#and i have absolutely no memory of it whatsoever??

[good-to-drive]

I just remembered that I've seen all of Modern Family and it was honestly kind of a shock. I can remember thinking the writing was excellent but I honestly cannot remember a single thing about that show. Not a single plot or character has stuck in my mind in a meaningful way. I remember that they were well-crafted and entertaining, I do not remember them. That show is just a white vacancy in my brain with "tightly written, clever" stamped on top.

[mekatrio]

yeah see, it's luke at the ending. left-handed scabbard. if it was asch he'd have the sword on his right hip. asch is the maladaptive path that leads to destruction, luke is the path of Light that leads to wisdom. that's my take at least

inchresting... ill be honest i keep flip flopping over who i think it is like at first i was like its asch then AHHH its Both its NEITHER maybe its Lorelei? or Luke.... and rn im like. i dunno. but luke is the one i think its the most unlikely for it to be cuz jades face in the ending to me is one of grief not joy. or if it is "luke" its not the same luke that we knew..

[dutybcrne]

Thunderings are happening, my brain has funneled off into hcs mode

[ace-din-djarin]

For the ask game: 💛 and 🏳️‍🌈

Ooh thank you!

(I’m paraphrasing these but I think I got the gist)

💛: what is a popular ship you just can’t get behind and why?

- hmm. Most of the time if a fic is well written and convincing I’ll be fine with whatever ship they have. But in popular media…. Matt Murdock / Karen Page from Daredevil (TV) is a ship I’m not super into (I don’t know how popular it is, tbh). I think Matt and Karen make wonderful friends and I *love* their friendship, but I just don’t see them working together romantically.

🏳️‍🌈: what is a character popularly headcanoned as queer that you just don’t think is queer?

- I’m having a very hard time thinking of one right now!! I know there have been some…. but currently it’s as if my brain has utterly abandoned me 😅 maybe Han Solo? Again, I don’t know if he counts as “popularly” headcanoned as queer but I just. That man is utterly straight. Idk if it’s Harrison Ford or what but I get no queer vibes whatsoever. Absolutely no shade or hate or anything to people who do ship him in queer relationships though ofc!!!

[tiny-cloud-of-flowers]

🎤 with Zero!!!

Thank you so much for sending this, friend!!

(source: this post by sosawl)

send me a 🎤and I'll attempt to voice act one of my F/Os, either using a canon line or a custom line you provide to me - of course it had to be this bit (it's from 6.4 but nothing about it is spoilery)

I cannot match her intensity here, I apologise. But it was fun to try! Even if I nearly headbutted my laptop in the process by trying to copy the movement she does at my desk and leaning in too far. Here is the actual line from a video I found online.

I hope that this was alright! Thank you very much again for taking the time to send this in, it really means a lot~

[belleandsaintsebastian]

thinking back to last year + remembering just. how miserable i was like as painful as uni exam season is at least i'm not doing atar anymore....

[fingertipsmp3]

I love when I'm actually trying to submit an assignment for once and moodle won't fucking load

[gummiix]

The thing about anonymous asks for me is that….. I always forget that I send them. Like I’ll send one randomly, and then if it’s to an active blog they could respond to it days or weeks later, and likely soon be buried under a bunch of other posts (understandable, I’m not upset about this). However this often means that by the time I see it I can’t even remember if that’s me. Sometimes I’ll be really almost 60% confident that one of the anon asks are me, but uh…. Then sometimes I look and see that it’s not (deactivated account or they owned up to the ask etc.) so it’s very confusing. Sometimes I WILL rmember, but it’s still very easy to overthink about. Uh.

I wish that even with anon asks your blog would still get privately notified about it, like “___ answered your anon ask” that would be pretty cool.

[emphistic]

Bf!Sukuna who refused to look at the Solar Eclipse with safety glasses on, because he thinks he's built different

Bf!Sukuna who kisses the back of your hand in the most random moments

Bf!Sukuna who loves your personal space just as much as you, to the point it could even be called yours and his

Bf!Sukuna who touches your butt out of the blue, and not even in a sexual way

you could be standing somewhere and he just comes up behind you and rubs and squeezes and caresses your ass like it's his own fidget toy, regardless of who's near

sometimes you even have to remind him you two are in public

Bf!Sukuna who flirts with you nonstop, whether he's aware of his actions or not

this man could continue going on about how good you are to him even if there was a gun to his head

you can't count with ten fingers how many times you've had to slap a hand over Sukuna's mouth in order for him shut up whilst people just stare at how casually he speaks obscenities

Bf!Sukuna who rests his chin atop your head while you cook, with his arms wrapped around your waist

Bf!Sukuna who is absolutely oblivious to people who hit on him; his brain only registers those people as mere nuisances and his replies are always just him trying to make them leave

"Heyy, Sukuna. You know, I was just wondering. You always smell so good; what do you use?"

