#This probably sucks but now that so many people are talking about these two again I'm spiralling g

[moonkhao]

hi.

[exopelagic]

A list of things I’m frustrated by:

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the bosses daughter part two

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of past hookups, semi public sex, almost caught, golfer!rafe

part one / part two

“who are you looking at?” your dad questions, pressing his face to the window, but there's too many people mulling around to realize who your eyes are on.

“jesus.” you groan and pull the curtains shut. “no one! i was just looking outside at the storm coming in.”

“i don't believe you!” your dad calls as you stomp away. it's telling enough how often you've been at the club, and it's only a matter of time for him to realize that your drop ins are lining up with a certain instructors schedule.

you pull out your phone as you take a seat on the couch, navigating to rafes number. you exchanged it after your third hookup and have been texting nonstop since.

you quickly type out a message, knowing rafe will read it once he's done with his lesson.

supposed to storm soon. dad will notice if any carts are still out. meet you in the storage closet?

you wait for your dad to leave, probably heading back to his office or to scold some employee before you head towards the storage closet, knowing rafe is aware of the one you're talking about.

you sit down at the bench in the hallway, waiting until you hear the familiar footsteps of rafe walking down the hall.

“hi.” you stand up with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips despite not being fully concealed, not too worried about the risk in the isolated area of the country club.

“hey gorgeous.” rafe opens the door and pulls you inside, listening to the chorus of your giggles.

“how was your lesson?” you ask as you both undress, ashamed that this will have to be another quickie, but knowing you need each other's bodies too bad to wait a moment longer.

“good.” rafe hums. “braxtons almost got his swing down.”

“aw, good for him.”

the moment all of your clothes are piled on the floor, the conversation stops abruptly as your lips meet each other's, kissing passionately.

“come here baby.” rafe presses your back to the door, hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, getting so easily lost in your lips.

“come on.” you giggle, pulling away after a couple minutes of kissing. “we can't take too long. dad almost caught me watching you.”

“mmm, you just can't get enough can you?” rafe laughs, hands reaching under your thighs to pull you up. your legs lock around his hips, feeling his cock already hard and pressing against your stomach.

rafes lips are on yours again to swallow your moans as he angles his hips then pushes inside of you, cock feeling just right now that it's at home in your pussy.

“quiet.” rafe reminds you as he pulls away. sure, the likelihood of anyone walking down the hallway is incredibly rare, but he doesn't want to risk not being able to fuck you anymore.

rafe waits for you to nod before beginning to pump his hips forward, the only sounds being what escapes through your clenched lips and the sound of skin slapping together.

“so good and tight for me baby.” rafe whispers, burying his head in your neck. his lips quickly find the spot that he knows drives you wild, sucking a spot that will be hidden from view underneath your shirt collar, adding to his previous collection of hickeys left from past encounters.

“fff… faster.” you manage to say in a soft voice. 

rafe responds instantly, increasing his pace as you begin to bring your hips up and down, bouncing the best you can while still being hoisted in the air.

“that's it, baby.” rafe praises your effort. 

“god, your cock is just-” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “so perfect.”

“wait.” rafe pauses suddenly with his cock buried as deep inside of you as he can get it.

he presses his ear to the wood of the door, waiting and listening as footsteps make their way down the hallway. “shit.” rafe whispers.

“keep moving.” you whine in rafes ear. “please.”

“baby, shh.” rafe places a hand over your mouth, but you're not satisfied, hips pushing forward and back to force rafes cock to continue moving, needing to cum.

“you're gonna get us caught, dirty girl.” rafe whispers harshly in your ear, but he begins to help you bounce on his cock.

rafe listens carefully as the footsteps pass by the storage room and make their way out the rarely used back door.

“they're gone.” rafe says, slamming you hard against the door, hips pounding punishingly hard inside of you, cock swelling inside of you, a tell tale sign of his high approaching.

“harder.” you squeal. rafe isn't sure he can push himself any more, but he is willing to try for you, glad when your back arches forward, chest pressing into his as you cum with a not so quiet moan.

the pulsating squeezing of your cunt around his cock has rafe cumming hard, letting out low groans himself as he finishes off with a few pumps, riding out your orgasms together.

“fuck, you almost got us caught.” rafe laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips as he eases you off his cock carefully, hands staying on your hips until your feet are firmly on the floor.

“just can't resist you.” you giggle, grabbing your clothes and starting to get redressed. “i do hate all this sneaking around though.”

“you know…” rafe says, tugging his shirt over his head. “i say fuck it. let's just ask your dad if we can date. as much as i love fucking you after every shift, id like to also take you out and not just settle for texting you.”

“i guess it doesn't hurt to ask.” you shrug.

--

“dad…” you step into his office, rafe close behind you. “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

your dad stands up from behind his desk, his height imposing as his face twists to a sour one.

“and what would that be?” he looks past you at rafe.

“sir, i wanted to ask your permission to take your daughter out on a date. i will have her home by 10 pm.”

your dad's eyebrows raise up before he quickly wipes the surprised look off his face.

“fine.” he grunts out, eyes flickering between the two of you as you smile widely. “only because you're doing this the right way by asking me first.”

you attempt to disguise your laugh with a cough.

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, sneaking around, getting caught, jealousy, daddy kink, praise/degradation, sensory deprivation (blindfold), threesome, oral(m!receiving), unprotected sex, jealous!matt, jealous!chris, sneaky!reader

🖤 summary: 🖤 while exchanging information about their sex lives, matt and chris find out you've been hooking up with them both behind the other's back.

i got this idea from @sturnobessed who had the idea for this plot, and it was also heavily inspired by these two edits ( 1 & 2) that make me cum everytime. okay, enjoy! (also, chat, i think i might be a chratt girl???)

soaked

"Who are you textin'?" Chris collapsed down onto the couch, teasingly nudging his brother Matt, who was smirking down at his phone. "Just a girl I've been talking to," Matt vaguely responded, eyes glued to your text. "Is that code for fucking?" Chris chuckled, nudging him again. "It might be," Matt replied, silently reading the dirty message you'd just sent him:

"In desperate need of your cock. Come over. I'll do that party trick with my mouth that you like so much."

"How long have you guys been talking?" Chris asked his brother, eager to hear more about the girl that had him smiling like that. "A few weeks. It's nothing serious. We're just messing around," Matt shrugged, still gazing down at his phone screen. "I've been talking to a girl for about the same amount of time. She's really fucking hot," Chris bragged. "Can't be hotter than my girl," Matt scoffed.

"She does this thing when she's giving me head," Chris started to say, but then he stopped himself. "Go on. Finish your sentence," Matt perked up, curious to hear what he was going to say. "She just does this thing with she teases the tip with her tongue while she's sucking and bobbing up and down on it. And she'll moan while she does it. It's like, multi-dimensional," Chris relayed, his cock twitching at the thought of it.

"Wait, because my girl does the same exact technique," Matt narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I mean, that's probably common. I don't know. I haven't gotten head from that many people, but I didn't know it was possible for someone to do that many things with their mouth at one time. She calls it her party trick," Chris responded, running his fingers through his hair. His body temperature was rising just thinking about it.

Matt stared intently off into the distance, taking in this familiar information. "Chris, I think we may be fucking the same girl," Matt admitted after a few seconds of silence. "No way. What would even be the odds of that ever happening?" Chris gave the boy to his left a skeptical look.

"On the count of three, say her name," Matt replied, setting down his phone and turning towards his brother. They counted to three in unison, and then at the same time, your name passed through both of their lips. The two of them stared at each other with widening eyes and dropped jaws as it dawned on them that you might have been sleeping with both of them behind the other's back.

"There's only one way to know for sure," Matt said, picking up his cellphone and going to his gallery. "I'll pull up a picture of my girl, and you pull up a picture of yours," Chris suggested, flipping through his camera roll. They placed their phones side-by-side, each clicking on your photo and confirming their suspicions.

"Holy shit, it's the same girl," Matt replied. He felt jealousy coursing through his veins. "I mean, I'm not planning on dating her. Is it weird if we both just keep fucking her?" Chris wondered out loud, laughing. "I have a better idea. What if we confront her?" Matt asked with a twinkle in his eye. This idea piqued Chris' interest. "I'm listening."

"She's texting me right now, practically begging me to go over and do her. What if we both show up?" Matt devilishly grinned at his brother. "Why the fuck is she texting you and not me?" Chris asked, checking to see if the service on his phone was working. "Maybe I just give better dick than you," Matt nonchalantly responded, knowing how to push his brother's buttons.

"Or maybe she's just saving the best for last. You know, asking you to come over first as a warm up before she invites me over later to finish her off," Chris shot back. Matt punched Chris in the arm. Hard. "We'll see about that," Matt muttered. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting we..?" Chris raised an eyebrow at Matt.

"I'm suggesting we make her choose. Have her tell us who fucks her better. She put us in an uncomfortable situation, and now we're going to put her in an uncomfortable situation," Matt shrugged. "Get even. I like it," Chris nodded, impressed by his brother's plan.

"I'm on my way over. Leave your door unlocked. Wear that pretty lingerie set I like. I want you blindfolded and waiting for me when I get there," Matt maliciously texted back.

Matt couldn't help that he was always one step ahead of everyone. He wanted to get back at both of you, at you, for lying to him and at Chris, for his smart mouth.

He drove over to your house, going a bit faster than normal. The entire time he was death gripping the steering wheel and clenching his jaw. Chris sat beside him playing a new Lil Skies song as they cruised through the winding roads and mountains to your place.

"So, what's the game plan?" Chris asked Matt as the two of them pulled into your driveway. "She doesn't know we know yet. I told her to wait up there in her room for me. Blindfolded. Just follow my lead. Let me do the talking," Matt relayed to Chris as they got out of the car and let themselves inside.

Matt held his finger up to his lips as they made their way up the stairs, trying to synchronize their steps as much as possible, so you couldn't distinguish between their two sets of footsteps. Matt rested his hand on the doorknob of your room and began to turn the handle.

"I've been waiting for you," you lustfully responded, laying on your bed with your legs spread while you were in your pink lingerie with a matching blindfold covering your eyes. They both took in the sight, burning your image into their memories.

"Hey, baby. Sorry it took so long. My brother, Chris and I had to clear something up before I could come over," Matt smirked at the way you laid there, unsuspecting. "Oh, yeah? Well I hope you guys got it figured out," you nibbled on your lip, nervous to hear Matt say his brother's name. "Oh, we sure did. You look so pretty, baby," Matt said, wandering over towards you and starting to run his fingers under the pretty fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whine.

"What are you doing?" Chris silently mouthed to Matt with a confused expression. Matt held his finger to his lips again while he gazed into Chris' eyes. "Trust me," Matt silently replied. Chris read his brother's lips, but he couldn't help but be skeptical of him.

"I know you don't like to talk about the other guys you see, and don't get me wrong, we're not official or anything, so I respect that. But wouldn't it be hot if I fucked you in front of one of them and made them watch?" Matt asked you, a malicious smile overcoming his face while he pulled his dick out of his sweatpants.

"Oh, my god. That does sound kind of hot," you whimpered back as Matt pulled your panties to the side and started teasing your hole with his tip. Chris' jaw tightened as he realized what Matt was doing. He was totally cucking him.

"I know you must really like those other guys you entertain, but you must like me the most, huh? Is that why you're always begging me to come over and ruin you?" Matt cooed, sinking into your heat. "Ahhh. Yes, daddy. You treat my pussy so good," you murmured back, adjusting to his thick rod as it stretched you out.

"Tell me I do it the best," Matt replied, glancing up at Chris, who was shocked, angry, and admittedly a little turned on. "You do it the best, daddy. No one could ever fuck me as hard as you," you cried out as Matt started thrusting inside of you. Chris' cock twitched as he listened to you moaning his favorite word to hear during sex, daddy.

"You know. We have a little bit of a problem, sweetheart. Daddy knows you've been naughty," Matt cooed, still picking up the speed as he pounded into you. "Yeah? Have I been a naughty girl?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone, assuming it was all part of the role play.

"You know you have. Why did you lie to me and tell me you've never met my brothers, hmm?" Matt asked in a sweet sounding voice, but his intentions were far from it. You gulped. "I haven't. I've never spoken to Chris," you said defensively, hoping Matt wasn't onto you. "Blowing your cover already. I didn't say which brother. You know, you're not a very good liar," he replied to you.

"I-I'm not lying," you said in a quiet voice. Panic flooded your system. You thought you'd done such a good job at sneaking around with both of them, making sure they'd never crossed paths when leaving and coming to your house.

"I'm not enough for you, huh? You need my brother, too?" Matt smirked, still rocking his hips back and forth. "I don't know why he'd say that," you responded in between moans, still playing dumb. "Yeah? You think he's just jealous or something?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, maybe he's just jealou- oh!" You whimpered as Matt grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, filling you to the hilt with his length. "If he's never met you, then why does he know about that thing you do with your mouth?" Matt questioned you. "I don't know what you mean," you bluffed.

"Sure, you do. I know how proud you are of that trick. Remember? You used it to make me cum a few days ago? I complimented you on it," Matt grunted. You reached up to peek under your blindfold, but Matt stopped you. "Ah, ah, ah. No peeking," he swatted your hand away. "How does he know about it?" Matt asked again, his voice becoming more stern, envy seeping into his tone.

Your stomach dropped, and you swallowed hard. You decided to double down. "I don't know, daddy. I don't know how he knows," you whined as Matt pumped into you mercilessly. "Well, he seems to know a lot about it, so why don't you ask him?" Matt chuckled.

