rossalotus

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integra "im holding his leash i can release it" hellsing and her offputting dog

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overly attached papa 🦐

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my boat bullshit again

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Mari’s writing, ladies and gentlemen, a dose of happiness to our days 💕

Keiji is on Koutarou the second they step into the apartment.

Koutarou yelps as his boyfriend pushes him roughly against the door. “K-Keiji!” He can’t help but laugh nervously at the man’s fervor. “What are you—”

“You played so well today, love,” Keiji says against his neck, nipping at the skin there. Koutarou shivers, reaching down to grip at his boyfriend’s jeans with shaky hands.

“Th-thanks,” he gasps. For a while, he just lets Keiji do what he wants: kissing his face all over, fingers trailing up and down wherever he can reach. It feels like heaven, honestly. They haven’t seen each other in almost three weeks. Koutarou can’t blame his boyfriend for his impatience.

But when Keiji starts pushing a knee into his groin, Koutarou forces himself free. “Babe, please, at least let me take my jacket off!” He laughs again at Keiji’s grumpy expression. “Cmon, you gonna strip for me, too?”

A pretty blush blooms over Keiji’s sharp cheekbones, and Koutarou delights—how can this man be so forward and so shy all at once?  It’s ridiculously charming. 

But as always, Keiji recovers quickly. He nods and starts to undress, quickly. Koutarou is barely out of his jacket and shoes by the time Keiji is down to his underwear. Koutarou bites his lip, eyes raking up and down the other man’s form.

Keiji isn’t an athlete anymore, but he still holds some definition, thanks to his regular jogs and newly adopted yoga practice. His skin looks soft to the touch. A wisp of dark hair trails down into his briefs, which sit low on his hipbones.

“Kou, please.” Keiji is reaching out for him again. “Please touch me.”

Koutarou is about to. He’s reaching out, intent to ravish the man in front of him with everything he has. But then he remembers his team jacket, still clutched in his grip. And he gets an idea. 

“Wait.” He unfurls the jacket, reaching to drape it around his boyfriend’s bare shoulders. “P-put this on.”

Keiji’s eyes widen and then narrow. A smirk settles onto his lips as he slips his arms into the sleeves. Koutarou’s jaw drops, swallowing as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend, bare-chested, briefs straining, the MSBY jacket hanging off of him. He looks absolutely delicious.

Laughing, Keiji pulls Koutarou deeper into the apartment, towards the bedroom. “You weirdo.” 

Koutarou scoffs. “As if you aren’t going to force me to keep my uniform on tonight? I know how you are, babe!”

“Shut up.” Keiji pushes him down on the bed, grumpy once again. But he doesn’t deny it. It’s a well known fact (at least to the people currently present) that Keiji has a thing for Koutarou in his volleyball jersey and shorts. Especially when he’s still a bit sweaty and unkempt from playing a game.

Koutarou doesn’t really get it. But he does understand the appeal of his boyfriend in his clothes. Licking his lips, he props himself up on his elbows, watching as Keiji crawls toward him with hooded eyes. He pushes Koutarou’s bent legs apart, slinking a few fingers up into the bottom of his shorts.

Keiji’s mouth twitches. “Hi.”

Koutarou, giddy, can’t help but smile back. “Hey, yourself. Enjoying the view?”

“Mhm.” Keiji moves forward, reaching for the back of Koutarou’s head to pull him closer. “Very much so.”

Koutarou sighs at the feeling of his boyfriend’s fingers in his hair. He is just so, so happy right now. Content. 

This is home, he thinks. In Keiji’s arms. He doesn’t need anything else.

Koutarou’s hand finds the side of Keiji’s face. “Well? You gonna do something about it?”

Keiji grins as he leans in the rest of the way.

//

This was inspired by this amazing art by @aylienboi! I don’t really think I did it justice, but I had fun writing it, at least. If you enjoyed please comment and share! Also, if you’ve enjoyed anything I’ve written in the past few years, consider tipping me on Kofi! I’m mostly unemployed right now so every tiny bit helps. Cheers!