"It's called Leave Me the Fu-cologne." (leave me the fuck alone.)

Bf!Sukuna who is beyond fed up with the amount of little boys who come up to you while you're both waiting to pick up Yuuji from pre-school

Bf!Sukuna who gets sent to sleep on the couch after slapping your ass one too many times

he always comes crawling back, though, peppering your face in kisses and offering apologies he doesn't mean whatsoever

Bf!Sukuna who has the absolute dirtiest mouth

you two could be in the middle of a casual conversation and then he'll randomly blurt out how good you felt during bed last night

it's also not an uncommon occurrence for him to randomly text you sex positions and toys he wants to try out

Bf!Sukuna who has an album on his phone containing pictures and memories the two of you have shared throughout your relationship

he plans to have it play on a big screen as a slideshow during your future wedding reception, but he'll never admit that unless he wanted you to know how much of a sap he truly was

[dreaming-medium]

No Contact

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags: ANGST with a happy ending, amnesia, memory loss, grief, pining, yearning, hurt/comfort

Summary: It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen. You weren't supposed to be in that car, but you were. When you lose your memories from the incident, Chan is ordered to stay away for your recovery's sake; but it takes a larger toll on him than anyone could have imagined. Until one day, he just can't take it anymore.

A/N: inspired by this post. Angst ahoy <3 I had too much fun writing this. Maybe I like writing emotions. Enjoy <3

—————————————————————

No contact. That’s what Chan was told was best for you. That’s what was going to help your healing process. 

No contact whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no little surprise visits. No fucking contact. None. 

He was told it would just hurt you if he talked to you— that he would just make it worse. That you would only become more confused and upset. It would be absolutely detrimental for him to see you.

Hell, it might even make you worse. 

It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward. 

But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star. 

It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?

You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did. 

He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party. 

He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.

But he wasn’t. 

A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.

Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle. 

For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.

He was the last to know. 

After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.

Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup. 

Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup? 

You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible. 

It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup. 

Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing. 

Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out. 

He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn… 

He never got to see you. 

“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?

“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”

A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”

Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped. 

Does that mean…?

No…

“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“

The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”

Chan was suddenly in a chair. 

When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.  

“It’s not forever, son.”

Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.

Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.

He gets it now. 

The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly. 

Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.

Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?

Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?

“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”

It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort. 

You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.

It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him. 

Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them. 

God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.

How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?

5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift. 

He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to. 

Mice would get to it before you did. 

His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin. 

All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.

It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved. 

Just like him.

It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces. 

He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time. 

Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.

Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of. 

Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together. 

There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his. 

You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM. 

This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return. 

It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much. 

Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now? 

Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before. 

Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago. 

You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you. 

To him too. 

It’s the library where he first met you. 

The same library Chan finds himself in front of now. 

He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside. 

Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working. 

Absolutely not. 

The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful. 

There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet. 

Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were. 

His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves. 

There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it. 

On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face. 

Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option. 

When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head. 

Your eyes met. He was a goner. 

How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you. 

Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.

Maybe you’re not working today? 

No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere. 

Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway. 

He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here. 

His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time. 

Empty. 

You-less. 

If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

What a moment. 

Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?

He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio. 

Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.

“Can I help you find something?”

His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone. 

Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch. 

His throat immediately tightens. 

There you are. You. Beautiful you. 

Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger. 

“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?

You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something. 

Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”

No.

“Yeah.”

You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”

He knows. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin. 

Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows. 

You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”

Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug. 

He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.

But—

“If you need anything, let me know.”

You start to walk away.

Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please. 

His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!

“W-Wait!” he says quickly. 

You turn around with a curious look. 

“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”

He knows. You collect different translations of it. 

“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”

With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics. 

He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months. 

You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies. 

Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you. 

The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day. 

Y/N, please. 

“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book. 

Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry. 

“Thank you,” he whispers back. 

You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower. 

From foot to foot, your weight shifts. 

You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?

“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”

It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you. 

You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them. 

Y/N, please. 

“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck! 

Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world. 

Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite. 

He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks. 

He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow. 

Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it. 

He knows everything. 

“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained. 

You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?

“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”

Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes. 

“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out. 

Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments. 

After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper. 

“Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”

Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you. 

Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”

Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him. 

Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in. 

Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.

“Chan,” he answers softly. 

“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him. 

Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.

“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth. 

“You too, Chan.”

And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus. 

