* Tried to use some weird tv tricks to uncover clues. Flopped of course

* And then the game against seijoh happened where they lost

* You could see the whole teams mood bring down, especially with Yuu it made your heart break

* The guy who was always lifting everyone up was trying so hard not to break

* You left a note "I know you'll win the next game!""

* He didn't come in that day but that didn't stop you

* "I can't wait to see you play again!"

* "I love how brave you are to receive like that. It's amazing!"

* You motivated him so much

* He couldn't let you down, he needs to be his best if he wants to meet you

* One day he came late and was only met by a note

* "I hope you enjoy this desert, it's actually my favourite"

* Huh? Where is it?

* Did someone take it? He's annoyed, he wanted to eat what you loved

* He sees Tanaka looking guilty

* He's trying to rolling thunder over Tanaka now (don't worry he kept your note safe)

Kageyama

* At first you was intimidated by him, his presence was just huge

* He would usually be alone and he didn't seem phased about it

* You found out he has a milk preference

* He was buying it from the vending machine everyday, you laughed at the boy with such a intimidating face who could become so soft from a simple drink like milk

* You started leaving notes for him and also bought him his milk drink every Monday (you'll be broke if you did everyday)

* "The vending machine is ripping you off! Here's some better and cheaper milk "

* Confused, what do you mean ripping off?

* And then he tasted the drink and fell in love (with the milk)

* "You're very skilled at setting"

* "You're weird quick is so cool!"

* "Don't forget to drink today!"

* Okay he's starting to like you now, he's not sure who to talk to about having a secret admirer (which is something he realised after his sister told him)

* "Kageyama how comes you always have a drink at your desk?" Hinata ask

* "Uhh someone leaves them here"

* "What??? Someone just buys you milk and that's it?"

* "Yeah"

* You accidentally forgot one day and he was really confused

* He was actually a little worried so he decided to leave a note at the end of the day

* "Hello there was no drink today and I hope you are okay. I mean the drink is not that important really but I did miss your note today - Tobio"

* You squealed when you read it

* "Sorry about yesterday! I'm okay and I missed not giving a note too "

* He's smiling as he drinks his milk

Aone

* Protect him at all costs! Please he's so sincere it makes me want to cry at people judging him by his appearance, he's a kind mannered boy and an absolute gentleman (unrelated but important)

* You absolutely adored him. You found him so interesting in how he wasn't a man of many words yet was so kind and respectful to others even if they are initially scared of him

* Your heart actually aches when you hear people speaking about him and how he needs to open up and be more social or else people will leave him (the urge to fight them is real)

* Once you saw him smile when Karasuno's Hinata spike won a game and you vowed to get him to smile like that again

* It started will a short note on his desk accompanied by a small tray of chocolates on a Friday

* "You're instincts as a middle blocker are so sharp! I hope you have a great day today"

* He was a bit hesitant with the gift but whispered a 'thank you' as he shared the chocolates around

* "I hope you like the chocolates. I just wanted to say I think you're very sweet x"

* Aww he's blushing

* He keeps this note. It made him happy so he's keeping it

* "Don't forget to drink water today as it's really hot! x"

* He listened to you, made sure to keep his water near him as you told him

* He now has an allocated section in his room that has all your notes

* He sometimes think about how you would sound like, he really wanted to meet the person who liked him in the way no other had, in the way he has never liked anyone else before

* You once left some food for lunch

* "Happy birthday! This is for you x"

* He was so happy like you took your time to cook for him specifically for his birthday

* Also, unknown to him, you could always know how he reacted to your gifts and notes thanks to your friend taking pictures for you

* You saved his reactions they same way he saved your notes

* One day when you was about to leave your note and gift you saw a wrapped up present

* "Thank you for treating me so kindly - Aone"

* This cutie made you lunch! And not just that, no no no, he bought a little teddy bear keyring!

* So now every time you go to leave something, he has left you something already

* Does he know who you are? No

* Will that stop him from falling for you? No

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #kageyama headcannon #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #aone drabble #aone x reader #aone headcanons #aone takanobu x reader #asahi x reader #asahi headcanons #asahi azume x reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya headcanons #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu x reader

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rantrambles · 3 years

Text

Ever get so upset you make a Tumblr account to vent?

I haven’t even listened to The Penumbra Podcast yet but it’s on my list because it’s insanely popular and the cosplays I’ve seen are hot as hell (A+ to all the cosplayers I’ve seen you’ve done great work). Now, with the recent news surrounding the podcast, I’ll wait till it’s done if I ever do get into it. I’m Asian and part of the LGBT community but I’m not nonbinary so I can’t say much about the trans represention in the art but I wanted to add my two cents on the matter as a person of color and someone examining the situation from the outside. Also, before I get deeply into it, I’m not the only person of color with opinions on this matter so if people have their own frustrations and criticism with the racism in The Penumbra Podcast and/or the new artist they hired, definitely listen to them too. These are my own personal opinions, and I’m sure other people will disagree and that’s fine. We’re all going to have different views on this so bear that in mind. Also, feel free to correct me or add anything if I’ve missed some information. Here’s a great breakdown of the whole situation for those that don’t know what happened. Finally, I was very hesitant to post this, but I felt it was important because I make a statement at the end on how race should be presented in a podcast format so if you are interested in making a podcast and want to have a diverse range of characters, please skip to the end to read those thoughts.

