#bc i'm about to send some ppl some asks!!

[melkor-did-nothing-wrong]

┏┓ ┃┃╱╲ In this ┃╱╱╲╲ house ╱╱╭╮╲╲ we love ▔▏┗┛▕▔ & appreciate ╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲    Wholesome Angbang ╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲ ▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔

[necrotic-nephilim]

your Kon post was sooooo good, like yes the core four are queer platonic, however Kon is hypersexual enough to have made out with (or more) everyone in young justice at least once, yes, including the non-corporal Greta don’t ask me how that worked

I love all of these posts!!! how many of these ask game things do you have in your inbox??

thank you so much!! and i ABSOLUTELY agree with you on hypersexual Kon (truly i just adore characters with grooming/rape trauma like Kon coping through the lense of hypersexuality) and even if YJ is queerplatonic, Kon has made his way through most of them. including Greta. he's creative he'd find a way. probably involving TTK. bc TTK in sex is a thought i have daily. endless potential for using it to basically turn someone's body into a living fleshlight he can manipulate from the inside out- specifically have a TimKonBart idea in my head about that where Kon coaches Bart through sex, since Bart is a speedster with a bonkers refractory period who struggles to feel satisfied, and Tim is caught between them getting used to get Bart off with Kon using TTK to manipulate Tim's body. fun times. fun ideas.

currently, i have one more ask game ask in my inbox (tho always feel free to send more!) that's BruJay focused. though i *do* also have a couple other asks that are just ideas i pan to use as prompts for full fics. just haven't gotten to those yet bc i'm currently busy with packing to move states so. i have *not* had the time to write i wish i had. i will not reveal too much but one involves JayTim fucking during the Titans Tower incident, another is JayTim with animal traits leading to porn, and then another is Tim/Kon/Jon with incest kink stuff. so! i have many things planned, i just need to settle into my new place, however long that takes.

[arrietty-rune]

Sometimes i feel useless and annoying

[acerikus]

Please don't send discourse/callouts to my askbox out of the blue, especially if I don't know you. I don't have the energy for this kinda thing and it also just feels like... Kinda a breach of boundaries if we don't even know each other y'know?

[bylertruther]

I think ppl mix up gnc with androgynous too! Its pretty easy to confuse in this era but the distinction is important

you're absolutely right, mal! i drafted a long post about this earlier this morning, but i'll copy and paste it below now that you gave me the opportunity to stand on my soap box again hehe. :p

gender nonconformity is not just a man painting his nails, a woman refusing to shave, or someone being transgender. gender expression and variance do not start and end at one's physical presentation, nor is it directly tied to your gender identity itself. cis people can be gnc, trans people can be gnc. you can be a man that dresses like a lumberjack and still be gnc. you can be a woman that wears makeup and still be gnc. you can transition and still be gnc after. gender nonconformity encompasses behavior, interests, and appearance, and it has to do with how an individual interacts with gender roles, which we know are based on stereotypes held at large by society—stereotypes that are still largely common today. and this is a modern definition, by the way, not one plucked from an eighties textbook. not everything is about physical appearances and just because people associate gender nonconformity with one rigid and specific thing does not mean that it is that thing. the same way that androgynous does not only mean a skinny white person that is either a butch woman or a man with long hair, gnc does not only mean said skinny white man painting his nails or said skinny white woman getting an undercut and letting her pits grow out. gnc does not HAVE to be ONLY how you groom or dress yourself. gnc has A LOT to do with behaviors and interests, and the world is not nearly as liberal as it is on tumblr.com lol. some people know better, especially as many millennials start to rear newer generations, but we're still not at an at-large cultural shift, and the gender norms discussed in psychology and psychosexual textbooks have not changed too much as a result. high levels of sensitivity and empathy are still presently seen as being aspects of male gender nonconformity. it is still something that many gay and nonconforming men, as well as their parents, state in studies and surveys about this. sensitive men still face homophobia and misogyny. american men are still expected to not show emotion, work hard, and be the big bad protectors. many people are starting to see that it's a load of bullshit, but it's still considered the norm! gender roles are culturally specific and i think it's just unrealistic to act like western culture, specifically and especially mainstream traditional american culture, doesn't promote the idea of the aggressive, red-blooded alpha male lol. i don't agree with gender norms bc i'm a dirty leftist but that doesn't mean that they don't exist and that society does not push them on everyone and punish those who dare to say no. some things have changed, but not nearly as many as people think and taking a look at how people vote or just talking to people outside of your immediate bubble will show you that pretty quickly. we're unfortunately set to wait a good while before the tides start to really change and we start seeing these less conservative views prevail. and until then... yeah, sensitive men are still assumed to be lesser men and gay and feminine and so on and so forth by young and old people alike in 2023. literally just look at the knee-jerk reaction that so many people have on here and twitter when you talk about how will actually acts on the show. i just. hewwo. gnc is not just looks 😔 and it doesn't automatically make you trans either. 😔 and unless some of you were raised in a literal bubble on a leftist commune somewhere, i know that you know that the world is not as kind and open-minded as you're acting like it is.

[jeonglixie]

.

[grokebaby]

I love you oc asks in my inbox ❤️

[itneverendshere]

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake. You knew it the moment you walked in, the thumping music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

But somehow, you’d caved, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right. Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room. There were people everywhere—laughing, dancing, chattering loudly in clumps—and the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

So, you did what you always did in these situations: you found a place to hide. After walking through the drunk college students, you eventually ended up on quiet nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study. Blessedly, it was empty. With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the noise of the party changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t even notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word. He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled hair and a loose, easy grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

Oh, God. You knew him—well, of him, at least. He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Until now.

Then his face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, somehow managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he seriously calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed. Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls practically draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out like he owned the place.

“See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Right.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his gaze roaming over your face “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward. “My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and for a moment, he looked almost sober. “Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class. “Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that almost looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk. This didn’t mean anything. He probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

But then, his eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair. Within seconds, he was snoring. You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter. You were just getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends. But it wasn’t.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he said casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair like this was completely normal. “Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You stared at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, all cocky charm. “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

And for some reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

But Rafe just leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least. Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing. Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured smirk.

You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look as if daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess,” he replied, voice low and teasing.

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in slightly so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, trying to ignore the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, shifting just a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you. It was infuriating. And yet, when you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

But Rafe just smirked, his gaze drifting lazily up and down your face before flicking back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit. 

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention was like a physical thing—intense and all-consuming. It made you uneasy. 

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, tuning out the heat of Rafe’s gaze. Professor Callahan was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look. “I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t even blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile. “Sorry, Professor. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?” he whispered, leaning closer.

