#I usually don’t have to think much about others will see it

[wynnd1]

I’m curious about the basis of the motion this is talking about. Bc Mirandization doesn’t affect seized physical evidence. It applies to statements made while in custody. So the items seized are not getting excluded under Miranda (reading of rights), so either 1) Mangione made an incriminating statement while at McDonalds speaking with officers or 2) the lack of reading of rights is being used as an indicator of some other search and seizure issue.

/not an attorney (yet), not your attorney, this is not legal advice, this is speculation based on education/

So I found an article with a little more info about the motion so I could rule some stuff out and get a better idea. I’m thinking this is going to be the second situation more than the first.

Ok, so based on this article I can probably rule out lack of jurisdiction; this is the Penn. case and presumably the officers had some jurisdictional authority or an agreement with the appropriate authority. (It’s possibly a jurisdictional issue, but not likely).

I’m thinking the issue the motion is probably about is whether or not the officers either had a warrant or if a warrant exception applies. Let’s assume no warrant because of the jurisdictional hurdles that might be involved, and the degree of knowledge that would be needed to even get a warrant.

The most applicable warrant exception for an invasive search is likely probable cause. There might be a Terry Stop argument, but I don’t think it really applies because they searched the bag, not the person (the argument is there, to be clear, I just am not a fan of trying to extend Terry Stops to include searches of bags especially in my jurisdiction; Terry stops are “stop and frisk” quasi-searches that require much less suspicion than probable cause). If a reasonable person with the officer’s knowledge would believe that the person they’re interacting with is engaged in a crime that would constitute an arrest-able offense, then officers may arrest that person and search them incident to that arrest.

So, the defense attorney is probably trying to use the lack of mirandization as evidence that Mangione was free to leave and was not arrested. There’s a major hiccup though that I can see: inevitable discovery. If the police would have inevitably discovered the evidence, independent of whether they searched or arrested first, then the evidence won’t be excluded. Just because the officers didn’t arrest when they could have doesn’t mean that the evidence is being excluded.

HOWEVER: the officers had to have probable cause to arrest BEFORE they searched the bag. It doesn’t need to be probable cause for a felony, just any arrest-able offense. If there’s an arrest-able offense before the search (unrelated to whether the offense was charged), then the fruits of the search will most likely not be excluded. But if there wasn’t one before the search, then it could be. And no, officers don’t need to articulate their probable cause, and even if they articulate it and are wrong about their justification, that doesn’t invalidate the search if the State argues on a correct justification. Yes it’s weird. But that’s how the law usually is.

There’s other warrant exceptions that’ll be argued, like consent. That’ll be a big one too. Officers sometimes word things like “you don’t mind if I check your bag do you?” If you say “no”/shake your head that could be taken as “no, I don’t mind”, if you say “yes”/nod that could be taken as “yes, you can search my bag”, if you say nothing at all, that might be taken as consent bc it was a question you could have answered but never did. Yes I’m aware how insane that sounds. Yes that is sometimes how the law works. I didn’t write or determine the law, don’t get mad at me. Depends on the court and the judge and what cases the attorneys on each side find for that jurisdiction.

There’s a ton of other exceptions, but if I had to wager I would think those two would be the top ways that the State keeps the evidence in: 1) probable cause search incident to arrest (with an inevitable discovery exception) or 2) consent search. I could be wrong, the State could use a much different exception, but those are the two that come to mind.

Point is: it’s extremely hard to get evidence excluded. It’s possible, but it’s not easy.

MANIFESTING

[promiscuousg1rl]

LOVE ME NOT — ONE

Rafe Cameron x Childhood!Bestfriend!Reader Social Media AU

Summary: Since sandbox days, it has always been you and Rafe. The only person who can put up with his selfish bastard ways, you became one of the boys. However as the two of you grew older, you started to realize you don’t see him as another one of the guys. Harboring a crush on someone is universally awful, but having a crush on your best friend is worse. Especially when he doesn’t reciprocate. Deciding to save your friendship, you settled on time apart, spending your summer in the Bahamas. When you return, you are a whole different person—jewelry, makeup, and chic clothes—you became an ugly duckling story turned right. But time apart have given you insight, and you aren’t sure if you still love Rafe.  While he realizes he's loved you this whole time.

Content: social media au, unrequited love trope, inspired/based on Love Me Not by Ravyn Lenae

Rafe's sure he broke every speed limit and ran every light to get the Boneyard after that picture was sent to him.

And it wasn't just JJ's arm being around your shoulder that made him immediately jump up and grab his keys; it was that pathetic excuse of bikini top you had on.

The last time he saw you, you'd been decked out in a t-shirt that was two sizes too big and a pair of knee length jean shorts. But as he stares at you from his spot next to Topper and Kelce, he wonders what exactly happened to you in the span of three months.

Now Rafe really isn't into fashion and girly shit like that (and he thought you weren't either), but he's ninety-nine percent sure the mini skirt you have on is designer. It's pink, a color he's never seen you wear in the ten years he's known you; not even when your mom tried to force you wear that pink fluffy dress for your birthday that one time.

It all just...wasn't you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfect curls your hair was styled in.

"Dude we almost didn't recognize her at first glance," Kelce nudges Rafe's arm. "I've never seen her look like an actual girl before, it's freaking me out."

Topper snorts around the rim of his solo cup. "I forgot she even had boobs."

Kelce nods his head while they watch as she giggles at something JJ says to her.

Since when are they so fucking chummy with each other? Rafe asks himself. The way you were leaning into his side and letting your head rest on his shoulder as whatever bullshit he was spewing to you made you cackle.

"You're not gonna say anything?" Topper quirks a brow at Rafe's seemingly catatonic state.

"I—, she didn't even tell me she was back."

Kelce and Topper exchange a look before looking back to their best friend. "What, did you manage to piss her off all the way from North Carolina while she was in the Bahamas?"

Rafe's brows furrow. "Of course not. And even if I did, she still would've let me know that she and her folks were flying back in."

You would...wouldn't you?

He thinks about Topper's borderline accusation. Things between you two were fine when you left for your vacation with your parents. Hell, you came to see him right before you headed for the airport.

You joked like you always do, telling him not to miss you too much and he bantered back saying that he was counting down the minutes until your flight left. Your usual back and forth.

So what the hell had changed between then and now?

"Aye, y/n!"

Rafe is glad that it's Kelce that does it before for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to. But whatever, things were about to go back to normal. Now that you'd know that the three of them were here, you'd ditch your new "friends" and come back to your real ones.

He's not sure what sparked your friendly behavior but it was all about to be straightened out.

Hearing your name being called from across the beach, you turn to look in their direction. And instead of pushing JJ's arm from around your shoulder and coming over to them like Rafe thought you would, you settle for one of your bright smiles and an eager wave. And that's it.

You turn right back around and continue talking to Kie and the rest of them like nothing even happened.

Rafe glances over at Kelce and Topper, finding them to be just as confused as he is.

He's positive you'll make time for him as the party goes on. You're not just going to go without speaking to him after three whole months of nothing being around each other. That'd be nuts and frankly, really unlike you.

After you finish dancing with Kie is when he thinks you'll finally give him the time of day. However right after that is when you do a couple of shots with John B and Pope. So he waits, and waits, and waits...and you still don't acknowledge him.

No, it seems JJ Maybank of all people has your attention. Record him doing stupid shit on your phone and in his opinion, standing a bit too close.

Rafe can't help but think that you and everyone else at this party are lucky he's not drinking. Because his temper and alcohol did not mix and as he sees your hand on JJ's bicep for what feels is the hundredth time tonight, his eye starts to twitch.

Kelce and Topper are long gone; Kelce finding some touron to hook up with while Topper had to go be at Sarah's beck and call for the rest of evening. Now it was just him.

When you and Kie start seeming to be heading out, he now knows that he has to be the one to make the move if you won't.

"Hey," he intercepts you as soon as you're near, earning an eye-roll from Kiera.

"Hey!" You smile up at him. "You're still here?"

"Uh," he looks from you to an obviously annoyed Kiera. "Yeah, I was actually waiting around for you,"

He can hear the hopefulness in his voice and wonders if you can too.

"Oh," your smile falls a little, bottom lip poking out slightly.

Are you wearing lipgloss?

"We were actually about to leave," You wince.

"Stay then," He hears an obvious scoff coming from your left but doesn't bother acknowledging her.

"Honestly, I'm pretty worn out." You look around the party with a shrug. "Nothing really keeping me here anyways, so we're gonna go chill at John B's."

"John B?" Rafe scoffs. “On a first name basis with those Pogues?”

You frown. "They're not all that bad."

"Is that what they tell you?"

Kiera's scoff is louder this time. "No one needed to tell her anything Rafe, y/n can think for herself."

"Stay out of this Kie."

"Fuck off, Rafe."

The glare they exchange is so intense you find yourself subtly easing in between them.

"Rafe, maybe another time...okay?"

When he looks back at you, his eyes immediately soften. But just as quick the gentleness he aims at you is replaced with a look only you can recognize as hurt.

And you almost want to tell him you change your mind, that you'd love to stay and update him on the changes your sure he's noticed.

However it's almost as if Kie can see your resolve weaken and she squeezes your hand. Willing you to remember the conversations you had.

So instead of being the same weak-willed person you usually were when it comes to Rafe Cameron, you don't bother waiting for him to even respond.

"I'll see you around."

With that, Kie doesn't hesitate to pull you away from him, all while you let her.

pls let me know if you'd like to be tagged 🩵!

[meinii]

"sick"

summary: Sylus is sick, now it's your turn to take care of him (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

content: fluff, mentions of being sick, mentions of food

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

it wasn’t often you saw Sylus like this—stripped of his usual confidence, his sharp words dulled, his imposing presence softened by the fever making his skin warm to the touch. he wasn’t the type to admit when something was wrong

in fact, you’d only found out because you had shown up at his place unannounced, fully intending to tease him about skipping lunch plans, only to find him slumped on the couch, face pale and drenched in sweat

"Sylus" you had gasped, immediately rushing to his side

he cracked one eye open, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips

"hey... look who’s here," he rasped, voice rough and lower than usual "didn’t think you’d catch me like this... not exactly my best look"

your heart twisted at the sight of him—normally so strong and composed—reduced to this feverish mess. without hesitation, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, wincing at how hot he was

"you’re burning up," you said softly "why didn’t you call me?"

he closed his eyes again, murmuring, "didn’t want to worry you... it’s just a fever. not like I’m dying."

"that’s not the point, Sylus," you whispered

gently, you brushed damp strands of silver hair away from his face. his skin felt like fire under your fingertips "you take care of everyone else. let me take care of you this time, okay?"

he grunted something unintelligible—probably a protest—but you ignored it

moving quickly, you fetched a cool washcloth and pressed it against his forehead. His breath hitched at the cold sensation, but after a moment, he relaxed into it

"see? not so bad," you murmured, offering him a smile. his eyelids fluttered, gaze locking with yours for a moment longer than necessary

"you’re... too good to me" he mumbled

"someone has to be," you quipped, though your tone was soft. Standing up, you glanced toward the kitchen "I’ll make you some soup. stay put."

his smirk returned—though faint—as he closed his eyes

"bossy" he muttered, but there was no bite to it

in the kitchen, you found yourself smiling despite the worry gnawing at your chest

Sylus was so stubborn—always putting others first, never letting anyone see his vulnerabilities. but here he was, letting you in. that meant something.

the soup wasn’t anything fancy, but you hoped the warmth would help. carrying the bowl back, you found him half-asleep, arm draped over his eyes

"Sylus," you called gently "hey, sit up for me. I brought you something"

he groaned but obeyed, albeit sluggishly

"you’re relentless" he grumbled

"you’d do the same for me" you pointed out, holding the spoon up to his lips

he blinked at you, clearly debating whether to argue, but eventually sighed and leaned forward

"...tastes better because you made it" he said after swallowing

"flatterer" you teased, but your cheeks warmed anyway

you fed him slowly, making sure he didn’t rush. his eyes kept fluttering shut between bites, and you reached out to steady him when he swayed. "almost done" you soothed

once finished, you set the bowl aside and wiped his mouth gently "there. not so bad, right?"

he chuckled weakly "feel like a kid again..."

