#but i think i'm only just beginning to process and be able to put into words just how grateful i am

[slayfics]

Katsuki gets caught being sweet to you.

You started to finally catch your breath being at the top of the hiking trail Katsuki had dragged you out too.

"Alright there, it's just us up here so tell me already. What the hell has been going on?"

"That's why you brought me out here?" You asked.

"Just tell me already, stop being so damn stubborn." He pried you impatiently.

"I told you I'm fine Bakugo, just busy like everyone else." You replied.

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think I'm stupid? The other extras are too dense to notice but I can see how exhausted you've been this whole week. So just tell me- what's going on," He said.

"You didn't need to drag me out here on a hike in freezing weather to do this, you know," You said, slightly irritated at Katsuki continuing to push you.

"Ugh- will you stop stalling and talk already," He yelled, causing you to let out an annoyed sigh. Katsuki put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view, his demeanor softening slightly. "You can talk to me, you know," he added, his voice lower and kinder than before.

You stayed looking at the view for a few more moments trying to figure out how to unpack everything that had been stressing you out. It wasn't like some big thing, but a summation of a bunch of little things that were beginning to become too challenging to manage.

A cold breeze blew by causing you to shiver. You wondered why Katsuki had insisted on bringing you up this mountain to talk to you. He could have pestered you in your dorm where it was warm.

Katsuki stole glances at you occasionally then focused back on the view not wanting to intimidate you too much from his glare. Hiking always helped him to clear his mind and gather his thoughts when they seemed too loud. He thought maybe it would help you too, and being away from all your classmates might make it easier for you to talk to him. At the very least it made it easier for Katsuki to be more vulnerable with you. He found it too daunting to express himself fully with all the attention of his classmates around. It was much easier being only in your company.

You took a deep breath, "I guess- it's just been hard to balance everything recently," You finally spoke, breaking the silence. Katsuki made it easy to open up to, as he had no problem sitting in silence for long extended periods. Others in your life felt the need to fill that silence with useless chatter which always prevented you from sitting in your emotions and being able to formulate them into words.

You took in another breath feeling a lump in your throat form. You hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what was going on for fear of opening up the flood of emotions and not being able to stop. Now here it was. You didn't want to cry on this fucking hill.

Katsuki patiently waited while you gathered your thoughts.

"It's just been so much and I've been barely keeping up. It's- been getting to me recently. I've been forgetting things I shouldn't. Being unusually upset at things that aren't that big of a deal- and I just- it's dumb." You cut yourself off afraid to say anymore.

"It's not dumb. Don't hold that shit in, it's not healthy," He said encouraging you to keep talking.

You sighed, "I just... know that it could be way worse, and I've been through way worse so- I feel so irritated at myself. What I'm going through now isn't something I can't handle. I know that. So why do I feel so fucking exhausted with everything," You replied wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"Hmm," Katsuki grunted, processing what you said. "You know, it's ok to be tired, and- to not be perfect. You can't just deny yourself from feeling overwhelmed because it could be worse. If you're exhausted now then those feelings are real- and it's ok to have them," He spoke.

You looked down at the view watching the distant cars pass, "Thanks," You managed to say taking another deep breath.

"You shouldn't wait to handle them until they explode either. Trust me, I know what that's like," He said, causing you to let out a small giggle. "You're too damn hard on yourself you know that?"

You let out a full laugh, "Oh that's pretty good coming from you. You're the pro at having too high expectations for yourself," you laughed.

You and Katsuki were wrapped up in your conversation causing you not to notice approaching classmates in the distance. Mina and Eijiro had also decided to come up the hill after class and spotted both of you in the distance.

"That looks like we shouldn't interrupt," Eijiro said.

"Yeah," Mina agreed. "But maybe... we could get a little closer to make sure everything is ok?" She said, pulling Eijiro into the bushes to spy on you and Katsuki. Eijiro was highly against the plan but was unable to protest for fear of you two hearing.

"Yeah I know I have high expectations for myself... that's why I know what it fucking looks like when you're being too hard on yourself. So- tonight I'm coming to your dorm and, I'm making sure you get to bed at a reasonable fucking time."

Mina's eyes widened as she looked at Eijiro, "Coming to their dorm?!" She whispered, and Eijrio covered her mouth, silencing her.

"You mean Grandpa time at 9 p.m.?"

"Shut up! 9 p.m. is late as hell! You damn idiots just don't know how to have a good sleep schedule! Look I'm making sure you get some sleep and tomorrow I'm taking you out. So- figure out where you want to eat, I don't care where. And I'm not letting you say no you need a break," Katsuki replied.

"You don't have to do that Bakugo."

"Of course, I don't have to but, I want to. So just shut up and let me take care of you ok. You better not be afraid to order enough food this time either! I'm buying so- just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Ok ok," You laughed, feeling your mood brighten.

"Next time, just tell me when you're having a bad day or something. Stop making me drag it out of you. I- worry about you, you know? Now let's go back to the dorms. I see you shivering," He said, beginning to walk back down the hill.

Mina squirmed again under Eijiro's hand, keeping her silent. Her eyes said it all. She was in disbelief at Katsuki's words.

"Here," Katsuki said, holding his hand out and offering it to you. "I'll warm your hand with my quirk," he said.

You grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

"Don't dare say anything about how sweaty my hands are!" He barked.

You giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't care Bakugo. It's part of your quirk, and your quirk is amazing you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. Besides, I'm always happy to hold your hand," You said as you two walked down the mountain.

"Tch whatever," Katsuki grumbled looking away from you as a small tint grew on his cheeks.

Finally, when you and Katsuki were far enough down the hill, Eijiro released Mina.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" Mina exclaimed.

"Shh shhh," Eijiro pleaded.

"WHAT- He wants to take care of them?!? OH MY GOD! They are totally dating right?! That's what he said he's taking them out to eat! And he's sneaking into their dorm! Wait wait- when they held hands it sounded like that had before! AND AND BAKUGO WAS TOTALLY BLUSHING! NO WAY!" Mina said looking like she might pass out from all this information.

"Ashido relax, we shouldn't have heard any of that!" Eijiro replied.

"Yeah but but-" Mina exclaimed, her head spinning. "Who knew Baklugo could actually be so sweet! I can't wait to tell Jiro-" She said, pulling out her phone.

"NO!" Eijiro said, grabbing her phone from her. "Uh- sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but- you can't tell anyone what we heard ok?" Eijiro said.

"WHAT?! I just heard Bakugo being the sweetest boyfriend ever and you expect me not to say anything about that?!"

"YES!" Eijiro yelled. "Look they both like their privacy and there is a reason they were all the way up here talking, Ashido. I think we should keep this a secret and let them do things at their own pace ok?" He said, handing Mina back her phone.

"UGH-" She exclaimed letting out a big sigh. "I guess you're right... but wow who would have thought Bakugo could be a decent person much less a good boyfriend." She said.

Eijiro just shrugged at her words, "I don't know he's not a bad guy like you all make him out to be you know."

"Wait! You totally already knew didn't you!" Mina said, slapping Eijiro's shoulder.

"Hey! I mean- Bakugo is my best friend you know, so yeah I did..." He answered truthfully.

"You suck! Keeping secrets like that from me!" Mina said playfully, waving a finger at him.

"I'm sorry, but it's their business you know?" He said.

"Yeah I understand, guess we should go back to the dorms too now," Mina suggested.

"Yeah it is pretty cold up here, let's go." He agreed as they both started to walk down the hill. "I don't have Bakugo's quirk or anything but- if you're cold you can hold my hand too if you want," Eijiro suggested.

Mina's face tinted a darker pink as she reached out and grabbed Eijiro's hand.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

Picture taken from @everypanelofkatsuki, thank you for all your hard work! Go check them out if you haven’t!

[pressureplus]

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

[coucouatoi]

don't want to be alone | h.s.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Divorcing the biggest superstar on the planet is the hardest thing you've ever done. Almost as hard as marrying him was.

Warnings: Angst, couples therapy, a little bit of fluff, hopeful ending

A/N: I don't know why I'm feeling so full of angst... but, please enjoy!

Flashback are in italic and present day is normal text

Boxes are littered around the house. Some full and taped shut others still being stuffed with your items. It's a slow and torturous process, having to choose what to take, what to throw out and what things are a conversation waiting to happen "That's a wedding gift from my aunt" or "When have you ever used that?" or even better "I know it was a gift, but I paid for it so i'll keep it". It's like he knows exactly which buttons to press to get the fights started. Granted you might be doing the same thing... But it doesn't make him entitled to all the belongings you've ever shared.

You've managed to find all the picture albums, the ones you decided to make for sentimental value. The ones you gifted him in tender moments. The ones filled with so much love, so much hope and promises for a future together. The ones you're now highly considering throwing into a paper shredder and tossing into the nearest incinerator. The ones you won't be able to get rid of. The anniversary album you gave him on your one year, the wedding album, the honeymoon album, the many travel albums and, of course, your daughter's first album.

Little Anya, barely 9 months old just starting to babble her first words. Chubby legs working so hard to keep her standing and exploring. She can barely take 3 steps one after the other but she's a fighter. Your little girl that is now a cause for argument, no, fights. Custody battles. The true war between yourself and your husband, Harry Styles. Neither of you want to lose or call for a tie, it's not how either of you operate in conflict. That, most likely, is the reason for the downfall of your relationship.

Frustrated you put the albums back where you found them and you head to the kitchen.

Most kitchen items have been packed up, Harry had never really invested in worthwhile cutlery or electronics of any sort. You take some orange juice from the fridge and pour a glass for yourself. The fridge itself is barren, with only the essentials left... neither of you has gone to the groceries in weeks. Today is not going to be a good day.

From the rediscovery of your love-filled albums to the boxes you've spent most of the day doing, you still have one horrible thing to do.

Couples therapy, your first-ever session. You thought, well still think, that this is too far gone to save in therapy. There won't be anything new shared that you haven't already screamed in each other's faces and self-help talks aren't exactly going to do the trick. Anne, Harry's mother, insisted that your marriage doesn't only include two people anymore. Anya makes it worth trying, she is worthy of a stable home as she grows up. No matter how unstable having a superstar parent may be, divorced parents might just add to that an unruly amount. So, you've both agreed to try. Try your very best to reassemble your love no matter how shattered it has become. Love. Love hasn't manifested itself once since about your seventh month of pregnancy. Love has vanished from your husband's once warm and inviting eyes, it no longer lingers on his fingertips and doesn't even creep into the more tender moments you must share with your baby. Love feels like a complete joke to you now.

-

The waiting room is empty of other clients which is a blessing in disguise. This is the absolute last place you'd want to run into Harries. Even if the media has already been dragging you in the mud for "breaking their dear superstar's heart" and has been making all sorts of claims about you and your marriage. In the very beginning, Harry had spoken up about these articles and had gotten his team to shut some people up but he's been losing care for... well, you.

"Harry and Y/N?" you look up meeting the eyes of who you can only assume is your therapist. Without sparring your husband a glance you get up and follow her into her office. It's cosy and smells like vanilla. There's a yellow glow to the room, it bounces off her multiple frames and decorations. Very nonthreatening, immediately putting you a little more at ease. She gestures for you to take a seat on her velvet green couch and you sit down squeezing yourself onto the left armrest. Harry does the same to the right.

"Good afternoon to you both, I am Trinity Finch. Can I get either of you something to drink before I sit down?" She smiles politely as her eyes shift between both of you. You only shake your head as an answer not trusting your stomach at the moment.

"Water if it's not too much trouble, please" Harry's voice is strained, he had been at the studio all morning probably preparing a new album you aren't aware of.

Trinity nods and quickly grabs a water bottle from a small fridge she's got right behind her desk. Harry mumbles a thank you as she hands it to him. You don't realise that his hands are shaking as you're back to looking around the room. He takes a few big gulps before your therapist gets to sit in her chair.

