#for me to remember things i need to read a paragraph a day. no more

[lost-victorian-sailor]

im looking at all the amount of stuff i need to learn in a year in order to score high on the exams and go to the university and i already hate it. i hate the process of learning because it is incredibly hard for me. i hate that my memory just doesn't work at most times and like i read things for the 10th time and the second after i remember like. nothing at all. honestly i do not know how i will survive this year. it only gets harder and harder.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

save me local historical attraction

local historical attraction save me

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[yapithoughts]

You grew up in a house that was full—but never warm. Where the sound of television drowned out the sound of your crying. Where the bare minimum was met: food, allowance, shelter—but not affection, not care. At two years old, you learned the silence of being unseen.

No one checked on you when you cried. No one clapped when you topped the class. No one panicked when you scraped your knee or came home from school with heavy eyes. No one showed up to parent-teacher meetings or recognition days. You existed, but you were never truly noticed.

They gave you what you needed to survive—but not what you needed to feel loved. And you never asked for material things. You just wanted someone to sit beside you and say, ‘I’m proud of you.’ Or ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’ You just wanted someone to care.

So, you learned to protect yourself. You built walls out of independence and numbness. You grew into a version of yourself that never asked for help, never expected anyone to stay.

Then came college. A new beginning, but you walked through it the same way you always had: guarded, withdrawn, alone.

Until he appeared.

White-haired. Blue-eyed. A little too loud, a little too kind. The kind of boy who radiated light and warmth in all directions, even when you tried to look away. He sat beside you despite your headphones, despite the signal you gave off that said, ‘Leave me alone.’ He didn’t take the hint—but he wasn’t pushy either. He just… stayed.

Eventually, something shifted.

You became seatmates, groupmates, quiet companions. You ate together in the classroom instead of braving the noise of the cafeteria. He always adjusted to you—not out of obligation, but out of a quiet desire to understand. To be near you.

Then, one day, he confessed.

He liked you. Maybe even love you.

You froze. You had never been in love. You had never even been loved properly. So you hesitated—scared, uncertain, unsure if you were even capable of returning something so pure.

But he was patient. So patient.

You said yes, eventually.

And he gave you more than patience. He gave you a version of love you had never known. He remembered small things you said in passing. He read your silences like they were whole paragraphs. He never asked you to talk, but when you did, he listened like every word mattered.

He saw past your coldness, your detachment, your habits of disappearing when it got too much. And he stayed.

Still… that voice in your head never left.

‘How long until he realizes you’re too much? Too distant? Too broken?’

You wanted to be better for him, but life never gave you space to rest. You were always exhausted. Sometimes you forgot to reply to his messages—not because you didn’t care, but because you barely had energy to exist.

And sometimes you saw his messages. You stared at the screen and felt your chest ache because you wanted to reply—but the weight of everything stopped you.

The guilt hit you in waves.

‘Am I becoming like them? Am I making him feel invisible? Am I hurting the only person who truly stayed?’

You didn’t understand why you were like this. You just knew it was happening, and it terrified you.

Then came summer vacation.

You thought the break would help. But instead, everything crashed.

You were drained. Emotionally numb. Buried under school expectations, parental pressure, and the weight of trying to be okay. You disappeared—not intentionally, but fully. You stopped texting. Stopped updating him. One week passed. Your phone buzzed over and over, but the thought of responding felt too overwhelming.

Then—a knock.

You didn’t move for 20 seconds. Just stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy. Then, slowly, you rose from bed and opened the door.

There he was.

White hair slightly messy. Eyes red and swollen. Shoulders tense like he’d been holding back everything for days.

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. But you stepped aside, letting him in.

The guilt swallowed you whole. But so did the exhaustion. You wanted to apologize, explain—but how could you explain something you didn’t fully understand yourself?

You were lost. Tired of pretending to be okay. Tired of waking up every day carrying burdens. You knew you were pushing him away. And it hurt. Because he didn’t deserve that.

He turned to face you, eyes glistening.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something? Please, enlighten me.” His voice cracked on the last word. You could feel his heart breaking in real time—and it mirrored your own.

“You didn’t do anything wrong…” you whispered. Your voice was small, like it hadn’t been used in days. “It was all me. I don’t know what to do anymore. And I don’t think you deserve someone who makes you doubt yourself because of what I have been going through.”

You still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking… and I wish you’d let me in. I’m not only here because I’m your boyfriend. I’m also here as your best friend. Someone who you can lean on… Please don’t carry all the burdens inside you. I’m here, love…” He stepped closer, eyes soft but pleading. You could see the way he was holding himself back—careful not to break you more.

“I don’t want to see you like this… Hurt me or push me all you want but I can’t leave you. I will not leave you. Please, love. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t want to change you because I know how hard life is to you, but I just want you to let me in without pushing me away.” And then he wrapped his arms around you.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a lifeline. He held you like someone anchoring a drifting soul, grounding you to the moment. You didn’t respond at first. But slowly, like thawing ice, your hands lifted to cling to him.

There were no more words. Just two bodies standing still in the soft glow of the room, both heavy and hollow in their own ways.

You didn’t have a sudden epiphany. You didn’t become healed.

But you felt his heartbeat against yours. Steady. Unshaken.

And for now, that was enough.

He understood you even in silence, as if your silence was a language only he had taken the time to learn. With him, you felt seen—not just noticed, but understood in a way that made your existence feel undeniable. The way he looked at you wasn’t with pity or curiosity, but something deeper, something reverent—like you were a puzzle he was willing to spend his whole life studying, not to solve, but to appreciate. In his presence, you no longer felt invisible. You felt real.

And maybe, for the first time in your life… you were ready to let someone stay.

— Author’s note

For my archer girlies out there, this one’s for us. For the ones who’ve always felt a little too much or not enough at all. Who carry quiet battles and still show up anyway. Who love in silence and fear being a burden. You’re not hard to love. You’re just used to surviving. You deserve someone who stays—and more than that, you deserve to let them. So take your time. Breathe. You’re not broken, you’re just healing. Love you all <3

[nagaytoe]

THE KID AT THE BACK

-theories

(- Posted before the new version of day 1 and day 2 -)

Did i sit down and analyze this game for 3 hours straight because I'm hyperfixated on it? Yes, yes i did.

This isnt proof-read and long as hell so buckle up for a joyride, y'all (by the way, there's another TKATB fanfic in the works as we speak and also some fanart, though I'm not sure wether to post it or not... well, we'll see!)

Some of these might not seem all too thought through (??) Since i was kind of grasping at straws here (and it was like 2 a.m. lmao), so if y'all have questions/need me to elaborate or have theories of your own feel free to share!

(There's some inspiration here from other people in the Fandom, most of them from the community section on itch.io which isnt available any more)

Sol knows the player longer than we think

My theory ->

-Fantasia stated that one of her 3 biggest inspirations was the game AMNESIA

-In amnesia the mc loses her memory in an accident. One of the love interests is her childhood friend and also the only yandere in the game (at least from what i could find out)

-She already drew Sol with Forget-me-nots and in the valentines day special the boquet sol gave us also contained Forget-me-nots

-In the book (this gallery thing with all the cutscene images) on the top of sols page is written 'Remember Me' which implies we forgot about him

-Annabel Lee Poem:

+The poem contains the line 'I was a child, she was a child' which furthermore implies that Sol and MC knew each other as kids

+Except for the last two paragraphs the poem is written in past tense, which could be talking about sols POV with us

Perhaps MC had an accident, as mentioned above, and MCs father (highborn kinsmen) tore MC away from Sol to the countryside

+The poem mentions angels killing annabel lee which could also mean something like this: MC doesnt die but, however, gets amnesia. That way, the MC sol knows and loves is dead because MC no longer exists the way MC did before (also the fact that she forgot him)

Some people theorize MCs farm is near the sea and that is the reason why sol hates the sea (i believe the city is near the sea and that's where MC 'died' (maybe MC almost drowned and got Amnesia that way?(apparently its possible for people who almost drowned to get amnesia)))

+"The speaker loves annabel lee to the point of death and even after death" (MCs view how to interpret the poem) (-> Sol loves MC to 'death' (the day they got amnesia) and even after 'death' (after MC got amnesia and 'died' in a sense, as a person))

-sol says he thinks death is beautiful, i didn't really know what to make of that, the only conclusion i came to would be: If MC actually did drown and lose their memories due to that, sol might have been involved in MC drowning (or at least blames himself for that) but viewed MC losing their memories as a 'second chance' with them, since they can start from anew (perhaps he made some mistakes with MC in the past which all eventually built up to MC drowning (it could be that we were already teens at that point)

-sol states afterwards: "But people refused them to let them be together, as if fate refuses them to die together" which supports my theory that MC was taken from Sol by someone (most likely the father after he witnessed Sols behaviour and his final straw was MC drowning because of him) the 'let them die together' could mean something like their relationship 'dying' and then starting over again or perhaps he tried to die with them, who knows (all this is really far fetched i am grasping at straws here lmao)

-in a really quick scene right after he mutters "I'm won't let it happen to me... not again" (some people view this as Sol already lost someone he loved dearly but it could also be the MC who was taken from him

ANOTHER THING I COULD IMAGINE -ABOUT DYING TOGETHER COULD BE:

MC almost died, Sol went after them but they were already saved, Sol just didnt witness that and almost died himself/wanted to die but was saved from that by someone (maybe hyugo? Though, he is an exchange student)

-Another theory on hyugo. It's canon that he is an exchange student, however i do believe he is from this city (since he knows about the hierarchy and his brother Geo apparently is no exchange student), moved away and is now back for business (relating to his 'mafia schemes' but under the disguise of being an exchange student)

Maybe he moved around the same time MC left or some time after that

-Hyugo mentions on the rooftop that we remind him of someone and the pronoun of the person he refers to changes based on the one the player picked for the MC in the beginning. It could mean we remind him of someone else entirely, someone maybe not even related to sol (though i doubt that) or to the MC and he knows them from back then but maybe thought MC died as well and cant believe they actually survived (maybe he want to spike MCs memory by doing that)

-A dream within a dream: MC mentions that this poem, at least to them, talks about the uncertainty about something, like life (which could also imply that they might be uncertain about some things in their mife because they simply forgot them due to amnesia)

-THE SECOND DAY 'THE KINGDOM'

+some people think the kingdom (by the sea) refers to MCs farm and implies its near the sea, however in day 2 we find out about the hierarchy in the city and considering my theory that MC actually is from the city and almost drowned there, i believe the kingdom by the sea is the city. MC does mention in the beginning that they lived on the farm ever since they were a child, however, it could very well be that we moved there right after the incident that caused MCs amnesia (if MC was akid when it happened it would really matter because then it would still fit with the fact that they lived there since theyre a child, however if they were already a teen, perhaps the father moved there immediately to cut off all ties to Sol and told us we have always lived there on top of that (considering the previous theories)

The father also didnt seem fond of the idea that we go to the city (the fact that he is is indebted to someone from high class could imply he might be from there), that could be because he knows how dangerous the city is (and how we could potentially meet sol again)

-maybe the reason for the debt is that MCs father suddenly bought the farm land to get us away from the city as soon as possible and had to take on a loan from one of his contacts in the city

-we know that this is MCs last year at the university, if we say shes minimum 22, and was already in the school for 4 years that would mean she got there at 18. If the 'drowning theory' events took place when MC was a teen (like 16 maybe) it would explain why the father was indebted (i also think 2 years is an believable timeframe a higher class person would give someone to pay off their debt)

-at the end of day 2 sol says he's sorry for leaving us and "i dont know what I'll do if..." which supports my theory that he lost us once (and he blames himself as the reason (again, MC drowning?))