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream. How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?” He leaned in again, eyes bright with mischief. “You want me to go back to ignoring you?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that, princess.”

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly. The room buzzed with students shuffling out, but you kept your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, all casual charm, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt, but the way he looked at you—with that infuriatingly lazy grin—told you he could see right through you.

“Cool. I’m starving.” He said it like it was an invitation, like he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic. People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, curious and disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

But Rafe just flashed you that cocky, confident grin. “Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch, he said, like this wasn’t completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already steering you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle. 

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and they still managed to look up as one, their expressions morphing from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover. “What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing some kind of glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the most interesting girl on campus.���

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could practically see their brains short-circuiting. Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

But he just smirked, his gaze sliding over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare. But that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, like she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused. “What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? That Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird. You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. And yet, here he was, acting like sitting with you at lunch was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Now, what do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange like it was some sort of bizarre performance. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, his smile smug. “Be right back.”

And then, to your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the hell just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—thank God—but he didn’t exactly tone down his usual cocky self either. By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends just enough to leave them confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to move on to his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment. But of course, he wasn’t known for playing by the rules.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. The library was your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and blissfully free of distractions. At least, until Rafe sauntered in. You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes. The library was busy, students murmuring as they worked, the rustle of pages and the faint clack of keyboards filling the air. You were hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it—

You stiffened, glancing up cautiously, and there he was.

He leaned against the bookshelf a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you with a lazy, assessing look. He didn’t move, just watched you, his lips quirking in that infuriating smirk when your eyes met.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously. No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” he said easily, pushing off the bookshelf and strolling over to your table. He pulled out the chair across from you, dropping into it like he had every right to be there. “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today, princess.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You are… I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

Your mouth fell open. “Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about? This was insane. He didn’t just hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived. And yet, here he was, sitting across from you in the library like this was normal.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. This was absurd. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a strange, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. Like, you actually care.”

“I—I do care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that, like he actually meant it?

Before you could even begin to untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

But he didn’t even glance at you. He just kept staring down the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re just sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, your mouth going dry. “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes were dark, intense, locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. Surely, following you to lunch and then ��protecting” you in the library was enough.

So when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Because somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“Come on, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus. The music was already blaring, the heavy bass vibrating through your body. People were packed in the main room, laughing, talking, drinking, the buzz of chatter filling the air.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. After a few minutes you managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall. Maybe if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the now-familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you. Sure enough, when you glanced up, there he was.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away, his eyes locked on you with that lazy focus that made your heart stutter. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you like you were the only person in the room.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else. “Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few long strides until he was standing directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, I don’t know, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you with a faux-innocent smile.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right. People didn't just like you. They tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you. Not like that. Not in the way he was implying. You felt panic rising in your chest, like a wave that was too big to stop. You couldn’t stop it.

“You’re lying,” you said shakily, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching. No, this couldn’t be happening. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective. “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t actually mean any of what he said. He was probably just bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned. It was impossible to shake the nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you. That this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re just messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step back to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

Rafe stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You really think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity, that same focus, like you were the only person who mattered.

Your chest tightened, panic grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. People didn’t just… like you. They didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you. There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m some joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t been honest about anything. You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying? 

You moved your head again, harder this time. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "What doesn't make sense to you?" 

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you actually care. Like you see me. People don’t just do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to believe him. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, to always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern. "Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest. "It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head slowly. "That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to say something—anything—to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come. But Rafe didn’t give you the chance. 

"You think I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?" 

You wanted to pull away, to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I’m not bored. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this—this kind of sincerity. It felt too real. And part of you still wanted to push it away, to reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

For a long, breathless moment, the two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your mind was still processing everything, but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you feel—just for a second—like maybe you could trust this.

You shook your head, "I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, your voice uncertain. "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to figure out how to make you believe him. "I get that," he said quietly. "And I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this."

You wanted to believe him. More than anything, you wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, your throat tight. "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, he just nodded slowly.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

And with that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. He didn’t try to force anything, didn’t press for more. Instead, he just gave you a small, almost hopeful smile and turned, disappearing back into the crowd.

And as you stood there, your heart still pummeling into your ribs, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

[togament]

as much as i love cute festival fluff with togame (someone else pls send in an ask for it lmao), consider confessing to togame on valentines with homemade chocolate since he’s a big foodie & he, more than anyone, would appreciate the effort 🥰

i can see him maybe not clocking the intention right away either bc he didn’t have friends until shishitoren (+ find it hard to believe anyone would be interested in him like that) & the thought of choji of all ppl making him realize it’s romantic bc the chocolate reader gave him “wasn’t as nice looking as kame-chan’s :<” is soooo funny to me

GHHRHRJRH GNAWING ON YOUR ARM THIS IS ADORABLE!!!!! kinda teared up a bit ngl. imagining a soft blushy togame got me in my feels. i feel like (Also yes pls someone send in a cute festival date hc with togame/any of your faves!!!! I have things to say about our turtle guy in particular but we can do your other faves too. idk i'm in a yappy mood.

“you’re finally ready to confess to togame after mulling it over for months. you even made chocolates for him to (hopefully) immediately devour. things don’t go quite as planned though.”

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : none just fluff, gender neutral reader, reader’s jelly and an overthinker, togame’s in looooove, choji’s a little shit (affectionate)

full story under the cut! fully SFW.

standing at the gates of the ori, you bounce on your heels in sheer nervousness, eyes tirelessly darting around in search for togame with two chocolate boxes in one hand. one smaller one and one huge and beautifully decorated one. god your heart’s beating a mile a minute and your brain’s working overtime. what if he got into trouble? a possibility. what if someone’s confessing to him? of course someone would. he’s tall, handsome, kind, can cook—what’s not to love?

what if someone asked him out on a date? shit.

..what if HE asked someone out on a date? double shit.

oh god. oh no. your form visibly slumps at the thought, doubtlessly breaking your own heart again. but hey, on the bright side, you could eat your own chocolates, right? you made them extra delicious too, making them into flavors you know he’d like. you even snuck in some ramune flavored sweets for him.

…you know you’d hate eating chocolates for the rest of your life after this.

but then, the sun in the form of choji, shines through the dark clouds in your mind. your body visibly straightens back up when you hear his distinct laughter and endless yapping along with the soft crinkles of cellophane and boxes. listening even closer, you can hear togame speak and get promptly cut off by the smaller boy.

breathe. he’s here.

shit— what if those boxes you heard were all his and choji was just carrying them with him? what if he already gave someone a kiss today? what if he’d take your box of chocolates and hand it to his date instead?? what if—

“oh hey it’s bunny.”

you were just ready to walk away when you were stopped in your tracks by his deep voice calling out the nickname he so annoyingly picked for you. even when you’re looking away you could just hear him smiling. you turn, giving both boys a slight wave before you’re met with the absolute mountain of chocolates choji and him are carrying.

you’re not the only one who wanted to confess to him then.

