#god. the worst sem ever

[stemacademics]

oh please god let me pass this math methods course at least in morally grey if not flying colors

[nifftydeary]

Protective lover

You had recently started a relationship with your teacher Satoru gojo. he was one of the strongest mage ever created and living on Earth. Yet for you Satoru was a simple human being that might be stronger than most but still you apparently managed to fall in love with him. It wasn't right since you were one of his exorcism student but honestly it's not because you actually didn't try to contain your feeling. They were just too strong, after all what wasn't it to love about this man. He simply is perfect, grayish white hair, deep icy blue eyes, perfect feature. A god amongst human. He could have every women he likes. Yet you are the one he love and you still couldn't believe your luck. You couldn't be happier really, that even if your lover was now quite restrictive of your actions.

In reality, Satoru was terribly protective of you. The mage in question was absolutely terrified to send you in one of the mission given by the school. What if you get hurt or worst what if you die, he couldn't risk it. His love for you was too strong and now that you were dating it was harder for him to imagine you even close to danger.

Satoru trusted you of course he did but that wasn't the question or neither the point. The issues was laying simply on his mind. It was just absolutely out of the question for you to get injured during a quest. Plagues were dangerous creature that only wanted to devours humans and kill them. The white hair sorcerer couldn't take the risk of you facing one that was too strong for you. Therefore, Satoru simply refused to send you in any mission with the other student of your years.

It was outraging for you, you were an Exorcist just like he was after all why couldn't he accept to treat you like the others. You understood that he loved you and that he only cared for your safety. Nonetheless you couldn't help but be terribly mad and offended by his action.

After all how could you actually improve if you weren't allowed to go in quest and face plagues. It was absolutely ridiculous especially from a teacher.

That's why you finally had enough of it one day when Saturo came announcing that their was an emergency to attend to. And that of course he absolutely forbid you to go with the other student to face the Class S plague treatening innocent humans. You stood your ground this time, you were ready to go to incredible leinght to made him change his mind. You weren't going to let you friends alone to face this one.

I'm going too. You said with a serious expression on and your eyes showing defiance toward Saturo.

It was a first, never since you actually started dating have you ever dared to go against his order. He stayed your sensei after all and you had to listen to him normally. Yet, this time things had gotten out of proportion and it was absolution ridiculous of him to act like this with you. You weren't a porcelain doll. By his reaction, Gojo was more than surprise by your words and the way you looked at him. He certainly didn't expected that from you and his blue icy eyes harden suddenly.

The only sight of it made your blood freeze in your veins. He had never looked at you like this before, you weren't sure how you felt about it. It was making you sad but it was igniting a fire within you that seemed to be caused by how much you wanted to go with the other. You wanted him to see you like a worthy Exorcist and for that you had to hold your side of the rope. Even if it really didn't semmed to please him at all.

No you won't. Was the only thing that Saturo said as he crossed his arms on his chest with an authoritative expression. It was really weird to see him serious for inece. You felt trapped. You could feel Negomi, Yuji and nobara looking at the both of you with surprise and interest. All of your classmates already knew about your relationship with satoru of course. Yet you couldn't help but feel a bit shy right now having a serious conversation in front of them like if they were in there. This conversation was feeling more personal suddenly, more like two lovers having a fight than a teacher and a student. That wasn't at all what you intended. You should have expected it to be like this obviously, after all you knew that the only reason Saturo kept you at the school and was forbidding you to accompany your classmate to fight was because you were his girlfriend and that he wanted to protect you. It was obvious that it was going to turn personal yet you still were surprise. Anyhow you tried to keep your composure in front of your colleague and Friends while keeping hold of your eyes contact with Saturo. God why wasn't he wearing his sunglasses today, it would have been so much more easier to look at him with them. His eyes always have been a weakness for you and today you felt like a ton of brick just hit you right in the face. He was so terribly sexy and you felt so weak as he looked at you with seriousness and maybe anger within this facade of self restraint he always had on. You were slowly starting to regret your decision to contradict him on this one. It really wasn't fair honestly how could you actually be mad at him when he looked so perfect like this. The only thing that you wanted was to have your chance with the plagues. What if you get hurt, you can be healed right it wasn't the end of the world. It was infuriating to be told what to do and the only thought of it right now was enough to boost your motivation yet again.