-inspirations:

+ https://www.tumblr.com/sweet-herbal-peach-tea/746168072919023616/tkatb-theories?source=share

+ https://itch.io/t/3749638/whats-the-secret-between-hyugo-and-sol

Another theory:

Sleepy Hollow and The kid at the back

-In the nicknames the boys have for MC (fantasia released that on twitter and tumblr) sol calls MC pumpkin (like the pumpkin of the headless horseman (also in the gallery there is a pumpkin above the book)) and Crowe calls them '(star-crossed) lover'

Star-crossed lovers are people who love each other but can't be together

I believe this might imply that, even though Crowe is the second romance option, MC can't be with him no matter what they do

I also found out that the nickname is a phrase from romeo and juliet (which furthermore implies crowe will die)

We know what romeo and juliet is about: romeo and juliet cant be together because their families are enemies (some people believe Crowes father might be them man MCs father owes money to(i personally doubt thah though but it would support this romeo and juliet situation)) and at the end romeo thinks that juliet died, kills himself and then juliet turns out to not be dead but kills herself after seeing romeo dead

-Jericho Ichabod is a character from Sleepy Hollow, along Katrina (the FMC who owns a farm (what a coincidence)) and Brom Bones (its implied he is the headless horseman). In the story, jericho courts Katrina at a party, she rejects him and on his way home the headless horseman kills him (in the scene where Sol accompanies MC to class he says 'it's always been you ichabod' which could furthermore imply that crowe or his family have something do to with the fact that Sol and MC arent together)

In the library scene with Crowe he asks MC about their opinion on marie Antoinette and when MC says something negative about her, his reaction seems kind of strange. MC also brought a book about torture devices and execution methods and in that book is a picture of 'The Executioner' and he has scars on his arms, wears a mask and a chained collar. This correlates with some of sols features. He has scars on his arms (as seen in one of fantasias drawings), wears a chocker (he also wears a mask when he breaks into MCs room but that's really something anyone who does that would do). This implies even more that he will kill crowe.

[sanjisblackasswife]

ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕆𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕞

Blk Fem Reader x Sylus

Bad Summary: Sylus likes reading to you through a—girl its in the title.

CW/// Mentioned Pussy Eating, Fingering, Corny Dirty Talk, Sylus does say Kitten once i think

Sylus was a man of sassy words and also none at all. One of the many “quirks” he has that you notice he has was a rule of you wearing no panties when you lie in his bed.

You did it once because you were too lazy after your long shower to properly put on anything other than one of his shirts, when your big boyfriend came to cuddle you that evening his warm hands crept up and felt a very sweet (and slightly wet) surprise.

Now, it’s his new rules.

“Take them off, sweetie.”

You never questioned it. Many things about Sylus is that he does stuff you don’t particularly felt the need to ask about and he knew you wouldn’t so a lot of habits were formed this way without saying.

Some days when you forget to take them off he will slide them down, nearly teasing himself and take your cute little panties into his drawer.

A drawer your suspect is filled with your panties, but he replaces them everytime so you didn’t care.

“You do it.” You shrug as your eyes were glued onto a new book you taken from his shelf, hearing his dark hearty chuckle you felt the bed slightly shift and in no time arched your back lightly feeling the cool air of his room hit your cunt.

“Look at that.” He marvels, carefully taking your red panties down from your ankles, “She’s wet. What exactly are you reading, sweetie?”

You clench around nothing, hoping he couldn’t have seen your menstruations, but with those eyes he had he not only seen your clench he could even smell your arousal.

It was embarrassing to say, but the book you’ve been so glued to was a dark romance…with a lot of spicy moments, and there was a particular scene you began to read about the couple that made you reimagine it with you and Sylus.

And it subconsciously turned you on.

You felt his piercing eyes on your thighs. Jiggling with every uncomfortable shift on the bed to ignore him. It was hard though.

“Oh…” His fingers push up the book to get a good look of the cover, “That book….I’ve also read it, but never had the same reaction as you, Kitten….getting yourself riled up?”

You tsk at him and shut the book, tossing it on the night stand to face your back towards him. He embarrasses you so easily, it nearly pisses you off.

And he knew it. Sylus knows it’s easy to tease you so he begins to use his way of “apology “ by laying on his side behind you.

“Going to bed already? I wanted you to read to me. Especially the one paragraph where Johnny gets in between his wife’s thighs and…”

“Devours her whole.”

His minty hot breath in your ear made you try to arch your back off the bed but Sylus’ arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back against his bare chest. “I remember reading how he licked her clit just how she liked….but you love when I suck on it don’t you?”

You nearly roll your own eyes back, but instead your head falls on his shoulder, your breathing getting shallow.

“It was on his point of view and he mentions how sweet she tasted on his tongue, the tightness of her warmth around his mouth and fingers, as he…. Pressed his ring and middle finger inside her…”

Kind of like what he’s doing to you right now.

Sylus’ palm moved in circles as he scissored you gently, his breathing getting heavier as he is getting more turned on by how your suppressing your own moans.

“She rolled her eyes back, the songs of his name…—“

“Sylus…” You hummed.

“Repeated out of her lips as he latched onto her cute little clit before groaning against it. The tip of his tongue cold as ice in comparison to her hot cunt…”

Somehow, he managed to rile himself up, because he was no longer talking about the book.

He was talking about you.

“He uses his tongue to spell out his name, just as another way to lay claim on her beautiful pussy…”

“Sylus…”

He pulled his fingers out to gently land on your clit, tracing shapes that if you focused spelled out—

“S. Y. L. U. S.”

Eventually the S turned into a tight figure 8 , pushing you towards a familiar knot and build up in your tummy.

“Sylus…!”

“And he reacted to her ear, still playing with her and he says, cum for me’.”

His voice almost strained as if he were begging. Took you to the edge making you grind against his fingers to extend your orgasm, your loans being swallowed into his mouth.

“Then, after she releases her juices onto him, he kisses her. Reminding her that she’s right where she needs to be. With the man that adorns her.”

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[suskz]

Not my fault

pairing: sub!Felix x dom!fem!Reader

tw: jealousy ; smut ; mutual masturbation (m!rec) ; mommy kink ; cock slapping ; orgasm denial ; begging ; overstimulation ; there are safe-words between Felix and reader but they don’t use them

w/c: 922

a/n: this is just a thought I had about Felix a couple of days ago remembering those smut audios of whiny lixie that make me damn hot. and wanted to share it with you. This is literally just pure smut, so I had no idea how to title it lmao. You’ll understand the title reading one of the paragraphs; literally, it’s just one paragraph (not that the whole thing is that long lol), the rest is smut, but it makes sense anyways, so.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Felix didn’t think it would end like this. With him sitting on the edge of your bed and you kneeling between his legs, your hand moving skilfully up and down his length.

His eyes are filled with tears that haven’t yet fallen. They’re tears of pleasure, or perhaps irritation. He doesn’t even know.

His cock is hot, wet, and it feels almost swollen. Pre-cum drips from its tip, which you occasionally collect and spread along its length.

“S-sweetheart…” his voice is low and trembling, but he doesn’t use his deep voice —it wouldn’t come out as sexy and dominant as he’d like, only desperate.

You interrupt him immediately, “Oh no, don’t try to sweet-talk me now,” you tighten your grip around his cock, and he whines at both the gesture and your words. “You won’t come until I let you.”

A sob escapes his throat, and he feels tears might start streaming from his eyes any moment.

His moans become louder as he feels that immense pleasure building up in his abdomen, only to be taken away just before it completely takes over. You remove your hand from his cock, and he cries out, pushing his hips up into the air instinctively with heavy breaths, feeling his release slipping away.

His mascara is ruined because of his eyes that had been closed too tightly, and now there are black dots on his cheeks above his freckles.

As soon as he lowers his hips onto the bed, you reattach your hand to his cock, and he moans obscenely and thrusts up into your palm, but you detach it after a few strokes.

“P-please,” he whimpers looking at you, “Please, mommy please,” he chokes on a sob.

You give his dick a light slap, making him gasp, “Stop talking and take it,” you start fisting his cock vigorously again, and Felix throws his head back, closing his eyes and feeling small tears forming at the outer corners of his eyes.

Breathy moans leave his throat. His face contorts from the slight pain that the tight grip of your hand causes on his sensitive cock.

When he feels his climax approaching, he expects you to remove your hand, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, you warn him.

“You won’t come until I allow you, understood? And stop being whiny.” Felix feels like crying. He squirms to escape your touch and tries everything to hold it in. But it’s difficult after all the times he’s been denied to come.

“Y/n— mommy please I can’t, please stop—” he wants to be good, he really wants to; in fact, he keeps his hands in place without moving them to stop you or, earlier, to touch himself, just as you told him; but it’s too hard for him right now. His hands clench into fists, gripping the sheets in his palms, and he takes deep breaths, trying to resist as much as possible and hoping that you’ll allow him to come soon.