"Ask him?" You said with a confused inflection. "Yeah. Since you don't know, just ask him yourself," Matt said, removing the blindfold you had wrapped around your head and throwing it back at you. Your gaze immediately met the eyes of the brother you didn't even know was in the room with you yet. "Chris," his name escaped your lips as more of a sultry moan. "Yeah, now you know who he is, don't you? Does he make you cum as hard as I do, baby?" Matt asked, leaning over and grazing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You nervously shifted your glance between both of them. Fuck, you thought to yourself. "I thought I was the only one you called daddy in bed," Chris told you with a twinge of jealousy and hurt in his voice, taking a few steps closer to you.

"So, we don't really appreciate that you've been keeping us both a secret from the other, and we're gonna make you choose. Which one of us do you want more?" Matt wondered, studying your pathetic expression while he hit your sweet spot. "I can't choose," you softly mewled, shaking your head.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just pick one. Who fucks you better, hmm?" Chris asked, coming around to the side of the bed to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. "Yeah. Pick one. Who's it gonna be?" Matt chimed in. "Both of you," you whispered.

"What was that, sweetheart? Speak up," Chris smirked down at your needy expression and started teasing your nipples through your pretty, pink bra. "Both of you," you cried out. "Both of us?" Matt chuckled at how desperate you sounded. "If I can't have you both at the same time, then I don't want either one of you," you said in a bratty tone.

"Yeah, sure. I've had to share my toys with Chris my whole life, and now I have to share my favorite one?" Matt sighed and rolled his eyes. "You really can't pick just one? You know I get jealous easy," Chris peered down at you lustfully, pulling out his throbbing member and sliding it between your lips.

"Yeah. Come on. Don't you know I'm the jealous type, too, baby?" Matt cooed, reaching down and stimulating your clit with his thumb. "Such a greedy little slut. One of us isn't enough to satisfy you, hmm? Open up," Chris demanded, You stuck out your tongue, and Chris began gently tapping the head of his dick against your tastebuds while he reached into your lacy bra and cupped your breast.

"It's okay, baby, you don't have to lie to spare Matt's feelings. I know I make you feel so much better than he ever could," Chris whimpered, running his pink tip along your soft tongue. "I bet Chris has never made you squirt like I did the other night," Matt shot back, digging his fingers into the fleshy insides of your thighs while he rammed into you.

"Who cares if you made her squirt once?" Chris sneered at Matt. "Remember when I made you cum five times in a row last weekend, baby?" Chris turned his attention back to you, sinking more of his length behind your pouty lips. "Five times?! Jesus, Chris. Quality over quantity," Matt ranted.

"Come on, babe. Do that little thing I like," Chris cooed, ignoring his brother and stroking your cheek. You generously bobbed your head while you circled his tip with your tongue, suckling as you did so and moaning against all his sensitive nerve-endings.

You loved the way Chris reacted to your party trick. The way he'd hold eye contact and grip the back of your head while smiling and biting his lip. You relished in the sweet sounds from Chris that filled your ears as a bit of his pre-cum pooled onto your tastebuds.

Matt continued jackhammerimg into you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm. "You don't even have the patience to edge her and make her squirt, do you?" Matt snarked at Chris. "Why the fuck would I wait when I can make her finish over and over?" Chris retorted.

The way they were arguing with one another, fighting over you, and taking verbal jabs at each other made you clench around Matt. Chris grabbed ahold of your hair while you hummed against his cock, and you stared into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Don't fucking look at him. I'm the one making you cum right now," Matt glared at you while you came undone around him. "Maybe I'm just more fun to look at," Chris shot back, giving you a devilish grin. You glanced between them both, unsure of who to give your attention to. You couldn't get enough of either one of them.

Your climax washed over you, trapping you in its riptide and flooding your system with immense waves of pleasure, ebbing and flowing through every inch of you. Soon, you weren't looking at either one of them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, but both of their mental images played on the insides of your eyelids.

It was happening again. You felt yourself squirt, your fluids spurting all over Matt's rod as the knot in your stomach came unraveled. Your whole body violently shook as you soaked your sheets, and you let out a slew of delighted sounds as you finished.

"See how good I make her feel?" Matt snarked at his brother. "Just wait until it's my turn to make her cream all over my cock," Chris challenged. After your orgasm subsided, you breathlessly shifted your gaze between them again. They each slowed their movements, pulled themselves out of you, and switched places.

"Why don't you clean up the mess you made?" Matt suggested, a double meaning in his words while he shoved his sensitive head between your lips. Chris lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in his tip, letting you get used to him inch by inch. He watched the way he disappeared into your hole, flickering his gaze up at your desperate expression.

He gently rested his hand on your lower stomach and started applying pressure while he was inside of you, deviously smirking up at you while your eyes rolled back once more. Matt sweetly smiled down at you and the way you generously accepted him.

"That's it. Show me that trick again," Matt demanded. You obediently listened, encircling all his favorite nerve endings with your tongue while you sucked on it. You pumped him in and out of your mouth while your lips vibrated against him, and you watched his reaction.

You loved watching him lose his composure, the way his forehead would wrinkle, and the way his jaw would drop. Matt's knees grew weak, and his eyes lost focus as you swirled your tongue around on it. "You're so good at that," he whimpered, savoring the sensation.

"Stop watching him," Chris gently smacked his hand against your face a few times to pull you out of the trance Matt had you in. "Look at me instead," he said with an imperative and dominant tone. Your eyes shot up at Chris, who was burrowed deep inside of you. "Don't listen to him. Look at me," Matt cooed, carressing your face and tilting it further in his direction.

"Matt can fuck off. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes while you cum for me," Chris commanded you, maintaining his stamina and tilting your chin to make you watch him instead. "Shut up, Chris," Matt barked, fucking your face. "You shut up. Let her enjoy how good I make her feel," Chris shot back, his tip getting to all your hard-to-reach places.

An explosive feeling brewed deep within you. You could feel your heat rhythmically clenching around Chris as you reached your climax. Your juices flowed out of you, coating Chris' length in your essence. "One," Chris counted, smirking down at you.

You felt desire burning in your core as he continued pumping in and out of you after he made you finish, coaxing another orgasm out of you. "Two," Chris cooed, mercilessly fucking you harder than before. You lost control of your body, giving into the throes of ecstasy that overtook you. Your legs trembled as you reached your third climax in a row.

"Three," Chris grunted, pumping in and out of your pink hole that was drooling all over his dick. You felt yourself fluttering in and out of consciousness as Chris pulled climax after climax out of you. "Okay, I get the point, Chris," Matt replied. "Get on your fucking knees, you two-timing slut," Chris commanded you.

You obediently fell to your knees in front of them and opened your mouth for them. They both fervently pumped their cocks back and forth while you hungrily waited to swallow their loads.

Simultaneously they each finished onto your tongue, filling your tastebuds with their flavor and moaning in unison as they smirked down at you. You loved the way they looked, towering over you with the pleasure you made them feel engraved into their expressions.

"You really can't choose, huh?" Chris asked, peering down at the mess you were after they were done. You glanced back and forth between them with your big doe eyes as you wiped their cum from the corners of your lips, "I can't. I really mean it."

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[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[bellatrixscurls]

two ghosts | part 1

pov : lily rejects james many times, until he finally gives up. but y/n and sirius are there for him, in more ways than one.

warnings : smut (next part), mentions of ex!bully!james, fluff (it probably sucks cus i only know how to write smut), sub jamie if you squint, pet names, established relationship between reader and sirius. please lmk if there are more! <3

part two

“I’m telling you, sweetheart. It’s nothing your pretty cunt can’t fix” Sirius winks at you, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth, causing you to roll your eyes. He obviously notices, as he is sat across from you, and smirks.

Remus is eyeing you both suspiciously, and clears his throat. “I can think of more situations you,” he looks at you and you blush slightly in embarrassment, “cannot fix. So what is it now?”

Sirius giggles like a little kid, and you shake your head, your cheeks way too red by now. “I think Prongs needs some.. relief. Poor thing is so crabby these days, and it’s all because of that stupid mudblood.”

“Sirius!” you shriek, kicking his foot under the table. “Okay, alright! I was just looking for something bad to say about her.”

Remus rolls his eyes and Peter places his fork down, blue eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly interested. “What do you mean by relief? I mean, he’s been refusing to tell me what’s wrong and yes, he is acting a bit strange, but I can’t think of anything that could help him. Unless you want to get him a date with Evans, which is not an option.”

Peter’s speech leaves all of you speechless. You’ve looked at the situation as more of a joke, not realising how sweet Jamie turned to grumpy, fussy James. “I mean, not that I would want to get him a date with that one” Sirius scoffs, his hands raising in surrender as you and Remus glare at him.

“And why would that be, Sirius?” you find it’s your turn to tease him, to which he scoffs again, giving you an wide-eyed look when he spots James approaching the ton of you.

His head is a mess of curls that bounce furiously as he walks messily, his eyes are bigger than usual and his face seems to scream ‘I’m tired!’. His clothes, surprisingly, are not wrinkled. Well, it’s a surprise to anyone but you, cus you are the one who prepared them for him the night before.

“Morning” his voice is thick with sleep, barely gazing at you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side only for a few seconds. “Thank you for taking care of me” he says softly, obviously referring to his robe, shirt and trousers.

Your eyebrows shoot up, clearly surprised by the little gesture, and the guys seem to be as surprised, if not more than you are. “No bother, Jamie.”

The atmosphere in the common room is tense, and you all can sense it. Even James.

“You can talk to me, you know” he scoffs, slightly annoyed as he looks up for merely a second, eyeing Sirius, and his face somehow softens.

Sirius looks at him sadly. “We are worried about you, we don’t want you to lose yourself just because some red-headed chick doesn’t want you.”

And then, you all know that he screwed up.

James stands up abruptly, and looks down at Sirius, his usually gentle blue eyes now a few shades darker. “She’s not- You don’t know what it feels like, Sirius” he calls him by his first name, not Pads, and not Siri, and you can see Sirius’ face soften and his bottom lip jutting out just slightly. “You’ve found Y/n a long time ago, and even before you didn’t have a problem with girls ever refusing you. You don’t know how it feels.”

You all fall silent, your hand coming up to gently rub at his back, his head leaning into your neck as he nuzzles against your skin. “We just want our Jamie back, honey. I promise you so many other people in this school want you for you.”

“You promise?” he looks at you with those doe eyes that always make you melt.

“I do. And maybe it’s best that you didn’t get with Lily, who knows what would’ve happened. I promise there is someone there for you.”

By the end of your speech, you can only hear James hum softly as you continue to rub his back. A few minutes pass by, and Remus whispers to you, letting you know that James is sleeping. And so you sit more comfortably against the sofa, allowing yourself to rest for a little bit as well.

♥︎

Shifting pulls you from your deep slumber only a few hours later, and you find your arms empty, no trace of James anywhere. You sigh softly as you move to stand up, taking the blanket, that you were not aware was there, with you.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake” Sirius beams when you stand up, and you almost have a heart attack when you hear his voice, being pulled away from your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, lazily dragging yourself and finally throwing yourself into his arms, the boy taking that as a sign to sit down, with you still in his arms. “I missed you” you smile into his chest, engulfed by his intoxicating scent. He smells like he always does, but to you, it’s much more than that.

“Me too, sweetheart” he kisses your forehead, his eyes closing and so do yours.

But little do you know, James is watching the two of you the entire time, and his heart drops and swells at the same time. He wants that, but he is glad that his best friends have it.

♥︎

The next day, you walk with Sirius, hand in hand, towards your Herbology class. He is telling you about his new partner in partner in Potions when you spot James leaning against the wall, talking to Lily.

“Siri, he’s doing it again” you pout, looking up at your boyfriend as he looks in their direction, his eyes darkening at the sight.

“Oh fuck” he swears under his breath, and you frown. “I can’t hear him cry for the entire night again, breaks my heart” he gulps and you brush your hand against his cheek gently, making him look st you.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe he is okay now” you try to reason with him and he seems to soften for a moment, not long though, cus James is messily walking away from Lily, his eyes red and lips puffy. You look back at him, his eyes not once leaving yours as he walks away, heading towards the Gryffindor Tower.

“Yeah, he seems pretty content” Sirius scoffs to himself, running one of his hands through his hair as the other holds your waist.

“Bring him to my dorm” you tell him, your eyes widening before you continue. “I- I mean, both of you. We can take care of him, make sure he doesn’t feel alone and maybe forgets what happened for the night.”

Sirius looks at you like you are his Moon, the one who always brightens his path when it gets dark. I mean, he’s told you that before.

“You are a genius!”

♥︎

After classes, you went to find James, but found him in the worst situation you thought possible.

He is with Lily. Meanwhile the red-head is reading her book on the sofa, James is knelt in front of her, gently tugging at her delicate arm, but she pays him no mind. “Lily, I just- please, just a date, just one” he whispers softly, not wanting to disturb her more than he already does.

She rolls her eyes, and sighs. “James, I don’t know how many times to tell you that I’m not interested” she says sadly, and you can see his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t.. you were mean to my friends, James. Mean to me. For a very long time, and even though it was long before you liked me, I can’t” she finally confesses, cupping his cheek with her palm.

Your eyes widen and so do James’.

He lets out a soft ‘oh’ and quickly wipes his tears, baby blue eyes blinking in shock. He didn’t know.

“Oh okay... Okay then, that’s fine” he nods frantically, slowly standing up from his knees and brushing his hands over his robe. “I’m sorry, Lily” you see him pout slightly before he practically runs away.

You wait until Lily stands up and finally follow James upstairs, not wanting to make it seen like you were eavesdropping. You were, but.

Knocking gently on the door, you are met with a muffled and small ‘yes?’

“Jamie, it’s Y/n” you lean your head against the door, your eyes closing as you listen to the shuffling in the room.

Moments later, he opens the door and your shoulders drop when you see his state. He hasn’t been himself for weeks now, but he has never looked this way until now. He looks a mess, and his bed is the same.

