i think you can guess why it's in black and white

Okay listen up losers I'm about to prove a fucking point.

So my presentation will be about proving season 3 Shiro is a clone and why DreamWorks made it too easy. I rewatched a crapton on episodes to make this, I need to sleep. 

If you guys didn’t notice the first thing Clone Shiro, umm wait imma call him Kuro Kuro looks at is his hand and a Galra symbol.

And that in and of itself is a big clue because there’s already a lot of meaning behind that since season 2. In which, Hunk and that team discussed how the arm can be used against them.

Memory is key! How could Galra have Shiro’s memories? The arm! Like Hunk said, if it could create memories than it’s pretty safe to say it can record them too.

Linking that with the shot of the Galra emblem is a huge deal in symbolism. Trust me I’m an English major, I deal with this shit all the time.

(I’m writing this on my laptop and phone at the same time, godspeed)


Speaking of symbolism, Ulaz made an appearance when Kuro was dazed



(Is that even Ulaz? I can’t tell I’m bad with faces)

This does two things. Reaffirm Kuro’s undying trust with his arm, and make a connection with Galra as a comrade. Lemme explain;

During Shiro’s ‘I can suddenly remember shit’ scene in season 2? He die-hard believes the memories are his and not a [insert dream here] from Galra, by showing him Ulaz they are trying to recreate that same feeling.

By showing him a Galra (regardless of being evil or not) you’re connecting the dots with trust.

That could be a good reason why the Galra decided to give Shiro a weaponized arm in the first place. Why would they power him up for shits and giggles? Haggard herself even said this:

(Bitch, no thanks.) They wouldn’t have given him a cool fighting arm just so he could be cooler in the arena. That’s fucking idiotic to arm a prisoner. (sorry)

This wouldn’t even be the first time Haggard had some evil version of Shiro

Remember this scene from season 1? Cuz I sure fucking do.

Speaking of that arm, why would they take it in the first place? Listen, it’s already pretty fishy they gave him a super arm but why would they take it at all? Dare I say, D N A ?

This leads me back to this scene here:

Why would Kuro hurt himself? A French term can explain this, ‘L’appel du vide’ translation: The call of the void. Basically, your brain is telling you to self-destruct in order to take control of a situation.  Now we already discussed how the Galra controls his brain sort of so that’s that.

Now I know what you’re saying: Oh! But that’s so he could close the wound!!

Listen, man, I did training with an Army doctor on quick fixes for medical emergencies. Now I’m not saying I’m an expert cuz I’m not, but if Kuro did that do it to heal himself up it wasn’t done correctly. Or at least done accurately…. Especially with an unknown power. This might be wrong, it was a brief training,  so don’t take this part too seriously.

Adding to this point:

If you’ve ever seen anyone wake up from a long coma, and I mean  l o n g  coma, they don’t have full feeling in their muscles and tend to fall because they do not have full control of their limbs. I’m assuming by the hair this hasn’t been up and about for enough time to get that effect.

Speaking of hair, yes guys, Kuro’s hair is WAY too long to be Shiro.

(Lmao, Shiro/Kuro w/ long hair; hit or miss??)


Kuro’s hair shows that he hasn’t cut it in at least 1 ½ years. There might not be much context of how long he was missing but I’m sure as hell it’s couldn’t be more than a few months since Keith was searching through the Glara rubble.

<Man, all these analytical essays are finally paying off>

This scene here:

Is a big clue. For real why would the Black Lion do that? Send him into more danger? That’s not right.

Well, guess what, she didn’t.

Remeber this gem? I sure fucking do.

She sent him with someone he trusts, Matt. This really makes sense cuz mATT JUST HASN’T SHOWED UP BUT IS OBVIOUSLY REALLY IMPORTANT *cough* sorry, I don’t know what came over me….

Not only does Shiro trust him but so does Pidge, and I know those two never really had a connection but they kinda all share a state of thought while forming Voltron…

So the Black Lion theoretically has seen Pidge’s thoughts and stuff. Theoretically Black has two reasons why to trust Matt.

The Black Lion has so many reasons to send Shiro to Matt and not some Galra base.

This can also help understand why the Black Lion didn’t trust Kuro.

From what I’ve seen (or remember seeing at 4 AM, I haven’t slept in 45ish hours guys, help) all of you guys think that Black knows that’s not Shiro from the Connection they have but that might not be it!

Kuro thinks he’s Shiro, he has the same memories, the same body, the same scar on the face! So the Connection can still be there, what he doesn’t have is Matt with him.

Which wouldn’t make sense because Black sent him there, so it’s ridiculous cuz “hey I sent you to be with your buddy? Why didn’t you bring him along to see his sister who has been searching for him like crazy???”

That could be why the Black Lion found Kuro and trusted that was the OG but then changed its mind and was like ‘no thanks’ when she saw Matt wasnt with him.

I mean look how….happy?? She looks when they find him!

Why would that change after the fact? The Connection had to be there in order to sense him in the first place. It just makes sense.

Also look at the symbolism here again:


Kuro is in a Galra ship, it’s so subtle you might not even catch it (unless you’re used to over analyzing everything in order to fit 3 more pages into a term paper like me)

Instead of animating Kuro getting physically off the fighter they show them apart, separated from Black. They show him in enemy weaponry.  

As an enemy kinda…


(I’m getting too into this…)


This is Kuro while he’s being cloned

This is Kuro after he’s ‘escaping’

Sounds like the plan was a success, but all that happened was Kuro getting away? I don’t know about you but prisoners stay locked up, unless they aren’t.

They even say Kuro’s is approved for Operation Kuron!


Also from that scene:

Kuro was given that codename ‘Subject Y0XT39′

But Shiro already had a codename, and it wasnt that.

Its ‘Prisoner 117-9875′

Subject and Prisoner are two different things and two different codes.


Kuron is already a huge fucking clue. I donno know if you seen this yet but,

Shiro’s name is literally White and the opposite is Black or Kuro which sounds a lot like Kuron


If you think that’s just a coincidence then try this:

Just try telling me this isn’t legit?


To add just a bit more, Kuro and Keith clashed a lot while both trying to lead Voltron.

He also made it so Keith looked like a weak leader, which he was not once he got more use to the role.


Appearance wise, Kuro is different from Shiro in a low key way. First off both haircuts he has where different from Shiro’s. They’re all horrible but that’s a different story.

His cloths is different too, it shows more skin. The sleeve shows his arm and he took off his glove. Symbolically this means he trying to be more open, more free, more approachable.

This would make it easier to give the wrong feeling of trust to the team, which is the plan Kuro was given


*searching through my notes* okay did I miss anything…? Ah Yes!!


When Shiro first meets those two freedom fighters the transmission radio picks of two things; something less important about Lotor and Voltron.

Which one was ignored and which one was heard?

Yes guys, Kuro didn’t even pay attention to Lotor cuz that’s not what he was told to do. He was told to find out about Voltron which, he did.

Also with those freedom fighters, we learn this:


It wouldn’t have been easy to escape injured and tired. When he escaped the first time it was with the help of Ulaz. They didn’t even try keeping him there, he wasn’t restrained and didn’t have any guards. The only thing trying to stop him were those androids they know Kuro/Shiro could easily defeat.

And last thing.


And I think this is the most important thing.







He didn’t finish that sentence.


He didn’t say he wasn’t a traitor.


He didn’t have too.



This concludes my presentation on ‘Proving That’s not Shiro but Kuro the Clone’

Thank you for your time.

For my next presentation, I will talk about why we should save Kuro and love him indefinitely

My Girl

Request: Okay, so this is Sirius x Reader where you like him and he likes you but neither of you know that and you ask the Marauders and Lily and Marlene if they wanna go to Hogsmeade or whatever the next day but they are all busy except Sirius. So you guys go and you get cold so he gives you his hoodie and you forget to return it or don’t want to because it smells like him and when you do at the end of the day he gets really happy because it smells like you and he wears it. Basically just fluff thanks.

Word Count: About 2,800.

Warning(s): Sexual tension, slightly suggestive comments, Sirius being hot as hell, kissing and stuff.

Note: In summary, this is a Sirius x Reader work about a cold night at Hogsmeade. Also, I deviated a bit from the request. Just a bit.


“We’re all still on for tonight, right?”

“Yeah.” Lily nodded, shrugging on a warm jacket as she headed out the door. “Marlene said to meet them in the common room before we go.”

As you made your way down the staircase next to Lily, you spotted James, Peter, and Marlene lounging on a sofa near the fireplace. Huddled together, the trio seemed to be in a heated conversation.

Nearing them, you heard their hushed whispers.

“Hogsmeade–”

“Just make up some excuse to–”

Once Peter spotted you approaching, however, he nudged the other two into silence. 

“Y/N! Lily!” exclaimed Marlene, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “Just the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

With a quirked eyebrow, you took a seat on the arm of the couch. When they smiled innocently at you, you shook your head with a small laugh, looking around the room. You thought it might be best to ignore their impish antics. Around you, the Gryffindor common room was bustling with life and chatter. But amidst it all, you couldn’t spot Sirius.

