#Why read any of this? why follow? why care?

[amywritesthings]

care. / a levi period comfort fic

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: You have to skip your gym date with Levi due to bad period cramps. Levi, however, isn't going to let you suffer alone.

note: set in the press four for more options / dating on airplane mode universe tags: modern au, neighbors au, menstruation, cramp pain, period talk, doting new boyfriend levi, fluff, adult language, reader has a chronic pms pain

author note: today is my birthday!! my gift to you is this little P4/DOAP one shot. this is a little self indulgent, so i hope this helps anyone else that experiences bad pains like me! i will be writing one shots all month for my endo awareness event, so feel free to send requests if you would like to see more! credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

( Read on AO3. )

You know as soon as you wake up what kind of day it’s going to be.

As you stir from slumber, you’re met with the familiar, unforgiving punch to the gut before you take your first deep inhale. The sharp jab is a tell-tale sign that you should have probably hit the pharmacy when you had the time during your lunch break — yesterday.

You know, before things got awful.

“God damn it.”

Periods have always been a sore spot to discuss in your life. The immense pain that follows the next agonizing few days is not a new occurrence, but knowing them intimately never makes them any better. No matter how many times you’ve prepared, weathered, endured — it’s a gamble whether or not you have the energy to eat today, much less do anything productive.

Dragging your phone off of the adjacent nightstand, your heart sinks when you see your most recent notifications:

Alarm set for 7:30 a.m. (Dismiss?)

Remember to pay credit card bill. (Eventually.)

New text from Levi Ackerman.

Shit.

Opening the third notification first, you read his text from five minutes ago.

[LEVI:] Hey. Still going to the gym this morning?

Self hatred floods your system when you realize there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going to the gym today, much less leaving this apartment. It’ll be a miracle if you can drag yourself to the bathroom.

Missing out on seeing Levi today hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

Tapping the reply bubble, you type in response:

[ME:] Sorry, not feeling well. :( Rain check?

It’s weird to confess why, right?

Everything is way too fresh, much too new, between the two of you.

You can’t burden your newest partner with the—

Another notification pops up immediately.

[LEVI:] What’s wrong?

Double shit.

Sighing to yourself, you type back, hesitate, then send.

[ME:] Don’t worry about it, it’s pretty embarrassing. I probably won’t be able to leave the apartment today. I’m rooting you on from down here!

Or up here, technically, if he’s going to be at the gym.

(Dumbass.)

You drop your phone to your mattress, slowly easing yourself out of bed. You check the sheets behind you to make sure you didn’t ruin them — thank god, there’s a singular win for this morning — before waddling to the bathroom.

Grabbing a new pair of underwear and a pad, you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands, taking some time to breathe through the initial cramps.

A few days.

Just a few days and you can—

It’s faint, but you hear it.

Three raps at your front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perking your head up, your brows furrow as you finish up, tug your pajama bottoms back on, and wash your hands. Crossing the living room to the front door, you use the peephole to see who’s waiting outside.

For the briefest moment, you forget your cramps altogether.

“Levi?!” you yelp, shocked by his presence.

“Hey,” he states, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his typical white workout tank, displaying his lean arms in the fisheye lens of your doorframe. “You okay in there?”

“I— yeah, I’m okay!” you lie, higher pitched than usual. “Sorry, I can’t let you in.”

You note how his chin tilts, contemplating your brevity. 

“You come down with some shitty cold or whatever?”

“No, it’s—”

“Stomach bug?”

“No, not at all, it’s just—”

“I can wear a mask if you got something catchable.” He shifts, thumbing back to the hallway behind him like he knows you’re watching. “I have a bunch at my place.”

“Levi, no,” you blurt, getting frustrated. “I have my period!”

The dark-haired man stops.

His brows furrow, contemplating with evident confusion on his face.

“...I’m confused, a period of what? Fucking dysentary or something?” When you’re about to argue, he pointedly glances at the peephole. “Can you at least open the door for a sec?”

Reluctantly you agree to his request, unlocking the door and swinging it open. You feel immense shame standing in front of your new boyfriend looking messy and make-up free.

There hasn’t even been time to at least put on some moisturizer, damn it.

When he finally sees you at your worst (or so you perceive to be your worst) he doesn’t even bat an eye.

The stormy grays just stare into your own, brows rising expectantly.

“What do you need?”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to breathe through another wave of cramps. “What?”

With a tsk, he steps a baited sneaker into the threshold of your apartment. When you don’t push him out, he fully enters your apartment and beelines to your kitchen.

(Right. Same layout, just a couple of floors higher.)

“Get comfy on the couch,” he states like he’s a coach again, devoid of nonsense. “You have any tea lying around?”

“I don’t understand,” you state, only then closing the door to your apartment. “You were about to go to the gym—”

“Yeah, and now I’m not.”

“Levi.”

“Couch,” he counters, plucking the kettle you had sitting dormant on your stovetop to fill it with water. “Or your bed, if that makes you more comfortable.”

You can’t really argue with that, not when your cramps are making you dizzy.

Hell, his insistence on helping is making you even dizzier but in an entirely different way.

When you dated Porco, he never extended help beyond some comforting words and a stray pint of ice cream. Levi looks natural rummaging around your kitchen as if he’s been spending time here for months.

“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you try to reason, though you find yourself slowly shambling towards your couch anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, my mother used to have a lot of really bad months when I was growing up.” Levi starts the stove, heating up the water. His eyes briefly flicker to you. “My friend, Hange, doesn’t exactly have a walk in the park with this shit, either. They left an arsenal of supplies at my place whenever they come around. Can’t imagine they’ll care if I borrow some of it.”

So Levi has period supplies at his apartment for friends and family?

That…

You’ve never heard of any man who has something like that.

“Supplies like what?”

“Admittedly it’s a bunch of stuff we used to offer people at our gym in case they were having a rough week,” he explains as if this is nothing while he watches the kettle grow hot. 

Then again, periods are supposed to be nothing.

They’re natural and half of the planet go through them monthly, and yet —

“Heating pads, two different sizes. Mint and ginger tea are soothing for cramping. I’ve got a decently fresh stock of those leaves. Not sure if you’re out of sanitary products, but I got some of those in a cabinet, too.”

You stare dumbfounded, your heart skipping a beat.

(As if this man couldn’t be any more attractive.)

When you don’t respond, he turns around to look at you. His eyes soften as they search your face.

“I’d ask how your pain is right now, but I take it it’s high?” You nod. “Alright. Mind if I keep the door unlocked? I’ll run upstairs and grab everything.”

“You don’t have—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, but it isn’t firm like before.

Levi walks across the room towards you. As he bends at the hip, his dog tags slip out of his tank top.

Gentle lips press to the crown of your head.

“Let me take care of you, alright? You’re my girl. That’s my responsibility, especially when you’re feeling like shit. I can do push-ups anywhere. Gym’s not a necessity.”

Melting at his reassurance, you can’t help but tease. 

“So I get pampering and a show? Talk about high-class service.”