“Darling” you frown slightly, not touching him because you don’t know if that’s okay yet. “D’you wanna go to my dorm? You can stay with me tonight, Siri will be there too.”

You try to soothe him, explaining that you will listen to him as much as he needs, but when he hears ‘your dorm’ and ‘Siri’, his ears perk up and he starts nodding fervently, grabbing his blanket and shutting the door behind him.

You give him a small smile before you guide him to your dorm, where your boyfriend is waiting for you. He probably doesn’t expect you to manage to get James to come, so his eyes widen a little bit when he sees him, but he clears his throat and stands up from your couch, greeting you. Sirius’ arms snake around your waist as he gives you a sweet peck on the lips, before he moves to James.

The bespectacled boy’s back is glued to the door, sitting there timidly as he tries not to look at you both, but he fails miserably. “Hi there, Prongsie” Sirius teases him and James smiles a genuine smile, his eyes closing as Sirius brings him into his arms, the long-haired’s boy scent just as intoxicating as it is to you.

“Do you want to talk to us, babe? Tell us what happened?” you quip as you take James’ hand in yours and you usher him to sit on your perfectly made bed, the sheets soft beneath him.

He looks up at you, then at Sirius, and sighs softly. “I used to be a bully” he confesses, as if it is a secret, “And ‘s why she doesn’t like me... Lily.”

Sirius’ grimace is more than present on his face. He remembers those times, up until third year, when he met you. You’ve changed him, and them, for that matter. James has always been a sweet boy, but he used to think that he was superior to the others. Not now, though.

“That was way too long ago, though. We were kids” Sirius whispers defeatedly, he knows that’s not an excuse.

“I was terrible” James says and a sob catches in his throat. Your heart almost breaks and then you understand what Sirius meant when he said that James crying made his own heart break. “I regret that, I don’t want to ever do that again.”

You pout, inching your hand closer to his as you slowly caress it, your eyes moving from him to your boyfriend. “It’s been age, Jamie” Sirius speaks softly, “you have changed, that’s not you anymore. Sure, you cannot erase your past, but you cannot let it define you either. That’s. not. you.”

James looks up at him with hope, and Sirius grins widely. “Look at you, you are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. So pretty as well” Sirius’ tatted hand cups James’ soft, pale cheek and the younger boy melts against his skin. “Yeah?” he breathes, batting his eyelashes at Sirius, who nods proudly.

But when Sirius notices that James’ hand is moving up his thigh, he removes his hand from his hand from his cheek and stands up, walking towards a smaller chest of drawers, where you keep his clean clothes for when he comes over.

James’ breath hitches and tears start pooling at his eyes. He tries to be quiet, but you are still beside him and hear it. “What is it, sweet boy?” you ask, frowning.

He just shakes his head, burying his face into your soft pillow. “M sorry” he sobs, his tears most definitely soaking your pillow.

“Sorry?” you ask and he hums, still not looking at you. “Tried to touch Siri” he admits, “you have.. you’ve just been so good to me, I-”

“Oh, love, I’m not upset with you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to touch Siri?” you joke and he giggles softly, lifting his head from the pillow.

“Okay I’m back and I got you my shirt and this pair of boxers, I hope they fit you- Hey, why are you crying?”

─

next part will probably be just a little bit of fluff and smut, but i thought i’d share this little thought with you guys. i will write the other fic ideas soon, please bear with me <3.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving VII

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Olympic chaos with your sister

Y/NPutellas.S has started a live video. Click to join!

"-Got two backpacks," You're saying as Alexia clicks on your video," I think one of them might become my racket bag because the one I'm using right now is falling apart."

You shove the bags away, glancing around the space as you drag more towards you.

"There's a toiletry bag as well which is full of stuff I probably won't even use."

You pause as you scroll through the comments.

"What sport am I competing in? Oh, I'm doing tennis...Who will be the hardest to play against? Iga, always. I train with her most of the time and I think I've only beaten her a few matches this year. She's scary. Coco always gives me a good competition too. I think she text me a few hours ago but I haven't answered just yet."

You go back to showing off your haul.

You're very complimentary of all of the shoes but you seem confused as to why you've been given so many socks.

Alexia takes a screenshot of a weird face you make while trying on the bucket hat and hastily makes it her profile picture.

"I'm not a fan of the opening skirt," You tell your followers," It's not really my style. I'll wear it because I have to but...What's that? My sister's here?"

You crowd a bit closer to your phone, brows furrowed as you scroll up looking for Alexia's comments.

She feels triumphant at the look of horror on your face when you see her profile picture.

"Alexia!" You shriek," Change it back! My eyes aren't even open! Ale, please!"

Alexia does not change it back and you swear under your breath at her.

"I'm telling Mama!"

Alexia Putellas: Go ahead, you little snitch

"I'm not a snitch!"

Alexia Putellas: Yes, you are

"Don't listen to her guys! She's such a liar!"

You've always been more active on social media than Alexia and fans eat up any content you post on your TikTok. Most of your fans are just people that watch tennis but you've gone viral overnight when you posted a video of you and Iga reuniting at the Olympic Village.

Suddenly, everyone wants content from you and you're posting more than you ever have before.

A lot of it still centres around your tennis, out on the practice courts with the rest of team Spain but there's more domestic things like you retaping your racket grip and showing off everything in the Olympic Village.

Something in Alexia snaps when you make a video complaining about how uncomfortable your cardboard bed is. Suddenly, she's stitching your video.

Her camera pans across her normal hotel bed and ends with her giving a thumbs up to the camera with a smug grin on her face.

Her own fans go crazy over her posting something outside of sponsorships and it's strange to see that some people don't even know who you are.

woso.alexia.engen: Who was the first person in the video???? -> captainklittle: Alexia's little sister! She's representing Spain for tennis!

A second stitch appears hours later, piggybacking off a video of you complaining about your lack of AC. There's no sound apart from the very deliberate flick of Alexia's own AC switch.

It seems every complaint you post, Alexia finds a way to show off how much better she has it in a hotel outside of Paris.

You decide, perhaps a little pettily, to show off what she's missing.

"Hi, guys!" You say," I know a lot of people were wondering about pin trading so I thought I would bring you along for the ride! I've already got a Poland one from Iga and a US one from Coco but I've been wanting a Team GB one and I'm also meeting up with Paolini so she can give me an Italy one."

It's another live video and thank god there's a break in training, so Alexia can jump onto it again.

Jenni and Misa crowd around her at the same time, curious as to what's going on with you.

"I was talking to Carlos at breakfast and he was telling me that the coaches have ordered us all mattress toppers because the beds have started to affect how we're performing."

Alexia Putellas: Sucks to be you, doesn't it?

"Alexia, I swear to god if you keep bullying me then I'm telling Mama and she'll fly out to whoop your ass!"

Alexia Putellas: 🤪

"And Jenni I knew that it's you that just sent that because Alexia doesn't understand emojis."

"Fuck," Jenni mutters.

"Wait, give me the phone. I'll fix it," Misa says.

Alexia Putellas: Who's Jenni?

"Misa, I know that's you as well. Stop trying to cover for each other and I'll tell Mama and she'll whoop all of you."

Alexia doesn't get her phone back for the rest of your live but she does get a strongly worded text from Eli after it's over to grow up and not let her friends bully you.

Alexia calls you a snitch.

You remind her that she should stop bullying you.

"Look who it is!" Jenni cajoles as you come running out of the village to crash into Alexia," Baby Putellas!"

But you're not really listening to her as Alexia presses her forehead against yours, whispering fast Catalan to you as you giggle.

"Aw..." Misa continues where Jenni left off," Look at them! Two sisters! Reunited!"

You and Alexia push each other away, turning your back and pretending that you weren't hugging just a few moments ago.

You turn back to her quickly, hand out. "Can I have your pins?"

"What? No! They're mine!"

"You're not even in the Village! You can't use them!"

"Yes I can!" Alexia splutters out," I've been trading them!"

"Yeah? With who?"

"Jenni!"

"Liar! You've got the same pins! Come on, Ale. Give them over!"

"I will...for a price."

As Alexia lays out her terms, you bring everyone up to your room.

Jenni and Misa split off briefly to check out the dining hall but Alexia comes straight up with you.

"It's actually cardboard," She says, poking at your bed frame.

"Yeah? Do you think we were all lying about that? It's proper cardboard. You can draw on it if you want."

A smile splits your sister's face open.

"Never mind. I don't want you drawing on my bed."

Alexia pokes it. "Do you think it's true? That two people can't get on it at the same time?"

You shrug, rummaging through your bedside table. "I don't know. Why?"

You never get your answer though.

Arms are around your waist suddenly and you're being hauled backwards as Alexia slams herself onto your bed, dragging you back with her.

You may not get an answer but Alexia certainly does because the moment the two of you land, there's an almighty ripping noise and your bed goes to ground very quickly.

"Oops," You sister says.

"Alexia!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't sound very sorry at all."

"Yeah...You're right. I'm not sorry in the slightest. Hey! Stop hitting me!"

"You're lucky I'm not beating you with my rackets!"

"Hey. Hey! It's fine! You can get a new bed."

"Jenni and Misa are going to take the piss out of me! How could you do this, Ale?"

As annoying as your sister is, she at least has the decency to push the blame off onto her friends as you both hastily raise your bed up again and wait for Jenni and Misa to arrive.

They seem to have the same idea as Alexia, jumping onto your bed without so much of a greeting.

But, as planned, the bed collapses under them and the shock of their faces is enough for Alexia breaking your bed to be worth it. Their faces are even funnier as they head downstairs to ask for a new one for you.

Behind your back, Alexia passes you a handful of pins.

JenniHermoso10 has started a live video. Click to join!

"Forward! Forward!"

"I am going forward!"

"More forward! When I say forward, it doesn't mean shuffle! It means walk forward! You're a person not a pigeon!"

"And here we have Olympic football player Alexia Putellas and Olympic tennis player y/n Putellas, attempting to climb onto the rings," Jenni narrates from behind the camera.

"It's not going well," Misa says, as Alexia nearly throws you from your spot on her shoulders," Alexia is clearly struggling."

"I'm not struggling!" Alexia insists, yelping as you twist her hair in your hands.

"Forward!

"This is as forward as I can get!"

"That's such bullshit! Move closer!"

"I can't!"

"You can!"

"I don't think they're ever going to make it," Jenni says," It's like they can't-"

"Stop! Ale, stop! Left a bit. No! Too left. Right again. Left! Right! Left!"

"Left, right, forward, back," Alexia mutters," Make up your mind."

"Left and...got it...Wait! Don't let go!"

You haul yourself from your sister's shoulders onto the centre ring, positioning yourself perched on the sliver of the yellow ring that enters the black one.

"Alright," Alexia says," Give me a hand."

"What? No! You'll pull me off!"

"Give me your hand!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She braces herself on the lower rings and grabs your hand, pulling herself into the centre ring before you can even shove her off.

"Oh," She says," That was pretty easy." Alexia grins at you but the smile drops from her face when she notices the pensive look you're wearing. "What is it?"

"I've just realised," You laugh in disbelief," When Mama said she wanted a picture of us and the rings. I think she meant in front of them. Not in them."

"Oh."

[killsaki]

backdoor cover. — tomura isn’t into betting too much, but he doesn’t mind winning.

no quirks!college!tomura shigaraki x f!reader

4.6k words | read on ao3 | minors dni.

CW / TW : DARK CONTENT! dubcon, drugging, mean!tomura, slight misogyny, victim blaming, really shitty college guys, you get slightly stepped on, fingering, creampie, planned noncon.

moving from your hometown is nerve racking no matter how old you are.

though, it is a bit easier in college than it would've been in middle school where you would have to stress about making new friends or impressing the cool kids. now, it’s mostly just the annoyance of having to figure things out like where all your classes are, and how the hell you’re going to find entertainment to keep you sane during the semester when you’re hundreds of miles from anything that you know.

but, lucky for you, the campus you’ve transferred to is the same campus as the oh so friendly, keigo takami.

the man was the definition of a social butterfly. he’d approached you the first day you were able to find your way to buy lunch on campus, learning your name and memorizing it to greet you every time the two of you crossed paths. then it advanced to him starting to make small talk when the two of you were standing in the same vicinity for longer than a minute. one day those short conversations turned into him walking you back to your car after classes and inviting you to parties his friends—or possibly other random people he’d interacted with on campus—would throw.

and at one of those parties, somehow, you became friends with touya. though, the entirety of the first conversation the two of you had was just you both tossing light insults at each other. at some point the two of you, like you had with the blonde, become friendlier. there’s still as many jabs at each other, but hanging out is never too bad.

keigo and touya both have introduced you to so many people, all of which have turned out to be just as fun and just as entertaining to talk to as they have been. you’ve felt nothing less than welcomed by all of their peers.

that is until you went back to their shared apartment one day and met their roommate. it wasn’t terribly awkward at first, he was slumped over on the couch whenever you came in for the first time. his eyes fixated on the television screen, fingers moving away on the game system controller held in his hands. you had greeted him, and he grunted back, not caring to offer a glance your way let alone a word.

you had sat at the bar by the kitchen while touya did whatever it was that he needed to do, your feet swung off the tall seat as you scrolled through your phone, having a pointless conversation with the dark haired man. only after you heard the noises from the tv halt did you hear the couch squeak as shigaraki pushed himself off of it and made his way into the same room. you watched as he slid past touya, trying his hardest not to actually touch him while doing so, and reached into the fridge for whatever offbrand green soda he decided to pull out. and you took note of how much smaller he seems than the other man—and also about how cold he looks, both metaphorically and physically.

“what?” he’d spoke for the first time, then standing in front of you as he looked at you with complete irritance written on his face.

“nothing.” you quickly responded, blinking as his eyes burned into yours.