“hey uh-mind adding these to your pile?” you say, failing to mask the sadness in your voice. you catch yourself though, immediately correcting yourself. “got these for you guys. no biggie, really.” you made the chocolates. granted the smaller box’s for choji and it’s way less decorated compared to togame’s. more ‘default’ chocolate box than ‘I have liked you for the longest time please accept my love’ chocolate box. you yap some more, digging your own grave, “these were on sale today so… thought you guys might want a snack.” you didn’t get them on sale. hell you made each and every single one by hand for the both of them to suit their tastes. god knows how much time you and him have spent talking about cooking and food.

but then choji gasps.

“hey! lying’s not nice!” choji chirps at you, dropping the boxes of chocolates on the ground unceremoniously. togame could only look on since his hands are already occupied with even more of choji’s valentines chocolates. the smaller boy looks at you suspiciously, albeit playfully. "you made these, didn't you?"

fuck. he noticed. you stare at choji like a deer in headlights now, too stunned to utter a single word.

he eyes the beautifully painted box in your hands and you pray for the ground to just eat you.

“iiiiis that one mine?” choji points at the larger box, eyes shining. togame looks on though, silent but his mind’s racing too. little did you know the chocolates they were carrying were all choji’s, given by his droves of admirers and friends alike. while togame didn’t mind not getting any chocolates this year and all those years before that, he finds himself hoping.

please don’t let that be choji’s.

“Wh-no! it’s-“ “-kame-chan’s? waaah his box is way larger and prettier than mine is!” he cuts you off, eyeing the boxes as you hold them in your hand. still, he takes his smaller box from you. “why’d you give kame-chan a bigger one? you like him or something?”

a pause.

“is that why you’re blushing?” he prods, wiggling a finger at you. "is that why you're blushing too, kame-chan?", he adds, wiggling two fingers at the both of you.

you could just explode at that moment.

“HUH?? What??? n-no! I mean YES-“ “oh so you do?” choji adds, cutting you off again. Taking togame’s larger box of chocolates from your hands, he shuffles through the chocolate boxes he dropped on the floor, handing the taller, now stunned boy his first legit box of valentines chocolates.

you three are blanketed in silence. with the exception of choji’s giggles.

"choji wait-" “welp, I’ll be in the ori!” he brightly exclaims, swiftly taking all of the chocolate boxes from togame’s arms and off the floor, leaving him with the single, most prettiest one in the bunch.

yours.

choji leaves you both with a playful wink and you both stand there, glancing at each other and fumbling awkwardly.

silently, he opens your chocolate box and is immediately greeted with a beautifully arranged selection of chocolates and sweets. his gaze flits from the box, to your reddened face and back again. you motion for him to eat. and he does.

he didn’t think it was possible to like you even more.

he pops one of the ramune shaped bites in his mouth and his eyes immediately widen in delight behind his amber sunglasses. pushing the glasses up his forehead to meet your eyes properly, you fail to tear away your eyes in time.

“sure you made these yerself, bunny? could've fooled me. these are restaurant quality. ” he says in between bites. his tone’s something he only uses around you and choji. vulnerable, safe, gently.

your heart’s beating way too fast for your own good.

“mhm. thought you might like that one because y’know… ramune and all.” you respond, “your favorite, right?”

with an acknowledging hum, he closes the box, twisting and admiring the beautifully decorated container, a forest green box speckled with gold and ornate lines. you really set the bar way up high for him. he smiles softly to himself and you swear you see his cheeks redden a tint.

“…can ya teach me to make them?” his voice grows softer, just enough for you to hear him. “how’s next weekend?” as soon as the words escape his lips, his heartbeat rises up to his throat. what if you didn't want to? he's never done this before, making the first move. he still can't fully grasp why you'd go so far as make something for him, someone who's only respected out of fear, someone who's wronged so many for just one cause. it haunts him sometimes. the Shishitoren could forgive him but he can't forgive himself. why would you?

you'll convince him soon enough. make him see what you see in him, what others see in him.

now's not that time though. your mind’s already in another dimension, thinking about him giving his date YOUR dessert with the recipe YOU made for him. letting out a soft disappointed sigh before opening your mouth, you respond, “maybe I could.“

“Maybe huh.” he echoes you, arching a brow at you with a small frown ghosting his lips.

“yeah, maybe. I could send the recipe over to you if you want. you could try making it with your date-“

“date? I want to make them for you next month, doofus. only you.” he retorts, wanting to get his point across. he realizes you're overthinking again. he's assuring you. meeting your eyes, he sees the shade of red on your cheeks darken. you look like a fish out of water, mouth agape and eyes wide. extending a hand towards you, he nudges your chin up with his knuckle. “y’know what that means right? I like you.”

a small gasp escapes your lips.

“you do..?” a pause. “why?”

he laughs, playfully pinching your cheek.

“I just do, cutie. always have. I take it you like me too?”

you nod. do it properly this time.

“yeah. I really do.”

he smiles, dimples deepening on his cheeks. he looks so relieved you like him back. you swear you feel like you’re on cloud nine — is this really happening?

“it’s a date then." he says as he reaches over to pat your head. "you better not flake on me, bun. Else I’d take that imaginary date of mine out instead.”

scoffing, you push his chest and he lets out a soft 'oof'.

“you wouldn't dare—“

“ARE YOU GUYS DATING YET??”

choji screams from the distance, the entire Shishitoren gang’s staring at you both from the ori, desperately waiting for the both of you to finish. they've been watching you both the entire time with bated breath. his friends are all cheering him on.

a pause.

togame reaches over to hold your hand, intertwining his long fingers through yours. hoots and hollers echo as he waves them off with a hand.

you could only smile up at him, squeezing his hand into yours.

he squeezes back.

a/n: hehehehe self doubt togame making me soft. MAKE HIM FEEL WORTHY GOD DAMN IT. DATE HIM AND DATE HIM HARD.