The lips on your head curve to a smirk before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. His hand raises to cup the side of your face adoringly. An absentminded thumb strokes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you know me. High fucking class or whatever.”

When you laugh, the corner of his mouth twitches again. He lifts your chin and leans forward, kissing your lips. You return the gesture, warmth spreading throughout your body.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

“It only takes you five minutes to run up six flights of stairs and back?”

“You can time me if you think I’m lying.”

“Deal.”

[bibuwaspancaked]

some of y'all act like kaiser didn't literally study psychology to manipulate other people/his teammates to his own benefits.

in the egoist bible, it is said that his hobbies are reading psychology and philosophy and he says that his own strenght is looking down on all other "humans".

his past is meaningful to him and only him and is not an excuse to be manipulative towards others, specially ness. And I mean ness by their first time meeting, where kaiser saw ness as an opportunity to use what he learned against him to start scoring at the BM pro exam, since he wasn't getting any passes from ther other players. I am not talking about what their relationship has grown into after that.

most important, y'all are acting like isagi has any knowledge of kaiser's past like the reader does. as long as we, readers, know, there's no characters that know any of kaiser's past besides kaiser himself and ray dark. isagi manipulated kaiser's game, not his feelings (if anything, he predicted those).

also, even kaiser admits he enjoys seeing other people lose, hurt them and has a thing for faces of despair (info taken by the egoist bible), it would be no different if he was the one winning the bet between him and isagi during the BM vs PXG match, if not worse than isagi was with him.

he even compares himself to his own father, whom has physically abused and beat him countless times; how he "understands" why he used to do all of that to kaiser because, now, he is the one doing it, but in soccer.

kaiser bet everything he had with isagi, and isagi did the same. it would be the end of the other regardlessly of who would win. both of them knew it. it's not isagi's fault kaiser had unadressed feelings towards his past and isagi's soccer made him come to terms with it.

isagi only played the game kaiser accepted to play. isagi only said what kaiser told him once. if anything, kaiser was the one who taught isagi this type of ego, he tasted his own malice.

besides, kaiser was the one who told ness not to follow him anymore. to find a new player to play as a vassel to. exactly because he wanted the restrictiveness and uncertainty of other players. it wasn't on isagi's plans and much less any of his fault. it was a decision made purely from kaiser's egoist feelings. he did it out of his own will.

ness playstyle and passes weren't fit for kaiser's purpose during mid-to-end game. ness gave kaiser freedom to do whatever he wanted, but he knew he would only evolve in a different and uncomfortable environment. that's the future he wanted to his game, and ness obviously wasn't on it, in his point of view. kaiser willingly chose to, as the owner of the post said, "trust" isagi more than "the person who cared about him the most".

and even after that, in the end, ness stil believed in the new kaiser to get his pass. that pass was for the new kaiser, it just happened that kaiser didn't get any better nor new butisagi did it. and did it fast.

so there is no "isagi put kaiser against ness".

kaiser chose to push his past as a reason to keep playng with isagi while isagi only aimed for his own goal. that's what he was taught to do during the 1st and 2nd selection of blue lock, specially during the blue lock vs japan's u-20. that is what blue lock is all about, even.

on chapter 291, not only kaiser, but hiori and yukimiya, too, talk about how isagi brought their egos to it's maximum. that's relevant to bring up because it shows that kaiser is not the only one who isagi "manipulated" into accepting their past. isagi doesn't manipulate people to trust him, he makes them trust themselves to use their full potential to his own game. after all, his main goal still is to be the best striker worldwide.

and even besides all of that, I could just say kaiser was the one who started this beef against isagi and, in the end, lost it due to his own mistakes.

do not play kaiser as a victim when he could easily be the one on the throne.

michael kaiser's downfall is, certainly, the definition of how karma can be a bitch.

I mean no hate to the owner of the post;

I am not aware if the post is meant to be rage bait;

I am no psychologist, I just hope I brought up the obvious;

There is actually a lot I didn't write about, I recognize that. I am not going to since it would take me longer and would get too much for a light discussion (if it's not already);

I am open to discuss and receive any criticism, as long as it is constructive to the discussion;

This post was meant to discuss about how Isagi Yoichi is not the villain some of you want him to be just because he outsmarted your fave.

But seriously, Isagi really said "Thanks for your hard work, greatest clown" to Kaiser??? BROOOOO you literally manipulated him into trusting you and threw him against the one person that cares about him the most this isn’t being a brat or cocky, this is straight-up being an insensitive, psychopathic son of a bitch

(Kaiser just came to terms with his past, faced his deepest emotions, and for the first time in his life actually enjoyed playing football… AND THAT IDIOT RAGE BAIT HIM??? Pls kill isagi in his sleep)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It's an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'I never thought I'd be writing to someone like you, but you've shown me a different side of things. I hope that my emails give you comfort and can help you through. Even on the other side, they get me through my day. I'm always excited to read when there's a ding in my inbox.

I hope you also enjoy the little bit I could put in your commissary. If I lived closer, maybe I could bring you something homemade. At the moment, bus fare is a bit too much for my pockets.

Anyway, signing off.

Yours,

Diamond'

You add a whole line of heart emojis to the email then hit send. You giggle and click on the next. You don't have the heart to copy and paste so you add a bit of variety to the next.

This one is... Thor? That's his name. He's a funny one. Considering he's in the pen, you're surprised by that. The others are so dire; pushy too.

You hit reply on his last email. Something about a fight and apologising for not replying earlier. He says he was in solitary for a whole week. That sounds miserable. The thought is enough to scare you straight. It's why you've never done anything wrong in your whole life. Until now.

It's not really wrong. It's allowed. It's legal. You're just sending messages. If anything, it's a community service. These men don't have much more contact than each other and that's a recipe for chaos.

You won't admit that other reason aloud. That tickly feeling in your stomach. When they compliment you, when they say they missed you. You can't help but smile, even giggle sometimes. It's nice to be appreciated, even if it's all a fantasy.

You'll never meet these men. That's the fun part. You don't have to worry about any of this. Maybe that helps. Maybe you think too much when you're face-to-face. That explains why every cute guy you talk to sees past you.

'I forgive you, sweetie. It must have been so hard in there. The important thing is you replied. I got so worried! I hope that after all that, my email can bring a bit of comfort. I have to be honest, I never thought I'd be chatting with someone like you. That I could find this type of connection. Please, take care and email soon.'

Another parade of emojis follows and you send it off happily. Now you just have to wait and see who gets back to you first. If it's Ernie, you're not sure you'll respond. He's been fixated on his cell mate and his emails are getting a bit scary. That's the other great part. You can always just delete and block.

The response comes an hour later. You're sleepy and ready to pass out. You read it anyway.

'You are so kind, my queen.' You giggle. Yeah, he calls you that sometimes. If only he knew you were sitting in bed with an ice cream sandwich wrapper and your cell phone. Definitely not queenly behaviour. 'I got through it by thinking of you, of dreaming of the day when we can talk face-to-face. Wouldn't that be lovely? For all my mistakes, I think they will mean something if you and me can be together.'

