#as long as i remember the equations i can eat up the test i just need to know the units of measurement

[tar0star]

I HATE PHYSICS SO MUCH I HATE ELECTRICITY SO SO SO MUCH WHY IS EVERYTHING INTERCONNECTED

the way this gif moves makes me uncomfortable

[kayewrite]

Blue Sticky Note

straykids fic wherein a mysterious note confession appears in your binder. Unsure of who left it, you embark on an investigation among your eight close friends, each with their own quirks and possibilities.

genre: Fluff. and fluff

ot8 x reader! stray kids x reader!! word count: 3.3k

AN: i want to make a fic with multiple members in it but i might make more of it after i finished all individual members. btw can you teach me how tumblr works? i might pin a masterlist soon hehe

You just got back to your apartment after a long day of classes. Exhausted from wrestling with numbers and equations, you flopped down on your bed and closed your eyes.

But your moment of peace was interrupted by the sudden ringing of your phone.

“Hey,” your friend Seungmin’s voice greeted you through the speaker.

Used to how he always greeted you, you sighed and listened as he continued, your tiredness making it hard to focus.

“You didn’t turn in your literature assignment. I’m on my way to your building,” he said, causing you to bolt upright in surprise.

You had forgotten to give it to him during class earlier. Glad he reminded you. And you were glad to be friends with him because he was the class representative. You enjoyed a lot of benefits from being his friend.

“Okay, thanks for the reminder. No need to come up—I’ll meet you downstairs,” you replied before ending the call.

Grateful for Seungmin’s help, you quickly gathered your things and checked your binder for the assignment. You sighed in relief when you found it. “I thought I lost you.”

As you were about to close your binder, a flash of blue caught your eye. A blue sticky note on the front page—one that you definitely didn’t own.

You pulled it out and read the message, which made your heart skip a beat: “I like you. But i you only see me as a friend.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d received a confession, but this note felt different. There was a mystery to it that intrigued you.

Confusion swirled in your mind as you tried to piece together who might have left this note. The message was neatly written in capital letters, offering no clues about the writer's identity.

Who could it be?

You had a lot of friends, but who might have done this?

You had male friends, all of whom felt like brothers to you. Could it be one of them? But they were like family.

The note was a sweet but outdated way to confess—charming in its own way but not something you’d expect from anyone in particular. You read it again and again, hoping to find a hint about who it might be from. But aside from the neat handwriting on a blue sticky note, you found nothing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. You immediately sprang out of bed, remembering Seungmin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, peeking through the door.

“It’s okay,” he smiled reassuringly. “I know you were tired, so I decided to come up.”

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, quickly picking up some clothes that were strewn on the floor. You grabbed your assignment and saw the sticky note again, hastily hiding it by placing a book on top.

As you handed over your paper, you decided to test the waters, curious about who the note could be from. “Do you own any sticky notes?” you asked casually.

Seungmin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I was taking notes and thought I might need some,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You have plenty already,” he said, gesturing to the stack of colorful sticky notes on your study table. “And no, I don’t have any. I keep running out of them. I should buy more.”

He glanced at his watch and then looked back at you, his eyes full of concern. “I should go now. You should continue resting, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. President,” you said, a playful tone in your voice.

“No problem. Take care and always lock your doors. Bye, see you tomorrow.”

Before he left, Seungmin ruffled your hair affectionately.

As the door closed behind him, you found yourself staring at the sticky note again, your mind racing. If it was Seungmin who left the note, did he feel that way about you? His caring nature and playful attitude seemed to match the tone of the note, but could he really be the one?

Then again, what if it wasn’t him? You couldn’t jump to conclusions based solely on a sticky note.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside. Until you had more evidence, you couldn’t be certain. You needed to consider all possibilities before drawing any conclusions.

Sticky notes and neat penmanship alone weren’t enough to figure out who left the note. Everyone in your class had decent handwriting, and blue sticky notes were too common to offer any real clue. They were practically identical—anyone could have bought them. It wasn't unique, not even close.

So who could it be?

"What are you thinking about?"

You were lost in thought when a voice pulled you back to reality. You looked up to see who it was.

"Uh, nothing," you replied, somewhat startled.

It was Changbin.

He was a friend of yours, though vastly different from Seungmin. If Seungmin was a green flag, then Changbin was the complete opposite—a walking red flag who had a reputation for playing with people’s hearts.

"Let me copy your physics assignment," he demanded more than asked, flashing you a grin that was both charming and mischievous.

Changbin had that bad-boy aura, and you sometimes wondered how you two even became friends. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t be the one who left that sticky note in your binder. When Changbin liked someone, he didn’t shy away from telling them directly. He would flirt openly, not leave anonymous notes.

So no, it wasn’t him.

"Why should I?" you replied nonchalantly. You were used to his antics, which might be one of the reasons why you were friends.

"Because I’m cute, and after class, I’ll buy you your favorite toothpaste-flavored ice cream," he teased.

"It’s not toothpaste! It’s mint chocolate!" you corrected, rolling your eyes.

"My bad," he smirked, unfazed. "Now, let me copy."

Too tired to argue further, you handed him your assignment. Changbin eagerly started copying, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you watched him scribble down your answers, you noticed his messy handwriting. There was no way it could have been him—the note’s handwriting was neat and careful, the opposite of his chaotic scrawl.

"You really have terrible handwriting. What are you, a kid? It looks like a storm blew through it," you teased, watching him.

"If I had more time, I could make it look like it was printed with a font," he shot back, not looking up. "But since the prof will be here in a few minutes, I don’t care what you say. Now, shush."

You let him finish copying, trying not to overthink the situation again, when suddenly he pulled out a blue sticky note from his bag.

"I almost forgot to give this to you," he said, handing it to you slowly. "It’s the address for the party this weekend. You should come. If I don’t see even a glimpse of you, I won’t enjoy it."

Surprised, you stared at the sticky note in his hand. It was the same color and size as the one you found in your binder. Why would he have this?

Seeing that you weren’t taking it, he grinned mischievously and stuck it to your forehead, laughing at your shocked expression.

Could it be him?

But…

You glanced at the two sticky notes in your hand, comparing them as you strolled through the expansive university yard.

Confessing like this wasn’t his style.

So it couldn’t be, right?

But the sticky notes were identical—the same length, the same height. Plain as they were, they were unmistakably the same.

Yet, you remembered how he would laugh if he knew someone confessed like this. He’d call it plain, boring, and probably mock the person as weak.

You shook off the thought, placing the sticky notes back in your binder and hugging it to your chest, forcing your mind to focus on your lessons.

"Hey, monkey!" You halted mid-step, rolling your eyes at the familiar voice and nickname.

"What?" you snapped, turning to face him.

"So you really accept now that you’re a monkey?" he teased, laughing. It was Minho.

Your friend (well, sort of?). In your group, you were like a cat and dog—he was the cat, and according to him, you were the dog because your face reminded him of one.

Despite the constant teasing, you appreciated how he looked out for you and was always there when you needed him.

But what did he just say?

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," you muttered. On a normal day, you would have started bickering with him, refusing to back down until he surrendered (yes, like kids). "What are you, a chicken?"

"Oh, you noticed my hair. Do you like it?" he winked.

"You look like a rooster." His hair was dyed orange, and although he didn’t look like a rooster, you wanted to get back at him.

"That's better than being a monkey," he grinned.

"Crazy."

The two of you walked together, talking about random things with the usual bickering sprinkled in. Then, you remembered the sticky note. You knew it wasn’t from him because, well, why would it be?

Still, you decided to show it to him.

"Who do you think did this?" you asked, handing him the note.

He read it aloud, the words dripping with sarcasm, "That’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever read in my whole life."

Just as you expected.

"You shouldn’t say that! He must’ve gathered a lot of courage to do this."

"Why wouldn’t he just tell you in person? Is he weak?" Minho scoffed, lowering his voice when he saw you weren’t amused.

"Maybe he didn’t want to ruin our friendship."

"Then he shouldn’t have liked you in the first place."

"Can we control our feelings? It’s hard, you know!" You rolled your eyes. "Why am I even telling you this? You don’t understand anything," you mumbled, though loud enough for him to hear. "Anyway, I should go. I have something to do at the library."

"I like you."

You froze in your tracks at his words.

"That’s what he should do! It’s really easy, you know," he said, smirking before suddenly sprinting off in the opposite direction.

What was that?

Confused by Minho's words, you made your way to the library, replaying the conversation in your mind.

"What was that? Does he like me, or was he just using it as an example?"

You tried to shrug off the thought as you arrived at the library. The familiar scent of books enveloped you, a comforting distraction.

At the librarian's desk, you spotted Han, your friend who worked there as a student assistant.

"Oh, what brings you here?" he greeted you with a smile, lowering his voice in contrast to Minho’s usual volume.

"Hello. I’m returning this book." You handed him the physics book you had been hugging to your chest.

"Already? Are you sure you’re done with it? It’s okay if you missed the deadline. You know I can always talk to the senior librarian for you," Han offered, his tone warm and reassuring.

If you were to consider another suspect in your mystery investigation, Han would be a possibility. You’d never questioned how he took care of you before, but now, as you tried to solve this puzzle, you began to wonder.

Could he like you?

Or were you just overthinking things?

No, you shouldn’t read too much into Han’s actions. Like Seungmin, he was someone who genuinely cared for the people he loved.

"No, it’s okay. I’m done with it. Thank you, Han. And thanks for the offer—I might take you up on that one day and maybe never return the book," you joked, earning a laugh from him.

"Now I should go. I need to meet Hyunjin—he asked me for a favor."

"Sure! Take care!"

"Thanks. You too."

As you left the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Turning around, you saw Han, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, was this yours? You forgot it," he said, handing you the sticky note.

You didn’t know how it ended up with him, but you quickly took it and placed it in your binder.

"Oh, thanks."

"No worries. That was a cute confession," he said, still catching his breath, then laughed. "I should get back—lots of work to do."