I’ll start off by saying, I’m not even that upset with the new artist that The Penumbra Podcast hired. I know that statement alone is controversial but I don't personally know them, and I’m not going to judge who they are as a person by a few pieces of art they’ve made. They are the least of the problems that I have here. Since the announcement and the backlash, I’ve been scrolling through the artist’s Instagram account and I can tell why people find the designs offensive, but I’m also comparing the designs to the artist’s other work, and I honestly believe that’s just their style. They’ve exaggerated the features of just about every character they’ve made, regardless of race or gender. From what I’ve seen the sharp angles and overly round curves in the anatomy that make some of the character’s features more jarring are how they prefer to draw. I’m sure they’re capable of drawing more realistic proportions but for the most part they’re art aims to call attention, be bold, and create distinguished features. Not inherently a bad thing on its own.

And yeah I’d understand the issue if this were a scenario where the artist heard how these characters acted in the podcast and thought “hey, obviously this character is a black woman because they are super strong and therefore must have big muscles, no other woman could look like that” or “hey, this character has to be Asian because they act super seductive sometimes better draw them as such.” But from my understanding the race was already decided by previous official artists and a general description of the characters were already generated by the audience, similar to how The Magnus Archives leaned towards drawing scrawny Jon with black, greying hair and dark skin. The new artists couldn’t really change those features even if those features aren’t described in canon because a depiction that strayed too far from popular fandom interpretation would make the character’s unrecognizable to the fanbase.

I think the reason this became such a big issue for most people is because the new Penumbra artist used their exaggerated art style when making these characters and people of color and nonbinary folks already see themselves drawn as these exaggerated caricatures all the time (with those images being used to further discriminate against them). I’m sure the artist didn’t mean for their art to be offensive, but that of course doesn’t change how it was received.

According to some, the poses and expressions the artists chose did not fully represent the characters entirely and only served to further perpetuate harmful stereotypes, and I’ll have to take their word for it because I still haven’t listened to the podcast so I have no idea how the characters act. But again much of the criticism is based on the one line-up and doing a deeper dive into the artist’s work I managed to find artwork that was much less offensive. Here some art where Vespa is depicted in a non-violent pose and one where Vespa is in a threatening pose but not an overly violent one. Here is Peter drawn in a non-seductive pose. Hopefully, the artist truly does keep the criticisms in mind as they work on the new official art. I’m just not the type of person that wants to get the pitchforks out and cause this particular person to lose a job they seemed really excited about over their old character line-up, especially when that person is also part of a marginalized group.

Again, that’s just my opinion on that particular artist. Those who are offended by their art are still valid in how they feel, and the artist should absolutely take their criticism to heart to better how they represent the characters.

What I’m more upset about is that I think The Penumbra Podcast should never have released official art for their characters in the first place and that’s their mistake that they refuse to own up about. They have made it clear that the story was never meant to portray characters of colors, a fact emphasized by the fact they hired mostly white actors from the start. They only started releasing art of the characters to get a profit. And the thing is they know what they did was wrong. All I had to do was search Penumbra Podcast racism and there is a note on their website saying that they archived some old official art.

“We have discontinued all Penumbra merchandise that uses the original character designs, and in the meantime, any profits on the sales of that merchandise will go to the For The Gworls project. We also realize that the depiction of these characters as POC, while not appropriate for us to use in our marketing and merchandise, has nonetheless become personally meaningful to many POC listeners. For that reason, and because we do not wish to distance ourselves from our mistake, we are keeping these images on our website for archival purposes. Though we do want to make it clear that many of the main/featured voice actors are white and that we did not write the characters to represent any specific POC experience, you are, as always, free to imagine these characters in any way that you like.”

I went to their shop and they still sell posters and pins with the character’s faces on them, but they are donating it to a good cause so hopefully that stays the same. However, I still find it a little uncomfortable that they are still selling character merch and have plans to continue selling character merch. They have no right to dissuade the fans that already found representation in the characters, but they also have no right to profit off the representation that was built, regardless if they made the story.

Let’s compare this to another piece of popular media. I love Avatar the Last Airbender and, I liked the ATLA voice actors just fine but there should have been more people of color doing voice acting behind the screen too. The voice actors for that show were mainly white too, however, the creators knew that they would be making poc characters. That’s what makes the difference. Did they still choose to go with mostly white voice actors? Yes. Could they have done better and pay more people of color? Also yes. But I’m not as furious at them because they did their research on the cultures they were basing the ATLA world off of and intentionally gave us a show where Asians could see characters that looked like them represented on the screen. The Penumbra Podcast did not do any of that. Again, they openly admitted that it was never their intention to make the character’s people of color when they made the podcast so that goes to show no research was made to properly represent specific cultures. The color of the character’s skin in their official designs therefore became more of aesthetic choice rather than representation, and it wasn’t even their aesthetic choice to begin with!

Race isn’t a color you can just throw onto the character because you feel like it. So I want this to be a lesson to anyone that wants to make a podcast: if you want to include poc characters please do some research into the cultures you plan to represent the way you would with any other form of media. Just because the audience can’t see the characters and just because it’s harder to smoothly introduce the character’s appearance doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be lazy on how you present the characters. Do research before you start writing the first episode and take the time to hire poc actors. Hiring poc actors is actually the least that can be done to show representation. Also, since the audience cannot visually see the race of the characters on a podcast and it can’t typically be described the way you would in a book, you’ll have to be creative. It’s not my job to say how, but my suggestions would be, before the fans come up with their own image of the character, you need to establish race in the first few episodes or release character profiles on a website so that the fans know you canonically intended the characters to be of a certain race even if you aren’t able to mention it in the actual podcast. If you are unwilling to do any of these then the best route is to avoid stating race at all and allow the audience to build their own representation into your form of media. However, once this happens, you are not allowed to profit off popular fan interpretations. You lose all rights to create official art or images of the characters. You cannot use “we have a diverse cast of characters” when you market your story. It doesn’t matter whether you created the content or not, you did not create the representation for those minority groups.