"good," you said, grabbing the blanket to tuck it around him "means you’ll listen to me for once"

to your surprise, his hand shot out, catching yours. his grip was warm—too warm—but his thumb brushed over your knuckles in a tender gesture that made your heart skip

"thank you," he murmured, gaze sincere "really."

"you don’t have to thank me," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "you’ve carried so much on your shoulders, Sylus. let me shoulder some of it. just this once... let me be the one taking care of you."

his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache. he squeezed your hand gently "...don’t deserve you"

"well, tough," you replied, giving him a teasing smile "you’re stuck with me"

he chuckled again, but it faded into a cough. worry flared anew, and you reached up to adjust the cool cloth on his forehead

"sleep," you urged "you need rest."

"you’ll stay?" he asked, voice rough

vulnerable.

"of course I will," you said without hesitation "I’m not going anywhere."

settling beside him, you let him rest his head on your lap, fingers carding through his hair soothingly. his breathing gradually evened out, the tension in his body melting away. you stayed like that, watching over him, heart full

hours passed

he stirred occasionally, murmuring half-formed words—your name among them. each time, you reassured him softly, smoothing his hair back and humming quietly

at one point, his hand found yours again, fingers intertwining

even in sleep, he sought your warmth

you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple "it’s my turn to take care of you," you whispered "and I will. always."

the night stretched on, but you didn’t mind.

Sylus—your Sylus—was letting you in, letting you hold him together when he felt like falling apart

and you’d stay right there, as long as he needed you.

[gothicflowers]

damn why did Kyle’s ass block us tho

Continuing this Gaz blurb

*4 months later*

Gaz still felt guilty, and even worse… he couldn’t get off without recalling the way your body moved and voice sounded that night. Gaz was ruined. The innocent pictures he had of you when you two went to the beach once were like a playboy magazine to him. He tried a few hookups from shitty pubs but none compared to how you made him feel. Loved, warm, safe… happy.

He tried going on a few dates… one he accidentally called her your name as they were making out in his car. The other looked like you but lacked personality. Needless to say karma was biting Kyle in the ass.

“So you blocked her, after you took her to the fanciest steakhouse, wine back at her place while sharing secrets… and had the best shag of your life” soap says from the other side of the aircraft. “And let’s not forget all the cute couple shit you two had been doing”

“Who we talking about” ghost questions.

“Lass that Gaz was seeing months ago, and bloody blew it after a quick shag from the sound of it” soap snickers.

“I thought you were still seeing her” ghost questions.

“I didn’t think I’d actually sleep with her, that wasn’t my goal. And no, it’s been a while” gaz defensively replied.

Soap pinches the bridge of his nose “so your original plan was essentially a break off date”.

Gaz shrugs “I didn’t want her last memory of me to be me saying see you later after our usual Sunday walk. Plus we were never technically together”.

Prices eyebrows raised “So you just strung her along for a month and you were going to ghost her regardless of how the night ended”.

“Well… yeah and it was actually more like five months” gaz sheepishly replied.

The men went silent as they gathered their thoughts. Price being the first to speak up after a painful awkward silence “five months, you bastard she probably was falling in love with you, then you decided to pull the shittiest move a man can make”

“I panicked” Gaz shrugs and diverts his eyes from his captains burning gaze.

Ghost chuckles “wrong, you premeditated disappearing from her life. Sounds like you got a fear of commitment”.

Gaz defensive responds “I do not, it’s just with what we do it’s not worth the risk. I mean what if something happens”

“Sounds exactly like something a person with commitment issues would say” ghost quickly replied.

Soap decides to add fuel to the fire “Aye didn’t you do the same thing with the last gal you liked. Maybe it’s the chase you like. Love ‘em and leave ‘em“.

“Fuck off soap” Gaz responds trying to control his irritation.

Price sighs “I didn’t realize how much of my life I wasted having that mentality when I was your age. Had some fun one night stands but the loneliness catches up real quick. Granted things are turning up for me but boy do I feel like I missed out on that young love”.

Gaz starts to think about what price said. After a plane ride home in deep thought he asks price one last question before departing base “So what should I do to get her back”

Prices brows furrowed “You want something optimistic or something realistic”

“Fuck, realistic I guess” gaz leans against the doorframe of prices base office.

Price stands next to a filing cabinet and shakes his head “Honestly I’ll be amazed if she gives you as much as a moment to explain. But if she’s does let you, be honest about why you left and apologize. No point in lying when you have everything to gain and you can’t lose what you’ve already lost Sargent” price gives him a sincere look “regardless of how it turns out you need to let this be a teaching moment. Because maybe she doesn’t take you back, maybe life sends someone else your way. But if you get that lucky you know better than to fuck it up like this ever again”.

Gaz nods “Would flowers be a nice addition to the apology”.

Price smirks “I don’t think flowers will help your cause much, but maybe it’s sweeten her up”.

Gaz nods “thanks, see you later captain”

Gaz needs a plan to get you back, forever hopefully.

*the next day*

She wasn’t even home. So Gaz decides on waiting to see if you’ll come home anytime soon by sitting on your front door steps for two hours. He has no plans to leave until he sees your pretty face.

Gaz scrolls endlessly on his phone when the sound of heels awaken his senses, only to actually look up when he hears your voice “What are you doing here” you very clearly are not happy to see him.

Gaz stands up with flowers in his hand, clearing his voice he carefully starts his plan “I came to explain, but more importantly apologize”. Gaz sheepishly said.

Your eyes look down at the flowers in his hand, appalled. “No need honestly, I’ve moved on and I think you should to”.

Shit this isn’t going well Gaz thinks. Time to take the soft puppy dog approach. He takes a step forward to you and his eyes fill with hurt “Would you at least let me explain, if you don’t want to hear it I’ll leave now but at least let me be honest as to why I ran off”

You huff defeated, hard to say no when he’s looking at you like that but you can’t give in. “Nothing you can say will change my mind”.

“My job. It’s dangerous and I was worried that it wouldn’t work out because of the demands. And I didn’t plan on sleeping with you. Honestly I just wanted you to have a nice night before I disappeared” gaz trying to reach for your hand, you move back.

“That’s great Kyle. Well my boyfriend just left his office and I’m making dinner, so I really don’t have time for this” you fumble with your keys, as they slip to the ground Gaz picks them up and unlocks to door for you.

“At least let me help carry all this in for you and I’ll be on my way” he politely asked. Praying you’ll let him in.

You sigh a defeated “Fine”. You walk in the door first as Gaz grabs the rest of the bags on the porch. He watches as your hips sway, he can feel the blood in body start to boil. Stay calm, stay fucking calm.

Your home still smells like fresh cotton and lavender. Still perfectly tidy and comfortable. He looks over at that corner sofa where you two made out. He closes the front door and walks to the kitchen and sets the groceries on the counter, he notices a silver watch with a rather large band. Must be a big fella. That’s when he hears the front door open and close. A heavy set of footsteps approaches silently.

“I think you should get going now” you say plainly avoiding Kyle’s burning gaze. He hurt you too much for you to have a moment of doubt.

A deep voice speaks as the footsteps stop at the kitchen “Sargent”.

Gaz turns around to the voice in the room and swallows hard.

“Captain”

Pt.3

[what-even-is-thiss]

The people want an explanation so an explanation I shall give.

Basically Nevada used to be like. Nowhere. Even more nowhere than it is now. They broke several rules when they made it a state actually because the population wasn’t big enough to justify it but they wanted Lincoln to get more electoral college votes or something. I dunno.

Point is, there’s not much in Nevada. Sure, there’s silver mines. There’s local tribes who are pretty cool. There’s wildlife. There’s some neat mountains. Not much water though and water is needed for most industries and large scale civilization.

This vast emptiness ended up making Nevada what it is today though mostly because of crime. It’s hard for the feds to stop your crime when you’re surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. Is the state and federal government gonna trek through the Nevada desert to scold you? I don’t think so.

Local governments today in Nevada can often trace themselves directly back to criminal organizations and corrupt groups of politicians, including the city of Las Vegas and the very large unincorporated community of Paradise which is actually where the Las Vegas strip is. Why is Paradise, Nevada still an unincorporated community despite having over 180,000 residents? Because if there’s no city government that’s one less government entity your casino has to pay taxes to. Duh.

And these crime people and casino owners and easily bribable politicians despite their many problems did figure something out. Tourists like doing things that are illegal in other places. Californian tourists in particular. And one of the illegal things that all Americans really but especially Californians wanted to do was get divorced.

Around 1930 Nevada became one of the first states to make no-fault divorce legal. Not only that but the required waiting period became six weeks. Not only that but only one spouse had to live in Nevada for those six weeks. To this day, the waiting period for divorce in California is still six months. This was huge.

This becomes a whole industry. Not only is gambling legal in Nevada but now divorce is too. When a couple decide mutually that they want a divorce but there’s no legal reason for it where they live, one of them, usually the woman, goes to live in a resort in Las Vegas or Reno for six weeks (often called a divorce ranch) and then they can get divorced.

And while one or both spouses are there, they can gamble, get pampered, see entertainment, meet other people. Then they go home after their divorce and tell their friends all about it. Now all their friends know that there’s gambling and entertainment in Vegas. And now they know about the divorce ranches. More money in the Nevadan economy.

Las Vegas is a bright shining tax evasion island in the middle of the desert built on entertainment, gambling, crime, and divorce. God bless Nevada and god bless no-fault divorce.

The US having an entire city in the middle of the desert dedicated entirely to gambling sounds like a thing other countries would make up about the US as a joke but its real and no one bats an eye at it

[littlestl4mb]

running errands with nerdy boyfriend luigi???? 😭

YURRRRR

to be honest, i think it would be luigi’s favorite thing to do with you. i think he’d really like the simplicity and domesticity of it. he doesn’t care much for going on fancy dinner dates, or going on expensive couple vacations together. no, those superficial milestone-markers that other couples like to boast, they don't do much for him. never have. instead, he finds happiness on a simple saturday morning in spring, when the air is still a little brisk but it’s teasing the approaching summer’s warmth. and most importantly, he’s on his way to see you. 

he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he’s walking up to your door. most nights you two spend together. whether he’s at your place or you’re at his place (i think he has a preference for spending the night at your place though. your home smells like you; lavender and vanilla. and he loves your cozy bedroom. he might criticize the excessive amount of pillows on your bed but he secretly loves flopping down onto them and napping). but last night you spent the night separated because you went to hang out with some friends and didn’t get back home until late, and he wanted to work on some program he’s been developing. safe to say, he missed you a lot. and it’s no secret you missed him either. 

when you open the door for him, he casually strolls in. 

“hi, gigi,” you hum and press a sweet kiss to his cheek, your hands full of the laundry that you’re about to throw into the washing machine. he grins sheepishly and blushes. no matter how much you kiss him, it always makes him a little flustered still. he shuts the door behind him, and then moves to the living room. he sets his backpack down, and then pulls out a little notepad in a very routine manner. you’re bumbling around the apartment, trying to tidy it up before you head out for the day. 

he starts writing a list of everything you usually do on saturdays together:

1. take car to car wash  2. get groceries for the week  3. drop box off at post office that y/n has procrastinated sending for the last 3 weeks. do NOT let her say “we can just do it next week” this time.

mid writing his list, he looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. “is there anything else we have to do today? or just the usual stuff?” he hums. 

you pause and put your hand on your hip as you think about it. 