You nodded, watching as he returned to the library.

A question formed in your mind: Was it Han?

Why didn’t he ask who wrote it?

Why wasn’t he curious?

But then, he did ask if it was yours, as if he didn’t know.

So maybe… it wasn’t him.

"You literally owe me for this one," you whined, though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice as you glanced at your friend Hyunjin, a med student with an ever-present smile.

"Yes, I promise I'll buy you whatever you want," he said, clasping his hands together in gratitude, his eyes gleaming with a sincerity that made it hard to stay annoyed. You sighed, relenting, and extended your arm.

He needed a blood sample for one of his "you-don’t-know-the-details" assignments, and apparently, you were exactly what he needed.

Like a seasoned pro, he pricked the needle into your skin and attached a small hose to collect your blood. It wasn’t the first time you’d been his willing guinea pig, but you couldn’t say no to Hyunjin.

"Thank you," he said earnestly after he was done.

"Right. You should be thankful," you retorted with a mock glare, though you couldn’t help but smile when he laughed.

Hyunjin had the most stereotypical 'doctor-y' penmanship you’d ever seen—impossible to decipher, even as you watched him scribble something in his records.

"By the way, I left a note before in your binder," he said casually.

His words rang in your ears. "What note?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the suspense. "A note about how you should remember to take the vitamins I gave you."

Oh.

Seeing you internalize his words, he added, "And I noticed another note in there." He adjusted his white coat, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And I know who put it there."

You looked up at him, curiosity written all over your face as he towered over you.

"And you should find that out on your own," he teased, winking before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Why’d you call me here?" Jeongin asked as he walked into the coffee shop, a guitar slung over his back.

"Because I promised to buy you coffee," you replied with a smile.

Jeongin was a year younger than you, a music major who could play practically any instrument, though piano was his favorite.

"Really? But I’m not craving coffee right now. You should buy me a meal. I’m hungry," he said, not even trying to be cute but somehow managing to be utterly adorable.

As per his request, the two of you headed to a nearby restaurant. You let him order whatever he wanted and watched as he dug into his food.

"You must’ve been really hungry," you remarked.

"I didn’t have lunch or dinner yet," he admitted between bites.

"You shouldn’t skip meals like that! Our bodies are our main investment. We need to take care of them," you scolded, playing the role of the older sibling.

"I know, Mom," he teased.

"Good son," you laughed.

"Are you going to Changbin’s party?" he asked after stuffing more food into his mouth. You took a sip of your strawberry latte, considering your answer.

"I don’t know. I’m kinda busy."

He got back to eating, and you hesitated, feeling a question bubbling up inside you. It felt awkward, but you knew you wouldn’t be at peace until you asked.

"Uh, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"You're already doing it," he said, his mouth still half-full.

"Let me finish!," you squinted at him. "This question is kinda weird, but…"

"Faster! I’m curious!" He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Uh, do you know if anyone who’s close to us… erm…" You coughed, trying to find the right words. "…likes me? I mean, like, likes me?"

Jeongin looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don’t know who, but I know everyone loves you."

Well, that much was true—friendship came naturally with your group.

"And me too. I love you," he added casually.

"Aw, thank you. I love you too."

He didn’t reply, just smiled at you for a moment before turning back to his meal, leaving you with a warm feeling that was hard to shake.

"I'm so tired of that neighbor of mine!" Felix, a friend who lived three floors above you, burst into your apartment wearing pajamas and hugging his pillow.

"You can’t sleep again?" you asked, watching as he plopped down onto your sofa bed with a dramatic sigh.

"I don’t know what the hell he’s doing in the middle of the night! Was he doing construction or something?" he whined, making himself comfortable. "Oh, this is so comfortable. Let me crash here."

It wasn’t the first time he’d crashed at your place, so you were used to it. You didn’t mind at all.

"Did I bother you?" he asked, his head still buried in the pillow.

"Never."

"I should really move to this floor. It’s so peaceful."

"You could always move into my apartment and be my roommate," you suggested, a plan you’d considered before.

"No way. Someone might get angry."

"Who would that be?"

Felix didn’t answer, his silence leaving the question hanging in the air. You thought he might be teasing, but his continued silence suggested otherwise.

"And I don’t think I could handle living with you," he added.

"Why’s that?"

Once again, he didn’t respond.

"You should get some sleep. It’s past midnight," you said, heading toward your room.

As you were about to close the door, Felix called out, "I know about the blue sticky note in your binder."

You stopped in your tracks.

"Keep it, okay?" he said with a knowing smile before burying himself back into the pillow.

You wanted to ask more, but Felix seemed to be done with the conversation. With a curious mind, you went to bed, pondering over his cryptic words.

“Chan, did you really make this?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement as you listened intently.

He nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face as he observed your reaction.

“This is the best music I’ve ever heard!” you exclaimed, pressing the earphones deeper into your ears.

“Oh, of course you’d say that because I’m your friend,” Chan said with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious!” you replied, though you could only read his lips. The music’s high volume made it difficult to hear clearly. “This is amazing!”

“Yeah, that’s Han in the background and Changbin rapping.”

You bobbed your head along with the beats, completely immersed in the music Chan had created.

“Was Jeongin in it?” you asked, recognizing a familiar voice.

“Yes, and Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Seungmi—”

“This part is definitely Seungmin!” you shouted, and Chan laughed at your enthusiasm.

You continued listening, enjoying every note until the very last one, which was a soft piano melody.

“Wow, that was beautiful! I still can’t believe my friend created this. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a great compliment from the person the song was inspired by,” Chan said with a knowing smile.

You didn’t catch that last part, too absorbed in the music to fully register his words.

“What’s the title of the song?” you asked, still in awe.

“Blue Sticky Note.”

The title made you stop dead in your tracks. Chan’s gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression, as if he knew something you didn’t.

The realization hit you—the lyrics, the melody, everything about the song—

We’ve been friends for so long, shared laughter and tears,

But there’s something more inside, I’ve held back for years.

So I turned our feelings into a song, hoping you’d see,

How much you mean to me, how much you mean to me.

Oh, blue sticky note, you’re my secret, my confession,

Wrapped in notes and beats, my heart’s true expression.

In every verse, in every line, it’s you I adore,

From a simple blue sticky note to a melody I’m pouring out.

it was all connected to the note you had hidden in your binder.

part 2 here!

[inflatingnblue]

I just wanna say that you’re beautiful, all the kinky shit aside. I’ve been getting posts recommended to me on my tumblr fyp that say you liked them, and they’re all horrible upsetting pro-ana stuff, and I don’t know if those are old likes or new ones, but I hope you aren’t falling prey to those demons. They’re always wrong, and all they ever want is to erase you and make you less of who you’re meant to be. You deserve better 💜

This is a long one, friends, so feel free to skip.

First, thank you for sending, Anon. You didn't have to and you still did.

Recovery is complicated, and that's an understatement. Although I like Violet and "blowing up," that's all in fantasy land. In the real world, I would like nothing more than to lose weight.

For the longest time I've believed that my worth comes from being thin and beautiful, that things would make sense and fall into place. That I wouldn't hate myself anymore if I could just get to the right size and then being the right size would also equate to beauty.

I started gaining weight after I was in recovery for a year. I gained a lot over the course of several years. I couldn't figure out what was wrong; working with my dietitian, going to the doctor's, getting test after test to just be told 🤷🏻‍♀️. I thought I was losing my mind. It was really hard to focus on recovery and I slipped a lot.

I was (and still am) extremely aware of how much space I take up and compared myself to those around me. I was (and still am) extremely aware of the fat shaming that happens around me. I hated leaving the house because I knew I would be judged for my size, and that judgment is still a fear I experience today.

I relapsed during 2022 and lost a "significant" amount of weight. I'm using quotes because that's how my therapist described it. I wish I had lost more so it didn't seem significant enough. Then in 2023 I finally found the answer I was looking for - lipedema. I was very grateful to know what was wrong, but it still sucks.

This year I've been working on recovery and it's been fucking difficult. I can't seem to just stay on one side. One day I'm gonna do my best and eat regularly and try to be nice to myself. The next day I may flip and start thinking about weight loss. This time the ED would work, I'll make sure it works. Pat myself on the back if I didn't eat while in the office or got a certain number of steps in. It's exhausting ping ponging back and forth.

My FYP matches that ping pong game. Sometimes I'm not even looking for ED related stuff and it hits me in the face. This might sound weird to some - EDs are very seductive. They can easily be called an addiction. My neuropathways are ready and raring to go down the highway to ED Land. Sometimes I can stop it along the way and sometimes I can't. Some of the posts feel comforting because I know I'm not alone. Some of the posts would be pretty alarming for most people with the imagery and text. I know it's not helpful to look at the pro ana and ED related posts. Just like I can be in awe with how big someone's tummy is, I can also be in awe of various pro ana content.

I know the actual problem is feeling like I don't deserve better. I punish myself for not meeting the high expectations I've collected over the years. Self compassion is still a foreign concept. Logically I understand why it's important to practice, it just seems wrong for some reason.

Again, Anon, I really appreciate you reaching out and voicing concern. It's helpful to hear the same positive and supportive messages from different areas of my life. And I'm sorry you're getting these recommendations. I didn't realize that would happen and now I remember I turned off the option to get recommendations. 😬 Just know I heard you. I'm sure you already know that change is slow, although I'll be more mindful of what I like on here.

Thanks 💙

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

Hey WIYLLT... I am taking the bar exam soon, and I am really freaking anxious... I havendo studied hard. Any last minute tips lol?