You make a face. He's so cheesy. You can't help but laugh again. You're not trying to be cruel, you do empathise with his situation, you can't imagine being in prison, but like anyone else, he earned his time. There's one last light.

'If it isn't too much trouble, would you kindly send a picture so I have a face to admire in my lonelier moments? I've attached my own. Forgive me as it dates a few years back.'

You're not smiling anymore. You haven't sent any of the men pictures. They haven't offered theirs but you can look up their mug shots easily. You hate to ruin the fantasy but curiosity has you tapping the attachment.

Oh. You're surprised. He's older than you in this picture and by his own confession, is more so now. But he isn't repugnant. Anything but. Tall, blond, thick! You don't know if you've ever seen a man that size.

Even in a suit, it's obvious that his arms are bulging and his chest is ripe to burst out as the jacket button clings for dear life. The photo is cropped so that whoever he took it with is out of frame. His blue eyes sparkle above a defined smile. Has prison worn down all that?

You squirm. Guilt needles in your chest. You could close out and worry about it in the morning. You shouldn't be that sympathetic. He's still a criminal. You can say no. Easily. What's he going to do about it?

What could it hurt? If he saw your face. It's not like anyone would know. That anyone would recognise you or that he could find you anywhere else. You keep your social media anonymous. You aren't like the influencers who get attention just for being pretty.

It's that that gives you pause. You aren't anything but average. It's easier to pretend you're some pretty thing as you message these faceless men. Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe once he sees you, you won't have to worry about all that other stuff. He'll cut you off at the pass.

The thrill of it overwhelms your reluctance. It's like gambling, it could go either way.

You start a new message. More meaningly rewording of previous sentiments. Nothing new. Then you scroll through your photo roll. You take a breath and press down on a photo you think isn't half bad. It's from market day you went to with your aunt. Not exactly cutting edge but fun. She snuck in the shot as you smiled down at your gooey cinnamon roll. The impromptu snap is better than most of your posed ones.

You send and quickly lock the phone. You shove it under your pillow and swipe up the wrapper beside you. You leave it on your night stand and sink down, your insides swimming with anxiety. You're going to regret this in the morning.

🎀

'Will you call me?'

The question makes you sweat. You don't know why you feel bad. You've said no before. To him. To all of them. You draw a thick line between your secret little hobby and your real life. You shouldn't have ever sent that photo.

Despite your regret, you smile. His response was more than you could expect. The praise! You don't know that anyone ever even called you cute but he as good as wrote you a poem about your beauty. You have to remind yourself, given his circumstance, he's starved. He'd probably think your nan is sexy.

Still, you're having a hard time typing those two letter; N-O. Thor is so nice. And he asked so sweetly. But you can't do that. What if someone found out?

This whole thing is starting to feel like a big mistake, but it's so much fun. When in your life will men ever be this into you? When have they ever?

'I could call' you type without thinking. What are you doing? 'Let me know how to do that and we can set a time maybe.'

Don't hit send. Don't hit send.

Email sent.

Shit. Oh gosh. Why did you do that?

You close your laptop and leave it on your desk. You need to get ready for work. You can't be worrying about a man you'll never meet. It's all virtual, it's not real. You'll be okay.

You get yourself together and brace yourself for work. You don't really like your job. You work the counter at a tech repair shop. Independent so it's small and slow. Your boss is a bit strange too.

The only benefit is it's close and it pays a few bucks more than the alternative. You're even allowed to work on your online courses at the service desk. Really, it's perfect. You guess you're just not happy with things being boring.

You blow over the lid of your Sailor Moon travel mug and knock on the door. Jensen lets you in with a grin and stifles a yawn in his elbow. You step past him with a sheepish smile.

"If it isn't the champion of justice," he greets smugly and locks the door. You won't open for another half hour.

"Huh?" You go to the counter and slide your bag onto the shelf underneath.

"Your cup," he crosses the shop. “I am Sailor Moon, the champion of justice. In the name of the moon, I will right wrong and triumph over evil… and that means you!”

"Oh, right," you snort at his cheesiness. "You have espresso or something?"

"Red bull," he admits guiltily.

"This early?"

"Early? I never went to sleep," he comes around and goes back to typing on his glowing gaming computer. "Couldn't let my crew down."

You could roll your eyes. All he does is play Fortnite or Halo. He looks like he does too. Yet, he's in here moping after every rare stunner that walks through the door. That's why you'er there. He gets all tongue-tied with women. Well, all of them but you.

"You should join the party," he suggests.

"Well, I don't really play anymore," you shrug. "It was only for fun. My siblings... like it."

"Oh yeah, how's the family?"

"Good, I guess. They don't really call."

Your mom's too busy rebuilding her life with your step-dad. Rather, building the perfect life she never had. You sigh and open up your laptop. You grab your coffee and sip. You're tired of being forgotten.

"Jake," you say, he winces at the use of his first name, "Jensen," you glance at him, "you're a dude."

"Yeah, I am" he answers uncertainly.

"Well, you might know more than I do. You know anyone in prison? Any guys?"

"What?" He exclaims. "Where did that come from?"

"Mm... I was watching a documentary last night," you lie. "About prison or whatever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and about you know," you sway and look at your laptop. You're terrible at lying. "The women who like write to them or whatever."

"Ew, like the Ted Bundy weirdos?" He scoffs.

"Not exactly. I mean, none of them were murderers. I think," you shrug. "But... like, if you were in prison, you'd need that, right? I mean, it's just to get you through."

"I don't know. It'd be lonely, yeah, but like... what about after?" He scratches his neck. "I got a buddy who was in for a while but he's a good dude. He was only selling... stuff."

"Really?" You perk up, "he went to prison?"

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it," Jensen says. "Why are you talking about this?"

"Making conversation. I was just thinking about the show," you sign into your laptop. "Just thinking... I mean, how do you even end up there?"

"Bad things. I learned my lesson when I was sixteen. I broke into the high school on a dare and the cops put me in cuffs for two hours. They let me go once I cried... I mean, I was a kid so..."

You nod and try not to show any judgment. That sounds about right. A notification pops up in the corner as Jensen goes back to the fluttering over his keyboard. You click on the email.

'I've been granted call-time at noon. You can call the number below and request by my inmate number...'

You quickly minimize and hide behind your cup as you slurp. Shoot. You didn't think he'd be so fast. A call at noon? You can't say no. Not now that he got approved.

Well, this is the only time it's happening.

[seoulmatez]

The Grove of Epiphany is a beautiful place. Though shrouded in darkness, you've always been able to rely on the stars. They have always been more than enough for you.

You don't mind the people, either — especially one of the seven sages.

"Hey, Anaxa!" you call from the table you've set up. Despite his clear annoyance at your use of his unpreferred and shortened name, he turns to face you. With your deck of cards in hand, you ask, "Care for a reading?"

He eyes you and your card curiously but comes closer to continue your conversation. "I'll never understand why you turned to those cards. You had plenty of potential to make a fine scholar."