Not that you were waiting for him, of course. He just happened to cross your mind as you looked around.

“He’s almost ready,” said James, a cheeky grin playing on his face.

Keep reading

lavender hues (m)

fantasy au (reposted)

pairing: jimin | reader
genre: angst and fluff
word count: 13.094
warnings: sexual content 
author’s note: previously named ‘if these wings could fly’ in my old blog. I’m just reposting it with a new name. :)


Beauty. If someone asked you to define it, your mouth would probably go dry and your heart would flutter yearningly, freezing as the words turn heavy in your mind and dissolve in the tip of your tongue.

Beauty is short-lived but ubiquitous, a transparent but shimmering liquid running in rivulets through hidden alleyways and veiled landscapes that the eyes don’t notice unless they look twice. Beauty is found in the unexpected, in the withheld words of the timid poets, in longing stares and authentic, carefree laughs. Beauty is found in what the eyes can see, in what the ears can hear, in the deep reverie of the colorful minds and in the dreams held close to the heart.

Beauty is fleeting and you’re unable to grasp it. All your life you’ve chased it, extended your hands towards it, longed to touch it with your fingertips. But your steps are slow and your hands are ungifted, and you can only imagine what it would be like to create beauty, to have the hands of those that are able to reflect love and joy and pain in books and paintings.

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I see a few people mad that Doomfist is a villainous big black man, but as a black male, a nerd and an actor, I appreciate it. Not everyday that black people get a smart black character that isn’t a gun-smuggling, drug-running, convenience-store-robbing thug. Also, as an actor, it gives me a beloved character to point at and say “See? Black men can be seen as a villain with a complicated sense of morality too. Give us a chance.”

You think the stereotypical roles like thug, comic relief, civil rights activist, slave, and tough cop/soldier with a heart of gold plus the occasional “Nice, positive and sometimes gay black friend” roles are all that black people want to represented as? You think nerds see themselves in any of that? You think all black actors want to play such a narrow pool of roles? To hell with that, let me play a brilliant, legally rich bad guy that kicks everyone’s ass with decades of martial arts training while aiding an organization attempting to help humanity evolve. As things are now, I’ll never get a role of a misguided mastermind like Lex Luthor or Vandal Savage, or as a murder machine with a complicated relationship with the world around him like Joker or Carnage. Overwatch is showing the world that terrorists and thugs aren’t the only bad guys minorities can play.

Doomfist is not an African terrorist or warlord like that guy in Fast and Furious 7 or a tough lackey that the hero beats up before the villain shows up. He isn’t a drug dealer like Denzel in Training Day and he is isn’t a common criminal like T.I. in Ant Man. He is a super-villain of the Vandal Savage variety and that’s more than almost any similar black character or actor ever gets offered. I’m sure that actor is happy to be the Darth Vader of the franchise. He’s up in the ranks with characters like Black Manta as minority super villains who are THE biggest bad guy of their respective franchises while avoiding falling into a stereotype. He gives variety to black characters. You could literally take the same origin, set it in Europe, change his name and his skin color, and he’d still be the same intriguing character instead of a character made specifically for black people. He is simply a good, threatening villain that happens to have dark skin.

Plus it fits the international feel of Overwatch and its enemy, Talon. This game is one of the few franchises that seem capable of acknowledging that worldwide organizations in the future wouldn’t be 90% white guys. Overwatch and Talon, as organizations, literally pull people from ALL OVER the world based on skill and ideology, and the cast looks like it. Of course, in this situation you’d have an African, a European, a Central American and a North American. All from different areas on the globe. You won’t see me attacking Star Trek for using this same reasoning for why the main cast of each show/movie isn’t 90% white. It only makes sense that this applies to the bad guys as well.

When less than half of the people on earth are white in 2017, what are the odds that in 2077 worldwide organizations would have a majority of white agents.

Rant over, I guess…

wicked in her veins.

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, minor hints of sexual tension / demon!jimin

word count: 1,460

prompt: Getting to dress your demon boyfriend up for Halloween

note: october prompts masterlist

“Hell no. Not happening — fucking ever. Not in your wildest dreams, princess.”

His response was immediate as you made your way down the hallway with the costume in hand. The look on his face as he realized the certain… entity that you were holding was beyond priceless. It was of course the exact reaction that you had been expecting. His brows furrowed while his top lip curled in disgust, the physically aversive response to something as simple as a Halloween costume only causing your amusement to run thicker. No, not even your boyfriend’s harsh refusal could deter your mood, or your powers of persuasion for that matter.

“Oh, is that so?” You replied to Jimin, your brow arched in a way that told him how so far from over this conversation was. “I seem to remember that a certain someone lost a bet to me a few weeks ago? Remember that game of poker? The deal was—”

“—This is what you want to use your win from that on? Baby, c’mon anything else. You’re not this evil, I know you aren’t… Are you?” He was pleading a little, his bottom lip jutting out to try and tug at your heartstrings. Admittedly you felt a tiny pull, but it was quickly overtaken by the image of Jimin wearing the costume that was still dangling from the hanger in your hand.

Your mouth curved into a sultry smile as you made your way closer to him. He was sitting down on the living room couch, a look of despair flooding his eyes as he realized that there was no way in hell that you were backing down from this. You sat the costume onto the open space next to Jimin, his reaction a harsh flare of his nose. However, the tension soon dropped as you went to straddle his lap, your hands swiftly moving to take their place on either side of his face.

“You know, I really thought that a demon would be a lot better at a game all about lying and deceit.”

Keep reading

Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Experiment #2 - Request

Originally requested by @newts-fan-caseSo could you do a Sherlock x Reader were she is riding his face? (Lol I’m a sinner but I ain’t sorry) like for an experiment ‘cause Sherlock thinks a person can’t get aroused just by giving pleasure to someone else, but he is wrong and yeah ;)
& Anon:  Hi! Can I request a smut one shot with Sherlock where he wants to try have the reader sit on his face and eat her out and she’s shy & a bit self conscious with her body and he makes sure he makes her see Stars (with a little fkuff)? Thank you!
Requested by anon:  The “Experiment” was awesome! Can we have a part 2? Pleeeeeaaaaseeee
& a shit load of other people.

This is Sequel Friday first winner.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,886

Warnings: Smut (unprotected), un-edited, secuel (yup, it’s a warning)

A/N: Amazing way to wrap an amazing week. Thank you to everyone who voted!

Enjoy!

|PART 1|

After Sherlock’s little “experiment”, his relationship with (Y/N) turned somewhat odd. They would continue to work together and act professional during the cases, but the tension between them was too much.

He had showed her a side that not a single human thought existed, or at least didn’t want to see. He had been patient with her, loving even, making sure to make her feel comfortable at all costs, complimenting her, being gentle and respecting her limits… Definitely thing a real gentleman does, but not the kind of traits one would expect from Sherlock Holmes.

Then there was also the fact that John was sensing some change of vibes in 221B. Of course, he figured it had something to do with Sherlock’s usual arse behaviour, but it was weird to see (Y/N) affected by it.

Sherlock was sitting on his seat, Watson was on his and (Y/N) was between them on the “victim’s chair”. Watson had a stern, determined look on his eyes and Sherlock was calm as usual, thinking that John was too dumb to have figured anything about him and (Y/N).

“What is going on?” John asked carefully.

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Trust

DAY 4 OF WHUMP WEEK- Torture.

I’m actually really proud of this one? It’s a bit longer than usual, and it’s very Keith-centric even though I’m whumping Lance because hi have you met me? I’m too invested in klance. I hope you enjoy!

@elsiemcclay aka the best person to run ideas and/or titles by. thanks friendo.


A groan sounded to Keith’s left, and he looked over immediately, trying to mask his relief with a glare. “Oh, good. He finally decided to wake up.”

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you? Beauty sleep is important.” A pause. “Where are we again?”

Pidge snorted. “Guess that general hit him harder than we thought.”

“Lance! You’re okay! I was worried— that totally knocked you out, you hadn’t moved in a while,” Hunk rambled. “Does your head hurt?”

“Like hell,” Lance said, leaning back against the wall and pressing a hand to his forehead. “But nothing too serious. Thankfully, now that I’m conscious, I remember what happened. We’ve been captured, haven’t we?”

Keep reading

Life Imitates Art

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst (?)// Sub(ish)!Jungkook/ Art Student!Jungkook

Warnings:  graphic language/dirty talk, oral, cum play (if that’s what you’ll call it), masturbation, SLIGHT sub/dom dynamic

Word Count: 10.3K (bc I don’t know what pwp is)

Summary: A friendly favor for your crush develops into something truly sinful when you figure out his muse for his exhibition. 

a/n: only lightly edited b/c it’s 1:30 AM HAHA….this wasn’t supposed to be sub!(ish)JK but idk it just worked; still feel like I’m struggling w/ writing steamy dialogue but oh well. Enjoy! More work to hopefully come, slowly but surely. Please send feedback it’d be greatly appreciated!!! 


You grumbled all the way to the art gallery, adamant in your opposition to being dragged there by your roommate.

“Shut up, we’re already here. Are you going to brood the whole time?” Liz glared at you before pushing the glass doors open.