“hmm. i don’t think…- oh yeah! i need to go to cvs and pick up some stuff too. ran out of face cream,” you nod your head. with a double click of his pen, he jots it down. 

“okay, what all do we have on the list?” you inquire, joining him by his side to look over his shoulder.

“i think i’m fine on groceries this week. can always get ‘em later if i need them. you can cross that off” you point at the second item on the list, your hands lightly resting on his shoulders. 

luigi guffaws, out of disbelief. though, he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, he stands up from the couch and turns the corner to the kitchen. the distinct rattling of the fridge door opening, followed by the thudding of the cabinet doors closing and opening is your answer to the question you didn’t ask. 

you see his hand poke out from the kitchen door, a graceful wave of his fingers beckons you forward. you already know the look on his face without having to see him. when you enter the modest kitchen, he has the refrigerator door propped open. a wrinkle in his forehead forms from his eyebrows being raised out of such skepticism.

“yeah, you don’t need to go to the grocery store, baby? there’s like, 5 cans of diet coke in here and some… nasty old bananas.” he frowns as his hand gestures to the mostly empty space in the fridge. 

“okay, fine, lu. we’ll go grocery shopping.” you huff. it’s an argument you’ve had one too many times already. one that you have never won, too. and well, you might not know everything, but you certainly know it’s no use arguing with an engineer. at least not about this.

“i’m driving” luigi deadpans while you two make your way out of your apartment. it’s no surprise, considering the fact that the man has been in the car with you one too many times where you’ve nearly totaled your car. there was the time you were driving into town, and a little puppy on the sidewalk caught your attention and you veered into another lane. that caused a slew of cars honk at you… oh, and there was the other time when you backed into a pole while parallel parking, which luckily only left a small scratch- but gave luigi a heart attack all the same. 

yeah, so long as luigi could help it, you were the designated passenger princess. 

“okay, fine. can we at least go get coffee first?” you pout up at him as he opens the passenger side door of his car for you. 

“well, yeah. thought that was a given,” he says as closes the door and gets in on his side. 

luigi also likes driving because he likes to compute the most simple and efficient route possible. he thinks of it as an equation. and you really don’t mind him being your personal chauffeur. where all you have to worry about is what songs you want to play next on the stereo. 

when you guys get to the post office after washing your car and getting coffee, luigi is the one who carries the box in for you. so all you have to do is tell the clerk the address you’re sending the package to. he does that often: carrying your things for you. when you go to bookstores, he carries around the pile of books you want to purchase on top of his own. and the same thing will probably happen later when you go to cvs; he’ll carry your little skincare products and bottles of vitamins for you too.

after you’ve finished up at the post office, luigi tugs out his little notebook. he checks off the post office, which is under the crossed out ‘1. go to car wash’. 

the next stop is indeed the pharmacy. luigi is doddling along your side, his eyes wide with curiosity as he looks over the multitude of face lotions. though, that doesn’t distract him from the topic at hand. he’s been prattling on about some substack article he read discussing AI today, and also a podcast that he listened to last night while he was up coding. most of the jargon he uses flies right over your head, but he does his best to explain it to you. and even though you still struggle to understand why it’s so important, you just like hearing him talk about something he’s so passionate about. you get a little smug smile on your face, and luigi quirks up an eyebrow and goes, “what?” 

all you can do in response is shake your head and look away, trying to suppress your coy grin with a small, “nothing.” 

“no, seriously. what are you smiling about? i know AI doesn’t make you this happy, baby,” 

“you’re right, it doesn’t. but i like hearing you talk about it. it’s cute,” you’d shrug. 

and luigi— really!— no matter how long you two’ve known each other, still gets bashful sometimes when you compliment him out of the blue. he’s got that nerd in him, after all. 

and after you’ve finished at the pharmacy, you make your last stop for the day: target. you convince luigi to go there instead of the boring grocery store. much to luigi’s protest too— he knows it’s an excuse to mingle through aisles of things you don’t really need. ‘going to target instead of the actual grocery store decreases our percentage of efficiency so much, y/n’ he usually groans. but for him, he knows that argument is the losing one. something he’ll never win on because you’re stubborn. and you’re cute when you’re pouting and begging him too with those big rounded out eyes of yours. plus, he thinks it’s endearing when you bumble through aisles and pick up random things and show them off to him as if its the most fascinating thing in the world. and anyways, if you two are really on a tight schedule, he’ll pull out the boyfriend move of jokingly placing his hand on the scruff of your neck while directing you towards where you’re supposed to go.

but you two have all the time in the world today, so he pushes the cart for you as you guide him down the candle aisle 

“gigi, what do you think of this one?” you ask as you push the dark red jar towards his face. the overtly ‘chai latte’ candle overwhelms his senses. with a scrunch of his nose and exaggerated cough, he shakes his head.

“god no. too much. plus, i like your lavender and vanilla one more. smells more like you.” 

 you hum in acknowledgment as you pull back the candle to smell again. maybe, he did have a point. 

“mm fine. guess you’re right.” you pout out your bottom lip before setting the candle back down on the shelf. 

and then you’re finally shuffling off to the grocery aisles, luigi pushing the cart alongside you. strolling through the aisles of food, you’ve managed to pick up a few things. a box of flavored instant oatmeal, some pasta for easy dinners, and a bag of chocolate for morale sit in the cart.

luigi’s eyes glance down at the items. his jaw is tense, his cheekbone hollowed out while the weight of his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek. he’s unamused, if his facial expression is anything to go by. 

“so when are you going to pick up actual food?” his question almost cuts like a knife. it’s not that he tries to sound so brute, but sometimes he just comes across that way when he’s being so direct. it’s the italian in him.

“what are you talking about? this is plenty fine, luigi.” you roll your eyes at him.

“what am i talking about? even the comp sci geeks i know eat more regular meals than you do. you need some actual nutrients. you eat like a canary.” he tuts. he juts his chin forwards and to the side as an indication for you to step out of the way. 

speechless, you do. luigi proceeds down the aisle towards the produce section. contempt with your efforts so far, he helps himself to grabbing a bushel of broccoli, a bag of baby carrots too, and a few apples, yogurts, and protein bars to boot.

you roll your eyes at him, “yeah, well now it looks like i eat like a rabbit” you point to the baby carrots and broccoli. luigi snorts at that, and then nods in agreement. 

“well you do look like a bunny. so it’s kind of fitting,” he quips, but his tone is more lighthearted and soft now. 

your foot stomps in protest at his joke, “do not!” 

“yeah, see? you even stomp like one when you’re angry,” he laughs, his grin only growing. 

with a sigh of defeat, you shake your head and give him a “fine, whatever”. 

and once luigi is content with the amount of groceries in the cart, he finally directs you two to the checkout. he pulls out his own card to pay for them, because he has that kind of sense and need to take care of you. plus, it only seems fair because he almost always comes over and snacks on whatever is in your fridge himself. 

when you two finally get home after the few hours spent out and about, it’s a relief. he puts your things away for you in the fridge and pantry. he has a very specific categorization of how he does it- each corner of the fridge has it’s own category. he makes a simple dinner for you two afterwards (probably some pasta with roasted veggies). 

the rest of the evening is spent on your couch while he works on his code and you read a book. your feet draped over his lap. for your own amusement, you knock your feet against his hands just to pester him. he always quips back with a “stop that.” oh, and every once in awhile you take a pause and sit up to leer over his shoulder and look at whatever he’s working on. he probably tries to teach you a little bit of code too, which usually goes south pretty quickly and both of you end up bursting into giggles <3333

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓/𝑰.𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒏 𝒙 𝑴.𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏

This has some Mapi in it. Don’t feel obligated to read if you don’t wanna

Ingrid’s fingers move slowly up and down your spine, tracing aimless patterns over the fabric of her hoodie that you’ve claimed as your own. Her other hand is curled around your hip, keeping you pressed against her as you lie sprawled across her chest on the couch. It’s quiet, peaceful. The kind of rare, uninterrupted silence that only happens when Mapi isn’t home.

You love Mapi. Love her more than you ever thought possible. But Mapi is Mapi, and Mapi doesn’t do still. She doesn’t do quiet. She does prodding and teasing and exaggerated sighs when she’s bored and dramatically flopping onto you and Ingrid when she wants attention. It’s adorable, it’s her, but it’s also exhausting sometimes.

So when she left for the weekend, you’d missed her immediately, but you’d also secretly relished the stillness. The extra bit of uninterrupted Ingrid time.

Ingrid shifts slightly beneath you, her chest rising with a deep breath as her fingers continue their slow, lazy movements. “You’re thinking too much,” she murmurs, voice low and accented in a way that makes warmth pool in your stomach.

You hum against her, nuzzling further into her. “Am not.”

“You are,” she counters. “I can feel it.”

You huff a soft laugh, but she’s right. She usually is.

You tilt your head to look up at her, chin resting on her sternum. “Miss her?”

She exhales a small breath through her nose, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Mmm.”

You study her for a second. “But you like the quiet too.”

The tiny smile turns into a proper one, eyes twinkling just slightly. “Mmm.”

You grin, stretching up just enough to press a kiss to her chin before relaxing back down against her. “Me too.”

She chuckles softly, her hand drifting up from your spine to thread lazily through your hair.

Neither of you speak for a while, just lying there, breathing in sync, soaking in the rare, undisturbed moment of peace.

Then your phone vibrates against Ingrid’s stomach, the buzz breaking the quiet. You groan dramatically, not bothering to move as you blindly pat around for it. Ingrid sighs, reaching down and grabbing it for you.

“Mapi,” she says before even looking, because of course it is.

You huff a laugh as you take it from her, unlocking the screen to see a string of messages.

MAPI

MI AMORRRR

Princesa says she misses me 🥹

You miss me too, no?

I bet Ingrid is enjoying her break from me 😏

TELL HER SHE CAN’T REPLACE ME

I’M IRREPLACEABLE

I’M A NATIONAL TREASURE

You roll your eyes, grinning as you type back.

YOU

We were just talking about how much we miss you, actually

Ingrid too, though she won’t admit it

A second later, your phone vibrates again.

MAPI

LIARRRRR

Put me on video NOW

You sigh, pushing up onto your elbows. “She wants to FaceTime.”

Ingrid groans. “Of course she does.”

You smirk, hitting the video call button before flopping back onto Ingrid’s chest. She huffs when the weight of you presses down on her again, but she doesn’t move.

Mapi answers immediately. “MIS AMORES.”

She’s grinning, all teeth and dimples, nose scrunched just slightly. Her hair is damp, messy, like she’s just come out of the shower, and she’s wrapped in a hoodie that you’re fairly sure belongs to Ingrid.

“You’re drunk,” you accuse, eyeing the slight flush on her cheeks.

“I am not,” she gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “How dare you.”

Ingrid snorts. “You’re slurring your words, Maria.

Mapi squints at her through the screen, face pulling into a pout. “Princesa, why must you betray me like this?”

“Because it’s easy,” Ingrid deadpans.

You laugh, tilting the phone down slightly so Mapi can see you better. “Are you having fun?”

She brightens instantly, nodding. “Sí! We went to this-“ She pauses, turning her head to yell something in rapid Spanish to someone in the background. You hear laughter, a few indistinct replies, before she turns back to the camera. “This bar, and there was karaoke -real karaoke, not that fake one where they mute the mic-“

“Did you sing?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“OBVIO.”

You grin. “What song?”

Mapi opens her mouth to answer but then stops, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you two cuddling?”

You blink. “Uh…yes?

Her eyes narrow even more. “Without me?”