[txttletale]

i got an anon ask saying i should kms bc i "reblog from antiblack racist txttletale" and i deleted it bc like. hello. but i am kind of curious if u even know what the basis for that accusation is or if they're just completely talking out of their ass 😭😭😭

a long while ago (well over a year at this point) i said some dumb and racist shit about #sayhername and was very needlessly snippy and glib to ppl, esp. Black women, trying to talk to me about it in good faith. i since apologized and obviously realized why i was wrong after some people explained it to me but i'm sure there's people still mad about that somewhere (and to be clear i don't blame them--this is just a blogging website and i don't think anyoine needs to like, be aware of my Vast Oceanic Soul on it, god knows there are tons of people here who to me are just usernames i associate with some horrendous take from forever ago).

that said i think most people saying that nowadays are either saying it because of that ridiculous 100-blog long blocklist that went around of any communist who pointed out that usamericans benefitted from imperialism, or from a circle of terf blogs who got really mad at me (correctly) pointing out that 'kill your local rapist' is lynch mob rhetoric. or from when people were just saying that about any trans woman who pointed out that mr. trances and his friends love harassing trans women. so idk i doubt that anyone anonymosuly sending that accusation around unsourced is doing so in good faith lol

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

[simpingforthemm]

Hello angel face 🌷

I fell so head over heels in love with your writing ^-^

I was wondering if I could request a headcanon on dating Isaac from My life with the walter boys?

Sending you lots of love ♡

~ 🧸

dating isaac garcia headcanons

a/n: omg not you making me blush 🤭❤️ thank you so much ❤️❤️ and ofc! I really enjoyed writing this since Isaac is so asfjlskjk 😍 I hope you enjoy!

words: 1.4k

summary: what it would be like to date isaac garcia

• as we all know, Isaac is a total ladies man and he has girls all over town crushing on him

• but he's not searching for anything serious with any of them

• if he were to really get into a relationship, his girlfriend would have to stand out

• he wouldn't want to date someone who blindly falls for him without really knowing him

• he wants that slow-burn enemies to lovers typa shit 😌

• me personally I think Isaac would go for an outsider girl who's kinda mysterious

• also probably someone who has a good sense of style and an interest in fashion

• he wants a girl who doesn't just simply agree with everything he says or does, he wants her to call him out on his bullshit, scold him if he's being an asshole etc!

• bc even tho he loves all the attention he gets from girls and he loves when they swoon over him, that stuff can get boring real quick and he just wants someone to be real with him!

• when you first meet, you don't think much of Isaac

• you are of the opinion that he's arrogant af and extremely entitled

• he's the popular guy and you're just chilling with your small friend group, away from all the high school drama

• it's only when you're paired as lab partners in chemistry and have to sit next to each other that you're forced to talk more (forced proximity y'all 😌😌)

• you bicker for a few weeks, exchanging snarky comments

you: "you really have no idea what the periodic table is? fucking stupid ass himbo"

Isaac: "oh so you're saying I'm good looking? can't even insult me properly huh?"

you: "oh stfu"

• it's only until both of you burst out laughing at some stupid video the teacher showed you in class

• and both of you are looking at each other like ????

• "I didn't know you had a good sense of humor too?"

• then both of you find yourself more often than not laughing at the same things

• you start making jokes to each other in classes, still bickering with each other but the bickering turning more into play fighting??

• also now you don't despise having to work together as lab partners anymore

• sometimes you also purposely sit next to each other in different classes just because it's more fun together

• yet both of you would never admit that

• lots of people from school are surprised about your new acquaintance with Isaac bc what is this popular guy doing with this outsider girl?

• but Isaac doesn't care about what other people think bc you're actually really chill and fun to be around

• one day, Isaac decides he's sick of conversing with his admirers and finds that your bickering with him is far more interesting and also more intellectually stimulating (yes 😂) than just having a bunch of girls stare at him with heart eyes swooning over him and just nodding at everything he's saying

• so at lunch he goes over to your friend group's table (actually just you and your two friend's table 😌) and asks if he can sit with you

• your two friends are like : 🤨🤨🤨him?

• but you're like: nah nah guys he's cool

• so you guys are just chilling together for lunch and he realizes what he's been missing out on!!

• he actually gets along with you and your friends so well bc y'all are also fashion mfs like him and not football ppl like his other friends lmao (tho he mostly hangs out with his cousins)

• after lunch he asks you if you want to hang out after school sometime and chill just the two of you, which surprises you but ofc you say yes

• on your first hangout you go to get matcha 🍵 and talk about art (I could imagine that also being one of Isaac's interests) and fashion, also like your fav brands and stuff and how both of you want to model/design/study fashion etc. in your future

• you also deep talk about his dad a lil and how Isaac mostly grew up at the Walter's house bc his dad is in the army

• your hangouts get more frequent and soon you realize it's more than friendship for both of you and that you actually are like in love with each other

• both of you used to always chat during class and laugh together which you still do but now it's just with a little bit of tension and awkwardness bc you're now crushing on each other

"hahaha...yeah that was um... really funny😅haha"

• and somehow Isaac can't flirt with you like he does with other girls bc with the other girls it was never genuine, he didn't really care about them but with you it's like...

• he really likes you and he doesn't wanna f it up

• I think he would get a lil more touchy tho as he realizes he likes u

• for example: you're out at the cinema watching an indie movie together and he puts an arm around you

• you're like: you've never done that before 🤨🤨🤨

• but then you have to hide your blush bc omg!! 😳 he just put his arm around you

• I feel like Isaac is a scaredy cat so he tells you he loves you over text 😭

• he doesn't even tell you he likes you first, bro just goes all out with the L word

• you've just woken up, it's like 6am on a Sunday and you see a text from Isaac from like an hour ago 💀💀

• "I think I'm in love with you lmao"

• and you immediately call him bc wtf???

• you ask him: "is this one of your jokes?" bc ain't no way are you gonna confess too only to be told it's a prank

• "no, no... it's true"

• "and you decided to tell me this over text?? literally wtf Isaac"

• then you're silent for a while and just say "I can't believe I'm about to say this on the phone but...I feel the same"

• then you meet up that same day and the second you meet you're literally laughing saying: "literally wtf Isaac"

• "sorry I, uh.. didn't know how else to say it..", he says awkwardly, looking away bc he's blushingg

• "well, it's fine because.. I love you too"

• Isaac literally perks up even though you've already said you feel the same, it's different hearing you say it in front of him

• then you guys have your first kiss which is literally life changing for Isaac because so far he's only ever kissed girls like for fun and not because he's fallen for them

• so this is a very new experience for Isaac

• you show up as a couple at school the next day and walk the hallways holding hands 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

• everybody is confused and asks Isaac: "really? her?"

• he answers: "yeah, why? she's cool af?? and I'm literally in love with her??!!"