You’d pouted, clearly having lost the battle a long time ago. You settled on folding your arms defensively and letting out one last exasperated sigh. “Fine, but I still don’t know why you brought me here to begin with.”

Liz’s eyebrows shot up at the absurdity of the question, “You haven’t left the house for anything besides work and the occasional run. You’re starting to get boring, where’s fun Y/N?”

Her words only made you pout further because she was completely right-like most of the time despite your inability to admit it to her.

Keep reading

Tom Holland x Reader: Apartment

Summary: You and Tom Holland are neighbors in the same apartment complex. You have a crush on him, he has a girlfriend. What could go wrong? You could think of five separate incidents.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 7,132


No 1: the coffee maker incident (which was all harrison’s fault)

The moment your knuckles leave the door it’s already swinging back, revealing a face flushed with relief. Tom Holland’s eyes flutter closed, leaning his head against the door frame and looking up at you through his lashes with a smile plastered on his face.

“Oh thank god you actually came. You’re good at fixing things, right?” he asked, ushering you into his apartment before hearing your answer. You’re a little reluctant to enter, thinking that you’ll somehow track mud across his pristine white carpet, or smudge a stain on his suede chairs that weren’t in there the last time you’d been over.

“I’m good at putting Ikea furniture together, if that’s what you mean,” you call after him as you hop around on one foot, attempting to slide your boots off without appearing like a fool. You look around once more, taking in the features of Tom’s place.

You can’t say you like what he’s done. There are too many colors; blues and yellows that are too bold, an abundance of throw pillows against a couch that you swear your parents had gushed over in a Rooms-To-Go catalog. None of it looks like him, and you have an inkling as to why, but you keep your mouth shut as you follow the sound of two voices into his kitchen.

“You help me with my T.V all the time. Are you good with stuff like this?” Tom inquires, looking at you over his shoulder. He’s standing in front of something, hunched over the island in the center of the room. On his left, staring at you over his mug, Harrison is sipping away on something.

There’s a smug look in his blue eyes that makes you want to tip his drink onto his shirt, but instead you ignore him, standing on Tom’s right. In front of you is a simple small coffee maker; not a Keurig, but something akin, you could imagine.

“What’s wrong with it?” you question, looking around the top and sides for damage. Tom has his knuckle in his mouth, looking worriedly at the device in front of him. You’ve never seen such an anxious look on his face and it makes your brows crease. “Tom?”

“Hm?” he says, snapping his eyes back to you. The normally sparkling brown hues are muddy, clouded with something you can’t identify. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I noticed it was out of water and I went to refill it, but when I pressed the button, it wouldn’t make anything.”

Perplexed, you flipped open the lid, seeing nothing wrong. You checked the coffee ground compartment, seeing a pierced, but otherwise unused k-cup sitting in there. With crossed arms, you pressed the power button again, just to be certain.

The three of you watched as the machine’s light started to blink. You cut your eyes over to Tom, wondering what kind of stunt he was pulling. Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut off by the red light blinking out, only for nothing else to happen.

“See!” Tom cried out, fisting his hands in his hair. It curled out of his fist, making two small pony tails at the top of his head. Your eyes narrowed, realizing just how much his hair had grown in the past few months. You hadn’t seen too much of him to have a decent comparison, but you remembered it being much shorter.

“—just wait till she comes home and sees this broken! She’s going to kill me!” Your heart drops into your stomach, limbs suddenly feeling heavy. The coffee maker belonged to his girlfriend. You nodded, now understanding why he had sounded so urgent when he’d called you.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man, ya? Just go out and buy a new one with all that Marvel money,” Harrison pointed out, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his drink. “She won’t even know the difference.”

“They don’t even make this stupid model anymore, she’s going to know it’s broken. And I didn’t even break it!” he exclaimed, his voice shaking with worry. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to calm the hell down, that’s what,” you chided, resting your hands on Tom’s shoulders. He relaxed under your touch, walking backwards as you steered him onto a bar stool. “It’s not the end of the world, dude, just breathe,” you reminded him, watching as his chest heaved heavily. Your hands felt warm as they slid down his arms, coming to rest on the island as you examined the coffee maker.

You drained it of its water, checking the main compartment for any irregularities. Immediately you noted a white film around the sides, and you paused, looking from the sink, to the device, and finally at Harrison.

“Harrison? What are you drinking?” you asked, pulling your phone from your back pocket and shining the flashlight down to the bottom.

“Hot chocolate,” he replied carefully, eyes darting between you and Tom. Peering down, you carefully wiped your finger against the bottom of the compartment, your nails scratching against a hard surface, coated with something.

“Haz, there’s no pot in the sink, or in the dishwasher. What—HAZ!” Tom growled, having put the pieces together. “Did you put milk in the coffee maker?”

“I mean, yeah,” he admitted a not-so-guilty look across his face. “It was sitting right there, and it was faster than heating up a pot.”

“Ah-ha,” you chuckled, closing one eye to look down into the coffee maker. “That would explain this weird shit covering the bottom of this thing.” You gave a pointed look at Harrison, who hadn’t even tried to look remorseful. “You do realize that when you don’t clean up heated milk, it leaves a hard coating on metal. This coffee maker basically has a hot plate that boils the water and then sucks in into a tube. My best guess it that the milk hardened, and the water can’t get through,” you assessed.

“Well how do we fix it?” Tom asked, crossing his arms and looking at you. He seemed to believe you had all the answers, and you bit your lip to hold back you stutters. You didn’t want to disappoint him, to make him think you weren’t the person for the job.

Cutting your eyes over at Harrison, you gave him a pointed look; you made it look reprimanding, but it was really to wipe the smirk off his face. He’d had a smug look since the moment you walked in and it bothered you, making the tips of your ears feel hot.

“Well for starters, don’t do it again,” you bit out, glaring daggers at Harrison. He didn’t reply, but he did walk out of the room, shrugging his shoulders as he walked behind you.

Tom noted the fixed stares you gave him, but said nothing of it. You pursed your lips before looking at the brunette, holding out your hand and asking for a knife.

He blinked, warily pulling out a butter knife and placing it into your palm. You frowned at it, turning it over in your hands. “I need a sharper one.”

Tom raised a brow, hazel eyes glimmering with suspicion. You snorted, wondering if he was actually afraid of you with a knife.

“What, you think I’m going to kill you or something?” You joked. You wondered for a moment if your joke was too dark for a guy who was just your neighbor, but he eventually chuckled, handing you a knife with a sharp, long blade. You gave him your phone, and asked him to shine it down into the machine. Silently, with the two of your heads close together, you both bowed your heads with work to do.

This was an awkward fifteen minutes. Every now and then Tom would pick his eyes up and watch as your face scrunched in concentration. Your lips would part as an almost inaudible curse passed through, making him laugh a bit. Every time you felt him move you would try not to catch his gaze, attempting to discreetly look at him. You could feel how close he was and it felt wrong that your heart was beating so fast, or that you couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like hours, you retracted, taking the machine to the sink to wash it out. You filled it and plugged it back in, waiting patiently with a mug as you started it.

Tom looked as though he was holding a breath, and sure enough, when the coffee streams out he sighed, leaning against the counter with his entire weight, looking as though he’s been saved from the fires of hell.

He turns, eyes shining in praise as he gushed a bunch of rushed thank you’s, his accent slurring everything together. You’re really just nodding and smiling, telling him that it’s fine and no big deal. You’ll tell yourself anything to get rid of the hammering in your chest, louder than construction work as you feel blood rush to your face.

“I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.” He sounds like he’s speaking about your presence in general, but that can’t be true. All you’ve ever done for him was put together furniture and now fix his coffee maker, but he seems to like you, as a friend and neighbor. Which you’ll take.

“It’s no problem at all Tom. And it’ll be less of a problem if I can have this,” you pull the mug away, bringing the rich black coffee to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Do you want to stay for a bit? I feel like you’re always in and out, and-“ his words die as his cell phone rings, the ringtone that default sound that makes you jump. He takes it, holding his hand up apologetically, but you shake your head. You weren’t going to stay anyways.

Grabbing your things, you pass Harrison, who looks pretty comfortable on a couch that isn’t his, sipping on the last of his hot chocolate. He smiles when you walk by, but it’s a knowing one, as though he can read your thoughts. You scoff, but before you can get your shoes back on, Harrison says, “You should be thanking me.”

That really riles you up, and you laugh, a forced, sarcastic thing. “For what?”

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be making any moves.” There’s a wink, but you don’t really care to return his comment. You strain out a “Bye, Harrison,” before closing the door and leaning your back against it.

The cup in your hand is scorching your palm, but you smile regardless. Another reason to knock on Tom’s door. 


No. 2: The incident where you meet his girlfriend and things go wrong

You had this sick feeling in your gut that toady wasn’t the best day to bring back the mug you borrowed from Tom. It was simply the day after, the most reasonable time to drop by and say, “hey, I forgot I took this” without seeming like you harbored it, or cast a spell on it. The little thing sat neatly in your hands, cradled gently as though it was made of crystal.