Because he promised you he would be a good boy for you, after you two got home and you got angry because he talked to a girl who was hitting on him. “I didn’t realise, I promise you.” he said, but that didn’t sweep away your jealousy, so you forced him to stay still where he is and take what you give him because next time he needs to pay more attention to the people he talks to.

But it’s too much for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes, “I’m… I’m so sorry, I can’t,” the tight knot in his stomach grows tighter as pre-cum oozes from his tip, caught by your palm and used as lube, your hand not stopping its movements. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t hold it, please mommy—” he cries and his hips begin to move back and forth, thrusting into your palm.

“Lix…” you try to get his attention but he’s too lost in pleasure to really pay attention or answer you.

“Mmmmh fuck I’m cumming, fuckfuckfuck oh my god— fuck mommy, I’m cumming—” he whimpers openly, his voice breaking. His head is thrown back while his hips keep moving and you milk him dry. Ropes of cum spurt in your hand and shirt —the only thing you’re wearing—, and a little also finishes on your chin

Lewd moans leave his lips, and he would be embarrassed if he weren’t fucking coming after being denied for so long. Other people probably heard it, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

His body trembles as he comes down from his high.

You detach your hand and wipe it on the sheets.

“You can’t even follow a simple rule, can you?” you scold him. He tries to steady his breathing, but you don’t give him the chance. You climb onto his lap, and he looks at you with wet eyes.

"Do you think I’ll let you get away with it? You need to be punished for not following the rules."

When your words sink into his head, he looks at you with alarmed eyes, “Y-Y/n…”

Suddenly, you grasp his cock in your hand again, making him flinch and gasp from the overstimulation. You align him with your warm and wet entrance, then sink down on it, moaning as you’re finally filled. Felix groans in pain and grips your hips tightly, as if trying to keep you in place and not let you move.

“Now I’ll ride you, and you won’t move or let a word out of your mouth, understood?”.

[study-diaries]

How To Study Anything At 10x Speed

This is not a bs guide, these are some tips that have actually worked for me and they can work for you too. The thing is, it's fairly really easy. I have sometimes managed to prepare for a test before 15 mins by just reading through it. It's fascinating if you break it down.

Mindset Change

A mind set change is everything. If you think it is easy. The topic will be more bearable. If you think it's tough, it's going to be more tough. So, first thing is first. Be open. You are not dumb, you can easily understand everything if you just remove the concept of "It is too hard or boring"

I once heard that the subject isn't boring, you are bored. So, change your thought process. Start with, "I can handle this"

Break It Down

Not your chapter. I mean the topic itself. Line by line if you have to. I did this exact thing for accounts whenever i had to do ratios. It was a pain. An unwanted pain. I couldn't understand anything. But i sat down one day and read every single line of the textbook for that topic. I made what i call "Line Visuals". This is simple.

You read a paragraph => You don't understand anything.

Read every line => Draw it

Understand the key terms used there

And then draw a single visual representation for that entire topic.

I'll guarantee you, you will understand it. Review it once a day for a week and then once a week.

Story Method

People remember stories more than normal facts or random pieces of data. Stories allow you to link different facts together and make it easier for you to process.

The easiest way to do this is using "FTF" (First, Then, Finally).

First, the main character (you or anyone else you imagine) will start on a journey. That's scene one. You will need to associate some points to this scene. This will mostly include the overall concept. Basic understanding.

Then, the main character will face a problem. This will include all the major questions revolving around the topic.

Finally, the main character will find the answers. Let's break it down more.

What i love about this is that it can be used for sudden test/ pop quizzes because all you need to do is just remember the story.

If you want to read more about it, check out: How To Study Using The "Story Method"

Use Mnemonics

Learn with this. It helps you to remember easily. Make catchy phrases to remember points/facts. These are like the building blocks of studying anything. Stick small notes to your books writing the phrases beside the topic so the next time you want to revise it, it's easy.

Connect Similar Topic

Connect all your related subjects. Everything in school is somehow connected. I usually used to connect economics and business studies concepts. Sometimes even computers so... Connect them.

Active Recall

Active recall is like the number one tip i'd recommend. It's easy and most of you probably do it already. You just have to keep revising and testing yourself at the materials periodically. It's easy and effective.

Teach What You Learn

You learn the most when you teach. I had taken my friends for this. Study and teach it to them. This helps because you have to have a clear understanding of the material first rather to teach them and you may end up with some important feedback. Your friends might ask a specific question you didn't know the answer to and now all of you are trying to perfect yourself with the material.

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Additional Tips:

Tips for understanding complex topics

How To Self Study

Tips To Study Concept-Oriented Subjects

How To Study For Longer Hours

How To Study Multiple Subjects

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I hope it helps! :)

By the way, all of these tips are from my previous posts. But honestly this is what i do to actually study faster. It actually works for me and i hope it works for you too :)

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[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 4 (ona batlle x reader, alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

warnings: none!

---------

“Well, what’s the story of our friendship? Is there anything I should know about there? Any drama that happened, any secrets? Please, no more secrets,” you said with a wry smile. 

Alexia took a deep breath.

“We became friends pretty quickly, when you moved to Barcelona. You’re a very easy person to be friends with, an easy person to like,” Alexia said. “You spent a lot of time with me, and a lot of time with Ona. At the start, I… I was jealous, actually.”

“Of me?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe? Of Ona, of both of you, I think.”

“Why?”

She took a breath, picking at her nails. “Like I said, you’re a very easy person to like. You’re very pretty, you’re amazing on the pitch, you’re kind and funny.”

Her words hung in the air for a minute. 

“You liked me? As in, romantically?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Si,” she said, looking down at her hands. Her cheeks were pink.

“Your hair- it used to be pink, right?” you said suddenly, images of a pink ponytail flashing to mind.

“I- si, did you remember?” she asked, looking up at you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Um, do you still like me? Like that?”

Alexia shrugged noncommittally, not meeting your eye, then sighed. “Si - but nothing has to change. I do not want anything to change between us. We are very good friends, I would never want to lose that.”

“Okay, then. Nothing will change,” you agreed. “Although, I don’t really remember much about what it was like before, so for all I know this could be entirely different to how things used to be. It’s kind of weird, not really knowing what I’m like or what my life was like. Really weird, actually.”

Alexia, who had been quiet since her admission, brightened up. “I have an idea!” she said, sitting up straight. “What if I show you what your life was like before? I can take you to your favourite places, show you what you usually would do!”

“That sounds great!” 

“It will have to be after training,” she said, frowning. “Will you be okay during the day on your own?”

You waved her off. “I’ll manage. It’ll give me time to go through everything here, try to remember more.”

By the time Alexia left for the night (after repeatedly asking if you were sure that you’d be okay on your own, and if you needed anything to call her, or anyone else from the team), you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Despite how tired you were, getting into what was supposedly your own bed felt wrong, and you spent the night twisting and turning, unable to get comfortable.

Still, waking up and seeing something other than the hospital walls felt like a step in the right direction. You spent the morning going through everything you could find in your apartment that could give you clues about who you were. A journal from when you’d first moved to Barcelona (that you’d only managed to write three entries in before giving up) described your first days with the team, how nervous you’d been and how welcomed Alexia made you feel, and how you were so intimidated by Ona and how attractive she was but that she was so friendly to you, immediately putting you at ease. A paragraph about Alexia made you pause, the way you had written almost made it sound like you had a crush on her, the way you described her, raving about how good she was at football, how nice she was, how pretty. It was followed by another paragraph about Ona, and how amazing she was, and you rolled your eyes at your past self.

Reading about Ona felt weird, and you put the journal back, trying to push the thoughts of her out of your mind. Still, when you got hungry you were reminded of her once again, the fridge full of food that she had prepared for you. You pulled a covered bowl out to find a handwritten note on top, telling you what food was inside, with a smiley face and a heart. You told yourself that the funny feeling in your stomach was purely due to being hungry, nothing else, but you carefully left the note on the counter, not wanting to throw it away. 

By the time Alexia arrived you were starting to feel a little stir crazy, your leg making it hard to move around. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you told her as you opened the door.

“Hello to you, too,” she laughed. 

“Yes, hi. I miss going outside, and I’m all ready for our trip!” you told her, waving your crutches in the air.

“Woah, okay, I can see that!” she ducked as you waved your crutches a little too close to her head. “Okay, the first place we are going to go is a café nearby. It is your favourite. Usually you walk but I think we will drive.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, slumping a little. You’d been looking forward to moving a little, your body feeling tense from inactivity. “You’re too sensible.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she suppressed a smile. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the café. You took a deep breath as you hobbled inside, and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries filling your lungs. It instantly felt familiar, and you were drawn to a seat by the window. 

Alexia watched as you moved to sit down, smiling. “That’s your favourite spot. You always sit there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I like to watch the people going past.”

She raised an eyebrow, and you cocked your head, then realised what you’d said. “Huh. I don’t know where that came from, but it feels right.”

You watched Alexia as she ordered at the counter, thinking about what she’d told you last night. You weren’t sure how to feel - remembering her words made your stomach flutter, but you weren’t sure why. When she sat down, a drink for each of you and a pastry on a plate, you felt a sudden wave of emotion. 

“This is my favourite, right? This is what I always get,” you asked, and she nodded, smiling shyly. “You remembered?”

“Of course, chiqui,” she said. 

As you ate, you talked about football, which seemed like a safe topic. Your mind kept wandering though, thinking about the way that Alexia had known where to take you. She knew your favourite café, your usual order, she had known all the right things to say to you. You felt your cheeks warming up as you realised how much she cared about you, your old journal entry coming to mind, and you caught yourself wondering why nothing had ever happened between you.

“You seem distracted,” Alexia said, interrupting your stream of consciousness. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh, not much,” you quickly said. “Just about training, when I’ll be able to go back.”

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “I am not sure. Maybe you can ask the doctor on Friday?”

You nodded, your cheeks still pink. As you reached for your drink, your phone vibrated on the table. 

[Ona:] Please can we meet, and talk? Tomorrow?