With that in mind you slowly got closer to where saturo stood and stopped a meter apart from him. Your eyes were still looking in his and without you noticing your cheek had become red because of the mixed feeling that you felt right now. You wanted to take his hand, to hug him or even kiss him right now to plead him with everything that he had to reconsider his decision. The only thing that was stopping you was the prying eyes of your friends just behind the both of you. Instead of doing so the only thing that you managed to say was his name followed by a pleading.

Gojo...please I wanna go. 

After saying that your eyes lowered and looked at your own hands in front of you. You were wishing so much that he'd say yes. That even if you had a lot of doubt about it. However, instead of receiving an answer like you expected you felt strong arms taking hold of your body and bringing you upward on his shoulder. Gojo had taken you up and was now carrying you out of the class, leaving behind your tree friend absolutely dumbfounded. On your side you were a bit taken aback but pissed and tried to struggle off him with not avail sadly. He could be such an asshole.

Saturo!!! put me down what the hell are you doing?! You said a bit stronger that you intended.

You received nothing from him after that, he just kept walking to finally arrive to his office. In there, Gojo finally put you down and he went to sat on his desk facing you with a look you couldn't quite pinpoint. It looked like a mix of anger and undeniable unsatisfaction. It was really unusual to see him like that and you didn't liked it. You were quite fond of his smile and his bubbly self and now that you had the opportunity to see him being serious for once. You felt little and uncertain of yourself. What if he was mad at you and was going to snap and yell. Not that you were worried he would ever hurt you but he was a really strong being...

As you kept thinking about those invasive thoughts, you didn't realised you started shaking a bit. The both of you were at a maximum of 3 meters from each other but you could feel the magic radiating in the room like an eavy blanket covering you all.

You wanted to speak but you didn't semmed to be able to and the same goes for looking at him. What was happening to you...?

On his side, Gojo couldn't help but look at you no matter how he felt right now. The love he had for you was preventing him from being even a tiny bit mad at you. He might look pissed or angry right now but he wasn't. Maybe it was only the surprise and the worry within him that was causing this reaction and this hard facade to cover his feature.

The reason he had decided to pick you up and got the both of you into his office was purely personal. He had no intention continuing this conversation in front of the whole class, after all it wasn't their business at all. It was only between you and him. Beside in front of others satoru couldn't really express his feeling toward you. Now that you were alone however, he could and wanted to. The only problem was the realisation of your state when he layed his eyes on your body. Even from that distance he could see you were trembling and his eyes went wide. Was he scaring you?... Panic started to appear within him and his feature softened suddenly. The last thing that he wanted was to scare you, satoru would never hurt you. Never. Seeing you in that state of fear made him feel terrible and in a reflex motion he had stood up from where he sat and walk to where you stood slowly not to scare you even more. When he did reach you, Gojo was hesitant to touch you, for the first time in his life he felt like a monster and his heart was pounding hard in his chest. Words were missing in his mouth and the only thing he had the courage to do was to take hold of your hips and bring your body flush with his into a tight hug. Your face fell against his chest then and you felt warm suddenly. The feeling of his body against yours and the comforting caress he was laying on your back made all your worries go away. It didn't take long before your body stopped shaking and that your eyes found his again. You felt like a fool for thinking one second that Gojo could have hurt you...what a stupid girl you were. Everything he does was to protect you, and you knew that. His scent was so damn addictive and you were getting lost in his eyes as you look at him. His whole self was just shooting your whole soul and you just cuddled closer for an instant as a soft satisfying breath left your lips followed by a soft and delicate "Saturo".

Seeing you so relaxed was a real relief for Saturo, he seriously feared you would pushed him away when he hugged you. Yet, there you were just trying to get even closer to him and the sorcerer couldn't keep a sweet and joyfully smile from covering his lips. He loves you so much...to much maybe but he felt like the luckiest man alive to be able to kiss you like just now on the top of your head. All of this almost made him forget about the initial conversation you had that caused your distress and his sour reaction earlier, almost.

I'm here sweetheart, I'm sorry if I scared you...You do know I would never hurt you right. Gojo said with a hopefully voice. He dearly wished you knew otherwise it would be painful for him. Delicately in a sweet gesture, saturo placed one of his hand on your cheek and started caressing it as he kept you in his arms. He felt so much better now that you were right there.