[rossalotus]

So I was thinking about the scene in the movie when she feeds him the medicine from the river spirit. And I thought. This would be really into if instead of him eating the medicine what if she's the one who eats instead of him. What would nofaces reaction be? I literally came up with this idea last night

That’s one fine food for thought! I had never thought of that and it sounds fun though my idea went more on the lines of how Chihiro could ever adapt to the normal, dull world again after such adventures. I hope you find someone to take your request though, good luck (:

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Hi I'm wondering if you take requests? I had a spirited away story in mind but If not do you know anyone who is taking requests

Hi! I usually don’t take requests but I have been thinking of a Spirited Away story myself so maybe if your thoughts and mine align I could write it 😊

Otherwise, I honestly don’t know anyone taking requests right now, sorry )):

[rossalotus]

Chapter 3 - Prejudice 101

Good morning darlings, it is a fine Monday morning in Sydney, Australia and I come to relate my experiences during the last week. I’ve wrote this on Friday but only had time to sit and read it now so please bear with me.

I told you about the Garfield reference guy and he is the main character of today’s story. We scheduled a date for Saturday night at a bar we both knew.

In the meantime we talked a lot and he seemed fine and he asked me if I wanted to add him on Discord to play TFT together on the afternoon before the date. In case you don’t remember, I had put on my profile that I’m a Master in that game and so I said yes. We enter Discord and as soon as I hear him talk, I have the feeling this will lead only to friendship. My brain goes: “Oh, I’ve seen this type, the needy type, I can’t take this.”

Of course, I immediately reprehend myself for that thought since the only reason I had it in the first place is because I have a friend who looks just like him and is like that. So I wipe away that first - wrong - impression from my mind and start listening to him again, getting to know him.

Then, we log off and I take a shower and get ready for the date. I wore a cute skirt and an even cuter cape and over the knee boots. Maybe I overdid it? Maybe. But the bar is a nice one, people would dress up too and it’s always nice to cause a good impression on a date, right?

Well, I get there and the boy is late. Shania Twain wouldn’t approve of him but Carol is horny af and so she does. I look around and realize I’m not overdressed at all, everyone looks similar. 

Good.

Then, I see him coming from the other side of the bar. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and I immediately reproach myself for judging him for his clothes and here I’ll stop the story and talk about Prejudice 101. 

I have spent years and years judging myself for my thoughts and feelings, believing myself to be a bad person because of them. But here I am, twenty years after the first time I felt like that, to tell you how unfair and ridiculous that thought is. What we think and what we feel doesn’t define us and, in a way, it doesn’t really matter. Stopping, evaluating and rethinking is what defines you. In other words, what you can’t control doesn’t matter, it is what you can that does. Your actions, your judgment. So if you, like me, have been reproaching yourself for things you can’t control, even when you know you acted so that those things don’t matter, find yourself hereby freed from that guilt by yours truly. Again, it is what you can control that defines you, not what you cannot.

With that in mind, during the few seconds between me seeing him and him walking towards me, I rationalized that some people just don’t feel comfortable wearing some kinds of clothes and that is not a bad thing. It could mean he wanted to be himself near me and if clothes were an obstacle for that, he decided to let it out of the way. And I appreciate it. By the time he was two steps from me, I had already disregarded the whole clothing thing.

And then he got into my orbit enough for me to sniff him and that’s when I knew this wouldn’t be anything more than friendship.

Let’s start by making it clear that this is not a homeless person or even someone going through a hard time economically speaking. He owns his own home and his own car (or so he said) and I’m sure no one with enough money to buy a home in this economy would ever buy one without a shower.

He didn’t smell bad per se but he smelled like someone who hasn't taken a shower in a while. Or someone who wore those same clothes for days in a row and didn’t wash them. Sure, I can forgive being late, I can forgive not wanting to wear clothes that make you uncomfortable but is meeting me so insignificant to you that you won’t even shower? Really? Not significant enough to wear clean clothes? To wear a little bit of perfume? Come on.

I was there already and super hungry so we ordered food and talked and though I thought the talk was ok, it wasn’t that nice or interesting. He drove me home at the end and I asked how much I owed him for the date. 

He said: “It depends. Will we have dinner again?”