Your knock was verging on two minutes ago, so you decided to go again, wondering briefly if you should say his name. Calling him may have been a bad idea, but before you could form his name, the door swung back, revealing a brunette that was not Tom.

His girlfriend’s caramel colored hair was a cascade of freshly made curls, evident from the fact that her makeup and outfit were already complete. She lacked shoes, and a sense of hospitality, sizing you up like bully on a playground. When she reached your eyes, you balked, deciding whether it was better to state your purpose, or just drop the item near her feet and scram.  

It would have been much easier for her as well, until Tom caught your eyes from farther behind her. “Y/N?” he questioned, but excitedly, as though he was happy to see you. That made his girlfriend’s lip curl into a sneer, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Oh, uh,” you started, wanting so bad to bolt, but transfixed by Tom’s smile and gentle demeanor. He was dressed, indicating that he was probably going out. And from the progress they both had on their outfits, you could guess it was possible they were going on a lunch date.

You felt foolish, your heart drooping in your chest as you resigned yourself to stick with the plan. What did you expect, that his girlfriend would just magically be missing every time you came into his apartment? A dumb idea, one fueled by your fluttering heart, but also by your jealous mind.

“I accidentally took this last time I was here. Sorry,” you said, holding the cup out to the girl. She dropped her eyes to the cup, but made no moves to take it from you. Her hands stayed rooted on the door, and you felt like you could melt under her scrutinizing gaze.

Tom saved you, however, taking the cup from your hands with care, wrapping his hand around it. Your hands brushed each other’s, and your fingertips felt so warm and fiery, igniting your nerves in flames. You looked up to send him a smile, but you caught the look his girlfriend gave you.

Her blue eyes startled you, being so wide and so angry at the same time. Her perfect nails seemed to dent into the metal door as she gripped it with all her might. Her posture was rigid, feet set apart in a fighting stance. You thought her unoccupied hand was going to reach out and punch your teeth out.

The silent threat made you jump, the ware slipping from your fingers and smashing to the floor before you had time to react. You could only pull your feet away and watch in horror as it fell on its handle, small shards of grey porcelain scattering across the floor.

You want to cry, curl up beside the shards and be swept away into a dust bin, you’re so mortified. To your right, she’s smiling a little, resting her hand on Tom’s shoulder as she proceeds to ask if he’s okay. She tiptoes to look over his shoulder, as though she wasn’t standing feet away when it happened. Milking the moment, you catch the glint in her eyes when she rubs his back, saying that she’ll get a broom.

Tom nods, saying a faint, “okay babe,” before he’s taken aback by the kiss she plants on his cheek. You note the pink mark it’s left, a small, but powerful reminder that he’s taken, and that no matter how shy and polite and cute and neighborly you are, there’s nothing you can do about it.

She casts a look that is part sinister and part mocking over her shoulder, but it turns into surprise as the door closes, Tom stepping out into the hall. He’s got his hands behind his back as the door clicks shut, leaving the two of you in the hall.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know how that happened.” He rubs the back of his neck now, as if he’s really considering the idea that he might have done this.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who broke it, I should be cleaning it up, I,” your head is fixed towards the ground, unable to meet his gaze. You really just want to walk away, but it was hard, with him so close to you, his height and yours almost the same. There’s no need for tilted heads when every time you look up, it’s just his eyes on yours, and it makes you so frustrated.

“I’m really sorry about this, I promise I’ll get you another one.” In some really nice universe, this is the part where Tom chuckles and says “You don’t have to do that. Just go on a date with me and we’re even.”

But this is not a nice universe. It’s not even close. This universe is horrible and cruel, laughing at your pitiful crush on a taken British boy and your shitty attempts at being his friend.

This universe sucks, so you leave him with that half assed promise and run down the stairs, not looking back as he calls your name.


 No. 3: the incident where you hear something you shouldn’t have (but always wanted to know)

It’s late, and probably your own fault that you’re miserable and at home and have to watch a fucking slideshow about Roswell, New Mexico. The lights are mostly off in your apartment, save for three little hanging lights above your kitchen counter. One sole bottle of Heineken is untouched, probably warm since your friend left over two hours ago for her date.

And now, with a pounding headache and an impossibly bad mood, you felt your limit snap as loud shouts and a bumping bass sounded from Tom’s apartment. He wasn’t a rowdy guy, and his girlfriend didn’t seem like the type to annoy the neighbors at ten pm, but you could think of a certain blonde that would.  

It had been weeks after ‘the breaking of the mug’, weeks of building back the confidence to look Tom in the eyes, and weeks of him being crazy nice to you. He was always asking you to come over, wanting to make up for how bad your last encounter was. Eventually you both settled back into a comfortable friendship, but that only persisted as long as his girlfriend wasn’t around.

After another week of that arrangement, you felt guilty, almost as though you were doing something forbidden. You remembered the shame and palpable tension in the room that occurred every time she came home to find the two (or three, there was no way she could get rid of Harrison) inside. Almost any conversation would drop, and you would leave, giving him a curt goodbye.

It was dumb, it was strenuous and it was so unnecessary. But it felt exciting.

You swallowed that excitement down fast, knowing that there was nothing between you two. You were neighbors, and finally friends; you weren’t going to ruin it because of your unrequited crush on him.

The pounding in your head increased when you heard with clarity and annoyance the repetitive yell of shots. The song seemed to shake your entire apartment and you growled, stomping over and banging on Tom’s door with your fist.

“Hey! It’s a fucking Thursday night!” you yelled, despite your normal timid manner. You seriously just wanted to fall straight asleep and head to work tomorrow and make a final decision on this location. You were losing time and patience and the capacity to care when a face split into a wide grin upon seeing you at the door.

“Hey hey, Y/N!” Harrison’s blue eyes were unfocused and shiny, his smile too big for his face. He stumbled to grab your arm, his grip much tighter as he used all his strength to pull you in.

“Guys, look who I found!” The word “guys” had you at unease, but you surveyed the people around you carefully. You would know the Spider-Man cast anywhere, and Tom’s apartment was definitely a place where you’d seen them the most.

Tony and Jacob both had on tilted ball caps, and when Tony ran to hug you it fell off. “Oh thank god you’re hear Y/N!” he hiccuped, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Our man Tom has something to tell you.”

The room dissolved into giggles. It sounded like a first grade classroom, their laughter so innocent and playful. The only boy who didn’t seem to be partaking in the fun was Tom, his lips set in a pout as he shoved Jacob weakly.

“Knock it off, boys,” he told them his voice sharp against theirs. He didn’t appear to be as drunk as they were, but the goofy grin that followed proved otherwise.

After another round of laughter, you tried to shrug Tony away from you, but he was heavier without full control over his body. You felt uncomfortable being around four drunk men, who were all stronger than you. Despite knowing that they meant well, the entire situation read badly.

“Tony, please get off me,” you mumbled, which seemed to earn his attention. He stood up straight, raising his arm up mechanically. You took a step back, holding your arms to make yourself small. “Guys, I get that you’re having fun, but I have work to finish, so can you-“

“You’re a location scout, right?” Jacob asks in the moment of lucidity. You nod, watching warily as Jacob stands, holding his hand out to you.

“Jacob Batalon, best actor in this room. If you’re ever in a pinch for actors, you know where to find me.”

“Jacob,” you said slowly, your handshake becoming too long. “We’ve met before.”

“Best actor in the room? Tom has a fucking BAFTA!” Harrison argued over the music, but you both paid no mind to him.

“Uh, I think I’d know if I met anyone as pretty as you. At least, I think you are. I can’t really see, but you’re Y/N, right?”

“Jacob,” you sighed, exasperated. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you were halfway to launching into an explanation before he cut you off.

“Tom’s been going off about this Y/N girl. She lives across the street or something. I’m like, Tom, dude, amigo. How do you know if she’s pretty if she’s all the way over there?” He pointed out the window and you frowned, wondering just what in the world he was on about.

“Jacob I know you! I live next door.” He snapped his fingers loudly, looking back at Tony with wide eyes.

“Tony! It’s the girl, the one Tom mmhmm-“ Harrison covered Jacob’s mouth with his hands, trying to sit him back down. You raised a brow, looking between the four of them before sighing.

“Clearly I’m not getting anything through to you, so I’ll just do it myself.” You huffed, turning to what you believed was the source of the booming music. A stack of black rectangular sound systems sat on a shelf below Tom’s T.V, each of them appearing to be on. In the background, yelling had ensued, with Jacob’s mouth finally free of Harrison’s grip. You paid no mind as you decided to simply turn the volume down. You twisted the dial a little too far, making the music so quiet, that their shouts became clearer.

“Why the hell not! You’re not going to have any other chance!”

“Your girlfriend dumped you, now is the perfect time to tell her!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met’?”

It kept going, not even missing a beat as the four boys started piling shout after shout on top of the others. You, however, had your hands over your mouth, slowly rising to stand up. Your mind tried to process the words in the order you heard them in, making sure it matched what you thought. Your heart felt like it would leap from your chest, knees knocking as you struggled to understand.

Tom liked you. He had since the day you met. And he didn’t plan on telling you.