"Today I would just like to start with a history lesson on your relationship. How it started, all important moments, how parenthood has changed your shared life and just how you two are as a couple" She starts getting things ready around her, notebook, pens, highlighters, some sticky notes and you swear that you spotted some bright childish stickers. Her long manicured nails tap against the glass of her desk a few times as the silence stretches. Neither of you taking the first step in this session. When she looks up again she doesn't look annoyed or surprised by the lack of an answer.

"Harry, how did you meet your wife?" Trinity asks him gently.

Harry seems caught by surprise to have been asked a question directly. He looks at you briefly before turning his eyes back to her.

"Um, we meet on the plane. For some reason, my private plane for that day was not available and they booked me on a regular flight. Premium ended up being full and I got an economy seat. I had the aisle and she had the middle we ended up bonding over our shared movie choice. Then I asked her out and um here we are?" He ends with a question. As if unsure if "here" is a good thing, it's definitely not but meeting has, unfortunately, brought you both here.

"And when was this?" she asks.

"April 2018" he answers quickly. She nods presumably writing it down.

"How was your relationship before marriage Y/N?" she looks at you now with kind eyes. They are big and dark. Staring right into your soul. It makes you slightly uncomfortable but at the same time you don't want her to look away she's your lifeline right now.

"It was very easy. I work remotely as a translator and an editor, so I've always been able to tag along on his travels and tours. He, um, he always insisted that he rather have me with him even if we couldn't see each other every single day. Just knowing I was near helped him..." you sigh. You don't want to shed tears this early into your session. You don't want Harry to see you cry any more than he already has over your lost relationship.

"I really loved following him around the globe" you add, looking down at your lap willing your wet eyes to dry.

"Any fighting? How did you deal with that?" Trinity is still talking to you maybe even sensing that you're about to cry. Is that what she wants from this?

"Well, yeah. I mean all couples fight, right? We fought over the same things all the time really. I wanted more affection I guess pressuring him to take some time away from the spotlight or he wanted me all to himself whenever it worked with him without thinking of my work. Our jobs were the main reason for fighting between us" Besides you, Harry scoffs before taking another sip of water. Your head turns to him

so quickly that a sharp pain forms in the back of your neck. Your posture immediately tightens, muscles locking and your breath gets heavier.

"What? You don't agree?" you question him in a much harsher tone than you were previously using. He meets your gaze and shrugs.

"I do but that's not all we fought over" he shrugs again not looking away. Is he trying to pick a fight right now? Here of all places?

"Then what? What am I missing?" you prepare yourself for the worst. Ready to feel like absolute shit at anything he might say.

"Your constant jealousy was a contender for the most appearances in our fights" his entire expression is accusatory but he does this thing with his posture. Gets all soft and somewhat blazé making you feel inferior and so incredibly small.

You want to storm out. Call Anne to apologise that it couldn't work out and immediately sign the divorce papers that are permanently placed right on your dining table.

Not wanting to fuel this energy taking over him right now you shrug as well before facing Trinity again. She's watching both of you like a hawk, processing the way you react to conflict with each other. Making mental notes as well as some physical ones all while hostility happens between her clients.

"We'll move on from this for now. Harry, how was the wedding? How did married life change your bond?" this seemingly calms his overgrown ego. His face is neutral again but there's a softness to it now, recalling the happy days.

"We had an Italy wedding. We, I love Italy. I flew everyone out, our families and friends, and then we stayed there for a month more for our honeymoon. The wedding itself was... amazing. We kept it small. Intimate. With my life it's always been hard to have that so, it was important to us" he sounds blissful towards the last part. Probably back there now in his mind. Ah, the good old days as they say.

"I don't think married life changed us much. We were living together before that and we'd been planning it since we got together practically" he stops talking again to take another sip of water. You look at the lady in front of you again and as she begins to open her mouth to probably question him more Harry starts talking again.

"I guess tension started about a year in. The media wasn't kind to her. They made up cheating rumours on both sides and manipulated things to make them seem like something else. Someone even showed up at our old house while I was out" he took a deep breath, cracking some of his knuckles at the same time, "We were always on edge around each other. Throwing these rumours at one another just to I don't know, get a reaction? Plus, we were stuck at home because of Covid and my tour was postponed. It was a real shit show" he laughs bitterly and you nod along to what he was saying. That was just a terrible time. For everyone.

"Then I got to go on tour, Y/N didn't follow along for all of it but she was there most of the beginning. It wasn't the same as before. There was this distance that just never got better. And then she got pregnant" he almost sounds exhausted. Maybe he is, you're not sure how much he's slept lately.

-

Shit. Fuck. This can't be happening now. Shit! The word "Pregnant" seems to be mocking you as you look down at it. Mocking the fact that you and Harry have not seriously spoken in two days and that you're flying back home tomorrow. Mockingly reminding you that this can only make things worse right now.

"Y/N, come on the car is waiting downstairs" your husband's voice is weak through the thick hotel bathroom door. He's performing in Toronto tonight. The second day, the last day before he flies to New York and you go back to London.

You walk out of the bathroom, straight past Harry, not wanting him to read your face and figure out that something is terribly wrong. You slip into your shoes for the night and take a deep breath, no scratch that, a huge breath. Willing your facial expression to cooperate before you turn to him and smile.

"Let's go superstar!" he smiles back and walks over to you. Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth so he can plant a kiss on the back of it.

"We just might have to cancel tonight if you look this good" his free hand wraps around you tightly glueing you to his body. You know he doesn't mean it but you pretend to consider it nonetheless.

"Mh what about all your adoring fans? Won't they be so utterly crushed?" you tease against his lips. He smiles wickedly before slowly nodding.

"I do have quite the engagement this evening... how about I make it up to you after?" he presses soft kisses to the sides of your face. Framing it.

"That's a pretty good offer, I just might have to tak-"

"HARRY STYLES GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR HOTEL ROOM!!" Jeff's voice is full of annoyance as it cuts you off. Rude.

You laugh before getting pulled out of the room by your husband. The small plastic stick forgotten on the washroom counter for now.

You get a harsh reminder tho when you're back at the hotel after yet another amazing concert. You're laying on the bed completely stretched out and now only dressed in your underwear. Harry's currently using the washroom to try and get some of the remaining glitter off his face when he finds the secret you've kept all evening.

"Y/N, what's this?" his voice is so shaky that you barely even understood what he asked you. However, when you look up your brain catches up. He's in his boxers, left hand in his hair and right hand holding the test like it's made of glass as he looks at it as if it's going to explode. Fuck.

"No chance that you suddenly lost the ability to read?" you try and lighten the suddenly very heavy mood in the room. It fails.

"You're pregnant. How, I mean no I know how. Fuck, you're pregnant" he looks up at you panicked.

"We don't have to keep it" is the first thing out of your mouth. Probably as a panic response to his reaction. Not wanting this to turn into another fight.

"What?! Why wouldn't we, you don't want, I um" he takes a second. He's just breathing heavily while looking at you desperately. "You don't want to keep it?" he breathes out.

"You do?" is all you answer. You stand slowly, finding the clothes you just took off to put them back on. Whatever mood you were in is gone you're now filled with anxiety and a deep fear.

"You leave tomorrow... We won't see each other for what 3 months? In Mexico?" he hasn't moved an inch. Feet seemingly glued to the floor and limbs were frozen.

-

Pregnancy. One of the worst and best times of your life. Your gorgeous baby girl came out of all the pain you suffered. She gave a new meaning to the way you live, made you forget about all the physical pain you endured and...

"Why do you say it in that way? Like you still dread what the pregnancy brought" Trinity's voice almost startles you. You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you'd almost forgotten where you were.

"I don't! I love Anya" his voice is stern.

"What about your wife? What happened during the pregnancy?" she's digging. Wants to find the right buttons to push.

Harry stammers, but no answer seems to satisfy him. His hands are squeezed under his things, his right leg bouncing and his eyes avoiding either of you.

"We didn't plan her, I was right in the middle of my tour. We, um, we weren't doing very good and she was about to go home" he looks at you suddenly surprising you when he meets your eyes. You can't read him, can't understand what he's feeling. You haven't been able to read him in months.

"She- You, Y/N, she got really sick in February the seven-month mark. I was in Australia and I couldn't be there. It really strained us, we fought all the time over the phone and in person. I guess that's really when we went downhill" his jaw tenses when he looks away from you. Looks like he's not happy to have to have shared this with the room.

"Okay, thank you, Harry. I think now's a great time to take a breather. I'll meet both of you individually when we come back. So, see you both here in 20 minutes?" Trinity smiles at both of you and keeps smiling until you both walk out.

-

Harry doesn't come back. You wait 45 minutes in Trinity's office looking like an idiot. She dismisses you with a look of pity on her face before scheduling another appointment 5 days later, lots of work to do you assume. You rush out of the building humiliation creeping into every inch of your body. How could he do this on the first day? It was going fairly well, well you think so anyway... did he give up on your relationship right then and there?

As you make your way to your car you see him. Harry is pacing back and forth in front of his car as he seemingly argues on the phone. His free hand waves erratically in front of him, gesturing like mad for someone who can't even see him. So this is what he's been doing? Arguing over the phone while you sat in a therapist's office waiting to try and work on your ever-crumbling marriage. You scoff before turning away from him and to your car. But nothing seems to be on your side today as your husband hears you and immediately calls out to you.

"Y/N! Why are you leaving?" you hear him walk towards you, the clacking of his shoes getting closer to you but you ignore him and walk away faster.

You're completely focused on your black Subaru, the "You're so Golden" sticker catching your eye and making you more pissed off. Something that was put there because you loved the song, because of how beautiful your husband's voice is in the song but now all you want to do is rip it right off. So, that's what you do.

Your nails claw at the edges of it desperately. You don't want any reminders of Harry on your car, you don't want to think of him while putting the groceries away, while walking around the car after putting Anya in her car seat and you don't want to see it in your rearview mirror anymore. The top corner lifts as you're pulling at it giving you the perfect leverage to rip it right off. You throw it to the ground right before turning around to stare daggers into Harry's eyes.

"45 minutes, Harry. I sat there 45 minutes with our therapist looking at me like a beaten dog!" you hiss at him. He is now only about 2 or 3 feet away from you. His eyes are wide, in shock you guess, as he looks at the sticker. "What could you have possibly been doing for more than an hour that made you forget what we were here for?" you're sure you sound desperate right now. Your head is all over the place and your heart feels like it might explode out of your chest.

"An hour? I, no, that couldn't have been more than-"

"You can go back up and ask her if you want because I really really don't want to be around you right now" and now you're crying. Fuck. Why are you crying now? You need to leave.

While rummaging in your bag for your keys Harry grabs your arm. Well maybe not grabs, he just places his hand on you, resting it there delicately. If you weren't so aware of every single inch of your body right now you wouldn't have noticed. No matter how delicate the touch is supposed to be you flinch out of it aggressively.

"I'm, I'm so sorry Y/N. That was my mother, she, fuck" he sighs and runs a hand in his hair gripping it tightly. "She wants us to go up... she's rented a lake house or something I guess" his voice is so soft, shy even.

"Us? You mean you and Anya?" god you hope so.

"I'm so sorry" is all he answers.

-

Anne Twist is a very difficult woman to say no to. Actually, it's impossible to say no to her. In the many years you've known her, she's always been able to find a way to make you say yes. Always in a good way. She loves you, she has told you that countless times, and you love her but now that you're... the way you are with her son you don't know where you stand. Yet, she has still found a way to get you to agree to something you would have much rather not have gone to. You're in a small townhouse almost 4 hours away from your home in London with your mother-in-law, your daughter and your soon-to-be ex-husband. What has your life come to?