—————————————————————

A bad idea was going into the library that day. 

An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going. 

And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him. 

And the worst part? You said yes. 

So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date. 

How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how. 

Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings. 

His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother. 

“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything. 

“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone. 

“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous. 

“How are you? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”

Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth. 

“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”

His jaw clenches. Now or never. 

“It’s with me,” he blurts. 

Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth. 

“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”

He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you. 

“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself. 

“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused. 

She’s right. What if you don’t? 

“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”

Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”

—————————————————————

“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table. 

Yes, you have. 

“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water. 

“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”

He looks back down at the old menu. 

This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town. 

The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late. 

“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu. 

He’s more nervous now than on the first date. 

“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile. 

A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”

It was your favorite. 

“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu. 

His eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“‘Cause of your allergy.”

He stops. 

You stop. 

He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy. 

His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”

Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”

You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”

He definitely did not say something. 

Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before. 

The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.  

You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe. 

A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you. 

Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks. 

You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully. 

“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”

He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused? 

“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you? 

“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick. 

Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?

“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”

He licks his lips and opens his mouth. 

Your phone rings. 

A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest. 

Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”

“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock. 

A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet. 

“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”

Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance. 

—————————————————————

It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park. 

“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”

You already have. 

“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket. 

“Changbin sounds like a blast.”

He was your favorite before.

“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”

And you have. 

A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation. 

Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it. 

With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side. 

You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.

“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings. 

Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours. 

The brightest smile stretches over your face. 

God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.

He can’t help it.

He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk. 

“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”

Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now. 

“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”

“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”

Another laugh from you. 

“Shameless flirt.”

He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you. 

Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe. 

It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago. 

He wants to kiss you so bad. 

Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?

Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop. 

“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin. 

Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident. 

It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago. 

The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features. 

Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch. 

His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up. 

Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that. 

You’re always so enchanting.

Is this a good idea? 

Is kissing you the best option? 

But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?

Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop. 

One look into your eyes quells that anxiety. 

Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.

But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach. 

He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers. 

It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t. 

He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips. 

But he is. 

He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss. 

How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time. 

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers. 

Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again. 

Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose. 

God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good. 

His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer. 

He immediately stops. 

Why is your face wet?

Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression. 

You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?

Your eyes open and you look at him confused. 

“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?

“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.

Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears. 

“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”

Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused. 

Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window. 

Every muscle in your face is twitching.

What’s happening?

“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob. 

Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident. 

Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?

Please. 

Slowly, your hand falls from his. 

Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.

Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own. 

“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time. 

He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore. 

But you do.

“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“ 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You know him. 

“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”

Chan. Not Channie. 

He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”

His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation. 

Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs. 

“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”

Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over. 

The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you. 

You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.

“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”

You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared. 

“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”

Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. 

“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.” 

How is your voice so even?

Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him. 

“I—“ he starts but you cut him off. 

“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.

“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest. 

More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow. 

“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”

Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest. 

Him. You’re talking about him. 

Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying. 

Nothing has ever hurt this bad. 

You know him. You just don’t know it’s him. 

Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”

Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it. 

You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest. 

That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter. 

“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”

A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling. 

A sob tears from his throat. 

You grip his hand tighter. 

“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat. 

“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”

Oh, god, Y/N.

“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”

He breaks. 

He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest. The emotions that were being kept at bay come out like a raging storm. 

He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you. 

Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist. 

Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.  

Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out. 

You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. 

Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it. 

Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you. 

“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”

Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”

Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” 

Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”

Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs. 

Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face. 

“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Channie. You called him Channie.

He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair. 

You’re still crying. Both of you are. 

“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest. 

All he can do is cry. 

Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night. 

The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over. 

Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.

You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong. 

“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.

“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”

He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently. 

“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”

Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you. 

"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."

His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.

The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.

It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.

But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.

The burn is soothed.

“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We’re lucky— in a way.”

His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”

“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”

Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws. 

You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it. 

His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle 

“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”

“I don’t ever want to, Channie. I never will.”

[buffskeleton]

from what i recall my rankings for the seasons back in the day was 2, 4, 1, 5, 3 and ive been completely correct so far so at least there's that!

[dear-tortured-adam]

❝ 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩-𝐢𝐬𝐡 ❞ Ver 3

╰┈➤ LOVE ME DESPITE IT ALL? | HEADCANON POST

question : "Does this get tiring...?" AKA nondateables seeing their beloved sheep... as a human!

part.s : demon brothers | triworlds | nondateables

pairing.s : Thirteen x MC, Mephistopheles x MC, Raphael x MC [all separately] + a suprise guest

note.s : That took longer than I expected. Seriously, this week felt like such a rollercoaster ride that I didn't think I'd be able to finish this in time— but here we are!!