“You’re literally in another country,” Ingrid points out, unimpressed

Mapi huffs, crossing her arms. “You’re replacing me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Ingrid mutters, exasperated.

You snicker. “We would never replace you.”

Mapi points a finger at Ingrid. “Say it, Princesa.”

Ingrid sighs heavily. “Mapi-“

“SAY IT.”

Ingrid tilts her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like she’s calling for divine intervention. Then, finally, she relents. “You are irreplaceable.”

Mapi grins smugly. “Damn right.”

You giggle, shifting so you can tuck your face into Ingrid’s neck.

Mapi watches you both for a moment, then sighs. “Okay. I go now. I just had to make sure you weren’t too happy without me.”

“We’re miserable,” you deadpan.

“Good,” she says, blowing a dramatic kiss. “I love you both. Goodnight.”

“Night, love you,” you say, and Ingrid mumbles a soft, “I love you too,” before Mapi hangs up.

You stare at the phone for a second, then glance up at Ingrid.

“She’s going to be so hungover.”

Ingrid hums. “Good. She deserves it.”

You giggle, tossing your phone onto the coffee table before settling back against her. “Still miss her though.

Ingrid sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ɢʀʏꜰꜰɪɴᴅᴏʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚. 🂼 Losing Game.

Short Summary: being drunk sometimes means making reckless decisions, though agreeing on a bet with Tom Riddle might just top the list.

Warnings: 18+ only! rough oral m!receiving, slight dub con ig, Tom Riddle is a little bitch, no aftercare

A/N: first fic in ten days! finished my thesis and handed it in. SHDFJSKKF

also, this fic is based on this request! tysm for requesting! <3

wordcount: 2,5k

As soon as you saw the exam papers, you knew. 

You’d lose the bet.

A bet that was your idea in the first place.

—

Tom and you have been fierce rivals ever since you started Hogwarts. Always trying to outdo one another, striving for perfection on every single exam and paper you had to hand in.

It’s the day before your Potions exam. You shouldn’t be doing this—getting ready for the party in Slytherin’s common room when you know a late-night study session would be the only way to save you from embarrassment the next day.

Yet, you couldn’t miss out on a fun night with your friends, the ones that keep telling you to stop worrying about your grades so much, to finally take a day off studying.

If they only knew.

After you finish, you take a look in the mirror—neat makeup, hair perfectly styled, tall black heels, burgundy dress, short, maybe too short—you don’t care. Tonight is about having fun and hopefully forgetting about your studies for a few hours.

Flickering green lights and the heavy beat of the music wrap around you as you enter the room, immediately engulfing you in the party’s atmosphere, the smell of alcohol and spilled drinks heavy in the air. Your eyes dart around the place in an attempt to find your friends, but before you get the chance to do so, you spot another familiar face. Familiar in an unpleasant way.

He’s casually leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other lifts his drink—firewhisky, you assume—to his lips. And he sees you too—a smug grin playing on his lips as his eyes shamelessly drop lower, wandering over your exposed skin before he returns them to your now flushed face.

Tom Riddle—head boy, former prefect, know-it-all. House rivals. He’s always tried to get under your skin with anything he could think of. If he outscored you by more than five points, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Merlin, how you despised him.

You silently curse him under your breath, shaking your head as you continue making your way through the crowd. Your skin tingles with the memory of his lingering gaze, already regretting your choice to put on your shortest dress.

As the night goes on, you almost forget about him, your friends keeping you busy with conversations and games. It’s not until after midnight that you see him again—coincidentally just after your friends left your side to get new drinks.

You don’t even realise it’s him until he’s standing in front of you, until you feel his eyes on your skin yet again. You look up at him, meeting his amused expression.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow as he gently sways his drink in his hand.

“Unlike you, I have a life, Riddle. I don’t bury myself in books all day.”

“Judging by your grades, that’s what you should be doing. Instead of…” he pauses, eyes roaming over your cleavage to your thighs and back up. “Going to a party in that dress.”

A scoff leaves your lips. That idiot.

“Yeah? Seems like you can’t get enough of it, hm?”

His eyes darken at your words, and merely the fact that he doesn’t have a smug comeback ready tells you you’ve hit a nerve. You are right. He was checking you out.

A satisfied grin forms on your lips as he turns around to leave without saying another word. However, overconfident with the buzz of alcohol rushing through your veins, an idea comes to your mind.

“Riddle,” you call out, voice barely audible above the loud music, and he stops in his tracks. “I bet I will outscore you tomorrow.”

The usual arrogant smirk returns, decorating his face as he retraces his steps, stopping right in front of where you are sitting on the couch, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers.

“The alcohol is clearly getting to your head if you think you could beat me in any Potions exam.”

You scoff, but deep down you know he isn’t wrong. Potions isn’t your best subject by any means, while Tom seemingly had every potion perfected before you even discussed it in class. Maybe that was exactly what excited you in that moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Riddle. Even your ego can take a loss, I am sure of it.”

He nods then. “Fine. Although I expect an adequate prize. What that will be, I choose.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You shoot him a smile, and you don’t catch the last part of what he’s said until it’s too late.

“Good luck. You’ll need it.” He adds, before disappearing into the crowd, and you don’t see him again that night.

What that will be, I choose. His words keep repeating in your head when you are finally in bed, trying your hardest to fall asleep. Slowly sobering up, you can’t believe what you have done. You would never be able to even come close to him tomorrow—not with last bits of alcohol in your system, not with two hours of sleep, surely not with how much you have studied.

Fuck.

And of course, the inevitable happens. The exam is way too difficult, your mind still clouded, ears ringing as a result of your loud surroundings last night. You can’t concentrate no matter how hard you try, and finally decide to hand in early, before anyone else. 

You take one last look around the classroom before you leave, and immediately, your eyes lock with his. 

Tom has been watching your struggle with pleasure, knowing exactly what it meant—what he’d choose as his prize. From the second you initiated the bet, it’s been as clear as daylight what he’d want. .

A week later, and as expected, he has outscored you. In fact, he received the best grade possible on his exam. And you—you failed. Failed. You had never failed an exam before.

So, you have been waiting. Waiting for him to come to you and tell you what he’d want. But the moment hasn’t come—not even days later. 

The following weekend you find yourself at another party. You have expected him to talk to you there, preparing yourself with all sorts of drinks. Whatever he wants from you—and you fully expect it to be something humiliating—will be easier to endure with the courage you gain when you are slightly tipsy.

He’s there, you have seen him, but it doesn’t happen. He gives you that same arrogant smirk each time you see him, yet he never seeks a conversation. He might have forgotten. You hope he has forgotten.

The next day, after your final lesson of the day, you pack your belongings and leave the classroom. The corridors are empty at this hour as you make your way to the Gryffindor dormitories. You sigh as you turn the corner leading you out of the dungeons, ready to head to bed early after an exhausting day.

However, that plan shatters as a pair of strong arms shove you into an empty classroom, hand clamping over your mouth, muffling your attempts to scream.

The familiar scent of potion ingredients and old wood floods your senses as the door shuts behind you, quickly locked with a spell. And then, you finally see who has dragged you in here.

“Riddle, what the hell?” You whisper-yell, looking around you, scared someone has seen or heard you.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me.” He retorts smugly, not yet facing you, instead casting a silencing spell on the room. “And I am here to collect my prize.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a bookshelf behind you. “What do you want?

Tom turns around then, looking at you for a second before he speaks.

“You. On your knees for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You wish he was joking, but the tone of his voice tells you differently. He’s a hundred percent serious about this.

“There is no way I am doing that.”

“Oh but you will. You lost, I get my prize. It’s only fair.”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips, rolling your eyes. “Could have done this when I was drunk. Wouldn’t have been as humiliating.”

“I don’t take advantage of drunk girls. Also,” a grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he guides you towards the wall, forcing you on your knees so that you are facing him. “Makes me enjoy it more.”

You shake your head slightly, looking up at him. “You are sick, I hope you are aware.”

“Get to work,” he orders, disregarding what you just said. He takes a step closer, fingertips brushing over your cheek, thumb softly tracing along your lips. The strain on the fabric of his trousers is evident as your shaky hands make work of his belt, carelessly dropping the leather on the floor with a low thud. He doesn’t bother stepping out of his clothes, leaving them to pool around his ankles.

You swallow as you take in his size, hesitantly reaching out. With your thumb, you softly swipe over his already with precum glistenting tip, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hand wraps around his length before you give him a few soft strokes, earning a low groan of approval from the brunette.

His patience snaps when you trace along a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, forcefully tilting your head back as his fingers tangle in your hair, having you meet his gaze.

“Can’t take a little bit of teasing, Riddle? That desperate for me?” You say smugly, eyes never leaving his as your grip around him tightens, speeding up.

“Thought I’d go easy on you, but turns out you don’t want me to.” He hisses, guiding your head towards him. Your lips wrap around him then, tongue swirling over his sensitive tip before you take him as deep as you can, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat.

It’s not long before his grip on your hair tightens, stilling your movements before he thrusts himself inside of you, deeper than you had taken him. You obey, laying your tongue flat in your mouth as his length slips further, holding you there until you gag around him.

Focusing on breathing through your nose, you relax your muscles, making space for all of him, his eyes shutting in pleasure each time your throat constricts, squeezing him even tighter.

“Look at you,” he rasps, a ragged breath leaving his lips as his dark eyes now stare down at you again, watching his cock disappear in your mouth with every snap of his hips. “So eager to please me. Knew you were nothing but a pathetic slut behind that facade you try to put up. Smart— fuck—  always trying to impress— but in reality, this is the only thing you are actually good at, hm?”

With his hands’ tight grip on your hair, holding you in place as he uses your mouth, you find yourself unable to give a proper response other than a muffled sound of agreement—something he doesn’t seem to be quite satisfied with.

You gasp, taking in a deep breath as Tom yanks your head back, pulling you off his length, now coated in your spit. A string of saliva connects his tip to your swollen, reddened lips, blinking away your tears.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck— yes, Riddle.”

He shakes his head slightly, tilting your head even further back so you are met with his strict gaze. “What’s my name?”

“Tom,” you whisper, “yes, Tom.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Remember it.”

Only a second later he is back inside of your warm mouth, holding onto your hair as leverage as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he feels you struggle for air, your hands holding onto his thighs for support.

You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how he is using you to get off, and yet, his soft gasps and groans as he gets closer to his release have you clenching your thighs together, desperately trying to ease the ache in your lower stomach.

“Hate to admit you were right. Can’t fucking get enough of you.” He grunts as you feel him twitch inside of you, spluttering around his cock as his thrusts grow harsher, tears running down your cheek as you try your best to take what he is giving you.

“Fuck— Show me—“ Tom breathes, hips stuttering, “show me whose good girl you are and swallow for me.” He barely gets the words out before he stills inside of you, the taste of his release flooding your senses as he empties himself inside of you—deep enough that swallowing is in fact the only option.

Still, he keeps your head pressed against his lower abdomen until he feels you swallow around him, only then pulling out of you.

Tom lets go of your hair then, and you sink against the cold brick wall behind you, utterly spent, jaw sore. You watch him getting dressed, mind still hazy when he walks towards you, looking like nothing happened—on the contrary to you.

“Look even prettier when you cry for me,” he remarks, taking in your state, wiping your tear-soaked cheeks with the back of his hand before he uses a spell to clean your chin and blouse.

And you let him do it, too tired and worn out to complain.

“I guess I have finally found a way to silence that bratty mouth of yours,” he mumbles when he is done, gently wiping a strand of hair from your face.

You look up at him then, hoarsely whispering a soft “Fuck you, Riddle.”

He offers you no other reply than his signature grin whenever he gets something he wants, his eyes fixated on you while he adjusts his robes.