• so let's talk about your relationship

• you both match fits often and are basically the most stylish couple at school

• you also go thrifting together!

• you guys have a very strong emotional bond and talk about anything and everything literally

• you're his rock and his best friend, he tells you everything

• and by that I mean literally everything

• he also tells you about every prank he plans / has done and he also tells you about the putting bleach in Jackie's shampoo bottle prank

• which you immediately scold him for bc why is he putting that poor girl through this when she's literally still adjusting to the new life in the Walter's house after having to leave her home because her parents died?

• at school you go to Jackie to apologize for Isaac's behavior and offer to help with her hair, which she gladly accepts

• this leads to you and Jackie becoming best friends and to her joining your little friend group with your 2 friends

• (you guys are a better influence on her than Skylar and Grace)

• you also get invited to Walter family events, for example Will's wedding or Thanksgiving

• you can be a bit shy so you always cling to Isaac and Jackie whenever you're there

• But Katherine makes you warm up quickly with her good-hearted nature and you find yourself feeling comfortable in the Walter's home pretty soon

• you get along with Lee pretty well and you just fit in perfectly with the whole bunch

• your parents also love him bc he's literally your prince charming 💕

[bangtannism]

Damn anon you might wanna alarm jimin that jungkook will hit him or something cause he's not aware and hence always says jungkook would protect him.

https://x.com/aceggukmin/status/1817678237129977939?t=fLgmzMdtSXH_PNpv99G8JQ&s=19

https://x.com/odetonamu/status/1624431324986765312?t=Rcbdfwt5CBzdARrtr6Q4ug&s=19

https://x.com/lovemazejikook/status/1684814232108601344?t=6hY4PGBwiWizoTZ6M3_Gzg&s=19

In the last ss when jm said "I'm scared he might hit me" jungkook literally said "don't portray me like that jiminie hyung" ,"When did i do that? I would have just gotten hit(jokingly)" cause both of them knows it won't be jk hitting jm playfully but vise versa.

Do i need to remind the nyc boat scene where jm sat on top of jk saying "you gonna hit ME?" And starts imitating hitting jk like do ppl think jk is that easy to manhandle nd couldn't have stopped jm from sitting on top of him? Yet he let jm overpower him cause he doens't mind. In all these 5 episodes jm keeps throwing his legs all over jk when has jk ever minded it? In jeju on first night jm literally had his feets near jk's face mind if it was me you would have thrown away from my body cause no one putting their feets near my face yet jk doens't mind jm doing it. When they were brushing jm threw his legs again on jk's shoulder and instead of throwing them back jungkook literally held them in place with one hand and started brushing with another. I'm pretty sure if jk was throwing his legs over jm's shoulder nd was handling jm the way jm does to him y'all would have said jungkook doens't give fks about jm and is rough with him yet when jm does it it's fine.

Not even a single flinch on jm's body here.

https://x.com/aceggukmin/status/1817678237129977939?t=5f1dJ_0b-RB8yYLoa-iPwg&s=19

This is jm hitting jk playfully btw and jk just laughing it off

https://x.com/pjmvelvets/status/1367452232816336896?t=7GuT6xaEIpLvQbCUHdufKw&s=19

This is jm pushing his used tissue to jk's mouth cause jk was annoying him and hitting jk's chest btw

https://x.com/whalientake/status/1821695896972623976?t=N4RhfM-94Ls51WAh54SN6w&s=19

I'm not showing this to u to show jm in badlight I'm showing this to you that if these things were done by jk y'all would have said a lot more about him but y'all say nothing about jimin. They're friends and both do the same things to/with each other's so get the fk over treating one as vanilla and get over y'alls beauty and beast bs. They know how to handle each other. This is coming from jm biased btw.

(^ this was also not long after the connecticut trip where jk elbowed jm and may be what jm is referring to.)

thanks for the clips, anon! here's some for you. :) (and a post by storm, since i couldnt find a flat out clip of the badminton incident)

[meruz]

hi!! im sure ppl have asked this b4, but i scoured your asks tag for an hour or so looking to see if you answered anything abt it and couldnt find anything, so i was just wondering if youve made any posts on your process for making n selling merch b4? and how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff (hopefully that makes sense, im not sure,,,)

hi! got a bunch of asks abt merch stuff lately im gonna put it under a cut.

preface: i don't know if i'm the best person to ask about all this stuff because I'm doing merch on a strictly hobby basis LOL. I have a fulltime job which takes care of the bulk of my finances, I don't really make big quantities of anything and my main priority at cons is to just make enough money to see my friends in different cities at minimal expense. i pretty much always get a refund when i file my con taxes because my profit after all the deductions is like fucking..nothing.. lmao. So if you ultimately lose money following my advice don't blame me. OK NOW lets get into it

my process for making merch: when I have an event scheduled that I want to make merch for I start by brainstorming a bunch of stuff I wanna make. for mgscon this is what I wrote down in my sketchbook lol

i made a legend to denote which ones are actually just reprints. it gets easier to plan out merch when you already have merch. out of the new merch ideas here i actually only made like 4 of them. and out of the reprints i only reprinted like three. i also came up with like 4-5 other merch ideas after writing out this list that i actually did do. LMAOO UM. my point here is that nothing rly goes as planned.

when i get a merch idea i start with thumbnails what i want it to look like (sometimes this is based off merch ive seen before so its very realized and sometimes its really vague bc im kind of pulling it out of my ass)

then BEFORE i go into making the final art I research how I'm going to make the merch. whether its printing/constructing it myself or looking for a manufacturer. There's a lot of different places that you can get custom merch made, i used to go shopping around at local printing shops but nowadays it's really common to do it all online. For both these jet tags and the washi tape I did some of my own research into manufacturers and also asked friends for their contacts/referrals/recommendations etc. most manufacturers either have their specs/template publicly available or will give them to you when you ask. so once I've locked into a manu and gotten the specs I'll start designing the final art.

then it's sending it off and waiting! easier said than done.

i will say this process is a lot lengthier for some types of merch than others LOL. for prints... I've been doing prints for like a million years and I plan out almost none of it. I draw everything at print resolution so a week before I have a con scheduled I'll simply go through all the files I've accumulated since my last con, squeeze whatever drawings I want into standard print sizes lol (ie. 8.5x11, 11x17, 4x6 etc), and print them at a local shop. takes like a couple hours max.

how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff?