Anya is sitting in her high chair passionately eating banana slices as you watch her. She's already gobbled up the strawberries and pita bread slices she also had for her snack. She's such a good eater always so ready to try new things and taste whatever the adults around her eat. Especially the sweet treats her dad sneaks her.

"Do you want to go take a dip after huh? We should enjoy the water my love" you coo at her as she takes her final bite of food. She smiles at you like she understood what you asked and you chuckle wiping her chubby cheeks and hands. She'll be able to float around in the water for a little bit with you before you put her down for a nap. The steps of your morning are perfectly planned so that you can have your solo Zoom session with Trinity.

There is a small river behind the house you're staying in. The water goes up to just above your breast and it's the perfect warmth at this time of day. You've made your way down to it and are now setting up Anya's towel for when she'll be too tired to entertain you and ready for her mid-day snooze. She's currently lying right by you looking up at the sky with such curiosity, probably trying to figure out what the hell clouds are.

"You're so curious my love!" you shake her gently as you smile widely. "What do you see up there?" as you look up to join her sky-gazing you spot Harry making his way to the river as well. He's only got very short grey swimming trunks on meaning his entire chest, thighs, calves, and arms are out for the whole world to see. Maybe that's an exaggerated statement as you're the only one looking right now. You want to scold yourself for staring, you really really do but he's just so... so captivating and very enjoyable to look at no matter how much you resent him at the moment.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" his voice is more cheerful than when you heard it last. Must be because he's actually speaking to and looking at Anya.

However, when you don't answer his question he looks up at you. Expression now closed off again, how it's always been for the past few months. You smile politely and nod before turning your back to both of them so you can take your robe off. Your swimsuit isn't anything special; simple black one-piece that's high on the hips and low on your back. You think it looks pretty good on you but now you feel very aware of the amount of skin you're showing. You decide to just get in the water hoping its dark colour hides you. Hides away the skin your husband might be looking at.

"Looks like mummy is in a hurry, we should join her. What do you think sweetheart?" Harry picks your baby up and makes his way into the water. He holds her tightly to his chest as he climbs in, just in case he slips on the stones he uses as stairs. Once your daughter's chubby limbs meet the water her mouth forms into an adorable "O" shape. It's the second time Anya's been in the water now so she must still be unsure about this feeling. Harry turns her so that her front faces you and her back is against him. She smiles when she spots you reaching her arms out quickly which splashes some water around. She looks at you with a shocked expression and does it again with a giggle now.

"You little troublemaker! Trying to splash me!" you tease her sending some water her way. She answers with a sweet giggle and shakes her arms around as fast as she possibly can.

"Mh, my jokester gene is strong in her" Harry's voice is laced with pride. You playfully roll your eyes at him and hum affirmatively.

"And her love for singing too" you add remembering so many moments where she hums to any song playing. Her favourite thing to do is to harmonise with her father. His deep voice always gets her attention, always gets her to mumble and hum along with her own lyrics.

"Oh yes, she's the next big thing this one" he affirms kissing the top of her small head affectionately.

It's in moments like these that you tend to forget how bad it is between you. How many horrible things you've shouted at each other not caring how deep your words could cut. The accusations, the insults, the taunts and even the lies still weigh heavy on both of you. You like these softer moments, where you're reminded of how much love you both had for each other. Have? Had? You don't know anything about your feelings anymore, they are much too complicated to understand...

All three of you stay in the river for about an hour more before Anya starts yawning and fussing. When you exit the water you're quick to slip your robe back on still overly aware. Harry wraps the fluffy towel you had gotten ready around your baby. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her eyelids already heavy as she blinks slowly. You all walk back to the house together silently. Might it be to keep the sleepy baby calm or to keep the peaceful aura around you and your husband, you don't know.

Harry insists that he will put the sleepy girl to bed and that you should take a shower first. After all, you have the first private sessions with your therapist. The mention of her does make the air in the townhouse tense again but Anne appears immediately to kiss Anya before she naps. You use that moment to sneak into your shared room with Harry. Luckily, it has two single beds so you don't have to share with him.

Signing deeply you rid yourself of the now damp robe you had on. Another blessing in disguise, this room has an en suite bathroom so you'll be able to jump right into the shower. Before that you do want to set up your laptop for the video call, you want to be as ready as you possibly can be. You grab your device from your backpack and make your way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There's a bunch of papers scattered around it, one glance at them and you immediately know what they are.

Lyrics. Drafts of songs and melodies written by your rockstar husband. You don't mean to read any of the words you really don't but as soon as you spot your name at the top of one of the pages you're doomed. You put your laptop down on Harry's bed which is right next to the desk and reach for that exact paper.

The words you read are full of longing, pain, sadness and fear. They mourn love, they are mourning your love. You pick up another sheet of paper, this one has no title but there are so many lines written. This one is reeks of self-hatred, of shame and guilt... it shakes the weak barriers you've built around your heart. All of the lyrics you read on different papers revolve around the same emotions. These are all about your relationship. About the death of it. About his desire to turn around. You don't realise you're crying until a tear falls onto the paper you hold. The ink bleeds into itself where it's been wet blurring the words slightly. You quickly wipe your face and put the papers down. You shouldn't be looking at these, you're invading his privacy.

"Thought you were showering" Harry's voice startles you out of the chair. You meet the floor with a loud thud. Your tear-filled eyes meet his sharp ones. Scrambling up to your feet you grab your laptop ready to explain, ready to apologise over and over again.

"At least tell me what you think" he sighs walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. This shocks you. What does he mean? He, he's not mad? Isn't disappointed that you invaded his creative space? Your mouth opens and closes a few times unsure what you should answer.

"I'm sorry" is all you're able to get out. Your brain is blank in absolute fear but tears keep falling from your eyes.

"I should be apologising... you, you weren't supposed to see those" he walks in your direction slowly, testing the waters of how close you'll let him get. He's closer than arm's reach when you flinch backwards slightly and he stops immediately.

"I was going to ask you for your permission before making any of those full songs but you know music is how I cope" he whispers now that he's so close to you. Silence takes over the room again, stretching out for too long. Your eyes somehow keep producing tears as you try and speak. Hopelessly searching for words to say.

"Do you really miss us? You miss me?" is what you come up with, your voice is so shaky that you're on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.

This shocks Harry in place, seemingly not prepared for that kind of questioning from you. His mouth gapes and his eyes grow wide. This time you do see his hands start shaking. You're not entirely sure what this emotion is.

"Of course I do. Did you not think so?" while still whispering he reaches out to hold you but stops himself hands falling at his sides.

"Yo- Harry, you asked for the divorce. How was I supposed to know you miss me?" your voice breaks. You don't understand, why is this happening now, why is he saying these things?

-

"We should just get a divorce" Harry snaps at you as he fights back tears. Your expression immediately closes up, your body reacting before your thoughts and words do. Protecting you from what he just said, building walls around you and your heart as quickly as possible.

"Fine" you spit out as you turn away from him and walk straight out of your bedroom. If that's what he wants then so be it. You won't beg for anything now that he's made his decision.

-

"I know, okay? I know that I asked for it and that it's the reason why you don't talk to me anymore. Well, you do but not really" he sighs and sits down on his bed, damn swim trunks wetting the bed "We talk about Anya and when we're not we are yelling at each other... so when was I supposed to tell you that I missed you? That I regretted asking for the divorce..." he looks at you with a guilty expression, all his emotions are coming up at once.

"Why did you ask for it?" you ask him sitting back on the desk chair with your laptop still in your hands.

"I got in my head. You were saying we should take some time for ourselves maybe live apart... with everything that kept being said about us, I got so scared" he takes your laptop out of your grip and puts it down next to him.

"I thought you were going to fight me on it..." he adds as he grabs your hands tenderly. Like he's afraid you'll break.

You shake your head in disbelief not sure what to say. Your thoughts are all over the place, what should you make of this?

"It broke my heart" When did his face get so close to yours? You should really move away. You can't fall back into him, you can't let yourself do that. So you pull away from him roughly, your hands tugging out of his hold, face moving to the side, a sob making its way out of you as your back meets the chair-back.

When you meet Harry's eyes you can see the pain, the hurt, in them. They are brimming with tears that are so close to spilling out.

"Are we... are we too broken?" his voice has dropped to a whisper. He sounds so sad and scared.

"I'm worried" You take in a few breaths before you speak again, "What if we just end up hurting each other again? What if we can't go back?" you choke out the last few words. Tears spill endlessly out of your eyes and sobs rack your entire body.

It feels like you're running out of air and the little bits you get in are painful. Your eyes burn as you cry and your hands are shaking like crazy.

Harry might be answering or trying to communicate but nothing is making its way past your meltdown. What does make it through is the feeling of his arms around you. Him pulling you against his chest tightly, immediately rubbing your back as soothingly as he can. Your hands are grabbing his still bare skin desperately, wanting to anchor yourself in any way you can. Your face rests on his peck, right above his heart, the frantic beating bouncing around your head.

"Breathe, you have to breathe love" he speaks delicately in your ear, breaking through the barrier your body has put up.

"I'm- I'm, I can't... Harry I can't" your clawing at him almost trying to get under his skin, someplace you might be able to understand everything that's going through his mind.

He wiggles around a little before laying you both down as he keeps reassuring and encouraging you. He drags you on top of him your face now pressed up against the juncture of his neck. Your left-hand makes its way into his hair, pulling at it as softly as you can manage. Harry's hands run up and down your back, your arms, and your neck and he even pets your hair delicately. He's always known how to best calm you down... how to bring you back down to earth and out of the panic attacks you sometimes get when you're overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he repeats that over and over with a pained desperation. Harry's scared shitless too. He doesn't know how things will go with your relationship. He can't guarantee that you won't end up actually wanting a divorce one day... But he can love you. He has and will keep loving you. He hopes it'll be enough to save your marriage. He'll work incredibly hard every single day to prove his love for you... if you let him back in he won't ever let you go. He'll leave it all up to you. Your little family is all he needs, he'll spend the rest of his life proving that to you if that's what it takes.

[weaselle]

RECOVERY

I spent a lot of my life depressed without admitting it to myself and then i spent a year so depressed i could hardly make myself do the bare minimum to keep my body alive, and now it's about 3 years since i got up from that lowest point and while i am still struggling with myself things are objectively a lot better.

and i just want to put a couple things i've learned, both to remind myself of how far i've come, and in case any of what i've experienced helps anyone else.

You can't run from the darkness

When you're super depressed it's easy to focus on how much you don't want to be depressed. When everything is darkness you tend to wish you could escape that darkness.

but you can't. The darkness is all around you. You can't run away from it without running deeper into it.

instead, follow the light.

don't think of it as escaping depression, think of it as seeking joy. Don't run away from the darkness, walk toward any lights you can see.

At first it will be very small things. The taste of a food. The way your favorite color looks. A smell you like. For me one of the first things i could find to remind me of joy was the way a warm shower feels.

I would just stand in the shower and lean into the tiny, tiny joy of that feeling. I would describe it to myself, how it felt good, what about it felt good. It didn't cure me, it didn't make me less depressed, but it was a little point of joy to focus on, to breathe into like a tiny candle flame in my darkness.

I would memorize that feeling, so that later, when i felt like nothing ever brought me joy anymore, i could think, no, that's your depression lying to you, you felt joy, however small, right there in the shower just yesterday. And, maybe there is more somewhere else.

Even today, it's been a hard week, i'm feeling a lot of hopeless and helpless feelings clamoring away at me, but... i have spicy soup. And spicy soup is a NEW joy. I found spicy soup joy as i was following any little light i could out of the deepest part of my depression.