“Tutoring for Potions every Thursday at 7 pm in the library. Don’t be late.” He says, exiting the classroom before you even get the chance to process his words.

You run out of curses to use for him by the time you reach your dorm, exhaustedly collapsing onto your bed. You tell yourself that no, you wouldn’t go because who does he think he is—yet it’s an offer you can’t decline.

So, every Thursday from then on, you find yourself studying for Potions under his guidance. It’s tough at first, but after just a few shared lessons, you realise he might not be that bad after all.

And soon enough, the next bet is made.

—

“If I outscore you tomorrow, I get to fuck you—properly.”

“You are delusional, Riddle.”

Naturally, you lose the bet.

The only difference: This time, you lose on purpose.

[ziggy-scardust]

OK, so. NASA has literally always contracted with private sector aerospace companies to launch things into space. Literally since its inception. Grumman built the Lunar Module for the Apollo Program. North American Aviation built the Command Module and the second stage of the Saturn V. SpaceX was a bit of a disruptor because they built much cheaper launch vehicles and broke the cost-plus contracting paradigm that heritage aerospace companies (your usual-suspect defense primes, Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Northrop Grumman etc.) had with the government which incentivized them to do a lot of things more slowly and less efficiently. SpaceX also went HARD on vertical integration, i.e. building most of their shit in-house and being scrappy about it. So far, so good. They lowered launch costs significantly. They managed reusable first stage and brought down costs a little more (not that much more, you understand, bc they were already undercutting their competitors.) First private company to dock with the ISS. Fair enough - it’s a slightly different paradigm than when the Shuttle was owned by NASA but still built mostly by private-sector contractors.

However. As someone who literally built and tested and negotiated with NASA on SpaceX’s Crew Dragon capsule. You’re disregarding what NASA actually does. And it would be straight-up impossible for us to have built Crew Dragon without the research & development NASA had done for decades. Everyone who was on the NASA end working on the contract WANTED us to succeed! That’s why they had their people, who had quite literally written the book on human spaceflight, work with us. For YEARS they advised us and shared knowledge and supplied decades’ worth of research and helped us identify “actually the reason it’s not done this way is bc we tried that and it was a bad idea, look at these test results” over and over.

NASA WANTS to contract with the private sector and wants to buy the launches from someone else and use their resources to run exploratory science missions of the kind the private sector won’t run (like the Mars rovers! Which by the way are a hell of a lot cheaper than most people think!) That’s what NASA does better than anyone else. And it shouldn’t get scrapped. They de-risk damn near EVERYTHING the private sector does in space.

Between NASA and the Department of Defense, most of SpaceX’s revenue is from federal contracts. As such, it’s pretty much impossible to see Elon’s rampage through the federal government and illegal access to its finances as anything other than gross corruption. He also hates NPR because, well, they don’t kowtow to him. (He demanded a lot of kowtowing even back in the day when I worked there, years ago now.) Comparing their funding doesn’t make a lick of sense. And despite the fact that I did good work that quite literally kept people alive, sometimes it bothers me that I loaned him a credibility he should not have (truuuuust me. That man is NOT a good engineer. Just a good cult-of-personality creator. I previously said he was a good slave-driver, but he’s not even really that, because he was never THERE even years ago.)

[munsonsmixtapes]

Can y’all please send me some rockstar!Eddie requests??

Rock star eddie, you're his drummer. One of his songs requires moans in the background. He wants it live. Wear special panties during show, boom live moans or if that's too much maybe just has you in the sound booth since he doesn't want some random chick's moans

ugh I love this idea

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) masturbation anal, slight degradation, use of the word whore

The recording booth is getting warm as you finish up your contribution to the new single. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever done before and Eddie is producing the entire thing, telling you exactly what he wants you to do and you hate that you’re finding it so hot. 

He’s your bandmate and looking back, bandmates dating each other rarely ever works out. So you’ve been keeping your attraction to yourself even though everyone but Eddie knows exactly how you feel. And you don’t think he’s ignoring you but more that he’s oblivious, not seeing what’s right in front of him. 

And it apparently goes both ways since you have no idea that he’s been crushing on you since you joined the band, temporarily filling in for Gareth while his broken arm heals. He’d never tell anyone this, but for very selfish reasons, he doesn’t want Gareth to get better. He wants you to stay in the band forever so he can’t get closer to you. 

He wants to be able to get a glimpse of your short shorts and skirts when you sit on the stool in front of the drum kit. He wonders how you would feel if he let his hand slide up your thigh, dipping into the waistband of you panties to feel your sopping wet- 

“That was really good,” Eddie tells you through the speaker with a wide smile. 

“Great,” you smile back. “Am I good to go?” You jerk your thumb towards the door and Eddie shakes his head. He kind of feels like a perv for what he’s about to ask, but he doesn’t exactly want to ask this of a stranger. 

“Actually,” he starts. “I have something else I want you to record if you’re up for it.” 

You don’t understand what could possibly be left. You already did your vocals and the drum beats he wanted. What else could Eddie be asking for? And why is he asking it from you? 

“I was wondering…” he pauses for a beat then waits for Jack, the producer who was helping him out with everything, to leave. And once he does, Eddie leans in close and it feels so intimate, like he’s right there, just inches away from you. “Since this song is supposed to be sexy, I was wondering if you’d like to record some moans for me so I can put them in the background of the track.” 

Your face is now on fire. You don’t know what you thought he was going to ask you to do, but it definitely wasn’t that. You should feel disgusted but for whatever reason, you actually feel honored. You’re the one he wants to do this, no one else. And it makes you feel even more attracted to him then you already are. 

“Okay,” you nod, letting what you’re about to agree to actually sink in before you say the words. “Sounds fun, I’m in.” 

Eddie’s honestly shocked that you’re into it, that you’re so eager to do this for him. He really thought it was a big ask but you agreed so quickly, almost as if he asked you to buy him a coffee. (and he never even has to ask for that, you’ll just show up with his usual order with that pretty smile on your face) God, he’s getting hard just thinking about what you’re going to do and wishes that he could be the one to make you make those surely delicious sounds, but he’s going to keep his distance. 

You move around the drums and stand in front of the main mic, putting your headphones back on, wondering what it’s going to sound like on the track. Eddie has always had a good ear so you’re sure that whatever he’s going to come up with will sound great. 

“So how do you want this? Do want something loud or breathy or-“ 

“Breathy,” he replies, cutting you off. “Needy, desperate.”

“Do you mind if I-” you cut yourself off, referring to your pants. Eddie’s eyes widen at what you’re insinuating, but he’s not going to say no. He knows that it’s hard for some people to do that kind of thing on demand and he also kinda wants to see you get yourself off. 

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “Go ahead. We’re recording.” 

“Okay,” you nod as you pull your shorts down just a bit before sticking your hand down your panties, on the hunt for your pussy. Your fingers get inside you pretty easily and you begin to pump, slowly at first and Eddie’s watching every move, eating up the way you throw your head back in pleasure. It’s almost like you’re putting on a show for him and he’s eating up every second. 

When you let out your first moan, Eddie’s cock twitches at the pretty sound and gets progressively harder the more you moan, deciding that it’s even better than he imagined it would be. This is going to sound so hot on the record and he’s nodding to himself at how good of a decision it was to have you be the one to do it. 

“Fuck,” you whine and he’s bricked up now, wondering if it would be weird if he jacked off to you masturbating. He supposed it doesn’t matter because he’s already pulling down his sweatpants before spitting into his hands and giving it a jerk. 

“Just like that,” he encourages into the speaker. “Maybe a little more whiny.” 

Your hand is moving faster now, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whine and he’s so close to coming right there. In a flash, he’s on his feet, pulling his pants up as he stops the recording, making a beeline for the booth. He’s gotta join in now that he’s heard your moan his name, wanting you to moan it because of how he’s touching you. 

Your eyes open when the door to the booth shuts and he charges towards you. You slowly pull your hand from your shorts then grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, motioning for him to open his mouth. He does so and your fingers slide into his mouth as his tongue swirls around it, sucking your slick from it, savoring the taste even as you pull them from his mouth with a loud pop. 

“How’s it taste?” You ask and he puts on a devilish smirk, grabbing hold of your waist, your body now flush to his. 

“You tell me,” he whispers as his lips find yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, letting it meet yours so you can decide for yourself. “Good?” He asks when you don’t answer, but how can you when the whole thing makes you dizzy, unable to string together a proper sentence. 

“Mmm,” you moan against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands slide into your back pocket. He’s kissing you like this is something he’s been waiting for forever and he has dreamt about something like this happening but he was convinced that it was only going to end up being just a dream. 

He gives your ass a squeeze before hurrying to unbutton your shorts, pulling them down just a bit so he can get his hand down in there, his fingers finding your cunt pretty easily. His eyes darken as he pumps his fingers in and out, not even trying to warm you up, shoving his entire fingers in there. He puts on a devilish smile as he watches you come undone underneath his touch. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you know it’s from years of playing guitar that he can move his fingers in such ways. 

You hold onto him as best you can but you feel your knees buckle, having a hard time staying on your feet. Eddie’s quick to pull your back to his chest , his fingers somehow sinking deeper and you’re now putty in his hands as you reach your orgasm, his name falling from your lips once again and he’s got on a cocky smirk as he helps you sink to the floor. 

“All fours,” he commands and you’re quick to listen, letting him pull your shorts and panties down. He stares down at your bare ass, nodding to himself because he just knew that you had a good one with the tight shorts you always wear when performing. It was torture not being able to touch you but now that he’s here, he’s going to do so much, everything he’s ways wanted to as long as you’re okay with it.

Eddie removes his jeans and boxers and discards them into the pile of your clothing before getting down on his knees. This might be the hottest he’s ever seen you, hearing you beg for him, fuck, he thinks he’s going to come.

His shirt is off in a flash and you turn around to get a glimpse of the size of him but he quickly grabs onto your cheeks and forces you to turn back and face forward. You do as he says and stay there as you feel his presence behind you. He’s lathering something onto his cock, you can hear the noises and before you can ask as him what’s going on, he’s pounding into you as his hands rest on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he goes to town. You’re moaning so loud and he almost wishes that he was still recording as perverted as that sounds. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as he somehow goes even harder, wishing he had a mirror so that he could see just how hot you look from the front. “I think you deserve a treat for that. That is, if you can be a good girl.”

“I-I can be,” you reply through heavy breaths. You just knew that Eddie liked it rough, but not this rough. But you’re enjoying yourself, deciding that you can do this for hours. Your arms are getting a little tired but it’s worth it to be receiving something this good. 

“I bet you’re a whore too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He’s right, you are, and you’re wondering how he’s able to read you like a book in this way. He’s making you wet beyond belief and you didn’t realize that you liked being spoken to like this until this very moment. 

“Mmm,” you reply, your brain going fuzzy as you feel another orgasm approaching, your arms threatening to give out on you. Just you hit your peak, Eddie pulls out and pushes you onto your back, not even giving you a second before he’s pounding into your sopping wet cunt, no sounds being heard except the squelching and slapping as he moves quickly. 

He wants to see you now, thinking that you’ve more than earned your treat because of how well you responded to him. You’re so pretty like this, submitting to him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. You’ve always been sweet and quiet, he never knew you had this side to you. 

“So pretty,” he whispers as he leans down for a kiss, this one soft, completely juxtaposing the way he’s fucking you. He then pulls your hoodie off to reveal your bare tits. You weren’t even wearing a bra? Fuck, he acutally might cum this time. 

And he’s feeling close this time, his vision getting hazy as he continues to pound into you. And it gets more intense as he thinks about the fact that you could potentially get caught and now he’s hurrying to finish to make sure that doesn’t, coming pretty much right after you as you’re bucking your hips against his to try your best to finish him off. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines as he finally gets there, the two of you staying like that until you both come down. You’re already missing the feeling of him inside you as he attempts to clean the two of you up, helping you get dress afterwards before your legs still feel like jelly. 