Fair warning that I have no notes on Raphael whatsoever. I am purely basing these off of interactions that I recall at the top of my head; consider this as another practice round :"DD

Anyhow, hope you enjoy the conclusion to this trilogy! ^^

The sheep's curse returns.

It's been so long, why MUST it happen NOW!? After your family getaway to the human world, no less. Back to square one: memory loss and stubby legs. Everyone came to your aid, albeit more protective than before due to circumstances. New people? New People! You have bonded with them after a while, and while most weren't too overjoyed, you'd say it was an enjoyable-

Oh my for goodness' sake-

The all too familiar poof arises again. But, was it just you or did it hurt than the last- ahh.. You placed your palm to your forehead. Hurts. It fucking hurts. With one eye open, you try and ask for help to maybe Lucifer or- Oh right, they're also in this room.

THIRTEEN ; "Awww!!"

Thirteen is very supportive.

Hm? She stans you all the way, one of your biggest fans! This privilege will surely seal the deal!

Another fangirl added to your roster. You have piqued her interest at the sight of your adorably special soul but-

Girly runs up to you and pulls you in a tight embrace.

Thirteen is absolutely GUSHING over how you look. That hair? adorbs! Any tattoos? Cuties!! More, more, more!!

What's got our reaper even more excited was your soul! Well, so the curse also managed to hide your soul- not literally though it slightly hindered its view.

The first instance she went to check on your soul, Thirteen noticed the white glowing light emitting like dispersed shockwaves; urging to be released to its full glory.

And to FINALLY inspect it with no obstacles? She was beyond thrilled.

Although, she does feel kind of bummed out about it, to be honest.

Thirteen had spent eons crafting and perfecting specialized traps and pranks for the little sheep. Seriously, do you have ANY idea how long it takes to get the measurements right?

Hmph! now she has nothing to use them for!!

It didn't matter how frickin' shorter you are than all of them, you still aren't plushie sheep size!

Hmm.. maybe she should instead use this as an opportunity to conduct larger-scale traps... though that wouldn't just be suited for you.

Unless...

Hey hey human, get ready! Once she gets you, she's got you.

MEPHISTOPHELES ; "So THIS is the human?"

Pft- the nobleman scoffs.

He has seen far greater escapades than the sight beholding his very eyes at the moment.

It's really no outstanding feat.

Truly.

As much as he wishes to brush this aside as yet another antic done by the human, you know that he will never escape it.

You know he will be thinking plentiful of it — though not in any particular light [yet]

You see, this transformation will become the next talk of the school for weeks. By cursed virtue, it felt mandatory to handle this topic and present its own article.

Unfortunately for Mephistopheles, it meant all who are part of the Newspaper Club would constantly observe; asking you questions to publish this latest issue.

Why must he care? Sure publication is necessary for the RAD archives yet he didn't have to think about you.

He shouldn't have to think about you.

Yet there he sat, scribbling through the papers on his desk to get your physical description as accurate as possible. A good headline may do? "The Tiny Lamb Turns Human!" — no. That's not read-worthy enough.

The last time he was ever like this was describing Lord Diavolo's newest outfit during one of the many balls he'd host back in the day. That article reached headlines as people exchange opinions on this "newest fashion trend".

Did he really pay this much attention to your appearance? You? An otherwise useless mound of flesh that's got everyone's attention?

"What did Diavolo see in you?" — whatever it may be, it made sense.

It should make sense. He trusts Diavolo's word for it, and he quotes: "the prettiest human to ever grace this land."

RAPHAEL ; "..."

...? Huh.

Raphael was very curious. It dates back to the first time he encountered you.

Frankly, at the time he had to look down to the ground as he didn't know humans could be so. . .

Short.

But now that the curse had once again faded away [perhaps], he tries to understand what all the others were fussing on about you.

His eyes peer over your form, taking in each and every detail. He has a sharp eye, though once you take a glance at him, you feel as if he's trying to memorize your form.

Don't get too appalled, he does not have a disappointed look on his face.

As much as he's observing, Raphael won't comment on anything. Positive, Negative, none at all — he just stood there quietly. He lets other people do the talking for him.

That doesn't mean he won't give a comment or two asking if you're alright... Well, your face was indeed contorted in horror for a few seconds before you felt the traumatic headache building up once more.

He never understood how people's eyes seem drawn toward your direction. He thought that it almost looked like their eyes were permanently glued onto you.

Well at first he assumed that it's with how cute you were. Luke and Simeon constantly talk about it over at Purgatory Hall, paired with Solomon gushing about his "adorable apprentice" like an overproud mentor.