I mean. honestly I don't know. selling fanart is the kind of thing that IP holders kind of just let slide as long as they don't think they're losing a substantial amt of money on it. there ARE a couple franchises people avoid because they've been known to send IP lawyers after fanartists... disney is the big one and they're known for being pretty petty abt it... that's why you don't really see people selling fanart of the disney princesses at cons. ive heard pokemon will also crack down if your project seems to be making a lot of money lol, part of why i think a lot of pokemon fanzines operate on a charity basis. I do feel like the pokemon company has bigger fish to fry than someones artist alley table though so i wouldn't sweat it too much.

it's also generally considered impolite/bad taste to sell fanart of small franchises. webcomics and indie games especially if they only have like 1-2 devs who rely on the income that game makes.

I'm not a lawyer so you shouldn't consider this legal advice BUT I will say... I don't think you should let IP law stop you from selling fanart lol. especially if it's low quantities/not mass produced and you're not making crazy amts of money I think you kind of have a leg to stand on. Besides, most cases it seems like the worst you'll get is a cease and desist.

you Will notice that when people start turning their artist alley endeavors into a real business they'll generally ease up on selling fanart (the case most prominent in my mind is omocat lol). but i love fanart and thats why i will never make money and thats a promise [snake saluting gif]

SORRY IDK IF ANY OF THIS WAS HELPFUL. I've been doing merch and cons for a long time (10+ years lmao, you can find record of this on this very blog) and i think im kind of old fashioned about it. i recognize the artist alley/merch scene is a lot more demanding now than it used to be but start small at local low-risk events, online sales etc and work your way up and remember to have fun and itll be ok i believe this wholeheartedly.

its literally just layers of acrylic like any other dinky charm. I'm sure pretty much any manu that does acrylic charms could do it but this specific charm/template i did order through a group order server. they're pretty well known! heres a link to their twitter

@wheatormeat sorry for taking a full month to answer this... anyways. This is tricky because I've actually been changing up my sticker manu everytime LOL IDK if I've found one I actually love.

these ones i ordered thru an alibaba manu because I was jumping on a friend's group order to save on shipping. it was ok. they arrived a liiiitle late and printed a lil dark but i think thats kind of my fault LOL I use dark colors i always need to lighten things before i get them printed and i think i just didnt lighten these enough. otherwise i rly love the quality!

i realized i never posted these online and also this is not a good picture (the lighting in my living room sucks rn) but i printed these tmnt stickers thru stickerninja they feel really solid but they needed kind of a lot of space for the cutline. but their customer service was very nice and helpful!

these ones i got printed at washimill and i was so impressed with how fine their cutline is... pricing and quality of the sticker itself is alright they feel a lil flimsy? idk. but i do like the printing. i kind of elected to go with them solely because i was already ordering washi tape. A LOT of my manufacturing decisions are made based on how much money i can save on shipping tbh.

and thats my sticker manu reviews dont forget to like comment subscribe idk if i have one im gonna stick with forever or anything im rly indecisive. ideally id like a manu based in the u.s...? because im based in the u.s. and international shipping is pricey. but idk if i keep ordering washi tape maybe ill keep using washimill. who knows...

[pathetickuroo]

nekoma hcs i've been dreaming up since before the movie came out

- shibayama keeps a quote book

- there are some absolutely foul, heinous statements in there.

- he ends up passing it down to a first year before he graduates and has to explain uhh. quite a lot!

- "um. why does yaku call kai babygirl" "how about we stop talking for a while!"

- "'it tastes so good i would stick—' shibayama-san what IS this" "I'M JUST THE MESSENGER IT'S NOT MY FAULT"

- kuroo made a sliding scale diagram of every nekoma member from most to least catlike and refuses to accept any criticism

- in order (as far as more relevant characters go) it went kenma, fukunaga, kuroo himself, tora, yaku, kai, shibayama, lev, inuoka

- yaku in particular was deeply offended about his placement

- "you're like if a dog could be a cat" "FUCK you how is tora higher than me" "well that's because he's like if a cat could be a dog."

- inuoka has a special handshake with everyone

- the one with tora is the longest because they keep thinking of stuff to add and its really cool and not a distraction at all kuroo they promise

- it's 40+ steps at this point

- they keep having to restart because one of them forgets something

- kuroo just wants to do serving drills and he's getting tired of asking nicely

- fukunaga can will and does fall asleep anywhere

- like. anywhere. in a plane on a train on his desk at school on the floor in the library you name a location and i'd bet good money he's snoozed there. he fell asleep on the bench during a timeout once in the middle of a practice match. yaku found him in a cabinet one time

- some under the counter door closed curled up shit. made it look like sleeping on a cloud too i'm sure

- speaking of fukunaga. he carries around one of those little party noisemaker things around with him so he can use it when something makes him happy

- like those ones where you blow in them and the paper unrolls and it honks or whatever. you know the sound idk how to describe it

- he's exploring creative methods of communication so he doesn't have to force himself to talk all the time :)

- every time kuroo sees a cat he HAS to meow at it, it isn't a question of if he will or not, he Has To. it's like a compulsion

- it's the alternative to baby-talking them (which he also does sometimes)

- when ppl send cat pics in the gc he types meow and hits send

- he wants to be POLITE and say HELLO and since cats can't speak japanese, kuroo will speak cat

- he gets down to their eye level too or at LEAST crouches. he doesn't wanna frighten them

- lev tried to keep the blood speech alive after the third years graduated

- "ok we're blood--" "you're doing it WRONG" "WHATT WHATTTTT"

- he tries to come up with something new but gives up bc he can't stop thinking of vital organs

- "ok ok kenma i got it this time. so we're like the liver--" "tora i'm gonna kill this guy"

- touchiest volleyball team known to man

- hugs, heads on shoulders or in laps, holding hands, shoulder touches, patting each other on the back or the head, arms around shoulders, cuddling at sleepovers they're doing it ALL

- totally indiscriminate too. if you attend nekoma high school and join the boys' volleyball club you will not be touch starved i can tell you that

- you know how when you have a litter of kittens they all kind of sleep in a pile

- this is a maneuver nekoma hits often, i think

- it turns into a catch-all solution for like. anything

- didn't get enough sleep? cat pile. finals are coming up? cat pile. forgot your phone at home? cat pile. it rained during the school day and you got the bottom hem of your pants wet on the way to afternoon practice? cat pile. bored as hell? guess what! cat pile

- it sort of happens in the gym before/after practice just because it's the most convenient option, but it definitely happened in the bleachers after the dumpster battle too

[sunlightandsuffering]

I'm not sure if this is long enough for me to bother posting it as a chapter, BUT MORE SACRILEGE FOR THE PPL AND BC THEY'RE SO CUTE AND UNHINGED !!