It’s one thing for fans to build their own inclusivity into a form of art like a podcast, but it’s another thing for the creators who never worked to make the representation happen to take advantage of the representation that the listeners built for themselves. Thank you for attending my TedTalk.

#the penumbra podcast #podcast #race #the magnus archives #diversity in podcasts #diversity #tpp #tpp fanart

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 years

Text

Live Stream Murderer (Part 1) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture?

A/N: Tumblr won’t let me tag you, but I’m sorry for the long wait! I decided to put this into 2 or 3 parts, hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy!! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You and the team exited the SUV and headed into the hotel. It had been a long and exhausting day for all of you. The day had brought you no closer to finding the unsub. The city sheriff had called the BAU in for help in solving who was behind the live stream murders. So far that hadn’t been another victim since the BAU arrived, but you all figured a victim would be found soon considering he only keeps the women for 36 hours.

You all had nicknamed the unsub, “The Live Stream Murderer.” So far, the only leads you have been what he’d left behind; the videos of the kills. He would torture the women for 36 hours and so far, all of them had died in the end and been dumped. What the BAU hadn’t found out was why this guy was doing this. There were no clues in the videos in why, even Penelope was at a loss.

“Shit.” You muttered as you searched your purse. Did you leave your phone back at the station?

“What’s up?” Spencer had stopped to face you, the rest of the team heading inside.

“My phone.” You groaned, “it’s not in here. I must have left it at the station..”

“Maybe you left it in the car?” Spencer suggests.

“Maybe..” You sigh and glance back at the SUV parked at the corner, “I’ll go check.”

“I’ll go with you.” He kindly offers, “It’s late.”

You waved him off, “No it’s fine. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be up in a second. Just let JJ know.”

He’s hesitant to leave you, “Okay.. just be careful.” He takes one more glance at the SUV and surrounding areas for any signs of danger. There wasn’t anyone around. He waited at the door to make sure you got to the vehicle safely and then proceeded toward the elevators where the rest of the BAU was waiting.

“Where’s y/l/n?” Rossi asks.

“She couldn’t find her phone, so she went back to the SUV to check.”

Everyone nodded, too tired to even think of what kinds of dangers could be lurking for you around the corner.

“damn it.” You huff in anger at no sign of the phone. “Where the hell..” You bent over to investigate under the passenger seat and spotted the phone. “There you are.” You mutter grabbing it.

He watched from the corner. Your back was to him and you were preoccupied with searching the vehicle to even notice as he approached. He’d seen you on the news this morning and his heart yearned for you. All the other women he’d chosen hadn’t been worthy. They weren’t strong enough to withstand life, withstand the torture and pain he provided. But you, you had potential. He just knew as a BAU agent you were strong. Maybe strong enough to be his soulmate.

His wife had died in a car accident. She’d been the love of his life, but she hadn’t been strong enough to endure the pain. He needed someone to be able to endure the pain so that he wouldn’t have to go through that loss again and you were a potential match.

You’d seen his reflection in the window when you’d shut the door, but it’d been too late; your reflexes were slow and exhausted. He’d grabbed the back of your head and slammed it into the window, leaving a crack the side of your head. You were knocked out instantly.

Spencer’s fingers tapped against his chest as he laid in bed. He wondered if you’d made it back to you and JJ’s room yet.

“Reid.. go to sleep.” Morgan grumbled from the other bed. He was sharing a room with Morgan, which was the usual, “Your finger tapping and foot shaking is distracting.”

“You think she made it back to her room?” Spencer voices his concern, glancing at Morgan.

“I’m sure she’s fine and sleeping peacefully. Like you should be doing.” He groans, turning over.

Spencer sighed before staring up at the ceiling again. He was right. They’d had a long day and sleep was needed right now if they wanted to be sharp and finally catch the Live Stream Murderer. He turned over and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong.

The next morning when everyone was to meet in the lobby for breakfast, JJ was already there, but you weren’t.

“Where’s y/n?”

JJ stirred her coffee, “Thought she got up early this morning before I did. She may be in the gym or something.” JJ wasn’t bothered by it. You were usually up before her and she knew you could take care of yourself.

“I’ll go check.” Spencer heads that way but when he arrives at the gym, it’s empty. Don’t panic, Spencer. I’m sure she’s fine. He says to himself.

He hated to think the worst but ever since Maeve, he can’t help it. It had been a method of protecting himself to think the worst first, so he’d be prepared if had come to it. You’d been his saving grace and pulled him from a dark place after it happened. He told himself he wouldn’t pass up another opportunity to tell you how he really feels, but he never found the time right.

“Find her?” Hotch asks, glancing at his watch, “It’s time to go.”

“Gym was empty.”

“Maybe she got an early start at the station?” Rossi offers as they head toward the door.

Spencer pulls his phone out of his bag and dials your number as you all walk toward the SUV. Your cellphone rang nearby.

“I hear her-” Spencer started to say, but he’d stopped and seen what the team did.

There were your belongings on the ground beside the SUV and blood between the cracks in the window, but you were nowhere to be found.

The team had split up to look around the corners and in between buildings but there was no sign of you at all. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her out here alone.” Spencer points to the SUV, “I made sure she made it to the car safe and then I just left. I left her.”

“Kid, you can’t blame yourself for this.” Morgan tries to reason, “It’s not going to help us find her.”

