#I did this in like 15 minutes or something

[nerdylosernat]

Can you write headcannons about Nat x R where they got back together despite being divorced as they realized they still love each other? Thank you!

MY SHAYLA SORRY FOR NOT SEEING THIS | SFW

First of all, r is making it hard for Nat to take her back. R allowed Natasha for a second chance, that means more time spent with Natasha and the kids.

One time, when Nat is not asking or should I say begging for another chance yet, the babysitter which was Kate contacted Nat (she was Nat's spy, because she is a big shipper of r and Nat) that r is leaving and she's "fixing" herself up. Nat was confused since whenever you have something to do you would ask her to take the kids instead of having someone to babysit them. She immediately drove to your home, "Where is she?" Kate could only shake and point towards your room, the kids screamed in happiness when they saw Natasha but she just quickly kissed them both and immediately rushed to your room which was your shared room before. There, she saw you trying on some dress. She saw your bare back as you slip some dress on, you jumped when she stalked towards you and kneel. "Please don't go, please don't go on your date, baby, please." She was hugging your thighs, her head on your stomach as she cried like a kid, "Baby please, please. I can't see you seeing someone please. Give me another chance, please baby allow me to make it right, Y/N." You were crying now as well, trying to push her by her shoulders, "Nat, please stop." Only for her to tighten her hug on your thighs, she was burrying her forehead on your stomach as she sob. "No, no, no. I am not letting you go, I will not see you go away again this time. P-please...baby, once chance baby please?" Your make up was ruined, the tears are now unstopabble, "I really need to go, Nat. It's either you drive me to our company night or cry like a child here." It was a final decision of yours to go to the company party so you weren't able to contact Nat. You're not going on a date, she realized then she stood, fixed herself, wiped her swollen face messily. You giggled at the sight and did it yourself and kissed her cheek softly. It was something. She pulled you towards her and almost kissed you on your lips but you immediately stopped her, "No, touching, you haven't earned that yet. Zip my dress up and wait for me downstairs." You instructed her like a mother scolding it's child. Then you turned around and zipped you dress, she was fighting the urge not to kiss your shoulder but she listened like a good wife she is.

As for Nat making it up, she's always following your around and the kids carrying all your stuff and all the stuff kids bought on the mall. While you are hand in hand with the kids, but when you are now in the restaurant and you saw Natasha's tired look, you reward her with a kiss on a cheek and you would pay for the food.

She would always bring you flowers whenever she go to your home, a bouquet of flowers and 1 each for your kids.

Having Natasha back at home is like having 3 kids. One time you gave your second born a timeout for spilling your coffee not knowing that it was Natasha's fault for playing with her too much. She left your daughter on the crime scene. But Natasha admitted when she saw your kid, so both of them received a time out, Natasha sitting in front of the wall, pouting like a kid while you carry your second born, spoiling and apologizing to her. Natasha having to hear the kisses and smooches you give your daughter and her looking back with a frown, "Natalia! Additional 15 minutes!" She could only whimper and look back at her beautiful scenery of a white wall. "Dammit." She murmured under her breath, "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, I heard that, additional 10 more minutes!"

You wouldn't let her touch you, you would be the one initiating the small touches not until you finally let her during your first date.

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 21

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20

• ··········· • ············ •

The night was bright, the moon and the stars illuminating the room at the Academy you were now standing in. You were sitting on a wheely bench, swaying from side to side, your fancy attire contrasting with the uniformed man sitting beside you. 

The blackboard in front of you was filled with a familiar chicken scratch. You grinned at it. Man is a genius, but gods forbid he wrote anything legible. There was a 3D schematic next to the list. 

"What was that shape again?" You asked, smiling mischievously, and heard the Zaunite scientist chuckle low after sighing.

"It is a dodecahedron."

"Say it again."

He snorted, looked you dead in the eye, and said it again, accentuating every syllable.

"Do-de-ca-he-dron."

"Sounds much better when you say it." You winked and saw his face redden quickly. It was cute, and you had recently found you enjoyed his cuteness. You wanted to pull this side of him out more.

You’d met a while ago; you being one of Jayce’s old friends, he took no time to introduce you to his new lab partner. And you two took no time in becoming entangled. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the attraction was there.

Looking away from the man, you studied the blackboard. Your head tilted to the side, your perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

You’d been drawn to it as soon as you entered the dark Tallis Lab. The dinner at the mansion had become boring, and you'd decided to disrupt Viktor's evening with your presence. Not that he minded; at least it wasn't what his tired smile told you when he opened the door to the lab to find you there, staring with an overly innocent smile on your face.

He had invited you in and told you to wait for a couple of minutes until he was done with his work. That had been an hour and a half ago, and at some point, he stopped apologizing.

And now here you were, hypnotically staring into a badly erased blackboard, with something written on it and a schematic that did nothing but fill you with curiosity. So much so that you got up from your seat next to Viktor to stand in front of it.

“It is not a painting in a museum, you know.” His voice came from behind you, the telltale sounds of him getting up and walking toward you loud in the empty lab.

"I do have to find something to do while waiting for a certain Undercity scientist to find out I'm waiting on him." You bit back at him and heard him chuckle as he limped towards you. “Besides, exactly how many museums have you ever visited?”

His hand snaked around your waist and stayed there, pulling you gently into him. You felt the scent of oil, parchment, and coffee coming out of him along with a smile on his lips as he breathed you in and nuzzled up to your neck, the ghost of a kiss near your ear making you smile.

"Maybe you'd like to take me to some sometime."

"Sure, should I schedule that before or after your 24-hour shift in the lab?" You looked sideways at him, and he shook his head; a tired sigh was the only thing that came out of him, though.

“What is it anyway?” You felt him place his chin on your shoulders, and you grabbed his forearm, making soft circles on his skin. “Not the shape…the whole thing.”

“The core facets of the arcane.” He simply hummed, his fingers drawing lazily, stroking your waist as he swayed you both gently from side to side. “It is for a project I’m working on. But most of these we add to the hex gems for them to work.”

"And what is this project you are working on?" He shrugged.

"I cannot say. If it all goes well, it can change everything."

"Everything?" He nodded confidently. "Well, reaching for the stars, aren't we?"

"Well, funny enough, one of those symbols is for the moon." He traced a symbol in the air, and you realized that the bullets from the bullet list were, in fact, symbols. 

“You need to get better at writing so that someone else can read it.” You squinted at the blackboard.

“Jayce can read it, and that's all that matters.” You felt him shrug nonchalantly.

If Viktor's words were a pain to read, the smaller scratches next to them were downright impossible to decipher. 

“What are they? The facets I mean.”

He straightened up but didn’t move, only adjusting his crutch and his grip on you to find a good position. The back of your head rested against his chest, and you felt his slow breathing.

“The first are the natural facets: air, earth, fire, and water. Then the heavenly bodies: the moon and the sun. And then the forces of magic: chaos and order.”

“That’s eight of them. The dodecahedron has twelve sides. You finished the question with a kiss on his jaw. 

“We are still trying to figure out the rest.”

“I guess you two have to do something inside this big room to warrant the absurd amount of money you are being given by the Academy.” You joked and looked at him as his eyes dropped to you disapprovingly. “I’m joking. Tell me more.”