He then helps you to your feet with a promise that he’ll make you feel even better in his apartment later. He then lets you sit in his lap as he finishes editing the song, still somehow able to get the job done even when you’re kissing his neck, grinding your ass against his cock. Yeah, he’s definitely teaching you a lesson later.

[goosewriting]

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

[phoronopsis]

The first image linked is not actually a priapulid but a sea cucumber in its spawning posture! It was misidentified on iNaturalist and went viral before it was corrected— see the original observation here. (It gets kinda heated which I think is kinda funny. Penis worms are serious business!) I have always said before that I want internet fame specifically for two reasons: to make PSAs about Anomalocaris’s head carapace which everybody always leaves out of drawings because of that one inaccurate museum model, and about the incorrectly identified sea cucumber photo about which is now like the first image result you get when searching for penis worms and is my NEMESIS 😠 (the misinformation, not the photo or the sea cucumber, those are great)

For all the worm fans— priapulids are super easy to identify; there are as of the time of writing only 22 recognized species, and for many of them the only photos of them are from articles in scientific journals. Over half the species are microscopic, and the macroscopic ones are mainly found in polar regions, often in the deep sea, where they are usually burrowed in sediment and thus are little-encountered by people. The only one of them that is commonly photographed (and studied) is Priapulus caudatus, which is broadly found across the northern northern hemisphere even in shallow waters and I think probably has to be the most accessible species in general. They look like this:

image by Thomas Trott

This species accounts for probably 99% of the images of priapulids out there, and its relatives look rather similar, such as its southern hemisphere counterpart Priapulus tuberculatospinosus or the two-tailed species Priapulopsis bicaudatus. The intricate, feathery tails (referred to in the literature as “caudal appendages”) are probably the most distinctive feature of this group; they are believed to be involved in respiration, though as with many things about the phylum it is not known for certain. (See this recent paper for a review of macroscopic priapulid morphology.) In the zoomed-out photos of that sea cucumber you can see on the iNat page, it lacks a tail which is a dead giveaway that it is not any of these; also note that while it has some longitudinal striations along what sorta looks like a proboscis, they don’t actually bear any teeth! The spined, toothed proboscides of priapulids are indeed super cool and are their most distinctive feature setting them apart from other proboscis-bearing worms like peanut worms or spoon worms, which are often also misidentified online as priapulids. A fun fact is that the shape of their teeth varies across species in a way that appears to be closely correlated with their diet, see this paper for a neat study that uses tooth shapes to examine the different ecological niches occupied by extant priapulids and their Cambrian relatives!

The only other macroscopic priapulids that don’t look much like Priapulus are the two species Halicryptus spinulosus and Halicryptus higginsi, the latter of which I believe there are literally like two full-body photos in existence of it, one of which is from a login-walled journal article from 1999 and the other of which is one of the specimens from that 1999 article photographed after 25 years preserved in a museum. There’s a decent number of photos floating around of H. spinulosus (though still not as many as P. caudatus); they look like this:

image by Claude Nozères

As you can see, Halicryptus lack tails and have a much less prominent proboscis than Priapulus and its relatives, which you can only see the spines of on the very tip; H. spinulosus in particular has a rather short and small body that distinguishes it a lot, while H. higginsi is the largest known species of priapulid in the world (see this paper for a review of both of them). They’re maybe less distinctive-looking but idk, I don’t know off the top of my head if there’s super anything else you would mistake them for, and images of them are pretty uncommon anyway. In any case as far as macroscopic priapulids go, these are the only ones you have to look out for; if you’ve got those down you’re all set! As stated before, most priapulid species are actually microscopic; just for fun here’s the tropical meiobenthic species Tubiluchus corallicola:

image by Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard University

look at that squiggly tail!

And yeah in conclusion priapulids are super cool and underrated and I wish there were more people paying attention to them; there’s soooo many neglected taxa that we’re still only just discovering basic aspects of their biology and priapulids are one of them! If you want to see their amazing extensible proboscis in action, linked below is by far the best priapulid video out there, I highly recommend it. And most of all remember everybody THAT PHOTO IS A FRICKING SEA CUCUMBER, NOT EVERY WORM THAT LOOKS LIKE A PENIS IS A PENIS WORM AAAAAAA 😭😭😭

Can't believe any real animal has teeth as awesome as penis worms have.

They are meat eaters :)

[orikixx]

Blueprints & Heartbeats (9/?)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Featuring: Nanami Kento

Cw: fem reader, wc 2.8k words, not proofread

Summary: academic rivals to lovers! a mixup in the architecture group project forces you to team up with Nanami Kento, the serious and stoic student. But maybe, he isn’t as brooding as you thought?

Author's note: to the anon who motivated me to continue this.. thank you😭 I’ve been working on it for a while so I hope you guys like this💕

It’s almost 4 pm now, and Nanami is mentally beating himself up over whether he went too far, opening himself up like that to you. He’s pacing around his dorm, nervously eyeing his palette, colorful oil paints laid out in neat, deliberate swatches, a few small brushes and a glass of water waiting nearby.

You knock on his door, a little hesitant. It’s not as if you haven’t been here before, but this time, it feels… different. The air surrounding you is buzzing, barely able to contain your excitement as your foot impatiently taps against the pavement. “Wonder what’s taking him so long,” you murmur, raising your hand to knock again, yet this time, it lands on his broad chest.

“Good afternoon, y/n. Sorry for the wait.” The moment you look up at him, there’s a big smile plastered on your face, and you happily step inside. Nanami looks at you, dumbfounded, until he finally closes the door. “You’re such a dork, Kenny”. He sighs at that, trying to be as little awkward as possible when you hug him, your small frame lost in his.

Nanami feels like he’ll never get used to you, even as you sit on the stool he’s set in front of his own, looking like you belong exactly in his dorm room. “You’re staring so much, didn’t even start drawing me yet!” “I’m.. figuring out your proportions.” He mentally curses himself for that, knowing that with the amount of time he’s spent observing you, he remembers every single detail about your face.

Suddenly, you light up. “Do you need me to do any specific poses? I can think of a few.. interesting ones”. Nanami groans loudly, causing you to giggle.

“You’re so uptight again, is something wrong?” Your eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on your lips, as the man in front of you suddenly won’t take his eyes off the canvas.

Nanami feels blush creeping up his neck, and he remembers his conversation with Gojo, thinking about how maybe he should get over himself and ask you out today.

“I’m all good. You just look very captivating today, even more than usual.”

“You can’t just say that!”

Nanami is unsure of what to respond to that, having mustered up all his courage just to tell you that last sentence. He blushes furiously now, picking up his graphite pencil and starting to roughly sketch your features. When his eyes finally dart in your direction, he can tell you’re blushing as well.

You try relaxing your face from your former pout at his sternness, not wanting to make this assignment any harder for him. “So.. do you have any other friends, that I don’t know of?” You hear Nanami sucking in a breath, and try your hardest to keep a natural expression.

“Not really, no. You’re the only one who stayed long enough to make me open up.”

You smile at that, though it’s a rather sad statement. “Would you mind keeping that expression for me?” Nanami’s eyebrows are now furrowed, staring at your face with concentration.

“The smile?”

“Yes, it makes your eyes appear lighter.”

You smile harder at that, and when Nanami finally looks at the canvas, picking up a small brush, you can see a small smile forming on his lips as well.

Nanami feels like his heart might explode out of his chest. The girl he’s been wanting for… well, too long, is currently giving him fuck me eyes without even realizing it. He tries focusing on the drawing instead, soft oil strokes on white canvas, when you speak again.

“You think it’s time for another brainrot lesson?” Immediately, a loud groan follows, making you laugh. “Whatever you want, y/n. Just stay still.” “Whatever you say, Kenny.”

You ponder for a moment, thinking about which brainrot should you teach the poor man this time. “Alright kento, you got two options yeah? When John Pork is calling, do you pick up or not?” “Who is John Pork?” Nanami sounds so serious it scares you, and you hold your laugh in.

“I’ll show you later. Now, since we’ve got plenty of time, what do you know about low taper fade?” “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a haircut, correct?” “You sound terrified, Kento”. Nanami gets up from his stool, now towering over you.

“Such a bratty little thing.” His fingers come up to trace your cheek, almost, before he stops himself. “Stay just like this for a moment,” Nanami says, surprisingly soft. You, of course, obey, looking up at his face, body looming over yours.

Nanami observes your face, trying to etch it into his soul. “Can I..” he murmurs softly, rough fingers brushing against your jaw. You nod, and he gently traces your cheek. You can feel blush spreading all over your neck, surely dusting your cheeks pink.

“Kento?” You look up at him, heart thrumming so loud he must be able to hear it as well. “This is necessary for the process, y/n.” He whispers that, hazel eyes lingering on your lips as his fingers trace your temple.

Your face is on fire now, eyes gleaming as you try catching Nanami’s gaze, yet his eyes are glued to your lips. “You know, you could kiss me if you want to that bad,” you say softly.

In just a moment, his hands are off you, and he’s facing away. “Fuck, too far? I didn’t mean to Kento, I was just-“

“For the love of god y/n, you sit here looking like a fucking angel, and then you say these things..”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, and you sit there, speechless, for the first time.

“You.. what?” Nanami sighs, finally turning back to look at you. “It would be so wrong of me, to kiss you without even asking you out first..” You stand up, feeling his warm body almost touching yours, and you sigh.

“Well then, you better ask me out Kento, we don’t have all day”. Nanami notices, of course, that although you put on a confident front, your fingers nervously twirl the edge of your tank top, and your eyes are somewhat worried, looking up at him.

He tries to stay composed, ears bright red when he takes your hand is his bigger one, bringing it to his chest.

“Would you like to go on a date with me, y/n? I would love to take you to out, if you would allow it.” He braces himself for rejection, even though he knows you feel the same, as your big, gleaming eyes now happily squint at him.

“Fuck yeah, took you long enough, silly boy,” you say happily, arms immediately wrapping around him. You smile so hard your face hurts, burying your face Nanami’s chest, squealing like a little girl until you feel his hands on your shoulders, gently prying you away. You pout at him, crossing your arms and huffing as he chuckles. “Now..” he murmurs, leaning down and finally kissing you.

You stay still for a second, caught by surprise, before your hands immediately tangle in his hair, latching onto his lips like your life depends on it. One of his hands cups your cheek, moving lower to trace your the curve of your jaw before settling at your nape, drawing you deeper into the kiss.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, a taste of something sweet, long desired. Nanami’s lips are firm and surprisingly soft, tasting of coffee and something that’s just uniquely him. You can’t help yourself but bite on his lower lip, making him gasp and let go of the kiss.

You whine at the loss of his warmth, hands moving from his blond locks to grip onto his broad shoulders. Standing on your toes, you whisper in his ear- “You’re so annoying, I barely got to taste you”. Nanami blushes furiously, his hand wandering down to squeeze your hips.

“How am I the annoying one, when you sit here, looking at me with these tantalizing eyes?”

It’s your turn to blush, burying your face in his chest again. “Ugh, you have to stop doing that Kento!” You whine, and he chuckles, kissing the crown of your head.

“Come on, I need to finish your portrait.” With a sigh, you slump back onto the stool, and Nanami sits down at his. He picks up the brush again, continuing the gentle strokes on the canvas before speaking again.

“I’m sorry if I have been.. harsh, with the kiss. It’s a little embarrassing, but I have been craving you for so long, I couldn’t help myself.”

You smile, using all your willpower to not get up and kiss him again. “It’s alright Kento, really, I wanted you for a while as well,” you say, happily watching his cheeks changing shades of red.