Hotch’s phone rings, “Penelope.” He announces to the team before answering and putting her on speaker, “Hello?”

“t-the live stream! Y/n. She’s on the live stream. It’s everywhere!” Penelope quickly spits out. The team hadn’t had the chance to tell Penelope the news so imagine the shock it gave Penelope when she opened her computers at work to find her best friend plastered all over the internet.

Spencer’s already pulling it onto his phone and he almost wants to vomit at the sight. You were tied to a chair and screaming in pain as a man in a black hood pressed a hot poker into your leg.

“You son of a bitch!” You spit out to him, “I’ll kill you! I swear it!”

There was a small pile of blood under your chair and he could see the knife in the side of your leg, positioned to make sure there wasn’t any major arteries hit.

“oh god.” Penelope cried over the phone.

Hotch, the one who usually was strong and never let anything bother him actually pulled his eyes away from the phone and clinched his eyes shut. To see a member of his team in that kind of position, that kind of torture made him want to vomit. “Garcia, pinpoint the live stream.”

“Y-yes sir.. I’ve been trying all morning but it’s bouncing off everywhere that there isn’t even a small area I can pinpoint it too.”

According to the timer at the bottom of the screen the live stream had been going on for 8 hours. Which meant there was only 28 hours to find you. He just hoped you were strong enough to last through the torture that long.

“We have to find her.” Spencer chokes out, looking up at the team, who wear the same face of disgust and fear for their team member. “I can’t lose someone else.”

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17 , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant) , @bluerose512 , @lolychu , @varsityalthete , @tylers-missing-car-radio

*if your name is crossed out, tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you.

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

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lovelyspencers · 3 years

Text

Both Sides Like Chanel

“I see both sides like chanel,

see on both sides like chanel.”

Synopsis: Spencer and fem!Reader have been dating for a while now and there is something that Spencer hasn’t trusted anyone else with that he wants to share with her

Content Warning: mentions of drug addiction, allusions to sex, brief mention of internalized homophobia

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: this is my first fanfiction and I’m not entirely sure how tumblr works yet but it is my mission to do something about the lack of bi!Spencer representation

Compared to his colleagues and friends, Spencer was a fairly private person. He liked to keep things to himself because his life centered around repetitious disappointments. So, he was content that his private life was not set on a stage, his misery displayed for everyone to see.

But then he fell in love with you the minute you walked into the bullpen and bumped into him, leaving your belongings all scattered on the marble floor. Spencer was never one for touch but when he took your hand to sweep you off the ground, butterflies filled his stomach like the air on a humid summer’s day.

After a few years of friendship, his adoration for you grew as easily as ivy on an abandoned house and it was on New Year’s Day that the team celebrated in Rossi’s mansion that his slightly intoxicated self decided that he was not able to hold it in any longer.

You had sneaked off to Rossi’s backyard after Garcia had gotten a bit of too affectionate and randomly started kissing everyone.

Both of you were slightly buzzed, your head laid in his lap as he explained the constellations to you. He wished that the sky above you was the only thing that filled his mind, but when he looked at you with your skin slightly flustered from the alcohol and your lips pursed as in deep thought, all that he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you.

It wasn’t the first time, the thought floated around in his mind. It had been so crucial in fact that the thought of your lips softly pressed on his played in his head like a film reel every night, unable to give him the sweet escape of sleep.

So, when the blank sky was filled with multicolored fireworks, the moonlight illuminated the complexion of your face and cheers erupted from the silence surrounding you without a second thought, he leaned in to kiss you.

You tasted like champagne and the strawberry lipstick you obsessively put on whenever you got anxious and to Spencer, he felt as if he had found the missing puzzle piece he’d been seeking for all his life.

And then like they always did, his thoughts began rushing through his mind like cars during rush hour and he instantly pulled back.

You were gonna hate him and then he would lose the only person he trusted with all his being and maybe you’d tell Penelope and everyone would laugh at him for believing that someone as amazing as you would ever-

But before his poisonous thoughts got the best of him, you grabbed the sides of his face and connected your lips with his again, filling the entirety of his body with pure bliss.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you to do that.” Your voice vibrated against his lips and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his face in the process.

The two of you could have kissed for only seconds or even hours because as he finally experienced what it felt like to be utterly yours, none of the things surrounding you mattered to him in the slightest.

All that mattered was that his biggest dream of your heart belonging to him entirely finally came true and he had no intention to ever let it go.

But even the most perfect moments couldn’t last forever and in this case, it was disturbed in the figment of the people the two of you considered family.

At first, you both didn't notice the footsteps on the grass, too caught up in trying to pour every stolen glance and hidden adoration in the simplicity of a kiss.

It wasn’t until cheers filled the silence around you that you hesitantly broke apart and were greeted with the sight of the team who all had smirks plastered on their faces.

To his delight, you didn’t entirely pull away from him like he thought you would instead you got off his lap to lazily wrap your arms around his torso. Subconsciously he pressed a kiss to your temple erupting even more amusement from the people watching you.

“About damn time.” Emily was the first to break out of her trance. Soon, congratulations were shared and the team tried to discreetly exchange money since they seemed to have some kind of bet going on. Even Hotch had a rare smile on his face and it was without a doubt the most beautiful start in the new year he could have ever wished for.

“I love you,” you muttered as you hid your face in his chest, and though there was no way the team could have heard what you told him, the smile on his face told them everything they needed to know.

“I love you too.”

He wished more than anything else that your love story could have ended that way and you lived happily ever after but this wasn’t a movie and the truth was that relationships were work. Work he was more than willing to put effort in but work nonetheless.