I first thought we could be friends and I shouldn’t judge people from a first date. Maybe the talk wasn’t that nice because he was nervous. So I replied yes.

This was Saturday night. From then onwards, he kept on texting me every day, at every hour. I didn’t have much to talk about since I was just working and it started annoying me. By Wednesday I was so annoyed I couldn’t take it and just texted him saying I knew what I said on Saturday but I changed my mind, he could send me the amount I owed him and I would transfer. He sent me the bank details and asked if we could still be friends. At this point, I didn’t want to be friends either and so I just replied saying I had already transferred and we didn’t talk again.

So much energy wasted on this, I wanted to give up on apps. Then I remembered that if I do give up on them I will probably not ever have sex again or find love or anything so I went back to swiping but in these three days no one with whom I matched started a conversation.

Hopefully this week I’ll have a nicer story to tell.

[rossalotus]

Wallaby Love Stories - Chapter 2 - Draught

So dating apps are harder than I expected. I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be easy but god I didn’t think it’d be this hard. As of this week there were a total of ZERO dates but I do have some updates on learnings and potential dates in the horizon.

Number one, did you know, dear reader, that Australians who play football (soccer) or like it a lot call themselves footy? Well, I did not and let me tell you how impressed I was by the amount of people with a foot kink in the dating app - not that I have anything against it, I just found it curious since I had never seen it in any other country I had lived in - and I commented my surprise with a gay friend who just so happens to be my neighbor. He told me footy meant a person who plays football and not someone with a foot kink and the gossip I wanted to tell my friends in Brazil vanished with his words. What a loss.

Another thing I had never seen before is a huge amount of people requesting a video call before meeting in person and honestly? I get it. I mean, no one likes being catfished and “wasting” their time but bro this is a dating app not an interview and we can meet in person and decide we don’t click over a drink, which is way less traumatic and more interesting than doing it via video call.

I have tried to keep conversations with all my matches but it proved to be harder than expected. Maybe it’s that I’m not used to even talking to more than one friend at a time or maybe it’s because I’m not made to be a girl with many dates at the same point in time but I just couldn’t make the conversation flow.

Then, yesterday, during my swiping time I came across a profile of a man who’s not really my time but wrote in his bio “Love me, feed me, never leave me” and me being the biggest Garfield fan, swiped right and asked if that was a Garfield reference which he replied it was but he had never had anyone mentioning it before. I replied that I had never seen a person mentioning Garfield on their dating profile but I liked it.

From then to now, I learned he’s also a Lord of the Rings fan and very funny. He asked me what I was looking for in the app and I said I didn’t know (again, didn’t think it was the moment to say I’m looking for a companion to conquer the universe together) and he said he wanted to take me on a picnic date to see if we clicked. And then he added (please buckle your seatbelts you’re not gonna believe this): “You sound like a nice person to have around, even if we don’t click romantically I think we could be friends.”

So yeah, I’m not sure where this will take me but in the worst case scenario I’ll make a new friend which isn’t bad at all considering I created a Bumble BFF profile and had a total of ZERO matches. Yes, the draught extended to the friendship realm as well though hopefully next week I’ll bring nicer news hehehe

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“Have you ever noticed that Bokuto hugs Akaashi differently?”

Konoha blinks, glancing at his teammate with interest. Komi’s arms are folded in front, with one hand reaching up to tap a finger on his chin. Konoha follows his gaze to where his captain and Akaashi are practicing.

“Huh?”

“He hugs Akaashi differently than the rest of us,” Komi says absently. “Haven’t you noticed?”

Konoha narrows his eyes. The setter had obviously just broken free from the other boy’s clutches moments ago, turning to hide his pink-tinged cheeks from view.

“Ugh,” Konha grits out, taking a large swig of his water bottle before letting out an exasperated sigh. Because of course he’s noticed. It’s just–he’s trying NOT too. He’s had to deal with the two boys’ odd dynamic for almost two years. He’s tired.

“I mean, he practically strangles anyone else he hugs,” Komi continues. “But with Akaashi-kun he’s almost… gentle? It’s still a tight bear hug, it’s just a bit.. softer?” He shrugs. “I dunno, maybe it’s just my imagination.”