It was news to you that his girlfriend was no more, but even bigger than that was the idea that each of his friends already knew that he was in love with you. That sentiment seemed like common knowledge, considering its blunt outburst hadn’t shocked anyone to silence.

Suddenly Harrison’s cheeky winks and Tom’s bright smiles seemed more than just coincidences. You wanted to run up to Tom and tell him that you felt the same way, that he meant more to you than just a neighbor or a friend. You felt your heart clench as you realized that those words were never meant to be presented like this. You weren’t supposed to know.

In some nice universe Tom would tell you over another shared mug of coffee, or an a first date somewhere sweet and thoughtful. In some nice universe you could kiss him for saying that, and he’d kiss you back.

But this was not some nice universe, and this shit always happened. You let yourself out, sliding back against the cold metal door and letting out a sob that had been working its way through your chest.

Perhaps that nice universe would only ever be a daydream


No. 4: the incident where the tables have turned

Not but two days after the drunken episode, you walked up the stairs to find Tom, sitting outside his apartment like a lost puppy. He bounced his phone on one knee, the other keeping his forehead up as he scrolled through his phone. After a moment he locked it, turning his head to see you, dazed and confused.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his loud voice reminding you of Thursday night, and the deflated way he had yelled your name, saying that he was in love with you. You were starting to believe it; you could see his eyes light up whenever they found you, a small but genuine smile tilting his lips upward. For someone who had just lost a significant other, Tom seemed pretty much in one piece.

Maybe because you were the one seeing him.

Nevertheless, you raised an eyebrow in silent question, to which Tom sheepishly smiled. “I seem to have locked myself out of my own apartment,” he told you, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. He was well cleaned up, considering the last time you’d seen him he was smashed beyond compare.

Before you even had the thought of stopping, you blurted, “Doesn’t your girlfriend have a key?”

It was like kicking a puppy; a small, adorable little puppy that only wanted your attention for half a second. The mirth drained out of his face and his eyes quickly dropped to the floor. His hands swung aimlessly by his side. You wanted to take it back, say you were sorry or that you forgot, but you weren’t even supposed to know in the first place.

“Alice and I broke up,” he sighed, and all you could think was ‘So her name was Alice.’

You tried to morph your face into sympathy and surprise, but you weren’t sure how well you pulled it off. “Oh, shit Tom, I’m sorry,” you expressed, wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder, but withholding yourself. Pretending you didn’t know about his feelings for you was so difficult, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you to be flirty or drop hints, but for some reason that was all you wanted to do: wrap your arms around him, tell him he’d be fine, and remind him that you were next door if he needed you.

In some nice universe that would work, but this wasn’t time or place.

“My spare key is with Harrison, surprise surprise,” Tom joked, which you smiled at.

“You’re never going to see that key again,” you laughed, bringing back a sliver of a smile to the man’s face. He looked better with it, you thought, doing nothing for the butterflies in your stomach. Your laughter calmed down enough for you to shrug. “You can come stay at my place until he gets here, if you don’t have anything to do.”

His eyes widened, but he hid it by raising his left brow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Considering it returning the favor. Besides, I’m always in your apartment. We need a change of scenery.” You unlocked your door, coming into your apartment with tense shoulders. Tom had never been in here before, and there was a reason for that. His presence in your apartment would gradually become less and less strange, making him just a part of your home than the couch or the curtains. You didn’t want him to be so familiar that it seemed like he belonged here, because he didn’t. He belonged in his nice white apartment, far away from whatever you had going on here.

There wasn’t much. You weren’t a minimalist, but you preferred less pillows and decorations than actual furniture. The colors were mostly neutral blues and greys, with red here or there. Along the walls were huge posters of cities you’d visited for work. Ashville, Slab City, Roswell, and other obscure towns were littered across your living room, and when you looked back you noticed Tom was staring at all of them.

“You’ve been to all these places?” he inquired, awe lacing his voice. You were shocked by his curiosity, considering he travelled all the time for his job. His face was fixed on the posters, before catching the little framed photos around the bookshelves. “Holy shit, is that you?”

He had the frame in his hand now, and judging from it, you were sure he was indulging himself in staring at a truly mortifying high school photo of yours. “Who are these people?” he pointed, and you grimaced.

“High school friends, if you couldn’t tell by our bad fashion choices,” you groaned, coming up beside him and studying the picture. You were in the middle, as you often were in group photos because everyone was taller than you. It didn’t particularly matter in this instance; you were squatting down, your hands clasped as if in prayer, staring down the camera with a smirk. Above you, four of your friends had lifted up the shortest girl in your group, perching her on their shoulders. It looked like a dysfunctional human pyramid.

“I don’t think I have a picture of me and my mates half as cool as this,” Tom remarked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think that’s cool? I think we were more crazy than cool,” you spoke wistfully, setting the picture back down. “I’m not even sure why I keep that around. It doesn’t really fit in with this whole thing,” you gestured wildly, pointing at the dozens of colorful photos. Tom’s eyes landed wherever your finger pointed, until the rested back on you.

“Which one of these is your favorite?” he asked, turning in a circle to view every landscape. You put a finger to your lips, eyeing each one carefully, until you landed on one filled with green and purple.

“I took this in Glasgow, about four years ago,” you stated, standing beside a quite large picture of a sprawling field of bluebells. “First time scouting overseas, and a studio needed pictures of old woods to use as concept art. I was with a senior photographer on this one, but he let me take the shots they eventually used.” You glanced up at the photo in reverence, before looking over to Tom.

His face expressed pure adoration, and you found that his eyes rested more so on you than the photo. He seemed to be in a trance, only snapped out of the daze a minute after you’d stopped talking. He tried to shake the grin off, but it was too late. So he went with it, smiling even wider.

“Wow. I’ve been to Scotland before, and I knew it was beautiful. But that?” he threw his hands down and you laughed at his gesture. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“You just have to know where to look. I know I never would have found this place if David wasn’t so familiar with Glasgow,” you told him, heading into the kitchen for drinks. “Next time, take someone who knows what to look for.”

“Maybe I should take you.” It was supposed to be mumbled under his breath, just a wish he kept to himself, but he let his guard down. You heard him, freezing as you stuck your head into the fridge, thanking the heavens that you had a cover for your burning face. You wanted to turn around and tell him yes; absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent were you on board with going anywhere with him. You wanted to joke that you’d pack your luggage right then and there, that between two seasoned travelers like you, there was sure to be a discount somewhere.

But all you could do was force down the thoughts, grabbing two cokes from the fridge before pressing them to your face. You turned to Tom and smiled, a restrained, glowing thing that startled him, for he hesitantly stepped towards you.

“Maybe you should. Glasgow is one of my favorite places. I’d be happy to show you around.” You hoped you didn’t come off as anything other than friendly, but knowing the situation you were both in, there was no telling his response.

Tom just blinked, his face like a deer in headlights. Suddenly his face was tinted in pick and he smiled, looking down at his shoes bashfully. “I don’t know when we’d ever do it,” he commented, rooting you two back in the reality, the place where you both had jobs to do and obligations to others. But it had been nice, dreaming of Scotland with Tom. Perhaps it would come true.

There was a calm silence that settled in between the conversation, which was ripped away when Tom’s cell rang. He picked it up with reluctance, before making a face at the id. “Haz you better be downstairs or else I’m hanging up.” There was a bit of yelling on the other side, Harrison’s voice distorted by the traffic outside. Tom listened for a moment more before nodded, cutting his eyes over to you.

“Yeah, you can just open yourself, you’re always there anyways,” he quipped, ending the line before sighing. “Sorry, that was Haz, he’s here with my key.” Every word he said sounded breathless, a string of words in an almost incomprehensible British accent and an apology mixed in somewhere. You smiled, before jumping up.

“Oh! Before I forget,” you babbled, reaching into a packed kitchen cabinet for something. You stood on the tips of your toes, reaching for a turned handle before it landed gracefully in your palm. You smiled, handing it over to the dumbfounded man over the counter.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning over the red and blue designed cup. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah! I told you I was going to get you a new mug, I didn’t say what it would look like though.” You bit your lip, wondering if a Spider-Man mug was really the way to go in this situation. In addition to playing the wen head, you knew he had an affinity for the character as well, hoping the combined coincidences would lead him to like it.

He pressed it into his palms, turning it over in the daintiest of ways. He clutched it tight, as though he might break it from just breathing on it. When he picked his head up, you noted the watery glimmer in his brown eyes, which he tried his hardest to blink back. There were so many small things about Tom that made your heart flutter, but you didn’t have time to study them all.

“Thank you,” his small voice took you from your thoughts. “That was really sweet of you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” you relied firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I never replaced it. Seriously, take it,” you told him, seeing as he was unwilling to leave with it. He stared at it a little while longer before he jolted, a buzzing sounding from his back pocket.

“Harrison’s here, I should, uh,” He stammered out, slowly taking some steps back. You nodded, giving him a slight wave and then headed back to the kitchen. You didn’t look up until you heard the door open, and then click shut, the air in your apartment much colder than it had been.

You stared around, wondering if you could find differences in your home now that Tom had been inside it. Your old theory was clearly correct, because your place had never felt so lonely and empty since you’d moved in. With a frown, you stared at the picture of Glasgow, wondering if in some other time and place, it was taken by you and Tom.