You loved each other dearly but you weren’t perfect and neither was he. Most of your fights revolved around his fear of vulnerability and even though he spent years building a wall around his heart so no one could ever shatter it again, he loved you far more than his self preservation so he tried his hardest.

And there was one particular thing, he always wanted to tell you or anyone who he felt earned his trust.

Throughout his life, his trust had been broken many times. So without even realizing it, there was a barrier between the two of you that prevented him from loving you to the fullest and he hated it.

But unlike Derek who immediately spread his problems around like it was just some gossip printed on the sixth page or JJ who kept Emily’s well-being to herself despite him coming to cry to her for months, you never betrayed his trust.

Even more so, you didn’t have that look of pity in your eyes that was equally as painful as daggers in his chest when he told you about his drug addiction or the schizophrenia of his mother.

You were easily the person on earth that he trusted the most but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some things that he still kept to himself.

But as he said, he wanted to change that and if one person was deserving of his honesty and vulnerability it was you.

Spencer had told you about his father leaving, the horrors he had to face that still haunted him in his dreams, his kidnapping from Tobias Hankel, and the cruelty of a childhood as a child prodigy.

While what he wanted to tell you wasn’t nearly as heavy it still felt like dead weight continuing to weigh him down.

Every time, he came close to telling you the truth, he got scared like a child in the dark and switched topics to something that didn’t matter at all.

Spencer also knew that you were aware that something was off. Before you started dating ten months ago, you had been best friends for years so he can positively say that you know him better than anybody else.

But today he had a plan.

You had been wanting to watch ‘Love, Simon’ with him for weeks and he had tried to avoid it for obvious reason but today he’d watch it with you and maybe then he’d gain the courage to talk to you.

He was aware of how illogical his fears were, after all, you had always been open about your bisexuality and had seen you beat up homophobes on various occasions (while Hotch hated it, it was on the long list of things that Spencer loved about you).

But he feared that maybe you wouldn’t want to be with someone who liked men and women or maybe that just didn’t fit with the type of man you were looking for or maybe-

Nope, he wasn’t doing this to himself. You were the kindest, most open hearted and loving person he knew and he had told you far more break up worthy thing than his sexuality.

When he had told you about his past drug addiction, you pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and kissed the fainting scars there and helped him get rid of the small stack of Dilaudid that he had kept hidden in his closet without any sign of judgment.

When he had told you about his mother, you pulled his head on your lap and started playing with his hair until the tears on his face dried and pinky promised him that you would stay with him even if he inhabited his mother’s illness because there was nothing that you would ever let drive a wedge between the two of you.

When he had told you about his childhood and confided in you for the relentless bullying he had to endure after you had found an invitation to a high school reunion in his mailbox, you had peppered him with kisses the entire night and showered him with compliments and love.

Not to mention that you convinced him to go to the high school reunion where everyone seemed equally as impressed by the beauty that his girlfriend possessed and the nature of his job. And every time, you sensed that he was uncomfortable you held his hand and wordlessly pulled him away, because you simply understood him like that.

The first night you slept over, he was more anxious over you sleeping next to him than the actual act of having sex with you (which said a lot because in a moment of desperation he had even asked Derek for sex advice) because he knew that the nightmares would jolt him awake again.

But it was so easy to be with you and when he pulled your body into his and showed you just how much he loved you in the most intimate act there was, all worries (and crappy advice that Derek had given him) left his mind and were quickly replaced by pure bliss and escasty.

And when he woke up shaking because some monsters don’t stay hidden in the dark, you were right there to comfort him until he was able to safely fall asleep with your arms wrapped around his waist.

Spencer was jolted back to reality when there was a knock on his door and he immediately wrapped you in a bone crushing hug before pouring all his worries and love into a kiss.

“We literally saw each other at work today. Did you really miss me that much already?” Your laughter that had become Spencer’s favorite sound ever since the first time he heard it filled the room, and he had to fight the urge to drop his plans and just worship you and your body for the entirety of the evening instead.

No, he was a man on a mission and he had repressed this conversation for way too long.

“I always miss you.”

And it was true, embarrassingly so. When you were on a case, Hotch decided against giving the two of you a shared hotel room, and every time, he had to fall asleep without your body heat next to him he felt as if there was some part of himself missing.

You gave him a peck on the cheek before you intertwined your fingers with Spencer’s and lead him to his couch where you rather ungracefully plumped down.

He joined you and your head immediately landed on his lap as a silent invitation for him to play with your hair which he happily obliged to.

“Can we watch ‘Love, Simon’ today?”

“Yes! I’ve only been begging you to watch it for years,” you laughed while grabbing the hand that wasn’t massaging your temple and holding it in yours.

He laughed too but it was filled with anxiety and you heard it because of course you did. Others might no be able to make out when he was uncomfortable but you always knew when to press him and when to leave him alone.

“We don’t have to watch that movie if you really don’t want to, babe,” you said as you propped yourself up to sit next to him again, all while never letting go of his hand.

“It’s not that. I just-”

Well, it’s now or never.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurted out, surprising himself with the sudden statement, and when he hesitantly locked eyes with yours there was none of the judgment or disgust he feared.

There was just love and understanding like there always was.

You were just about to say something before he gave you a look that clearly signaled to just let him talk for a bit and you answered the silent request with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze on his hand.

“I don’t know, I just used to have this crush on a boy when I was younger and I was confused because I only ever saw heterosexual couples, you know?” You nodded and that reassuring smile on your face never seemed to falter even a little bit, you looked almost proud of him.

“And then I got older and I started liking women too and I was even more confused because like who exactly do I like now?”