“We have come to some conclusions.” He started, his voice becoming animated. “For example, magic in itself cannot kill or give life, because you cannot kill a rock or bring a rock to life. But if certain sediments find themselves in the right order, a rock can be created, the same way that if something chaotic happens in the process, the rock may not be a rock at all. It becomes corrupt.”

“Are we bribing a rock now?” You joked, and he moved his fingers on your waist, tickling you and making you shriek.

“Not that type of corruption. Think of it as any condition that can deteriorate something.”

“Why aren’t those two in there? Create and corrupt?”

“Chaos and order…”

“No…” you argued, lifting a finger to shush him. “Chaos and order are different things. Chaos doesn’t necessarily corrupt, and order doesn’t create. You can create through chaos and corrupt through order.”

Viktor stayed silent for a while, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. After a few minutes, he disentangled himself from you, and an impressed expression showed on his face, which you returned with a smug one. He walked over to the board and wrote what you assume were those two words with white chalk.

“If we add corruption as something that deteriorates…then we must add what deteriorates the most.” He pointed the chalk to you, and you raised your eyebrows. “Time.”

“If you add time, you might as well add space. Like... physical space... distances, dimensions, measurements, and whatnot.” You walked over to him, grabbed the chalk, and added your suggestion. "If you physically place a rock in a location with the right conditions, it can become a pebble."

“I’ll make a scientist out of you someday.” He grabbed your hand and placed the chalk on its little sill under the board.

“Yuck.” You grimaced dramatically. “And be stuck in this dark hole with y’all without getting the chance to leave whenever I want? Blah... thanks, I’ll pass.”

“I could make your time spent in this lab very much worth it." He took a small step towards you. "After hours, that is…”

You raised an eyebrow at his forwardness. This whole thing between you two was weeks long, and although Viktor's demeanor was a little cold and collected most of the time, he liked to throw these jabs just to see your reaction. 

“Why spend that time at the lab when there's a perfectly good mansion?” You grinned, and he rolled his eyes jokingly.

Viktor’s cold hands came up to your face and held it, gently looking into your eyes with a loopy, tired smile, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. He moved a piece of hair from your forehead, gently caressed the space between your brows, and placed a kiss there. 

“What if it is just a little bedroom over at the Academy dorms?” He whispered into your ear, and you smiled, moving so you could look at him.

“It'll do, I guess...” You joked, and he laughed, grabbing your hand and moving you towards the workstation. 

You saw him go around the lab turning machines off, placing schematics in drawers. He grabbed his satchel and placed a couple of those in there with his notebook and pencil.

Before walking out the door, you looked back at the board, still curious about that subject. Your neat handwriting in the middle of Viktor's.

'Space'

"Are you hearing me?" Viktor asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No... I never do really. I'm just here for the pretty face." He blushed and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the lab, already rambling about the hexgate inauguration and how much he didn’t want to go.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd

[theactualsunshinechild]

If Castorice is cursed to kill whoever she touches and Mydei is cursed to be immortal, do you think Mydei ever goes to Castorice on a really bad day and is like, hey can you put me down for a bit please? I'm having these phantom pains from fatal wounds and injuries that don't exist anymore and they're keeping me up, I want a nap.

And obviously at first Castorice is like "L-lord Mydei, please rethink this, death is not something to be trifled with! Even with your condition, I cannot guarantee your safe return..." and Mydei takes the time to reassure her that, no, he's sure about this, and yes he is willing to bear the risks, no he doesn't care if it will hurt, please euthanize him. It takes a bit of convincing but eventually she agrees to risk it, and, fear in her heart, gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Mydei wobbles and collapses dead on the spot. Castorice lets go and starts fretting internally, stepping back and circling around, frantically searching for any sign of life. How long does it usually take for Mydei to come back? Will he come back at all? Her own curse is clearly effective on him after all... To her relief, it only takes a few seconds for Mydei's eyes to flutter open again to find himself supine, with limbs bent at various awkward angles from the way he ragdolled.

It was a very peaceful few seconds, no pain, no blood, just an pleasant floating sensation as the familiar dark waves of the Styx rocked him side to side gently, before a bright guiding light forcibly pulled him right back. If not for the uncomfortable position he came to in, he'd even say the experience did some old aches a lot of good. The slight relieved smile that comes across her face as he explains this belies how many years of uncertainty and grief she's experienced over the many deaths she had enacted prior. She must have had no way of knowing for sure, until now, whether or not the deaths she delivered were as gentle as she hoped, Mydei realized.

It takes slightly less convincing to have Castorice try again. This time, they arrange more comfortably, Mydei sitting down against a wall, Castorice taking his offered hand in hers. As his hand goes limp in hers, his skin slowly cooling, she draws comforting circles on it with her thumb, more for herself than for his unfeeling body. After several minutes this time, each feeling longer than the last, she lets go and backs away once more, waiting with bated breath for the moment he shudders back to life, taking air back into empty lungs, eyes bright again, fierce, lively and visibly well-rested.

They agree to never exceed 15 minutes, Castorice explaining he would likely not enjoy coming back to the discomfort of gravity having caused all of his stilled blood to pool and settle inside of his body, let alone his body having cooled. Mydei agrees easily and assures her that he will keep his requests for deathly repose infrequent.

Castorice often passes the time Mydei spends dead trying to occupy her hands, the nerves never quite leaving her alone. Knowing logically that Mydei will come back and fearing that maybe he won't come back this time are two separate things after all. She tries many things, from bringing a scroll to read, to embroidery, shoulder pressed to his, trying to ignore how much bolder the red tattoos look against the pallor of a dead man. When Mydei wakes to Castorice's fingers pricked and bleeding for the third time, he frowns and offers for her to braid his hair next time if she wishes.

The next time, a month later, they arrange slightly differently, Castorice sitting on a bench, Mydei lowering his head into her lap, his hair an offering she wills herself to accept. Having assisted with many a funeral rite, Castorice is able to lose herself in the process of carefully weaving the messy soft locks into shape. The texture is strangely soothing, despite how unnaturally still Mydei remains, and Castorice imagines that this must be similar to what it feels like to pet a lion's fluffy mane. When the sand stops flowing, Castorice moves Mydei's head out of her lap to walk five places away once more. He comes to, gasping for breath as usual, and reaches up to feel at the new braids he sensed in his hair. A ghost of a smile graces his face when he finds them to be satisfactory, and he wears them for the rest of the day as a sign of appreciation. Castorice fiddling with his hair while he is dead quickly becomes the standard for their little meetings. Sometimes he wakes up with no new braids, but he doesn't question it so long as Castorice doesn't appear to be in any distress.

The first time Phainon spotted Mydei with his head in Castorice's lap, Castorice gently running her fingers through his hair as if he were a very large cat, Phainon almost passed them by with how peaceful they looked...

Then did a double take and panicked.

Anyway, that's my headcanon at least for how Castorice can say that the death she brings with her touch is peaceful. I think discovering that killing Mydei with her touch grants him what is essentially a banger nap from his perspective, probably helped her find an amount of peace in those early years. Truly putting the rest in "putting to rest"with this one.

Obviously she'd still prefer to be able to touch people and creatures without having them die, but at least she has learned that it isn't painful when she kills this way.