No.5: the incident where everything becomes clear

You actually burst into his apartment, a loud banging noise that sounds like it belongs in a movie. You’re too dramatic, and for reasons only you can understand.

Two heads turn, almost in sync. Blue eyes stare your form up and down, a quirk in his brows, while Tom just screams “Y/N!” It’s more of an exclamation that a question, which prompts Harrison to ask the obvious.

“What are you doing?” It’s so posh coming from him, the accent highlighting the annoyance in his voice. Or maybe it’s confusion, because he seems baffled not only by your presence, but by your urgency.

Tom doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got wide, shining eyes, and a posture that’s halfway out of the chair he was sitting in. He crosses the length between you two in an instant, throwing you off for a second before you regained proper footing.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, staring you down with those concerned brown hues of his. You wanted to take his face in your hands, and reveal your purpose for being here in the first place.

You were out of breath, from both being so close to him, and from running up three flights of stairs. After getting started on a scouting job earlier this week, you requested half the day off to start finalizing your travel plans. Within the next week you’d be flying into Tokyo and Hong Kong for a few days with Shanghai as a backup plan in case you didn’t get the shots you wanted.

You had been so psyched to start packing and start sharing about your trip, when you came across a moving truck in front of your complex. And lo and behold, you caught the sight of Alice, her arms full of those yellow throw pillows you had seen in his apartment all those weeks ago. Her blue eyes scanned the street until they came to rest on you, shouldering a hand bag that probably cost less than her foundation.

Her eyes turned to steel, lips curved in the most menacing grimace you’d ever seen. Her eyes appeared watery as you came closer, the grimace turning into a full-blown snarl the longer you stayed in her vicinity.

You practcally ran away, heart pounding out of fear. It wasn’t that Alice was mean or nasty towards you; it was that you could understand why she didn’t like you. You didn’t know the specifics of their breakup, but if you could guess, you figured Tom’s affection towards you might have played a factor in it.

The guilt burned your chest, but there was something else there you didn’t understand, something that led you to Tom’s unlocked door. In the awkward silence between you two, you wondered why it was unlocked, and why he didn’t seem to question why you were here. The longer he stared at you, the more your fingers itched, and the more you yearned to touch him.

So you pulled him out of the apartment, his feet tripping over the threshold as the door closed behind him. You caught a glimpse of Harrison’s face, blue eyes shining with mirth before he winked, clicking it shut. Tom turned his head to look back, but you grabbed his cheeks, making him face you.

He opened his mouth to ask something, but the question was caught it his throat. Your lips were suddenly on his, and he shifted closer to you, like it was an instinct. Like he got kissed by breathless girls outside his apartment on a daily basis.

His arms wrapped around your waist, before coiling tightly, his nails digging into your jacket. Your hands left his cheeks, instead falling to the nape of his neck, where you brushed small curls of hair with your knuckles. Everything about kissing Tom felt like fitting into a jigsaw puzzle; you knew exactly where everything went. From your hands to your chest to your lips, every part of you felt in place.

Tom eyes opened as he pulled back, gazing at you like he would a star in the sky. “Why did you do that?” His nearly inaudible voice was shaky, his hands running up and down your sides. He tried to still himself, but you could feel the skittish energy he was trying hard to contain.

You wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. “I don’t actually know,” you told him seriously, a smile in your lips.

He tried to roll his eyes, but he too was smiling at you. “You just did it, because? Just because you could?”

“Because I’ve wanted to for a long time. Because you accidently said last Thursday that you were in love with me. And because I’m in love with you too.”

Tom’s arms dropped and he balked, watching you with a gaping mouth. “You heard that? You heard me say that?” he reiterated, looking you in the eye. When you nodded he groaned, placing his head in his hands. He refused to look at you when you coaxed him out of his shame.

“I can’t believe you knew that,” he muttered, his face turning redder by the second. You tiptoed up and kissed the crown of his head, causing him to peek at you through his fingers.

“I’m sorry you’re embarrassed, but if I didn’t know I’d never have the guts to kiss you,” you compromised, pulling his hands away from his face. “C’mon, this situation isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not bad at all, really,” he sighed, a content smile gracing his lips. “I mean, you did say you were in love with me too, right?”

“Do kisses not mean anything to you Brits? Is that just like, a thing you guys do?” You poked fun at him, earning another small peck on your lips to shut you up. You smiled and laughed, making it messy and causing his lips to end up short squish against your cheek. He rolled with it though, smothering your face with tiny little pecks, squeezing you tight in his arms.

From somewhere in the apartment, Harrison screamed “Finally!”

Crawling Chaos - Part Two - Void Stiles

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Void Stiles/Reader

Word Count: 5,687

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (both receiving), masturbation, bondage, biting, daddy kink, literally 90% of this is PURE FILTH

Notes: I had no restraint on this. Y’all can blame @minhosmeanhoe for literally demanding this from me, and giving me things to add to this because we would just talk about everything kinky with Void. Lemme know your thoughts!

Part 1  Part 3

Keep reading

Something New | NSFW

Summary: You’ve been putting it off, but you finally asked your boyfriend about something you’ve been wanting to try.

Characters: Reader x Tom Holland

Warnings: NSFW, smut, cursing, light B*SM

Word Count: 1,525

A/N: Read if you’re only 18+. This is my first time, dabbling into this, so take that into consideration. Yeah, the D is censored to keep it out of the tag. How about that LSB though??? Anyways, enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated.


You had been dating your boyfriend, Tom, for about a year now. Everything was great with him. You both had learned to love long distance and he would always come and visit you on his days off, and vice versa. You always looked forward to the days off because that meant lying in bed with him — naked. You just loved feeling vulnerable with him and cuddling, but on other days, you guys wouldn’t stop. It was heaven for you, but you wanted to try something different the next time you saw him — that was this weekend. Tom would be coming home after a long press tour for his new movie and would have two weeks off in London. You were going to bring it up to him and hope it wouldn’t scare him away.

You heard a knock on your door and you opened it to a messy, curly hair, tired, brown eyed boy with bags on his back and feet. You smiled and kissed him softly, and helped him with his things into your apartment. You didn’t speak to him. You knew he was exhausted. After he put everything down, he approached you and just hugged you. This was typical and you both would just hold each other in embrace for a while.

Keep reading

2

She fell in love with him when she was only six years old, soft pink sweaters and blonde pigtails completely infatuated by dark wavy hair and suspiciously wise, stormy blue eyes. He was like something she had seen before, their was something about the way his head hung a little too low, almost as if he was carrying something heavy on his shoulders a feeling six year old Betty Cooper was all too familiar with.

It had never been easy growing up in the Cooper household, the familiar motto hung on a plaque by the front door “a place for everything and everything in its place.” But perhaps the one thing that had no place was the troubled blonde child hidden in the shadows, scarred palms holding onto a stuffed orange kitten. She would never be Polly Cooper, she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as her sister and her mother let that be known daily, for Alice Cooper looks were the most important thing a girl could have, it didn’t matter that Betty was incredibly intelligent for her age or the fact that at only six years old she had changed more tires than half the men in the small towns mechanic shop, she wasn’t beautiful and she wasn’t enough.

Her father didn’t want to get involved, if he caught her crying to herself under the kitchen table, he would simple touch her cheek with two fingers and whisper “it gets better sport, hang on.” And so she did, she hung on. She hung on tight.

She did however have one escape and that was getting lost in fantasies of her beanie wearing knight in shining armor, they didn’t speak, to be fair Jughead Jones never spoke to anyone, he kept to himself, eerily similar to Betty. One day Betty had brought up her thoughts to her older sister and had received the dirtiest look she had ever seen

“The Jones family is bad news, word around town is his mom beats him up on the daily, you stay away from him, nothing good can come of those people.” Polly had spit, her face scrunched up in disgust.

So Betty did, Betty always did what was asked of her, she never argued, she never fought, she simply agreed and went about her business, eyes downcast and fingers itching to tear into the skin of her soft palms.

“Betty! Get out of that garage and get going to school, you don’t need another Tardy on your attendance.” The shrill voice of Alice Cooper called from inside, effectively tearing Betty out of her reminiscing, she had no idea why Jughead Jones was on her mind this morning.
The gorgeous blonde pushed a stray piece of honey blonde hair out of her face as she wiped her grease stained hands on her pants, she had been working on getting an old Camaro up and running, she had even taken the gorgeous cherry red classic home from her fathers shop to work on overnight, she needed this car to work, it could sell for good money.

“Elizabeth!”

Betty rolled her eyes, dropping her wrench with a clatter and heading inside

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She grumbled, zooming past her mother and grabbing an apple

“Aren’t you going to get changed?” Alice asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust at Bettys plain blue jeans and loose white t shirt, a permanent oil stain smudged across her cheek as she shook her head and headed for the front door.

“I’ll see you when I get home.” She called, slamming the door and finally exhaling. That woman always exhausted her, she was glad to escape to school. The walk to Riverdale took her about ten minutes tops, immediately Jumped by her best friend Veronica Lodge as soon as she stepped foot onto the hall.