Sometimes during meetings in the briefing room or on the jet, you randomly held hands and squeezed them three time as a reminder that you loved each other without having to actually say it and that’s what you did during the brief amount of silence.

“When I was in high school liking boys was always associated with something bad so I just assumed that it was bad and tried my hardest to just suppress it.”

Spencer squeezed your hand three times too and took a deep breath. Seemed that even a genius like him could miscalculate and in this case it was the toll this secret had on him.

“But then I got older and realized that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, and so I kind of accepted it even though I still had no idea what my sexuality was. It was just one of those I’ll deal with it later type of things.”

When he looked into your eyes again, you looked at him with so much tenderness that he felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest, even if that was biologically impossible.

“I had a boyfriend when I was in college, his name was Ethan and I loved him but it just didn’t work out. I never told anyone because I was afraid I think?”

He remembered the time of sneaking around and lying to his mother when she spotted a hickey on his neck during one of her visits, the frustration because all he wanted was to show the world the love they shared like every other ordinary couple.

But he also remembered the clandestine meetings, muttered I love you’s that were for no one else to hear and the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

“And then I was confused again because I still liked women too and then I met you and I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you honestly and then I thought that maybe it was just like a non-sexual thing but I am sexually attracted to you, I mean we have sex. I like having sex with you!”

You chuckled but it was not out of malice or disgust it was just there, floating in the air filling his body with a warmth that not even his thickest sweater could provide.

“Baby, breathe. It’s just me.”

You brought his knuckles up to your mouth to press a kiss to each of them and that simple gesture managed to calm Spencer’s nerve immensely.

“You were so open with your sexuality and I guess it just kind of made sense? And I know that some women have problems with men who like men and maybe you’re disgusted with me because I used to be with a man and I’m like not the manliest man and and sometimes I think about painting my nails because it seems kind of fun and-”

The thing about Spencer’s rambling was that he couldn’t stop. He wanted to especially when he saw the annoyance on everyone’s faces but you were always there to listen to him, even if you had no idea what he was talking about but as you felt his anxiety worsen with every word that left his lips, you interrupted him for the first time ever.

“I’m not disgusted at all. I love and accept everything about you and that includes your sexuality. Thank you for being open with me, I know hard that can be with for you. I’m very proud of you.”

You emphasized your statement by pulling him in for a kiss and that was the first time that Spencer noticed that he was crying, but you kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, wordlessly wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“You’re the most perfect man I know. I don’t care if you’re not the most manliest man to me you’re perfect and the love of my life,” you whispered against his lips and Spencer could only reply by deepening the kiss and trying to get you as close to him as humanly possible.

There was no rush or expectations, you were kissing as if you had every time in the world and the kiss was a silent promise that you still loved him no matter what.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Spencer could finally breathe. Silence filled the room but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. You had placed Spencer’s head on your chest and played with his hair while occasionally peppering him with kisses, only a few reassurances and I love you’s accompanying the stirring DVD player.

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to paint your nails?” you asked after a few minutes passed and Spencer had wrapped his arms around your waist as if you were the anchor to a sinking ship.

Spencer chuckled not even remembering what he said during his ramble. “I guess so. Why?”

The thought did cross his mind from time to time, especially when he saw your impressive collection of various nail polish. He never cared much about other’s perception of his masculinity and Spencer realized that his fair of not being manly enough for you was nothing but utterly stupid.

“Do you want me to do it?”

He shyly nodded and a smile filled your face as you took his hand to examine it, probably debating in your head which colour would fit him most.

And as you left the room to search for the most beautiful purple you could find, Spencer sat in the living room, happiness spreading through every fiber of his being because for the first time he knew what it felt like to be unconditionally loved.

Both of you weren’t perfect but there were no more secrets left lurking in the shadows and he knew that as long as you wanted him, he’d always be yours.

You were the first person to truly accept and love him. All of him, and he never wanted to lose that.

As he sat in the living room, you sitting on his lap and looked at your fingers as you painted his in a dark shade of purple, he decided that it wouldn’t be long until the most beautiful ring he could find would adorn your ring finger.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #my writing #mgg fic #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabbles #spencer reid one shots #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #bisexual spencer reid

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nox-artemis · 3 years

Text

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

#berserk #berserk stuff #kentaro miura #rip kentaro miura

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theskywaslookingback · 3 years

Note

tma fic recs please ? 🤲🏽

Oooooo yes! I never get asks like this, thank you!

[my tumblr fic recs tag is here for browsing]

I had to put it under a cut because it got...entirely too long barely half an hour into making it, sorry.

Under 5k

means of cartharsis by orphan_account [G] [965]

“You’d think – you’d that at this point nightmares would be second nature for me, hm?” Martin says, forcing a smile even as he tugs the blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

It’s meant to be a bit funny. Instead of laughing, though, Jon frowns.

“No,” he says simply, and matter-of-factly wipes the moisture from Martin’s cheeks with a tissue like he’s a crying child.

A Proper Sleepover by Goodluckdetective (scorpiantales) [T] [1.4k]

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

where i go, when i go there by rainny_days [T] [1.7k]

Martin wants Jon to hold his hand. Martin doesn't want Jon to hold his hand.

It's complicated.

all the other ways by AptlyNamed [G] [2.2k]

Jon loses his first soul mark when he is eight years old.

a palace from ruin by bibliocratic [G] [2.2k]

"What're you sorry for?” Martin asks.