Now? Raphael sees himself fallen victim.

Ah. You got him.

Hm? Oh! A message from heaven?

MICHAEL ; "Surprise Surprise.."

Such an adorable little sheep. . .

You didn't know—no one did—but Michael had been observing everything up from the top of the Celestial Realm.

He wouldn't say he was curious, but more or less intrigued by the idea of what you looked like. All he received was a glimpse of one of the many chaotic instances that you got yourself into.

Oh my, it was a delight.

A small chuckle escaped Michael's lips. With a snap of the finger, the cloud within the orb dissipates, gone from within the crystal dome.

If you ever meet in the far distant future, Michael has exactly one question prepared for you.

Human, what have you done to them?

A/N: and that's a wrap! Now the Michael thingy was just a bit of a silly idea and to be clear I have not yet played Lessons 40+ of NB so I have no idea what goes there- so that last part is purely for the feels ;v; There won't be a part 4 or further continuation for "Feeling Sheep-ish", so what comes after is now up to the reader's interpretation. Would also like to add that my schedule will be taking a toll for the next few months, so there will be an update in the rules. And this will be the last you will see of this formatting because I'm updating this blog's theme- but hey, now it's series exclusive! How about it? That's all and stay safe whenever and wherever you are ! !

divider/s by @/cafekitsune | artwork by NTT Solmare

[genderqueerdykes]

What if using the pronouns for someone is a trigger for me? I've tried to work on it in the past with my therapist, but we made little progress on this particular issue in two years and I'm starting to run out of money for therapy. Should I just avoid people who use the pronouns?

no? do you understand how absolutely off the walls that is? that's literally NOT how you heal from trauma- this is the EXACT opposite of that. what, should trans people with she/her or he/him trauma avoid every single person they encounter who use he or she from here on out?

why are you even talking to me to begin with? i use it/its pronouns only.

alright FUCK THIS. not being overly nice for this one, this is absolutely vile and fucking personal at this stage. look i have very severe PTSD and i am sick and TIRED of people using their OWN trauma as an excuse to MISGENDER OTHER PEOPLE:

YOU ARE PERPETUATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE WHETHER OR NOT YOU REALIZE IT.

you will NEVER have the excuse to refuse to properly gender someone because YOU have some type of trauma. that fucking sucks that you have trauma but that is NOBODY'S burden to bear but yours and NOBODY is misgendering YOU on purpose for it. you CAN and WILL get over triggers if you actually try. you have to put in a lot of effort. you have to understand that calling SOMEONE ELSE BY THEIR CORRECT PRONOUNS IS NOT YOU GETTING MISGENDERED.

YOU are NOT being misgendered by referring to someone else by their CORRECT pronouns. you HAVE to get the fuck over it and STOP making someone else's pronouns about yourself.

seriously, re-read this question and ask yourself is that even a remotely healthy sounding line of thinking? do you seriously think it's okay for men who have been abused by a lot of women to incorrectly refer to women and pathologically avoid them? do you seriously think it's okay for women who have been abused by a lot of men to misgender every man they come across and pathologically avoid men for the rest of their lives?

honestly, how hard have you even tried to work on this? be serious with yourself. you can say you worked on it, but have you? go the fuck back to therapy, you're not done yet. i don't know how to tell you GIVING UP is not the correct way to go about this. therapy can take years and DECADES you can't just INSTANTLY give the fuck up because it brings back upsetting memories. you HAVE to care about other people's feelings, you can't prioritize yourself in ever single situation on planet earth. you can't. trauma can and does make people do selfish, abusive, manipulative things. you are NOT incapable of abusing others just because you have trauma. you don't deserve to be coddled just because you have trauma.

if you can't see it/its users as people who deserve respect and deserve to be referred to correctly, you are projecting your own trauma about your own feelings on these pronouns on to complete and total fucking strangers and that is nobody's problem but yours. that needs to be worked on fucking ASAP. absolutely un-fucking-real. i'm a person and i hate it that you just do not see it/its users as people, but instead roadblocks, and that you don't care about our feelings whatsoever.

[periwinkla]

Narumitsu/AA fic rec list No.1

---- Multi-chapter ----

pressure (pushing down on me) ApprenticeofDoyle | @apprenticeofdoyle https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440966/chapters/69694179

miles edgeworth's terrible, no-good, very bad week ApprenticeofDoyle | @apprenticeofdoyle https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390913/chapters/72203136 (this one isn't completed but please listen to my advice: a fic does not need to be completed to be enjoyable and/or give you necessary feelings) This author writes so beautifully, go read both!!! The first one has such cute and emotional moments and there's a scene in particular I will cherish most dearly for all of eternity. The second one follows as the title says Miles's most terrible misfortunes (aka AAI), so enjoy his very well written struggles.