“you know—” touya starts, waving his hand towards you with his back turned.

“from the bet with birdbrain?” tomura’s eyes still bore into yours as he spoke.

“you suck,” the man behind you was interrupted by the other as he obnoxiously slurped his drink and nodded almost sarcastically and turned back to find his seat once again. “but, yeah.”

you had a conversation as soon as you two left the apartment what was being betted on and what it had to do with you. though, touya probably wasn’t the right one to have that conversation with, he did nothing to ease the odd feeling that sat in your stomach from the way that shigaraki stared at you like you had offended him just by being there.

keigo, on the other hand, assured you that the guy just had issues with social cues and what not. he didn’t leave the apartment much and that it had nothing to do with you. though.. now that you think about it, he didn’t bother to explain what the bet was.

“keigo,” you look up from your laptop’s screen to where he’s sitting on his couch, eyes falling to his spread legs for a moment before catching the shine off the gold chain adored around his neck. “why do you never have clothes on when i come over?”

he tears his eyes from his own screen and blinks at you for a second before looking down at his outfit. one that he seems to be constantly wearing whenever you tell him you’re swinging by to hang out.

“these are pajamas, dove.” he raises his eyebrows at you.

“but i got here at noon?” you squint your eyes at him, only to roll them when he laughs.

“it’s also saturday.” he goes back to typing away on his laptop, and you almost do the same until you remember the reason you actually called his name in the first place.

“why does,” you pause, looking towards the hallway that leads to all of the men’s rooms and lower your voice before finishing your sentence. “what did you and touya bet on?”

you can see how his whole body stops for a moment, his fingers resting on the keys, smiling with his eyebrows drawn together.

“lots of things, which are you talking about?” he asks dumbly, as if this is the first time you’ve brought this up.

“when i first came over here, and i met your roommate, he said something about a bet between you two.”

“when was that again?” his head falls back against the cushions, fingers patting a beat on the poor metal of his laptop.

“last month.” you indulge him with pointless detail.

“i’m not sure why he would say that.” he shrugs.

“no clue?” you feel annoyance start to grow in your chest, it’s not like keigo to be clueless about anything. ever.

“none.” he still doesn’t bother to look at you.

“you’re lying.” 

“i’d never lie.” the pat on his keyboard stops as a door opens behind him.

“you’re doing it right now.” you mutter, nudging his knee with your foot in an attempt to keep him talking.

“where the hell are your clothes?” he snaps his head once he catches a glance of his roommate who is only dressed in a pair of tight boxers.

“i pay rent here, i don’t have to wear clothes.” touya yawns back, ringed fingers dragging down his face.

“sure, if you’re fine with the guest seeing you nearly naked.” you can see keigo smiling even with his head turned as touya looks back to see who he was talking about, which, of course, is you. and you’re trying your hardest not to look at him as well, forcing your eyes to stay on keigo or even on your laptop screen but the ink that seems to wrap all the way around his torso catches your curiosity.

“you can look,” he speaks with his eyes locked on you, waiting for you to make eye contact before continuing. “let me know if you want a different angle.”

you scoff, lobbing the pencil you had nearby at him and successfully hitting his back. which results in insults being thrown at you, ones which you playfully retort to. and suddenly the tension from your thoughts before is gone. your mind back at ease when you just relax into the friendship that you have with these two for hours while the three of you eat and watch movies—only after touya successfully pulls the two of you along into his procrastinating crusade.

and you don’t even think about tomura again.

until he comes out of his room.

it’s much later into the evening, the sun has already fallen and you’re about to get ready to leave when he makes his appearance. white hair falls around his face to where you’re almost unable to see his eyes, but you do, and you catch the way he side-eyes down at you the second you come into his view.

he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way into the kitchen and grabs himself a bowl of something, or when he sits at the bar to eat his food. only when he’s on his way back does he slurp obnoxiously on his drink and hover behind where both touya and keigo are sat and asks,

“who won?” you don’t bother to look up from the tv, knowing he wasn’t speaking to you. but neither of them say anything. “so, you’re both still losers.” again, silence. besides another slurp. “whatever.”

he heads back to his room, door shutting behind him to confirm he wasn’t coming back.

“he heard the game?” you ask, not looking away from the screen. you made sure to have them turn the tv down whenever you all got on shigaraki’s console, the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to dislike you. but you know in your gut that it wasn’t what he was referring to.

“probably.” touya shrugs.

“no tellin’.” keigo adds on.

“right.” you nod, tension in the air thickening just as before. “i’m gonna go.”

they both snap their eyes your way, watching as you pack your things from the homework session you were supposed to be having with keigo.

“you leaving already?” keigo sits forward, a bewildered look on his face. “you didn’t even finish your drink.”

“you’re gonna owe me for wasting my soda,” touya pipes back in. “might as well just stay and finish it.”

you just force a laugh, pulling the doors handle without another word. you drive home the same way, in silence. and once you get back to your apartment, you ignore all their notifications, including neglecting to send your nightly goodnight snapchats to them both. but even as the night drags on and the hours go by, you can’t force yourself to sleep. there’s a weird, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, one that keeps you from being able to get comfortable.

you know that they’re not bad people, that they’ve been great friends to you over the past few months and you can trust them. yet, even reminding yourself of that, you can’t get the weight off of your chest. so, you grab your keys and head back to their apartment hoping keigo will put you at ease like he always—usually does.

“they’re not here.” tomura blinks down at you, hair messy as ever as it frames his face that holds his permanently bored expression that does nothing to help the ever growing pit in the bottom of your stomach.

“where’d they go?” you ask quietly, half expecting him to shut the door in your face.

he only shrugs, turning and leaving the door open as he starts to walk away. you feel your body fall cold, thoughts eating at you without anything to slow them down. you can’t even remember what it is you’re so worried about, why you even feel this way.

“you’re letting the heat out.” you hear him mumble, as he starts to gather his things from the living room into his arms loudly. “i don't care what you do, just shut the door.” his shoulders roll back when he stands fully again and heads to his room. he’s so much taller when he actually stands up right.

you decided to wait inside, maybe you could catch keigo when he comes back. or even touya and—it’s two am. you step inside and shut the door behind you, falling to the couch once you reach it. maybe watching tv will help pass the time, oh and your soda is still on the table, perfect. now you don’t have to ask tomura for anything.

“why are you here?” he sighs, passing behind you, as if he was forced to ask.

“i just wanted to talk to them.” you light up your phone screen, debating on just calling them to see where they are.

“they had a bet.” you can see him trying to crack his neck from where he stands at the side of the couch. “if that’s what you came to talk about.”

“what?”

“you always ask them questions that they don’t answer, and you see how they get quiet whenever i ask them who won. before whats-his-name started talking to you they had a bet.” he talks down at you like it’s the most obvious thing, like you should’ve known this already.

you can feel your hands bunch up the material of your pants as they curl into fists on their own.

“it was who could fuck you first.”

and you think you can hear your heart as it falls out of your chest, toppling down your body and the couch as it clunks to the ground.

“that’s the only reason they started talking to you.”

he sighs, plopping himself down on the other side of the sofa, just far enough away from you that the two of you wouldn’t be touching.

“they probably actually like you now.”

 like that was supposed to bring you any comfort.

“why don’t you like me?” you say it before you can even process the painful information he’s already given you, before you even really think about it. though, you don’t have any anxiety about his answer. he’s already told you the worst thing possible about the two people you’d become closest with and you know he doesn’t like you. nothing he can say will make the way you feel any worse.

“huh?” he looks over at you with an eyebrow raised, but lips tilted in annoyance.

then you remember tomura is brutal with his words and truly doesn’t care about other people's feelings. maybe he’ll tear into you just to get you to leave.

“you always glare at me, you ignored me when i’ve tried to speak to you, you-”

“god, shut up.” he lays his head back against the cushion of the couch, spreading his legs so that his knee leans against yours. “i don’t like you because you’re stupid.” he’s as blunt as you expected him to be, but it doesn’t feel like theres any malice behind his words.

“i don’t think i’m stupid.” you say out loud, but mostly to yourself, you know tomura doesn’t care what you think. you stare at the watered down drink in your hand, mouth gone dry from the horrible feeling in your gut, you bring it up to your lips and drink as much as you can before you need to breathe.

“that’s why you are stupid.” he rolls his neck to look at you, head still laying on the couch. white hair caked to his face, red eyes staring at you without that usual grimace for what feels like the first time. “you think you’re too smart to be fooled, that’s why they were able to get to you so easily.”

“but i didn’t fall for anything because i never did anything with them.” you reason, taking another gulp from your drink and he just blinks back at you.

“you’re still in their hands.” he yawns, shifting his hips. “even if they do like you, what’s stopping them from using you as a quick fuck one night?”

you can’t think of an answer. it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have sex with one of them, but really you always thought one of them would ask you to be their girlfriend if anything was to happen between you and whichever. the couch squeaks when he moves his hips again, readjusting once more.

“why would you tell me about all this if you’re their friend?”

“to get you out of my apartment.”

the feeling clouding your entire body couldn’t possibly get any worse, but the thought that he might’ve been telling you cause he cared, even if it was the tiniest bit- that might’ve helped. maybe you shouldn’t have even asked.

“right.” you nod, pursing your lips. “i’ll leave then, thanks.”

the second you stand up, the light from the hallway shines onto tomura’s lap. how the fuck did you miss that he had a hard on this entire time.

“oh.” you say before you have a chance to stop yourself. “sorry- i’m sorry.” you cover your mouth heading for the door, but after a few steps you start to feel dizzy, ultimately collapsing to the floor when your knees go weak. you hear something that sounds like ‘what the fuck’ come from behind you but it sounds muffled. you heart racing makes the sound of your blood pumping far too loud to hear anything else. but then, he’s crouched in front of you looking even more displeased than when he’d first opened the door. he doesn’t even say anything, just sneers at you.

“what was in that drink?” you grasp his shirt, hold shaking as your hand trembles. you feel the warm pit in your stomach from earlier increase by tenfold. it brings heat to your cheeks when you realize there's a puddle starting to form in your underwear, that your cheeks are burning and the feeling overtaking you is want. 

“oh, you really are fucking stupid.” he sighs, looking over to your nearly empty glass and chuckling in disbelief. always so cruel. “maybe they don’t actually like you.”

“tomura..” you can feel the tears prick at your eyes as the heat boiling under your skin starts to spread. “what do i do?”

he sighs again, because you being here is such an inconvenience, the thought of him having to help you is a complete detriment to his night.

“leave, call the police on them for drugging you, go to the hospital, fuck if i care.” he stands back up, groaning as he stretches and you moan from the sound alone. it makes the heat in your cheeks flare with embarrassment and you feel like you may pass out from it all. his feet shift in front of you, and all you can do is curl in on yourself, clutching to your clothes and press your thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache building between them. the pain that in an instant reaches from the top of your head down to the soles of your feet, making even them blister and throb.

“you’re so pathetic.” he mumbles, nudging your shoulder up with his socked foot. “you’re just gonna sit there and hump my floor?”

you let the tears fall, stop holding in the sobs you’ve been trying to keep silent. you want to think about how wrong you were, how you truly thought you could trust keigo, touya even. but tomura was right, all along he was warning you without even talking to you. you want to cry and to curse them but you can’t, your mind is clouded over with lust and it’s taking everything in you not to stick your hand in your pants right there like some kind of deviant.

“say it and i’ll help you.” he pushes up harder with his foot, forcing you to sit upright, to look at him. the light from the kitchen illuminates behind him, and from here he looks the same as every single murderer in every scary movie you’ve ever seen. as much as you want to feel even the smallest bit of creeped out, embarrassed, or even to reject his shitty offer. you can’t, your body won’t let you be rational. it fights against everything you know is right.

“s-say what?” you try to steady your breathing, hiccuping as tears still stream down your face.

“that you’re pathetic, stupid, i’m not picky.” he shrugs, rubbing one of his eyes as he looks down at you expectantly.

“i’m.. pathetic.” you say it, admit it easily, because even now with a half empty mind you know it's true.

without word, the same foot that pushed you up, presses against the side of the same shoulder forcing your body to the floor. you allow it, not complaining even when the flat of his foot lands between your shoulder blades to press your chest down. he props your hips up and works your bottoms down without speaking, which is probably for the best. there’s no way anything he could say would make you feel better about this situation or the fact that he’s the one ‘helping’ you through it.

it seems to worsen the second that your sex is exposed to the air, your whole body rushing with what feels like molten lava in your viens.

you push against his touch the second it slides along your slit, moaning loudly into the plush of the carpet. it earns you a slap with the back of his hand against your skin but it only plays further into your pleasure, which makes him huff behind you. the need for something more—anything more overwhelms you and you start to beg mindlessly, truly, because you don’t know what the fuck is falling from your tongue, only that your mouth is infact moving.