Does Eren feel great about corrupting the local church’s youth group leader and shining example of chastity? No, not really, in fact, his mother would probably murder him for it if she ever found out. 

But in the meantime, he’s sure stories of his ‘new girlfriend’ and possible marriage prospect will mollify her.

Or at least he hopes so, but regardless, that is the least of Eren’s problems. His biggest problem is the pain in the ass cadet he’s been assigned as a partner for the last week and a half of Armin’s paternity leave and said local churchgoing sweetheart’s ex-boyfriend. All in all, Eren has embroiled himself in a plot quite fitting for the church. He can see the headline now, ‘Local Cop Seduces Innocent Church Girl, Leaves Hopeful Cadet Destitute’.

“I hate him,” Jean is muttering darkly from Armin’s desk across from him, fidgeting with his pen in agitation. If only Jean knew that Eren is the ‘him’ he’s referring to. Instead, he’s simply been subjected to a singular break up text, and several quotes about the bible and forgiveness splashed across Mikasa’s instagram story. 

If Eren weren’t in the middle of it he’d find the entire plot amusing, but he doesn’t want Jean to become more irritating than he already is. 

The rhythmic click, click, click of Jean’s pen clicking is what finally sets Eren over the edge. “Leave your personal shit at home, Kirstchein, we have a job to do and that paperwork isn’t going to complete itself.” Jean looks like a kicked puppy as he turns back towards his paperwork, appropriately chastised by his superior, and for a split second Eren almost feels bad for the man. 

But then Mikasa sends him a nude, and he doesn’t feel so bad for the asshole anymore. 

Shoving his phone into one of the many deep pockets of his standard-issue cargo pants Eren stands up, imposing compared the heartbroken cadet in front of him.

“We have shit to do Kirschtein, we’ve got a drug bust in an hour and you’re fucking moping. Get it together.” 

Jean glowers for a moment before booting up his now sleeping computer again and Eren sighs, heading towards the break room to grab a snack, he truly does not get paid enough for this shit. 

How old is he? Seventeen? Because that’s the kind of teenaged nonsense he’s dealing with from his cadet, it’s ridiculous. He grumbles mostly to himself as he snatches a pre-packaged rice krispy treat from the communal bowl on the counter, this is how bad it is, he’s actually fucking eating carbs and sugary ones at that. Whereas Eren is typically infamous for following his regimented diet, continually topping the leaderboards at every physical training camp, Jean’s drama has stressed him out so much that he’s actually fucking eating sugar. 

Eren tears the blue wrapper apart with his teeth before ripping into the sweet treat with dark intent, stupid fucking cadets and overdramatic church girls. Stocking back into the main office space Eren promises himself no more bullshit, from here one it’s police work only. He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit on the job. He’s about to give Jean another lecture, hoping this time it’ll stick, but as he approaches their desk clump he finds Jean on his phone, a looking of absolute betrayal on his face. “Jean what the fuck are you looking at I thought I said–” Eren snatches the phone from his hands only to find Mikasa’s god-damned Instagram story. The cute little icon of her face lighting up the corner of the screen along with a large pink background and some sort of cursive looking font splashed across the screen. “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”

James 1:5

Fuck. The pink image switches as the story runs out, and suddenly the screen is black, lit up with pink writing as another bible verse is proudly proclaimed across her story. 

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Psalms 37:4

The screen changes again and Eren groans, handing the phone back to Jean who can only be describes as looking utterly betrayed. His pain in the ass little churchgoer has been posting passive-aggressive bible verses on her story all morning from the looks of it, splashes across her social media in varying shades of pink. 

Eren checks his own phone curiously, only to find there’s another notification from said little churchgoer, and from the looks of it, it’s probably another nude. 

God what the fuck has he gotten himself into. “I’m sorry Eren, I just - I can’t, we were together for four years! She was going to give me her virginity, we were going to be each other’s firsts.” Eren winces at that particular comment, because he’d taken Mikasa’s virginity rather spiritedly on the altar of their church, had actually fucked the lord right out of her he’d like to think. Although, judging by the mess of bible verses painted across her social media, there’s at least a little bit of religious insanity left in her. “I have to make a call,” Eren tells Jean abruptly, leaving the cadet to wallow, “Get your shit together by the time I come back.” 

Eren barely makes it outside the precinct before he’s holding the phone to his ear, Mikasa’s number dialed already and ringing insistently. 

She answers on the third ring, sounding breathless, “Eren–” “The bible verses Mikasa? Really?” He’s utterly exasperated and he’s sure she can tell by the way she sighs on the other end of the line, “I just think it’s important that the rest of my community knows that breaking up with Jean was God’s will Eren.” “Mikasa I fucked you on the altar okay, that wasn’t God’s will, I was horny and that was good fucking weed.” He can practically feel her scowl on the other end of the line, “God never gives us more than we can handle Eren, and now I have my ring, it was all his will. The congregation just needs to understand that, and so does my youth group.”

“You couldn’t just tell them you found someone else?” 

Mikasa gasps in affront over the line, “He gave me a promise ring Eren, it’s highly frowned upon within the community to rescind commitment so easily.” 

“You rescinded it pretty easily for me.”

“Because I knew God sent you to me, to put me on the right path.” “You’re absolutely unhinged, you know that, right?” There's silence for a moment, and then there's a breathier quality to her voice as she taunts him,“I’m also not wearing panties.”

“Did God tell you not to?” Eren quips right back, and Mikasa chuckles throatily on the other end of the line, “Can you come home on your lunch break?” 

Eren glances at the clock, cursing at the time, he’s spent far too long talking to his pain in the ass girlfriend. “No, I have to get back now, stop posting bible verses on your story and keep looking at your other university options Mika, I want you to get in on time.” At this, he can feel her wilt through the phone, she’s been stressed as hell since her falling out with her parents and subsequent break up with Jean. As a consequence she no longer has a full ride scholarship to Shiganshina bible college and she’s been stressed about schooling ever since.  Not that Eren had any desire to encourage that particular path of schooling, but he doesn’t want to derail her entire life, doesn’t want to be the mistake she looks back on as the reason she doesn’t have a career or didn’t go to college. 

Since accidentally stealing Jean’s girlfriend Eren has found he more than cares about the religious spitfire, might even love her, just a little. She may be unhinged as all hell, and devout to the point of delusion, but at heart, she’s a good person, if not a brat. His girlfriend had just been a little… misguided. 