The Miraculous Disappearance Of Phoenix Wright JJsADragon | @4ragon https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341994 This is Phoenix-centric, narumitsu is background - it's so beautiful and it's full of Phoenix drama and... hear me out... Godot!!! But, being serious here. This one really struck me. I don't know, I don't quite have the words to explain. You need to experience it yourself. But I can say that it made me rethink my whole perception of Phoenix's character. Vacation All I Ever Wanted JJsADragon | @4ragon https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088599/chapters/60774496 Same author as previous one and what can I say? It's gorgeous go read it. Also side note I actually laughed out loud at very very frequent intervals.

Saturation (ongoing) TiedyedTrickster | @greentrickster https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272603/chapters/48054286 Already talked about this previously....: It's a Miles-POV fic, sweet & cute, emotional, with an amazing sense of humor. The character relationships are chef's kiss. Absolutely brilliant all around.

The Things We Agree to Believe are True actual_goblin | @metaphorical-goblin https://archiveofourown.org/works/42658245/chapters/107157108 I think this is the kind of thing you need to read without any explaination whatsoever. It's just... an adventure, I would call it, and very very beautiful, so just jump in. There is one thing I can say though. If you like character exploration, to a degree that is frankly out of this universe, GO.

Kindred timepatches | @monimolimnion  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852137/chapters/70772769 It's about Miles adopting Pess! And it makes him realize a few things. It's so so very heartwaming. Set during the 7y gap. I think whatever I say might spoil it so I'll just describe how it made me feel! Fuzzy. Warm. Sappy. Cozy like wrapped in a blanket in winter with a nice cup of cocoa in hand. ---- One-shots ----

pressed beneath the burden of proof harmony | @harmonization https://archiveofourown.org/works/57174151 So very very very well written - I love how the author describes thoughts and emotions... it felt like I was feeling them myself.

Trials, Texts, and Tribulations bluemoodblue | @blue-mood-blue https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590601 Just very very sweet and with such nice subtlety it made me scream internally-- I love subtle things.

A Boy at the Airport KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS) | @krisseycrystal https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741124 Kid Apollo + Wrightworth. cute too cute too extremely cute family feelings overload ---- my heart is flying away...

Code to My Heart SnowOnVenus | @legayllyblonde https://archiveofourown.org/works/57499360 Incredibly beautiful and the drawings made to accompany it are absolutely charming and so fitting to the story... I especially love how Edgeworth's character was explored here. This will forever be inprinted in my heart.

To be honest there are so many more so I will probably make more lists in the future, as I also need to reread things (I have terrible, terrible memory)... hence the '1' on the title.

[kamesama]

sukuna and yūji as siblings ( inspired by this post by @nessieartss )

they are nearly spitting images of one another, but they get gravely offended if someone gets their names mixed up. calling yūji by sukuna's name is always followed by a scowl and his brows wrinkling his skin. sukuna's reaction is the same, making them even more similar. these offences lowered in number after sukuna got his face tattoos, however, they still happen every now and then.

on that note, although they behave differently and have nearly opposite worldviews, there are a couple of gestures that seem to be a shared muscle memory; the way they twist their necks and look at some wandering source of stupidity with the same unimpressed gaze being one of them. of course, they do so in a sync. the way they run their hand through their hair and scratch their head a little when confused. the way they fix their shirt and turn to the side in front of a mirror to judge its fit.

yūji is most definitely subjected to sukuna's insults, but he takes them pretty well; he puts up a fight of his own which sukuna appreciates ( invisibly ). he is happy to know his little brother is resilient. however, there are days where yūji simply cannot stomach the proportions of sukuna's asshole-ry. why are you such a prick?

fights — both verbal and non-verbal, physical and non-physical — are nearly a religious everyday routine. some days it's just sukuna walking by and ruffling yūji's hair as he leaves home, and some days it's a ferocious battle ending with yūji in a headlock because he responded to sukuna's random insult with an exasperated and serious, what the fuck is your problem, dude?

sukuna always ends up having an upper hand.

no one gets to bully sukuna's younger brother — other than him. sure, now when they are older, yūji can handle his own ordeals, but as children, one glare from sukuna was enough to provide salvation for his little brother. sukuna also had a way with their parents to get them out of trouble. how he managed to talk things out with them is beyond yūji even today, but sukuna always saved his ass, walking into crying yūji's room with a confident grin on his face to tell him problem's been solved and he can start kissing his feet.