“shut up.” shigaraki grunts from behind you. “so fucking annoying.” he’d probably been trying to prep you, to give you some kind of mercy, but then again he could’ve just been attempting to tease you. either way, he cuts it short, shifting behind you and pushing the tip of him against your already fluttering entrance. his free hand comes down to where his foot had been, pressing flat between your shoulder blades to keep you in place.

he gives you no grace as to ease it in. your hands claw at the carpet as he shoves all that he can in with one thrust, nails digging into your skin come with the sharp breath the both of you let out. you’re nothing more than a body, than the euphoria you feel with each push of his hips to force his cock fully in, than the sound that slips from your mouth beneath him. you can tell with each movement tomura is doing this for himself and couldn’t care less about how you feel, doesn’t even think about how thick he is. doesn’t care if the stretch from him burns, if it makes you cry or hurt—and if he does, it’s because that’s what he wants.

but that thought alone makes you clamp around him, forcing a small sound from his chest. you can feel your slick along the insides of your thighs when he finally presses his hips fully against your ass, you know it has to be dripping down the base of him to his balls. you’ll blame it on the foggy state of your consciousness but it makes your mouth water, the thought of him using you for his own pleasure. the smallest hint of him being attracted to you well enough to get off to you despite him being so indifferent about you before. it makes you hungry in a way that probably can’t be blamed on whatever drug your so-called-friends slipped into your drink.

you pull your hips away from his before pushing back once again, drawing another sound out of you both. the hand digging into your spine drags its nails to your hips, the other finding its way there to grip you at both sides as you fuck yourself back onto him. with each push you feel his hips cant forwards the tiniest bit to meet yours, and it sends pride throughout you. not to mention the feeling of him easing the all consuming ache with each stretch of him that he allows you.

his hands move from their position to grip at your ass, crescent claws digging into the soft there as he spreads your cheeks and takes control of your pace. it’s as rough as you’d expect from him, you’re sure you’re going to be bleeding with the way he forces your movements with his hold on you. you scramble to hold onto the carpet when he moves slightly, no doubt accidentally, and the tip of him prods against that spot inside you that has you losing your mind.

“oh god, fuck-fuck-” slips out, you’re actually able to catch that one.

“shut the fuck up.” he replies, voice strained. and suddenly you can hear the panting, it’s loud and fills the room right alongside the sound of his balls smacking against your skin. he feels good, it’s so obvious when he speaks.

“feels s’good,” you slur out again when he adds even more speed to his thrusts. “s’good, thank you, thank you.”

“shut up, shut up.” his voice comes out as a moan this time. one of his hands comes down just above your ass, pushing your hips flat to the floor and he moves his knees on either side of your thighs.

“s’close, please-” is all you’re able to get out before his palm is over your lips.

“just fuckin’ take it and shut up.” he hisses in your ear as his body lays over your own. you can feel him panting now, against the juncture of your neck. “they’re so fuckin’ dumb.” he mumbles, groaning when his movements become sporadic, clearly nearing the edge as you start to clamp down on him.

a few more pushes against your soft, warm, sticky walls, and you can’t keep the blurry coffee table in your sight. your eyes roll back as hot static forces its way through your veins and up your spine. the twitch of his cock inside of you only adding to it, the spill of his seed on the other hand seems to pull you out of it and only the small sounds of his whimper keep you in place. it was something beyond the bliss of an orgasm to hear such a stiff man moaning for you.

it’s soft then, his cock as he pulls it out, and his movements. he tucks himself back in his pants without bothering to clean himself, but for you, he strips away your bottoms before helping you up and to the door to his room. you want to finally be rational now that you have the means. you want to go home and wash tonight off of you. to leave and never come near tomura’s roommates ever again. but when he tosses you down on his bed and comes back from the bathroom that you had no clue that he had in his room, to give you the rag to clean yourself, you decided against it. maybe, you should just sleep.

you pass out the second he gestures you to actually lay down, the look of annoyance back on his face when he does so. and you’re fast asleep by the time there’s a jingle of keys at the door, neither of them speak as they come in to find their roommate on the couch, fingers fiddling away at the console controller. though if you were there to look at them, you would see how keigo’s eyes instantly darted over to your empty drink. and how touya’s mouth immediately twists up in annoyance.

“she wasn’t at her place.” touya says, falling down beside his friend. “thought you said the pills that guy had would’ve had her like putty.”

“bad info.” he shrugs, shooting the last kill on his game before looking over at the blonde still standing. “got somethin’ to say?”

“what happened to the drink?” keigo asks, but the crack in tomura’s door is more than enough to see the figure laying in the bed.

“oh, right,” shigaraki takes his focus back to the tv and uses one hand to switch screens, holding the other out, palm up. “i won.”

repost from my old blog <3

[dailymanners]

I feel as though in the past few years it's becoming more common for me to be interrupted while I'm speaking, and I can't help but wonder if more people are losing a sense of conversational rhythm due to communicating more and more digitally and less and less in person.

When you communicate digitally you don't have to worry about finding the natural rhythm of the conversation, you're not taking away someone else's ability to finish their thought or make their point if you send a message to them while they're still typing. I'm not here to scare monger about the kids and their phones, but it's important that you don't let your skill of finding a conversational rhythm, if you have that skill, atrophy, lest you speak over someone and take away their ability to complete their thought and make their point.

But I also realize that it's really important to specify what I mean by interrupting someone.

When someone says that interrupting is really normal and not considered rude in their community or culture, what they're actually talking about is what's known in linguistics as "cooperative overlap", that or simultaneous talking. Here's an example of cooperative overlap and/or simultaneous talking that you might see in a culture where this is normal and acceptable:

Person A: So guess where I went today? I went to the -

Person B: Oh let me take a wild guess! You went to the shoe store again didn't you?

Person A: That's right, and I got a -

Person C: Oh come on, don't tell you got another pair!

Person A: You know it baby!

Now let's compare that to a different style of interruption, what I like to call "steamrolling"

Person A: So guess where I went today? I went to the -

Person B: UGH did you guys catch the game last night?

Person C: Yeah the refs sucked!

Now, what differences can you see between the first example, aka "cooperative overlapping" vs the second "steamrolling" example?

For one, in the first example Person A is still allowed to make their point, tell their story, and finish their thought. They're not being silenced or completely derailed, and most importantly their conversation partners still seem interested and engaged in what they have to say. In the second example, Person A is being completely derailed and stripped of their chance to finish their thought and make their point, which is unfair to Person A, which is what makes "steamrolling" disrespectful even in many cultures and communities where "cooperative overlapping" would be acceptable.

Now, conversational overlap isn't for everyone, and that's okay, but it makes it awkward and tricky when someone from a community or culture that uses conversational overlap talks to someone who is from a culture that doesn't. For example:

Person A: So the other day I went to -

Person B: Oh my god did you go to that one store?

Person A: Um, no, I went to the movies, and I saw -

Person B: OH did you see that new creepy movie about the aliens?

Person A: No, can I please just finish my story?

Person B: Oh, uh, sorry

Neither person will probably feel great after this conversation. And I'm not here to condemn either conversational styles. I understand why some people see cooperative overlap as a more engaging and exciting conversational style, but I also understand why some people find it frustrating. My mother's family has a cultural background big on conversational overlap, but my father's side of the family ehhh not so much, so I personally grew up seeing these two conversational styles clash a lot.

If you're person A in the above conversation who doesn't like conversational overlap, that's totally fine, I'm personally not a big fan of it either only because I have a terrible memory, so when someone disrupts my flow I usually end up completely forgetting what I want to say. Just try to recognize the difference between cooperative overlap vs steamrolling. If someone is just trying to cooperatively overlap with you, patiently and politely tell them something along the lines of "sorry I have a terrible memory so if I don't finish I'll forget what I'm trying to say". But it's generally a good idea to be more patient and understanding with conversational overlap than steamrolling.

If you're someone who cooperatively overlaps and you encounter someone who isn't a fan of it, try not to take it personally, maybe like me they have a horrible memory and will forget what they're trying to say if they get side tracked.

But what I meant earlier about conversational rhythm is that too often a lot of interrupting comes from not realizing the other person wasn't finished speaking.

For example, personal A wants to say "so the other day I went hiking, and I saw a fox" some people might not recognize when person A is actually finished speaking, typically they assume as soon as they've heard a complete clause that means the thought is finished, so the conversation goes like

Person A: So the other day I went hiking -

Person B: OH I went hiking a few weeks ago with my girlfriend but it was so slippery out!

Person C: Oh how is your girlfriend doing by the way?

Person B: She's doing great! How's your partner doing?

Do you see how this style of interruption, unlike cooperative overlap, also derails Person A and deprives Person A of a chance to finish what they want to say? It's not quite steamrolling, and often just comes from a lack of rhythm or understanding. As a general rule, if you want to avoid interrupting someone, pause for a few seconds after you think they're finished in case they aren't actually finished. This way you avoid accidentally depriving someone of the chance to finish what they want to say and completing their thought.

We should never be too eager to assume someone has finished making their point because you never know what someone might actually be trying to say, and if you cut someone off before they make their point you can miss important context. For example:

Person A: I don't think I see stray cats here -

Person B: AHA BULL FUCKING SHIT! I totally saw a stray cat the other day!

Person A: I was going to say as much as in other places if you had let me finish?

Or:

Person A: I hate when it's hot out. When I was a kid it was usually around 25 or 30 degrees Celsius in the summers -

Person B: OH come one don't be such a wimpy little baby! 25-30 degrees isn't even that warm! I've totally seen WAY hotter summers than that!

Person A: Uh, that's what I was going to say if you'd let me finish, the summers were pretty mild when I was a kid, but they're a lot hotter now . .

Do you see how in both conversations Person B was too eager to assume Person A had finished making their point and ended up missing important context? If person B had only paused and waited for Person A to finish making their point, they wouldn't have ended up making an ass of themselves to put it frankly. This style of interruption can make you come across as eager to dominate and "one up" other people, which frankly a lot of people find obnoxious and exhausting. This is different than cooperative overlapping because it comes from a place of wanting to correct or one-up your conversation partner, rather than play and/or build into what they're saying, which is why I'd argue it's closer to steamrolling.

Good conversational rhythm ideally means everyone is allowed to finish their thought and make their point, whether or not that includes overlapping or even simultaneous talking. If you're not sure someone has finished their thought, pause a few seconds to make sure they've had the chance to complete their thought, less you miss important context. OR, if you do interject, it should be about building/playing into what they're saying rather than derailing/steamrolling them.

What's important to keep in mind is that it's often a matter of power and respect when someone is or isn't allowed to finish their thought and make their point. If someone is unable to finish their thought or make their point before getting steamrolled, they're going to feel like their input to the conversation isn't valued or important, and that's never a good feeling.

[leidensygdom]

The ways in which being asexual feels isolating

I've been pondering whether to post this or not, but I figured out I wanted to explain a bit of this experience.

So, I could go on a very long tangent on how being asexual is usually a lonely experience, and how much I've been otherized here and there- Specially in real life. How the same people that claimed to be queer (or allies) had been much weirder about my asexuality than they were about me being bi/pan or whatever.

But I think I wanna talk about how something like that bleeds in every aspect of socializing, even down to something like fandom. I stay away from fandom usually- I like to look at cool fanart and that's about it. I hate discourse, I hate drama, I hate reading people getting worked up because they're treating fanon as canon. But there's one thing I've noticed, over and over, that just sends me off my rails.

And it's how fandom tends to treat asexuality (or aromanticism). So, you get a character in some piece of media that explicitly, unequivocally, states they're either ace, aro, or both. "I do not have interest in a partner", "I don't desire to have sex nor do I enjoy the topic", whatever. And as an ace person, I do appreciate being able to see myself in media- There isn't many chases where something is established that bluntly.

Now, you decide you want to check some fanart for that. Fandoms have this tendency to make absolutely everything about shipping, even when the media they're basing it in does not revolve about that (and it's annoying, because a lot of times people aren't interested in the actual themes- It's all reduced to shipping). Suddenly, you notice people treating the aforementioned character as anything but aro or ace. It's all about shipping. "This person interacted with this other person in a way two friends would, but we gotta make this their entire personality now". Some people may instead go for "well, maybe the character is not having sex, but they're probably an absolute freak about it, studies it extensively, has encyclopedic knowledge about it-"

Now, there's of course sex-favourable aces, and that's completely valid, but it's already straying from what, canonically, the character had mentioned. Asexual or aromantic characters aren't really allowed to exist as themselves. People often see them as a blank slate to fill, to change, to fix. I could talk forever about how people react to real life aces like that. I've had people asking me incredibly invasive questions because they saw my lack of sexual attraction as something broken, something they could fix.

And I hate that! I think I'm allowed to say that I hate that! It's hard and unusual for media to cement an aro/ace character, because they're defined by the lack of interest for something, which is often hard to show. But when it does- No one seems to care. It's all shipping, it's all "well, he's gay in denial", "well, she's probably super repressed". If you took a canonically gay character and made them straight on a fanfic, you'd get angry people. Which is bound to happen when you erase representation that people identify with. But aro/ace characters are NOT even seen as queer, they're not even seen as "representation" by most people. You can erase that bit of it, put some god awful shipping on top, and people will applaud you. And it sucks!

I wish people would see being aro or ace as an identity worth respecting, not an identity that needs overwriting. It feels a bit too close to how people often treat aro/aces irl, and it sucks. It reeks of this sort of exclusionism, where "aro/aces are technically queer but it's queer lite at best, it's less interesting than being gay, and we kinda don't want them near us anyhow". Again, I've had far worse experiences about being ace than I have about not being straight.

Sorry if the post got long, but I hope this experience may at least resonate with other people who have been struggling with this, too. It has always felt just kind of lonely to be ace, and see how little people do even consider it an identity, even when it comes down to something like fandom.

[imamuzansimp-oldblog-seoseoya]

types of kisses the uppermoons would prefer from this list

cw: kissing, fluff, morning kisses, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, lip kisses, pda, pinning against wall, jealousy (if u squint), lap, slight suggestive (mostly in muzan and dōma’s part), slight ooc (especially for muzan but it’s my hc muzan in private that we should all be well acquainted with), simpery bc have you met me, manga spoilers for dōma

a/n: this has sat in my apple notes app for wayyyyyyyy too long now

the list (creds to a tumblr i forgot the name of i saved this a long time ago):

Kibitsuji Muzan

5, 1, 4, 7, 10, 13

5 (in secret kiss): this is muzan we’re talking about. no way is he showing you his affection in public. i know i have my whole ‘softie in private™️’ muzan thing (really have to think of a better name), but key word: private. the day he shows affection in public is the day i stop liking kpop (jk i’ll never stop).