Additionally I like to imagine that while being killed by Castorice feels soothing, getting killed normal ways feels like shit, painful the whole way through, and then you get dunked violently into the Styx. And for Mydei specifically, it's more like he gets dunked into the Styx only to get yoinked right out, soul still sopping wet and cold, and forced back into a body that is fully repaired but it's happened so fast to him that his nerves have him feeling the aftershocks of the injuries that are already gone.

[chiasaaa]

— anything for you

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: sae finds himself doing things he wouldn’t normally do. all for you.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— itoshi sae knew he was beyond saving the moment he set his phone against his pillow and clicked the record button, holding up three boxes of what seemed to be pr boxes for the brands he’s sponsoring.

no, said brands did not require him to film the pr boxes. they only wished for him to use and test it out in an attempt to gain his brutally honest feedback. so why is it that he has his camera open to do a little review?

it’s because he’s deeply and undeniably in love with a so-called idiot named you. you have him wrapped around your finger, and sae was the one to curl your fingers around him for you. a little while ago—right after emerging from the shower of his hotel room—he sent a photo of the three pr boxes that laid on his bed. his manager did tell him he’ll drop it off around the night.

itoshi sae: they’re here.

itoshi sae: [sent an attachment]

you: ohhh! unboxing vid, pls!

itoshi sae: not my thing

you: aww :PP

you: anyhoo, don’t forget to eat dinner!

you: i’m just pinning my sketches in the new mood board, then i’ll head back home.

he knew there was nothing else to your response. sure, you were a bit dampened by how he flat out rejected your request, but you’re not one to dwell in such silly things either. sae knew that you would be the last person on earth forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do, and video reviews might as well be nonexistent in his vocabulary.

even so, he decided to give it to you. reviews of the products he’s sponsoring.

oh, may god save his soul.

“we’ll start with this one.” he holds up a pastel yellow box displaying the name of his favorite skincare brand. “i heard they’re releasing a new formula for my moisturizer that’s less sticky. if it works well, then i’ll be using that for my games.”

he takes out a tube from the box and showed it to the camera, plucking the lid open. “the bottle’s bigger than the previous one too, and the design’s more minimal. i like it.”

for the next hour, itoshi sae filmed each and every reaction he had for every product he tested, telling you his brutally honest reviews and picking out which ones he considered purchasing upon launch.

sae didn’t even bother screening the videos before sending them to you, well-aware that you prefer his rawest form than anything else. it is a factor as to why he feels so lucky being with you. though, he’d never admit it right at your face, he simply hopes he shows it enough.

imagine the look on your face when you just finished locking up your office, fishing your phone out to let him know you’re about to head home. instead, you were met with three 15-minute long videos of each promotional box sent to him.

itoshi sae: [sent 3 attachments]

itoshi sae: i have to admit, i like the new sunscreen the most. i’ll contact the company and have another delivered to you.

itoshi sae: you should also try the lip glaze. i remember you’ve been complaining about how your lips dry up in the winter. i’ll give it to you next week when you fly over.

your heart swelled at the sight of him actually filming his reactions, nearly slamming into a lamp post if it wasn’t for your driver tugging you back lightly to prevent you from doing so.

you: you really filmed!

you: i’ll watch it on the way home!

you: i love you, querido <3

and your appreciative messages were enough for sae to know that leaving his heart to rest upon your care is the best thing he’s ever done. you have always been the most positive influence in his life, and you never shame him for anything he does out of his character.

itoshi sae: i love you. head home safe.

[enchantedtomeetyou1113]

post war Levi! x reader

Let me down slowly

______________________________

Summery: you and Levi live in your own small home after the war ended years before. You’ve been distant and he doesn’t know why.

-

A/n : hi! So basically I think I’m slowly becoming a song fic enthusiast it’s honestly an obsession. this is inspired by ‘let me down slowly’ by Alec Benjamin. Yes I know blast from the past I seen Alec post him playing it on guitar on TikTok and it inspired me to listen which inspired me to write this-I hope you enjoy!!!

-

Warnings: sad Levi . Angst . Hurt/comfort . Sfw

———————————————————————-

One week. One week of y/n being distant towards him. Sure they talk but not like the usual quiet conversations they share. There’s no comfortable silences and there hasn’t been soft whispers in the dark. Why? A question Levi asked over 100 times.

“Sorry I’ve just been in my head..” she’d reply with everytime, promising to give him attention after she finished with whatever task she’s so busy with.

And everytime he’d find her picking up a new task,and then another and another until she claims she’s too tired to stay up. Everytime she ends up sleeping while Levi lies awake fighting with his own fears and overthinking.

‘Did I do something?’

‘Is there someone else?’

These thoughts haunted his mind along with countless more. Levi was never good at voicing his feelings especially when it was ones that deemed him as weak or vulnerable.

So he fell asleep on the opposite side of their shared bed,feeling more and more restless without her normal proximity. His usual routine of holding her close until they both snored softly now changed into her falling asleep first curled up in her own little ball and Levi staying up staring at her until flipping over with his back facing the sleeping girl.

Hours later he woke up hearing footsteps sounding like they were coming from the kitchen and into the small bathroom down the small hallway. He blinked away the remaining sleep noticing the empty spot beside him.

Levi stood up feeling the cold floor and dragged himself up and through the little hallway to the bathroom door.

He knocked softly “y/n?” His voice laced with sleep and worry. “Are you alright? Why are you up so late?”

He heard rustling in the bathroom before he heard her small voice. “Im fine-“ He didn’t believe her from the sound of her voice. He furrowed his brows “okay.. come back to bed when you’re done,yeah?” He didn’t hear anything else after that and he stayed a few moments before walking back to the cold bedroom that used to be warm.

He waited laying face up on their bed. Staring at the ceiling waiting for his girl to come back. His patience was growing thin as 15 minutes passed by until he heard the floorboards creek under her steps as she came around the corner into the dark room.

He took this as an opportunity,an open door of sorts to finally talk to her about what’s really going on.

“Hey,” he starts his eyes not looking at her figure as she crawled onto her side on the bed. He felt himself get choked up trying to think of the right thing to say to get her to open up.

“Hi..” she said back. His eyes trailed to her and he wanted to sink into a hole and hide from the unreadable look on her face. It also wasn’t helping that he felt his eyes burn with unwanted tears.

‘Of course she doesn’t love me, look at me. I’m missing an eye,I have 1 and a half of a hand ugly scars that take up half of my face-‘ Levi was thinking to himself his own voice feeling like a drum in his ears and before he realized his arms wrapped around her pulling her in tighter then ever.

He heard her soft gasp. A man who once had dignity and grace. Who many looked up to and feared,now sat slipping through the cracks of her cold embrace.

“If.. if you’re leaving will you let me down slowly? Can you not string me along? Show me some sympathy or something-“ he breathed out as the hot tears fell down his cheek. “If you want to go-I can’t stop you..but I’ll be lonely” he whispered the last part but she caught it.

He felt her arms wrap around him in return. And his eyes widened slightly. “Levi,” she sighs as he prepares himself for the worst. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” His brows raised and a hopeful but confused expression was plastered on his face. His lips parted slightly but he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I’m sorry…I’ve been so worried that I’m not enough for you and.. and that I’m not enough for anyone that I became distant.” Her eyes don’t meet his when he pulls back to look at her expression.