You shrug, shuffling your deck. It's not that academia became boring or undesirable, it simply no longer felt like the path you were meant to traverse. You smile at him. "The cards called for me and I followed. So... a reading — how about it?"

"You know I put no stock in fortunes or prophecies." In a direct contradiction to what his words imply, he takes a seat across from you, folding his arms over his chest.

"All the more reason to." Given he hasn't outright denied you, you continue your routine "Practice for me and you won't lose sleep over my meaningless fortunes."

You take his lack of argument as compliance, closing your eyes to block out other stimuli. "Tell us of Anaxa's future." One by one, your hand hovers over three cards that you pull from your spread to arrange in a smaller one of their own. You carefully flip each of them over to reveal their message.

"The Fool, the Lovers, and the Hanged Man — that last one is reversed."

His eye scans over the cards before he looks up to meet your gaze. "And what do you suppose these mean for my future?"

You grin — even interest in the name of debunking is still interest. "Well, the Fool in the upright position suggests new beginnings. Perhaps you'll be going down a new path soon. The Lovers point to union, partnership, and passion — love seems to be on the horizon for you. And the reversed Hanged Man... that one indicates sacrifice. You may feel it necessary in the future."

"How incredibly vague." His gaze bores into you but you don't find it intimidating. "Do your customers really find satisfaction in these readings of yours?"

"Every time," you assure him. "Though, if you're interested, I'd be more than happy to go more into depth for you."

"That won't be necessary." His response is disappointing. He may not be curious about the details but you certainly are. Though, his next words surprise you. "We'll find out soon enough if your fortunes hold any truth."

And with that, he leaves.

[maikelfist]

I've been coming across discussions about why Tommy calls Buck "Evan". The short answer to that question is probably just that the showrunners like using it as a shortcut to create a connection between people. Some may find that cute, others may say it's artificial. Ultimately, it's a matter of opinion.

Some people believe Buck is happy with Tommy calling him Evan because for the first time he gets to be called Evan without any of the baggage attached (which might be a naive and overly romantic take, who knows). Others argue that it's rude for Tommy to call him that, saying he's unaware that Buck prefers his identity as Buck to distance himself from childhood trauma, that it symbolizes that he doesn't really know Buck all that well (and, well, of course he doesn't. That's kind of how getting to know someone works. He literally says they practically know nothing about each other during the coffee date. He's aware, not at all pretending to know Buck better than he does. I also feel that with this take, one should be careful not to take agency away from Buck. I highly doubt he would just let it happen if he minded it).

Here's my opinion on the matter: I think both names are a double-edged sword for Buck. The downside of "Evan" is that it represents his time before he became a firefighter which unfortunately is linked to a traumatic childhood. The upside is that it also represents his softer side, the part of him that isn't just a tough firefighter.

The upside of "Buck" is that it felt like a fresh beginning. Not to mention that it sounds cool, the name of a badass guy, which is definitely something Buck wanted to be in S1 (1x2 "You just have to be particularly badass which, you know, I am."). But the name "Buck" also has its downsides. It's not a name he chose for himself. There were three other Evans in his class and he wasn't the main Evan, the one allowed to keep his name. He didn't even get a variation of it. He tells Maddie about it in a PS with an "I kinda like it." (4x5).

It seems like the nickname originated from him not being the first priority again, which is a pattern that has followed him his entire life. Luckily, it worked out well because he likes what the name symbolizes. To me, Tommy calling Buck "Evan" could represent that Buck is his first priority. He is the one and only Evan for Tommy.

As much as Buck loves being a badass firefighter, he also wants to have an identity and value outside of that role. Buck is badass. Evan is soft. Both are good. Regardless of how things end, Tommy is and will always be the one who made him realize that he's allowed to like both. I'm likely reading too much into it but it’s nice to think that these steps in Buck's journey are linked.

[apomaro-mellow]

Courtship Read on AO3

@stmarchmm prompt: courting rituals

National Geographic Presents: A series that delves into the intricacies of the greater Hawkins pack.

The world is filled with many extraordinary organisms. In today’s program, we shall take a look at a particular community. Indiana is home to many packs. As we zoom into the town of Hawkins, we can see a flurry of activity as spring arrives.

There are as many different courting rituals as there are stars in the sky. But they can all be organized in these categories: song, gift, physical display. As an alpha on the bottom rung of their community, this curly haired young buck will have his work cut out for him. For he has set his sights on the omega of the season. We shall call him, Eddie. And his target? Steve.

What makes a good omega can differ by environment but certain traits are common - a pleasing scent, an affinity for pups, a willingness to submit should a good alpha present themselves. Judging by the group of alphas that are never far from Steve, he has this in droves. An omega may entertain many suitors before deciding on who they want. 

Let us follow Eddie’s path. Should he be unsuccessful, he shall be alone for another mating season. He is a few cycles older than Steve, something that can either be an advantage, or a detriment. Only time will tell. 

In Hawkins, there is no particular order to the courting ritual. But there is a checklist to be marked off if an alpha hopes to be successful. The first that Eddie has completed is a demonstration of his own affinity for pups. While an omega’s care for their pups is held in high regard, alphas are expected to be just as protective of their own. For an unbonded buck, they can best show this with a pack’s communal pups.

In full view of Steve, Eddie play-fights with the pups, baring his teeth but keeping them out of the way for the more vulnerable members of the pack. The fact that he is able to do so under Steve’s watchful eye speaks for itself. An omega won’t let an unattached alpha anywhere near pups in the pack if they didn’t trust them. While Eddie is not related by blood, he is considered pack. We will discuss pack dynamics later in the program, but for now, it is enough to know that Eddie’s foot is already in the door.

Having the omega’s sights turned on him, Eddie goes on to the physical display. The greater Hawkins pack favors feats of strength or coordination. See how this particular alpha, Jason, performs a display on the court. It gets him the admiration of onlookers, but he preens under the attention of the omega he has chosen to court. Take a closer look at her reaction. Chrissy, as she is named, is flushed in the cheeks. There is a slight dilation of the pupils. Scent is not visible, but the reaction to it is. If we note how those surrounding her give her space, it is clear that her scent had changed. And it is wise to give a path from an omega to the object of their arousal. Jason has succeeded in checking off this point. But what of Eddie?

Eddie has chosen a more private arena, that of Steve’s home, rather than a public court for all to see. Compared to Jason, Eddie’s movements are much less coordinated. He has only made half of the shots he has taken. Steve’s cheeks are neither flushed nor are his pupils dilated, though Eddie has almost lost his breath attempting to show his physicality in the form typical of their peer group.

But wait. What is this?

Rather than finding this alpha’s display lacking, Steve has granted him favor. A smile. A kiss on the cheek. Much more than Eddie has received in any of his past seasons. Perhaps Steve appreciates the fact that this demonstration means that Eddie will go beyond his limitations to please his omega, should Steve become his.

Emboldened, Eddie prepares for the next step. Many communities favor a call or song of some kind and Hawkins is no exception. Scientists are still figuring out the evolutionary advantage of the song and why some are favored over others. But preparation begins from a young age. 