And you had to admit that you did feel the same way now that he was holding you too. He touched your face and you leaned toward his touch like desperate for more. Your eyes met his again after a little and you just spoke up with an apologetic voice to him.

Yes of course I know that Saturo. It's just that you had seemed so pissed when I asked you to go with the other that I felt...worried that you might snap at me you know. I love you...so much but I feel that it is so unfair to stay here while the other can actually get more experience with plagues and monsters. I'm an Exorcist to my love...I need to fight demons to get better but if you keep me locked up in here it won't happen saturo. I need you to trust me.

Saturos eyes looked deeply into yours as you spoke up, he knew that what he was doing wasn't fair but he just couldn't bare the tought of you hurt. As you stopped talking and seemed desperate for him to say something saturo heart tightened in his chest and his brows furrowed a bit. It was evident that the mage wasn't happy about the conversation or the situation which you placed him in. If it was only about him he would never allow you to go on a mission again, yet he knew it was important to you and was aware fundamentally that you were right. If you wanted to be better you had to train more and actually face real monsters. For a moment of silence during which saturo only laid gentle caress on your face. The Exorcist tried to think about the solution that would suit the both of you and then an idea popped up into his brain and made a smirk spear on his lips.

Fine princess...I will allow you to go on mission, that only if I come with you as your partner. That's the only option that you have and I won't change my mind.

Saturo said with a voice that sounded gentle but serious about the matter none the less. His hand that was on your face gently moved on the back of your neck and then into your long hair to play with them sweetly waiting for your answer.

At first you stayed stunned at his proposition since you literally never expected him to ask that of you. Yet, as you thinked about it, you realized that this idea of his wasn't as displeasing as you would have thought. After all you weren't against spending more time with him even if it was during a mission. It would be like a couple date in some sort, well at least that was the way you saw it. A smile spread on your face and your cheek blushed a bit because of the touch and attention he was giving your body. You swear that you could never have enough of his touch but anyway, with your eyes still in his and a surprisingly happy face you answered his condition with the sweetest voice.

You could have asked me if you simply wanted to have more time with me Saturo. I would love to go in mission with you baby.

To be honest you were so enthusiastic about the idea that you couldn't keep yourself from showing your happiness. It was just really funny to see the surprise in Satoru's face when he realized that you actually accepted his offer. It was like if he had never anticipated having it so easy and now he just didn't know what to say or what to do. His hands that were playing in your hair had stopped moving and his lips had parted, he looked like a fish out of water and it made you giggle and take his face between your hands.

Oh come on don't act so surprised did you really think that I wouldn't accept spending more time with you Satoru? You asked him as you places gentle kissed to his face.

It was really rare to see Satoru distabilized but right now his face looked like a cherry and you had to admit it was the cutest thing you had ever seen. He looked so adorable, just like a little child and you smirked at his reaction seeing that he was visibly trying to say something. Unfortunately for you however, your boyfriend managed to get his emotion back in touch and then answered you, with this cocky, confident side of him that you tought was hot.

Well yes, I have to say that I'm surprised. I know you sweetheart and you are not usually that cooperative when I ask something of you. You are such a bad little girl.

Satoru told you sheepishly with this little brat attitude of his before taking you by surprise and lifting you up into his arms like a baby.

A little yelp left your lips as he did so since you admittedly never expected him to do that but you rapidly circled your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes as you came leveled up with his face. Satoru was normally so tall and you had difficulty getting even a bit close to his face, yet in that position it wasn't a problem anymore. Your lips were so close and your breathing started to get faster as you tought about shushing him up with your lips on his.

What a little brat he could be really, but well he was your little brat.

Just before actually kissing him you hit his shoulder in a mocking anger before letting out a loud "Pfff" and rolling your eyes.

Oh just shut up Satoru~

Then with a smirk that you had difficulty to hide, you kissed him hard, biting his lower lips in the passage. A sweet moan left you as you taste him and your hand gripped his long white hair unconsciously. It felt so soft and you loved playing with them, especially in moments like these.

With a smirk on your lips as you parted from his, you gently peck his cheek and wispered something into his ears playfully.

Well, now that this matter is settled why don't you teach me something teacher.

Satoru sent you a smirk back and you felt like the rest of the day would be much more interesting. Who could have tought things would end up that way hum.