I never put hot sauce in soup before then. But today i am drinking the broth of a very spicy soup and as much as everything else is complicated and difficult and scary and dark, there is a bright mote of joy in this sip of spicy soup. And in the next one. And the next. I enjoy it, i love it, all the more that it is new, and if i had given up four years ago, i never would have known this small joy, this new favorite tiny thing.

Who knows what other little joys i may find?

If you have come to a place in life where you have lost the knowledge of how to feel joy, it is important to remember that feeling joy is like anything else in life. The more you practice, the better you get, the more of it you can do at higher levels.

And there are only so many minutes in the day. The more of them you spend acknowledging what feels good, the less of them will be left for feeling bad.

you can't escape the darkness by fleeing from it, but you can find the light by moving toward it.

Chop Wood Fetch Water

Another thing i learned was a truth about the exercise advice you always hear.

For where i am in my recovery now, common exercise has very little impact. I don't really get the endorphins people talk about, and i don't tend to feel better about myself after i work out unless i already feel pretty okay about myself to begin with. i don't mean to say there is no point in me exercising, but, i walk about ten miles a day holding onto 8 energetic dogs and i do a fair amount of lifting and bending and stuff for my job, and it's fine but it's not, like, doing a whole lot for me at this point in my recovery (tho i do think more recreational exercise will come back into play a stage or two on in my healing process)

HOWEVER

There was a year there where i was only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. When i was only able to force myself to eat just enough each day to stay alive because i'd made a promise to myself, and that promise was almost all i had left.

and the right kind of exercise is what pulled me out of that.

the RIGHT kind.

See, someone close to me needed help with a physical job. That was an important part and why this method is known historically as some variation of Chop Wood Carry Water -- it's intensely physical, which is important, but also, it helps the people around you. These days our personal communities tend to not need wood copped and water carried the same way. But you can get the same effect helping someone move all their furniture, doing all the yard work for your friends and/or family, volunteering for a charity that builds housing for homeless people, SOMEthing physically taxing that helps people.

In my case, my aging father needed help re-shingling the roof. So i promised i'd help.

So i got up every morning because he was expecting me. And i climbed the ladder because he would see me if i didn't. And i lifted and carried and hammered and worked hard. It took a week of six to eight hour days.

Right away, the fact that it was helping someone else made it not matter so much that it didn't feel like it was helping me at first. I couldn't deny that i was doing something good, that my existence had positive meaning, however small.

But very soon, it changed something fundamental in my state of depression. You can't do physical labor in the sun 7 hours a day without drinking a bunch of water. Without working up an appetite. Without getting very tired at the end of the day.

See, i had been struggling to make myself drink enough water, i was fighting to make myself eat even one small meal's worth of food each day, and i couldn't get a good night's sleep to save my life. And these things all made my depression much much worse. You think you get sad or angry from skipping a meal, consider being chronically undernourished. You think your mental state is worse after pulling an all nighter, think about what never getting a good night's sleep does.

But a couple days into this job with my father, and suddenly i was hydrated, i was eating full meals, and i was sleeping soundly at night.

THAT is what pulled me out of that deepest part of my depression.

So in a way, it was exercise that saved me. But not how people often say "have you tried exercising?" More like pushing myself physically to the point that my body demanded the things that previously i couldn't get it to want for itself.

Instead of forcing myself to eat i was craving food. Instead of staying up to all hours and then tossing and turning, i was physically exhausted and slept early and hard. (and, weirdly, being physically exhausted was somehow a relief from being emotionally/mentally exhausted)

Lastly

Healing often isn't noticeable while you're doing it

"healing is a process" is something you hear a lot, but i think it's more helpful to say something like

"Healing is like growing your hair out from short to long. You can look in the mirror every day and not notice it happening. And even when you can tell for sure it's longer than it was, you still can't really do anything with it, and it may seem pointless. But then one day you can tie it back in a ponytail and you realize how much it's grown and how many options are open to you now and you're really glad you stuck with it"

Now excuse me while i go meditate on the joys of my remaining spicy soup.

[aritsukemo]

I have a thing for.. | Furin First Year Six

Featuring: Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Kyotaro Sugishita, and Taiga Tsugeura

Warnings: Sakura's being Sakura, Reader for Suo's part is heavily implied to be a female/fem-bodied ( they're on their period ), nicknames are thrown around in majority of these ( ex. love, pretty, babe, etc. ), author has only seen the anime as of right now so characters may be a bit ( or very ) ooc! That said, read at your own volition!

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!! 🎃 I've been obsessed with Windbreaker these past few days and I finally got the inspo to write about it! >.< Thank you @maruflix! Because of them and their amazing fics, I was able to motivate myself enough to get this done. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little scenario thing I put together! 🙈

The Oblivious Type - Sakura Haruka

A sigh slips from your lips, briefly breaking the tranquil silence that was brought upon you and your boyfriend shortly after your walk home began.

Your half-in-half haired love of your life paid you no mind as it seems that he was in his own world and looking straight ahead without so much as a glance your way. And to that, you found yourself pouting.

You sigh again, this time much louder and much more exasperated, like a bad actor in a play. Alas, it seems the ears attached to that pretty little head of his was all for show.

Guess you have to be more direct.

"I'm kinda hungry," You commented, your head—which was comfortably resting on his shoulder as you walked—tilting upwards some more so that you can better gaze at him. Sakura, at last, looks you way, and as usual, he locks eyes with you only to immediately look away, his face suddenly flushed crimson. You found the corner of your lips beginning to lift at the sight..only for them to fall moments later when Sakura fixes his lips to say, "So what? Why are you tellin' me?"

You could feel a wave of fire building in your chest at his response, yet part of you still had hope for him. And so, you huffed out a small, "Nevermind," waited a bit, and tried again. This time saying, "It's kinda chilly out here, don't you think?"

From this angle, you were able to catch a clear sight of his mismatched-colored brows knit into a split line. His eyes avoid yours and you felt his arm began to move to sling off his jacket.

..Or at least, you thought he was going to give you his jacket. Instead, he moved his arm to scratch the back of his head as he grumbled in that growly voice of his, "If you're cold, you should've brought a jacket or something. It's not my problem."

And that officially set you ablaze beyond recovery. As swiftly as a snap of a finger, your entire demeanor flipped and a deep frown embedded itself on your supple skin.

"Agh! Forget this!" You snatched your arm away roughly, nearly yanking Sakura into you in the process, and began to stomp off while grumbling under your breath about the whole ordeal you created.

"What's your problem?" Sakura shouted after you, his pace speeding up to catch up to you.

"You! You dense dummy!" You yelled back to which the dense dummy in question responded, "Hey! Who you callin' a dummy?!"

A loud groan booms throughout the street, "Just shut up and go away! I'm walking myself home!"

And to this day, Sakura has no idea what happened that evening or why his friends laughed ( or gave him pitying looks ) the next day when he told them about it.

The Prince Charming Type - Suo Hayato

A drawled whine slips from the damsel in their bed as a wave of pain struck their gut. It was that time of the month yet again, and like always, the first day was kicking their ass—quite literally at times.

After waking up to a crime scene this morning and being forced to strip their bed of it's many sheets along with their pajamas, they had been just about immobilized by abdominal pains. You could imagine how much of a pain it was to force themselves into the shower and make their bed.

And to make a bad situation worse is that they're cravings were through the roof! They wanted everything, soba, chips, chocolate, omurice rice, dorayaki—everything!

Needless to say that you've spent the entire morning curled up in bed trying not to throw up from the sheer pain while dreading your entire existence..and that's when he appeared.

With that suave smile of his, the beauty you had the honor to call your boyfriend—and savior—waltzed in your room with a large bag in hand.

"Morning, love," He cooed in that ever so serene voice of his, "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," You grumbled to which you earned the wonderful melody of his chuckle.

"I figured. I checked the calendar," He said, his implications becoming further clear as he sets the large bag at the edge of your bed and took out—

"My heating pad!" You cried out as your upper half shot up—an action you instantly regretted as your shout vibrated throughout your entire being, further enraging your body along with the sharp movement you just performed and ultimately causing you to keel over on your bed.

"You left it at my house," Suo replied—answering the silent question that started floating in the air after you let out a whiny groan—as he swiftly unraveled it and handed it to you to place on your stomach before plugging it up.

"I also noticed that you ran out of pain medicine so I got you some," He mentioned, before following up with, "Would you like to take some now or after you eat?"

"After I eat?" You parroted, confusion dripping off your words. And, with that gorgeous smile of his serving as your only hint, his hand disappeared into the bag. Returning to the surface shortly after with another smaller bag in tow.

"Is that—?" "Your favorite takeout? Yes, it is," He neared you once again, his free arm coming down to gently help you into a sitting position before swapping hands to place the takeout on your lap and adding, "No need to wonder what's inside, I got your usual."

Gods, what did you do to bag such a man? The thought popped into your head at the same time a smile popped onto your face and your hand began eagerly digging in the bag like a starved man.

"Where would I be without you..?" You mumbled before popping the first bite of your food in your mouth, your rough movements causing a bit of sauce to splatter across the corner of your mouth, making you look rather..unladylike. Not that you've been exactly the classiest person today.

Regardless of your appearance, Suo looked at you as if you were the one who created the word beautiful, gazing at you oh so lovingly as he took a napkin from your bag and used it to gently swipe the stain away. And, despite your rather rhetorical utterance, Suo answers your earlier question with a teasing, "Probably still curled up in pain and whining like some hurt little kitten."

You hum in agreement, mouth having already been stuffed with another large bite of food as relief began to surface at the heat that finally enveloped your stomach.

"I'll go and throw your bloody sheets and clothes in the washing machine," He said, leaving a chaste kiss atop your head before spinning on his heel.

"How did you know—" "Just had a feeling," He shushed, smoothly putting the topic to rest as he disappeared into your hallway..only to immediately poke his head back in the doorway.

"Oh, and when I get back, I'll be all yours," He said, "We can watch your favorite cartoons if you'd like."

And like a little kid, you beam, "Yes please!" Gods do you wish you could give a thank you kiss to whoever raised this glorious man!

The Romantic Type - Mitsuki Kiryu

As soon as you got home, Kiryu wrapped up the game he was playing rather quickly—despite having been so invested in it moments prior—and went to your side on you guys' favorite beanbag chair.

Like the cat he was, he curled up to you—who had immediately leaned against him upon him sitting down—and caged you with his arms, which was practically a blanket from how baggy the cloth that surrounded them were..

"How was your day, beautiful..?" He hummed lightly in your ear, his chin resting against your shoulder—which he noticed was quite stiff, but didn't comment on it.

A raspy sigh leaves your lips, one filled with nothing but frustration, "Rough," Was all you told him and his hand was already trailing over to rub at your side, the other entangling itself in the hand closest to it.

"Wanna talk about? Or, do you want to just skip to the part where I make you feel better?" He asks, his question coming off as a silent invitation as he started placing kisses along your shoulder blade, saying in between pecks, "Doing both is also an option. I'm really good at multi-tasking."

And in a matter of a minute, he already had you giggling like a some lovestruck schoolgirl. The burning irritation and headache from the earlier events that occurred was still there nonetheless.

"Whichever you want to do.. I don't really care I just..want to stay like this for as long as possible," You told him, and with a hum of confirmation from him, he begins to shift.

He moves you to one leg, his hand leaving yours and trailing up your arm, your shoulder, until it reaches your jawline where he stops to gently push it in his direction. Your head softly rolled, and the moment the two of you locked eyes, his lips were on your skin.

He started up high; his lips connecting with your temple where he could feel the vein angrily pulsating. He then kisses down your face..

"Sorry you had such a bad day, pretty.." He said in a hushed tone, his lashes tickling your skin as his lips took the time to cover the entirety of your cheek in little pecks before moving to plant a kiss to your nose.