A pup will hum a tune heard by its parents, imitating what they know. Steve’s ears have favored upbeat melodies. A typical alpha will use a call that is familiar to the omega of their affections. But Eddie is not a typical alpha. A song can be intimate and this late into the season, an omega can be quite amorous when receptive. It is often prudent to complete the last courtship ritual in private.

But Eddie has chosen a literal stage for his mating call. The weather is warm and for Hawkins, that means many events to take advantage of the weather. For adolescents in the throes of passion, the Spring Fling dance is such an opportunity. Live music is expected at these and it is often an alpha staking a claim. Only time will tell if Eddie’s claim will be successful.

Steve hasn’t rebuffed the alpha’s courtship but nor has he stopped entertaining others. This performance could make or break Eddie’s season. 

He steps to the mic.

He finds Steve in the crowd.

And plays.

Eddie has chosen a rougher, louder sound, one that the others in the audience don’t seem to appreciate, based on their expressions. This doesn’t bode well for his chances. An omega of Steve’s stature will almost always deny an alpha that has been deemed an outcast.

His song has finished. Some give him a perfunctory bout of applause as he exits the stage. It appears that for yet another season, Eddie will remain unmated.

Oh, well now what’s this?

Steve is pushing through the crowd, apparently making a beeline for Eddie. And he’s not only embracing him, but gracing him with a kiss! As Eddie steals him away from prying eyes, it is clear. He won’t be spending this season alone.

Day 2 will be a lil different but stayed tuned for this lil series :3

[monabee-draws]

Character Motivation, Inciting Incidents, and Veilguard Backgrounds

Okay, big title for what will likely be a short post but I hope this draws out some cool idea-generation from the fandom. [Spoiler, it got long and out of hand, apologies.]

One crucial aspect of the origin stories in Dragon Age Origins is that it answers the question "Why the hell is the protagonist out here?" in an incredibly definitive way. None of the warden candidates start out wanting to be a warden. Many of them are full-on coerced into it at the end of their storylines by Duncan, and the choice is taken away from them as part of their narrative. They aren't presented with any other option. This is echoed in both Hawke and the Inquisitor's 'inciting incidents' even if we never see their background play out before the tale begins: Hawke is running from the Blight and not only has to leave home, but is actively corralled into going to Kirkwall and staying there by his deal with Asha'bellanar. There is no other option for them - Carver says so outright ("The Wilds are to the south, that's no way out.") The Inquisitor is faced, similarly to a Warden Tabris, with the threat of being hunted down and killed if they don't accept the protection that comes along with playing Herald. You begin the story in chains, and the condition of your release is effacing yourself to become what the Inquisition needs you to become.

None of these stories offer any kind of meaningful alternative to the direction the protagonist must follow to begin the narrative. If Hawke tries to sell or lose the amulet, it reappears. If someone refuses to drink from the chalice at the Joining, Duncan kills them. The Inquisitor has to play along just long enough to prove their innocence to the wider world, and by that point it's impossible to get out of it.

By contrast, Veilguard assumes Rook wants to be here without offering us any reason for them to be (positive or negative.) Now, I'm sure you want to say 'but their backgrounds!' but please, hear me out first. "Rook is a heroic character, they're a good person who wants to save the world and hey the world needs saving!" is a very 'Guardians of the Galaxy' character motivation: Greg lives in the universe so they would very much like said universe to continue existing. From one perspective, this supports Rook's characterisation as (almost) too selfless. Of course they jump onto the Solas bandwagon with Varric and go off to save the world! They're a hero, that's what heroes do. However, this is true of literally everyone in Thedas (except for some reason the Venatori and Antaam, though I guess they want the world to survive in a very specific way, so.) What makes Rook's heroism special? The lack of ability to insert nuance here harms Rook's 'Realness' as a protagonist. We cannot actively roleplay the kind of motivations that would push someone to travel with strangers away from everything they've ever known in pursuit of quarry they're not even sure they understand (Rook is confused in the introduction about Solas' many names, which I read as poor explanation on Varric and Harding's part of the true nature of their quarry; additionally, Laidir's letter from Isabela implies that Varric hasn't really explained Solas to Rook yet in the 'Six Months Ago' letter.)

Yes, each backstory justifies why Rook cannot go home, but why does Rook go with Varric? This aspect of the story is written around - Varric is there and Rook always cares about him. But why? Why not lay low somewhere until your faction drama blows over? For certain backgrounds leaving isn't even required, just suggested, and you could easily relocate your operations for a little while (GW, SD) or stay home away from work (MW, VJ.) Only a Crow and LoF Rook could reasonably expect to be hunted down and killed even if they laid low, maybe Shadow Dragon at a push. The backgrounds are written in such a way as to justify why Varric might see a spark of good in Rook, but give little to no reason why Rook would consider following that spark to work with Varric. I reiterate here: Taking a hard stance and writing Rook as a heroic character IS FINE, but even heroes have motivation. We as the audience NEED to see that to become invested. Not everyone is willing or able to make things up to fill this gap.

This is why, like many others, I think we should have had the opportunity to play through our origin missions rather than merely reading them in character creation/having information drip fed to us (if you're lucky and play a MW or Crow Rook) or not be expanded upon at all during the game. [Disclaimer: Yes wardens absolutely get the most reactivity but not in a way that explains who Rook was, which wardens they knew or areas they worked in, or anything beyond them knowing Antoine and Evka from before.] Show us how we meet Varric, and why we should care about him. Plenty of Tabris' probably hate Duncan, plenty of Broscas and Aeducans probably love him. But all origins give the player the groundwork to decide how that dynamic is going to play out before the character exits the narrative. So when Duncan haunts it - through Alistair, through Loghain, through Wynne's dialogues about duty and sacrifice and through the Landsmeet decisions - it actively draws out an emotional connection.

Veilguard gets away with handwaving a lot of emotional investment because it trusts players have played at least one game with Varric in it already - and if you have, of course you'd love him and follow him to save the world. It is practically impossible to not be friends with Varric in DA2 and Inquisition (unless you make very erratic, specific decisions on purpose.) Would Rook be any different? But there's the rub - Rook doesn't get to decide if they are any different. There is only one option - to travel with Varric to help stop Solas. But because that is never defined - we never see the lack of alternatives, we are never faced with the Blight or the Wilds - the motivation along this single path never arrives. All Wardens have to stop the Blight. All Hawkes have to survive. All Inquisitors have to become the Herald. But we get to see the moments in which that non-choice is made, and it is a crucial moment to understand who a character is, and what kind of narrative they live in, and why they maintain forward momentum along that path. Rook's story is a hero's story - specifically the kind where they actively decide to be that hero - but we never get to be there when the difficulty of that choice occurs.