“Guess who finally managed to get daddy to agree to letting me have the Porsche?” Veronica clutched Betty’s arm, her dark maroon nails digging into Betty’s arm as she bounced excitedly.

Betty laughed
“I’m guessing it’s you?”

Veronica threw her hands in the air and posed
“Bingo.” She grinned.

The blonde and the black haired best friends continued on their walk to the lockers

“I’m jealous. You better let me take a look at the inside of the hood, you never know how those German mechanics work, they could ship it down here just to have it break down in a week.” Betty pat the raven haired beauties shoulder affectionately.

“You really think I’d ever drive a car without having you look at it. It’s just one of the many perks of having you as a best friend."Veronica wiggled her eyebrows teasingly as they arrived at their lockers.

Betty rolled her eyes with a smirk as she looked up from the inside of her locker, her eyes catching on the very person who had been running through her mind all day, she leaned against the locker beside hers, messy ponytail pressing into the cool metal as Jughead Jones, popped his head phones in and shoved books into his satchel, he was so good looking it was sometimes hard to watch, his lean figure was lined with muscle and the way his arms flexed under the flannel he wore when he bent down was enough to have Betty drooling all over herself, if that wasn’t enough there was the fact that his mouth was the literal definition of perfect, heart shaped and deliciously pink, waiting to be..

"Excuse me, Jane Eyre? Do you want to stop pining for about five seconds and pick up all the books that have spilt from your bag.” Veronica grinned cockily, her eyes sparkling at her goofy friend.

Betty looked down quickly and groaned, sure enough her book bag was unzipped and all of her papers and books were scattered on the floor

“Great” she mumbled, looking up at Veronica who was still grinning “are you gonna help me or just laugh at my misery.”

Suddenly the dark haired girls eyes lit up
“Sorry Betty but Archie’s coming this way, be right back.” With those final words she flew down the hallway, heels clicking as she jumped into her boyfriends arms.

Betty sighed
“Gotta go Betty, gotta go make out with my boyfriend in this very public hallway, I can’t spend two seconds helping you pick up your endless amounts paper from the ground” she mocked playfully, blowing another stray strand of hair out of her face. Reaching for her notebook, a large tanned hand covered her own, Betty’s eyes went wide as she stared at the familiar looking combat boots squatted before her.

“Quite the friend you’ve got there.” Jughead jones smiled lazily , handing her the notebook as he helped her stand.

Keep your cool Betty Cooper, stay calm
“Yeah, well she’s a little… distracted.” Her eyes flickered to the couple currently making out in front of some poor freshmans locker.

“I see” Jughead smiled, shoving his NOW empty hands into his pockets

Betty swallowed slowly
“Thankyou. For ya know, helping me. My books just can’t manage to stay in my bag.” She shrugged delicately.

“Well it’s better than your lunch running away.” Jughead joked visibly wincing at his poor excuse at humor.

Fortunately for both of them the first period school bell rang, causing the shuffle of students.

“Well…thanks again.” Betty smiled sincerely, hiking her bag over her shoulder, just as she was about to walk away the dark haired boy placed a hand to her forearm, the space he was holding seemed to burn under his touch and he seemed to notice too, staring down at his hand before removing it quickly, his hand came up to her face and gently brushed at a spot on her cheek.

“You’ve got a little..” he trailed off holding up his palm to reveal the oil on his hand.

Betty blushed bright pink
“Oil.” She spoke quietly “see you around Jughead Jones.”

His eyes snapped to hers

“See you around Betty Cooper”

Oh yeah Jughead you definitely will be seeing me around.

Red Fire (Crowley x Reader x Lucifer) - One Shot Smut

Originally posted by crowleysloverr


Originally posted by lucifersagents

Summary: You’re Crowley’s personal, little pet and you enjoy every second of it. But when you hear that a more powerful creature is held prison by Crowley, you decide it’s time to move up on the ladder.

A/N: This is just 4000 words of pure, filthy porn but I regret nothing. Set in S12 E15

Tags: @socktrollqueen @tori-supernatural @karlamoriarty

Warnings: SMUT, So much smut everywhere, Explicit Language, Pet Play, Blow Job, Facial, Threesome, Double Penetration, Anal.

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people who come at the penumbra podcast claiming that it ‘fails to be as diverse as it pretends it is’ are kind of. missing the point, i think? the team are writing stories about people who don’t get to see themselves in stories otherwise, but there’s no way in hell they could write a single good story that perfectly represents every single person underneath this umbrella at once.  

right now, the team is running a longform series about a black, nonbinary, bisexual man slowly learning to come to terms with his past and survive the mental illness that tells him all the good he accomplishes is worthless and all the bad that he sees is his fault. juno is the primary character in this series, and while there are countless other lgbt+ characters, characters of color, characters with traumas and characters with disabilities in this series, their stories are not front and center because the story is about juno steel. this is especially true given that juno has yet to overcome his tendency to paint himself as the hero or the villain, and always the center of attention. he’s selfish.   

right now, the team is running a longform series about a whole slough of people who want to be knights and are constantly told they aren’t good enough. a man who uses a horse or crawls instead of walking. a woman who’s constantly belittled and underestimated by her peers because of her gender. a man who battles both anxiety and internalized homophobia. all of them manage to be some of the most competent and deadly fighters in the land. and presumably, there’s more about this group of people we don’t know yet. more people will get to see themselves represented in the second citadel stories, too, because of the ensemble cast. 

in the past, the team has written a story about two women falling in love, one of whom was nonwhite and genderqueer. it’s not a longform series, but the arc of the story itself was over in one episode. the conflict was resolved. when stories last longer than their conflicts do they stop being good stories, generally 

the team has spoken up saying that they can only be what they are. they won’t write stories that they don’t know how to tell well, because they’re dedicated to writing stories that constitute good representation, rather than token representation for its own sake. these stories can only be what they are, too. they can’t be every story at the same time

and i know it’s hard because there are so many different kinds of people who don’t have the chance to see themselves in stories, but speaking as someone who comes from both a privileged group and a disadvantaged one (ie a white nb lesbian): just because a story isn’t about you doesn’t mean that it isn’t important, or that it isn’t ‘diverse enough’

half the point of fandom is that we can fill in those gaps, if we want to, right? we can do a better job of allowing the writers to tell the story they’re working hard to tell right now, and if we have the time or energy, write some of the stories we want to see ourselves! or look for that content in another place! creators committed to this kind of diversity are few and far between, but there are more of them out there and maybe some of them are writing what you want to see right this minute

this ideological standard that a truly diverse story has to center around the whole spectrum of the human experience at once means that no story can ever measure up! and it’s harmful, especially when media that makes no claim of being diverse gets away with worse every day. above all, it belittles the amazing efforts this team have made to show people stories about themselves!

Nine to Five (Part 1)

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Summary: Father Stiles AU. All Y/n wants is to find a new family to care for, when she comes across an AD in the newspaper, she couldn’t be happier. Stiles hires a new nanny for his daughter, but he soon realizes that he hired someone that would soon become much more than just a nanny.

Do let me know what you think about this, pretty please. Feedback is always wanted. I remember reading something similar to this and I couldn’t get the idea out of my head; I really enjoyed writing it!

Part 2

Gif @darlingiminlove


“What about this one?” Lydia questioned, eyeing a small square at the corner of the newspaper. “Nine to Five nanny service needed in the Beacon Hills area, must have experience with children under six years old. Email your resume… Short, straight to the point.” She mused, showing you the ad. You shrugged your shoulders, nodding at her to tell her to send your resume. With a few clicks on her computer, she smiled at you and took a sip of her coffee.

Being without a job for the last two weeks felt amazing, you felt like a new person; refreshed and comfortable. You were sad to see the family you looked after move all the way to the United Kingdom, you always thought you’d see Lori and Brett growing up so your heart shattered when the news was broke to you, but after a couple of days, you accepted it and it was time to move on. Except every ad in the newspaper was either taken or two hours away.