[blunt-force-karma]

I think we, the people, should talk about Barry the Butcher more. For real, I think we should, both in the grand scheme of things of the narrative of Disco Elysium and just cus it'd be a bit funny to. Think about it, how many people even really KNOW who Barry the Butcher is, or who remember Barry the Butcher? Do you, human reading this possible unhinged post remember Barry the Butcher? Do you recognize this man? Hell, do you think he could even be real? Well, those are all valid questions, dear reader! For one, he's named, yes, but all we really know about him is that he's friends with the man on the water lock (said by the Man on the Water Lock so who knows if they really ARE friends from what we see but let's just assume they are), he's stuck on the other side of the water lock, wears overalls, and looks disappointed that the water lock is broken and about about his salami being eaten by his friend. We can also assume that yes, he is a butcher. His name is Barry. He can make salami. Very astute observations.

This is the only bit we got of him too. Again, no portrait, no looking into the window of his soul. No can-opening. Nope. Nothing. Nada. All this man does is wave and look sad. You know this guy's irrelevant to the plot when we get more information from corpses. And sure, maybe that's not fair to Barry. The main corpse is related to the case and the other is related to a side case you can chose to do that has it's own emotional core to it. Only in Disco Elysium.

You never see the Man on the Water Lock or Barry the Butcher ever again by the way. After you interact with the Man on the Water Lock and MAYBE go back to talk with him again, once you enter a building and come back, he's gone, alongside Barry the Butcher. Day 1 exclusive guy's too. I am pretty sure if you never interact with the Man on the Water Lock, you can just never see him in the game after Day 1. Hell, I would not be surprised if you were to go into the game and the minute you're done talking to the Man on the Water Lock, Barry just despawns. Barry the Butcher doesn't get mentioned ever again to my knowledge, neither his salami eating friend though that makes sense. We never get to learn more about Barry the Butcher or get a callback about him. Nothing! And that's just so fucking FUNNY to me. On a game level, Barry the Butcher is probably one of the rare characters we meet that has a name, has his name in the dialogue box AND never gets a portrait while also never having any speaking lines either or just more than one paragraph of text related to him. He is probably actively one of the most irrelevant characters in this game which is definitely an interesting achievement to have as a character specifically in Disco Elysium of all games. On a meta level too, it's just funny. Like, Barry the Butcher was made and he was put in the game and he was given a MODEL! He has a MODEL! Like, some characters WITH portraits have no models. Barry the Butcher is so fucking SPECIAL in his mediocrity and that needs to be acknowledged. He doesn't matter at all but is so fascinating in how little he matters and the unique circumstances of his existence. Then, on a story level, it's fascinating to me. In the grand scheme of it all, Barry the Butcher is just a guy. He really is. He's not relevant to the story cus he's not relevant to the case. So, we simply never hear from him again. He's not even relevant in terms of thoughts cus he's just not that impactful to either the player OR Harry. None of Harry's skills can even chime in and give commentary on what they see about this man either. Barry the Butcher isn't even like those few people you can interact with who have stuff to say but you can never TALK to them cus they're just talking to themselves. Plus, they never get named cus Harry just never thinks about them ever again. They don't impact him. Barry the Butcher to me is fascinating on the fact that he IS named though. That he's given a model and not a portrait and never speaks and who knows. Maybe he just doesn't speak. We don't know that as the player or as Harry. And we'll NEVER know simply cus we're not meant to. Our story does not collide with Barry the Butchers. It barely even grazes whatever life Barry has going on. And, I think that's just beautiful. It's beautiful that a game like Disco Elysium can fascinate me on the fact that a character like Barry the Butcher exists. This game is in a world where people can just have different lives going on and not everyone in the plot "matters" plot wise. Yet, the fact that they're here and exist makes the world feel more alive. And not even in that way of filling the area with character models which I mean, not that there isn't characters like that in DE. There are. There's a good chunk of people you just can't talk to in the Whirling-In-Rags. Barry the Butcher is just like, so crazy to me though. He's so close to just being like one of those characters who just exist to fill space but it doesn't feel that way cus we're in DE and cus he at least gets the opportunity to be named and shown on screen to any extent. So, what I'm saying here is that we, the people, should come together on this. We should come together and unite for Barry the Butcher. I dunno how and I have no clue if this dumbass post will have any impact. I just needed to let this all out. Do it for Barry the Butcher. DO IT FOR BARRY!

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 1!

happy new year, everyone!! we're kicking the year off with a slightly shorter rec list than usual - i've been spending a lot more time with family, and a lot less time reading - of lovely, lovely fics. enjoy!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i want for christmas... | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.4k | GA

“So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.” i am still thoroughly enjoying a few more holiday fics and this one was an absolute highlight this week!! so soft and lovely <3

'cause i took the long road to find you wanting me | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 6k | T

Buck can't bring himself to act normal around Eddie in the days after he reveals he's looking for houses in El Paso, he knows that Eddie leaving will be one of the most painful things he'll have to endure, but he refuses to tell him that he shouldn't go. After a few days, Eddie comes to Buck's loft unannounced to confront him about it, and everything becomes even more complicated. i LOVE this fic's characterisation of buck so very much <3 so good!!

every corner of this house is haunted | justhockey | 2.5k | GA

And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here. the excitment i feel whenever i see a new justhockey fic <3 i mean seriously, do you need to read more than those two little summary paragraphs to be convinced to read this gem of a fic? i don't think you do. click the link, you know you want to <3

honey came in and she caught me red-handed | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 9.3k | E

buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out. so hot so good so them <3 oh how i love buddie accidentally sending each other nudes, and this fic is right there among the very best of them!!

if only in my dreams | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 9.2k | GA

Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it. at this point a michelle rec list isn't a michelle rec list without a fic by songbvrd on it lol. what can i say, i know what i like, and this author happens to write a lot of it! i love buck going a little bit insane over eddie moving and his decorating and the buddie and just everything <3

pluto is not a planet. | gooondocks (happyhauntt)/@happyhauntt | 3.2k | GA

buck finds out that pluto isn't a planet anymore and takes it very personally. this fic is so so gorgeously written. the most beautiful character study introspection buck fic. genuinely just that good <3

with all the clouds around (it's never been clearer than now) | seachanged | 2.4k | T

It happens on a Saturday. Or, it starts on a Friday that turns into Saturday, the easy joy of the night tipping over into the pale, vulnerable light of the morning; dazzling in its inevitability.  the buddie dynamic here is so so good, a little teasing and a little flirty but mostly so very soft <3 lovely fic!!

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence. 

Your termination is effectively immediately. 

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered. 

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months. 

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it. 

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business. 

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember - 

They’re all at work. 

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go. 

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye. 

Onigiri Miya, it reads. 

Japanese comfort food. Family owned. 

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more. 

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then. 

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?” 

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service. 

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.” 

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is. 

At least the delivery is quick. 

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically. 

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya. 

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself. 

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!” 

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs. 

That the food is good is an understatement. 

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing. 

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next? 

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it. 

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep. 

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible. 

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch. 

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning. 

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong. 

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?” 

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?” 

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?” 

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.” 

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.” 

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?” 

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles. 

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.” 

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!” 

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain. 

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot. 

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby. 

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life. 

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders. 

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time. 

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat. 

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week. 

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate. 

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news. 

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.” 

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star. 

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you. 

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you. 

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way. 

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.” 

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen. 

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“ 

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately. 

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny. 

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass. 

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up. 

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them! 

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart. 

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you. 

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.” 

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri. 

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.” 

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.” 

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back. 

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?” 

He gives you a look. 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.” 

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” 

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you. 

“Is this…?” 

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.” 

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.” 

[fablesandfragments]

On Writing and the Never-Ending Need for Gratification

Ah, writing. The noble pursuit. The art of crafting worlds, breathing life into characters, and—let’s be real—craving validation like a plant thirsting for sunlight. If there’s one thing no one tells you when you start writing, it’s that half of the battle isn’t the words themselves but resisting the urge to scream, “LOOK AT ME, I MADE THIS. PLEASE TELL ME I’M GOOD.”

There’s this delicate balance between writing for yourself and quietly wondering why the universe hasn’t sent a parade of adoring readers to your door yet. You spend hours, days, weeks nurturing your story—pacing around your room, brainstorming at 3 a.m., possibly shedding a tear over a paragraph (or your third cup of coffee)—and then hit "publish" only to be greeted by... silence.

And suddenly, you’re asking the real questions: Was it too long? Too short? Too niche? Did my main character come off as too emotionally unavailable? Should I be more emotionally unavailable?

But here's the thing, my fellow writers—deep down, we know why we do it. We write because we’re storytellers, right? Because the worlds we imagine are so vivid that they can’t stay locked up in our heads. Because we genuinely have something to say, something that’s worth saying.

...But also, wouldn’t it be nice to get a few notes? Just a handful of little dopamine boosters. I’m not asking for much—just enough to remind me that someone, somewhere, is reading this and is vaguely impressed by my ability to string sentences together.

I mean, sure, "write for yourself," they say. But also, write for that sweet, sweet gratification that keeps you from spiraling into existential dread after pouring your heart and soul into a piece. Because if art isn’t appreciated by others, did it even happen?

(Okay, yes, it did—but you know what I mean!)

So, to all my fellow writers out there feeling like they’re screaming into the void: I see you. We see each other. You’re doing great. Your words matter. Even if the void is a little too quiet sometimes, remember—you’re still out here, putting pen to paper (or, more likely, fingers to keyboard), and that’s something worth celebrating.

But seriously, if you read this, just drop a like or something. It’s good for my creative process, I swear.

[rheas-chaos-anthology]

How to fight writer's block (45 ways)

If you are indecisive like me, use a 1-45 number generator and do that one

Listen to music that's the vibe of the scene you need to write.

Set small goals, like one sentence a day. Majority of the time that will make you want to write more

Get an accountability partner

Use writing sprints, write for 5 or 10 minutes without stopping. Then take a break and repeat.