[tojisun]

popping in here just to say ive been there too :( my advisor told me i had to put off my graduation for a year due to a miscalculation of my schedule and it was one of the worst feelings ever. you are so seen and don't overstress yourself! im so sorry that its wasn't great, rooting for u sm

god im so sorry that happened to u too baby and thank you so much for your kindness and support. i was venting bc of how big my upset feeling was and didnt expect to be seen and comforted 🥹 thank you so so much again <3

its just such a horrible feeling bc i thought i just have one more sem left, not two. im trying to find a way to dispute the situation bc it just blindsided me and as far as i can tell, this isnt my fault bc theres never been an option to review what is what. but yea, i went out of his office and into the crowded hall still crying. apparently grief triumphs over anxiety bc i didnt care abt ppl looking at me lol

gah im tired

[musicreveiwsbyezti]

What's up babygirls (literally no one reads my blog) here's my March topster

This month was mostly shit I thought it would be interesting to listen... so lot of metal again. Also for the sake of my sanity I have 2 records that I genuinely don't know what the fuck I should do with.

Unrated: Current 93-I have a special plan for this world (Dark Ambient/Poetry): Arguably the best scary stuff I have ever listened but I never want to hear this again as once was perfectly enough. It gives a really disturbing atmosphere and the poetry part itself was interesting too. I highly recommend checking it out at least once. Slipknot-Iowa(Nu metal): I don't get it. The instrumentation is good but the lyrics are so god damned corny that it hurts. It doesn't help that it sounds like death metal for people who don't want to listen to actual death metal. I probably give it another chance later... not now tho I still can't take The Heretic Anthem seriously.

Alright now the actual tierlist begins:

14th: Combat Wounded Veteran-Electric Youth Crew(Powerviolence): I had a small journey and sat down to listen through the entire CWV discography (it's not that long definitely recommend it to get into powerviolence) and this is arguably the "weakest" of their releases. It doesn't really stand out and can be forgotten easily.

13th: CWV-This Is Not an Erect, All-Red Neon Body (Powerviolence/Grindcore): Idk it just doesn't click as well as IKAGWDCSP.

12th: Death-The Sound of Perseverance(Death/Prog Metal):Jesus Christ this album was a major disappointment for me. As a last Death album I expected it to be a last brutal yet technically extreme blast...but they just had to listen to 30 hour acid freeform jazz or some shit to get inspiration. This album has genuine fire songs, but they just had to fuck up the in the middle with a boring ass bass "solo" or someshit... Also the Painkiller cover is the worst song I heard this year so far, how the fuck can you ruin a perfect song when you are already a talented vocalist is beyond me.

11th: CWV-Duck Down for the Torso(Powerviolence/Grindcore): A short and sweet end for CWV's discography. Having it end on a Folded Space song was a great choice which gives an interesting feeling for the end.

10th: Stabbing-Extirpated Mortal Process(Brutal Death/Slam metal): Now this is a good slam metal album.

9th: Sematary-Bloody Angel(Horrorcore/Chicago drill): After Sems last EP I thought it was over... BUT IT ISN'T! It gives vibes of RB2 with RB3 mixing with some HAW mixed in. He can cook just let him do his thing :pray:

8th: Spycada-Hiking Lung(Psychedelic rock): It's good, great vibe, good tones, overall enjoyable. Looking forward to their next stuff.

7th: Magrudergrind-Self title(Grindcore/Powerviolence): THE grindcore album. Absolutely slaps, the sample use is interesting.

6th: Igorrr-Spirituality and Distortion(Avant Guard Metal/Breakcore) This... is Schrödinger's kitchen. I don't know if the kitchen is burned down or has served a 5 star menu, until I care to write an actual criticism of it. (Also the mixing of metal, break core and classical music is insane and the sheer heaviness this album gives is phenomenal, though it falls of gradually on the second half)

5th:Sweet Trip-Velocity : Design : Comfort(IDM/Glitch Pop) At least 200 people already circle jerk around this album, yes it is good, no I don't explain why I love it because I ain't talking about why breathing air is good.

4th:Have a nice life-Deathconsciousness(Post Punk/Shoegaze): Same as last time, people already told you enough why it's good, just fucking listen through it already. (side note some of the songs on this albums mixed weirdly quite for some reason, and it's kinda wack how the drone parts are the best, but still really good)

3th: Dead in the Dirt-The Blind Hole(Grindcore/Powerviolence) Jesus I listen to a lot of powerviolence this month... Anyways this is probably my favourite pw record yet. Probably the more understandable vocals help to lift it just a little bit above the rest for me.