BIG FAT EDIT: Well, I'm not sure what the subject is or what type of exam it is but WIYLLT YOU DUMB FUCK IT LITERALLY SAYS BAR EXAM AND THAT'S LAW THIS TOOK YOU LITERAL DAYS FOR YOUR BRAIN TO WORK THAT OUT YOU ABSOLUTE DISGRACE

I'm sorry, I fucked up but I have limited knowledge of how this works; I didn't go to school to become a lawyer (CLEARLY and it seems my degree was in being a DUMDUM). I see there's multiple choice, essay, and preformamce portions and that it usually takes two days. You've been studying a long time for this already (law degree and all that), just put it all together and showcase what you got. Take care of your health. Put your professional wording on. You can always take it again. Lots of people do. Breathe. Two breaths in, one out. Repeat. Watch the time. Plot out your plan of how you'll tackle each section. I see most countries / states have the sections outlined so brush up on anything you're not as well-versed on. Trust in you. You've worked for this! Put everything you remember out there and do your best!

below for general test-taking tips

I would say focus on understanding main concepts. If there's stuff you already feel confident in, last-minute study should be clarifying what you're unsure about.

When taking the exam, do everything you know well first. Skip anything you're not sure about and come back later. Then do what's left in the order of, "kinda know so I'll put down what I think is the answer", "questions I need to think more about but I have a good guess", and "yolo, put something down and hope for the best". XD

Watch the time. If a question is taking you too long, skip it and come back to it. Example: 45 multiple-choice questions, 90 minutes, so don't take longer than 2 minutes per question. Double check that you put some kind of answer for every question before turning it in. If possible, even if it's only part of the answer or a random guess, write something down because you might get partial points.

If you have time before the exam, write down a "hit list" if what the questions will be about. If it's math, know all the equations. If it's science / social science, know the overarching ideas and theory. Language is slightly easier; you just have to analyze what you think a passage means. If it's history, uh, idk, hope you can memorize dates because I can't, oof. You can get away with not knowing a small fact but missing a whole section will hurt your score a lot more.

Deep breaths. Make sure you have all your tools (pencils, erasers, pens, etc). Eat well. Just remember scores aren't everything try your best. It's okay to stumble. Sometimes things happen. That's life.

Good luck! :)

[skullchicken]

Ich habe 8.367 Mal im Jahr 2022 etwas gepostet

92 Einträge erstellt (1%)

8.275 Einträge gerebloggt (99%)

Blogs, die ich am häufigsten gerebloggt habe:

@yondamoegi

@arkatrine

@the-barabarian

@friendlygiantstm

@nyoxt-was-here

Ich habe 976 meiner Einträge im Jahr 2022 getaggt

#shadowrun – 59 Einträge

#my art – 30 Einträge

#self-reblog – 23 Einträge

#tabletop – 18 Einträge

#urban fantasy – 18 Einträge

#cyberpunk – 16 Einträge

#lol – 15 Einträge

#inspiration – 14 Einträge

#ttrpg – 13 Einträge

#artists on tumblr – 12 Einträge

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and discipline are all variables in a large equation that exists to determine how good a grade you can get on some cosmic test that you’re

Meine Top-Einträge im Jahr 2022:

#5

On the way home, 2020

104 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 2. März 2022

#4

"This won't go over well at the next team meeting"

Please click to see the details! (or you might not spot the guy)

I love myself some illustrations that tell a story, so I tried my hand at one. I had a lot of fun snapping reference photos for sloppily eating ramen ^^

125 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 9. März 2022

#3

I dunno, I think that went well

125 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 28. August 2022

#2

Here's a rule of thumb that really helped me build up a circle of close friends in my twenties:

Friendship = bonding x times met

Meaning: if you want to befriend someone, make sure you have contact on a somewhat regular basis.

I know this is easier said than done for many people, but if you have the brain-space and ability for it, try this:

Make a list of people you know personally and that you'd like to know better or be good friends with. people who bring you joy. I would not make the list too long, maybe 12 at the most.

Now write the last time you spoke or wrote to them next to their name. bonus: note down subjects you talked about.

Put the list somewhere where you see it (your desktop, first page of your notebook, wall, whatever).

Write the person you haven't spoken the longest to, if it has been longer than two weeks. ask them how they are doing (or if you remember, how something they have been talking to about last time has turned out)

This helps you to make sure you don't drop off the face of the earth unintended. It also keeps you from letting people slip away that you get along great with but that don't stick around in your memory much, for whatever reason.

Most people, I feel, aren't great at keeping contact or contacting someone out of the blue. if you're one of the people who struggles with it, you're not alone. But if you can form a habit of contacting people you'd like to have in your life more, it can be a great source of joy and comfort.

370 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 13. April 2022

Meine #1 des Jahres 2022

I just had a small epiphany why you might like other people's art more than your own:

It's the lack of suspension of disbelief.

When you see something someone else has drawn or painted, you take in the content faster than you take in the technical aspects. You experience it as pseudo-real, the same way you stop perceiving animated characters as drawn or book characters as written as you get into the story.

On the other hand, when you yourself have made something, all you see is the machine behind the theater, so to speak. You're probably thinking about lines, shading, coloring in a "does this make sense? Is this the best decision I could have made?"-kind of way.

I think that's also why sometimes, pictures you haven't looked at for a long time starts looking nice to you again, à la: "Hey past-me was unto something! Why can't I replicate it nowadays?". It's probably specifically because you've forgotten the process of making it that you are now seeing it with fresh eyes.

Art is an illusion, but a magician has a hard time tricking themself. So don't be so hard on yourself: it's probably just that you can't see the magic right now, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

742 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 23. November 2022

Hol dir deinen Tumblr-Jahresrückblick 2022 →

[sharpknifesouls]

This post peels me like a fruit, and yet I feel so powerless to change.

These days it feels like I do not know how to do more than just breathe, just survive, just make it to the next day, when once I hit 24 years old I began to feel like the eternal fire of youth that had always sustained me had instead gone out, left me, and left me hollow in the process.

You want to know what I want? I do not want to just breathe in. I'm sick and tired of breathing. I want to inhale, I want to gasp in lungfuls of crisp fall air from all around me. I want to drink deep from the fountain. I want to know what oxygen MEANS.

Right now, all I want in the world is to go buy some silly bandz and one of those white studded emo belts and go do something with my friends, with the ones I love. Or meet a bunch of cis girls who can show me how to do my makeup and make me feel like I belong somewhere. I want to do something I've literally never done before, that isn't just watching a new show or eating food. I feel like I exist just to wake up, pass the time, then go back to the dull embrace of my bed.

Time passes, and I feel like I'm running from the clock, like once my 24th birthday fell, a timer started that no one warned me about. All day long I imagine doing things, picture how I could, should, would feel, but something is in my way. It's partially my medication making me feel numb, but some small part of me wonders if there isn't something else stopping me, too. But what?

What is it? What happened to my fucking dreams? Of going to college in New York City, of travelling to Japan? Becoming a voice actress, a writer, an artist, an animator? My dreams and passions feel diluted, like butter spread over too much bread, or a single vial of dye dropped into an Olympic swimming pool. I feel stagnant; the kind of pond water that attracts mosquitos. My world is so quiet when I want it to be loud, loud, loud! I have lived so long in silence that I want the volume knob broken. I want the music to pound my ears so loud I can no longer think. I want clubs, studying until the midnight oil runs out and my eyebags show simply because I want to. Dancing until the morning peeks in and the birds start to sing. I want to kiss someone. Hollow sex, meaningful sex, little gestures of affection, flirting with strangers, running from the cops, jumping fences, house parties. Doing homework, taking tests, learning new things, mastering the guitar, understanding sine waves, working on scripts full of dialogue for a hundred page manuscript.

I am someone who does not like rollercoasters and would never like skydiving, and yet I want both. I want to be excited, roused, entertained, and driven. I want the first thought that happens when I wake up in the morning to be "I feel powerful". I want to know what it means to understand myself, to grasp concepts, to remember things. I want to perform on stage, learn ballet, write down notes for myself in the morning. I want the comprehension of my own life that comes from tucking my hair behind my ear and chewing on the end of my pencil. I want to be able to solve equations.

I have spent so, so much of my life in a malaise where it feels like nothing of significance has occured, and why? Because I have been struggling. Struggling to survive under years of constant fatigue, years of dysphoria and not living as my actual gender, years of trying to undo what my father did to me, years of "can't"s and "hadn't"s, years of life defined not by what I'd done, but by what I couldn't do. Couldn't call CPS, couldn't tell anyone I was raped, couldn't have any energy throughout the day, couldn't stand everyone telling me I was a guy when I knew I wasn't, couldn't stop being psychotic, couldn't overcome my ADHD, that oh-so persistent desire to simply imagine a life instead of live one. I am tired of imagining, god-dammit! I am tired of trying to run with one foot in the ground or barefoot on glass. All my life, I have wanted running shoes. I have wanted to exist in a more meaningful way, a better union of my self and mind, body and soul. I have wanted there to be some kind of grand gunshot that shoves me down a hill so steep that I can't possibly manage to be anything else but my true self. I am tired of pretending I'm fine simply breathing. I am tired of pretending there is any time to waste. I am tired of thinking of what was stolen from me instead of what I might yet steal from the lion's jaws of the sun we all burn under. I refuse to let my fire go out so quickly, so utterly, so perfectly. No. No. The universe, if it wants my resignation, will have to claw it screaming from my cold, dead fingers. It will have to fight me for it, and so far I have woken up each morning. I have showed up to class every single day of my life, always on time. I have been alive for eight thousand, eight hundred and seventy days, and I will pry the rest from the maw of decay if it's the end of me. Entropy has not met me yet.

At the end of my rope I will find myself.

It is no longer enough to simply exist.

I want to live.

a mary oliver quote that peeled me like a fruit

[fangirlshrieks]

Trying

a/n: Feeling dominant and breedable. Yes this is a lot self indulgent. I don't need to explain myself. 😌

Word count: 4,047

Parings: Neville Longbottom x wife!reader

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!Neville, softdom!, mommy! kink , chastity cage 🔐, collar kink, leash kink, breeding kink, ice, pregnancy 

Summary: Y/N and Neville have been married for a few years and are now ready to expand their family. They begin to try for a baby. Neville thinks they are going to try the old fashion way and leave their usual sub and dom dynamic out of the equation. Boy was he wrong!