"If I could, I'd take all this irritation and pain from your cute little head," He moves to your other cheek, leaving kisses as best he can from the angle he's at before moving over to your jaw, his hands rubbing firm circles into your lower back, firmly palming and messaging at the tensing muscle, "Since I can't though, I'll just make you feel better some other way."

"We could play a game," He suggests, his assault on your flustered face pausing so he can look you in the eye, "I can cook you a meal..or would you prefer it if I ordered aomething instead? That way, we can snuggle like this and you can take your anger out on something."

You hum. Truth be told, you had stopped processing his words as soon as he left the first kiss on your skin. That said, at the cool call of your name, you dumbly responded with a dreamy-sorta-sounding sigh..which went straight to his heart.

Honestly, if he was able to bring himself to move his hands away from you, he'd take out his phone, snap a picture, and add it to his collection of other saved pictures of you.

"Nevermind," He chuckled as he leaned in to kiss your lips at last, his lips trembling against yours from his attempt at trying to conceal his laughter, "Let's just make out, yeah? We can think later.."

The Idiot In Love Type - Akihiko Nirei

Joyous giggles burst from cherry-colored lips, it's buoyancy and airiness serving as a stark contrast to the dull, loud chatter that fills the background. It was like music to his ears. Like an angel singing or a siren's call.

Regardless of what it reminded him of, he'd be put under the same spell over and over nevertheless.

It was, at last, the end of the week which meant that it was finally time for you and Nirei's biweekly date night. This time around, you wanted to treat Nirei to something extra special..and what better way to treat your man than to take him out to a fancy restuarant?

It took a minute to walk all the way here in the outfit you were wearing, but it was worth every blister and every dime! The staff has given the two of you nothing but ten star quality service and the food is to die for!

..Alas, you couldn't help but think this was a mistake. Quickly into the night, your adorable boyfriend had been struck silent for reasons unknown and had simply been staring at you. To avoid awkward tension from arising, you've been rambling on about your week only to get a couple of hums and nods from him.

You knew a scene like this one wasn't exactly Nirei's cup of tea, but you didn't think he'd be this turned off by the atmosphere..

And so, after having your fork between your teeth for so long that you're sure you left a permenant dent in the shape of your teeth in it, you set it atop your plate and called Nirei's name. He hums as he's been doing for the past hour now and it makes your lips quirk down along with your brows.

"Hey, Nirei. Are you..enjoying yourself?" You asked, and as if he was snapped out of a spell by the sweet symphony of your voice, he blinks and his mouth falls open to let out a stammering, "H- Huh?"

"You don't have to lie," You reassure, but your tone sounds more and more defeated with every word you utter. And your face..it reminds Nirei of a sad kitten and it's causing his heart to ache, "I can call a waiter over and we can leave."

"What are you saying?" He asks, his face giving away the genuine bewilderment he feels towards your sudden exclamation, "Why would we leave? We only just got our food.. I- Is something wrong?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" And that furthers his growing panic as he stutters out, "Wh- What do you mean?" And thankfully, you notice his sudden distress to which you reach your hand across the table cloth—being careful to avoid his glass—as you offer your open palm to him.

And without hesitation, he latches his hand onto yours, allowing you to curl your fingers around the edge of his hand while your thumb strokes the supple skin.

"It's nothing you did, hun'," You reassured, "I just noticed that you seemed a little..distant this evening. You haven't talked much at all and you've just been staring and—" You sigh softly, pausing for a moment to collect yourself. Nirei waits, not saying a word the entire time.

"..I just.. I just assumed that you don't like it here..and that's completely okay by the way! There's always the next date, right?"

"What are you talking about?" He says, his brows frowning impossibly deeper into his freckled skin, "I love this, really! I'm having a great time!"

And this time, you're the one giving him confusing glances and making sounds, asking, "I'm serious Nirei, you don't have to lie to me It's okay if you're uncomfortable! I could tell.. You were really quiet and staring like you were.."

And without hesitation, Nirei blurts out, "Well that's because I think you're really pretty." And a curtain of silence as cast over your table.

Well, it did for a moment. Once Nirei actually processed what he said, he let out a small squeak and slapped his hand over his mouth, looking absolutely mortified at the face of your gentle, awestruck expression.

"I- I'm sorry I probably shouldn't have said that I mean it's true that you're really pretty but now probably wasn't the best time to say that and I'm so so sorry if I creeped you out or—" "Is that why you were acting like that?"

"Huh? ..Well, yeah..I- I guess you could say that.." He bumbles like an idiot as his eyes drink in your every micro expression. The slight twitch of the inner corners of your brows, your trembling lips, the growing stain of red beginning at the tip of your ears which is only noticeable after you pushed some strands of your hair back and scratched at your cheek..

You should be apart of a painting in a museum. It'd be an honor to be the painter of such a piece..though, he doesn't believe he'd be able to capture your radiance like other, far more skilled people probably could.

And before he knew it, he was mumbling nonsense, "I find you appealing in every way. From your smile to your laugh to your marks and blemishes.. Everything about you is so alluring that I just..get lost in thought about it, y'know?"

And you were struck silent once again. Before his regret causes him to shoot out a bazillion apologies per minute, however, you recover and slowly bring his hand up to your face. Nirei watches with flushed cheeks as you place a bashful kiss to his knuckles.

"My sweet prince..'had me worried for a second.." You mumbled against his skin, letting his hand go as you let out a breathy chuckle and your own hands come up to cover part of your face, "Now I feel silly.."

And just like that, he was under your spell once again, never to break out of it until your eyes reluctantly released him later that evening..

He's not complaining.

The Quiet Chivalric Type - Kyotaro Sugishita

A stuttering breath slips through your chattering teeth as a rather strong, chilling wind nicks at your skin and blows through your hair.

This was the last time you were ever going to listen to your tv.

You see, that morning you had a bit of a dilemma; you had no idea what you wanted to wear today. Usually you'd just throw something on, but since your boyfriend decided he wanted to spend the entire day out with you, you wanted to dress up for him.

It wasn't the best decision you've made, but you decided to consult in someone you thought would never lie to you; the weatherman. He said, and you quote, "It'll be warm throughout the day with low chances of showers!"

Turns out he was full of shit. As the day went on, the sky began to gray and cloud little by little, until, guess what, it. freaking. rained! Not a few droplets either, it was literally pouring buckets for, like, an hour!

And now, you walk alongside your boyfriend, your cute summer-theme outfit thoroughly drenched, your arms caged around your chest, and you shivering and shaking like a leaf.

If you get sick you swear to the gods above you'll—!

Dampened warmth suddenly spreads around your being. It was like the sun had given you a hug or more like you had been enveloped in blankets after a nice, long shower; complete heaven on earth. What's more is that this warmth has a scent to it. A rather pleasant aroma that reminds you of..

Your eyes drift, widening at the sight of Sugishita now stripped down to his gray tee, his Bofurin jacket—the symbol that stood for all that he idolizes—now draped over your shoulder.

"'What are you doing? You got soaked too. At this rate, you'll get sick.." Despite your protests, your grip on his jacket only tightened, your finger fiddling with one of the buttons. And like your body, it seemed that your boyfriend was just as unwilling to accept the jacket back, a semi-loud, gruff huff slipping through the thin opening his lips parted to create.

And at the face of such stubborn kindness, who are you to refuse?

With a smile beginning to form on your face, you lower your arms from your chest, one hand quickly coming up to cover your exposed body with the jacket while the other reached for his hand..

"You're a lifesaver, 'Taro. Thanks for this," You told him, stopping the two of you momentarily so that you can plant a quick kiss to his cheek before continuing your journey home once again.

..And as you predicted, your poor boyfriend had caught a real bad cold overnight and was bedridden with a fever by morning. You felt absolutely horrible as you tended to him with his freshly washed jacket hanging off your arms..

The Athletic Golden Retriever Type - Taiga Tsugeura

"Ninety six... Ninety seven..." Loud shouts resonate throughout the cozy little living room, it's volume shaking the liquid of all drinks in the vicinity. One is sure that if it wasn't for the furniture being as sturdy as it was, the boom of his voice would rattle them to the point of collapsing.

All that's to say that you didn't mind the noise. As you sat comfortably crisscross on your favorite seat—which so happened to be your boyfriend's back side—your eyes were trained on your phone, eyes following every movement the dancers on the tiny screen made as their voices were blasted along with a catchy tune throughout your bulky headphones.

Even with such deafening noise surrounding your earlobes, you still gave a part of your attention to the man, who was currently pushing you up and down as if you were a mere dumbbell, below you. That said, through the music, you were still able to hear the gruff yell of Tsugeura as he yells, "Ninety nine... One hundred!"

As he eased himself to the ground for the nth time that day, you released him of your weight by sliding off his back and onto your furry rug. You then immediately reached to flick your headphones off your ears—ignoring the fact that your music was so loud that you could still hear the music as clear as day despite the headphones no longer being on your ears—before your hand closest to him came up to ruffle his hair.

"Good job, baby," You praised, "Want your protein shake now?" And to that your boyfriend nods his head up and down like some excitable pup to which you gingerly awarded him with the banana-flavored protein shake.

As he sat up and began gulping down his already half-drunken drink, you watch in silence. Patiently waiting for him to finish his treat before speaking again.

"Is that all for your afternoon workout?" You asked him to which your boyfriend loudly responded, "Yeah! Thanks for the help, babe! The extra weight really did the trick!"

"Am I really that heavy?" You questioned, beginning to frown at the thought. You were never one to exactly care about your weight, but to be so heavy that your buff ass partner likes to use you as a giant weight is a little..

Tsugeura blinks, looking rather bemused as he replies, "Not at all! You're practically a feather!" And despite the sheer amount of confidence in his words, you found yourself skeptical.

"Then if I'm so light, why make me do all of this? I mean, you make me sit on you while you do push ups and I sit on your shoulders when you do your squats," You mentioned and without missing a beat, he says with a big grin plastering itself on his face, "Well, it gives me the excuse to spend time with you!"

You freeze, and as his words process in your head, you feel your face grow warmer and warmer. It seems your boyfriend noticed it, but didn't understand why you were suddenly so abash. That said, he tilts his head to the side as he stares at you.

You're sure that if he had ears, they'd be flopping to the side along with his head. It'd truly be an adorable sight.

"Hey, what's wrong? Why'd you suddenly go silent? You're turning all red too."

"It's nothing. I was just..thinking about some stuff."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[idesofrevolution]

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

[3liza]

are there any meds organizers/pill boxes that are

1. larger than a blush compact

3. have multiple compartments (more than 6)

4. not plastic

5. not ugly

i take about 10-20 pills a day. some of them are enormous, like big vitamins. many of them are as-needed and not daily or scheduled, so weekly organizers are NOT a good solution for me

i don't like distributing those pills into weekly organizer caddies for many reasons, the most important one being that I will just not do it because i don't want to. i find the process odious and difficult even though it's fast and easy. i suspect there is something about the executive function requirements that make doing that task difficult for the same reason I find mailing packages to be like performing a quadrille. i suspect this is due to medical issues relating to my brain

i want to have compartments, but NOT daily compartments. i want to dump all my vitamin b pills into compartment 1, and all my vitamin c pills into compartment 2, and all my Adderall into compartment 3, and so on. because I don't always need or want to take every type of pill I have, most of my medication is "as needed" and this doesn't work for weekly organizers. i have used weekly organizers to just hold different types of pills in each compartment and this works but it's annoying to deal with the days of the week labeling, and the organizers are ugly.