1 (good morning kiss): since muzan is a softie in private™️, he will gladly shower you with good morning kisses as soon as he wakes up. if you are asleep it does not matter, he’s waking you up.

4 (kiss on the neck): he’s a demon, who i believe has a side of him that’s very flirty and spicy. if you’re a human and you give consent, he’s kissing, biting, licking your neck and feeding off the blood from there. if you’re a demon, he’s still going to kiss, bite, lick, and suck your neck. he is not picky

7 (against a wall kiss): muzan + secretly very into steamy stuff + very dominant = muzan who loves a place where he can cage you in and watch you get flustered 

10 (jealous kiss): as an extraordinarily possessive person, muzan would get jealous A LOT. which leads to a lot of jealous kisses.

13 (lap kiss): especially when he’s jealous or horny. let’s be honest we all know he’d do this if you were an actual object of his affection.

Kokushibo

3, 5, 7, 8

3 (kiss on the nose): let’s be honest, besides lip kisses, this is the only place on his face that you can kiss. his forehead is almost nonexistent and his cheeks are just eyes, unless you’d like to kiss those.

5 (in secret kiss): i feel like since kokushibo is so loyal to muzan, he wouldn’t want to kiss you in public since he’d either be in front of muzan or in the human world. besides, he’s more introverted and a demon so i don’t think he’s big on kisses in public for your reputation especially

7 (against a wall kiss): i don’t even know why, i just feel like he’d like to flex his height on you if you’re shorter than him (which is likely, he’s 190 cm/6’3”). since he’s so tall, why not flex the height while making it intimate?

8 (top of head kisses): again, on his head there are only so many places to kiss since you miss two facial features. he’d like kissing your head, but since he’s likely so much taller it makes him feel secret butterflies when you manage to kiss his head

Dōma (istg i hate this man yall dōma simps better be glad im writing for him)

i’m tempted to include everything but i’ll just put: 4, 7, 10, 12, 13

4 (kiss on the neck): this guy is the most thirsty demon (second only to karaku obvi) and we all know it. he’d probably get grumpy if he couldn’t kiss ur neck at least 10 times a day (separately. the 20 something neck kisses he gave when you woke up only count as one).

7 (against a wall kiss): dōma is……… well it’s dōma, the same guy who says akaza might get stronger if he eats women, the same guy who wanted to make inosuke’s mother his wife, the same guy who forms a crush on the people he kills. using that logic he will gladly pin you up against the wall and kiss you until you’re essentially a tomato. he will not stop even then, he won’t stop unless a

pressing matter appears (aka nothing).

10 (jealous kiss): he gets jealous easily, so why not kiss you out of jealousy too?

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): using the same logic as 7, he loves showing you off, unlike the previous two demons. he will “accidentally” leave the door wide open when he pins you on the bed and kisses the breath out of your lungs (a common occurrence) and sucks a lot of the blood right out of your veins (another common occurrence. did you ask/want/let him? i don’t know, but i doubt it. sorry)

13 (lap kiss): do i need to explain more? 

no. 

will i? 

yes.

this man… chances are he’s not keeping it in his pants for that one.

Akaza (ITS THE BASKETBALL! *said with love*)

2, 8, 9, 13

2 (forehead kiss): since he actually has one (looking at you koku), he’s kissing yours and you’re kissing his. that’s how it’s going to work and chances are he’s going to be a blushing mess because he is weak to even a woman’s glance *watches him sip respect women juice*

8 (top of head kisses): idek why i just feel like he’d enjoy them.

9 (shy kiss): he’s shy boi with women. we all know this. when you two are in private and he’s not busy punching dōma’s face off (i love it when he does), he is with you. with you while somehow being shy even though ur dating

13 (lap kiss): he’s a respectful demon, so he’s not going to drink your blood, but he is going to act like it with the way he’s kissing your neck roughly

Sekido

4, 6, 7, 10

4 (kiss on the neck): let’s be honest, his name means accumulated anger and he quite literally has anger written on his tongue, he’s being rough with his kissing and trying (and failing) to let off some steam. absolutely the roughest out of every uppermoon, if you thought muzan and dōma were biting a lot get ready to meet this guy. he will not stop until your neck is quite literally all red. props to you for not passing out, although you probably already did

6 (public kiss): he is angry in public, and he will kiss you to try and calm down (not like it works)

7 (against a wall kiss): probably pushes you a bit too hard since he doesn’t know his own strength.

10 (jealous kiss): i don’t think i need to explain, just look at 6

Karaku

4, 7, 12, 13

4 (kiss on the neck): ……… if it’s not obvious i’m sorry for you. the kanji on his tongue is literally pleasure

7 (against a wall kiss): again, i don’t need to explain

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): like with dōma, the kiss is only “accidentally” witnessed. he totally didn’t leave the door wide open as he pinned you up against the wall

13 (lap kiss): ………………………….. YES

Aizetsu

5, 8, 9, 12

5 (in secret kiss): shyer than akaza 🥹! (he’s so precious im sry) every single time he kisses you it’s a shy kiss.

8 (top of head kisses): chances are he’s taller, so he kisses your head when he feels lonely. most of the time you’ll also be cuddling in bed

9 (shy kiss): just read 5

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): unlike dōma and karaku, it is a genuine accident. he didn’t mean to leave the door open when he wanted to cuddle with you and shower you with kisses, he just did

Urogi

1, 6, 7

1 (good morning kiss): loves these. more specifically, loves receiving these. he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, but when he does wind up falling asleep, it’s next to you. you’ll usually wake up before him and wake him up with the good morning kisses he adores so much

6 (public kiss): his name means sky joy and ur telling me he wouldn’t get so happy he starts making out with you in public? he also just likes lowkey showing you off

7 (against a wall kiss): signature move: gets so happy he pins you against a wall and makes out with you

Gyutaro

2, 3, 4, 11

2 (forehead kiss), 3 (kiss on the nose), 4 (kiss on the neck): please give this poor man some love. he grew up only living for his sister and everyone else turning up their nose at him. forehead, nose, cheek, neck, everything kisses are a must

11 (first kiss): your first kiss with him was magical, whether it was also your first kiss is up to you, but it was definitely his and he relished in every moment of it.

[sky-scribbles]

There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.  

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria.  And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

 The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Short #1

There's something happening between you two.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues

Length: 1.6k words

A/N: I will force feed you this AU and you will like it 👿

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Despite Jungkook having agreed to help you, he still continues to work on that choreography the same way as before, ruthlessly pushing you further and further despite your very much constant complains.  

Apparently, according to him, it’s not about the whole contest anymore. But instead, to teach you ‘something’. What it is, he won’t say- but you’re sure that’s all just an excuse anyways to torture you.  

But you’re not going down so easily.  

“How many times do I need to tell you that you have your own snacks?!” Jungkook complains, showing the empty bag of crackers to you, at the sight of which you simply sit in the middle of the practice room, tail happily wagging as if you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “And I’m sure you drank my water too.” He accuses, and you just shrug.  

“Maybe.” You answer. “The crackers sucked though. Way too bland. Do you always just eat old people snacks?” You question, irritating him further. It’s clear that you’re testing your boundaries with him, and most of all his patience- because lets be real, its funny as hell to make him angry. Mostly because you know he’d never actually get too upset with you- if he was to ever do so, you’re sure he’d give you a fair warning way before that line has actually been stepped over.  

Though, clearly, you’ve not really realized yet that you two have actually become closer up until this point- and that also means that Jungkook no longer tries to stay as far away as he can from you.  

So when he returns to the practice room with new snacks of his own and a bottle of sweet electrolyte juice, you’re already up on your feet, happily looking what he’s got himself- before he suddenly takes off his hoodie, catching you entirely off guard and freezing you in place for a good second, because wow. 

He’s got an extensive collection of art beneath the skin of one of his arms up to his hand even, and his physique is definitely also not to be played around with. Years of serious dancing and working out have clearly created the man he is today-  

And suddenly, your world is dark for a good second, as he pushes his hoodie over your head.  

You’re confused, when he suddenly pulls on the sleeves your arms are not yet pulled through, as he instead ties them behind your back, successfully immobilizing you. He picks you up and sits you in one of the chairs after he's done, leaning in close once you're seated, summoning the audacity to smirk at you.  

“Timeout, you gremlin.” He tells you, before he sits down next to you to eat his food, all while you can’t do anything but watch, wide eyed and completely confused.  

And instead of arguing, you just pull in your legs after toeing off your shoes, pouting to yourself while enjoying his scent. You’d never openly admit it, but he does smell nice- both the laundry detergent he uses for his clothes, and, well, his own scent. You blame it on the fact that throughout your career until now, you’ve barely had any close interaction with another male hybrid like this- so it’s probably just the fact that you’re not used to this.  

“Take it off.” You demand, and he shakes his head.  

“Nop.” He denies, and you swing your legs on the chair as you’ve let them fall down again.  

“I need to go pee.” You tell him, and at that he sighs, before he unravels the sleeves- 

Just for you to slip your hands through them, and steal his bottle of juice as you run into the hallway, hearing his footsteps loudly right behind you, hand having slapped against the door you’d tried to swing close behind you. You don’t get very far when he suddenly grabs the back of the sweater, pulling you closer again to try and lift you. “No- No no, I really need to go pee!” You deny, standing in front of him now after having avoided his grip.  

“Alright, let’s go then.” He says, grabbing the hood of the sweater to drag you to the restrooms, taking the bottle away from you. “Go pee.” 

“I don’t have to anymore.” You say, and he narrows his eyes at you.  

“Too bad.” He denies. “Go squeeze something out, I’m not gonna take you again.” He threatens, and you reluctantly go anyways, before you re-emerge, glaring at him, until you have an idea. He watches as you stand in front of him, putting on your best puppy-dog eyes, and holding your arms out upwards to him. “What.” He asks, arms crossed.  

“Carry me?” You ask, and he thinks about it for a good second, before he agrees.  

“Alright.” He nods. 

“Wait, really?!” You ask, surprised- when suddenly, your world is upside-down, with him carrying you over his shoulder, one arm holding onto your legs so you don’t tip over and fall off his back. And he hears you laugh about it most of all, your fluffy, curled tail wagging right into his face if it wasn't for his other hand holding it down as well, his own lips turned into a smile.  

Because honestly, this is what your life is supposed to be like. Happy, fun, and most of all, normal.  

It’s clear to him that you’ve simply never really had any proper interactions before that could’ve taught you how to socialize and get used to general manners- if anything, you most likely always got what you wanted just to have you shut up and be quiet. And eventually, when you grew up into an adult that you are now, things simply had gotten stuck like this. 

The reason why he thinks this, is just how.. Helpless you seem at the simplest of interactions. From simple questions about your hobbies, to normal touches like a hug for a greeting, everything appears to be foreign to you. And you mask that insecurity and lack of understanding with attitude- because up until now, most likely, this must’ve been your best defense. Everyone would leave you alone if you got cranky, and so, these days, you must feel extremely confused and without any direction, considering that this doesn’t work with him.  

But you’ve got to learn. Not just basic manners, but also the fact that not everyone in the world is out to get you.  

Especially not him.  

Back in the practice room, you’re now on his lap, where he’s got your hands behind your back, held by your wrists in his hand, grip strong. “We gotta practice.” You whine, but he knows that’s not what you’re going to do once he lets go.  

“We do.” He agrees. “And we will, once you’ve finished your tantrum.” He tells oyu, and you scoff.  

“I’m not having a tantrum. You’re being an asshole!” You tell him. “Who cares if I eat your snacks? You can just get new one’s!” You complain, and he shakes his head at that.  

“It’s not about that. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. If I want to take something from you, I’ll ask. If you want something from me, you’ll have to ask as well.” He explains, and you kick out your legs, trying to get off- but he’s got a strong hold on you, so you’re stuck in place.  

“I’m not a child!” You bark, slipping off of his legs to instead lay on the floor now. He raises a brow.  

“You’re sure acting like one.” He says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have boundaries that you’d like respected?” He asks, looking down at where you’re laying on the floor at his feet, and you stare at him for a second with an unsure gaze, before you slowly sit up, eyes glossy. It’s obvious that sentence must’ve hit a sore spot for you, because you’re visibly fighting another emotional outburst as you try and swallow down any tears that want to escape.  

It’s quiet. Mostly because you don’t want to break down, and he doesn’t want to say anything that might set you off. He hates seeing you like this- but he knows that one way or another, you’ll have to face these things.  

“I’ll respect any boundary you give me.” He tells you. “I promise you that. But you’ll have to do the same for me, because that’s fair, right?” He asks, and you take in a deep breath, before you lean against his leg, head resting against his thigh.  

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, and he reaches out to out a comforting hand on your head. “I’ll be more fair.” You say, and he smiles.  

“Thank you.” He offers, before you look up at him.  

“Can we practice more now?” You ask, and he shrugs.  

“If you want to.” He says, and you nod.  

“It’s.. Actually fun. If you don’t nag all the time.” You playfully argue, making him roll his eyes.  

“I’m just trying to get you to do your best.” He denies, and you smile brightly at that, tail wagging on the floor, a sight he’s come to really like.  

“Thank you.” You say, and for the first time, he has to admit- 

You can actually be really fucking cute, if you want to be. 

[euphorajeon]

wednesday night(s) | jjk

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff? | college au

— word count: 2.9k

— warnings: laundromat!jk (!!!), stalkerish behaviour (not jk or oc), dubious-consensual kissing (but they talk about it after), jk is a sweetheart and oc is just a blabbering mess

— summary: on a wednesday night seven weeks ago, you met someone in the laundry room. this wednesday night, you meet him again.