You and Neville had decided it was time to finally add a new member of the family a few weeks ago. You couldn't be more happy about your decision to start a little family of your own. When you and Neville had decided to become pregnant you had figured it would be a good time to bring in something new to the bedroom to help your chances at becoming pregnant.

A chastity cage. 

The cage was just a precaution of course. It would prevent him from masturbating, which was known to lower speed count. And you were going to need all the sperm you could get out of Neville. Not a single drop was to go to waste.

Yes, Neville was your very good boy and would never touch himself without your permission but the excitement that ran through your veins at the thought of locking up what was yours was all the more reason to go through with it. 

You and Neville had been trying for a baby for the past week as you were ovulating that week. When the week was up you checked multiple pregnancy tests, which all came back negative. You and Neville knew it could take months to get pregnant but the disappointment still hurt. But there was always a chance the next time round. 

The next day after you had taken your pregnancy test you went out to buy a chastity cage for Neville. You wanted to be absolutely sure that he didn't touch himself for the next few weeks until you were ovulating. You bought a steel cage for his size. It was perfect. 

You wrapped it up in a present box for Neville when he got home from work. As an auror he worked long hours and would come home very late sometimes. But today he arrived home about the same time you came home from work. 

"Hello Darling." You kissed him on the cheek as he came in the front door. "How was work?"

"Stressful as always." He kissed the top of your head. "How about you?" 

"Writing papers as always." You gestured to the pile of interviews and articles on your desk waiting to be revised and published. 

The two of you headed to the kitchen where you had his favorite meal prepared. The table was already set up and you had even lit a few candles to set the mood. You were definitely trying to butter him up to the idea you were about to propose. 

"What's all this for?" He asked bemused. 

"We're trying to make a baby remember?" You said, giving a little wink in his direction.

He laughed at your response. "I appreciate what you've done but you honestly didn't have to do all this for me. You're the one who's going to be the mother of my child. I should be the one doing all this."

"Yes but I just want to spoil my good boy while I still can. You know… before our lives are changed forever." You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his middle and reached up to kiss his lips. He returned your kiss with a smile on his face. 

"Changed in a good way though." He confirmed.

"Of course in a good way." You smiled back at him. "Now let's eat." 

Over dinner the two of you talked about your day. Neville mostly talked about this case that he had been working on for about a month. You talked about how you had met with one of the wizarding world's most famous musicians for an interview that day. Neville was more interested in what you had to say than his work as his job made him stressed. 

By the end of the night you had summoned the gift on the table and placed it in front of him. 

"What's this for?" He chuckled. He was sure you were trying to seduce him for another night of fun.

"Want to find out?" You said playfully. "Open it."

You watched as he untied the ribbon that neatly tied into a bow at the top of the box. His smile never left his face as he opened the top of the box. In the box was the gift wrapped in colored tissue paper. He quickly unfolded the tissue paper to reveal the chastity cage. 

At first he had no idea what he was looking at and even turned the box at different angles to try and make out what it was. Then his eyes went wide and you knew he had figured out what it was. 

"Oh my god." He swallowed hard and unbuttoned the top of his collared shirt for some air. You had mentioned previously about wanting to use a chastity cage and he had admitted to liking the idea but he never imagined you would go through with it, let alone right now when you two were trying to get pregnant. 

You loved the effect you had on him even after all these years. His face hadn't become so red in a very long time. You missed the shade on him. 

"I thought you were trying to get me to sleep with you tonight." He admitted. "And why now? I thought we were trying for a baby." 

"We are trying for a baby but only when I'm ovulating "you reassured him. "This is just so you won't masturbate. You have to keep your sperm count up. And this… " you said, reaching to grab the cage from the box and displaying it in your hand. "This guarantees me that you won't be able to cum." 

"I…" he was at a loss of words. 

"Come on, let's get ready for bed and get you cleaned before I lock you up." You said getting up and heading towards your bathroom. 

That surprised Neville. "Wait, you want to start now!? As in right this second?" He quickly followed you. 

"Yes" You said, taking your clothes off and hopping in the shower. "Take your clothes off and join me.

Neville reluctantly joined you in the shower but was all more focused on not being able to cum for who knows how long. 

"How long do I have to keep it on?" 

You thought about it for a while and then decided. "Until the next time I ovulate, which is about a month away." You spoke casually. 

"What!" 

"Neville it's not that long." You smirked at him.

"A month without sex. How does that make any sense? We're trying to have a kid." 

"Well I'm more likely to get pregnant when I'm ovulating. And who said we can't have sex?" You cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh I just thought. Well you said I have to keep it on for a month." He stated a little confused. 

"You do. We can still have sex other ways." You smiled mischievously. 

Neville knew this was going to be a very long month. But he also knew that there was no getting out of this. To make matters worse, your casual way of talking about him being locked up in a cage turned him on. He had no way of releasing himself before you put him away for the next month. 

After the shower you had Neville lay on the bed. This made his erection worse as he waited for you. You had gone down to the kitchen to get something. He pondered on whether or not he could jerk off as fast as he could to get one final release before you came back. But before he could even get the courage to move his hand towards himself you returned with a bowl of ice. You sat next to him on the bed near his crotch. 

"You won't fit in your cage if you're already hard." You said.

His heart was racing at your words. Then you grabbed an ice cube from the bowl and started to rub the ice cube on his dick. He made a hissing noise as the cold came in contact with his hardened dick. After a few ice cubes he was now soft and numb. He was whining now and a few tears fell from his eyes. 

"Mommy… " he cried. "Please don't lock me away." He gave you the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

You rubbed his stomach all the way to his thigh to sooth him. "Shh… It will only be for a little while." 

He nodded and watched as you slipped the chastity cage on him. It was a bit snug and cold to the touch. He watched as you locked it with a gold padlock. You casted a spell so that only the key that you wore around your neck in a chain necklace could open it. No "alohomora" could save him now.

"There" you said, giving his balls a little pat. Now you can't touch what's mine." He twitched at your words. 

Feeling was returning to his nether regions. He was still horny from before but couldn't get hard. The pain from not being able to get hard or even relieve himself was bearable but annoying.

But your words had aroused him even more. He was your property. He belonged to you. You owned him. And what you owned you kept safely locked away. 

That night the two of you slept nude. Well, you slept peacefully. Neville hardly got any sleep. You would tease him with your body and he couldn't do anything about it but whine. You gave him a firm warning when his whining became too loud for you to sleep and he was quiet the rest of the night. 

-------

The first day at work Neville was a complete mess. He became embarrassed more easily and refused to look anyone directly in the eye. He felt like everyone knew his secret. Being an auror he could never let anyone know about his secret. That's why he made sure that no one was in the restroom stalls when he used it. He also made sure to lock the door so no one could walk in when he used the urinal. Yes, Neville had matured and became the confident Gryffindor he always was on the inside but you had him tightly wrapped around your finger. And he would do anything you asked of him. 

About 2 weeks in he became more used to the idea of chastity. At work he kept his composure as best he could but once he arrived home he was going mad. His balls were always swollen and he was always aroused. Just thinking about you all the time made him burn for you. 

You were spoiling him more often as he couldn't get any release (you made sure of that as he wasn't allowed to shower alone). You would cook him his favorite meals, draw him bubble baths, massage his back, let him be the little spoon, and as a special reward for being such a good boy you would let him eat you out. You'd even let him hump your leg like a puppy because you knew it wouldn't help his situation.

You noticed that Neville was more compliant these past few weeks and was obviously more sensitive. Just the lightest touch from you and he was leaking through the cage. Seeing him needy and begging turned you on more and he was always eager to lend a helping hand. 

When your period came Neville was more than happy. That meant that he would be free soon and would be allowed to fuck you. That week, Neville was needier than ever. He wanted to be around you more often and called you frequently at work just to talk about mundane things. It was honestly really sweet. He had been such a good boy for the past month that you thought he deserved a reward. 

-------

The day had finally come for when Neville would be released from his chastity cage. You waited until he came home that day to tell him. You had worn the key to his cage around your neck to tease him. You had set a leather collar in front of his plate on the kitchen table and a matching leash in front of yours. 

When Neville arrived home he was welcomed with kisses all over his face. He was surprised to see the key hanging just above your breasts. Then a wave of excitement rushed over him. He picked you up and kissed you on the lips. 

"Today?" He asked, with a little desperation in his voice. 

You brought him down to kiss the top of his forehead. "Don't get too excited, we still have to make food and eat dinner."

"Forget dinner." He tried to persuade you. "Please… I need you." He hugged you tightly, then dropped to his knees. He hugged your legs with all his might so you wouldn't move. 

You loved how desperate he was for you. You decide to skip making dinner and go straight to dessert. 

"Since you've been such a good boy I guess we can skip dinner." You said brushing your fingers through his hair. He sighed with relief and at the feeling of being touched. "But we still have to go to the kitchen." You instructed him to stand by lifting his chin to look up at you. He quickly stood up and followed you into the kitchen. 

You took a seat in front of the leash and directed him to sit in front of the collar. As he sat down he could feel the pain in his balls from being blocked from having an erection. 

"I'll meet you in the bedroom in 10 minutes." You said looking him directly in the eye. "When I get there I want you in nothing but this collar around your neck and the chastity cage of course. You'll wait for me on your knees at the foot of the bed. Got it."

Neville swallowed hard at your words. "Yes mommy." He replied. 

"And a few more things." You smiled devilishly. 

His cock twitched in his pants. 

"I'm giving you permission to cum whenever you want. But you are only allowed to cum inside me. You still have to tell me when you're cumming but you have my permission to cum when you feel like it. Under no circumstances are you allowed to hold it in. Do you understand?"

He tightened his grip on his thighs and his breath got caught in his throat. You never let him cum without permission before and he was almost always edged. He was very excited. 

"I said, do you understand?" You raised a warning eyebrow at him.

"Yes! I do… I do mommy." He was so caught up in his thoughts he forgot to answer you. 