“I should have asked,” Jon says finally. “I'd never.... you were always so private about him, so I mean, at first I wasn't sure he was even yours, but then – when you, when you went with Peter, and I – he was so small, and I thought he was h-half-dead. S-so I picked him up and I carried him. And I'm sorry.”

interiors by doomcountry [T] [2.7k]

In the doorway, he fumbles with his keys. Their sound is loud in the silent stairwell. You don’t remember getting here.

searching for a light (for a right) by Kalgalen [T] [2.7k]

Some people make the mistake of assuming he's naive about sex, for the simple reason he hasn't dated in a while. Tim has called him a prude, at one point, and implied that he was somehow afraid of the intimacy required by the act; he wasn’t entirely wrong, but this definitely isn’t the reason for Jon's disinterest and general bafflement toward what most people seemed to consider as "what makes them human".

Jon simply hasn't found the right person. That is all it is: high standards, and a reticence to let people in.

(In which Jon finds out society is wrong about what a romantic relationship should be.)

how to plant a garden in rocky soil by treeprince [T] [2.9k]

Sometimes you just need a good pair of hands to work out all the kinks in your life.

Good thing Martin has two.

A Weather In The Flesh by cuttooth [G] [3k]

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

I'll bring the motion by callmearctus [T] [3.1k]

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

A Bread Made In Heaven by Againstme [G] [3.3k]

Martin moves over and watches how his boyfriend handles the dough. He's awkward with it, tentative and gentle, as if he's scared of hurting it somehow.

"Is this, uh, am I doing this right?" Jon asks, still slowly stretching out the dough and folding it onto itself.

"Well," he says shifting closer to Jon again, "you could be applying more pressure. Here, let me help you out, dear."

Martin moves fully behind Jon, and reaches around him, putting his hands on top of his boyfriend's. Jon inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else, just lets Martin's hand rest on top of his.

Martin's hands are bigger, but not big enough to entirely envelop the other's hands, and Jon's hands are much, much warmer than his own are. To see what they're doing, Martin moves his head to look over Jon's shoulder. Though he can't see his boyfriend's face from this angle, he can see how it is slowly growing red at the edge of his vision. He decides not to tease him on it, instead content with letting a smile spread across his face and slowly guiding their joined hands in the proper motion.

Or, Martin teaches Jon how to make bread.

stumbling and spinning by lady_mab [G] [3.3k]

“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.”

“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.”

It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]

“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.

nothing sweeter than local honey by beeclaws [T] [3.4k]

So Tim is content, one arm leaned into the spray, waiting for the water to warm, enjoying the feeling of homecoming underneath the gentle fuzz of jetlag, when he hears gasping, panicked breaths coming from the other room.

Tim and Jon, in the aftermath, relearning how to be okay.

When Words are Inadequate by Mugatu [T] [3.8k]

Meals and the preparation of are, for want of a better word, informative. Fact gathering. A place where they can fill in the gaps of their knowledge of the other.

Jon cooks for Martin, and they learn more about each other.

go softly by doomcountry [T] [4k]

And there is nothing else besides this.

Imago by cuttooth [T] [4k]

“Jon?” he asks tentatively, tightening his grip around the poker as it slips against his sweaty palm. The antennae twitch, and suddenly Martin knows that it’s Jon, the knowledge sliding into his mind in a surge of desperate affection, the same profound love he felt that first time he truly saw Jon in the fog of the Lonely.

“Oh,” he whispers. “It really is you.”

Jon changes, but he’s still the same to Martin.

shoreline by bibliocratic [G] [4.1k]

“Martin," Tim says kindly, tipsily, only mildly slurring. "Dearest, dearest Martin. You're wankered, babe. Last train to Stockwell fucked off hours ago because it is now piss off o'clock in the morning, and there's a sofa with your exact name on it at my place. Thought you said you wanted some handsome fellow to take you back to his tonight?”

Or: The OG Archive crew go drinking, Martin comes out, and gets some well deserved TLC. In that order.

get your epitaph right by bibliocratic [G] [4.2k]

Martin's daemon has tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

i've known the warmth of your doorways by beeclaws [T] [4.2k]

'I’m always in pain, Jon wants to say, even as he dismisses the thought as melodramatic. Between his growing collection of old wounds and scar tissue, the supernatural hunger for statements that hasn’t been truly satiated in months, and the unpredictable aches and strains his body threw off day by day long before he ever set foot in the Institute, some level of pain and discomfort follows Jon wherever he goes now. He is used to being in pain. He’s not used to someone holding his hand as he suffers through it.'

Jon catalogs the comforts he receives, and wonders how long he will be allowed to keep them.

lay down your weary head by Zykaben [T] [4.6k]

Jon has been running himself ragged, searching for every scrap of information he can possibly find about the Unknowing. He's exhausted and sleep-deprived but he can't bring himself to take a break, not now.

Luckily, Tim and Martin are there to make sure that their boyfriend gets the care and rest he needs.

only the sweetest words remain by bluejayblueskies [T] [4.6k]

This isn't how things are supposed to go, right? Jon remembers those ratty paperbacks from the charity shops, dime-a-dozen romance novels with broken bindings and yellowing pages and words that spoke of love and passion and sexuality in prose that was more than a bit too mature for someone whose age hadn’t yet reached double digits. Stolen glances turn into dinner dates turn into passionate kisses turn into…

Well, he’d never actually read those parts of the books, because it had all seemed so deeply uncomfortable and gross. But he got the picture.