2th:Mastodon-Leviathan(Sludge metal/Prog metal) Fun fact in the 2000's 2 whale concept prog metal albums came out, both of which are peak. I don't know how they got The Moby Dick nailed so well in metal form but they sure did with heavy riffs and amazing vocal performances.

1th: Electric Wizard-Witchcult Today(Stoner/Doom metal): I was afraid to check out the rest of EW discography after Dopethrone cuz it is too peak... However this album is probably as good as Dopethrone. Something about this album gives more OG metal vibes with less insanity.

[halfmoonism]

it has just occurred to me that I did not explain what the au even was. so (p5r spoilers below):

also feel free to ask me qs abt this. they will not leav my head

not-quite roleswap au where an akechi who is persona-less until 17 unwittingly becomes the leader of the "phantom thieves" (they are not called that) w/ morgana makoto futaba and sumire (in that order)

joker meanwhile is Sort Of black mask (they are not called that) w/ ryuji ann yusuke and haru. they have their reasons trust me (mild blackmail, a lot of bad influences, The Works)

starts in his/makoto's/haru's 2nd yr (sept/2nd sem), goes up to end of canon

no ships btw. akechi is dragged kicking and screaming into a found family and it takes 200k to do it (no longer exaggeration I fear)

um. i offer new confidant links (mostly introduced through other ppl bc Come On do you think akechi waltzes into deep potent friendships by himself) such as: lala escargot. shinichi yoshizawa. muhen. jose. eiko takao. uh. checks notes shinya and sojiro are here again sorry that's my found family

also everyone's arcanas are shifted to fit their new chara arcs but they don't get the old arcana storyline (i.e. akechi is now the tower, reversed at the start but he does not get shinya's storyline lmao)

okay more specific details below:

lavenza has been fighting The Demons (yaldabaoth) off for two years which is why akechi is persona-less at the start (his/makoto's 2nd yr). we do not meet her until 3rd sem sorry lavenza. yes this also means akechi can't fuse personas

akechi and makoto are the worst worsties ever. every day they wake up and wish violence upon e/o. akechi directly contributes to makoto's awakening (again). it takes them 5 entire chs to establish a confidant link. and yet they form one of the strongest friendships in the entire thing

akechi has loki and a different persona SORRY robin hood just didn't make sense for the direction his chara took (i.e. after 15 yo and still feeling helpless all hope he had that he could be a hero of justice that avenged his mother died)

futaba fights now :) she has a scythe :)

since there are only 5 party members I figured the one who's swapped out during fights does the nav role, meaning everyone else helps teach sumire how to analyze weaknesses after she joins the team <3 I love found family

also since there are only 5 party members I switched up element specializing: akechi - curse/ice/gun (loki), bless/psy/phys (2nd persona), morgana - wind (he's the main healer + can full party buff + I was not giving him gun sorry lmao), makoto - nuke/lightning, futaba - psy/fire, sumire - bless/phys

makoto does not become a cop and morgana is not really fucking weird towards ann (or anyone) anymore god bless

the new group names are mildly cringe on purpose. they are high schoolers They think it's cool and that's what matters <3 my loser kids

the third sem wishes are appropriately updated. as is engine room. smile

if i start tagging things w/ my p5 longfic AU sorry it's me trying to cope

[dae-hyeon]

it hasnt been a day but <333 today was a ride <333

[fromdecemberwithlove]

The sight of him dropping his racquet to the ground and grabbing his wrist, face twisted in pure agony, would be seared into her mind for the rest of her life. And God, the way he had cried out—how the sound had ripped out of him, echoing in the silent tennis court—would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Heart hammering in her chest and sick to her stomach with gnawing worry, she took the steps of the stadium two at a time, her body taking over her mind with one goal—to get to him.

Being who she was—Hermione Granger, one of the best female tennis players in the world—no one attempted to stop her when she moved past the staff in a rush and stopped in front of the locker room. 