“What?” His brows furrow for the 10th time tonight. “What the hell makes you think that?”

“It…it started when you had that..nightmare last week..” the memory flashed through his mind.

~

“Darling it’s okay-it’s not real wake up.” She shook him softly.

“Get-get off me!” He struggled in his sleep.

“It’s just me! Come on open your eyes-“

His eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly gasping. He felt his whole body shaking and in a cold sweat. “It’s okay..” she whispered as she rubbed circles on his arm. He shrugged her off as he plopped himself back down. She felt a little hurt but pushed it to the side. “Do.. do you want to talk about it?” “No.” “Are you sure?”

“You can’t help anyways.”

Oh.

~

“Y/n…” he trails off understanding her behavior.

“I just…I just want to be able to help you.. shouldn’t I be the one to?” She whispered

“You do-you are.” He puts his good hand on her cheek cupping her sad face. “You are the only one who helps. And the only one I want to help.. you do more for me then I can ever ask for.” his thumb pets her cheek. She feels tears well up in her eyes and Levi wipes the hot tear as it falls down her face.

“I wouldn’t want it from anyone else. You are the only one I’d ever need.” Her lips turn slightly up and his face mirrors hers.

She moved closer to press her lips onto his and he practically melts into her intoxicating touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his around her waist as he pulls her closer to him. When the kiss breaks he lays down pulling her onto his chest and his fingers find their way into her hair. She sighs in content and both feel the weight on their shoulders lifted.

“You’re not actually allowed to leave.” He says matter of factly.

“Lucky you that’s the last thing on my mind.”

———————————————————————

A/n: you know what I tried 😔 I don’t know how sucky this is but please like and comment your thoughts 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 15: Darlin'

Ao3 | 2.6k Words | Darlin's POV

Sam ambushes Darlin'. Milo gets them ready. Darlin' looks in the mirror. Milo and Sweetheart go out to dinner. Sam and Darlin' too, in their own way.

TW: discussions of childhood poverty, discussions of disordered eating and malnourishment.

Sam decided to ambush you with the question on a call. It was a dirty trick, one that worked remarkably well on you, given that, when the words came out of his mouth, you’d nodded dumbly while loading the hoses back onto the rig. You didn’t even process until halfway back to the station what exactly he had asked you. 

“Holy shit!” You barked as you were tossed by Asher’s wild turns. Milo’s head whipped to you, concern painting his features. 

“What’s wrong?” David snapped from the front, twisting in his seat to look at you. You flushed, suddenly faced with the horror of having to tell David Shaw that your… your Sam had asked you out on a date. You blushed like a teenager having to explain to their dad why their outfit was rumpled after junior prom. 

“Nothing.” You said quickly, staring straight ahead again. You did not want to have this conversation, especially not when you had to have it over the radio to be heard over the rumble of the engines. You would actually rather throw yourself in front of the rig than air your not-so-dirty laundry for the entire rig to hear. 

You pulled into the station a few minutes later and you were up and off the truck before anybody could ask you questions. You had less than about twenty minutes left in your shift, and you had two hours after that before you needed to meet Sam for dinner. He’d thrown out the name of a restaurant, but it was in some foreign language and sounded ten times more fancy than what you were used to. You were fairly certain that you’d be kicked out wearing your DFD shirt and joggers, but that wasn’t something you had control of at the moment.

David wouldn’t mind if you hit the showers so long as you got to the rig within three minutes of the bell ringing. You could go from naked and soaking wet to geared up and still soaking wet in a very short amount of time. 

“Hey-” Milo caught your arm as you dumped your turnouts and spun you around. “What’s up? You’re acting weird.” You scowled, rolling your eyes. 

“Fuck off.” You muttered. “I’m not. I’m fine.” 

“Sure.” Milo snorted. “Yeah. For sure.” 

“Shut up.” You growled. “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Twenty minutes.” David admonished from the rig. He tugged at the velcro of his turnouts, face drawn. He had started looking worse and worse recently. Quinn had gone radio silent, having not sent another picture since the night you’d told David. You could tell that the absence was worse than the present threat for David. If Quinn was standing in front of him, David would have somewhere to point his focus. As it was, he was a tired guard dog, jerking and biting at every shift and shadow. 

You swallowed your guilt. You’d put him in this place, this state. You nodded sharply. 

“Come on,” Milo bumped his shoulder with yours, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. Stupid, pretty brown eyes. You were such a sucker for assholes like Milo. “Share with the class.” 

You puffed out your breath sharply through your nose and turned away from David. When you admitted it to Milo, it was quiet, secretive. 

“Sam asked me on a date.” You felt embarrassingly like a high schooler when you said it, and cringed back from your own voice. 

“What?” Milo shouted, so much louder than your admission had been. David grumbled his disapproval from his position a few feet away. Milo ignored him and turned to face you square on, grabbing your shoulders in each hand. “Where?” 

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “Some fancy place. Some sort of… French? Name?” 

“La Récolte?” Milo demanded, his voice cracking with disbelief. “I’ve been trying to get into that place for months!” 

“I don’t know man, he’s taking me.” You shook yourself out of his grasp and started moving towards the showers. You were feeling distinctly vulnerable talking about this out in the open. You wanted a wall at your back if you were going to keep spilling your guts to him. 

“Well when’s your reservation?” 

“He just told me he’d pick me up at six.” 

“Okay, good, that gives us some time.”

“Time?” You came to a stop and turned, facing Milo down. “Time for what?” 

“Well, I don’t think you have shit to wear to a place like La Récolte.” Milo rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So you’ll come over and borrow something from me.” 

“I’m like… half a foot taller than you.” You laughed. Milo shoved your shoulder to turn you back around. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” He said as he started bodily pushing you towards the showers. “At the very least, we need you not to smell like fucking smoke.” 

In the end, Milo did find something in his near endless closet for you to wear. You weren’t sure how he afforded all of those clothes on a firefighter’s salary, but you couldn’t knock him for liking fine things. You knew that, much like yourself, Milo hadn’t come from much. He had wanted plenty as a kid, and he found a way not to anymore. You couldn’t deny a man a thousand fancy suits if it meant he got to step away from that ever present need that lingered in you from your childhood. You wondered if it crept up in him anyway. 

He had a loose, maroon suit that he hadn’t had the time to go get hemmed yet, so the pants only hung about an inch above your ankles. He produced a pair of his boots to go with it and hopefully hide that gap, but you couldn’t shove your foot in them no matter how much you tried. In the end, the two of you settled on you wearing his suit but your boots, no matter how scuffed and dirty they were. 

You stripped out of your DFD uniform, the heather grey t-shirt and fitted pants abandoned on Milo’s bathroom floor as you avoided your reflection in his giant, full body mirror. You could picture him and his partner, preening over each other's pretentious outfits and unfair good looks in this mirror. Your eyes slid to him in the background as he plucked a white shirt out from his collection to bring to you. As he turned, his eyes met yours in the mirror, caught you staring. You cut your gaze away. 