“I can’t focus when you tell me things like that y/n. It makes me want to.. never mind.”

“You’re so shy it’s almost funny,” you say with a giggle, making him groan. “Do me a favor, just this once, and talk about anything else, please?”

You can’t say no to his defeated face, so then Nanami quietly cleans his paint brush, listening to you ramble about some show you’ve started watching recently, and how you think he’d like it.

After about an hour of rambling on your side, and hums of agreement on his, the portrait is finished. Nanami carefully places the canvas aside, the oil paint still wet, sticking onto his fingers. It’s almost 6 pm now, and you remember promising Gojo you’d meet up later today. You get up from the stool, quietly walking to stand by Nanami as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

The smell of the paint lingers in air of his dorm room, and you sneakily wrap your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. “Would you mind staying for a little while more?” “Can’t, I promised Satoru I’ll see him today,” you say, smiling when he turns around to look at you. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at his chiseled face.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Will it be okay if I will pick you up at 7 pm for our date?” “Of course Kenny”. Nanami hums, and you let your body melt against his, his arms wrapping around your lower back as you savor the warmth.

“I can drop you off wherever you two are meeting, if you would like that.” “Awww, Kento you’re so mushy already, love that,” you say and giggle, laughing when he groans and buries his face in your hair. “Seriously though, I wouldn’t mind, thank you” and with that, you plant a small kiss on his cheek.

Still in his embrace, you pull out your phone, calling Gojo. You bicker for a couple minutes, eventually agreeing to meet up at some café downtown. When you hang up, Nanami is already there with his car keys in his hand.

“Are you ready to go? Or do you want to stop by your dorm first?”

“You’re too sweet Kento, and I’m good, we can head there now” you poke his nose before opening his dorm’s door, standing there as you wait for him to exit. “Ladies first,” you snicker with a small smile as he passes you, sighing and shaking his head disapprovingly. After he locks the door, he swiftly opens the passenger seat door for you, humming when you murmur a thank you.

Nanami gets in and starts the car, and once he’s on the highway, he puts his palm on your thigh, thumb brushing the soft skin. “I’m honestly surprised, I thought you’d only be driving in the 10 and 2 position,” you snicker and put your hand on top of his.

“Maybe I’m careful, but I can’t help myself when a beautiful woman is sitting right beside me.” You smile at that, stroking his palm as he stares at the road ahead. After a little while you get to the café, and Nanami pulls over just long enough for you to kiss him and say thanks. “Text me when you need pickup, okay?” “It’s okay, I’ll just walk ba-“ “Just text me.” You sigh, and with another kiss you part ways, as you see Gojo waiting for you at the entrance.

You sigh internally, knowing what’s about to come as you walk towards the white haired man. You approach him, and before even entering the place, he immediately jumps on you with a hug.

“What the fuck was that kiss? Girl you better tell me everything” Gojo almost yells that, and you quickly hush him down, walking inside.

After getting your matcha, and Gojo his overly sweet latte, you two sit down. “Okay so before I start you gotta promise not to yell again, I can’t have everyone here staring,” you say with an eye roll, and he eagerly nods. “Whatever you say, just fucking tell me already!”

You almost laugh at his whiney tone, before telling him about everything that happened with Nanami today. You can tell he’s having a hard time containing his excitement, and when you tell him that Nanami insisted on picking you up as well, he damn near cries.

“There’s no way, he’s definitely obsessed with you y/n” “Stop that, we just kissed!” You bury your face in your hands and whine, cheeks burning as you remember the feeling of Nanami’s lips on yours. “Either way, you clearly like him more than you let on,” Gojo says with a big grin.

“What’s up with that smile? You look creepy as fuck,” you snicker, watching him dramatically feign offense. “Can’t I be happy that my best friend finally got a normal boyfriend?” “He isn’t even my boyfriend yet!” You sigh, sipping on your matcha and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh you want him soooo bad, you’re just clueless to it idiot,” Gojo says, grinning again. You decide to stop fighting with him, and change the topic.

“Did you and Kento, like.. tell something to the professor? When you handled her?” You ask, your voice quieter now. “We did, I thought Nanami told you she won’t come near you again” you sigh, facepalming as you remember that night.

“He did, but we’re supposed to have a class with her tomorrow so I’m wondering how it’s gonna go..” Gojo sighs, grabbing his phone. “I’ll text him, we’ll find a way to handle it before class” he says reassuringly, shooting Nanami a quick text before putting the phone back down.

After another hour of the two of you yapping about absolutely everything, you decide it’s time to go. You send Nanami a text, asking if he’s still okay with picking you up, and he immediately replies that he’s on his way.

Gojo leans over the table, peeking over to read your texts. “Fucking lovebirds, I told you he’s obsessed!” Saying that grants him a smack on the head, making him huff and puff as you two walk outside, and he waits with you until Nanami gets there.

When his car pulls over, you both say goodbye with a quick hug, and you happily walk over to the car, getting in and landing a small kiss on Nanami’s cheek, much to Gojo’s delight, who’s still watching you and how flustered the man beside you gets.

“Thanks for coming Kento, you really didn’t have to,” you say softly, a big smile on your face. You feel like a kid, getting excited to see him when you’ve left his place only a couple hours ago, but you can’t help yourself.

“Of course y/n, it’s my pleasure. I want to make sure you get back safely.” He starts driving, and again puts his hand on your thigh. You don’t say anything this time, you simply play with his fingers for the entire drive. When he stops in front of your dorm, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn around in your seat, now facing him.

“Have a good night Ken, hope you have sweet dreams”. You lean in, and he cups your cheeks, warm lips enveloping yours, and you whine into the kiss. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, one that you grant him, moaning softly as the muscle invades your mouth.

Fingers gripping his hair, you break the kiss, panting, your eyes gleaming. Nanami blushes, his breath eventually slowing down. “You too, pretty girl. I’ll see you before class.” You nod and hug him, and then leave the car, entering the dorm building.

You can hear him driving off, and enter your dorm room. You take a deep breath, and finally allow yourself to happily jump around and squeal happily. You can’t believe this, that Nanami actually did all of this just for you. The way he’s changed, everything he said today, sounding all too poetic coming out of his pretty lips.

You sigh dreamily, getting into your pjs, and comfortably cuddle under the thick blankets of your bed, wishing you had asked him to stay over. You may miss him already, which you find slightly embarrassing, but you know you’ll see him tomorrow morning, and you just can’t wait.

Divider credit: @soulari

Taglist: @yourname-exee @realalpacorn @zayuriluvs @galactacium @queenofthekill @nuhahani @nanamineedstherapy @des-todoroki @linaaeatsfamilies @darkstudentsaladbakery @sttaejoon-blog @sosole

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Holding It Together

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST 

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,065ish

Summary: It all becomes too much and Logan can tell.

Warning(s): some angst, mental breakdown

Notes: I wrote this because I'm really struggling right now and I wish I had someone to break down to. You can really imagine any type of Logan you want.

Everything had slowly piled on. From every direction. Work. Family life. Your insecurities. The political climate. Your health problems.

On the outside, you forced yourself to seem put together, positive, and okay. But on the inside, you were breaking faster than you could put yourself together. You didn’t want anyone to know how bad it was getting, but someone was slowly seeing the cracks you didn’t know were coming through your facade. 

Logan first noticed when you laughed at one of Scott’s lame jokes one breakfast. It wasn’t as loud as it usually was, more hollow. The next time, he found you zoned out in the library. He watched you curiously for a moment. And before he could go to you, Ororo pulled you out of your daze and dragged you a long to come help her.

Logan noticed that you were being pulled in too many directions. Everyone wanted your help all the time. To collaborate on lessons. To ask questions. To hang out. Or to run trainings and missions. Then there were the family events you were constantly going to when you had time. He couldn’t remember the last time you took a day off or insisted on staying in your room for the night. Logan was growing concerned that you weren’t going to be able to handle all of this much longer.

One night, on his way to bed, Logan saw you in the hall. You clearly didn’t notice him as a few tears slipped down your cheeks and you seemed to head to your room on autopilot.

“Y/N?” He called your name.

You froze and quickly wiped away your tears. “Hey, Logan,” you forced out a smile. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, his tone full of concern as he stepped closer to you. “Are you okay?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “I’m fine.”

His brow quirked. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

He didn’t believe you one bit. “I’ve noticed that you been non-stop lately.”

“It’s just life,” you shrugged.

Logan shook his head. “No, it’s not, sweetheart. This is much more than that.”

You sighed. “I’m okay, Logan.”