— author's note: i suck at summaries,, the story is better i promise (i hope,,, T_T) anyways. i had this in the draft like a few weeks after seven mv was released and then got stuck, revisited it months later then finished it like this. hah. i hope laundromat!jk with his grey hoodie and curly hair is enough to keep this enjoyable :]

masterlist

The dim lighting of the shared laundry room in your apartment building greets you as you step inside with your laundry basket in hand. It’s devoid of other people when you look around, the whirring of the washers and dryers the only sound competing with the silence of the night. You exhale a breath of relief, quickly making a beeline for the nearest empty washer to load your dirty clothes that’s piled up for a week.

Being a college student doesn’t give you many options for your living arrangement, only being able to settle on a one-bedroom apartment with a communal laundry room. In the first months of moving into the apartment, your schedule only allowed you to do your laundry on the weekends, which was apparently the same case for most patrons of the building. The laundry room was always full of people and you had to secure a washer by waiting for someone else to finish, wasting precious hours away from your supposedly free weekend. That, and your social battery was always drained from all the loud conversations among roommates and friends alike when they were also waiting for a washer to free up. You couldn’t stand having your energy gone even before Monday said hello, so you tried to clear your schedule to avoid doing laundry on the weekend.

Wednesday nights are scheduled for laundry now, after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live. Usually you’d be tired after the long day, but the laundry room is mostly quiet in the middle of the week, so you use the time to decompress while preparing yourself for your 10 am shift at the coffee shop Thursday morning. The burn in your arms after folding your shirts and pants for nearly twenty minutes helps you tune out your surroundings, which normally consists of the occasional one or two other patrons coming in and the whirr and beep of machines.

“You showed up late tonight.”

Ah, that’s something you forget to mention. Or rather, someone.

Your heart jumps in your chest, beats stuttering a bit faster not because you’re flustered in his presence, but because he just popped out of nowhere. Wasn’t the room empty when you scanned it upon your entry?

Maybe you were too busy trying to declutter your mind from the day’s events that you didn’t hear him loading his own laundry into the washer. Didn’t hear the beep when his washer started, didn’t hear him calling you upon noticing your presence, didn’t hear him walk closer, and certainly didn’t hear when he sat on top of the washer right next to the one you’re using. Or maybe you did hear something, but didn’t care enough to find out who it was.

“Did you go on a date?” He gestures to the black tanktop you have on underneath your denim jacket. Probably referring to your face too, which is still caked with make up because you haven’t had time to clean it off yet. You spare him a glance with a downturn of your lips, by now a standard response to whatever he says, really.

You met him for the first time around seven weeks ago, when he accidentally knocked you over with his gigantic laundry basket. He had apologized profusely with that big, round peepers of his and you had brushed him off with a polite smile, hoping he’d just drop it and leave you alone like any normal person would. He had been silent for the rest of his laundry cycle, but you could feel the way his eyes never left your figure for the remainder of the night.

A week after that, you found him using the exact same washer as last week and tried to avoid the one next to his, planning to load your laundry quietly and duck out of there before he had the chance to realize that you were in the vicinity. The plan was … partly successful as you managed to get out of the laundry room to wait out the washing cycle in your room, but not before he appeared beside you when you were putting in fabric softener into the washer. He had waited until your washer started running to once again voice out an apology for the laundry basket incident, something you told him to chill out about. He was just about to tell you his name when you mumbled out an excuse to flee, leaving him gaping in the middle of the laundry room. You did not want to know his name.

You found out anyway on your next Wednesday shift at the coffee shop, when you were munching on a chocolate muffin in the break room with one of your coworker, Mingyu. He had been showing you his Instagram account, scrolling through the photos when you recognized the Laundry Guy in one of them. “You know him?” Mingyu had inquired upon noticing your thumb had paused scrolling. A recount of what happened two weeks ago involving a certain doe-eyed boy and his enormous laundry basket was told, pulling out an amused laugh from your coworker. “His name is Jeongguk,” Mingyu kindly informed you (even though you didn’t ask.) “He’s in a few of my classes. Likes doing laundry. One time I went to his apartment to hang out and he did laundry in the middle of the night.”

Maybe you would’ve liked this Jeongguk guy if he kept doing his laundry in the middle of the night, out of your sight.

“Hey, Star, someone is looking for you.” The sound of Jeongguk’s voice pulls you back to the present.

Star. The nickname he started calling you by when he saw you loading your blanket—which is dark blue in color and has yellow stars all over it—into the washer one time. You’ve never really responded to it, but he sticks by the nickname like he’s been calling you that since you both were five. You let him have it then, seeing it as a win-win because it keeps him from knowing your name but still lets you know whenever he’s around and talking to you.

But beyond the nickname, the words after that caught your attention. Jeongguk’s nudge on your arm is barely noticeable, but the way his eyes are fixated on the doorway makes you follow his line of sight. There, just outside the laundry room, stood the person you want to see the least right now. Not after the shitty presentation you gave in class this morning (that in turn, got you scolded by your professor), not after you did terrible on your quiz on the second class, and not after you got an earful from your manager at the cafe for not handling a customer complaint professionally. Oh, and certainly, not in front of Jeongguk.

The person outside the laundry room yells your name. “Fancy meeting you here!” he continues, the cheery tone grating your ears. Fuck, how did he know where you live?

Hyun is—was—just a regular customer of the coffee shop you work at. You always see him on your shift, and in turn, have memorized his name and order because he always orders the exact same, simple thing: a medium caramel macchiato with two extra shots. Heck, it’s simple enough that even Mingyu has it drilled into his brain as well. There are multiple occasions where either you or Mingyu had already had Hyun’s order keyed in when he’s just approaching the cashier. Efficient work time, and all.

Unfortunately, this act of memorization is seen as flirting by the guy. He’s started smiling more at you, giving you cheeky winks, even sliding you his phone number on the napkin by the pick-up counter. You’ve tried to reject him politely, but Hyun is so dense that he interpreted your polite rejection as you playing hard to get and thus has been trying even harder to get you to date him. This makes you furious but Mingyu thinks it’s hilarious.

Wait. Mingyu…

He could be the one who told Hyun where you live. That motherfucker.

In the midst of your misery, you miss the way Jeongguk’s eyes light up at finally getting to know your name after seven weeks. Completely miss the way his eyes fill with mirth and his cherub cheeks lifting up in the beginning of a teasing smile, which dims as soon as he sees you bury your head in hands.

“Can we get out of here?” you grit through your teeth. You don’t even know when I turned to we, and with Jeongguk, of all people. You could’ve just bolted out of there, wait out your laundry cycle in your room like usual and pretend you don’t notice Jeongguk’s disappointed gaze that follows. Could’ve left him to deal with Hyun who’s inching closer towards you and have fun imagining him fumble trying to explain nonexistent shit to Hyun.

But that route could end up very badly if Hyun decided to abandon Jeongguk and follow you up to your room instead. It’s scary enough that he knows precisely what building you live in—you don’t need him knowing the exact room number. Hence, using Jeongguk as a shield at this moment feels like a safe choice.

“Heyyy,” Hyun’s voice reaches your ears again, prompting you to glance up, seeing him just a few steps away from you. In a desperate attempt, you grip the material of Jeongguk’s grey hoodie, whisper I’m so sorry before pulling him down to kiss him right on the mouth.

It’s awkward. You can feel how shocked Jeongguk is by the way his lips are still, frozen like a statue for the first few seconds of your kiss. Can’t blame him, though, after his numerous attempts of camaraderie were only responded with a cold shoulder by you. Heck, if you were in his position, you’d slap yourself across the face for pulling this crazy stunt. But Jeongguk is not you, so instead of that, he relaxes his lips before lightly gripping your jaw to angle your head better so he can kiss you properly.

And kiss properly you do, until all you can hear is only the smacking of your lips and the few soft sighs Jeongguk slips in between. He kisses you slowly, sucks on your bottom lip softly like it’s his favorite gummy candy and he wants to savor the taste. He must’ve had a lot of practice to be kissing someone this good.

“Really?” Hyun’s voice sounds far away in your head. “You think I would fall for that?”

When neither of you responds, still busy sucking each other’s lips, Hyun continues. “Please,” he says sarcastically. “Anyone could see that this is all fake.”

You feel Jeongguk pulling away from the kiss, his lips just a breath away from yours. You keep your eyes closed, your breath held, in fear that you’d melt into a puddle right then and there if you see Jeongguk’s face this close. When he speaks, the faint brush of his lips against yours makes you shiver.

“What makes you think this is fake?” he says. There’s a quirk on the corner of his lips when he kisses you again. “Never seen people kissing before? Or are you just trying to convince yourself that this is fake?”

Jeongguk’s hands move from your face to hold your waist, where he squeezes lightly before once again capturing your lips in his. You let out a muffled yelp when his hands slide lower to hoist you up onto a washing machine. The kissing resumes, more smacking sound is heard, and Hyun’s presence gets pushed to the back of your mind. All you can think about is Jeongguk’s lips, how warm and plush they are, and how they are pulling away from you again.

The tiny whine you let out gets lost in Jeongguk’s grunt, still addressing Hyun: “Scram, bro.” When that gets no response, he adds for good measure: “Shoo.”

You hear Hyun click his tongue in annoyance and the stomps he makes while walking away after, but find yourself unable to focus on either as Jeongguk goes back to sucking your bottom lip. The reason why you’re doing this definitely gets forgotten as you let yourself be carried away in Jeongguk’s kisses.

When someone tears open the door of the washing machine next to you loudly, you tear yourself apart from Jeongguk. He’s panting lightly, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He’s also smiling at you, pointedly ignoring the dirty look thrown by the only other person in the laundry room other than you two. You grimace at the person, bowing slightly as a pathetic attempt at an apology.

Then you face Jeongguk again. Who’s still flushed. Whose lips still glisten red. Who’s still smiling at you, this time with mirth in his eyes. You fumble.

“Uh, about earlier—“

“Do you want to get off the washing machine first?”

Uh, what?

Right, you’re still sitting on top of the washing machine. Hoisted up by Jeongguk’s hands. On your thighs. Then kissing, licking, sucking—

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat, bracing your hands on the machine but Jeongguk beats you to it by once again taking hold of your waist to help you step down. Unfortunately, that means your legs haven’t caught up with your brain yet so they buckle like a pair of useless jelly underneath you. Again, Jeongguk steadies you with his firm hold, still with upturned lips.

“Woah, there. You okay?” He giggles—giggles!—eyes scrunching up into crescents. His hands never leave your waist even after you’re standing solid on your own two feet.

“Yeah, um, thanks.” You try to look at anything but him. “Listen, Jeongguk. I—“

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Jeongguk tilts his head, the unruly strands atop his head making him look like a puppy. “I never told you, did I?”

“Oh, Mingyu told me—“

“You know Mingyu?”

You lift your hands to place them on his shoulders firmly. “Let me finish first?”

Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, but nods to let you continue.

“Okay, um. I’m really sorry about earlier … the drama with Hyun and the— kissing…. I just couldn’t think and didn’t know what else to do. I’m really, very sorry.” You let your head drop, the weight of kissing a stranger starting to get to you.

Jeongguk is quiet. You’re conjuring up another speech of apology with some backstory to help you justify yourself, just in case he decides that your first apology isn’t enough.

“It’s okay.” Huh? “I liked kissing you, anyway.”

You choke on air. “Wh—at?”

“I liked kissing you.” Jeongguk smiles again, that same mirth still in his eyes. “You know, Star, for someone so confident in pulling me down for a kiss, you sure are stuttering a lot right now.” His smile turns into a teasing one. “Did you like kissing me too?”

The person next to you slams the washing machine door closed. “Get a room, people,” she hisses before walking out of the laundry room.

“Nice advice.” Jeongguk gestures to the retreating girl. “Should we, Star?”

Your eyes are round in shock, mortified at Jeongguk’s suggestion. Though, you suppose it’s karma for kissing a stranger only for your convenience. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, type of shit.

When you’re still frozen after five seconds, Jeongguk lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding, kidding! Oh, God, you look so scared. Seriously, though, it’s totally okay. You have nothing to be worried about.”

Despite the huge sigh you heave, you’re still not convinced. “Are you sure? I completely understand if you’re mad, though.”

“I’m gonna be mad if you keep apologizing,” Jeongguk says. “Or, if you feel that bad about it … you could pay me back with a date.”

This time, his smile is hopeful. “A date, where you could tell me your real name, how you know Mingyu, and the story about whoever the hell that was that interrupted our kiss.” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Then, we could end it the way we started today … with a kiss. If you want?”

“Oh, well, if it’s to pay you back for the kiss, sure…” you trail off, feeling weird about how the situation has come to. “Damn, when you ask for my consent like that it makes me feel worse for not doing the same to kiss you earlier.” You physically face-palm.

“Since you feel so bad about that, do you want to ask for my consent now?” Jeongguk looks at you with his big, round eyes, appearing innocent like a child. You wonder if this is the same boy you just kissed some minutes ago.

“How, like, ‘Hey, Jeongguk, someone I don’t like just walked in, can I kiss you?’” you say, half giggling.

“Sounds like a mouthful, maybe just the last four words?” Jeongguk licks his lips.

You tilt your head in amazement, your lips curving up into a small smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you can, Star,” comes Jeongguk’s reply, his hands going back to your jaw. He gives you a wink before dipping down.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers before kissing you once again.

Maybe now you’ll look forward to your weekly laundry schedule—after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live—on Wednesday nights.

Because on Wednesday nights, a certain boy with big, doe eyes and unruly hair does his laundry with his huge laundry basket and calls you Star. This Wednesday night, he kissed you—uh, you kissed him.

Next Wednesday night … you’d just have to wait and see.

a/n: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed this drabble while we wait for bangtan to come back :')) also you can give me feedback here! :D

[alchemistc]

Just thinking about Buck internalizing 'i don't think you're ready'. Thinking about him running back over his 'I'm an ally' speech and cringing because God, WHY did he say that, why couldn't he have just been cool.