You were forced to look at yourself in the mirror, stripped down to your indecents, and squinted hard. You realized, as you cut your focus across your form, that you hadn’t really looked at your reflection in a long while. Your hair was longer. The stab wound that Sam had stitched up had settled into a neat, puffy scar on your abdomen. Your hand fell to your stomach, which had been concave and aching for a few months before you returned to Dahlia. Now, it was soft and full. The lines of your abs weren’t as stark. You couldn’t see the curve of your ribs. You weren’t just muscle and skin and bone and blood. You pressed the pads of your fingers into the tender skin, felt it recoil gently. 

“Huh,” you breathed. Milo’s eyes flicked up to you, brow quirked, the spitting image of his mother. 

“What?” He asked. He tossed his chosen button up to you. 

“No just… I’ve gained some weight.” You shrugged. You tugged the shirt on, began to button it. 

“Is that a…” Milo’s voice trailed off, his tone smothered in trepidation. 

“Not a bad thing.” You shook your head as you adjusted the already starched collar. “Just a… thing. I don’t know.” 

“You looked half dead when you first got back to town.” You thought he was probably trying for a joke, but his voice betrayed him, painted a clear picture of the fear and worry your state had caused him. 

“Guess I am looking a bit less skeletal these days, huh?” You found the punch line for him. He chuckled, shaking his head. 

The suit didn’t look half bad on you, especially when Milo fussed over your hair and draped you in one of his gold chains and a few of his rings. You had tried to refuse the jewelry, but he had insisted that he couldn’t stand a look unfinished. You ended up agreeing just to get him to shut up. 

Sam knocked on Milo’s front door at six on the dot, right as Milo finished his ‘detail work’ as he called it. He rushed for the door before you could and threw it open, grinning as Sam stepped in. 

“Well, don’t you look handsome.” Milo cooed, brushing his hand over the shoulder of Sam’s navy suit. You stepped out from the bedroom and took him in. 

The suit was obviously tailored, and it fit him like a fucking glove. The trousers lined his long legs and scooped around his hips tantalizingly. You trailed your eyes over the line of his jacket as he fixed the top button, fingers shaking and struggling for just a moment before he got it. The buttons were big, probably to combat that very problem. His white shirt was perfect and unbuttoned just enough to show off a brush of chest hair, dotted with grey. 

You were drooling. You closed your mouth and swallowed. 

Sam’s eyes trailed over you for a moment before he smiled, teeth sharp and sinful. 

“Fancy place, right?” You rasped, suddenly self conscious. You fiddled with the hem of your suit jacket. 

“Yes.” Sam’s eyes flicked to the chain around your neck for a moment before meeting yours again. “Yes, it’s a fancy place. You look perfect.” He realized that he had revealed too much, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. 

“Oh-kay,” Milo clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You crazy kids had better get going. I want no funny business, young man, and you better have ‘em home by midnight or so help me-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes and shoved Milo half-heartedly. You stepped between them, linked your arm with Sam’s when he offered it. 

Sam’s truck was nice. His suit was fitted and probably cost more than everything you owned. He was taking you to a place Milo was longing to get into. 

One of these people was not like the other. 

You gripped your hand into a fist as he pulled up outside of the restaurant. It was a small, black building with its name emblazoned in backlit silver lettering. A kid in his twenties wearing a three piece suit ran up to the driver’s side door as Sam threw his truck into park and stepped out. Somebody opened your door and extended a gloved hand to help you out of the car. 

You froze, staring at that extended hand. You did not belong here. 

“Darlin’,” Sam’s voice cut through the fog that was overtaking your mind, “you okay?” You turned to look at him, and your face must have betrayed you, because his expression softened, brow down turned as he examined you with the intensity of a healer. 

“Fine.” You said quickly. Sam was taking you- you- out to a fancy place. He wanted to be seen in public with you. He wanted to parade you around in a borrowed, ill-fitting suit like you were some fucking prize to be won. You wouldn’t ruin the night for him because you felt out of place. 

“No.” He shook his head, sitting back in the driver’s seat. “No, you’re not.” You sneered, turned away from him. You didn’t want him to read anything else from your face like you were an open fucking book. 

“I’m fine.” You reiterated. The valet tutted softly and made a big show of looking back at the line that had gathered behind Sam’s truck. You wanted to pull your hair out. You wanted to find some place to hide. “Seriously.” 

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” Sam asked softly. “If you… Darlin’ I won’t drag you in here if you’re uncomfortable.” 

You looked up at him, face closed off. His brown eyes stared back at you, unwavering. 

He was serious. 

“Yeah.” You said. You felt that wall you’d thrown up crumble, just a bit. “I mean… as long as you won’t… like I don’t want to cost you money.” 

“It’s fine.” Sam shook his head and pulled his door close. He gave the attendant that had opened your door a pointed look until they closed it. “Don’t you worry about that.” He cranked the truck and peeled out of the parking lot. Your chest eased. “Where do ya want to go?” 

“I’m not… I don’t eat out much.” You admitted. You jerked and dug into your suit pocket to retrieve your phone. “Sorry, one sec, let me-” you scrolled through your contacts and called Milo. 

He answered quickly, like he’d been sitting and waiting for you to report back. 

“What’s wrong?” He demanded, voice strained. 

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “Look, if you can get to La Whatever-the-fuck before seven the reservation’s yours. It’s under-” 

“Solaire.” Sam provided. 

“Solaire.” 

“You’re serious?” Milo squealed. You smiled. 

“Yeah. Wine and dine your sweetheart before I do.” Something crashed on the other end of the line and you heard Milo call their name across the house. You hung up in the middle of his stream of ‘thank-you’s. 

In the end, the two of you parked outside of a Seven Eleven and browsed the fluorescent aisles for dinner. You found out, in that shitty, near empty gas station, that Sam snorted when he laughed too hard. That he preferred original Cheetos to flaming ones. That he wasn’t afraid of a gas station hot dog, no matter how many horrors he’d seen in his time in the ER. That he loved root beer, which was a crime you just couldn’t forgive. 

You carried your haul back out to the parking lot and sat, shoulder to shoulder, knees pressing together, on the curb, eating your shitty snacks and trying to put a dent in your Big Gulps. 

“Thanks.” You said softly, mouth still half-full of your third hot dog. “For… yeah. Thanks.” 

“Course.” Sam answered easily. He seemed lighter, less tense than he had when he picked you up. He looked fucking good in that suit (so fucking good, God, you wanted to take it off with your teeth), but he also looked… uncomfortable. Probably about how you looked. “I don’t want you feeling out of place.” He shrugged, like accommodating your bullshit was the easiest thing in the world for him. “Besides, that place is more Vincent’s speed.” He laughed softly. 

“Oh, I can see that.” You grinned. “Pretty princess eating eight tiny French bullshit courses.” 

“And don’t forget lavender flavored air for dessert.” 

You waggled a twinkie in front of Sam’s face. “I’ll take this any day.” 

Sam laughed, snagged the twinkie from your hand. You chased after it as he leaned away until you were practically in his lap. Your eyes met his, his hand fell to your hip. He kissed you for the first time since New Years, and his touch still made you feel like you were crashing down through the atmosphere, like you were burning up and falling apart.

Maybe you could forgive the root beer if you could always taste it on his tongue. 

“Yeah,” Sam gasped when you broke apart, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed serenely. “Me too.”