sukuna found a scrunchie laying around at some point and gave yūji the worst time ever because he teased him so much.

yūji — god bless his wonderful soul — is undoubtedly the more respectful one of the two, unsurprisingly so. that pudding in the fridge that he knows belongs to sukuna? he doesn't touch it. he has no interest in it whatsoever. sukuna, on the other hand, will devour anything and everything he gets his hands on with no regard for ownership. i licked it so it's mine kind of logic. yūji starts hiding his snacks. sukuna nonchalantly finds them.

sukuna busts into yūji's room with nearly no announcement and regard. yūji, on the other hand, always knocks. at some point in the early teenagehood, sukuna's room was a yūji-free zone. no brats allowed. as such, yūji has lesser knowledge of sukuna's room than sukuna has of yūji's.

blackmail. threats. vile words and promises. "brat, give that back or you will never see your vanity fair jennifer lawrence poster again." "*gasp* you wouldn't." "oh, i will."

sukuna finds ways to get certain posters, photos, stickers, merch and absolutely whatever else yūji is dying to have, only to bully the poor boy. "can i see?" "no." "you don't even like that show!" however, these things always find their way onto yūji's desk in the end, or wind up under his bed. when they do, yūji strolls over to sukuna's room with the brightest sun-kissed smile on his precious mouth and expresses his gratitude with the utmost of sincerity and child-like joy. sukuna responds with aloof indifference and a middle finger. it's the tough love.

the times they do get along is when they watch movies together. it's never explicitly admitted, but it has to be their favourite way to spend time in each other's presence. they will binge a show, discuss characters, eat an unhealthy amount of snacks along the way, completely unfazed while someone's guts get clawed out and slurped on screen. horror movies are their forte but yūji successfully got sukuna hooked onto some slice-of-life romance drama here and there. if they are not watching something on some brimming-with-viruses-and-completely-illegal website at home, then they definitely go to the cinema.

the 3 am conversations about life happen. they chew on leftovers of a cold pizza, home alone, under the kitchen light, slowly and calmly commenting on the unyielding passage of time, importance of ambition and drive, and the paradox of life's meaningful meaninglessness. they do so for nine minutes before falling into silence and commenting how stupid that cliff hanger was and how a manga chapter will be delayed again.

yūji's music taste is a spectrum far wider than sukuna's, and although he prefers pop, there are some questionable and edgy songs that seem to crawl their way into his ear because sukuna keeps listening to them on high volume while showering.

surprisingly, yūji is messier than sukuna. both are relatively clean in a way that neither of their rooms resemble a pigsty, but yūji has stray hoodies on his chair or textbooks spread and splattered over his desk ( whether he actually reads them is a separate topic ). sukuna keeps his things relatively neat and leans more towards minimalism in certain aspects.

their styles most definitely clash, but not too drastically; sukuna always seems to wear something of a darker hue to the point yūji strongly questions if he owns something that isn't red, black, white or some shade of grey. on another hand, yūji adores his vivid colours; ugly mustard yellows and pastel pinks and forest greens. sukuna likes his accessories a little edgy but tasteful; yūji finds those to be a hassle because he moves around so much. however, they both seem to show affinity towards comfortable and casual wear.

because of their contrast in terms of dressing, they rarely steal borrow one another's clothes. however, there is a very cool-looking dark blue denim jacket of sukuna's that yūji's got heart eyes for, and every now and then he wears it without having asked for permission. yūji's cheeks are stuffed with his order of burger and french fries when he gets a call from sukuna. he picks up, and all that greets him is a frigid and irritated, brat, did you steal my jacket again? yūji swallows and hangs up.

yūji's socks keep disappearing. it takes him a while to realise it's because sukuna is stealing them, solely because they are made of cotton and comfy.

yūji likes sukuna's phone cases; most of them are dark-ish, sure, but they have this visual effect of elegance that makes the phone look nice. no, sukuna does not give them to his brother. the chambers of his heart are not that vast.

sukuna is more familiar with yūji's friend group than yūji is with sukuna's. he gets along with megumi, enough to acknowledge him as a good friend of his little brother. originally, he teased yūji about nobara, but once he met her, he stopped with a claim that there is zero chemistry between the two and that they're just no fun ( nobara gave him a death glare ). he calls them brats, collectively. on another hand, yūji is not well-versed enough to have a stable opinion of uraume, who seems to be sukuna's partner in crime, but he is very familiar with how irritating his brother finds yorozu who just cannot seem to stop annoying him.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[laylaysdelusions]

Sim wife. (Paige bueckers x reader)

Summary: Paige catches you playing sims with a married version of herself 

“Hey!” Paige(your roommate) says as she walks through the door, putting her gym bag down.