Konoha shakes his head. “It’s not. I mean, everything about their relationship is kind of weird.”

Komi chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

For a while they just watch their teammates in silence. The two practice as normal–bumping, setting and spiking over and over again with stamina that mystifies Konoha to no end. It used to just be Bokuto who had limitless energy. Now, it seems to have rubbed off on their kohai.

“They’re crazy,” he mutters, and Komi snorts in agreement. 

Eventually though, Akaashi does meet his limit. Even Bokuto’s puppy dog eyes don’t sway him to continue. “Bokuto-san, final exams start next week. You need to go home and rest so you can start studying hard tomorrow.”

Bokuto pouts. “But I want to keep going!”

“No buts. You need to pass math if you don’t want to repeat remedial courses at university, Bokuto-san.”

“So mean, ‘kaashi!”

“Being strict isn’t the same as being mean.”

“Hmm, I dunno about that!”

Konoha rolls his eyes, and he sees Komi facepalm in his periphery. 

“You’ll help me study, won’t you Akaashi?” His voice is hopeful, maybe even a bit nervous. Konoha can’t help but turn to watch them again. (Ugh, it’s like he can’t look away.)

“I don’t think I’d be much help,” Akaashi admits. “Math is not my strong suit, either. You know that.”

“I do know. But just having another person there to motivate me is enough!” Bokuto grins and leans in close. “Especially if it’s you! You’re the best, ‘kaashi…”

Konoha’s eyes widen; has Bokuto always been this smooth? Next to him, Komi lets out a surprised noise of his own. They both try not to laugh as Akaashi’s stoic expression immediately melts into one of unadulterated fondness.

“Oh,” Akaashi visibly swallows, fingers weaving nervously. “Then sure, Bokuto-san. I will help you.”

Bokuto lets out a triumphant yelp, and in one very quick movement, bounds forward to pull his setter into yet another hug.

Thanks to Komi (for better or worse), Konoha is now paying even more attention. He notices the tenderness in how Bokuto embraces the other boy. The way his arms, often a bit too powerful for his own good, wrap around him delicately. And how he dips his head down slightly to nose at Akaashi’s curls.

Akaashi’s face is hidden from view. But judging by how red his ears are, and the way his hands twitch at his sides, it almost seems like he… well…

Konoha suddenly feels like he’s intruding. He slaps Komi’s wrist and turns on his heel. “Let’s go,” he mutters. “Leave them to clean up the court. They’re the ones who actually practiced late, anyway.”

“But you saw that, right?” Komi hisses as they exit the gym. “There’s just… something there!”

“Well duh.” Konoha scoffs. “Two hugs in like, what, 10 minutes? It’s like Bokuto is just trying to find an excuse to do it whenever he can.”

Komi laughs. “Seriously!���

As they trek around the building towards the entrance of the school, Konoha can’t help but notice that the gym has gone strangely quiet. Like his hugs, Bokuto’s voice is usually overwhelming, booming and loud and unrestrained. 

But now Konoha hears… nothing. 

He wonders, vaguely, if his two teammates are still hugging. If Bokuto is holding on longer this time, and Akaashi is just… letting him. If they are perhaps doing MORE than hugging…

“Ugh,” Konoha grumbles again. He hates that he’s so invested in these idiots. They are absolutely ridiculous. Exhausting. Maddening. 

Still, he can’t help but send a silent blessing back to his friends.

Okay guys, figure yourselves out, he thinks, smiling in spite of himself. 

We’ll be there for you all the way…

//

Konoha is right–by the time he gets home that night, BokuAka is making out heavily on the club room floor 😆

Thanks for reading! Please comment and share if you enjoyed! I also have a kofi (linked on profile) if you’d like to support me that way. 🙏❤️ Cheers!

[rossalotus]

Imagine Kou working part time delivering pizzas on his freshman year at uni and not telling Keiji

He knows his best friend orders pizza on the day before important exams so when he sees an order to that very familiar address, he takes it himself Koutarou rings the bell and hears footsteps coming down, ready to surprise his best friend.