Thinking about him actually sitting in it, and thinking about why the interruption from Eddie made him Act Like That. There's obviously the newness, the discomfort, the fact that Buck hasn't really had a chance to explore much of "Oh, I am attracted to men." yet. He was so busy with nerves and he wanted more time and then there was Eddie, who knows (probably too much) about Buck's dating history and he Hasn't Told Eddie about this. He hasn't had a chance to wrap his own mind around it yet.

Buck usually goes to three people: Maddie, Eddie, Bobby.

And he hasn't talked to any of them. And he's stewing, trying to figure out WHY, because he's always been supportive, so why should he feel any different when he's on the other side of it.

He goes to Maddie and pushes his "I've always supported the gays" agenda AGAIN and Maddie has to parse the details, gently shove Buck in the right direction - well, if you're MORE than an ally now, that could be something that is preventing you from telling your best friend the truth, let's explore that some more.

It takes him two tries with Eddie, and maybe it's the setting (why would you think it was a good idea to come out in the middle of the station, Evan Buckley, supportive ally or no that's not exactly gonna put you in your comfort zone, c'mon) or maybe he just needs to work his way up to it because Eddie is obviously Preoccupied. But he almost lets the moment pass, again, at home, in his own space, bc Eddie is still Preoccupied. But -- but he doesn't WANT to, because they are talking about their love lives and Buck wants Eddie to be an active participant in his thought process just like he always is.

We were on a date, he says, and Eddie takes a second to process. Which. Fair. Buck had leaned against his kitchen island for like ten minutes after Tommy left, that night after he kissed him. Eddie prompts him to repeat it, and it doesn't suck, actually, it feels like a weight lifting off his chest -- "Is that weird?" -- but of course Eddie doesn't find it weird, he just didn't KNOW (so many pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Eddie, holy shit his best friend maimed him because he had a crush on their new friend, holy shit had Tommy been slyly pumping his son for information because HE had a crush too???).

And suddenly Buck is absolutely free to bitch about his love life again, and Eddie is there to give him advice and be fully in his corner and Buck has exactly what he needs to go Full Buck. He's got his sister, and his best friend, and maybe he actually doesn't need Bobby this time because it feels right to call Tommy up and set up a meeting for coffee.

No longer bogged down by "well I'm an ally why couldn't I have been chill about being on a date with a dude" - he can text Maddie that night and be like "Hey is Tommy already invited to the wedding?" and grin when she texts back "Buck what does this mean" and send back "You said you wanted to meet him".

With Eddie's support and his "well then he's an idiot", Buck has the time to mull over what he wants to say, what Tommy makes him feel, what he would want if Tommy was willing to give him another chance. He doesn't want it to be one failed date, he doesn't want to hide Tommy away, he wants something real and something true and something he can share with his family and friends and he thinks maybe Tommy could want that, too.

[anistarrose]

You added an "image description" to my post - now what? (FAQ)

[Plain text: "You added an 'image description' to my post - now what? (FAQ)". End PT.]

While I'm literally always willing to answer (good faith) questions about image descriptions, alt text, and online accessibility writ large, I also know lots of people have social anxiety about sending DMs, doing IDs "wrong," or just not knowing what IDs are for in the first place. Hence, this FAQ.

If I added an ID to your post and/or asked you to do so, and you're confused about any aspect of that, this is where to start. You can absolutely still reach out to me, I just thought I should consolidate as many answers as possible.

"What is an ID and why does it matter?"

IDs are a description of the content of an image, and can range from a transcript of a screenshot of text, to a description of a detailed piece of art. They should be in plain text, and placed on the line immediately following the image (unless it's alt text, more on those pros and cons later).

IDs are primarily for blind and low vision people who use screen readers to navigate the internet — but help others too, including lots of neurodivergent people. Check out this post (link) and the notes for more examples (dyslexics, migraine sufferers, people who can't interpret expressions, people with slow internet...)

IDs are important because without them, the Internet really sucks for people who need them. You probably don't realize how many undescribed images circulate on tumblr every day, with no way for a lot of disabled people to engage with those posts.

A blind person talks in more detail about all of this here (link).

"I reblogged your ID, is that enough?"

It's not that I don't appreciate it, but editing it into the root post and then reblogging that is much more impactful, for a variety of reasons. It means people who need IDs don't have to dig through the notes for them, it means that Tumblr can't glitch by failing to load the notes and make the ID functionally disappear, and it means all people who find the post in the tags or on your blog will be sharing the accessible version.

To explain visually, the best thing to do is something like this:

[ID: two mock-up Tumblr posts to illustrate adding an ID from the notes to the root post. A blog named "your-blog" posts an image of text reading "something cool you posted" with the caption "check out this cool image I made!" In the notes, the blog "image-describer" reblogs with an ID, which is highlighted. This version of the post is labeled: "original post, reblogged via ID writer."

The second version of the post is from "your-blog" again, where they've added the ID directly under the image, with the same caption below the ID. This version is labeled "updated root post, with ID copy-pasted. End ID.]

"My caption/commentary first, or ID first?"

Include the ID right under the image, followed by your caption or commentary. Unless you're putting your commentary before the image itself, a sighted person will see "image, commentary" in that order, so to ensure the post flows the same way, use the order "image, ID, commentary."

Commentary frequently assumes that the reader has seen the image, after all! A person might not even realize the image is described if the ID is buried too deep, because they might lose patience and skip the post. Or, to explain visually:

[ID: two mock-up example posts with an ID, one formatted well and one poorly. They both start with an image, which is just the text "screenshot of a tweet or something." The first post includes the ID immediately under the image. Below, it continues: "commentary blah blah blah get a load of this guy can you believe it." The post is labeled "Like this!" in green with a check mark.

The second post includes the commentary first, then the ID after the commentary. It's labeled: "Reads awkwardly, deprives screen reader users of immediate context" in red with an X. End ID.]

"I want to make a change to the ID, is that okay?"

Yep! If you want me to change it on my blog too (whether it's characters' pronouns, some typo, etc), just message me.

"What if someone else adds an ID to my post? Would they also be okay with me editing it into the original post like you are?"

Almost certainly! I can't speak for everyone, but I've literally never met an ID writer who wouldn't be okay with it — because we all have the shared goal of maximizing accessibility. If you're unsure or nervous, you can always include credit, but most people are even fine with going uncredited.

"I put your ID in the alt text, is that enough?"

I will never tell you not to use alt text when the alternative is an undescribed post, but I really strongly suggest putting it in both the alt text and the post. Some people who use screen readers prefer the flow of alt text, for good reason — but it's also poorly implemented on Tumblr, and it can glitch and disappear on reblogs, in drafts, or just apropos of nothing.

Moreover, when a low-vision person or anyone else wants to read the alt text directly, Tumblr's display options aren't great. (Unless you use XKit Rewritten's AccessKit, which I will always plug, but that's not an option for mobile users.) Long alt text often extends off the page and gets cut off. Tumblr used to use a terrible eye-straining purple background for it, and could always do that again with no warning. It's just not ideal.

Here's a visually impaired person talking more about the pros and cons (link).

It seems we're in need of a compromise, so what can you do? One option is to include the same alt text as image description (placing the ID directly under the image as always, because remember, flow for screen readers is important). I like to lead with "ID from alt," in order to clarify to screen reader users that they can skip the ID, and help differentiate it from the other option I'm about to describe. This should be self-explanatory, but here's an example of a post I did in this style (link).

Option two is to include a short description in the alt text, and a more detailed explanation in-post. This can let screen reader users instantly know that the post is described, and decide whether they're interested enough in it to stick with it, but it maintains an in-post description for others to benefit from too.

Example of me doing this in a post about IDs (link)

Example of my mutual describing art like this (link)

Also, it's the style I follow throughout this exact post! Take a look!

As usual, the ID is directly below the image in all these cases. This means screen readers move immediately from the alt text to the full description, and the post flows the same way it would for a sighted person.

If you're here because I wrote an ID for you, it might be easier for you to put it in the alt text and the post body identically, and that's perfectly fine! But if you're confident writing one short sentence for the alt text and including my ID in the body, you can always go for that too!

"Do I need to keep the brackets or the words 'image description/ID' in the alt text?"

Nope, no need. Brackets are purely for the visual distinction, and most screen readers preface alt text with something like "Image" that fulfills the same purpose as the "ID" label. It's not the end of the world if they're there, but it's redundant, so feel free to remove them.

"Can I put the ID under a read more? Or in small text?"

Please don't. Read mores are glitchy, and oftentimes have to be opened in a new tab. Accessibility that requires jumping through extra hoops isn't accessibility. And worse, if you change your URL or get deactivated, that read more link is usually just gone for good, and the post is undescribed again.

Meanwhile, small text, italics, colored text, and so on aren't good for low vision people or others who read the IDs directly — such as with increased font size — for whatever reason. If you want the ID to stand out visually even more than with brackets, an indent is fine as far as I know. And remember, IDs always go immediately below the image!

"Why do you sometimes copy italics and stuff as plain text? Is that a screen reader thing too?"

Same reason IDs shouldn't be in small text, italics, etc — because of sight readers with low vision. Font in weird styles, or in a fixed size regardless of device settings (to my knowledge, this includes headings) isn't very accessible, so I try to provide an accessible transcript.

Colored text is sometimes even inaccessible to sighted people using certain Tumblr themes! If Tumblr gave individual users the option to disable small text and colors on their dash, then I'd tell you to use them to your heart's content, but as it stands, they're not very accessible.

"Okay, I want to make my blog more accessible, but I don't feel capable of writing IDs on my own. How can I get help?"

Good news, this is my absolute favorite question! I strongly recommend the People's Accessibility Discord (invite link here, please let me know if it breaks).

It was created for this exact purpose of crowdsourcing IDs (and answering questions about them). I talk about it more in this post (link), where I also describe an alternative if you're like me and have massive social anxieties about Discord servers.

TL;DR: ask in the post if someone can add an image description, and edit it in once someone does! If you've read this far in the post, you're clearly an expert on how to do that.

In that post, I also recommend OnlineOCR (link) and Google Lens to extract text from images and save you typing if it's just a twitter thread or something. I would always spot check the text, adjust formatting, and remove superfluous characters, but it usually saves you lots of time when you might not normally have the energy to describe something.

Lastly, a lot of description blogs take requests! I don't unless I specify otherwise, because I easily run out of spoons, but @accessible-art is a great example of a blog that does this for non-fandom art, and there are lots of fandom blogs out there that do similar.

"I want to learn how to write image descriptions for my posts! Do you have any resources?"

This is my image description masterpost (link). I get a little scared about linking it because it's long, and a lot of the linked posts are long, and I don't want to overwhelm people — so please, start with the first few links to get the broad strokes, and then feel free to treat the rest like a index. That is, peruse it if you're looking for answers or advice on a specific topic!

While learning, keep in mind that different ID users want different things out of IDs, and that's okay. Some people, including many blind people, care quite a bit about color, but others don't, and that doesn't mean either is wrong about the types of IDs they prefer versus ones they find unnecessary.

Blind people have a massive range of lived experiences, and all the other people who benefit from IDs broaden that range even more. Generally, no one involved wants huge walls of text, but some people prefer super-minimal IDs, while others prefer a nice handful of (relevant) details. It's stuff like the difference between "Two characters hugging in a cozy-looking house," versus "Two characters hugging with their eyes closed, both smiling. Their house looks cozy and cluttered, with warm lighting."

Neither of those is objectively wrong, and there will be people who prefer either. Nor is it wrong for you, the ID writer, to make a subjective judgement, such as on the "cozy" mood. You don't want to misrepresent things, but subjectivity is usually unavoidable on some level, and therefore fine. Likewise, you don't want to let the ID get so long it's a slog to get through (here's an example of what NOT to do), but if you're describing a complicated image like some art might be, it's okay to add some details. Just start with the important stuff and general idea first.

The purpose of an image also matters. With memes, shorter is almost always better, and excessive detail is annoying (post with examples). You don't need in-depth detail to appreciate most quick jokes. But on the other hand, art is often shared for the purpose of appreciating the details. This post goes into detail about how context matters, and how longer IDs make sense for art sometimes. It puts it better than I could, so I really suggest reading it if this is something you're wondering about! Key word: not length, not brevity, but "relevancy."

In my opinion, IDs are easiest to learn by doing, but also by starting small. If you want to build up your "description muscles" and confidence by just transcribing tweets, that's perfectly fine — and also, the path that myself and a lot of people I know have followed.

Lastly: follow some described blogs! Check out how other people do it! Writing IDs is an art, and though it has a few hard do's and don't's we've gone over, we've also gone over how it's subjective. Everyone brings a slightly different style, with a different level of lengthiness, and it's great to learn from multiple sources. Here's one list of blogs like those (link)!

"Why would this matter if I know I don't have any blind people following me?"

Consider the cycle of inaccessibility (link). If no one ever accommodates blind people, then of course you're not going to see them on Tumblr, in fandom, or in whatever internet circles! And blind people aren't the only people who need image descriptions — again, consider this post, especially this addition (link).

Worst case scenario, even if you have no one who can benefit from IDs either following you, and no people who need IDs would follow you even if you included them, you're still helping people who do maintain accessible blogs to do so — and moreover, normalizing image descriptions in general.

"I don't think blind people would be in this fandom. I mean, there's a huge visual component!"

Described comics and webcomics exist. Audio descriptions for TV shows and movies exist. Disabled people who find creative ways to play video games exist. People who watched a playthrough of a video game by a person who happened to read out the dialogue, and give descriptive commentary on the action, also exist. People who lose their vision over time, or gain other reasons to rely on IDs over time, also exist.