“Hi” you muster up the courage to not sound shy.

Everytime the woman speaks you practically fall to your knees, it’s even more unbearable, considering you live with her. She makes your mouth go dry and your cheeks go slightly pink.

“How was your day?” She asks with her classic grin that makes any fangirl swoon. She’s been in an extra good mood recently.

Ever since the two of you moved in together, as close friends, you’ve been head over heels in love with the blonde. She’s never given you the ick in any way it’s like she’s unrealistically perfect.

You suddenly feel her fingers snap in your face to grab your attention, pausing your daydream.

“Good- it was pretty good” you say way too quickly for your liking. You want to seem calm and collected but damn does she makes it difficult.

As she gets closer you get a better look at her.

She’s wearing basketball shorts that hanging off her hips, revealing the top of her boxers. Her hair is in a low slick back bun. Oh, she looks freaking delicious.

“Oh that’s good I’m happy, what made today so good?” It felt like Paige knew she was teasing you, it was almost like she knew that you couldn’t really answer that.

“Well I hung out with Dylan and Maddy in my room for most of the day” you say while smiling, thinking about the memories with your best friends.

To be honest your best friends poked fun at your debilitating crush on Paige often today, and that was a pretty big part of your conversations with them, but Paige doesn’t have to know that of course.

They were given an even bigger opportunity to say something when they saw that you made Paige in the sims 4 and you married her.

‘Aww she’s too cute’ Maddy put her hand on her heart while looking at Dylan.

You had to jerk yourself back into reality.

“Is something wrong, you seem to be daydreaming a lot” Paige asks.

You assure her you’re just fine and even though she doesn’t really believe you she lets it slip past.

“What’s your plans for tonight?”

“Oh well nothing really just video games” you answer as you’re fighting back the urge to just jump in her arms(or make out with her.)

“Actually I was wondering if you wanted to had a movie night with me like old times? a girls night?”

“Sorry Paige I need alone time to unwind, you know how draining Dylan and Maddy can be from time to time” she sighs and rolls eyes at you.

“Why have you so been so introverted around me recently?” She looks at you with a questioning voice

You try to breathe and stay calm. There’s no way you can sit next to her for two hours or longer while still containing your feelings, especially since your ovulating.

“Just a little more reserved nothing to worry about” you say quietly before speed walking to your room.

“Shit..i just made an absolute fool out of myself” you whisper while having a big pout on your face.

While you’re sitting on a self hate train you decide to self soothe by playing with your imaginary world of sims. You pull up your save file and begin playing.

Not long after you heard Paige knock on your door.

“Um hey I got you pizza I thought you might be hungry”

“Thank you” you say with a sheepish smile

“Hey are you playing the sims?” Paige laughs.

Uh oh. You hoped and prayed she wouldn’t notice the sims you made.

“Y-yeah” you mentally facepalm at your stutter.

“I used to play this game with my friends all the time, throw back” Paige says amused.

What you didn’t realize is that Paige found it adorable and she wasn’t judging you whatsoever. She thinks you’re pretty damn cute.

The screen accidentally moves around a your sim self appears.

“Oh gosh is that you?”

You nod.

“She has your facial features and mannerisms down perfectly, are you married in here?” She sounds eager to see save file but you’re not willing to show her considering her name is in there.

“M-mhm” you say not wanting to lie, you want her to like you and that means being honest and likable in everything.

“Can I see?”

“No..”

“Why not?” She looks puzzled but still amused.

“Come on sweetheart just let me see it’s not that serious it’s not like I’m gonna judge a sim” she playfully rolls her eyes.

The pet name didn’t slip past you. Your face flushed and your knees went weak.

Paige’s hand overrides yours on the keyboard and she sees your sim wife.

“Paige bueckers is your sim wife hm?” She says with a smiles and her eyebrows move.

You’re frozen and no words can come out.

“I didn’t know my princess of a roommate had that big of a crush”

“Look- I’m sorry can we pretend this never happened” you say, so embarrassed.

She leans down to your ear and whispers.

“Don’t worry I like you too”

Relief and flustered emotions come over you. Does she really or is she just messing with you?

“Yes, really” Paige says almost as if she could read your mind.

“I see the way you peek down the hallway to get a glimpse of me or how your cheeks are pink when we make eye contact, I’ve been doing the same thing for a while now honey you’re oblivious”.

“So this means..we can be date?”

“Well yeah I was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend, what do you think?”

“Yes!” You say extremely fast.