It isn’t Keiji who opens the door, though. It’s his mother She greets him first and then she stops, gazes at him again and blinks. A second later, a smile paints her face

“Hello, Koutarou-kun,” she says in a soft tone, “wait a bit, I’ll call him.” Turning around, she screams: “KEIJI, YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE!”

Koutarou’s face turns red as he hears the familiar voice of his best friend coming down in fury

“Mom, I told you Koutarou is not my boyfriend yet AND there’s no way he’s here so stop yelling would y…”

He stops talking as soon as he sees Koutarou staring at him at the door and Keiji’s face flushes even more than his Keiji then starts to mumble something but Koutarou’s is too busy replaying that one line “Koutarou is not my boyfriend yet” in his head to listen

He’s pulled back to Earth by two blue globes staring at him. He shakes his head

“Sorry, Akaashi-kun. I didn’t catch that”

“I said thank you for the pizza, I didn’t know you worked there” Keiji said, suddenly glancing at the floor

“I got that job so that I could see you more often,” Koutarou replies, “even if just for a minute” Keiji frowns “You need a reason to see me?”

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend yet so,” Koutarou starts but can’t finish because he’s laughing mid-sentence, Keiji soon joining him

They stop laughing when a voice comes from behind them. It’s Keiji’s mother

“Could you then become boyfriends soon so I can have my dinner? I’m starving!”

Keiji and Koutarou glance at each other, still smiling. In both minds, the same question: “how come we didn’t do this sooner?”

[rossalotus]

BokuAka is just different for me. With most ships I’m like, think “hey they’d be cute together.” But with bkak it’s I can’t imagine them NOT as a couple. Like, those guys are IN LOVE. There is nothing that would convince me otherwise.

[rossalotus]

#Bkak Mess Sargent! Akaashi and Bugler! Bokuto

Pvt Bokuto loved his position as first bugler. His bugle had been his sole companion for a lifetime, the only constant in his five years at the army and most likely the only constant he would see in his next twenty five years in the army. He didn’t have a single memory of the time he didn’t know how to play his bugle. He had learned to play it in the army way when he first joined and he had learned to play it for the boy’s entertainment while they got drunk at the pub. 

He enjoyed the boy’s company but his favorite moments were the ones when everyone would have left the pub already, leaving him alone to play what his heart desired. His heart usually desired soft blues, the rhythm from his far away home, the soft and sad rhythm he carried within all the time but preferred not to let it lose, after all, he was a soldier, not a goddamn boy scout.

On a cold winter morning Pvt Bokuto rose early, as it was his duty, and made his way to the main barracks to play the bugle and wake everyone. That morning, however, he didn’t find the way empty as he usually would. That morning, someone stood in front of Captain Kuroo’s office.

Carrying a big bag, the blue-eyed man in uniform didn’t act as misplaced as he looked. He acted like he owned the place.

Like a man of rank, Bokuto thought.

“May I help you?” He asked and soon those cold blue eyes found him, gazing from head to toe, judging. 

“I’m Mess Sergeant Akaashi, transferred from company C.” He said after what felt like an eternity. His voice was low, deep and his expression didn’t change. Before Bokuto could reply, however, he heard steps from behind him.

“Pvt Bokuto, shouldn’t you be on duty?” Captain Kuroo’s voice came from behind him and Koutarou straightened his back, saluting.

“Yes, sir. On my way, sir.”

Kuroo smirked and nodded as Koutarou ran to take his post. 

Behind him, Koutarou heard the mess sergeant repeat the same sentence in the same tone and registered in the back of his mind just how sweaty he felt despite the cold morning and how pleasant it had been to meet such pretty eyes so early in the morning.

 Days passed and Koutarou’s routine hadn’t changed. Well, a bit. He started to pay way more attention to the man running the mess hall. How his voice never rose, how his long fingers moved around the pans with knowing agility and how food had significantly improved since he moved there. When before they only had meat once a week, now they had it three times and Koutarou loved the fact his favorite food was now being served more. 

He didn’t start to pay attention to the man’s every expression, he most surely did not spy for a smile though he didn’t find any, and he of course did not look forward to payday, when they would all go to the pub and maybe he could talk to the new mess sergeant. 

At least that’s what he told himself.