"That's my darling boy." You got and grabbed the leather leash and went to get ready. "I'll be waiting." 

As soon as you left upstairs to the bedroom, Neville practically tore his own clothes off of himself. He quickly threw his clothes into the hamper and washed up as much as he could. His hands were shaking as he tried putting on the collar. He cock twitched in his cage as it strained against the metal. 

He quickly ran upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He got on his knees and waited for you to get out of the master bathroom. His heart was racing as he waited in anticipation. 

You walked out in a sheer bra and panties with the key hanging around your neck. Saliva was practically falling from the side of his mouth as he watched you sit on the edge of the bed with the leash in your hand. You clipped the leash to the collar and wrapped the end on the leash around your hand. 

"Your mine." You pulled the leash harshly towards you and hovered your lips above his. 

"I'm yours." Neville whispered back leaning closer to you. 

Then you grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled him into a wet kiss. He opened his mouth to allow you entrance and your tongue licked the top row of his teeth. He moved closer to you and touched your calves. He twitched in his cage and his tip began to leak as you scratched his nape with your nails. You moved his lips to your neck and he began to suck, kiss, and lick everywhere. He sucked lightly at your collar bone until a light hickey appeared. He wanted to take off your bra and panties but knew better than to act like he was in control. All that you were letting him get away with right now was touching your calf. 

He didn't have to wait long before you took off your bra. You pulled the leash so he was pulled off of you and you quickly unclipped your bra from the front.  

He whined at the sight. All he wanted was to touch you anyway you let him. 

"Suck" You command as you pulled on the leash. 

He brought his mouth to your tits and wrapped his lips around your nipple and closed his eyes in delight. He moaned as he sucked on your nipple and you continued to scratch the back of his head. 

"Mommy…" he moaned against your breast.

"What is it baby?" You cooed. 

"Mommy please" he rested his head against you. 

"Please what. Use your words." You gently grabbed his chin and lifted his face to yours. 

"Mommy it...it hurts. Please unlock me." He begged. 

"Since you asked so nicely." You cooed into his ear.

You took the necklace off and grabbed the key. He eagerly watched as you placed your attention on his locked cock. First you grabbed his balls and gave them a light squeeze. 

"Ahhh…" he moaned at the pain and a blush appeared on his cheeks. 

Then you fiddled with the padlock. You inserted the key into the lock and unlocked it. You took the padlock off and gently took the chastity cage off of him. 

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as you set the cage on the side of the bed. He rested his head on your chest as you caressed his cock. His chest was heaving as his dick became hard. You felt him grow in your hand, which made you wet with pleasure. 

"There, there." You whispered in his ear. "You're doing such a good job. I'm so proud of you. Such a good boy." You said kissing his ear lobe and sucking lightly. 

He mewled against you and squirmed under your touch. He wanted to be inside you already. 

"Good boys get rewards." Your tone was as seductive as possible. 

He twitched in your hand as you spoke. Then you let go of him, making him cry at the loss of contact. You stood up in front of him so that he faced your panties. 

"Take these off me." You instructed, gesturing to your panties. He gently pulled your underwear down to your ankles and you stepped out of them. He leaned in to kiss your front. 

"Ahhh…" you moaned at his sweet kiss. But you quickly pulled him away. 

"Get up." You ordered. 

He quickly got off his knees and stood on his feet. 

You pulled on the leash so he was mere inches away from you. "I want you to put a baby inside me."  

"Yes,  please…. Please let me." Neville begged. 

You pulled on the leash and kissed him harshly. Neville rested his hands on your hips and pulled you close to him. He started to rub up against you. 

You pulled back from the kiss and turned to get on the bed. Neville waited for instructions as you didn't pull on the leash for him to join you. He watched as you landed down on your stomach and lifted your ass up into the air with your knees. You kept your head up as you rested on your elbows. It was always a real treat when you let Neville hit it from behind. When you waited long enough for him to stare straight into your pussy you pulled on the leash hard and he fell onto the bed. He got up to adjust himself just above your vagina but didn't enter you. 

"Can I touch you, please?" He begged. 

"Yes" your breathing became more ragged.

As he placed his hands on your ass you moaned in delight. He massaged your ass gently and a shiver went down your spine.

"Fucking breed this pussy!" You said turning your head to face him. Your voice was commanding and urgent as you pulled on the leash.

Neville instantly started fucking you. His pace was irregular but desperate. He was like a bunny fucking it's mate, fast and wanting. You pulled on the leash so his body draped over you. His hands pushed your hips up more so he could get a better angle and be deeper inside you. 

"Mommy…" he cried into your ear. He kissed your shoulder as he fucked into you. 

"You're doing so good." You cooed. "So good." You moaned as he hit your g spot. 

"Mommy… I'm… I'm gonna cum" He said, shaking above you. 

"Already… well I did say you could cum whenever you needed to. Go ahead, it's alright baby." You reassured him. 

You felt the warmth of his seamen fill you as he continued fucking himself in you. Neville kissed across from your left shoulder to your right shoulder as he let all of his cum leak into you. You wiggled your ass and moaned at the feeling of him twitching inside you. 

You pulled the leash so he was pushed farther up into you. Then you turned your head back to look at him.

"I'm not done with you." You said pulling the leash until his face was close to yours and kissed him passionately. 

"Your gonna fuck me until I tell your to stop." You whispered against his lips. 

He shivered above you when you licked his lips. "Yes mommy."

"Now start fucking this pussy." You said through gritted teeth. "And don't forget to make me cum." 

He fucked deep into your pussy over and over. He was already so sensitive but continued his desperate pace. With his hand wrapped around your waist he reached his hand down between your thighs and circled your clit with his fingers teasingly. He sucked on your shoulder lightly until a light bruise formed. 

"Ahh… you're doing such a good job baby boy." you praise him. 

Neville played with your clit until your walls clenched around his throbbing cock and you came hard all over his cock. This sent Neville over the edge again and he came a second time. You had him fuck you until he had came 5 times and you then some before you stopped him and turned to lay on your back.

"Don't forget to clean your mess." You taunted him with your legs spread wide. 

He obediently lowered his head and used his tongue to lick away his own cum that gushed out of you. 

After he had cleaned his mess (and the mess you had just made on his face while cleaning you) he rested his head on your stomach and hugged you tightly. You combed your fingers through his hair as he whispered "thank yous" He curled up against you as much as possible and rubbed your belly like it was the most precious thing in the world. You took the time to take the collar off of him and gently massaged the areas where they had left small indents in his skin. 

"You're going to be a mommy." He whispered to your belly with eyelids half closed and a dopey grin on his face. 

You smiled down at him. "And you're going to be a daddy." 

He hugged you tighter around your waist. " Thank you." 

Of course you had no idea if you were pregnant or not then. You would have to wait to take the test and see. But even if you weren't pregnant this time there was always the next month and the next month and the next month. You and Neville were going to be busy for a while. 😉

[lovelybarnes]

baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

-

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

-

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

-

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

[theglitterypages]

Haikyuu Boys As Your Boyfriend

******

Bokuto Koutaro

•He's a big baby

•He's the type of boyfriend to hug you all the time, he loves warmth and affection so please be generous enough to give him those.

•Clingy but not in an annoying way, you'll jusy feel like you have a boyfriend and at the same time, a son (LOL)

•Bokuto is the type of person who will always apologize first after arguments. Arguments will be very rare though, because when it comes to you he'll always listen.

•Kou is probably an insecure boyfriend, he thinks more men are much cooler than him that's why he's always working hard to improve himself.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will definitely avoid making you jealous, he'll limit his interactions with women because he doesn't like it when you're jealous, you're cute when you're being jealous but he's afraid that you might leave him.

•Loves kissing you

•He will always tell you how much he loves you.

•Your picture is his wallpaper and lockscreen.

•His IG, FB, Twitter or any other social media platforms is full of you, your pictures. messages for you and stuffs.

•Bokuto is your diary, he loves listening to your rants, it doesn't matter if you guys aren't together, just call him and he's always ready to listen.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will always brag about you, he's just so proud of everything you achieve. It doesn't matter how big or small the achievement is, he will celebrate it no matter what happen.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Baby Bear!” you opened your arms widely as you ran towards your boyfriend. Bokuto lifted you off the ground, he kissed the tip of your nose before putting you down. “I miss you, baby.” he told you as he let his hands rest on your hips.

“I miss you too, sorry if I don't have much time Kou.” you apologized and he just pulled you closer for a hug, “Shh it's fine. I know you're busy, but how's your tests?” he asked.

You looked at him with sad eyes and the poor baby panicked, not knowing what to do, “What? Did you fail? It's alright baby, I'm proud of you, I know how you worked hard for this.” he pressed his lips on yours with a smile, he cupped your face and let his forehead rest on yours before kissing you for another time, much longer than the first one.

“I almost got my exams perfect baby!”

“You scared me! But I know you can do it!” he laughed and showered kisses on your face as he keep on saying how much he loves you and that he's so proud of you.

“HEY, HEY, HEY! MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE PRETTIEST AND THE SMARTEST GIRLFRIEND EVER! SHE ACED HER EXAMS!”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kageyama Tobio

•Cold at the beginning of the relationship

•Kags is not yet used to physical contacts so don't expect much at first.

•But as the time passes by, he'll start wondering how it feels like to keep you in his arms for a long time so he will try and do it once when you two are studying in his house.

•Because Kags loves how warm and comfy it is to hug you, he'll start hugging you a lot (not in public though, he will be so shy)

•He's the type of boyfriend who'll fall asleep while watching movies (Forgive him, playing volleyball is hard)

•He wouldn't call you baby, babe or other endearments but he loves it when you give him one. His favorite endearment? LOVE

•Kags is a supportive boyfriend, he's the first one to cheer you up if you're sad.

•He's sharp as hell so he would always notice if you're not feeling well once he notice that he will do everything he can to make you smile or to make you feel better.

•Loves it when you keep on asking him to carry you.