STOP BEING SCARED TO WRITE BADLY

write something random, maybe just a paragraph to get in the flow

write while doing something else, like eating lunch or watching TV if you can focus

read a book you wouldn't normally read

do some physical activity

do writing games/writing prompts

imagine people making fanfiction about your work

watch a movie/show to inspire you

write the scene you've been wanting to write

do something else creative (doodle, paint, cook, etc)

edit a scene

rewrite a scene in a different setting

take a shower/bath or just wash your face

pick up a random book/remember a book you've read and "pick a fight" with the author. What did they do that you didn't like and why don't you?

listen to your favorite song (with lyrics) but imagine it in a different context. imagine it a scene from a show/a show.

make a list of things you want to include in your work, eventually you will come across an idea you will want to write.

use pen and paper

create a check list of things you have to do (make them small like open computer, open google docs, write one paragraph, etc.)

identify your strengths

identify your weaknesses

write from a different pov

remember why you started writing this project

remember why you started writing in general

dress up and pretend you are in a movie about a writer

reread your writing and find your favorite part

create a writing ritual, do two thing to get you in the mood of writing

take a break

write for one imaginary reader, what does that one reader want to see?

write some bad poetry (helps you "feel" your emotions)

use this game, you have to write an amount of words that you choose before the opponent knocks you out: Fighter's Block! (cerey.github.io)

write with a friend

write badly on purpose. And when i mean bad or cringe i mean commit. Write a dicord mod x discord kitten Wattpad fic (maybe dont post it though 😭). Just make yourself laugh

If you are stuck because you dont know what to do come up with something stupid that can be changed later (for this one scene the hero a has fourth leg that allows them to dig through the wall)

Figure out why you can't write and address that first.

imagine someone reading your story for the first time and it inspires them to do something they wouldn't have done otherwise (confess to their crush, start writing too, come out, etc)

GIVE YOURSELF DEADLINES AND STICK TO THEM

OR HAVE SOMEONE GIVE YOU DEADLINES

write about having writers block

write something that isn't yours (dont steal peoples work and try to publish it/pass it off as yours). Like a scene from a show or incorporate song lyrics into your scene.

create Pinterest boards based off your characters/plot/scenes

STOP BELEIVING IN WRITERS BLOCK AND WORK THOUGH IT. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE WHEN YOU DONT FEEL LIKE IT. WRITE WHEN YOU THINK YOUR TERRIBLE. WRITE WHEN YOU ARE UPSET. WRITE IT BADLY.

[jaywaslost]

Five Times Winnie Wanted to Confess, One Time Augustine Did

—

This has been in my docs done for ages I just never got around to posting it, written during a Cold Front obsession phase

Do excuse me if they're out of character or if I messed up any dates, I can't remember them all perfectly— Anyways, Enjoy!

--

Sypnosis: The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

Word count: 8.9k

The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

The date on his phone read February 14th, 20xx. He didn’t know why he was still awake, but something in him absolutely refused to get a wink of sleep, quite different to usual. On a normal day he was asleep by 11 maximum, with the exception of the first few days after moving away from his home (his mother was very concerned, he still remembers how she’d check on him during the night to see if he was sleeping or not. He’d pretend to the best of his ability until she left before he returned to wallowing in his sorrows again.).

Scrolling on his phone seemed to be the only form of entertainment at the time, if he got out of bed his parents would realize he was awake and he really didn’t feel like getting another lecture. He didn’t have any homework to busy himself with, nor did he really feel like looking for something else. Messaging Augustine had come to mind, but there was no doubt he was asleep at this time.

The other was stubborn, especially when it came to him staying up on weekends, but he never usually made it past 2. He would also sleep in until around 1PM every time he tried to be stubborn and stay awake longer and get scolded about it when he woke up, punished with doing extra chores. On those days he wouldn’t stop complaining about it, saying he was ‘a big boy now’ and that ‘it’s not fair others get to stay awake and get away with it!’. He couldn’t help finding his friend’s enraged expressions funny.

The blond didn’t end up saying anything so as not to wake him up, they could probably talk in the morning, anyway. With nothing better to do, he scrolled through anything he could find trying to distract himself or become tired enough to sleep and get the rest he needed.

When his eyes finally started to get heavier, he noticed a website that caught his attention. It was something posted merely moments ago, titled something along the lines of what to do on valentines day for your loved ones or whatever (he was too tired to process it properly). Out of curiosity, his fingers glided over the link to open it.

It was too late for him to process most of the words, but what stood out was the beginning of the article. It was nothing special, only the typical explanation of what the day is and why it's considered special, but his eyes lingered on a single phrase. ‘Valentine's day was a special occasion for everyone, the perfect day to confess to your crush, whether it's a friend, classmate, or even acquaintance who has lingered on your mind’ was the quote, the rest of the paragraph continued similarly.

His tired mind couldn’t help but wonder what could happen on this day, childish brain coming up with no more than the image of people like his parents, always together and in love, dedicated to each other to the point you could see it a mile away. He wondered what the day could mean for him, is there a special someone he should be thinking about? Is it normal this is the first time he really thinks about that? Is he gonna be the outcast again being alone in the morning while everyone else has someone by their side? Was he weird because he didn’t have his eyes set on a girl he wanted to…kiss? It shouldn’t be an issue he was twelve, but what if things in Saskatchewan were different or something, would they laugh at hi-

His thoughts came to a halt as the image of his one friend came to mind. Augustine didn’t have his eyes on any girls either, right? He would have known otherwise. They told each other everything, that wouldn’t be an exception!

..Did he know anything about this day? It was never acknowledged all that much in Quebec, was it the same here? Maybe he wasn't so weird after all? The thought calmed his nerves a little more than it should have.

Despite that, for some reason, the idea of being with his best friend during that day didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He felt his face rapidly heat up at the thought of holding his hand, it wouldn’t be the first time they did that they do so very often Augustine always liked to drag him places saying that it was easy and faster (which Winnie was offended by, he can walk fast too!) but for some reason that thought felt different, he didn’t know why.

If his reaction to finding out about the event was normal, this was definitely not. They’re friends, Auggie was his first and only friend after coming here. He didn’t pity him, he didn’t leave, he wanted to stay, he was why Winnie talked to other people at all even if to him they were enough on their own. Auggie was nice to him the way he wanted, he never left him out of things. The other boy was different, straight forward at best but Winnie liked that about him. He never lied about things (even if he did, he was so bad it was laughable), and he never laughed when Winnie’s emotions took the best of him. He supported him and it meant everything to the little boy.

Since they met, he visibly started feeling better. He finally came out of his shell and started crying less, eventually returning to his normal sleep schedule. Well, normal until today that was. But that's all they were, right? Nothing else, that's all they could be right? He wasn’t a girl, nor was the brunette, so that’s what they were.

..Their parents didn’t ever say anything about the way they acted, so it was okay right? Not much would change if they did do things together on that day. Would it be weird if he said he loved him in the morning?? That was the point of the day right? To celebrate love with people you like and enjoy the day together?

It would be okay if he tried to say something right? Nothing bad would happen, Auggie would probably be okay with it too. He didn’t want to be alone and he doubted the other did either, so it was good for them both right?

Winnie barely processed it when he yawned, just realizing how tired all that thinking had made him. Another look at the time told him over an hour had passed, 5:21 Am now instead of 4 when he last checked.

He had to rest so he knew what to say in the morning, otherwise he’ll mess up and forget later!

Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep 6 hours later than he would have typically wanted to.

It was 2 P.M when Winnie woke up, his head was pounding. His eyes hurt to open and he felt a lot more tired than usual, entirely disoriented.

The door creaked open as a woman with an appearance similar to the child peered her head in, perking up when she realized he was awake.

“Winnie?”

He really shouldn’t have stayed awake, his head hurt even more at hearing the words that he almost forgot to process his name being called. Mustering up the energy to fix his seating, he looked up at his mother to respond despite looking like an absolute wreck.

He was too out of it to really process what happened before he found himself near the lake with Augustine, the shorter kicking rocks into it paying little attention to him spacing out.

..Ah right, he was scolded for being awake for so long. Apparently his mother had realized he was awake when she went to take the laundry out of his room in the morning. His phone was warm, a clear sign he only got off of it recently. She ended up leaving after telling him to get ready for the day, that his best friend had been waiting for him for an hour by that point.

Hearing how long he left him standing, Winnie practically jumped out of bed already panicked as guilt overtook his senses. As soon as he was ready, he basically raced out the door to find his friend who was halfway up climbing a tree by the time he noticed him.

“Auggie!” he exclaimed while making his way over, whatever the other responded didn’t stick to his memory, too tired to really process how fast he typically spoke.

“-Winnie! Look at me already!”

The blond was snapped out of his trance by a flick to the forehead, blinking a few times before his eyes cooperated enough to notice how close his friend was to his face. He practically jumped back with a yelp, forgetting how he was sitting on the edge of the lake and falling into the water.

Augustine panicked and barely grabbed onto his hand, almost falling into the water himself. It’s not that Winnie was unable to swim, more that the water was cold if anything.

With some splashing, they eventually managed to pull him out, but he was absolutely soaked. Augustine couldn’t help but laugh at how wet he was, much to Winnie’s displeasure.

“DON’T LAUGH AT ME YOU’RE THE REASON I FELL AUGGIE” He huffed out, faking annoyance which only made his friend laugh harder.

It was.. Nice.

…until he began sneezing, that was.

The two ended up having to run to Winnie’s house as Augustine dragged him back by the hand once more, trying to warm him up as they went along.

The brunette ended up having to explain to their parents why Winnie was soaked when they were just meant to be playing as he dried himself off and changed, eventually making his way back to his room after Auggie had left to his own house again.

Their conversation can wait, he was too tired and it wasn’t the right time.

But that was okay.

They’ll always have time.

———————————————

The second time Winnie thought about love, he was 14.

2 years had passed since his valentines day dilemma, safe to say time (and procrastination) had eventually made him forget all about his plans.

As they got older, Auggie had hardly changed. They were still together as they were since he moved, only fresh in highschool! Best friends, like they said they were.

During the past few years, he was pressured to talk to more people and make new friends. At some point, he no longer found himself obsessing over finding out why they wanted to be around him. Eventually, the thought of being approached out of pity felt only like a distant memory or something he imagined happening, though it was far from that. If not for that fear, his mother wouldn’t have talked to Augustine’s about him, they wouldn’t have had their c̶h̶a̶o̶t̶i̶c̶ first meeting, never gotten the chance to be this close.

He may not admit or even say it all that often, but that is one thing he’s grateful for. If not for that, he’d have still been dealing with the emotional wreck of being the new kid, outcast like he always expected to be. But he didn’t need to be, it was proven to him in the best way it ever could have been.

He had come to know Augustine’s other friends, they even liked him. The first time he couldn’t make it to school and they still invited Winnie to sit with them the boy was overjoyed, almost to the point he forgot about his friend’s absence for a while. By the time the day was over, he couldn’t help feeling empty without the energetic presence rambling alongside him as they walked back home.