“Y/N—“

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Then you disappeared into your room.

~~~

Logan kept his distance the next day but also made sure that you were in his line of sight most of the day. You were holding yourself like the weight of the world was on your shoulders and Logan hated to see you that way. He just wanted you to be happy and relax.

As they day went on, Logan watched you continually put others before yourself in unhealthy ways. You really had no boundaries. When Kitty asked for your help with prepping dinner, Logan stepped in. He had had enough.

“No, Y/N’s going to go rest,” Logan said, placing himself between you and Kitty.

“What?” You questioned. “Logan, I’m fine.”

He turned around to face you. “No, you’re not. Let’s go.” He gently turned you around and began guiding you to your room. 

“Logan—“

“Not hearing it, sweetheart.”

“Logan, please.” Tears collected in your eyes.

“I’m done watching you run on fumes. You’re going to rest and I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

“No.” You pulled yourself from Logan’s grip and spun around to face him. “I can’t, Logan. I need to keep going.”

“You’re going to get sick if you continue on like this.”

“I have to keep going. If I don’t… Just, please, Logan. I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m not dropping this. You’re running yourself to the ground and I can’t stand by and watch it anymore.”

“There’s just so much,” you admitted quietly, allowing the tears to fall. “If I help everyone else, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Sweetheart…” He stepped closer and carefully cupped your face in his large, rough hands. “Ignoring the problems are just going to make it worse. Trust me, I’m the king of doing that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just all too much, Logan… It’s all too much.” You broke down into sobs and Logan quickly pulled you into him, holding you close.

“I got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

Gently, Logan picked you up and carried you the rest of the way to your room. He tried to set you down on your bed but you gripped him tightly. He toed his boots off as he held you before moving to lay on the bed. 

“You can’t keep going like this, sweetheart,” he told you as you cried against him. “You’re wearing yourself down and it’s hurtin’ me to see.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried.

He shushed your apology. “Don’t do that.”

“Everything’s just so overwhelming… I’m so alone and I don’t know how to handle any of it.”

“I’m not goin’ to let you handle it alone anymore. I’m right here for you, sweetheart.”

You pushed yourself up to try to get off of Logan and shook your head. “No, I can’t put my burdens on you, Lo—“

“Stop that.” He pulled you back against him. “You can’t keep your burdens to yourself any longer. I’m here and willing.”

“Why?”

Logan looked at you and hesitated. How could he possibly tell you that he had a major crush on you when you were at such a low? He would have to wait and be okay with just being a friend for now.

“Because, sweetheart, I care about you,” he responded. “And I’m your friend. Let me help.”

You nodded. “And it all… won’t scare you away?”

“Never, darlin’. Nothing you could say would ever scare me away from you.”

Your breath caught at his words and the look in his eyes. You could see that he was serious and that there was something else behind it. You didn’t push though, not in the right mindset.

“I need you to stop holding it all in, sweetheart,” Logan continued. “I need you to be straight with me and allow me to help you.”

“I don’t know where to even start, Logan… Just the thought of any of it… I get emotional and I—“

“Calm down, darlin’. Breathe. We don’t have to talk about anything right now. Whenever you’re ready.” He kissed your head. “Right now, let me just hold you. Okay?”

You let yourself sink into him further, tears still slipping from your eyes. “What if I fall asleep?”

“Then I’ll hold you until you wake. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[sunshineangel0]

loving you, flaws and all (maknae line)

pairing- stray kids ot8 x reader summary- Your skin has never been perfect, and sometimes, the insecurities weigh you down. But each member of Stray Kids loves you in their own way, showing you that beauty isn’t just about clear skin—it’s about who you are. Through soft moments of reassurance, warmth, and genuine love, they remind you that your acne and scars don’t define you. genre- romance, slice of life, comfort, fluff word count- 1,7k (300-500 words each) warnings- mentions of acne, insecurities, self doubt, protective and affectionate stray kids members, pure wholesome content 🥰 a/n- i was feeling insecure today because of a little flare up so i wrote this. i hope it helps whoever it may need, too. remember, you are perfect no matter how much you brain tells you on insecure days that youre not. hyung line

jisung

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The acne on your cheeks was particularly red today, standing out more than usual, and no amount of skincare seemed to be working. A frustrated groan left your lips as you dragged yourself over to your bed, flopping down face-first into your pillow.

From his spot beside you, Han barely stirred. He’d been lying there scrolling on his phone, but the moment he heard your dramatic sigh, he lowered it, peeking at you with sleepy curiosity.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he mumbled, reaching out to poke your side lazily. You groaned into your pillow before turning your head to look at him. “My skin is awful today.”

Han frowned, rolling over so that he was half on top of you, resting his chin on your stomach. “Says who?” “Says my mirror,” you muttered.

Han gasped, clutching his chest like you had just insulted him personally. “Your mirror is a liar.” You gave him a skeptical look. “Oh yeah? And what do you see?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, his face way too close for comfort. “I see my ridiculously pretty girlfriend who has the softest cheeks, the prettiest eyes, and the cutest little pout ever.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jisung—”

“Shh.” He booped your nose, his grin only widening. “I’m proving a point.”

Before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. Then your cheek.

“Jisung—”

“Nope, not done.” He kissed the other cheek, then your temple, before moving lower, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, trailing down to your chin. You squirmed beneath him, laughter bubbling up despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous,” you giggled.

Han pulled back just enough to grin down at you, eyes twinkling. You sighed, feigning exasperation, but the way your heart swelled at his words gave you away. “Unfortunately, I do love you.”

Han gasped dramatically again, rolling onto his back with a hand over his heart.

“Finally, you admit it. I, Han Jisung, am irresistible.” You snorted, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. “Okay, don’t push it.”

Han laughed, grabbing your hand before you could pull away and pressing one last kiss to your knuckles. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “For real, though… you’re beautiful, baby. Even on days you don’t feel like it.”

Your cheeks warmed—not from embarrassment, but from the overwhelming love you felt for the boy beside you.

Jisung grinned again. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to keep proving it.” You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t stop him.

felix

It was late at night, and the room was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. The fairy lights strung across the walls cast a warm glow, painting the space in shades of gold and amber. You lay in bed beside Felix, your back turned to him, staring at the shadows stretching across the ceiling.

Felix had been watching you for a while now, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns along your arm. His touch was gentle, grounding. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep but still laced with concern.

You sighed. “Just thinking.”

Felix shifted closer, his chest pressing against your back. His warmth surrounded you, making it harder to keep your thoughts at bay. “About what?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, but the words pressed against your throat, too heavy to swallow down. “My scars,” you admitted. “They make me feel… less.”

Felix stilled behind you. He didn’t speak right away, and for a moment, you wondered if you had said too much. But then, slowly, carefully, he reached out and turned you onto your back so you were facing him. His dark eyes searched yours, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“Less?” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “Angel, how could you ever think that?”

You looked away, fingers curling into the sheets. “Because they’re a reminder of all the things I can’t change. No matter what I do, they won’t go away.” Your voice wavered at the end, a confession you weren’t sure you had meant to say out loud.

Felix’s expression softened even more—if that was even possible. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trailed down to your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice so soft, so careful, like he was handling something fragile.

You nodded.

“When I look at the stars,” he murmured, “I don’t see flaws. I see something timeless, something beautiful.” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “Your scars, your skin… they remind me of constellations. They tell a story. And that story is you.”

Your breath hitched. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to blink them away, but one slipped down your cheek. Felix caught it with his thumb, his lips parting slightly as if the sight physically pained him.

“Lix…” you whispered.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, letting his lips rest there for a moment longer than necessary. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “Every part of you.”

That was all it took for the dam to break. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as more tears spilled over. He held you tightly, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles into your back.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words muffled against his hoodie.

Felix only pulled you closer, like he was trying to shield you from your own thoughts, like he was making a silent promise to remind you of your worth every single day.

seungmin

Seungmin was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through something that had his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He looked completely relaxed, like he had no worries in the world. Meanwhile, you were sitting across from him in front of the mirror, fingers hovering over your skin, absentmindedly picking at a blemish.

“Stop that,” he said flatly, without even looking up.

You sighed, but didn’t drop your hand. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he deadpanned. “You always do that when you’re stressed.”

Your fingers froze mid-motion. You turned to look at him, pouting slightly. “It’s just annoying. I feel like my skin never gets better.”

Seungmin finally looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “So what?”

You blinked. “What do you mean, ‘so what’?”

He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You act like it changes who you are. It doesn’t.”

You frowned. “I know that, but—”

“No ‘buts,’” he interrupted, setting his phone down and standing up. He crossed the room in a few steps, coming to stand in front of you. Without warning, he cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Seungmin’s expression was unreadable, his dark eyes steady and unwavering. “You’re still the same person I fell in love with,” he said simply. “The same person who makes dumb jokes, who sings off-key even when I beg them not to, who always steals my hoodies and then pretends they don’t know where they went.”

You giggled despite yourself. “That’s because your hoodies are comfortable.”

“Exactly.” He smirked slightly. “Just like you, no matter what your skin looks like.”

You let out a small breath, the warmth in his voice sinking into your bones. Seungmin wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things, and that made his words hit even harder. He wasn’t just saying this to make you feel better—he meant it.

Your lips quirked up slightly. “You’re annoyingly sweet sometimes, you know that?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Only for you.”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, quick and soft. “Now,” he said, pulling back, “stop picking at your face, or I’ll start flicking your forehead every time I catch you doing it.”

You groaned, tilting your head back. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Seungmin smirked, ruffling your hair like the absolute menace he was. “And yet, here you are, still in love with me.”

You swatted his hand away but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your lips. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

“Obviously,” he said, already grabbing his phone again like he hadn’t just completely dismantled your insecurities in under two minutes.

jeongin

Jeongin had always called you pretty.

At first, you assumed it was just because he was naturally affectionate, the way he casually complimented his friends and always had something sweet to say. But over time, you started to realize—he really meant it.

He said it when you were dressed up for a date, eyes shining under the glow of city lights. He said it when you were wearing pajamas with messy hair, rubbing sleep from your eyes. He said it when you were grumpy, when you were laughing, when you were completely distracted by something else. And he said it on days like today.

You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through pictures on your phone, lost in the endless spiral of perfect skin, flawless complexions, people who looked effortlessly beautiful.

Jeongin, who had been sitting beside you with his head on your shoulder, peeked at your screen and immediately frowned. “What are you looking at?”

You sighed. “Just… people who have flawless skin.”

He pulled back slightly, turning to face you with an exaggerated pout. “But you’re already the prettiest person ever. Why compare?”

You scoffed, shutting your phone off. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

Jeongin gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Excuse me, I would never lie about something this serious.”

You giggled despite yourself. “Oh, it’s serious now?”

“Of course,” he said, crossing his arms with a huff. “My partner being the most beautiful person in the world is a fact.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you by curling into a small smile. “You’re too sweet.”

Jeongin grinned, and before you could react, he tackled you, wrapping his arms around you and squishing you in a tight hug. He nuzzled into your shoulder, his voice muffled against your sweater. “You’re my favorite person,” he murmured. “Nothing about your skin changes that.”

Your breath hitched, your heart swelling in your chest.

He didn’t say it to make you feel better, not as some empty reassurance—he just said it because he meant it.

You let out a small laugh, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tight. “I love you.”

Jeongin pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips curling into that soft, boyish grin that made your stomach flip. “I love you more.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he kissed your cheek quickly and then gasped in mock horror. “I win.”

You groaned. “Jeongin—”

“No take-backs.” He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously before cuddling back into you, sighing dramatically. “Now, as my prize, I require more kisses”

You laughed, threading your fingers through his soft hair. “You’re such a menace.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general tags: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

[cassandra-collin]

I have facial dysmorphia, and I’ve booked an appointment with a psychologist for it. I’m going to do what’s called EMDR therapy.

I don’t really like going to psychologists, but my facial dysmorphia was so severe that I started having suicid@l thoughts and would spend more than three hours a day just looking at myself in the mirror, doing nothing else with my days.

I know that one of my mom’s friends once told her I was beautiful, and the son of her friend also said I had no reason to feel insecure (in a positive way). I’ve been catcalled before, and I also heard a man say, "This girl is pretty," (in french) when he saw me, talking to his friends. Even when I went out yesterday, some men stared at me (I didn’t see them, it’s my mom who told me). But every time, I just tell myself, “They were probably talking about someone else,” “They were just looking at the road,” or “They were probably only looking at my body.” (I think men focus more on my body, like the man who asked me if I did dance.)

I think people don’t realize how hard this is, especially when you don’t receive much external validation outside of social media and a few men on the street. I feel like I’ve been heavily influenced by beauty standards, and I also think some of it might come from childhood trauma.

When I was little, an ex-best friend told me I was fat (there’s nothing wrong with being fat as long as there are no health issues related to it, but it was said as if it was something bad). In middle school, I constantly compared myself to other girls, telling myself they were always thinner and cuter than me. Now I wear an XXS, and I have no issues with my body—only with how I perceive my face.

I even realized that I was telling myself harmful things that were the exact same phrases some people said to me in the past, people who were really mean to me.

When a haircut doesn’t suit me (like the bangs I got recently, which I only posted once on my Tumblr before deleting it), or when my hair is just all over the place, I react much more negatively than someone who doesn’t have facial dysmorphia.

I also have a pretty androgynous face (and an androgynous voice as well), so that adds another layer to it.

And when I see a pretty girl who says she feels ugly (and you can tell she’s being sincere when she says it), and people comment under her video saying she’s just saying that to get compliments because, to them, a beautiful person can't be that insecure, it just annoys me.

Sometimes I find my face pretty and cute, but most of the time, I think it’s too big, too androgynous, too I don’t know… And the thing I notice the most is the expression lines on my face that have become a bit more pronounced (which you can't really see or don’t see at all in my photos because of the lighting, even if it's not done on purpose).

When I post pictures of myself online, I usually ask my mom if the photos look like me because I don’t really know what I look like and I don't want to come across as a "fake." It would make me feel guilty if they didn’t look like me. The only things I allow myself to modify on my face are my pimples and slightly my dark circles (it’s like using a little concealer).

After that, I edit my photos to make them more "aesthetic" (lighting). That’s it. If I don’t look like my photos, I delete them right away and don’t post them.

I also wear glasses, so I don’t really see my "real" face (except in videos and photos), but I plan to get contact lenses. I hope that when my bangs grow back, my facial dysmorphia will lessen as well (because I felt good or better with the haircut I had before, even though I still had facial dysmorphia).

I’m healing now, even though it’s tough, and I have a lot of trauma˖⁺‧₊˚ꨄ︎

(I’m writing all of this to share my experience with facial dysmorphia and to express how serious it can be. Writing about it also helps me calm down, even though I haven’t shared everything.)

Does anyone else look in the mirror long enough and examine your features to the point where you start to get physically nauseous? Just me? Ok