Payday came and Koutarou took his bugle to the pub, pretending his excitement had been due to their dismissal not from the chance to finally speak to the handsome sergeant. As usual, Koutarou stayed late, playing, chatting. But he didn’t see the sergeant. He watched as the last of the soldiers left and still couldn’t see any sign of the one person he wanted to meet.

I should have known, he’s probably with the Captain or the other higher ranks, he thought as he prepared to play again, this time to his own heart’s content.

Today, the songs came out especially sad but he didn’t mind. He could lie to himself and say he didn’t mind it but his music never lied. 

“What’s the matter?” 

A low but sweet voice came from a corner of the pub on his blind side and Koutarou turned to watch a flushed and clearly drunk sergeant Akaashi standing up and walking to him. He looked concerned and Koutarou watched him mouth-opened. Could this be the same serious man he saw at the mess hall every day?

“Are you ok?” He said, placing a hand on Koutarou’s shoulder.

Muted by his own surprise, Koutarou just nodded, unable to form words. The man frowned.

“Don’t lie to me. I asked to be transferred to your company because I heard you play here before. You always played a little sad, a little lonely but never like this. Did something happen? Did I get it wrong?”

Koutarou tilted his head to the side. 

“Get what wrong?” he managed to say, too puzzled by the situation and too unsettled by such cute, curious eyes so demanding on him.

“Meat. Isn’t it your favorite dish?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you sad?” He asked, pouting.

Had this been a little less, perhaps Koutarou could have come up with another answer. Had this been a little less, perhaps Koutarou could have hidden his blushing face. But this was too much to take: Sergeant Keiji Akaashi had not only transferred to the company because of him but had also known his favorite dish and heard the songs Koutarou thought he played only to himself. There was no brain capacity left in him to lie.

“Because I thought you weren’t here.”

The pout on the sergeant’s face turned into a soft smile as he took a seat right beside Koutarou and rested his head on his shoulder, clearly too drunk.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Your music is as beautiful as you are.” 

He whispered in Koutarou's ear and Bokuto took a moment to thank the universe for this. A second later, the mess sergeant fell asleep on Koutarou’s shoulder.

Pvt Bokuto knew this man would probably not remember this tomorrow, but he would. For now, that was enough.

[rossalotus]

Wallaby Love Stories - Chapter 1 - The Master

I feel the need to explain the purpose of this story so that if you decide to go on and read it you know exactly where you’re stepping into and what you’re getting.

I’m twenty nine years old and I moved to Australia from Brazil a year ago. In general I’m pretty much lame, I write in my free time, play tennis and am not at all adventurous. I’m dead frightened of cockroaches and call it the Brazilian way or just one of my paranoias, I’m obsessed with cleaning in an almost-Huxleian way (I shower once to twice a day, I can’t ever get into bed without showering first, I carry hand sanitizer anywhere I go and I get extremely anxious in crowded places just to name part of the length of this).

During my last year in Aussie I had a very bad experience at work with a boss who killed all my intellectual self-esteem, taking with it my self-esteem as a whole and my libido. When I moved here, I had only two friends: Both gay and both named Leo. I grew incredibly close to both of them, our bond now one of family but in January this year, one of them passed away out of an unexpected and unknown infection. He was 26 years old. He passed in the same week I got fired from my last job.

I said all of that because I need you to understand that although my last year has been shit to a level I don’t think I have ever experienced in my almost three decades of living, I’m now ready and willing to get my happiness back at all costs. I think I deserve that. When I say I want my happiness back, the first step was my new job (which I started two weeks ago and am very excited about), the second reconnecting with friends I talked only once or twice (which I've also started to do again) and the third is finding love. 

Let me be more specific.

Though I’m not religious at all, I come from a very catholic family where the unspoken rule is that a woman (and I have realized even a man) is expected to marry and have kids by the age I happen to be right now. Or even younger. People get worried about me and my singleness as if I were sick though I don’t find being single a problem at all. In fact, I kind of enjoy it way too much. Not in a club-oriented, fuckboy way but in a “I don’t owe anything to anyone” way.