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actual things that happen in the Book of Mormon/why it is the most Extra™ musical ever
  • “Have fun in hell!”
  • *doorbell buzzes* “HELLO WOULD YOU LIKE TO CHANGE RELIGIONS I HAVE A FREE BOOK WRITTEN BY JESUS”
  • Norway: land of gnomes and trolls
  • France: land of pastries and turtlenecks
  • Japan: land of soy sauce and Mothra
  • Elder Price’s lifelong dream is to get sent on a mission to Orlando, Florida, but instead he gets sent to Uganda
  • “UGANDA! COOL! ….where is that.”
  • Kevin goes along with the happy upbeat choreography despite feeling extremely ripped off
  • “well, he has a very active imagination–” “I LIE A LOT!” “no”
  • Kevin’s dad actually gets a random woman to dress up like someone in The Lion King and sing Circle of Life
  • “Personally I like Star Wars, but I’m willing to like Star Trek more if you think it’s better”
  • the writers probably only made Price’s first name Kevin because it rhymed with heaven
  • You and Me (But Mostly Me) aka every group project ever
  • Arnold tries to make a video diary
  • Josh Gad screaming
  • the entirety of Hasa Diga Eebowai (it’s such a jam though)
  • “Raise your middle finger to the sky and curse his rotten name!” “wait what”
  • “Well, let’s see. Eebowai means God, and Hasa Diga means, Fuck you. So I guess in English it would be: Fuck you, God!” “WHAT?!
  • Cunningham gets REALLY into it.
  • someone tries to fuck a baby
  • “But that’s horrible!” “I know!” “Hasa Diga Eebowai!”
  • everyone has AIDS
  • Nabulungi has the purest expression on her face while doing the most vulgar choreography ever
  • All the nicknames for Nabulungi, including but not limited to: Bambamchelfi, Jon Bon Jovi, Hockaloogie, Nagasaki, Nabagamba, Neutrogena, Neosporin, Nintendo 64, Nordstrom, and Nutella
  • Elder Poptarts
  • a fun, lighthearted tap number about repressing your emotions
  • Elder Thomas was out buying an iPhone while his sister was dying of cancer
  • “My hetero side just won” *thumps chest*
  • when the lights go down and when they go back up all of the Mormons are dancing and wearing pink sparkly vests. Including Kevin.
  • “Imagine that your brain is made of tiny boxes, then find the box that’s gay and CRUSH IT!
  • Andrew fucking Rannells had to have the words “no, no, i’m not having gay thoughts” come out of his mouth
  • the sound of tap dancing in the background as Elder McKinley leaves the living quarters
  • “There is no Bishop Donaghue! I made him up!”
  • arnold cunningham just wants his dad to be proud of him for once
  • Cunningham steals Price’s blanket despite having one of his own
  • Nabulungi uses a typewriter as a texting device
  • Cunningham has a panic attack when he sees that there’s no doorbell
  • Gotswana has maggots in his scrotum
  • “what the fuck is a steak knife”
  • General Butt Fucking Naked
  • Nabulungi, one of the purest characters in musical theatre, singing “soon life won’t be so… shitty”
  • AFRICA IS NOTHING LIKE THE LION KING.
  • “So he crawled up on that cross, and he stuck it out” hjdhfjqgfhnjs
  • Elder Cunningham hip thrusting to rock metal
  • “YOU’RE NOT MY FATHER” *stabs Darth Vader*
  • “Heavenly Father, why do you let bad things happen? More to the point, why do you let bad things happen to me?”
  • “We will listen to the fat white guy”
  • right as Act 1 ends, Gotswana reminds us that he has maggots in his scrotum
  • “i know you’re really depressed, what with all your AIDS and everything,”
  • Arnold’s conscience consists of his father, Joseph Smith, Moroni, hobbits, and Yoda
  • arnold convinces everyone that fucking a frog is the solution to all your problems
  • clitoris
  • Boba Fett
  • Kevin mistakes hell for disneyworld
  • Elder Price has spent his life plagued by guilt over blaming his brother for eating a donut with maple glaze when he was five (5) years old
  • Elder Price has a nightmare that he gets sent to hell and Jesus calls him a dick
  • spooky wooky
  • Hitler makes an appearance, because of course he does
  • Elder Price thinks abandoning your mission companion is worse than serial murder and genocide
  • McKinley dancing seductively with the red boa
  • Jeffrey Dahmer and Kevin’s dad having anal sex
  • McKinley blowing Hitler
  • the music stops just so Kevin can scream that he can’t believe Jesus called him a dick
  • “That would take something… incredible” *spotlight on Kevin as his head whips around to face the audience fast enough to get whiplash*
  • Andrew Rannells licking his lips every other line at the Tonys
  • “AND I BELIEVE THAT IN 1978, GOD CHANGED HIS MIND ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE” (“BLACK PEOPLE”)
  • Elder Price forces General Butt Fucking Naked to dance with him
  • baptism is a euphemism for sex
  • “I’M WET WITH SALVATION”
  • A song called I Am Africa sung by the whitest people ever with the whitest choreography ever
  • Elder Price actually gets the Book of Mormon shoved up his ass
  • “let us smile and laughrica”
  • Elder Price drinks twelve (12) cups of coffee because he’s lost all faith in the Mormon religion
  • just fucking. planet orlando
  • orlando (reprise)
  • “I’m Joseph Smith, and I’m going to fuck this baby!” “WHAT”
  • Moroni from the Starship Enterprise
  • “Will you fight the clitoris man?”
  • magical fuck frog
  • “Let’s be really fucking polite to everyone!”
  • the dysentary sequence
  • Jesus wanting everyone to fuck each other and everyone wears HUGE dick garments
  • “SHE’S GONNA GET HER CLIT CUT OFF AND IT’S ALL MY FAULT”
  • Nabulungi convinces everyone that Elder Cunningham was eaten by lions and then Cunningham walks in and they’re like “HE HAS RISEN”
  • “If you do not get out of this village right now, he is gonna command the Angel Moroni… from the DEATH STAR… and unleash the KRAKEN! Which will then…” “Which will then launch Joseph Smith’s TORPEDOES from its mouth of CHRIST and turn you into a LESBIAN!”
  • the fact that that somehow scares off General Butt Fucking Naked
  • elder price says fuck
  • “my name is Elder Butt Fucking Naked.” (brief pause) “did you know that the clitoris is a holy sacred thing”
  • The book of Arnold
  • the last line of the show is literally Gotswana singing “I still have maggots in my scrotum!”
We Are Young: Chapter 3

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 

——————–

Elide sat perched on the footsteps of the house. The morning sun beamed down on her, the sky a crystal blue. A light breeze picked up, blowing around her hair as she pulled her jacket tighter around her. They were only a week or so into October, and the wind definitely held that harsh, autumn bite. But today, it was chillier than normal. She’d definitely be warmer if she were to just wait inside. But being inside would mean a higher chance of seeing her uncle. And she wasn’t in the mood to start her day off by having a lovely chat with Uncle Vernon. Especially on game day.

After going through her normal, quiet routine of getting ready for school, Elide had made her way downstairs. She prayed to every god she knew that it would be one of those mornings where her uncle was passed out. Thankfully, her prayers were answered.

When she made it to the living room, she found Uncle Vernon asleep on the couch. A half empty bottle was clenched in his hand as he snored loudly. Not wanting to risk waking him and getting yelled at this early, Elide went outside. Which is how she found herself sitting on the front steps of her parents’ old home.

She didn’t remember them well, her parents. They died when she was young. She grew up with her Uncle, who was always a cold evil bastard. But when his business burned down years ago and he last basically everything, that’s when the drinking started and things got worse…

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Summary of TAZ discourse today

(Let me be clear I am likely to come across as defensive of taz in this)

Here’s the primary source of the controversy. Originally, preview images of the comic adaptation of the adventure zone showed it was going to portray all three main characters as white. New preview pages of the comic with revised designs were released today. (For the record, I am not 100% sure how much the Mcelroys are actually involved in the comic making process?)

So now we have; one pale skinned character, one dark skinned character and one character with non-human skin color. The brothers have made it clear that these design are not canon and there are no “canon” appearances for the characters (If you feel like that is also a bit of a cop out, thats fair tbh). A lot of people were unhappy for several reasons. 

- There still could be more poc representation.

- “We wanted dark skinned Taako and you give us blue??? wtf is this??” (Again, I can see why people read this as a lame cop out)

- Some people feel really strongly that Taako needs to be canonically Latinx because of the running gag of his name sounding like taco which has grown into him having some connection to inventing tacos. (Griffin has discussed his anxiety about this, and I think he is in a lose-lose situation. Having Latinx characters named taco and chalupa would probably create even more backlash)

- A lot of people have decided that giving Taako blue/green skin makes the design anti-semitic. (It takes some deep ass digging to figure out why green skin is antisemitic? But apparently the green skin+long nose+pointy hat look came from anti semitic stereotypes back in ye olde europe)

And then there are a couple things from the newest episode.

-There is a long-ish romantic scene were Barry Bluejeans and Lup become an official romantic pair. Some people aren’t happy about a straight relationship getting a lot of time, or think that the lgbtq relationships in the show didnt get a comparable amount of time. (For the record, Lup is a trans woman so Blupjeans is straight, but arguably still lgbtq representation)

-At one point Justin does a bit where Taako is reciting inspirational quotes from famous people and attributing them to himself. During this, Coco Chanel gets quoted and some people are pissed on account of Coco Chanel being a MEGA-Problematic person in a number of ways. (I am anticipating that Justin will figured out he goofed and publicly apologize bout that)

IDK what I am even going on about tho… I think for me the bottom line is its totally okay to be disappointed about some of this stuff. BUT there has been a lot of black and white “if the Mcelboys arent saints then they must be VILLIANS” stuff going around and??? Yeah they have made mistakes out of ignorance but have always shown a desire and willingness to take criticism and improve themselves. I mean, maybe they only act like they care about representation for the sake of pleasing there primary audience. But if someone seems to be trying as hard as Griffin is to do right by minority groups, I really think we should try to maintain our civility when they mess up and give them a chance to improve themselves.

But hey, then again, I could just be cutting them too much slack cause I enjoy TAZ. That not implausible.