•He loves the fact that you're shorter than him (Readers, if you're taller than Kags sorry😭)

•He would always walk you home.

•Sweetest thing he do for you? Taking care of your fingernails 💅🏻 he would definitely watch tutorials in applying nail polish. He also takes care of his fingernails so he wanted to do the same for you.

•When it comes to kisses it also take him some time to kiss you, he always wondered how it feels like to kiss you but he doesn't want to creep you out so he'll behave for quite some time.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Tobio, you used the wrong method for this equation.” you called him out, Kageyama was quick to look at the problem that you're pointing out and his mouth gaped open as he realized his mistake. “Sorry, I'll do it again.” you giggled and showed him your homework, “Look at mine and compare it to yours, both methods are similar but they will have different answers so beware.” Kageyama started revising his answer while you continued studying for the another subject.

When he was done he looked at you just to see you so focused on what you're doing, you were pouting while answering your own homework and he couldn't help but stare at your pinkish lips.

You two have been dating for almost a year and you two haven't kissed because Kageyama is too shy to make the first move but right now he couldn't help but be tempted.

“Y/N, look at me.”

When you looked up at him, he immediately grabbed your nape and pressed his lips on yours. He was still unsure of how to do it but he did his best and boy, Kags is not too bad for a first timer.

When he pulled away you couldn't help but look at him completely dumbfounded. He will chuckle on your expression and will lean down to press his lips on yours for the second time.

“I love you.” he whispered.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kuro Tetsuro

•The type of boyfriend who acts like a Dad (no one can change my mind)

•Kuro will definitely keep on reminding you that eating vegetables is good for you.

•He will monitor your sleeping routine. He would even buy scented candles for you to help you sleep.

•He's so smart so expect him to help you in studying.

•Kuro is addicted to kisses, he will always do everything in his power to steal a kiss from you even if it's in front of his teammates.

•He will tease you a lot for being smaller than him but once you get pissed he'll stop and he will keep on bugging you until you finally agree to forgive him.

•He will always talk about you, in fact he never shuts up about you to the point that Kenma is asking you what kind of love spell did you put in Kuro. He'll politely ask you to decrease the effect of the ‘love spell’

•Kuro loves pinching your cheeks (it hurts so you will get mad) once you get mad he'll be showering kisses all over your face and will talk to you in a baby voice saying things like, “Oh look at baby YN looking so cute with red cheeks. Sorry baby, come here I'm gonna kiss the pain away.”

•What is the sweetest thing that Kuro did to you? He installed a period tracker app on his phone, so he can remember your cycle. If you're on your period, expect Kuro to be extra gentle. He won't tease you or anything, he will buy you snacks and he will always check up on your mood.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“YN, the captain of volleyball club is looking for you.” says one of your classmates. You smiled at your classmate and nod but before you could stand up from your seat, Kuro is already in front of you, “How're you feeling? Do you want to go home? Internet says ginger tea is good for reducing nausea during period.” your eyes widened and you covered his mouth using your hands.

“You don't have to announce to everyone that I'm on my period Tetsu!” you whispered yell and he gently removed your hands from his mouth. “Okay, calm down. Sorry, I know that there's a whole lot scientific process going on inside you, I understand your outburst. I brought snacks for you.” he lifted the plastic bag on his left hand and smiled at you.

You were about to smile back at him but you realized something, “How did you know I'm on my period?” Kuro blinked for a few times before clearing his throat, “I saw the period tracker on your phone, I installed the same thing on mine so I can monitor your period. My Mom told me periods are uncomfortable and painful so I just want to do what I can for my dearest girlfriend.” your heart melted at that and you started crying, Kuro's eyes widened as he pulled you close to his chest.

“Shh, baby what did I do?”

“Nothing. It's just that...I love you so much.”

“Oh experts believe that the drop in estrogen and progesterone, which occurs after ovulation, triggers mood swings during or before your period.” Kuro whispered as he caress your back gently. You sniffed and hugged him tighter still crying because you just felt so loved. “These hormones reduce production of serotonin, a chemical neurotransmitter, it's natural to be emotional, baby.” you looked up at your boyfriend and when you saw how serious he was you just couldn't help but laugh.

“You're such a nerd. God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

[ihaveitprinteddout]

I was going to try and avoid reblogging on here bc I didn't want to spam you pero, I can't help it so lo siento amiga 🙈

"Why would anyone want to be with him? A man nearing forty, who hadn’t been in a relationship since he left a woman at the altar, and slept around so much he gained a reputation. He wasn’t ideal. He was damaged goods, and he worried that he wasn’t good enough." MY HEART. I remember my heart hurting the first time I read this and my heart still aches the same bc this man really feels these things about himself :( yes he obviously was a man whore and yes he may have left a woman at the altar pero, we know that not only was the Lorraine situation complicated but he's definitely coped with everything he dealt with in Colombia by 'fucking away' the pain. None of that makes him any less worthy of being loved and cherished and cared for though 😭😭😭

"He wanted to do things differently with her—there was something between them that he didn’t want to fuck up because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He wanted to show her that he liked her for her, not just because he wanted to get between the sheets with her. He’d date her properly and let her get to know him before they jumped into bed together. It would be a test of his restraint, but he was determined. Cielito had him feeling a way he’d never felt before, and he didn’t want to ruin it." I LOVE YOU SIR!!! I think the thing I love about this particular part is that he's acknowledging that he knows he's obviously done some fucked up things in the past especially when it comes to women and relationships therefore, he wants to do things right with Cielito. It takes a lot to actually admit you've fucked up things in the past and you want to do things differently now so I'm here for it 👏🏽😭

“Oh, yeah. A reminder of just how easy it is to slip your hand up under it.” “Easy access, if you wanted.” MA'AMMM, she is such a tease and I fucking love it 😂 gotta play em @ their own game 🤭

“We’re going to dinner,” “We’re going to dinner, and I’m not bending you over the couch and fucking you in this pretty dress.” SIRRR, how dare you threaten me with a good time?!?!

“Our first time won’t be against the couch. I’m spreading you out on a bed, eating your pussy until you tell me to stop, and fucking you until you can’t walk. I’m going to take my time—worship you like you deserve.” DIOS MÍOOO, WHERE THE HOLY WATER WHEN YOU NEED IT BC THIS IS SO DELICIOUSLY SINFUL 🥵🙈

“I haven’t dated in a long time. A very long time. Nothing past a first date that usually ended in sex. I’m tired of only knowing someone’s first name and how they like to be fucked.” I have such a deep appreciation for how honest and straight up he is being with her, it's kinda melting me inside 🥺🙈

“So, you want to go on a few dates and actually get to know me?” “Yes, I do.” OK but like where can I find a real life Javi bc men these days do not be like this and I am SICK OF IT 😂😭

"It took less than a minute of trying to remember the digits of Pi and flexing for him to be ready" this man is recalling math equations, he is THAT hard 😂 (did I use the phrase 'math equations' wrong? probably 🙈)

“I honestly couldn’t care less what people say about me, and if people are so fucking fascinated, they can talk all they want. All that matters is I’m happy, and I hope you are too.” YES MA'AMMM, LOVE THIS!!!

“I wasn’t much for numbers either. Only thing I can recall are some digits of Pi.” Oh believe me, we know 😏😂

I LOVE THESE TWO W MY WHOLE HEART AND LORDDD THIS FIC/SERIEs, PERFECTION 😭

Learning to Live Part 2

summary: Javi takes you on a second date.

rating: M (18+ Soft!Javier Peña, no y/n, dual pov, feelings, making out, suggestive language, ass grab, teasing Javi.)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 5600+

A/N: Hi there! I was blown away by the response to part one! Thank you all SO MUCH. I’m having to split this chapter into 2 parts because it is long. It’s the second date, and we see Javi’s POV. Keep in mind this is post-Colombia and post-S3 Narcos. Javi is tired and lonely, and trying to figure out what to do with himself. There are a lot of feelings. This is as always dedicated to my love, @juletheghoul and thank you to my amazing beta @invisibleismyname.

Comments and reblogs appreciated!

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[hermannsthumb]

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

----

"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

[yoonsshadow]

Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory​ 

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys. 

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

[snarkwrites]

six sexy words | lip gallagher ; wondering what your kiss feels like.

Notes:

Oh hello, hi. Guess whose inspiration has finally come back from the war? A while back, I was linked this really neat prompt list by a dear friend of mine and it.. Sparked a few things. So... I guess this is me, starting a new one shots collection?

All of these come from my own mind and I don't take requests for one shots / prompts, btw.

Prompts:

taken from either [ here ] or [ here ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

wondering what your kiss tastes like, be careful what you ask for and a swirling tongue and nibbling teeth were the ones I used / hinted at here.

Fandom / Character:

Shameless | Lip Gallagher x OFC.

Warnings:

Uhh.. Given that it's been a few minutes since I wrote any actual decent smut content (and that's not me being hard on myself, that's me being totally honest, lmaooo) I'm choosing to start this off a little bit tamer.. Dipping my toes in here. Kiddos can stay for now because as spicy as this gets is a heated makeout?

Making out. Kissing. Swapping spit. Thas all, folks.

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only one currently on my Shameless tag list, so...

** if you want to be tagged in my Shameless stuff, lmk!!**

Other Stuff:

[ about my writing | tag list doc - if you want to be tagged, that is. | fandoms I write for]

“ Are you even listenin to me, doll?” Lip’s voice cut through yet another daydream and I muttered a quiet,dazed response as I glanced up at him. He snickered and then with a smirk, he asked me to repeat what he’d just explained to me.

My mouth opened and closed and the more I tried to focus and remember what he’d been telling me about the equation, the more I struggled to remember. My face burned hot and I tensed a little, huffing out “When will we ever even use this?” in my own defense.

“Svetlana asked me to tutor you. To catch you up.” Lip explained patiently. He gazed at me and I could feel myself slipping out into la la land all over again, imagining what would happen if I just leaned in a little… Maybe grabbed the front of that blue thermal shirt and pulled his mouth against mine. The contrast of his rough mouth against the softness of mine. The taste of cigarettes and soda. My fingers dragging through his hair.