I currently have all my "usually have to take every day" pills which are mostly very small prescription pills in a set of three metal containers that are not ugly. there are 2 traditional "pill boxes" as seen in the 20th century to go in a lady's purse.

and then one Altoids tin that just has everything in it that wouldn't fit in the smaller boxes. and then dozens of bottles of larger pills in the kitchen.

so I have three boxes of pills I have to carry around from room to room all day. i don't like this. and I don't like how there are three separate boxes. i also don't like how everything bigger than this that I can find is made of plastic. and I don't like how the latches aren't secure enough to tolerate being occasionally dropped on the ground. what I want is the same form factor of the tiny pill boxes I have now, but 5x bigger. the weekly caddies are big enough but they're ugly.

i need like. a Mancala board with a secure lid:

they do make Mancala boards that fold shut. however that's still only six compartments. i need the Mancala board to have more pits in it and then it would be perfect. there are variations of Mancala with dozens of pits but they're too rare for me to be able to find the boards on ebay

wait what the fuck

also i DONT want one of these, they're not a good form factor for my use case:

I'm thinking probably a jewelry box or trinket box is the right move here but I want the compartments to be more secure than jewelry boxes usually are, and I also don't want them to be covered in velvet, because velvet is impossible to clean and pills constantly slough off various powders and dust.

simple wood trinket boxes are the right size and shape (about the size of a book) but are usually for putting your weed accoutrements and don't have internal compartments though. i can DIY internal compartments, but that requires effort and organization, the two resources that are least accessible to me. and if I'm going to do that much work it's sort of pointless buying anything to begin with, I may as well just make an entire box myself at home out of bamboo or something. which I might do because I'm fed up!!

something like this could work but I hate the plastic pouches. they will start falling apart in a year

[dark-konohagakure2]

Sasori x terrified female

They had fought before and she somehow wins. She thinks Sasori dies but in reality he ia angry and wants revange.

tw: noncon, fear play, misogyny, face-fucking, age difference, degradation, hate-fucking, breath play, sadism

All characters depicted are 18+

There are two things Sasori hates; being kept waiting, and losing, much less losing to a little girl around fifteen years his junior. Never in Sasori's nearly fourty years of life has he been "beaten" and. He is mad.

Of course she didn't actually beat him, but she came pretty damn close, and that's more than enough to draw Sasori's ire. Sasori's anger is contained yet clearly visible, his face will still be a mask of indifference, but his eyes will be wide in an unnerving and almost unhinged manner, letting her see just how badly she messed up.

Sasori is easily able to overpower her in her current terrified state, his wooden hands roughly gripping her face as he intensely stares into her eyes in complete silence for what feels like forever, despite his lack of words, he makes it clear with his actions what he plans to do to her.

She's so terrified that she doesn't realize what he's about to do before it's too late, and Sasori's cock is already crammed down her throat, the taste of wood and a man's natural taste fill her mouth as he begins to roughly fuck her face, only speaking to threaten and admonish her, his voice every so slightly strained.

"Idiot. Stupid, stupid girl. Did you think I'd be that easy to beat? Well now I'm about to show you what true defeat tastes like."

Sasori's movements are almost mechanical as he shoves her head up and down his cock, his pelvis roughly smashing against her face with each thrust, he wants her to really taste defeat, and he'll do so by forcing her to choke on his cock over and over again.

He doesn't give her even a second to collect her bearings, pounding her throat at a breakneck pace, the intensity is nearly enough to make her pass out. Feeling especially sadistic and vengeful, Sasori will even pinch her nose shut as he's face-fucking her, getting a sick kick out of how scared she looks whenever he does it.

Sasori doesn't express much emotion on his face, but he can't help the sick grin that breaks out as he restricts her breathing, bringing her to the brink of unconsciousness before deigning to let her breathe again, he'll repeat this process multiple times as he crams his cock down her throat balls deep, getting to control every aspect of the encounter right down to her very breathing.

Once he's done with her, which will be after a long or short while depending on how pissed he is, Sasori will force her to gulp down every drop of his cum, making sure she understands that as punishment for her insolence, he's now going to make her his permanent cumdump.

"Swallow it all down... good. Now, I was going to be merciful and just kill you, but I think I'll keep you as my own personal puppet forever after all you put me through today..."

Sasori isn't lying when he says he'll make her his puppet, because that's exactly what he'll do. Unlike his usual puppets, Sasori will keep her alive as his personal cumdumpster, and she really can't tell if that's better or worse.

[blitzwhore]

I think the thing that kills me the most is that I really do think Blitz was picking up what Stolas was putting down. He's smart, he's observant, and I'm pretty sure he was already processing things as Stolas was speaking. Putting all those things Stolas has done that back up what he's saying now together in this context. He's got those big, shiny eyes going from Stolas to the crystal to Stolas to the crystal, and by the end he looks like he's really starting to hope. And then his self-loathing comes in with the steel chair and goes, "too unrealistic, settle for bondage like the rest of us", and his eyes lose their shine and their hope. It's too good to be true, so it must not be.

I completely agree. Blitz really does seem like he's following what Stolas is saying and putting the pieces together before his instincts kick in. Not just that, but Blitz looks genuinely disappointed and bewildered when Stolas stops him in his tracks when he starts "role-playing". He genuinely thought Stolas had to be messing with him—so much so that when his role-play doesn't work, it confuses him even more, because that was the only other possible explanation to everything Stolas just said to him.

And when Stolas says his goodbye and dismisses him with strained formality, stepping away, realisation hits Blitz again and he immediately backtracks and reassesses the situation. His "You were serious? Hold on, Stolas, what the fuck?" isn't him judging Stolas or calling Stolas crazy. It's him trying to understand. Was his first read of this situation really the correct one? That can't possibly be. But Stolas actually looks like he was serious, so it must be. At this point, though he's still not letting himself feel that hope that almost took over him a moment ago, Blitz is trying to figure out if he can maybe, possibly, eventually get there.

But then Stolas says he already has his answer from Blitz. And here's the problem: by the time Blitz is beginning to actually comprehend exactly what Stolas is saying and the implications, as well as what feelings he's allowed to safely feel in that moment, Stolas has already put an end to the conversation.

And this same pattern is repeated from beginning to end of the scene. Throughout their entire meeting, the gates to both of their hearts keep opening—desperate to be seen, understood, and wanted—and then closing again—too terrified of being hurt, too ready for heartbreak and disappointment, to remain open for too long.

And, every single step of the way, they are desynchronised. Over and again, one's door opens just in time for the other's to close. And so neither of them is able to see the other's gates when they open. All they ever see is the other shutting them out.

Only at the very end does Blitz manage to finally look at Stolas and see. But by that point, it's too late. Stolas is already shutting him out, but this time for good.

(Or so it seems. For now. Rest of Season 2, save us!)

[secondbeatsongs]

Hello, you said in some tags in a poll that Speed Racer (2008) is your favorite film. If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to hear more about why you love it. I love the Wachowskis’ work (they’re among my favorite directors), but I kinda ended up bouncing off Speed Racer (2008). So, hearing that it had a real impact on someone makes me very curious why. I’m not interested in criticizing your opinion or arguing with you, I’d just really like to know why you love it in the hopes I might be able to enjoy that movie more in the future.

oh god this is from seven months ago, I'm so sorry - but I do love almost everything about Speed Racer (2008) and I still think about it nearly every day.

I love that it's so bright and colorful and absurd. I love that it's an anime in live action form. and I love that at its heart, it is a story about love.

it's about the mistakes people make out of love, and the consequences of that. it's about the way children grow to understand why the adults around them make the choices they do, and maybe choose to do the same things. it's about taking risks for the people you love, and the pain of failing to change the world, because everything is capitalism and everything hurts.

(and it's also about being transgender btw. like, that's one of the main things about it - it is very much a movie about being transgender)

what if your father's choices hurt your older brother, and your older brother's choices hurt you, and now it's you and your younger brother staring down a future where you're going to end up hurting him by making the same choice?

and then...what if you can escape that? what if the broken parts put themselves back together, and the hope doesn't run out, and you're not alone with the things that haunt you? what then?

and now you're at the end and mistakes were still made, people were still hurt, but everyone's grown and changed and they're different now. and they've figured out that maybe, just maybe, you can change the world by doing something you love, by creating art and beauty and making people feel things.

maybe you really can defeat capitalism by driving a car really fast. and even if everyone thinks you can't...don't you have to try anyway? shouldn't you fight with the skills you have, the only way you know how?

what if it works?

and I'm not even gonna get into most of the Racer X stuff (because I want people to go watch this movie, and most folks probably won't be spoiled for it), but his whole deal is just...everything. I love him.

(if there's a guy from Speed Racer that I want to put in a jar and shake every so often, or maybe wrap in a blanket so he can have a nice nap, it's Racer X. he's a great character. prime blorbo material)

anyway I've been rotating this movie in my head ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I've seen it...seven? times now? and I still cry at the final race, and I still get blown away by the intro sequence.

(the beginning of the movie is genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen - it does an amazing job of introducing you to the world and the story of the characters, and gets you emotionally invested in it right from the start. it's fantastic filmmaking)

also like. story stuff aside, from a technical standpoint, the movie is a masterpiece. it's the type of thing that people hated when it first came out, but when you look at it now and see how it was made, how it intentionally looks bizarre and cartoonish, plastic and surreal, you can see the exact vision the Wachowskis were going for, and it's brilliant.

the way they did the visual effects, the way they made the outdoor scenes feel so detailed, the way the driving and the tracks work - they put so much thought into that, and the behind-the-scenes vids show how cool their process was.

also uhhh cars go vroom, crash into each other, flip upside down, explode, maybe have bees and hammers in them sometimes?

(the above is me complimenting the unhinged vibe of the races themselves, which I love very much)

anyway I could make other full posts about the script of the film and how much I love it, or the cool side characters, or the fanfic potential of the amazing world of the film, or how I can prove that it's set in 1991...but I guess if anyone wants those rants, they'll just have to watch the film and then come talk to me. :)

(please. please come talk to me about Speed Racer.)

so, yeah! I kinda lost my mind there and made this post way longer than I intended, but I do feel strongly affected by this movie, and I hope this has helped explain why.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 3: sick/injury

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Where is Agent Y/L/N?” Spencer asked one of the police officers, trying to remain as calm as possible after hearing about the incident. The team had split up to cover more ground and, from what he had heard, you had been the unlucky one who had had to face the unsub, so you were probably bruised or even injured.

When the man pointed in a direction, the doctor could see you sitting on top of the ambulance, deliberately refusing the attention that the paramedic was trying to give you, so he immediately jogged to get to you.

“Oh! Thank goodness you're here, Reid. Tell this man I'm fine, there's nothing to worry about."

“Let me see you,” he murmured benevolently, as he leaned in your direction to hold your head with both hands and his eyes danced all over your face “Good night, did you check her vital signs?”

"I did it. Everything is fine, she is just a little shaken.”

“That wound on your forehead looks ugly,” he pointed out, when he turned your face to get a better look at it, completely ignoring your complaints. “I think it can be solved with steri-strips. Have you already disinfected the others?”

“I was trying to do it, but she won't let me,” the paramedic complained, as a teacher would do to the parent of a disordered child.

“Because I'm fine!”

“Oh, shut up,” he exclaimed, beginning to ask the health personnel for the appropriate healing materials since you refused to let them do it for you.

You huffed with resignation, because you believed that the doctor's presence there would save you from the routine processes and not that it would be the opposite. Spencer began to disinfect your wounds carefully and silently, feeling your attentive gaze on him until he finished.

“Did he hurt you more?”

“It only hurts on one side, the bastard kicked me,” you said without much importance, while you rubbed said area and his eyes opened wide.

“What if you have a broken rib? Let me see…"

“Reid,” you stopped him, because his hands had already gone, without a morbid intention, to the edge of your blouse to lift it “I appreciate your interest, but I'm fine, I would be crying from the pain if that weren't the case. I just have a few scratches and that's it. Calm down"

He felt guilty for being so insistent and wanted to be able to explain to you that he was only doing it because your well-being worried him tremendously, but instead he stayed silent and just nodded his head. His shy gesture touched you, so you reached out to pull his hand and pull him close to you.