Having grown up in that kind of family borned in me an unreasonable need to prove that being single was ok and they should accept it. Of course, I failed. They are not changing, and even if they decide they want to, it’s not my task to make them if you know what I mean. People change on their own or they don’t change at all. That said, in all those years of trying, I lost perspective of what really makes me happy.

Sure, I have no problem at all being single and I like it but that doesn’t mean I have to hate love. That doesn’t mean I have to run from dating like the devil runs from the cross (hehe the catholic references everywhere hehe) and that doesn’t mean I will keep on my bad attitude of doing so.

Once I realized my self-sabotage I decided to act on it and my sole barrier in this whole story became the writing thing. If you’re a writer you know as well as I do that writing takes time, takes effort, takes studying (and for some people takes a computer program with artificial intelligence but that’s a story for another day) and whenever I tried to invest time in dating I felt guilty, I felt like I should have been writing. 

Therefore, here is my solution: I transformed dating into a writing content-gathering exercise! Yes, that’s what these posts will be about. True love stories (or the search for them) from Down Under!

So, now that you know the purpose of this, let me get you a glimpse of the roadmap. I have downloaded Bumble and though I have thought of downloading other apps, I can’t really multitask so let’s stay with this one for a while and maybe increase the number as I up my dating app skill.

I didn’t know what to put on my profile so I went with the basics:

“Fifth grade jokes and good food

Born in Argentina but grown in Brazil

I’m a TFT Master as of now”

Let me stop the story to explain the last line and, in doing so, explain the title of this first chapter. It was supposed to be called “Chapter 1 - The Challenger” because love is a challenge blablabla you get it. Thing is, I’m a TFT player (TFT is the auto-chess from league of legends) and the TFT tiers go like this: Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Diamond, Master, Grandmaster, and Challenger. I’m still only a Master but maybe one day I’ll become a Challenger.

Back to the Bumble profile after the nerdness overdose.

I added five pictures: Two without filters, one with a reference to World Pride and one wearing a McLovin t-shirt. (So that people know as much as possible of the "real" me).

Show me: I’m open to date anyone

Height? 5’9”

Exercise? Active (not 100% true but whatever, I play tennis twice a week) 

Star sign? Pisces

Education? Undergraduate degree

Drinking? Socially

Smoking? Never

Gender? Cis woman

Looking for? Don’t know yet (because “the partner of my dreams, someone to share our short time on Earth with” wasn’t an available option)

My interests (select five): Anime, Cooking, Deep chats (hope people read this for what it is: gossiping), Tennis and Writing.

It has been six hours since I created my profile and let me tell you my first impressions.

There weren’t many women in my area (or the algorithm didn’t show them) but most of the ones that it showed me were too aggressive in their bios. “If you don’t know how to chat, swipe left”, “don’t wanna waste my time” and so forth. I sort of get where they are coming from but honestly it scared me. Do I know how to chat? I don’t know, do you? Is there really any time wasted when living? Me says no. That’s sad because some of those girls were really pretty but those bios were too much for me.

Point is: No match with ladies yet.

Not one fluid gender in my area. Go on androgynous gods, keep your secrets.

And then there’s guys. 

Guys in Australia have this thing where they don’t post a single picture of them alone and sometimes the pictures are always of the same group of friends. Buddy, how am I supposed to know which one you are? That said, there were some very nice bios out there. 

One guy said his job was “priest” and he had nice tattoos and we matched because luck is scarce but hasn’t vanished yet. Let’s see how the conversation evolves.

There was this one guy who had a Snapchat IA bio written “If you want to get a pepperoni pizza, I’m your girl”. I like my boys anyway they come, be it a gentleman or a baby girl, I’ll treat them all well. The conversation with this one didn’t last too much though, he wasn’t as funny and interesting to me as his bio and I probably wasn’t as interesting to him either.

Another one had a pretty smile, liked board games and he asked me about TFT. I hope the conversation flows but not sure if it will.

I had 11 matches but only the three people I mentioned replied to my messages. Dating apps are though, I forget it’s not like the movies where people start swiping and find the perfect person within the first five minutes but I hope to get a date this weekend so I can write about it because writing about swiping is about as fun as swiping and let me tell you: it isn’t fun at all.