She’d worked hard to get into nursing school, and Eren will be damned if he’s the reason she doesn’t get into another one. “Baby,” He intones and Mikasa sighs loudly, “Fine, I’ll work on my cover letter again.” He catches himself as a smile quirks at his lips, “Stop sending me nudes and send me the rough draft, I’ll look at it after my drug bust.” “Oh my God, you’re so boring.” “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain Mikasa,” He sing songs, and she growls on the other end of the line before hanging up. Maybe God really doesn’t give people more than they can handle, who is to say? Whatever, Eren doesn’t believe in any of that bullshit anyway. He turns back towards the precinct, phone tucked into his pants, “Kirschtein you’d better not still be mooning over that crazy religious nut you call an ex-girlfriend.” 

He is so totally going to hell. 

She shows up at around dinner time, eight hours into his twelve-hour shift, and firmly destroying any hopes of having a peaceful Wednesday night catching up on paperwork. 

She’s balanced delicately on the edge of his desk, glowering at Jean like he’s the one who’s wronged her. 

And even at eleven on a Wednesday night, she’s scantily clad, dressed in ripped jeans and a low cut scoop-neck sweater that catches Eren’s attention immediately. Because just like the first time he met her, her cleavage is eye-catching, his girlfriend’s tits are the stuff of wet dreams, the kind of breasts you show to plastic surgeons as inspo pics. 

And Jean is fucking staring at them. 

Was Mikasa Jean’s girlfriend first? Yes, yes she definitely was, and he has no doubt that despite her previous virginal status that Jean has ample experience with her rack. Doesn’t stop Eren from being pissed off that his douche canoe cadet is staring at his girlfriend’s rack. 

Jean is looking at her with simply too much interest, lust shining in his eyes as he looks her up and down, unable to look away from the plump milky tops of her breasts. 

Eren won’t have it. 

They’re arguing as he approaches them, half-assed insults on Jean’s part and scathing words from Mikasa that have Eren biting back a grin. 

“You’re a boy Jean, I needed a man, and God finally sent him to me.” This is Eren’s cue to make an entrance, and he sure does, barely sparing Jean a glance, instead wrapping a hand around Mikasa’s waist, blocking Jean’s view of her lithe little body. Without an ounce of hesitation, Eren dips his head into a low bow, worshipful as he places a kiss on each breast, wet, sloppy and leaving a sheen of saliva in his wake. Mikasa squeaks at the contact, not expecting the touch, and at her sweet little noise he can’t help but press one more loving kiss to the creamy flesh, his hands skating up over her waist to give her beautiful tits a squeeze. It’s quick, fleeting, just enough to make her smile turn dopey, eyes fogging over with desire, and he’s sure her sweet nipples are hard already, wants nothing more than to kiss her tits all day, but alas he has things to do. He completes his greeting with a kiss to her lips, long and slow with plenty of tongue, a hello that has Mikasa sighing into his mouth, melting in his arms. When he finally pulls back she is utterly dazed, his sweet little church girl the picture of debauchery, lips swollen with his kisses, and her sweater now slightly askew. Eren doesn’t acknowledge Jean at all as he greets her, one last squeeze to her hip as he gets her settled against his desk, “Hi baby.” This is what finally causes Jean to explode. 

“Baby? Mikasa this is the man you’re dating?” Eren glances back at him curiously, lying through his teeth as he asks, “Problem Kirschtein?” As if he didn’t steal the little spitfire right out from under his useless cadet.

Mikasa continues to say nothing, looking up at Eren adoringly and finally Jean snaps, gesturing towards the little pixie in his arms, “Eren, this is my ex-girlfriend.” “The one who dumped you for a better guy?” Jean growls in irritation, “That’s the one.” 

Eren shrugs, pressing his cheek against the soft strands of her hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent, “Oops.” Jean looks like he’s about to commit murder in the middle of the precinct but Eren is unconcerned, only tugs Mikasa a little bit closer, “Sorry cadet, it just kind of happened.” 

“How?” Jean grits out and Mikasa answers for him this time, snapping out of her kiss-induced daze, “Jean I told you I wasn’t feeling fulfilled in our relationship, it wasn’t what the lord wanted for me. But Eren–” She turns to look up at him lovingly, “He’s what I need, I just know it.” 

“What exactly is it that you need that I can’t provide, Mikasa?” A firm fucking hand that’s what but Eren refrains from that particular comment, knowing it will start world war three when he would much rather leave in a few hours. 

Mikasa reaches out at that, taking Jean’s hand, looking up at him so seriously, Eren would almost think that God was speaking through her, if he believed in God that is. “Guidance,” She tells Jean firmly, and Eren has to hold back a laugh because yeah, sexual guidance maybe, how the fuck did he end up in bed with this crazy little lunatic?

“What about our pastor, what about our parents–” “Shh,” Mikasa quiets Jean, “My decision has been made, and I made it in the eyes of the lord,” she spares a glance back at Eren that secretive little smile on her face, and he almost groans, because they sure did fucking make that decision in the eyes of the lord, right in front of his fucking salad actually, front and centre, no escape. 

Jean is looking at them both in complete and utter affront, a vein standing out prominently on his forehead, “Adultery is a sin you know.” Mikasa scoffs, “So is pride Jean, now if you would be so kind as to swallow yours I would like to spend the last ten minutes of my fiancée’s break with him.” This proves to be the wrong thing to say because Jean gasps, “There’s no way he’s going to marry you Mikasa, Officer Yeager doesn’t seem like the committed type.” 

Mikasa levels a murderous glare at his cadet and Eren continues to enjoy the show, smoothing a hand over her hip to keep the little heathen from leaping over their desks to claw his eyes out. “We’ve already set a date,” Mikasa tells him primly, before turning her back to his cadet dismissively. She’s pouting now as she looks up at him, her hand clutched in the folds of his uniform just a little too tightly for her to be totally okay. 

Eren presses a light kiss to her forehead before leaning down to her ear, a playful nip to the lobe before he suggests they take a breather, “You wanna hang out in my patrol car for the rest of my break.” She nods, leaning into him a little more, pressing the full weight of her delicate little body against him, “Yeah, I’d like that.” Eren leads her out by the elbow, Jean still fuming behind them, and fuck he knows exactly what he’s going to have to deal with later and it’s not good.

But something occurs to him as they edge out the doors of the precinct, keys jingling in his hand, “Mikasa, baby?” “Yeah?” She turns back, the picture-perfect scene of beauty, her hair falling in silky waves down her back, stunning as ever with that pretty face, and her tits trying to steal all his attention. “Did the Lord tell you to wear panties with that little outfit?” A mischievous smile blooms on her face before she’s sprinting towards his car, her reply caught in the wind of the night, “No!” 

Fucking bratty church girls, now he has to fuck her in his patrol car, it’s just good sense.