All that to say, in the end, that I am deeply curious why YOUR Rook decided to try and save the world. What is their relationship with Varric? With the task at hand? If you had to write the recruitment mission or Inciting Incident to reflect your Rook's morals, beliefs, motivations and relation to Varric, what would it look like? These are big questions I wish we could have played out even basically in Veilguard proper, but I'd still like to know. It's a question I struggle with for all of my Rooks, and there's great fanon out there. It would have been nice to not have to rely on that.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Birthdays ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,950ish

Summary: You know that Logan struggles with dates, so you take on the birthdays. Even if that means ignoring yours.

Warning(s): birthdays, negative self talk

Notes: Please share your thoughts! This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

It didn’t shock you to find out that Logan couldn’t remember his birthday. You didn’t make a big deal of it when the two of you were at the mansion. But now that you two were alone at the cabin, you decided that his birthday was worth celebrating. Though, you couldn’t let Logan know that just yet.

One morning, you and Logan were in the kitchen. He was eating breakfast while you were finishing up packing his lunch.

“Logan?” You questioned.

“Mhm?” He hummed, looking at you as he chewed his food.

“What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“Around 4. I’m gonna try to be home earlier though, to help you with dinner.”

Your heart swelled at Logan’s thoughtfulness. “No rush.”

Logan’s brow quirked up. You were usually more excited to him home and helping you. He studied you as zipped up his lunchbox. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong. In fact, you seemed happy, lighter.

“Is something up, sweetheart?” Logan questioned.

“What?” You replied, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you told be ‘no rush’ in coming home. Do you not want me to come home early?”

“You know I always want you home, Logan.”

“Then maybe I call in sick.”

“Too bad I just packed you a lunch.” You walked over and set it down next to him at the table. You leaned down and kissed his head before taking his plate and mug. “Don’t worry about me, Logan, I’m fine. I promise.”

“You’ve said that before.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m just—“

“No!” You lunged over and knocked the phone from his grip. He looked at you with surprise. “Go to work, please?”

Logan took you by the hips and pulled you into his lap. “What is goin’ on, sweetheart?”

You shook your head. “Just go to work and you’ll see when you come home, okay? I promise it’s nothing bad.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Just let me do something nice for you.”

Logan hummed before stealing another kiss. “Okay. You know that I don’t like surprises, right?”

“But you like my surprises, right?”

“Sweetheart, one of your surprises was that you turn to ash when you die.”

“I came back.”

“Logan chuckled. “Damn right you did.” He gave you another kiss. “Okay. I’ll go to work. But don’t think that I won’t be checking on you frequently today.”

You smiled at him. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

~~~

Logan continued to check on you throughout the day as promised. You answered him quickly and didn’t let it distract you from your work. You cleaned the house thoroughly before decorating it. You had bought a variety of fake candles and placed them all around the house, turning them on so they flickered. You hung up two happy birthday signs: one in the living room and one above your bed. You readied the snacks, desserts, and drinks you had hidden for his birthday; displaying them neatly on the table. You knew that Logan didn’t care for decorations or anything looking fancy, but it still felt good to do something like this for Logan. 

Once Logan told you he was on his way home, you changed into the new lingerie that you had bought for tonight and covered it up with one of Logan’s flannels. You turned off all the nights, allowing the candles to be the only source of light in the house. You bit your lip nervously as you listened for the truck to pull up. You knew that you went a bit over the top, but you were hoping that Logan could still enjoy it. Flames flickered at your fingertips as you heard the truck pull up and Logan exit it.

“Y/N? Honey?” Logan called as he entered the house, curious as to why the lights weren’t on. He took off his boots and hung up his jacket before entering the house further. Logan froze at the entrance to the living room, seeing the sign, candles everywhere, and you standing there in one of his flannels. “Sweetheart? What—? How did you—“

“Happy birthday, James,” you told him with a smile. “I figured that you didn’t remember when it was, so I thought that I would remind you.”

“This is all… for me?”

You giggled. “Well, obviously. Do you… do you like it?”

Logan didn’t answer, instead he rushed towards you and pulled you in for a kiss. You melted into him as he tried to pour all the words he couldn’t say into the kiss. When he broke the kiss, Logan kept you close and rested his forehead against yours.

“This is… the kindness thing anyone has ever done for me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to say… or how to thank you.”

“No, need.” You gave his lips a peck. “I love you, James. Happy birthday.”

Logan smirked as his eyes roamed down your form. He hummed in approval. “Is that my flannel, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Do you like it?”

“I always like seeing you in my clothes.”

“Well, I’m sure that you’ll enjoy what’s under it even more.”

Logan growled as his grip on your hips tightened. “Yeah, honey? And what do you have under there?”

“Why don’t you open your present and find out?”

Logan didn’t waste a second in ripping the flannel off of you and letting it be tossed to the floor. You laughed as he took you in.

“Is this set new?” Logan breathed out, taking in how amazing you looked. “Just for my birthday?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “You like it?”

He picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. You squealed as you laughed. “Let me show you jus how much I like it.”

~~~

Logan was never good with dates. That’s why it didn’t phase him they he didn’t know your birthday until the two of you had been back at the cabin for two years. One of his coworkers had been talking about what he was doing over the weekend for his wife’s birthday and it hit him that he didn’t know when your birthday was. He was angry with himself on his way home as well as confused as to why you hadn’t said anything.

During dinner, you could tell that something was weighing on Logan. 

“Is everything alright, Logan?” You finally asked.

“Yeah, just fine,” he mumbled, focusing on moving his food around the plate.

You nodded, unconvinced. 

~~~

Dinner passed awkwardly and before you knew it, the two of you were getting ready for bed. Logan was still tense and clearly in his head. You laid down and turned to face him as he continued to get ready for the night.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You asked again. “It seems like something’s on your mind.”

Logan sighed as he sat on the bed. “I have a question to ask and it’s going to seem stupid.”

You sat up and moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not as stupid as you think it is.”

“Some guy was talking at work today about how he was celebrating his wife’s birthday over the weekend… And I realized… Fuck, I’m a horrible partner.”

“Logan?”

“I realized that I don’t even remember when your birthday is.”

You tensed. You hadn’t ever wanted to make it a big deal that he didn’t know when your birthday was. You knew that he would feel incredibly guilty about it. Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you sighed.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled against his shoulder. 

“No, it’s not,” he shrugged you off and stood up. Logan turned to face you and you could see that his shoulders were slumped. His hand ran through his hair. “I should know your birthday! We’ve been together for years now and years before everything happened. I should know your damn birthday!”

“Logan, it’s okay that you don’t.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.” You could tell that he was serious about this and very much angry at himself. He huffed. “I’m going to go sleep on the couch.”

“No!” You reached out for his wrist but he pulled away. “Logan—“

“I just need a night.”

Then Logan left the room, shutting the door behind him. You sighed, tears pricking your eyes. You knew that it would only make things worse now if you chased after him, so you didn’t. But you also knew that it was hard to sleep without him. You slipped on one of his t-shirts and curled up on his side of the bed, trying to find comfort in the lingering smell on his pillow. A few tears slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to fall asleep without Logan.