[rossalotus]

Hello! I just posted a new fic for the BokuAka Exchange!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46910344

[rossalotus]

- You are my star.

- You are my world.

[rossalotus]

“Koutarou, you have to stop this.” Keiji says, offering Koutarou a condescending look and though not even that deep down Koutarou knows what he means, he can’t stop himself from snatching and yelling

“My volleyball career? I don’t get hurt because I want to, Keiji, I do it once in a while because it’s my job”

“I’m not debating that, I’m just saying you don’t need to give your 120% every day of your life”

“I do, though. I do because this is all I’m good for, because without volleyball I’m nothing and you should have know this better than anyone!”

Keiji’s eyes widen at the statement and Koutarou knows he had pushed too far but he needed it. He needed to let it out and now he’d handle Keiji’s retaliation because he’s an adult, a responsible one. That is not enough to prepare him for what he’s about to hear, though

“You are my husband, Koutarou!” Keiji yells and the seed of a tear shines in his eyes. “I don’t care if you are a volleyball player or an accountant. I just care that you live many many long, happy years by my side and if you keep on getting yourself hurt you might live through long age but god knows you’ll be miserable if you can’t move in a healthy way! Can’t you see that?”

Koutarou can see that. He knows that, but he prefers to ignore it, living the moment, bringing Keiji another Olympic medal, making his husband proud.

“Don’t you ever think of us getting old? Don’t you want to live for that, too?” Keiji added, sobbing by now.

Words didn’t find their way out Koutarou’s lips, though, but despair took over him. Of course he wanted to grow old with his Keiji, he just wanted to be happy with him now, too. By now, he knew he had misjudged Keiji’s happiness. Overwhelmed by the sports world and the way athletes seem to only be valuable as long as they play, Koutarou started to value himself the same way, forgetting how much more he meant to the one he loved than his job or his medals. Koutarou meant the world to Keiji just as much as Keiji meant the world to him. How could he be so blind?

Still muted by his own stupidity, Koutarou did the only thing he knew how to do and got up to his husband, cupping his cheeks and kissing him before locking his arms around him. Neither said a word and the only sounds in their living room were Keiji’s little sobs. Until, finally, Koutarou could speak again.

“I’m sorry for being so selfish. I love you, I want to grow old with you, I want to come home to you every day of my life. Especially today.”

Keiji raised his gaze to meet Koutarou’s. “I thought you had forgotten.”

“Never.”

Today was their day, and Koutarou would make sure to cherish it now and every year that is to come

[rossalotus]

🎵🖤

“Dude, how many opening acts does Kenma have?!”

Kuroo sighs, so loudly that Bokuto has no trouble hearing it over the din of the club. He pushes a pint of beer in Bokuto’s direction, across the wooden bar. It’s obviously a peace offering.

“Chill out, he should be up after this one,” Kuroo says. “I told you he’s performing at ten. It’s not even 8:30.”

Bokuto pouts into his drink. He knows he’s being childish, but he’s just not really into the deejay scene. He doesn’t see the appeal, even though he knows it is a talent. 

Kenma has definitely earned his popularity. What he does isn’t as easy as it looks; Bokuto knows this and likes supporting his friend. And Kenma IS his friend—not only his best friend’s boyfriend.

Still, he prefers other types of entertainment. Like outdoor festivals. Rock concerts. Live sports.

Dark, claustrophobic clubs blasting electronic dance mixes just isn’t his thing.

He watches, bored, as the stage crew sets up for the next artist. There have been two others so far, each a bit more popular than the next. Kenma of course is saved for last. 

Kuroo pokes him in the side, hopping off his stool and hoisting his fancy DSLR camera up on one shoulder. “Let’s go, I need to get a good spot in the photo pit.”

Bokuto groans. “I can see the stage fine from here.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Like hell am I leaving you alone to get wasted tonight. Anyway, you agreed to take some videos for Kenma’s Instagram, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, for Kenma,” Bokuto says, following Kuroo as they weave through the crowd. “Not his opening acts.”

“But the next guy is Kenma’s close friend,” Kuroo explains. “They’ve been deejaying together since college. We should show him support, too.”

Bokuto sighs, defeated. “Fine.”

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