It was one day, so it didn’t matter that much in the long run right?

From that day on, he became more comfortable with them. He didn’t worry as much about being wanted there or not, becoming visibly more comfortable. It came to the point that it was so clear the brunette asked him about it straight up during the middle of one of their walks.

“Hey Win?” Augustine paused, nearly causing the boy behind him to run into him.

The blond caught himself the last second, stabilizing his stance enough to make sure he wouldn’t fall before speaking again.

“Mm yea Auggie? Why’d you stop walking? I was gonna fall on you!” He whined.

“You’ve been more willing to sit with people recently, did something happen while I was gone?”

His questioning look was met with a big smile, almost like Winnie was waiting to talk about it.

“Oh!! That? When you didn’t come a few days ago, your friends came up to me and asked me to sit with them even if you weren’t there, they were really nice and-”

As he continued to ramble, Augustine returned to walking. While the other followed soon after, his expression stayed the same as his ramble- which the brunette stopped listening to- didn’t cease. He felt weird about that, why did it feel weird hearing how happy Winnie was hanging out with his friends on their own? That was what he wanted, right? To get him more friends?

It was probably nothing, doubt it mattered much anyway. It was one time and a normal thing.

“You never told me why you didn't show up to school that day though, did something happen? Mom didn’t let me check on you because she said you probably didn’t want to be bothered at the time” Winnie inquired all of a sudden, catching the other’s attention and cutting off his line of thought.

“I was sick, couldn’t get out of bed and recovered over the weekend” he quickly responded, it was no lie but saying he wasn’t bummed out by not seeing his friend would be a lie. It would have probably made him feel less like a glorified pile of muck on the side of the road.

At least now he knows he wasn’t ditched, it wasn’t intentional or voluntary at least.

Winnie didn’t abandon him because of them.

Of course he wouldn’t! Why would he ever leave someone like him, anyway? He was Winnie’s first and closest friend, nobody else. Others getting to know him wouldn’t change that, if they would have then Winnie wouldn’t have put his all into proving he was cool enough they’d be friends.

Winnie didn’t really notice the look on his friend’s face, too focused on making sure they crossed the road properly. The traffic lights were green and cars were zooming past, yet Augustine’s pace didn’t slow or pause at all. Rushing forward a little faster, he pulled the other back by his collar.

Augustine yelped, not expecting a sudden pull cutting off his breathing for a moment. Winnie gave him a sheepish smile as he coughed trying to breathe properly again, muttering out an awkward apology.

“You were about to walk into the road silly, why did you get so distracted suddenly?” He didn’t say how he found it funny, knowing the other would throw a dramatic fit over that. It was slightly endearing, in a way.

He only realized he sas silently staring at the one before him for a few minutes too long until he felt tapping on his forehead.

“Earth to Winnie, you didn’t hear a word I said didn’t you?” Augustine grumbled.

Winnie couldn't help but laugh once again, his antics really were different.

“We can cross the road now, hurry up before it turns green again!”

It seemed like his dear friend was back to being himself after that mini-distraction, it felt more right this way. He was, once again, taken by the hand as Auggie ran across the road to get them past as fast as possible without the light switching colours on them again.

Winnie could swear he almost tripped 3 times during that small distance run. He should really focus more.

As he looked back to his best friend he couldn’t help but sit there in silence for a few minutes. He wasn’t saying anything this time, only staring off at something god knows where again. As he did so, Winnie couldn’t help thinking back to his thoughts that night two years ago.

Should he bring it up? They were even closer now, so it was even less possible Auggie would react badly (if he did at all!)He had the energy for the conversation this time, they were alone like they needed to be too!

If he didn’t say anything, he’d be too much of a coward to do so again later. 2 years passing since the time he originally planned to and ended up ditching proved that!

With a deep breath and little to no plan, Winnie decided to just get it over with as he could quite literally feel himself inching closer to a heart attack.

“Hey Auggie?”

Augustine turned to him, suddenly losing interest in whatever had his attention moments ago.

“What is i-”

“AUGUSTINE!’

A voice of someone they hadn’t anticipated caught both the young boys off guard. Winnie recognized her, a girl from their math class earlier that day. She was insistent on talking to his friend almost the entire class which threw him off but he said nothing nonetheless.

Augustine’s attention snapped to the call of his name instead, focus shifting.

Winnie didn’t hear the conversation that transpired next, busy trying to understand why the sudden interruption annoyed him the way it did.

It happened sometimes, that was normal. Augustine knew everyone, it's only natural they came up to him sometimes too no? He wasn’t the only one.

“Winnie I need to go for a bit, Donna just said there’s something I need to see quickly or something? You can continue without me I’ll tell you when I’m back” the boy rushed out as he was being pulled away off to the complete opposite road of the path they were going on.

Winnie found himself nodding involuntarily, hardly processing it when the words “I’ll see you when you’re back then” came out of his mouth.

They were oddly dry, not the way he usually talks.

Augustine wasn’t able to dwell on that much further as the girl, now known as Donna, dragged him off somewhere else leaving Winnie alone.

Another time, surely it’d work out by then right?

———————————————

The third time Winnie acknowledged love, he was 16.

Another two years had passed and, once again, he kept procrastinating and chickening out at the last second.

The one time he was finally about to say something, Augustine was dragged away and didn’t return until midnight. He was worried sick the entire day, what if something happened? He promised not to take long, why did he? Maybe he was dragged into something bad, maybe he got hurt and couldn’t come back yet what if he got kidnapped what if something worse happened he didn’t know what the’d do with himself if—

Their mothers were equally worried that day, apparently Augustine didn’t tell his parents he’d take longer because of whatever happened either. When he returned alone, Winnie was questioned about the others whereabouts and lacked a good answer, increasing their concern only for the boy in question to appear again a mere few hours later and get the scolding of his life.

He wasn’t hurt more than a few scratches here and there, some bruises sure but those were his own fault for not being careful as he should have been. Auggie never explained what happened that day, though. It’s not like he pressed for any further information but it was…weird.

Since then, he never brought it up again no matter how much the brunette pestered him to continue his sentence on that day, claiming he forgot or making up any excuse he could think of on the spot to avoid having that interaction when he was not yet prepared. He was procrastinating for so long it had to be perfect. That was the only thing that would make it feel worth the wait.

Winnie would tell him on the anniversary of their first meeting.

..was it excessive? To call it an anniversary, he doubted Auggie remembered the date as anything special but it meant the world to him at the time, and it does even as time passed. It was when he realized he didn’t have to feel so alone anymore, the day someone in this province finally made him feel wanted and welcome.

Because of him, he got closer to more people. The friends Augustine introduced him to, the ones who invited him to hang out with them alone, others around the school, they all wanted to know him for him now. He was the reason they started liking Winnie, the reason he has any other friends at all.

Of course, Augustine would forever stay his favourite and dearest one, but that didn’t mean others didn’t become valued too. Winnie had never been happier, people waving to him as he passed by, stopping to talk to him from time to time, it made him feel warm inside again.

He didn’t miss the glances he got, but it never felt like much of a concern.

At least, not for a while.

Or not yet.

What he had noticed was how Augustine had changed over the years, how he reacted whenever the blond introduced him to a new friend he’d make. How he tended to not respond the way he used to when they were talking about interests they had, especially Hockey.

Winnie knew his friend always loved that game. He was the best player their school had for years, close to all other members of the team and always telling him about it. H̶e̶ t̶r̶i̶e̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ h̶o̶w̶ c̶o̶n̶v̶e̶n̶i̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ t̶a̶l̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶ l̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ u̶p̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶e̶a̶m̶ a̶l̶o̶n̶g̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ b̶o̶y̶.

H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶t̶a̶n̶t̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ r̶i̶n̶k̶, w̶h̶e̶n̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶'s̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶e̶d̶ c̶o̶l̶d̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ h̶a̶d̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶.

W̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶.

N̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶n̶ i̶s̶s̶u̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶, r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶ I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ b̶a̶d̶ d̶a̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶w̶a̶y̶, t̶h̶i̶s̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶ w̶a̶s̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶r̶e̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ k̶i̶n̶d̶l̶y̶ b̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶.

They were still friends, accompanying each other to every class and doing things together as always. It was a good thing how they haven’t changed in that regard, people always came to associate them with the other.

Overtime, it became apparent that wherever Augustine is, Winnie was not far away and vice versa. They used to joke about it at first until it became frequent enough the joke itself got boring. Now, it’s nothing special.

Sure, they walked with other people and hung out with others sometimes. a̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶, A̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ m̶u̶s̶t̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶o̶ n̶o̶?̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ p̶l̶e̶n̶t̶y̶ o̶f̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ a̶s̶ f̶a̶r̶ a̶s̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶. But it never damaged their bond.

Winnie was planning this day for the past 4 months at this point, it almost felt funny how repetitive this routine felt by the third time. “The day he would stop being a coward, would say it to his friend’s face and wait for the response he yearns for” or whatever he always thought about, cheesy in a way but it wasn’t like he could exactly help that.

They were only walking through the halls during their lunch period when they passed by Winnie’s locker. A normal thing if not for the fact 3 people were crowded around it, whispering to themselves.

The duo didn’t pay it much time at first, preferring to continue their debate on the newest pointless subject they thought of: if oranges came first or if it was the colour. Augustine insisted the fruit did, whereas Winnie was prepared to die on the hill saying it was the other way around.

The group of 3 in front of the locker were not people the two were particularly friends with, Winnie recognized one as someone who sits next to him in.. biology? At least that's what he remembered. Augustine shrugged at the question of their names, saying it didn’t come up enough for him to remember them much, adding on how they weren’t particularly interesting enough for him to care beyond acquainting with anyway.

It wasn’t something Winnie needed to put much thought into either, trusting his friend’s judgement.

All that really mattered now was convincing Auggie to follow him to the rooftop where he could finally say what he wanted to in complete privacy, but until then he had to keep his cool and continue their seemingly endless bickering.

They were forced to snap out of their conversation when one of the boys pushed someone towards them, turning to see what the issue was. The girl pushed towards them by her friends lost her balance, but Winnie quickly caught her fall before any actual damage could be caused, at which her face turned red.