~~~

Logan didn’t get much sleep. He hated that he didn’t remember the important things, like your birthday, and that he walked out of the room tonight. He couldn’t sleep without you and he knew that you struggled to do the same. By the time dawn was breaking, Logan couldn’t handle being away from you anymore. He slipped into the bedroom, his heart breaking a little to see you curled up with his pillow and one of his shirts on. Logan crawled over to you and pulled you into him.

“Logan?” You mumbled, barely waking.

He kissed your cheek. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart… I’m right here… I’m sorry for not sleeping in the bed.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

You sighed, pushing yourself further into him. “It’s not all on you… I could’ve told you when my birthday was. I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Anything involving you is a big deal to me, honey.”

You smiled. “So, you won’t freak out when I say my birthday was last week.” Logan tightened his grip on you. “I’m sorry. I should have told you but I was fine just having a regular day with you.”

“You shoulda told me,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.” You turned your head to try to look at him. “Forgive me?”

He pecked your lips. “Always.”

~~~

The day went on like normal, with you and Logan having breakfast and doing chores around the cabin. When the afternoon came around, you stayed home while Logan went into town for a few errands. Logan came back a few hours later with your need groceries, a bouquet of flowers and a small wrapped gift.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he set the groceries on the counter and handed you the flowers.

“They’re beautiful, Logan,” you commented. “What are they for?”

“Happy late birthday.”

“Logan, you didn’t have—“

“I did because I love you and I’m never going to let another one of your birthdays pass without me doin’ something for you. Here.” He handed you the small wrapped gift. “It’s nothing much but…”

You set down the flowers and carefully unwrapped the gift. You bit your lip at the photo inside. It was a rare photo of you and Logan together at the mansion, that you had never seen before. The two of you were standing on the balcony, arms wrapped around each other, with Logan pressing a kiss to your forehead. You don’t know who caught this moment on camera, but you would be forever grateful for it.

Logan stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Do you like it?”

“Logan,” you breathed out, growing emotional, “I love it.” You set the gift down and wrapped your arms around his neck. “This is the best birthday present I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

“I wish I could do more. Next year—“

You shook your head. “I don’t need anything more. I just need you.”

[matts-girlfriend]

Breakfast In Bed - Matt Sturniolo 2

Part 1

this is the final part to breakfast in bed. read part one before reading this one!

wc: 1266

(english isn’t my first language)

this song inspired this part.

Warnings: angst, smoking, drinking, mentions of being intoxicated, happy ending :)

It had been about two months since the breakup, and I think I had finally come to terms with it. I never thought I’d live my life without Matt, but I couldn’t keep forcing it on myself anymore.

I was out with my friend Mya at one of Nate’s parties. Nate was the only one who still talked to the triplets after they moved. It was crazy to me that they chose to keep in contact with him but left me behind. My thoughts didn’t last long, though, because Nate walked up to me.

“You drinking tonight?” he asked, holding his near-empty cup close to his chest.

“Maybe. I still don’t know if I’m driving home or if Mya is,” I replied, trying my best to make conversation.

“Well, at least smoke this with me, yeah?” he offered, holding up a poorly rolled joint—so bad I almost laughed.

“Did you roll that shit yourself?” I asked, biting back a smile.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Shh, don’t be a kill. And I’m telling you, you’re not gonna wanna be sober tonight,” he said, dragging out the “r” in sober.

I raised an eyebrow but caved, following him outside to the backyard. I lit up the spliff, staring out into the front yard.

We sat there for a while, taking turns hitting the spliff, making easy conversation. It felt natural, like any other night—until Nate turned to me, his expression shifting, a little more serious this time.

“Would you ever get back with Matt?” Nate asked randomly, taking a hit.

His name sent goosebumps down my arms. I cleared my throat, trying to figure out how to respond. “I don’t know.”

Nate hummed in response, passing the joint back. “I think you should talk to him.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You think I didn’t try? He left me without a second thought—for his career.” My voice faltered at the end.

“I’m just saying, maybe he had a reason, Y/N. I know you’re hurt, believe me, but I don’t think he’d leave you without—”

I cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Look, Nate, I don’t care. He made his choice. He decided to leave. He wanted this for his career. He took everything we had and let it go, so for fuck’s sake, just stop bringing it up. I don’t wanna talk about it, and I don’t wanna hear his name again.”

“Whose name again?”

I turned around to see Mya, clearly drunk, leaning against the backyard door.

“Matt,” Nate answered.

Mya scoffed in disgust. “God, that kid. Don’t bring him up. What’s crazier is I just saw him inside, standing with Chris and Nick, talking to Madi.”

I blanked out.

He’s here? Why is he here? Did Nate know? Oh my god, this was a setup.

I whipped around to Nate. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me he would be here,” I snapped, standing up and tossing the spliff to the ground.

“Hey, I told you that you wouldn’t wanna be sober tonight. You should’ve guessed it, Y/N,” he said, voice innocent—too innocent. “And maybe this is your chance to talk and fix things.”

I didn’t listen. I just turned and rushed back inside, pushing through the crowd and heading upstairs to grab my purse from Nate’s room so I could leave. But when I pushed open the door, he was already there.

Matt.

Seeing his face after two months made my stomach flip. I almost lost my balance.

“Y/N,” he said.

I ignored him, marching inside to grab my purse. I turned to leave.

“Y/N, please—wait. Let me talk to you.”

The second his hand touched mine, I felt it—goosebumps. I immediately ripped my hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I muttered, voice unsteady.

“Five minutes. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Just five minutes.”

I scoffed, eyes burning. “Like how you gave me five seconds to read the text before you blocked me? Before I even had a chance to respond?” I poked a finger into his chest, my voice cracking, a single tear slipping down my cheek before I even realized it was there.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” His voice was raw, desperate. “I should’ve never sent that text. I should’ve never blocked you before you could respond. I should’ve never left you. But you were never not enough.”

He hesitated before lifting his hand, gently wiping the tear from my face. I flinched back.

I swallowed hard, staring at him—hurt, confused, and still so full of love. “Why, Matt? Why’d you leave? Why didn’t you at least tell me this in person? Why didn’t you reach out?” My voice broke as more tears fell.

He exhaled shakily. “I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t wait for me when I moved away. That you’d get tired of long distance. That you’d find someone better.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “So you decided to leave me high and dry with a fucking text because you were scared of losing me?”

“I’m so undeniably sorry.” His voice wavered. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined everything. But I never stopped loving you. Even sending that text, I still loved you so much. And I know it was so incredibly stupid of me. But if you just give me one more chance to show you how sorry I am—how much I love you—I swear, I’ll never make you regret it.”

He reached out, holding my hands.

I swallowed hard. “How can I trust you, Matt?”

“You don’t have to trust me right away,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. I want this more than anything. I love you more than anything. And I can’t live with thinking I lost you because I was an idiot. Please, give me this chance.”

“Promise me you’ll stay this time. Promise me you won’t make me look stupid again.”