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Burn Without Flame” 

Author:  Tossukka @sitruunavohveli Artist: Aggiedoll

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: None Length: 12,000 words Tags:  Human AU, Firefighter Dean, Detective Cas, Mutual Pining Relationships: Dean/Castiel, side Charlie/Dorothy, past Cas/April

Summary:  

In his work as a firefighter, Dean gets to help people and has once again been chosen to model for the next year’s first responder calendar. Castiel is new in town after a bad break-up forces him to move. He is a detective assisting in fire investigations which is how he first meets Dean. After a few hiccups on the road, they begin to build a friendship, with mutual wishes that it could grow into something more.

But Cas’ past is about to come back to haunt him and it’s doing its best to stop him from building the future he wants.

Excerpt: 

Dean was fixing the fire engine, enjoying some alone time he didn’t often get during workdays. He was humming a tune, when he heard footsteps approaching him. Expecting to hear Bobby asking about the engine, Dean answered before he heard the question.

“Just figured out where the problem is, Bobby,” he said. “I’ll be right with you!”

He spent a few minutes yanking off a part that looked like it had seen better days. Dean smiled and scrolled from under the engine, holding the broken part in his hand, when he looked up to see a devastatingly handsome man in a full suit standing next to the vehicle.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry for making you wait,” Dean said, putting the broken part down and grabbing a towel to wipe his hands as clean as he could. He was sweaty, covered in engine grease, and wearing an old pair of jeans and a dirty t-shirt. Not the image he wanted to give to a gorgeous guy on the first meeting.

“It’s no problem,” the man said, looking at Dean intensely as he got back on his feet. “I have a meeting with the fire investigation team.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Not to be rude, but I’ve never seen you before. Who did you say you are?”

“I didn’t,” the man said. “Detective Castiel Novak. You wouldn’t have seen me before, because I just switched here.”

“Alright. Give me a moment,” Dean muttered and took out his phone to call Garth. “Hey, is your team expecting visitors? I’ve got a guy here.”

“Yes, I’m waiting for Castiel Novak. Check his badge and send him in,” Garth said brightly.

“Sure thing. Thanks,” Dean said and ended the call. “Could I see your badge first?”

Castiel pulled out his badge and Dean nodded.

“This way then,” Dean said and led Castiel to the office corridor. “Down the hall and you’ll find the fire investigators near the end. There should be a sign.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said. Dean followed him with his eyes until he disappeared into the room.

Posting date:  March 15, 2025

[byte-babe]

Femme Boy

Characters - Pete Kowalski

Summary - Pete wonders if there's something different about him.

Word Count - 1,050

Warnings - Talks of transgenderism

A/N - This is my first time really writing anything so it's probably not that good (in my opinion). Please leave your opinions because it would help me get better and/or make me feel more confident :]

“Femme boy“ was a nickname given by Gary that stuck to Pete like a leech since his first year at Bullworth. He never understood why, out of all the nicknames under the sun, he chose “Femme boy”.

It was stupid, nothing about Pete was feminine.

Sure, he was weak and shorter than almost everyone else, and wore a pink button up under his vest, didn’t participate in sports or any other masculine activities, but it didn’t make him feminine. Lots of people were like him.

But why did that stupid nickname bother him so much. Every time it came out of Gary’s mouth or from the bullies or jocks, it just kept repeating in his head like a broken record.

“He’ll say anything to get under my skin. It’s a dumb way of making me feel smaller than I already am.” Pete would think, as if he was convincing someone other than himself. It got annoying.

Now that Gary was away in Happy Volts, and Pete became the new Head Boy, the nickname had stopped. Or at least others had stopped calling him that.

It still repeated in his head.

”Femme boy. Femme boy. Ugh, shut up. Stop thinking about that. Why am I still thinking about that. Femme boy. Jeez, nothing about me is even feminine, right? Who cares, it shouldn’t bother me anymore. Then why do you keep repeating it, Femme boy… Did I just call myself ‘Femme boy’?

It became a daily routine for him. He would wake up, get ready, and every time he had left the boys' dorm and began his journey to class, he had that same damn conversation with himself.

Eventually, it wasn’t the nickname that bothered him anymore, it was the fact he was genuinely coming to terms with the fact that he was feminine. The worst part was that, deep down, he wanted to be feminine.

”I already get picked on enough. Do I really want this to be another reason? Why can’t I just be normal.. Was this normal?”

He would stand in front of the mirror in his room for minutes before classes started just looking at himself, trying to vision what he’d look like if he gave into the idea of being feminine.

He would even hide away in the library doing some research on his new found thoughts and feeling on the library computers. It was always fairly empty, besides the Nerds hanging around but they never paid him any attention so he wasn't too worried about them leaning over his shoulder.

During his research he found that many other people had the exact same feelings as him. Feeling as if something was missing or out of place, feeling like they weren't who they thought they were. After reading through various forums, it almost felt like weight was being lifted off his shoulders.

It was a normal.

Even after reading and learning that he could possibly be trans, it still didn't cease his thoughts due to the many cons it has to coming out.

”What if I’m just making this all up. Maybe I’m just as crazy as Gary and need to be admitted into Happy Volts too. I’ve spent 15 years as a guy, why am I questioning it all of a sudden?? Maybe I don’t have it all figured out yet. I’m allowed to take my time. Is this selfish? What if my parents hate me because of this? What if I lose Jimmy as a friend. I don't know what I want anymore."

As the school year comes to an end, Pete finds himself sitting at the pier in Old Bullworth Vale, the sounds of crashing waves and gulls, quieting his mind for the first time in weeks only slightly. He was going back home for the summer which meant he could either talk to his parents about his "issue", or keep it to himself until it was forgotten.

“Hey, Pete.” A sudden voice spoke, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Jimmy standing beside him, taking a seat next to him on the bench. He wondered how long he had been standing there for.

“Hey, Jimmy.” The corner of Pete’s mouth curving into one of his awkward smiles.

“You seem pretty out of it. What’s up?” Jimmy asked, draping an arm over the back of the wooden bench.

He had been standing there long enough to notice his friend deep in thought about something.

“It’s nothing.” Pete shook his head, his gaze turning back out to the waves, hands gripping the edge of the bench.

“Y’know, you’re really bad at lyin’ when it comes to sayin’ nothin’s wrong.”

Pete chuckled at that, knowing it was true. “Just.. thinking about next year and what might happen.”

“Hopefully nothin’. This year was hell enough dealin’ with all those maniacs and Gary.”

Knowing how this year went down, along with Pete’s knowledge of what happened last year, they both know something was bound to happen next year.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, at least Jimmy was, Pete was contemplating a question he wanted to ask the other boy but didn’t know how to execute it. His heart felt heavy and racing like it would explode if he moved even an inch.

“Hey, Jimmy,” He finally spoke. He didn’t even know if Jimmy was paying attention due to his heart basically being in his ears, so he kept talking. “If I were to change something about myself, would you still be my friend?”

“Petey, if i’m gonna be honest, there’s probably nothin’ you could do to make me not be your friend.”

Pete goes quiet, taking in his response. ”Probably.” Was that good enough for him?

He hadn’t notice that he was idly picking at the wood until a hand clapped on his shoulder, making him turn to look at the redhead and stop his subtle movements.

“Whatever change you’re going through, I’ll be there to support you. Even if you end up like Hitler Jr.”