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ s̶w̶e̶a̶r̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ g̶l̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ h̶e̶r̶.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, looking between the three in obvious confusion.

The girl just nodded, fiddling with her hands seemingly unable to form a proper response. As he turned away to leave after telling them to be more careful, his arm was grabbed by her as a seemingly impulse decision she regretted almost immediately after.

W̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ s̶e̶t̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶l̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶f̶ a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶, h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ h̶a̶d̶ 1̶5̶ m̶i̶n̶u̶t̶e̶s̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶!̶

Before he could breathe, she finally spoke up.

“Can I- talk to you for a few minutes?”

Winnie looked back at his friend, seemingly at a loss. He didn’t want to stay, he planned so long for this but she didn’t have plans of letting him go yet and-

The look on Augustine’s face was cold as it was on those days in the rink, his expression changing to one Winnie couldn’t read in mere seconds after they were talking normally only moments ago.

At least that's what he thought, it’s what that looked like anyway.

“You can go, it’s fine” the brunette said, though Winnie knew better than to believe his tone was one of someone who really didn’t care what he did. He knew better than that, Augustine was annoyed, but what for?

It seemed like the girl took that as an invitation to drag him away, almost tripping Winnie in the meantime. Her friends cheered her on as Augustine only turned around and walked in the opposite direction instead of waiting for him to return after or interrupting her for dragging him off like that.

Whatever side of the school she was taking him to he didn’t quite notice, only realizing how far they’d gone when she shoved a letter into his hands and refused to look at him. Winnie could easily guess the implications of that, seeing the heart sticker on the front of it.

It was about to be a long conversation, one he didn’t want to be a part of.

Why was it so difficult for things to work out when he wanted to come clean?

Maybe another time, surely.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when they grew apart.

Their separation started slow, over the course of a few years.

It wasn’t entirely like that of course!- they were talking less is all, not really separate. They still hung out at school sometimes like they used to and sat together in one or two classes, W̶i̶n̶n̶i̶e̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ d̶r̶a̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ o̶f̶t̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ n̶o̶t̶, A̶u̶g̶g̶i̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶o̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ o̶f̶ a̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶

They walked together after on their home, but Auggie never looked at him if he could help it. When he did, something felt wrong. Instead of the warm looks he always received when they were kids, it was like looking at a stranger.

Any conversations they had were started by him and died out quite quickly, the other giving the bare minimum of a response if not just nodding and moving along. The blond never figured out how to get him to talk like they used to again, nor the reason for the sudden change.

Something he noticed more and more as he approached his friend was the way the other would scoff, as if annoyed by his mere presence. Winnie remembers staying awake night after night thinking and trying to understand what happened, where he went wrong, what he did to make things this way.

He looked through every conversation he could find, recounting every single one he could remember trying to find what about him led his friend to being unhappy about his presence after so long.

Could it be that Augustine had grown tired of him?

Winnie shook his head- he was too tired to be thinking of this at the moment. They would be heading back home in a bit, it was 3:00 anyway, a few minutes left before the bell rings.

He would approach Auggie and have a proper conversation again if it was the last thing he did!

…He didn’t realize how hard that would be until he was already looking for the other, trying to make up any topic so they wouldn’t walk in silence again, and fate didn’t seem to be on his side as he found the person he was in search of before conjuring anything up.

Despite the cold air between them, Augustine still waited for him at the gate so they could walk back together. It made Winnie feel more at ease, knowing he at least didn’t mess up badly enough to get ditched entirely.

He didn’t respond to anyone calling him as he speed-walked over to the brunette, not wanting to make him wait longer than he already did. Heavens know the last thing Winnie wanted now was to have Augustine ditch him because he took too long.

As soon as he arrived, the brunette turned around and started walking down the path that's been imprinted into their memory over the years. It was always a routine of theirs to walk back together, the company was nice. The few times they were separated by something happening always ended up in an apology or hangout later that day to make up for the time.

Winnie both loved and hated how this walk started to feel overtime. The silence wasn’t comfortable as it used to be, his friend didn't look like he planned to break it either. As expected, the job fell on his shoulders.

The further they went, the worse it got. The familiarity of the path at least allowed him to space out and think more about what to do to make things less awkward.

It seemed as if his brain had other plans, by the way it didn’t cooperate. Whatever, they knew each other for years. The last few conversations couldn’t keep repeating, they’d never improve again if neither of them spoke up.

“Hey Auggie?” He began, with little clue as to where he planned to go with the conversation.

For the first time that day, Augustine looked up at him. “Yea?”

“I heard you had a test today, how did it go? Math right?” Winnie did not in fact hear of a math test, let alone one at all. A friend of his mentioned stressing over one the week prior and he just asked that based on someone else who probably wasn’t even in the same cla-

“Another calculus one, yes. Absurdly soon seeing when the last one was” he responded, looking back to the street instead of the one next to him.

That was something Winnie could work with, a start somewhere.

“How did it go? You were always complaining about that subject then finishing all the work before I even got halfway through the page, it was impressive”

There was a shift in Augustine’s expression, small, but noticeable. It was a good confirmation he was doing alright so far, which was all he needed.

The shorter just shrugged at the question. It was how he always reacted to those sorts of inquiries, Winnie couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

H̶e̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶f̶f̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶o̶u̶n̶d̶.

“How'd you know there was a test to benign with? We’re in different math classes” Augustine may have been staring at the road still, but he was less focused on their path more at kicking the rocks he found on the way. A classic thing he did, trying to get them to go as far as possible.

When they were younger they used to try and see who could do it better, but Winnie eventually grew out of it. Of the many things that changed about Augustine, that habit was not one.

“A friend was complaining about it the last time we talked, I assumed you might have the same teacher and I was right!” He answered. What to him seemed like a simple answer made Augustine pause. Pause for a lot longer than he should have as his expression shifted again.

..Winnie didn’t think he said anything wrong, did he?

Augustine didn’t respond, opting to go back to walking faster than before rather than say a word.

They would be silent again if he didn’t continue, it was going well for once his friend responded with proper sentences again instead of gestures or small sentences.

“I’m sure you did great, Auggie!” He saw the other smile and roll his eyes at those words, s̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶l̶y̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶d̶?̶.

The direction he was going in seemed to be exactly what was needed, so Winnie went on. “Did you go to hockey practice last Friday? I had to miss it to help my parents with stuff after school but I couldn’t stop thinking about that”

Augustine scoffed and Winnie hesitated to say anything else as a strange feeling set in.

“I went, everyone kept asking about you though”

“That’s so nice of them, I didn’t-” He was cut off by the feeling of his wrist being grabbed roughly.

“What was that?”

Winnie blinked awkwardly, just noticing the expression on the other’s face.

“I just..said that it was nice?” Augustine held onto his wrist tighter at that.

“Don’t play dumb, repeat what you said again I dare you.”

He was angry.

Despite everything, Winnie had never seen the other angry with him. He saw him annoyed, yelling at others from time to time, but never him. Especially not while grabbing his arm like it had offended him somehow.

“I didn’t say anythi-”

“You think I’m stupid don’t you? I heard you, coward.” The brunette let go of him and Winnie held the now slightly reddened wrist as his confusion only grew.

“Of course you didn’t. Whatever, I’ll see you later.”

Before Winnie could respond or reach out to stop him, the other stormed off in the opposite direction on his own but not without sending him a glare before he left.

He messed up again.

The problem was he didn’t know what he said.

Did he not like hockey anymore? Was that topic a bad idea?

For the first time, Winnie felt like their end was near.

He didn't know how long he stood in place before his legs finally started moving again, what he did know was the chances of fixing their friendship were lower than they were previously at the start of the day. The Augustine he knew and the one he was faced with felt like different people now.

It was like there was a stranger in his skin.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when he wished he never thought about love at all.

A long time had passed since his last conversation with Augustine, and it was now the summer.

Their relationship only got worse after the conversation on their walk back to their houses, always off when the other one is present.

If anyone asked Winnie if he expected this only a few years prior, he would be beyond confused. The boy couldn’t have predicted a fallout as bad as this one.

He was going to move soon, they didn’t need to deal with this much longer.

That was what he thought, at least. When it came to the day right before they moved, their parents made them hang out together again. Instead of what they may have typically done a while back, they opted to go on one last car ride together to talk one last time.

It wasn’t like the fact they grew apart this badly wasn’t his fault. He’s the one who stopped talking despite Augustine’s attempts.

He’s the one who never responded after…

H̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ a̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ c̶l̶a̶s̶s̶e̶s̶, c̶l̶u̶b̶s̶, a̶n̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶y̶p̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ t̶o̶g̶e̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. H̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶a̶i̶d̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

That was what he thought, at least. When it came to the day right before they moved, their parents made them hang out together again. Instead of what they may have typically done a while back, they opted to go on one last car ride together to talk one last time.

Winnie was beyond nervous, but to say he wasn’t excited was a lie. As much as he may have avoided acknowledging it, he missed the other dearly. D̶e̶s̶p̶i̶t̶e̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶, h̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ l̶o̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ i̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶.

He grabbed the nearest pair of glasses and rushed out the door.

A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ u̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ j̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶k̶e̶ f̶u̶n̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶s̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.

He found the other waiting for him outside, avoiding eye contact which Winnie didn’t blame him for. They got into the car in silence, the drive continued that way for a while.

Winnie didn’t know what to do, so he pretended nothing happened. He was too focused on making sure his legs don’t go numb while he’s driving, the last thing they needed was a car accident.

As if life was trying to make things hard for him intentionally, that's exactly what they found themselves set up for.

Stranded in a frozen car, suddenly in the middle of winter, dealing with situations beyond their comprehension after a fight in the car.

First staring at the frozen corpses of their child selves, being chased by an..elk-bear monstrosity, falling into what looked like an endless hole, the list went on..

Augustine was searching for a way to leave the entire time, to figure out what happened, but Winnie was unable to get himself to move or put in the same effort.

They were currently in his house, or what looked to be it, and Augustine was searching the rooms. He was sitting on the piles of boxes trying to think of something to help, trying not to freeze to his death.

His gaze lingered on the stairs as memories played out in his mind.

The day he fell down the stairs and broke his legs, the way Augustine left.

When he tripped and was found by someone else, when he waited for Augustine’s return before he passed out for it to never come.

When he truly started questioning the very core of their relationship.