Matt let go of my hands, lifting his to cup my face. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “I promise, on everything I love, that I will never make that choice again. I will never hurt you again, Y/N.”

“One chance, Matt. And I swear to god, if you make me look stupid again, I will personally beat your ass.”

For the first time that night, Matt let out a small, amused smile before pulling me into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“That’s all I need,” he murmured. “I promise I won’t hurt you again.”

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in a silence that, for once, didn’t feel heavy.

“Did Nate know you were gonna talk to me?” I finally asked, my voice quieter.

Matt laughed, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Why do you think he threw this half-ass excuse of a party?”

I shook my head, letting out a breathy laugh. Then, for the first time in two months, I really looked at him—how close he was, how familiar it all still felt.

Matt hesitated before leaning in. “Can I kiss you?”

I nodded.

He smiled softly before closing the distance. The kiss wasn’t desperate, wasn’t hungry—it was real. It was pure. It was love.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. “I’m never losing you again.”

And for the first time in two months, I felt at peace again.

a/n: sorry if this is a little choppy, i’m still new to writting and i was trying my best to match the plot and still add new people into the story with out making it messy.

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws )

taglist:@jcsturniolo11 @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @crazbubs @poolover123

[smylenol]

It’s just how it is. I’m not really allowed to live here if I give the neighbourhood or city a bad name. Soooooo.. that means.. a lot of frivolous explaining and sulking and backpedaling, a lot of shame and pity..

Backfiring and sputtering and..

..nnnyeheh.

For an example, a long while ago, I gave Disney Pixar a bad name of sorts. Said I “wanted to be more Up than Pixar”, and it was in reference to a swollen whosamawhatsit between the legs. Wasn’t very clean or nice.

Then.. Winning Card happened, and I was able to reframe it all thanks to that scene with The Joker and a child sitting on a park bench in the rain, and there’s a red balloon in his hand, with them sitting apart at a safe distance.

I memory-spammed all throughout my childhood and what the heartbreaking scenes of Up are, and..

..yes, well.. I have many reasons to never smile again. Of course I’m.. ashamed and thought I could make a sick cruel sex joke out of a beloved childhood experience of many.

Some fellow was extremely kind to me this morning, while I was looking around my usual tobacco and ganja scrounging spots. (No, I’m not much of a stalwart face character, following in my footsteps precisely will potentially see you unluckier than I)

The other day I had my leg extended while I trashcan dived for smokable provisions, and was growl-howling for someone to disconnect my Achilles tendon, so I could finally find a permanent soothing rest. I can’t remember if that was the same day that I psychotically raised my voice to my social worker when they called to make a house call for a check-up..

I guess there’s treasure everywhere. If you can call some of this treasure.. S’pose it keeps me keeping along.

Anyways, a fellow today saw me trash can diving and felt compelled enough to offer their two last smokes in their pack. I may never see them again to repay the favour, but it has me mostly convinced that there’s good and kind people that comprise these city streets. Visitors, residents, tourists, escapists, artists, and travel survivors.

……sometimes .. very exceedingly infrequently.. I ask for a cigarette here and there, but I know how pricey tobacco is, and I’ve been certainly nuisance enough. Haven’t I? I just move to a new city and go “Hee Hee Hee HOHoHOHo guffawhawhaw Waitaminute .. what is that?”

I don’t know what I’m doing today, dear readers. Refraining from fights, keeping from poor manners, staying from emotionally confining in any way..

Yes, good good, who is Tobey, maybe someone cares, I don’t expect anybody to. (I know, you don’t really need a filter to look and write like a prize. Buh-ha-ha-ha.)

Long as I don’t open my wrists, Daniel Larson myself, and keep a good mental vigilance over where vice and virtue go, I shouldn’t be a problem.

Juh-heezus

I’m so ready to be shot and beaten and cancelled and me-too’d and spit at and thrown about and all that stuff that apparently makes me brave in the face of paranoid schizophrenia.

I wonder, do people really have it in their heads that I just want to lure and then sex it out? Maybe I set myself up for this fall. The “Jokerotic”, hm? *snort* I’m a pissant if you really think I just want a romp in the sheets with.. anyone, really. One of my mental processes is doing away with the libido, all the time.. Of course there’s grown women I’d be attracted to, but I enjoy myself a little more as a femscary clown boy.. while I’m still breathing.

Ew. This Rocksteady Arkham hair. Then again, it helps with escaping cruel and forceful reality..

Now for you and yours, I open the floor towards your discussing what The Solitaire Mystery means and the twisting of freedoms that end in depressive and melancholic experiences.

[butch-bakugo]

Why are vetted accounts sending people stuff like this.

I mean it's clearly copy-pasted and sent to multiple people but this isn't even a donations ask. Imma guess the reason people aren't responding is because you're accusing them of not doing enough for Palestine and sending it to multiple people who you clearly don't check because I've been posting about and for Palestine since oct 7th when I learned about it.

Also yes he is looking for donations, you can check his account and find it. Why are you sending this guilt trippy stuff to people and accusing them of not caring enough? You don't know me? You send these to multiple people so your clearly not checking the account in question. This dose nothing to help you personally or the Palestinian cause, it just pisses people off and makes them question vetters.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[theprinceandthewitch]

[kindlythevoid]

Which part of Lord of the Rings is your favourit?

Oh! Where do I begin!?

When I was young, really young, I’d have to say my favorite was reading about Sam defeating Shelob, as an elementary schooler who was deathly afraid of spiders.

Then I got a little bit older and my favorite part was Eowyn. I was too young to fully grasp her character arc, so at the time I just thought it was really cool seeing a woman swing a sword and win. (I dressed up as her for Halloween!)

Maybe a year after that, when I started writing my chapters a little longer, my characters a little darker, because I thought it was fun and interesting, my favorite chapter was the Scouring of the Shire. (Scourging? Scouring? Apparently I can never get it right, ha ha!)

Tom Bombadil was definitely my favorite at… some point? I mean, it’s Tom Bombadil!

But what is my favorite part in Lord of the Rings? Why do I read and read and read these books and watch the movies over and over? Well, I’m afraid I can’t say it succinctly.

My favorite part…

Every time I read Lord of the Rings I come across my new favorite part, my new favorite character. I forget the little nuances each year and discover something new every time, every time.

The Talking Fox that shows up for a thought and then is whisked away.

Beregond and Bergil, who take Pippin under their wing in Gondor when Faramir and Denethor and Gandalf are busy.

Boromir, poor Boromir, who I’ve finally come to understand after all these years.

I love the snark of Bilbo in his notes to relatives, I love Frodo's inability to leave the Shire and his friends' inability to leave him. I love meeting Strider, not Aragorn, I love the quietness of Rivendell, I love how the Fellowship grows and interacts with each other. I love Boromir's short arc, I love the Three Hunters, I love the slow, deep thoughtfulness of Treebeard. I love Frodo's strength and hopeless hope, I love Sam's grounded nature and determination, I love every single poem and song that is thrown in there just because it can be. I love Faramir's wit, I love Gollum's complaining.

And I haven't even gotten to Return of the King.

In short (TL;DR), I discover my new favorite part every time I open up the book. Perhaps I'll be able to give you a better answer when I finish it again next year. :)