Pete snorted at that, shaking his head as he figured he was talking about Gary.

That was somewhat reassuring and nice to hear. But he could be thinking about any other changes, nothing drastic like what Pete was thinking.

But as long as Jimmy was there, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

I thought I was going to have a straightforward answer and then I realized: what even counts as "morally wrong"? And then spent the next like 15 minutes going through characters and considering if what they did could be considered morally wrong-

Anyway, with perhaps the most directly 'morally wrong' character I like the most, I think I'd go with Don Vincenzo from The Grape Depression? There's something about him that just fascinates me and I quite enjoy it. He lost his own son, decides he wants another one, basically threatens a man to make him one, and then once he actually gets the boy, he straight up sets it on fire

But at the same time he did give the family money and I don't think he was fully morally wrong? - Idk, I can't put my thoughts into words

Some honorable mentions go to James from The Unrelenting Aubergine because I don't think he's really morally wrong necessarily, but he did kind of go mad with power and completely screw over his brother's dreams by flipping the land (the farm that James knew Titch cared so much about), so who knows how far he would've gone with that. But to me he just seems kinda lonely (same with the Don above, actually) and I think that's what draws me to his character

And then Old Lady Margaery who could steal literally everything from me and I would still absolutely adore her. I don't think she's really morally wrong, though. Like, sure, she's a witch that deals drugs but like... Is that necessarily morally wrong? I don't know. She's just kind of giving people what they want? So. I don't think she counts, but I absolutely love her so much

(Quick edit, I forgot Phantom Begruvia from Phantom of Hornchurch, which I also absolutely love, but I don't really know if he's like. Morally wrong???? Like yeah, he went to Hell so I guess that's probably morally wrong. Yeah. Idk, he's cool too - I'm too lazy to add more thoughts about him now but I don't think he did much else morally wrong other than that. And maybe murdering someone???? But like. Maybe he didn't? It's never realllllly stated, so who really knows)

what's your guys' favourite morally wrong character?

ill start, my favourite character is the Father from Burglary and Bobsledding, he starts his role as very financially-starving, accidently stuttering and showing his true motivation on why he wants his boys to grow up to be bobsledders, money.

-in which Helter points out but is sadly ignored

he then ends his character in death, by revealing that he didn't do the gambling for the finance and for bringing money home to the family, he did all the gambling only for the thrill of it. the excitement of spending money.

and he dies. with no good ending or peaceful resolution. just. an absolute heartbreaking story of a bad father

[sunnfish]

[ID: A loose digital drawing of Sasaki and Miyano from Sasaki to Miyano. They are laying down cuddling with their arms wrapped around each other, and Miyano’s leg slung up around Sasaki’s waist. It’s rendered in saturated, loose scribbled colors. /End ID]

Happy first sasamiya of 2024

[ryssbelle]

My cousins made their own troll Ocs and I drew them in my style.

They were very excited about it

[iamthepulta]

i did it u_u

[rigelmejo]

some basic language learning thoughts (based on some common questions i see on reddit forums). as usual, if you don't like the suggestion, feel free to ignore and throw it out! what works best for you will be what works best for you - everyone is different. at the end of the day, if you continue studying (hours add up), study some new stuff (expand your knowledge), and practice/review some stuff you've studied (improve comprehension of what you know), then you'll improve. You can achieve that in a ton of different ways, and any way which motivates you to keep doing it is great.

What's the easiest language to learn? My thought on this question is... it doesn't matter as much as it might feel like it does. If any language is going to take hundreds or thousands of hours of study, you will probably want to have goals that motivate you to study for THAT long, for years. If Danish 'takes less hours to learn' than Thai, but you watch Thai shows everyday and follow thai webnovel writers and twitter, and don't have much interest in anything Danish (and no friends that speak the language), then Thai is going to be 'easier' because you have more reasons to USE it. If Spanish and French seem to take a similar amount of hours to learn, but you're planning to go to school in a French speaking country and get a job there? Well you have a more pressing Need to learn French, that will hopefully help motivate you. The 'easiest' language to learn is the language you have REASONS to learn. The language you will use, and keep using. If you have no pressing reason to learn any language, but want to learn a language? Find reasons. Make goals that require the language.

(Here's one from me - I wanted to learn Japanese, in theory I can mostly do anything I want by just reading/watching/playing translations, however I am the kind of person that really enjoys reading originals in their original form... so that's motivating. My recent kick to study more? A show I want to watch is untranslated, so I better get to studying so I can still watch it.) Your goal can be anything from: I want to visit X, I want to talk to X friend/family better, I want to blog in multiple languages, I want to watch untranslated media, I want to sing my favorite musicians songs easier, I want to work in a country that speaks it, I want access to more recipes in X language, I am into history and want to read a history book from X time period in X language, I want to play a video game before localization, really the sky is the limit on goals you can set. Your goals, and how much you want them, and how often you do the sub-goals (so if reading untranslated cnovels by an author you love is your goal, maybe along the way you read easier webnovels to motivate you and find more writers you like), is going to push you to keep studying. Even if your goal is 'pass language B2 test' if it has a deadline, and it's a goal connected to other goals (like going to work in a country with the language, translating work, writing better), that will keep you motivated. Motivation is what will make a language 'easier.' If you can't find the motivation, even the languages which should take the 'least amount of time' will feel hard.

All that said, I am now about to contradict myself. While I really think motivation is the biggest factor in if you'll keep studying and keep learning... there are languages which due to their similarity to languages you already know, will take less Total Study Hours to make progress. As an English speaker, it only took me 6 months of very lazy unorganized studying (half hour most days) to be able to start reading non-fiction French with only a handful of word lookups per page. A lot of that was because French (especially science words and proper nouns like places) has so many cognates with English. I basically 'had' thousands of words of French I already knew, just because I knew English. It took about a year to read fiction books in French only looking up a handful of words per page, for 'general main idea' comprehension. When studying Chinese, it took me also about 12 months to read fiction, look up a handful of words, and understand the 'general main idea.' But I was studying 2 hours a day. So I studied around 182.5 hours to read French fiction with word lookups, and 730 hours to read Chinese fiction with word lookups. And the Chinese also took longer to learn to read with NO word lookups, since there was no english-cognate carryover to sound-out and over rely on like with French. (Although at a wonderful certain point, you know enough Chinese hanzi that new words are built of mostly hanzi you know, and you can use that to guess the gist of a LOT of new words when extensively reading with no word lookups - that happened for me at about 2 years). My point is: Chinese DOES take more hours of study to reach language skill milestones as an english speaker, compared to French! It took me the same amount of months, because I studied Chinese more hours per day (to make up the difference - and I had a better study plan with Chinese). But if you are a total beginner, and unmotivated and KNOW you will study maybe 1 hour per day and probably not more, then learning a language that is more similar to one you already know WILL take less study hours total to reach skill milestones. And that will hopefully be motivating.

(Another example: I spent 3 months of 1-2 hours a day studying Spanish, and can read Spanish nonfiction - thanks to the similarities to French and English. I can read fiction too but it requires word lookups. Japanese, due to kanji, also got 'easier' to read once I had learned more Chinese hanzi. So if your goals include learning languages with some similarities, then once you learn some of those similarities it will make future learning 'faster.')