Just the vivid scenario my mind created had me biting my lip. Lost in his eyes and in my daydreams all over again. I shook my head when he snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“Yes?” I asked, a brow raised.

“You’re a million miles away today, Sveta. What’s up?”

I gulped.

Every part of me wanted to tell him exactly what was going on in my head, but there were more than a few things stopping me. For one, there was the fact that my older sister Svetlana would most likely be disappointed. I didn’t want to disappoint her. For another, I was quite sure that I was nothing more than a novelty to Lip. An outsider with a funny accent. A friend, maybe. He has a girlfriend.

,, He has a whore who calls herself his girlfriend and doesn’t treat him the way he deserves.” the thought was enough to have me wrinkling my nose in disgust. Anything involving Karen Jackson tended to do that to me, if we’re being completely honest.

Lip must have noticed the look of disgust. He chuckled and shut the book firmly. Then he rose from the sofa in the Gallagher’s living room and held out his hand to me.

I eyed his hand and gradually, found my gaze drifting back up. Settling on his face. The amused look in his eyes.

“C’mon. Your stomach’s growled at least twice. And I saw ya give Mandy your lunch money earlier, Sveta. We ain’t got much.. Maybe if you get somethin to eat in ya, you’ll pay attention better...” Lip smirked at me as he suggested it.

After finally managing to tear my eyes away from the high definition baby blue gaze I was currently drowning in, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. Letting him pull me up. When he did so, I wound up smashing against him lightly. Our eyes locked again and I licked my lips as my gaze wandered down, settling on his. “Maybe food will help me concentrate.” I agreed quietly.

“Let’s hope so, huh? You got that test tomorrow, right? Yeah, Mr. Ventura’s a dick, so if you don’t pass it’s gonna make it three times as hard to catch up.” Lip mused as he stepped back a little and turned, wandering into the kitchen. I pouted to myself at the broken physical contact and followed him into the room, leaning in the doorway.

Watching him as he fixed two huge sandwiches and then helped himself to a beer and asked me if I wanted anything.

,, to kiss you.” i thought to myself, but I shoved the silly thought out and stepped into the room fully. Slinking over to the counter and picking up the sandwich he’d made for me, taking a big bite. Groaning as the flavors exploded in my mouth, wiping the back of my hand at my mouth because I just knew that I had mustard on my lips.

Lip was the one staring at me now.

Intently.

I lowered my hand and after swallowing the bite I’d taken, I tilted my head slightly. “What? Is something wrong?”

I hate the sound of my own voice, my Russian accent so thick that it definitely stands out.

Lip leaned in and down a little, raising a hand. Taking the edge of his long sleeve top to wipe at the corner of my mouth. “You uh.. Mustard. You had mustard on your mouth...” he muttered quietly, his gaze lingering on my lips.

I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s gone.” Lip answered quietly, his words trailing off as his mouth inched just a little closer to mine. His hand moved to my hair, smoothing my bangs back out of my eyes and then lingering on the side of my face. He gulped. Took a long and deep breath.

“Now you’re the one whose mind is wandering.” I frowned, confused.

What Lip chose to respond with caught me totally off guard. Not nearly as off guard as what came after that, but it left me wide eyed in shock.

“Just wonderin’ what would happen if I kissed you right now… How it’d feel.” Lip mumbled quietly right as he closed the distance between our faces and his mouth met the corner of mine clumsily.

I wasn’t so shocked that I froze.

Instead, I raised a hand, resting it across the back of his neck as I molded my body against his and used my grip to pull his mouth back against mine, muttering softly in response, “If you want to do something, Philip… Do it. Life is too short to wonder.”

Lip’s hands wandered down, settling on my ass as he lifted me and sat me on the countertop, moving to step between my legs. His mouth crashed against mine deeper, the taste of beer and cigarettes and the sandwich he’d been eating filling my mouth. The scent of his body wash filling my nose and sending a warm shiver through my body. His tongue parted my lips and I dug my fingertips into his neck as I worked to keep up with the frenzied pace of it as it clashed with mine, swirling.

I nipped and tugged at his bottom lip and he gave a quiet groan, scooping me forward on the counter so that I was totally pressed against him. A whimper rose up from my throat, escaping my mouth and lingering in the air between us as the kiss broke and we pulled apart to breathe.

Lip wiped at his mouth, taking a few shaky breaths as he stared at me, unblinking. In a thoughtful daze.

“Well?” I questioned, leaning against him just a little. Awkwardly. Ready to move the second he indicated that he’d made a mistake. I fully expected that to be what happened next. When it wasn’t, I was the one staring at him in a daze this time.

Lip was already leaning back in, going for the kill as he gave a goofy smirk. “Something I wouldn’t mind doin again.” he muttered right as his mouth crashed into mine and my lips parted in anticipation...

[caffeinated-cryptid]

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy.  Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with  him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn’t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

[manicpixiess]

✨coaching kid aesthetic✨ (for my desi stem gang where y’all at)

I have been in 12th grade for approximately fifteen months now (my thanks, Ramesh Pokhriyal, it’s been fun :) ) and if I don’t romanticise studying for entrances, I Simply Will Not Do It, so here goes!

~ that ever-growing pile of dry, used up pens that you cannot bring yourself to discard because goddamn it took a lot of effort to get them that way

~ finding yourself caught in a rabbit hole on chemistry stack exchange at 2 in the morning, because you’ll be damned if you let that one possibly irrelevant question on the DPP sheet slide

~ standing around the momo/ assorted shady street food stall outside the coaching centre, wasting that sweet, sweet fifteen minute break discussing a deliciously unsolvable question with your academic rivals; for a while you’re all just confused kids together, and it’s not that bad

~ quiet moments of absolute despair in between classes or after a test or at your desk after a long day, because oh god there’s hundreds of thousands of people writing this exam and I can’t compete with any of them

~ flipping through your full rough books once the last page has been completely covered with scribbled equations, because I did that I did that I did all of that

~ your walls are a collage of zany inspirational posters that your parents thought would somehow help, pages and pages of organic reaction mechanisms, handy math formulae, tiny physics concepts that are so important and so forgettable, salt analysis spreads that you know you won’t give a second glance

~ finding a youtube video from a Kota coaching centre or a 7 year old reddit thread that exactly answers the ultra specific question you had is as close as you’ve come to happiness in 3 years (followed closely by solving a hard question from one of those textbooks that no one remembers the actual name of, it’s just the author’s name)

~ the only revision you need before a test is the notes you scrawled to yourself that fill the covers and end pages of your notebooks; most of them are quite profane and that is okay, it drives the point home 

~ stacking all your reference books and textbooks into a tottering pile, laughing hysterically as it grows taller than you 

~ books everywhere; on your bed, on your desk, on your parents’ bed, in the kitchen, in the closet; an aggrieved do you really need them all from a family member. Yes, you think, but don’t say, because it’s more a fact from here and a reaction from there than anything else

~ saturday morning classes; watching the sunlight streaming in through the window while learning something fanciful and difficult, eating lime and orange popsicles with your friends, everyone pretending to hate it, but really, they’re all happy.

~ going from nervous, to eager, to tired, just tired over the course of two years; sleep is for the weak, your friends tell each other as you all stay up till the sun rises, cramming for something that will be forgotten in a week. You fall asleep anywhere, anytime, because it’s been so long since you slept a full eight hours 

~ reminiscing about tenth grade, the good old days, but you know that these are the friends you’ll remember for the rest of your life; nothing brings people together quite like common suffering, after all

~ talking often of all the things you could be doing if didn’t have to study, but really, you wouldn’t know what to do yourself

~ saying no, over and over again, to all the people who call you out, to family engagements, to other friends, because you’ve lived so long in this world that you’ve forgotten what it’s like on the other side

~ the group chat after 3 am is for detailing exactly how you screwed are for the next day’s test, for a friend to point out that they are, in fact, more screwed than you (discussions on what exactly the point of life is are also allowed)

~ coming out of exam rooms sweaty and relieved, because no one will expect anything of you for the next fortnight, waiting outside them for your friends to finish so you can have a collective freakout (you can’t be the only one who forgot about instantaneous axes of rotation and acid catalysed aldol reactions, right? Right?)

~ your friends are your therapists, and you are theirs, because even (or especially) in a system intent on pitting kids against each other, you rely on each other to keep (some approximation of) happy and motivated 

~ jokes about being sad, scared, tired, angry, hurt; because feeling any of it takes up more time than can be spared

~ ink stained hands, heavy bags, clothes that are loose and old

~ regular schoolwork is ignored, bio/comp labs are gossip sessions, physics labs are for getting confused when g isn’t 9.8, chemistry labs are for unleashing pyromaniacal chaos 

~ it’s either one question taking up an entire day or 200 questions in 4 hours, there’s no in between 

~ looking at the stars in the sky after a late class, thinking that some day, you’ll be far away from here, doing something you love; then thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all bad 

[c-is-for-circinate]

Thinking today about viruses, allergies, oppression, and anti culture.

(under a cut because WHOOOPS this got long)

Racism is a virus. Homophobia, transphobia, sexism, antisemitism, ableism, etc etc etc, they are all viruses--a topic that many of us have learned a great deal about in the past year. They are ideas, yes, not literal physical diseases, but the analogy holds up. They are infectious, and often spread from person to person without anyone involved realizing they have it. They can sit latent for years, never showing up because the carrier never finds themselves in a situation where the issue comes up, only to flare up and take over when you least expect it. And they mutate, just like the flu, just like the common cold; they put on a new jacket every year and slide in undetected yet again, slip past our internal sensors and bury themselves in our brains until we go in and deal with them as best as we can.