Or, Jonathan Sims, on being loved

5k-20k

and they keep not letting go by Marianne_Dashwood [G] [5k]

It’s an electric feeling, something strange and new and familiar all at once, even though he has been holding Martin’s hand for most of the day. His stomach swoops, like he is standing on the edge of the precipice of realisation and staring into the void of unknowing. But at the same time, he does know. In this instant of contact between them, the last few years of cups of tea and small smiles and momentary glances, of panic and fear and only feeling safe with Martin’s solid presence in the room, despite his paranoia, rush into him, and oh, oh oh.

ready to call this love by yewgrove [G] [5.6k]

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99 [T] [6k]

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

This Must Be The Place by cuttooth [T] [6k]

“You said – you said we were going home,” Martin says softly.

“I did,” says Jon, and is grateful that Martin doesn’t comment on him calling the Archives home. “I – I don’t really know where to go. I, uh, I don’t have a flat anymore, I don’t think. We could find a hotel?”

“Let’s go to my place,” says Martin. His hand squeezes Jon’s, more gently than before. Most importantly, Jon notes, he doesn’t let go.

Jon and Martin go home for a little while.

Small Things, Simple Acts by ZaliaChimera [T] [6.6k]

Even after leaving London, Jon and Martin are not free, not really. Maybe they never will be.

But for now they can be themselves, and maybe in the end, that's enough.

house by tomatoes [G] [9k]

Martin can take care of himself.

roses, roses, roses by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) [T] [9.3k]

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2 [G] [9.6k]

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

Inseparable by voiceless_terror [T] [10.3k]

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

i'm almost me again, you're almost you by gruhukens [G] [12k]

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite [T] [15.8k]

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Over 20k

The Kindness of Strangers by TheOestofOCs [M] [23k]

It was easier to treat Jon like a monster when he wasn’t shivering against his back, brokenly humming—wait, was that…

“Are you trying to do ‘Hey, Jude’?” Tim demanded.

Jon stopped, stiffening. “Mm hrmh mm mmh hm,” he said defensively.

“You really can’t hold a tune, can you, boss?”

It was just an ordinary walk to a restaurant. Tim had insisted that if they were going to talk, there would be no tape recorders or weird Archives ghosts listening in. A bit of fresh air wouldn’t kill him, Tim had said. What could go wrong?

By the time Jon spots the white delivery van, it’s much too late.

The Stranger kidnaps Jon. Tim comes along for the ride.

Misjudged by ShastaFirecracker [T] [36.5k]

Martin's been a longtime listener of What the Ghost, so when Georgie gives a shoutout to her flatmate's Twitch channel during a Q&A, he checks it out - only to discover that her flatmate is also his most terrifying coworker at his new job. The first time they crossed paths, Jon yelled at him for incompetence. But on the streams, Martin sees an entirely different person - someone fun and relaxed, engaging and unfairly attractive. Over time, Martin begins to find that Jon buried inside his dour, awkward coworker. He also learns to live with the fact that his crush is painfully one-sided... or is it?

if we make it through the night everyone is gonna hear us (Series) by skvadern [Ratings Vary] [42.4k]

In which Sasha survives the NotThem (with a little help from a certain Distortion) and she and Jon spend s2 working together to try and make sense of everything that's happening to them. It goes...interestingly

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic [T] [49.7k]

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

it's only forever by lady_mab [T] [50.9k]

“The castle at the center of the labyrinth,” Jon breathes, recalling again the words from one of the past conversations with Martin. “He’s there.”

“Turn back, Jonathan,” the Goblin King says, and Jon is surprised to hear a slight edge of desperation in the tone. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jon answers with the same tone. “You know that I can’t.”

The Goblin King’s grin is gone completely, and he regards Jon with a degree of pity before that melts into resignation.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey [T] [53.3k]

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop [T] [151k]

It was completely fine that Jon was following up on this very normal, non-supernatural statement at midnight on a Friday. He was going to find nothing at all, and then he was going to go home and sleep for fourteen straight hours and feel absolutely no qualms about moving case #0150409 directly into the filing cabinet marked "discredited".

Or; Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

RATED E *MINORS DNI*

A Look And A Voice by cuttooth [E] [6.9k]

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Jon asks bluntly, and for a second Martin can’t breathe.

“It - it doesn’t matter what I - ” he begins valiantly, before Jon interrupts him.

“Because I want to have sex with you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if you think it’s for the wrong reasons. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. The only thing that matters is if you want to as well.”

Martin meets a guy in a bar and takes him home.

Warms The Coldest Night by cuttooth [E] [11k]

"Flame that warms the coldest night Bring to us the waxing Light, Be with us on Solstice Night." Gypsy - Bring Back The Light

There is mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the Archives when Jon gets in.

Curiosity by ShastaFirecracker [E] [11.6k]

“You know that conversation we had the other day about how one of the most important things for queer youth to learn is that it's okay to change their minds, because identity and self-discovery are always fluid?”

Behind him, Martin slipped oven mitts over his hands and pulled open the oven door. The scent of garlic and rosemary flooded the kitchen. “Yeah?” he said.

“I, um... I'd like to revisit the topic of sex.”

At the Interim (Series) by Rend_Herring [E] [41k]

A Measure Outside the Lines and The Residuum

triptych (Series) by Stacicity [E] [44.9k]

A collection of Jon/Tim/Martin fics

a steady hand, a delicate man by callmearctus [E] [52.8k]

Martin is the proprietor and manager of a very discrete and fairly exclusive brothel situated between Belgravia and Chelsea. Blackwood House excels at special requests and pleasing any client.

Except for Jon, who probably has never been pleased a day in his entire life.

Despite that, he still comes back. It eventually begs the question: how do you solve a problem like Jon Sims?

#statement ends #anonymous #fic recs #save #((this took me like two hours lmaooooo))

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