I spent a month once studying Esperanto (a constructed language). Do I ever use Esperanto? No. Did I find the experience helpful? Yes. Because Esperanto is designed to be fairly easy for european language native speakers, has no exceptions, it had 1. a lot of similar-words to english so I could practice 'guessing similar words' (a skill I'd use a lot with French and Spanish later), 2. practice guessing what word endings mean grammatically (since Esperanto has no exceptions the grammar patterns are much more obvious than say grammar patterns in French). 3. Practice recognizing spelling to sound connections. Those 3 skills are useful in learning any language, but natural languages will have more exceptions to the patterns.

After spending a month on Esperanto, I saw HUGE progress after studying a few hundred words, noticed a huge amount of grammar patterns and how to notice them, and just generally got the experience of 'this is what skill milestones feel like.' Later, when studying French, I used that experience to recognize French word endings and what they tend to indicate, word functions, patterns in pronunciation, guessing with cognates/similar words, and I knew what the first 'milestones' I was aiming for would be. In a similar pattern: French milestones took me a few months each to hit, so when I studied Chinese later and it was taking 2-3 times as much study time... I knew which milestone to expect myself to 'work toward' and achieve next, and knew what making progress should feel like (even if it felt like it was moving slower) so I didn't give up. I was aware that Chinese language skill milestones might 'take more hours' so I didn't panic when it was taking me almost a year of reading graded readers in Chinese to move on to simple webnovels, whereas in French I'd only been reading graded readers for half a year before I felt ready to move on. I knew the general process, because I'd done it before in a shorter timespan with French, with Esperanto.

Is Esperanto useful to you? Only you know that. I personally did not find it useful in general for me, and didn't continue to study it. But it did teach me 'how' to study a language, what progress to monitor, and gave me the confidence that I was capable of learning.

If you really feel you're incapable of learning any skill in a new language, then spending some time on a language more similar to what you already know (if possible - a language you have motivating goals with), may help you see you are capable and can learn. An addition to this: spend a LOT of hours studying as a beginner, if lack of progress demotivates you. Once you push past the beginner stage, you'll be able to do goal-related things in the language you study and that will keep you motivated. But in the beginning, progress feels slow and you feel very confused. So the more upfront studying you do, the quicker you will push through that hard-to-motivate stage.

Is learning a language that is more similar to ones you know going to take less hours of study? Probably. But either way, motivation over hundreds or thousands of hours, for years, is going to be needed. So the goals you wish to achieve will be more important in your success, rather than how many 'hours' it will take.

What do you do if you get demotivated that it's taking SO LONG to hit the next language skill milestone? Fair concern. I got demotivated OFTEN by how much longer it took to reach milestones in Japanese compared to in French. First: try to keep perspective. It's normal for it to take more hours to understand certain things, if the language is not very similar to ones you know. You have to build a bigger foundation of understanding for lots of totally new stuff. Second: you're going to hate me but I'd suggest upping the study hours per day (or week). Studying Chinese RARELY demotivated me, despite it taking more actual hours of study to hit milestones compared to French, and why? Because I increased my study time for Chinese so I was still REACHING milestones in a reasonable amount of months (very similar to the months it took to hit French milestones). 2 hours a day of Chinese study was more than 1/2 an hour of French study, but 2 hours was doable. And it meant I still got to watch shows and read within a few months, and watch/read without looking many words up (depending on difficulty) by the end of year 1. Once you are doing the goals or sub-goals you have, it becomes so much easier to stay motivated. Once I could watch cdramas before they got translated, or read any novel I wanted using Pleco or Readibu to help? It was very easy to stay motivated and do things I WANTED to do in chinese. From there it was just practice/learn using activities I had the goal of doing.

Finally, similar to the suggestions above, if you find yourself in a motivation rut what can you do? I personally try to do 'study sprints' when I'm getting demotivated and need to see significant progress. What I do is pick a small goal, then spend 1-2 months studying as much as I can to improve in that goal. Suggestions: A beginner may make the goal to study the alphabet, a pronunciation guide, and 300 common words and see how far they get by the end of the month. (If at the end of the month the pronunciation is easier to hear and alphabet is easier to read then they succeeded - and they likely will). Another beginner may make the goal to read graded readers 1 hour per day or more all month and see how much they can read. (If the first graded reader they read is easier to read at the conclusion of the month, such as less unknown words or faster reading speed, then they succeeded - and they likely will see progress). A beginner/intermediate learner into flashcards might try to study as many flashcards in Anki as they can for a month. An intermediate learner may pick an audiobook and try to listen to AS MANY chapters as they can in a month, or may pick a novel and look up every unknown word while reading for 1 hour per day or more, until the end of the month. The idea is to pick a goal where you KNOW you're current skill level, work HARD on studying to improve that skill for a month, and then try to do the skill again and see how much progress you've made. I find it very motivating. It can take months to broadly notice progress milestones like managing to improve in your overall reading skill to tackle more difficult novels. But it can take just A MONTH to learn a few hundred new words and make the current novel you're reading become much EASIER to read, or the current show you're watching to become much EASIER to follow, or for the listening skills you're struggling with to become much more instant and reliable.

Example: one of my most recent sprints was to improve my Chinese listening skills. So for a month, I listened to audio flashcards of chinese-english sentences audio, and audiobook chapters (re-listening to each chapter a few times). I saw progress in 1. The audiobook got easier to understand over time, and 2. I tried watching a cdrama I've watched before, only this time I watched it without any subtitles, and it is now much easier to quickly comprehend and follow the lines (even without chinese subs). A sprint I did after a 2 year funk with minimal japanese progress was to cram study 2000 words in memrise Nukemarine's LLJ decks (took 3 months) then try to play a japanese video game I'd tried playing before the sprint. Another japanese sprint I did was listen to japaneseaudiolessons.com free lessons for a month, to work on improving my listening comprehension and recognition of word-order faster, and it did really help with seeing an improvement in those things.

As a beginner, I think the sprints can help with staying focused on small achieveable goals and seeing your progress (like reading daily, watching a show daily, studying X new words daily, going through a chapter of a grammar book weekly, etc). And then as you get farther and can actually do some of your sub-goals, can help with pushing yourself to some significant improvement in a particular area. (Like if you reached a sub goal of reading easy webnovels, it might be a month where you read a webnovel with more unique words that's 'harder' and look all unknown words up, and by the end of the month you see that medium-difficulty webnovels now feel as easy as the 'easy' ones did at the start of the month).

And then... if you study like me, which tends to be periods of a LOT of study followed by lulls where I might watch/read/listen to the language but not do much active study, then the sprint goal months tend to help cram in 100 hours of study every so often. So that you'll still (on average through the year) have studied 1-2+ hours a day. I do not focus well, and sprint goal months along with more relaxed months where I just watch/read/listen to stuff when I feel like it, is the only way I can get myself to study regularly. If you can consistently study daily, then sprint goal months can help you make Significant progress in a very specific area if some slow-progress area has been demotivating you. (And you can turn the sprint goals into challenges with friends, or tests to see what study methods work great for you versus bore you).

[wellthatschaotic]

neurotypicals are so frustrating,, i keep forgetting that "can you do x" means "go do x"

[slav-every-day]