“I'm sorry,” you added, while you hugged him from the side and he responded warmly. “It's just that you know I hate that you worry about me.”

“But I will always worry about you.”

“I know,” you laughed. “But save that concern for special occasions. Now I'm fine, you see?” You murmured as you raised your head in his direction, showing him all your teeth in an exaggerated smile. “Although I would feel better if you did something else.”

"What?" he asked with genuine interest, hoping he could be of help to you. You turned a face and pointed your thumb at your cheek, right next to where you had a bump that would probably turn into a purple mark. “Do you want some ointment there?”

“I want a kiss, Reid,” you laughed and when he opened his mouth in understanding, his cheeks also blushed “Only if you want.”

“Yes,” he responded kindly and then leaned over to you to place a chaste kiss that made you giggle. “Why does that make you feel better?”

“It just does,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Sometimes Spencer was too naive and didn't notice that you were madly in love with him.

“Well, I'll save this knowledge for future occasions,” he promised, putting on a tight-lipped smile that you had grown accustomed to.

And then every time you were hurt, he made sure to kiss you to speed up your recovery.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl

[pigfacedbitch]

Are You That Dense?

summary : what do they do when their crush is oblivious of their feelings.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Arthur / Merlin / Morgana x Reader

warning/s : it's kinda sad on Merlin's part (at least for me)

here is my masterlist!

Arthur

Arthur would be clueless as you are, maybe even worse.

The prince of Camelot wasn't raised to process his feelings properly (no thanks to dear old daddy), so he thinks his infatuation is under the pretense of friendship.

Many find it hilarious. Everyone knows how much Arthur loves you... except the two of you.

He just doesn't understand why he's always wanting more than the platonic affections you give him, yearning for you when you're not around, or thinking about you all the time.

Don't get me wrong, he knows he enjoys your company. Both his whole world and time stops when he's with you; the heavy responsibilities of the crown and endless problems are temporarily forgotten.

Arthur also feels the need to impress you, sometimes more than Uther. He already likes showing off to a crowd but when you're watching him? There will be 1000x more effort.

"Why do I feel this way, Merlin?"

"You are in love with (Y/N), clotpole."

"Oh. I suppose you're right."

"Is this the moment where you order me to get her flowers?"

"...Yes."

Merlin

I'm sorry but Merlin prefers it that way.

As much as he desperately wants to to straight up confess to you— to be able to touch you, kiss you, and love you openly, he doesn't want to put you in danger.

Apart from a secret that will get him executed, he deals with dark entities all the time and those will eventually catch up to him. He can't risk it, especially if it's you.

There will be a lifetime of labor and hardships if you choose to be with a manservant. Being with a druid will likely get you hurt or killed too. You deserve better than what he can offer. You deserve better than him.

His feelings for you may not be obvious as Arthur's but for people who are perceptive (ehem Gwen maybe?), they will encourage him to court you. He'll only reply that there's no use and you'll never see him as something more than a friend, especially if you're a noble or royalty.

However, Merlin is only human. There will be times when he can't help himself, giving you small gifts or favors he won't do for anyone (even Arthur).

"Thanks for the help, Merlin."

"I would do anything for you, (Y/N)."

"Why?"

"Uhh... Cause we're friends, right?"

Morgana

Morgana will make you her own amusement.

Best believe she will test you, to see how long can you remain unaware of her feelings. It entertains her to no end, better than the performers Uther hires in banquets.

She will go all out— giving you all sorts of touches that's reserved for lovers, bringing you expensive presents, always spending time with you, and even kissing you in both public and in private.

Morgana will search for any reaction on your face every time. But you just continue to innocently smile and thank her for being a 'good friend'.

Everyone thinks you two are dating because of her public display of affection but you shrug it off whenever someone asks you about it. Morgana, on the hand, just smirks and winks.

If it takes too long and she begins to get impatient, she will just knock on your door and confess her love.

"I am in love with you, (Y/N)."

"You are?"

"YES! How can you be so blind—"

"I thought we're just friends?"

"HOW IS MAKING OUT WITH YOU, PLATONIC?"

Until then, she and Gwen will be laughing at your obliviousness as they enjoy their afternoon tea.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 4

Just a heads up tomorrow is the start of my posting hiatus. I will still do WIP Wednesdays and will be posting headcanons and stuff like that during that time. I will begin posting again on Sunday Sept. 1st. I haven't decided which story will get each slot, or if I just post based on vibes. Most likely vibes if I'm honest.

In this we get the first of Eddie's presents to Steve, Eddie refutes the stupid Steve charges, and Steve remembers something important that he forgot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Steve was living it up in the pool. His parents had an outdoor heated pool, but it was more for leisure than laps because of it’s weird oblong shape. But this? It had an outdoor pool, but the indoor pool was Olympic sized. Like proper with the lane lines painted on the bottom and everything.

So he practiced his backstroke and butterfly. And by the time he got out his muscles were deliciously sore and his skin was wrinkly. He showered and then padded over to the sauna to relax his ache muscles.

As he was the only one there, he set the temperature to slightly hotter than warm but not scorching. He wanted to rest his muscles not sweat out every toxin in his body. Once he was feeling good enough, he got dressed and walked back to his hotel.

He looked at the swimsuit in his hand and realized he wouldn’t have do laundry here if he didn’t want to. Wow. His mom always made him do his laundry even though they had a maid who would wash his parents’.

Steve looked at his watch and decided it was time for some dinner. He threw the swimsuit into the laundry basket and went to go blow dry his hair. He pulled out his but then noticed the one already on the counter. His eyes flicked between the two and there was no doubt that the one the hotel provided was way better than his.

He put his back in his bag and turned on the hotel’s hair dryer. It never overheated or would start to smell half way through the process. He ran a little gel through his hair and spritzed his hair three times with the hair spray.

He admired himself in mirror a moment. He was good looking. He knew that. But he never in his wildest dreams thought he had the looks to pull a rockstar. Like that was crazy levels of confidence. But looking in the mirror just now, maybe he could see what Eddie saw.

Steve walked up the table that had his wallet and picked it up. He pulled out his fake ID, the one that got him this cushy hotel room. He wouldn’t be able to use it for god knows how long, but he wanted to keep it. As a memento of sorts. God. He was already feeling melancholic about the whole thing and it had only been five hours.

That was when he spotted it. On the bed was a big white box. He frowned and walked up to it slowly. He wasn’t worried about people getting in. This was a hotel. It was probably put there by housekeeping or even the concierge. He knew better than to keep anything in his room that might interest a snoop.

He just wondered who gave it to him. He picked up the card and read it.

-To my little Canary

A parting gift from me.

Promise me you’ll wear it and think of me often

-Your Eddie

Steve lifted the lid of the box and inside was the most beautiful silk pajamas he had ever seen. It was a short-sleeved button up that stopped just an inch or so below the waistband of the matching shorts. The shorts themselves weren’t very long, not quite booty shorts level, but close. Both in a soft, light yellow color. Perfect for summer time.

He ran over to the phone and quickly dialed Eddie’s cellphone.

“Hello?” the warm, dulcet tones answered.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, even he knew it was. He was just so excited.

“My little Canary,” Eddie purred. “I take it you got your present.”

“I did,” Steve said, twirling the cord around his finger. “They’re beautiful. I can’t wait to wear them tonight.”

“Good,” Eddie said, a smile evident in his tone. “I hope I go the size right. Did you do anything fun today?”

Steve told him all about his day swimming and the sauna. He even told him about the hair dryer because he was just that excited about it all.

“That sounds great, little Canary,” Eddie said, his fondness oozing through in his tone. “I’m sending someone by with a card that I will load money on so that you can get things like gas for your car and other things for your personal hygiene, as I assume you’ll want to buy that stuff yourself.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve found himself saying, almost against his will. “Could have gotten by with the hotel toiletries.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but I wanted to give you the option of a choice.”

Steve blushed deeply, glad that Eddie couldn’t see him in that moment.

“Look, little Canary,” Eddie purred, “we just got to our location and I have to go, but I’ll call you after the show and tell you all about it.”

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ll talk then.”

He hung up after they said their goodbyes with a sigh. He flopped on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

Fucking hell. What was he even doing with his life?

His stomach growled. Well, for starters, he guessed he was going to dinner.

~

When Steve finished his meal, which was even better than breakfast...He never had a steak melt in his mouth like that before. It was so soft and buttery and the potatoes tasted of rosemary and garlic, the carrots were covered in a glaze that tasted of honey and something darker.

He shook his head.

Anyway.

When he finished his dinner he went back up to the room. He resolved that he would need to do more than just swimming to keep the delicious food off his waistline. He was going to have to check out the gym here.

Steve looked at the time and decided it was too early for bed, but he got into the new pajamas anyway. The shorts were pulled on first and fuck. Steve felt sinful just wearing the damn things. They cupped him in all the right places but when he moved or sat down they didn’t ride up or pinch. He seriously thought about not putting on the shirt at all. But the desire to see the full effect won out.

He pulled it on and buttoned it up. And just like the shorts, the top was form fitting but comfortable. The V in the neck from where the highest button went (it didn’t button all the way up) just showed a peek of his chest hair.

He admired himself in the mirror for several minutes before he forced himself to go back out to the suite.

Steve grabbed the remote and started flipping the channels. He was used to cable as his mother needed her HSN and his father needed the soccer score. Not because he was interested in the game, but because he’d bet on foreign games.

But either his parents only had basic cable or there were a bunch of new channels added recently. And he was willing bet it was the former.

He found a late night baseball game from a Japanese league and started watching that. He couldn’t understand the announcers and he didn’t know the players’ names, but it was still baseball, regardless the language.

Before he knew it the game was over and it was late at night, finally time for bed. He got all snuggled into bed when the phone rang.

“‘Ello?” he muttered sleepily.

“Oh, darlin’,” the warm tones caressed his ear, “did I wake you?”

Steve hummed in the negative. “Just getting ready to sleep. Tell me all about selling out Indy.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I’d ask you how you knew Corroded Coffin sold out tonight, but you spent all of last night surrounded by my fans. Even the stupidest person on the planet would have had to pick something up.”

“Mhmm,” Steve murmured. “That’s me, stupidest person on the planet.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two. “Who says you’re dumb, baby?”

“My parents,” he said softly, “my first girlfriend before I realized I was gay, my ex-boyfriend, you know the one my parents kicked me out for? And um...the kids I babysat for are all like super geniuses, so they get frustrated with me a lot.”

“Oh my little Canary,” Eddie cooed. “You’re not dumb. School smarts isn’t everything. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s true,” Steve said, a little less sad. “I’m talking to a bona fide rockstar.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie agreed. “But let me tell you about my night and see if I can’t lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice.”

“I’d really like that.”

So that’s what Eddie did, he talked and talked until he could hear the soft little snuffling of snores from his Canary.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

~

When Steve woke up the next morning, the phone was still dangling off the cradle from where it fallen the night before when he fell asleep listening to Eddie.

Eddie had a great talking voice. Dude should do books on tape or voice acting or something. Maybe he’d tell him the next time he called.

He stretched and yawned. He woke up just as well rested today as he had yesterday. Which meant that as good as the sex was, and it was amazing, it wasn’t as big a factor in his night’s sleep as he thought.

He got up and went to go grab a shower. He hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, as he had used the swimming pool’s showers yesterday. He ordered breakfast and then hopped into the shower, telling them to just come in and leave it next the sofa.

He dried off with one of the most luxurious towels.

Steve stopped for a moment. He really needed to stop comparing the hotel to the life he led before being kicked out. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even in the same state let alone ball park. His life here would always be miles away from the life he left behind.

New cage, same as the old cage really except real gold instead of merely gilded. Better food, furniture, amenities. Same limitations. Can’t drink, but he could smoke.