One more thing we've learned about viruses this year is how we can fight them. The viruses of oppression are a little different because they tend to hurt the people around their carriers even more than the people they've infected (although let's talk about internalized anything-ism sometime), but in a lot of ways the attack is the same. You treat the symptoms even when you don't know how to cure the disease: we invest in respirators, antiviral treatments, hospitals; we create and sponsor programs to help those who've been hurt by various oppressions, we uplift our neighbors, we try to keep people safe from violences both big and small. You work to stop the spread: we wear our goddamn masks, we stay home when we can; we train ourselves not to say racist shit that might foster a culture of hate, we stop that guy in our office from making rape jokes, we make slurs unacceptable. You pay attention to your immune system: we seek medical attention when we experience symptoms, we get COVID tests, we talk to our doctors before the symptoms get deadly; we protest and we pay attention to the people who do, we take them seriously when they tell us that something is wrong.

You vaccinate. We train ourselves and our immune systems to recognize the thing that infects us, the thing that we fear. We try to teach our children about history, bit by little bit, on fragments of dead violence the same way we train our bodies on dead virus shells, so that someday they'll recognize the live disease when they see it. We learn about slavery and Jim Crow and the Holocaust. We tell kids bedtime stories about why hitting and bullying is bad, before we ever start teaching them the specific shapes that violence so often takes. As we get older, as we get stronger, we learn about the living stuff, all the new forms that same old virus has mutated into; we educate ourselves, we listen, we read. Just like vaccines, of course, there are anti-vaxxers and denialists shouting about how racism and sexism are already dead and they don't need any propoganda besides Fox News. Hell, just like anti-maskers, there are plenty of people screaming about how political correctness is ruining the world and they demand their right to spread their virus to anyone they can. Often these are the same people.

But we try. And make no mistake, we all of us are already infected, and just like a real virus, once you've caught it once it probably won't ever go away again--but we can prepare, and we can try to lessen the severity of our cases, and we can support our immune systems of activists and protesters and our own internal sense of this is wrong, and we can work, bit by bit, if not towards eradication (not yet, not in this world, but maybe someday in another), then at least towards control.

And then there's allergies.

An allergy is what happens when a human body's own immune system freaks out over an enemy that wasn't particularly harmful in the first place. All our immune defenses--those precious immune defenses, which work so hard to protect us against all those viral, deadly ideas--go screaming into high gear. All of that fear and fury and attack power gets brought to bear all at once, against a bit of pollen or bee venom or cat dander or peanuts, and your body is left itchy and runny-nosed and gasping--sometimes literally--as it tries to keep up. Allergies are miserable. Sometimes they're life-threatening. And the biggest danger isn't the foreign agent that triggers the allergic reaction; it's the immune system trying to fight it in the first place.

Which, yes, brings us to anti culture--but not JUST anti culture. It's a good example, a little internet-centric microcosm of the same force that drives progressives to tear bloody shreds out of moderate liberal politicians. Hell, it's the same force that enables both TERFs and the Capitol rioters. It's a combination of an immune system that points in the wrong direction, flagging the wrong thing as bad, terrifying, danger, NO, and a freaked-out response that can manifest as anything from mildly irritating to absolutely deadly.

To be clear, I am not by any means equating the scale or even the source of these things, any more than hayfever is the same as anaphylactic shock. Likewise, the sources are different. Sometimes, a disease can infect an immune system and point it in the wrong direction. (Terror of the other is the absolute cornerstone of white nationalism, and when that terror gets triggered by a harmless environmental condition like, god forbid, other people asking for rights, the allergy response can be deadly.) Other times, it's the other way around. Our internal immune systems, so well trained to protect ourselves and those around us from the insidious viral ravages of prejudice and oppression, start seeing traces of it everywhere.

And they freak out. And we suffer for it.

We talk a lot of well-deserved shit about TERFs, but it's useful to remember how much their nastiness feels to them like activism. Their immune system, trained and primed and sensitized over years of exposure to misogyny and sexism, catches the tiniest whiff of something that might seem at some point to have possibly been taken for male, and freaks out, because why is that trying to get into our system. Never mind that they're wrong. An immune system that flips out over penicillin is wrong, too. It's still trying to help, and it's still doing more harm than good trying it.

So bringing this back around to anti culture, which was absolutely where I started thinking about all of this this morning: anti culture, the terror of porn and the attempt by antis to protect themselves an other people from sexual content, is an immune response. It is a trained immune response, in people who have been taught and re-taught again and again that rape culture is a dangerous insidious virus that should be fought at all costs. And, right, there's more than a bit of 'the sexism virus infected this immune system and reprogrammed it to fight itself' involved here, but look, we are all of us infected with all of the viruses at least a little bit everywhere. If we tried to direct our immune systems to rip every last shred of -ism out of every last bit of us, we'd rip ourselves apart. Which is exactly the problem.

Porn, in and of itself, is natural. As natural as environmental pollen, and living near dogs and cats, and eating wheat or nuts or citrus fruit. It's even healthy, for a whole host of reasons that belong in another essay. And citric acid and nut-based proteins and whole grains are nutritious, and pets are physically and psychologically helpful, and being exposed to lots of different environmental substances as a child can actually help train your immune system in the first place. Porn can help us figure out what we like. It can help us figure out what we don't like. And while the processes that create it are sometimes unethical and awful, we don't condemn all dogs because puppy mills and dogfighting rings exist, even if we do have dog allergies.

What we see in anti culture is often a good-faith attempt on the part of antis to attack and subdue an environmental trigger that they read as dangerous. It's a panic attack over something that is by nature harmless or mildly harmful, blown out of proportion by the very instincts that are supposed to keep us safe. It's the response of an immune system that's been taught over years and years, by everyone from parents to school systems to the activists they look up to, that negative stimulus is to be feared, avoided, and fought. Of COURSE they're going to freak out.

And of course, early exposure to controlled amounts of allergens can help prevent later allergies from developing. Of course when kids are raised with abstinence-only education, sheltered from the very concept of sex, they're going to grow up allergic to it. (Of course they're going to try to protect other kids from the same, like worried mothers who refuse to let peanuts or wheat products or dirt near their precious babies, whose kids grow up with a whole suite of allergic triggers because their bodies never learned what was okay in the first place.) And no, that doesn't mean we hand pornography to ten-year-olds any more than we should give raw honey to an infant--but of course if our culture refuses to introduce kids to the fact that sex and desire and the inside of their own brain can be messy and silly and kinky and downright weird, we're going to have a higher rate of allergic reaction to the entire concept in adults.

I wish I had a better answer for what to do with understanding that this is what's going through so many people's brains. The best I have is a prescription for allergy-sufferers, who probably haven't read this far through this wordspew of an essay in the first place--but we all get a little hayfever once in a while, and we all sometimes run into content that makes us angry. So some thoughts on how to deal with metaphorical allergic reactions, inspired by the ways we deal with literal ones?

First: we recognize that what is happening is an allergy. The thing we're reacting to might be gross, or irritating, or even unpleasant, but the danger is not and never has been the thing itself. Whether it's triggering a response because of its similarity to an actively dangerous pathogen, or our immune system just doesn't like it, our aversion to one kind of story or another universally says more about us than about it. Luckily, we have a lot more control over our social responses than our biological ones!!! If vocal activism is our sociocultural immune system firing itself up to fight an infection that may or may not exist, then we get to tell our metaphorical white blood cells to stand down. We get to decide.

Second: we get some space. The funny thing about allergies is, while early exposure to allergens can help prevent them, re-exposing yourself to dangerous allergens after you've already developed a reaction to them can make them worse. Anaphylaxis is always more likely after someone's experienced it the first time. Repeated exposure to triggers, whether biological or psychological, can make the effects worse. So stop exposing yourself.

If something makes your throat itch every time you eat it, stop eating it. If something makes you mad every time you read it, stop reading it. Obviously this can be easier said than done in a world that's a lot worse about warning labels on stories than ingredients labels on foods, but that's why fic tags exist. And: sometimes, the croissant is delicious enough that we decide we're willing to suffer through the way the almonds make us feel, just this once. Sometimes the ship or the characterization or, hell, those other kinks that we really like are tasty enough that we'll put up with the trope we hate. We're allowed to do that. But we do it knowing there will be consequences, and we don't blame the baker when they hit.

We also don't have to blame ourselves. It sucks to be allergic to shellfish when all your friends are raving about the new seafood place. But that's not our fault any more than it's theirs.

Third: sometimes, if we need one, we go to the doctor. Or a therapist. Yes, really.

Not because there's anything really wrong with an aversion or even mild breakouts of hives, annoyance, and bitching in your friends' DMs--but it sure isn't pleasant, and sometimes your doctor might have a better solution than 'avoid it and take a Benadryl' that makes you feel a little better in the long run. And sometimes, it's not a mild breakout. Sometimes it's the kind of story that lingers with you for days, makes your skin crawl; sometimes your throat swells up and it gets hard to breathe. Sometimes we get angry enough about something we've read that we can't stand down our immune system, don't want to stop ourselves from writing that angry comment, that tumblr post, that abuse report to the mods for something that didn't actually break any rules. And that's dangerous, because when our immune response can flare out of control like that, we don't always know where and when it will happen next, and the risk of what we'll do if it happens gets way, way higher.

Sometimes it really is worth getting a second opinion. Sometimes you need somebody to tell you, "actually, it is not normal to get tingly and sweaty every time you eat potatoes." There are ways to train your brain and leash your white blood cells that I sure as heck am not expert enough to address. There are, it turns out, ways to feel better. There are ways to mitigate the damage your own well-meaning defense mechanisms might do to yourself or other people along the way.

And: we can take a deep breath when someone with an allergy to something we've baked, something we've written, something we like, is lashing out trying to protect themselves and everyone around them from something they've registered as a threat. Of course they're wrong. Yes, we told them there were tree nuts in the brownies ahead of time; yes, they chose to eat them anyway. But it can be worth reminding them and ourselves that there's a difference between "this thing is toxic" and "this harmless thing has driven my own system into a defensive response that sure makes it feel like I've been poisoned." And it can be worth reminding ourselves as well as them that sometimes, that difference can be really hard to spot.