He was not.. Angry. He was confused.

Months later, he still didn’t have an answer as to why. He didn’t know what they were anymore, and it hurt.

It hurt worse than anything, but he didn't blame the other. Augustine didn’t act without reason, he wasn’t the irrational type.

The phrase Augustine said moments before was looping endlessly in his head.

Before he fell- before Winnie LET him fall.

Begging him to hold onto his hands properly and pull him up.

“Please don’t let go. I’m your friend. We’re friends.”

The silence that followed will haunt him.

“We are friends, right?”

The same question he asked himself for months.

He was dragged out of his trance hearing mumbling behind him. Augustine was standing there, a dark look in his eyes.

Darker than Winnie had ever seen from him.

He was..worried.

“Auggie?”

The mumbling continued.

“Augustine? Hello?”

No response.

It took a while for the other to respond, he seemed just as confused as he was.

His chest felt heavy as they both stood there, while he could blame it on paranoia caused by the situation as they are both standing on top of a staircase reminding him of the fall, it wasn’t that.

They needed to talk.

They couldn’t go on like this, one of them needed to do something to break their silence.

Augustine tried and was either met with nothing before or what had happened when they were in the car, it was only right that he began.

“..We can’t go on like this.” He began.

Augustine’s eyes shot up to meet his and Winnie’s, and for the first time in a while he felt familiar.

He continued talking, only pausing to take a breath knowing if he stopped he would freeze up. For the first time in years, he saw himself getting through to his friend.

When he finished, he saw the way Augustine’s lips quivered, the way he shook slightly, he looked the most fragile he ever has. Like a single gust of wind could break him apart. Winnie hated seeing the one he looked up to and loved so dearly look that way, knowing he was part of the reason only made him hate it more.

The dams broke as Augustine’s words spilled out, years of struggle being put before his very eyes.

His chest felt tight, he never thought actions he never thought much of hurt the other this badly, yet here he was listening to it all.

Responding was something he didn’t feel himself do, more truthful than he ever was.

Pouring their hearts out in his house while it was snowing indoors was never something either of them expected to do, but here they were.

“There’s nothing in this world that can replace you.”

“I’m sorry…! I’m really sorry…!”

“I should’ve respected your line…!”

“I should’ve thought about how you’d feel, I should’ve put myself in your shoes…!”

“But I was too blinded by admiration back then that-”

“I couldn’t see that you were my one and only friend before my hero!”

“It must’ve been so frustrating… It must’ve been so upsetting…!”

“You don’t have to forgive me, I know apologizing now won’t change the past…”

“But I just want you to know this…!”

Winnie could hardly process a single word coming out of his mouth, Augustine stood in front of him with his mouth agape taking in everything.

He took that as an invitation to continue.

“You are the coolest and brightest person I have ever met in my whole life, Augustine!”

“I was only able to do all the things I’ve accomplished so far because you encouraged me back then…!”

“Because you gave me hope. You work hundreds, thousands, million times harder than me… And I remind myself every day how lucky I am to have ever met a friend like you…!”

“...-You’re amazing like that!-..”

Winnie’s heart ached at every tear that dropped, the other tried to stop but he couldn’t. They momentarily panicked when he couldn’t breathe through the tears, but it was only expected after such a long time of bottling everything up.

Everything felt worth it again when he saw his smile.

The one he knew, the smile that drew him in from the start.

This was the Augustine he knew.

They had to get back to reality, if his theory was correct then he knew how to do so.

They just needed to hurry up before their time runs out, Winnie believed in them, they could do it together.

He finally felt complete again, the hole in his heart filled simply by a single conversation.

Maybe he didn’t regret thinking about love all these years, all he needed was a reminder.

A reminder was exactly what he got, and he could not be more grateful for it.

For the first time in years, they were truly friends.

They were not alone.

———————————————

It had been around 3 months since the car accident.

Since the two were trapped in an upside down car, experiencing a world made up of their own horrors.

Since they finally, truly became the friends they always thought they were.

The speech they had, the chance to finally bond again and come clean about everything, took so much more weight off of Augustine's shoulders than he could have ever imagined it would. Sure, the cost was a broken leg, but it also meant that Winnie got to stay longer too.

Augustine could never describe how it felt looking at his friend again, finally seeing a friend rather than a competitor. Someone to relax around again rather than someone he was inferior to. Winnie did all he did to be like him of all people and all he saw were false attempts to tear him down and take his place.

Part of him can’t imagine that anymore, the same part that yearned to talk to Winnie again since the accident the winter before that. The same part that kept him up at night about not helping, not doing something, anything to help him when he fell down those stairs and broke his legs.

He had one broken leg and support yet he was still struggling, still healing from the consequences of it. It had made for a fun joke though, making Winnie bring or do stuff for him because as the driver it was easy to blame him for the crash and therefore the break. At first Winnie looked incredibly guilty when it was brought up, going silent before apologizing so unlike himself. It took a few weeks to get him to see it as the joke it was, but when that worked he never got to live it down.

It wasn’t like he seemed to mind though, frequently asking Augustine if he wanted anything else after he brought up the idea of feeling like having something of any sort and getting up on his own, even if it was merely a passing thought or mood.

It was…nice.

What was not nice on the other hand was the days itching closer to the new moving date.

Augustine finally healed, which meant Winnie would be moving soon.

He would leave to go to the college they both wanted. Oddly, instead of sparking feelings of anger or envy this time, he felt more melancholic about the thought.

As the day came closer and closer, a sense of emptiness overtook him. Winnie was the same, they hung together a lot more than they have in the last few years as a whole, but the departure always felt wrong.

Despite their talk, they both knew there were still words unsaid between them. Neither of them had the guts to come clean about them, but they both knew something was still missing.

Augustine’s realization came when he felt funny after hanging out with Winnie for a while. The taller had gotten tired after their outing, falling asleep on him at some point during their conversation. He didn’t notice at first, too distracted going on about some topic that came up. He was a man of strong opinions, and those opinions he was gonna tell.

He only noticed when the sound of soft snoring reached his ears. The blond was fully leaned up against him, sound asleep.

This was..the most relaxed Augustine saw him in some time. It had been a long time since they were in a position like that, he never counted, though.

He couldn’t help but stare, a̶d̶m̶i̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ looking at the other. He had changed over the years (obviously), both mentally and physically as expected. He was a lot taller now, as opposed to the little height difference they had as children. Despite that and his generally bigger build, he still carried that gentle air around him, something he welcomed, really. A threatening Winnie didn’t sound very entertaining, he’d know by now.

Only after Winnie left did he realize how much..lighter? He had felt it. Something was different, but not in the same way as before. It was good, or at least so he thought. It didn’t feel suffocating or unfamiliar.

…He had fallen again, hadn’t he?

Augustine tried to push that thought away for days, as the thought of it made his brain hurt too much to think about it. He couldn’t be bothered and quite frankly preferred to ignore the existence of those feelings as a whole! And so that's what he did.

Winnie would move soon, the feelings would fade, they’d go back to just being best friends and he’d NEEEVER have to think about it again!

..or that's what he’d hoped, and oh how wrong he was.

The days passed fast. Faster than they should have, both of them hated it but time wouldn’t slow down for them. Afterall, it’s their own fault they didn’t speak for a long time, they lost their spark and almost burned down their friendship entirely out of their own stupidity.

That's why it didn’t feel real when they had to say goodbye. They may have nearly split apart, but they were always near. Winnie never felt as comfortable as he did with Augustine around anyone else, and Augustine never felt complete without him there.

It made his stomach churn.

“Don’t you dare end up falling down another set of stairs in that college will you? I can’t help you there to pay this back” The brunette half heartedly complained, visibly struggling to come up with anything to say.

“I won’t, I won't! You don’t set things on fire in exchange, deal?” Winnie giggled.

“That was ONE time-”

“One too many!~”

The sound of a car horn cut Augustine off before he could throw a witty response back at his companion, Winnie’s parents telling them to hurry up before they were late.

Whatever happy mood they were in dissipated as fast as it originally came along, both of them going silent.

“..You’ll come back eventually, right?” Augustine asked in a voice far quieter, smaller, than Winnie ever wanted to hear from him. It wasn’t right.

“Of course I will!” he shot back almost immediately, almost offended the other thought that at all. Really who did he take him for?

“Good, who else would praise elks for existing the same way you do every christmas?” Going back to the previous atmosphere and feel of their conversation felt better than keeping the heavy feeling their goodbye gave. At least one last bit of entertainment for them.

Though it couldn’t last long, Winnie’s parents were clearly getting impatient to the point both boys saw it without sparing them more than a simple glance.

“They’re still better than your bears, but we might need to continue this conversation another time, being late is hardly ideal for moving again, you know?” Although it was meant to be a joke, Winnie’s tone failed to convey that, sounding more down than anything.

“Stay safe on the car ride then you idiot”

“That's hardly up to me,but I can try?”

“Good, I’ll never let it go in the afterlife if you don’t” The eyeroll Augustine did could be felt, without even looking at him.

“I get it I get it, goodbye for now then? I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise you” Tone changing from his usual up-beat one, Winnie gave his friend the last hug they would have for a long time.

Augustine didn’t hesitate to return the hug, hardly keeping himself together at all.

“I guess so”

“Do you not even want to say anything to me anymore? Im hurt</3”

Augustine sighed, his mind felt like too much of a wreck to process the events that followed.

They both had to separate as Winnie walked to his parents’ car, whatever washed over Agustine really decided to do so at the worst time possible because not even a moment after the other had turned around, he found himself blurting out the one sentence he was trying to avoid and forget about for months.

‘I love you’

Every part of him that hoped Winnie didn’t hear him was let down as he paused and turned to look at the brunette, who was processing the fact those words came out of his lips at all.

Opposed to what he was expecting, the one in blue smiled at him with a smile more genuine than he has ever seen from him.

“That will be something else we talk about when I come back” he said, voice maintaining the calm feel it carried with it earlier in the conversation.

“I- uhm- oka. Yes, it will be” Augustine stuttered, trying to gather his nerves and thoughts as fast as possible. What was that??

“For the record, I love you too”

With that, he turned and ran to the car, not hearing whatever the other said after him. Whatever he yelled out was a topic they were to tackle later.

Finally, after 6 years of pining, Winnie no longer felt strange.

His love was requited.