So he went out on the balcony to do just that. He brought his food out with him and just smoked, watching the busy crowd below him.

Oh shit!

He scrambled back inside the hotel room and fumbled around for his wallet. He pulled out a little laminated card and dialed the one on the top.

“Henderson residence, Claudia speaking,” the warm motherly voice answered.

“Mrs. Henderson,” Steve whined, almost in tears at the sound of her voice.

“Steve?” she asked gently. “Oh I was wondering when you were going to call. Dustin has been worried sick. He went to Family Video yesterday to return “Ghostbusters” and the snooty girl at the counter said you’d been fired for sodomy!”

He winced a little at the harsh word she used. “I–I’m gay, Mrs. Henderson,” he whimpered into the phone. This was it, she was going to turn him away too. Forbid Dustin from seeing him, then it would get around to the all the other parents and he wouldn’t be able to be around Holly or Will. And–

“Ah...” she said, just as gentle and warm as before. “Can you help it? Can you choose who you love?”

“No, ma’am,” he whispered, hanging his head between his shoulders.

“Then why would I care?” Claudia huffed in annoyance. “The first thing a mother should learn is to love your child no matter what, no matter who. Now, if Dusty gives you a hard time, you let me know. You hear?”

Steve felt a swell of pride in his chest, she might have not had been his real mother, but he should have known better than to bet against Claudia Henderson.

“Here, let me go get him,” she said softly. “Would you like me to explain it to him first?”

A lump formed in his throat as he choked down tears. He forgot he wasn’t isolated. He wasn’t cut off completely from people.

“Yeah,” he said, his lip quivering. “If you would.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Claudia said warmly. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have long to wait. Soon there was the sound of Dustin practically screaming in his ear.

“Hey, bud,” he said when he could finally get a word in.

There was a sniffle. “Why didn’t you call me and Ma? We would have taken you in.”

Steve’s heart swelled again, this time in utter love for this butthead. “Because my dad would have seen to it that she lost her job at the library and with your dad having just passed, I couldn’t do that to you, to either of you, okay?”

There was another sniffle. “Okay...”

“Here,” Steve said, “I can’t tell you where I am right now, because no doubt my dad is trying to run me out of town, but I can give you a phone number to call. I might not always be there, but you can leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“I guess that’s acceptable,” Dustin huffed. “Can I tell everyone you’re okay?”

Everyone meant his kids. Max, Elle, Will, Mike, Lucas, and Erica. And well, Holly, too. But she was too young to really understand what was going on. Technically Erica should be in that same category but she was too smart to be left out. Steve didn’t even bother trying most days.

“Yeah, bud,” he murmured. “You can tell people I’m safe. Just keep the number to yourself for now. I don’t want my dad knowing where I am.”

“Roger that!” Dustin said.

They talked for a few moments longer before Claudia took the phone back.

“I’m going to call the PTA calling tree,” she said, “and get the word out that you’ll be unavailable to babysit for the foreseeable future.”

Steve hummed. “I think that’s the part that upsets me the most about all this shit.”

“I know, sweetie,” Claudia assured him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

And he was absolutely certain if anyone could, it was Claudia Henderson.

He let out a sigh of relief for the first time since he was kicked out.

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

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[blueskittlesart]

Hi, I’m a huge fan of your art and I wanted to know a little bit about your comics. About how long does it take you to make one, and how do you stay efficient about it? Also, how do you decide which parts are black, which are white, and which are gray? And are any parts of the process particularly difficult? I think it’s really beautiful how you can get so much across in your comics without crowding too much in each panel, like in manga for example. Also how most of them are entirely black and white. I’m asking all of this because I have a story I’ve written, and I want to turn it into a comic, which I’ve done before. But I’ve always become discouraged when I overshoot and make it way too detailed from the beginning and not be able to get that same amount of quality with more complicated panels. Thanks if you answer this.

HIIII. so the time that it takes to do like one page of comic varies for me depending on the level of finish i put into it, but i'd say not counting the scriptwriting or layout, the actual art for one page usually takes between 1-2 hours to finish. any more than that is too much for me, personally, but one of the things i've learned at art school is that i work INSANELY abnormally fast, so that kind of pace might not be sustainable for you. (i'm currently doing 5 pages a week for my thesis which is the kind of pace that kills people. it might kill me. we'll see.)

my best advice for b/w/g placement is to have an idea of what you want your finished panel/page to look like BEFORE you start drawing it. if you're just drawing the lineart and then filling in the black and gray after the fact, it's going to be much more difficult and you're going to run into problems like tangents and legibility issues with your color placement. especially when working with a limited palette, knowing roughly where each color will go before even beginning the project helps a lot. I'd also suggest trying to limit your use of gray to like, 3 tones max. I usually only use 1 or 2 if i use gray at all. this helps keep things in high-contrast and therefore more legible. Line weight is also especially important when you're only doing black and white, because it helps create depth and ground us in space when there's no color to do so. in general, don't be afraid to go for big blocks of black, but try to think about where and why you're using them!

As for your comment about overshooting, my advice is to ration. we joke sometimes about how manga artists will use a much more simplified style up until like, a big climactic scene and then suddenly lock in, but that's a genuinely useful tactic sometimes. You don't necessarily need a background in every panel if the background isn't the focus of a scene, and that leaves more energy for you to go all out when you DO need a big fancy establishing shot or some complex perspective or whatever. obviously you shouldn't just be totally phoning it in on less complex panels, but don't try to kill yourself over the less important details. focus on what's most important to get your point across in whatever situation you're working with!

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

In awtwb, we see Simon take his cues from Baz – he doesn't know how to be in a loving relationship (outside of friendship) and doesn't know how to express romantic love or sexual attraction.

We see Simon slowly learn from Baz, picking up what Baz puts down (making progress in bed when he switches his focus to "pleasing Baz") or identifying the things Baz does for or to him that he likes, and trying to do them for Baz. "I like the way Baz constantly checks on my well-being, you think that could be annoying, but it makes me so happy I wish I always had this..." after reading Baz being Simon's rock, the shoulder Simon leans on for a whole book... we see Simon doing the same thing for Baz in SFC. We see Simon start to use pet names for Baz after Baz has been using them with Simon since they got together, so we can infer that Simon likes when Baz calls him love and darling (and he would, since he insistence on being called Simon and not Snow comes from wanting to feel closer for Baz, since he was used to associating Snow with their distance)... but it doesn't end there. Or rather, it didn't start there...

On their very first meeting, Baz holds back while Simon can't resist the incredible pull he feels towards him. Much can be said about their meeting, about how much it says about the characters and the way they act about their feelings for the other, once they become aware of what those feelings actually are, but I don't want to get sidetracked here. Simon is someone who refuses to process (and so isn't used to analyzing himself or his feelings, or knowing what he wants outside of the very obvious – that being "I want a family, stability, to belong"), who needs something to guide his actions at all times... and so would be used to react to what he thinks other people are putting down. It's a survival instinct.

I think Simon has always been taking his cues from Baz.

When Simon first meets Baz, it's a moment characterized by an irresistible pull, an unbearable pain that can only be soothed by touching Baz. That's how loving Baz feels like for Simon. That's how attraction feels. It's painful to not be able to touch Baz (he will pick fights not just for his attention, but because is the only way he knows how to touch him... note how quickly Simon escalates in his touches in less than 24 hours once the truce begins). And Baz reaction to Simon in that first meeting? He's feeling the same things too, and yet, he restrains himself. While such control can awake certain admiration, his restraint in the face of such intense feelings can also feel like a rejection. Why else wait to hold Simon's hand? Maybe he just doesn't want to touch him at all, maybe he sees Simon as beneath him – which is something Simon could feel and internalize on a subconscious level, even before Baz starts acting in ways that Simon feels like it’s saying that more blatantly (which is part molded behavior and part of a wall – when Simon is like "Baz is the most arrogant person I know" I think Baz was very much exaggerating that shit around Simon, but that's another post)

This sets the tone for their future interactions. I'll never stop saying this because I'm not a bitch easily fooled by unreliable narrators with unprocessed homosexual thirst: Simon has always been following Baz around. It's just the intensity with which he follows him that varies. In one way or another, he always found him interesting and mysterious and enthralling... I also always say Simon is the obvious one between the two of them – he doesn't know, but his behavior betrays him (when Agatha and Penny both figure out in hindsight that Simon's behavior towards Baz has been gay behavior for years... it's them mostly looking back at Simon's behavior, they didn't know Baz like that back then). Baz is way better at hiding himself, and the defenses he employs are thorny. His walls have barbed wires at the top. When Baz looks unimpressed by Simon, but his behavior makes Simon think he's absolutely despised? Simon lashes out – Baz is a(n incredibly fit) creep only capable of making 2 or 3 expressions >:c (yeah, I picture Simon making that face, like he's pouting... because he is! Mr. "I know you're alive because I have been observing your soul" doesn't truly believe this shit). When Baz looks unimpressed by Simon, but his behavior makes Simon think Baz loves and wants him? A turn on, actually. Baz’s resting bitch face makes Simon want to climb him like a tree and suck his face. The difference is in what Simon is picking up from Baz (even if other things also come into play)... that has always been the case, I think. He's not free of impulses (he's full of them, actually) but a lot of his behavior centers on what he thinks (or assumes) (whenever he assumes we have problems) he's getting from Baz.

[wordsnstuff]

Hello! I just had the realization my original plot just isn't going to work but I'm almost done with my first draft and I'm too married to a lot of my scenes I've already written to feel like i can fully start over. Do you have any advice? Just thinking about starting over is making me want to put the pen down for a while...

Starting over near the finish line

By first draft, I'm assuming you mean that this is the first attempt at putting the your story to paper. What I'm about to say is not to devalue the incredible amount of work that you must have invested up to this point. It is an accomplishment on its own to sit down and put words on that page, let alone reach a point anywhere near a finish line.

The first time you do something (anything) is rarely the time you do it well, let alone perfectly.

If I sat a beginner down with some printouts of blogposts about knitting and a spool of yarn, I doubt they'd make me a sweater without having to undo at least 50% of the moves they make. That wouldn't be because they're stupid or genetically predisposed to suck at knitting. Regardless of how seasoned you are as a writer, each work you approach is like starting a brand new hobby from scratch. You have to mentally allow for space to make errors and to let go of good ideas. This doesn't mean you throw the good and essential core of your story out.

Take significant time to review what you have, identify the bits and characteristics that you find most emotionally and mentally compelling. Write them down, examine the commonalities and congruencies between them, and work out exactly you like about your story as it stands. There is always good amongst the bad. You seem to already have identified certain parts that you cannot bring yourself to let go, so once you figure why that is, you'll be able to trim away what doesn't serve you and move forward.

You aren't starting over. This is not the beginning, and you will never be back at the beginning again. This is process, and process is imperative to making anything. If you continue to visualize writing as an act that starts at point A and ends at point B you will never be done. Nor will you do justice to your ideas. If you don't allow them to waddle around and fall on their face like the newborn babies that they are, they won't develop as they're meant to.

This is not failure. This is writing. It's a necessary part of what you're doing. It's normal. It's good for you. It's good for your story. In fact, it speaks well to your character development and world building and even your plot development that you can recognize there is so much worth salvaging in this first attempt to bring to the next. You're already emotionally connected to so much of what you've made, and plot is only part of that. If you're able and willing to acknowledge what doesn't work, you will be able to trust yourself when you determine what does. A story is a sum of its parts, and this is just one part that you're going to put down, regroup, and reconfigure.

There are several resources that I've created over the many years to assist in plot development and all the problems encountered within, and those are available on my masterlist for your perusal.

I wish you the best of luck and look forward to your triumphant follow up once you finish that second draft.

x Kate