The door was ajar and she could see Charlie Weasley, the team’s SEM physician and his coach Regulus Black surrounding him as he sat on the wooden bench, looking paler than she’d ever seen him in the two decades she’d known him. He was drenched in sweat and when Charlie turned his left wrist to assess the damage, her chest tightened as she watched him clench his jaw, lips pulled in a tight line, features tense with suppressed pain.

“How bad is it?” she heard Regulus ask, and Hermione held her breath as her eyes moved to Charlie.

The aggravated sigh he let out as a reply confirmed her worst fears.

“It’s bad,” he said, giving the player sitting in front of him a displeased look. “I warned you, repeatedly, but you…” he sighed again and shook his head. “I’ll do what I can now, but you need to go to the hospital.” He declared before he began digging in the medical bag at his side.

“No hospital.” 

Hermione’s temper flared. She pushed the door open with the force of her mounting anger and it banged against the wall. Regulus and Charlie startled and turned toward her, but Draco Malfoy’s eyes remained fixed on the metal locker in front of him. 

She marched into the room and planted her fists on her hips, pinning him with a glare.

“Give us a minute, please.”

Regulus nodded and left without a word. Charlie followed after tapping Malfoy’s wrist and giving him a shot of what she presumed were painkillers. He put a hand on her shoulder when he reached her.

“Hope you can talk some sense into him,” he told her. “This is not going to magically get better on its own.”

Hermione gave a curt nod, and he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He was still not looking at her and she forced herself to take a deep breath to rein in her desire to wring his neck for his bloody recklessness and his infuriating stubbornness. For the maddening way he refused to give up, ever, pushing the limits of his body when he knew better. When, more than most, he was aware of the consequences. After all, a similar injury had ended his mother’s professional career. 

“Why are you here?”

She scoffed. He really was a prat. No better than an overgrown version of the 4-year-old she’d first met one summer day when she’d joined the same tennis club.

“Yeah, I bet this is fucking hilarious to you,” he spat, as he finally turned around to face her.

Hermione knew the venom in his voice wasn’t really directed at her. He was in pain. He was frustrated and when he did; he lashed out. Rather than retaliating, she crossed her arms and dropped her guard enough to show him the concern she felt.

“There is nothing funny about a potential career ending injury, Malfoy.”

“Oh, come off it, Granger! You’ve been waiting years for this.”

The comment shocked her to her core. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

They’ve been rivals since they were children—the staunch competitive streak that drove them to become the top athletes they were today was something they had in common. Hermione had always believed their rivalry was instrumental in making her the player she was. She had assumed he shared the same view. 

But the murderous look he was levelling against her belied that notion. Had she been mistaken all these years? The staggering thought made her nauseous. 

“You can’t be serious,” her voice was but a whisper and full of disbelief.

She saw his jaw tightened before he looked away again. But Hermione had to know. It was imperative. With her heart in her throat, she closed the distance between them until she stood right in front of him.

“Do you truly believe that?” 

He kept staring at the floor, ignoring her.

She wasn’t having it. 

“If that’s how you see me, if I’m–if I’m such a loathsome, evil person in your eyes,” the words felt like acid on her tongue, but she dug her nails in her biceps and pushed past it. “Why did you sleep with me six months ago?”

As she expected, his reaction was immediate. His head snapped up, and he pinned her with a glare so full of anger and resentment, she almost took a step back. Instead, she braced herself and went for the best form of defence she knew: offence.

“What? I know you like to pretend it never happened, but we both know it did,” she glared right back at him, full of her own bitterness and rancour. “Is that why you did it? Some sort of skewed form of retribution? Some perverse sense of revenge?”

His face turned a dangerous shade of red at her words.

“Fuck you, Granger.”

“You did, Malfoy,” she sneered, the hurt and confusion that had been simmering inside her for the past six months driving her—shoving their way to the surface until she was yelling. “I’m asking why you fucked me if you believe I want to see you fall on your face!”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’m calling security!”

“Tell me!”

“I wish I hadn’t!” he banged his right fist against the wooden bench and Hermione flinched. He rarely lost control. It only ever happened with her. She’d always secretly gotten a thrill out of it—out of being the only one who could force his cold façade to break and his eyes to burn. She was not enjoying it right now, though, and he wasn’t done. In a calm and once again controlled voice, Malfoy delivered the coup de grâce. “It was a mistake. You said so yourself.”

This time, she did take a step back. The accusation left her reeling and for a moment, she couldn’t say anything.

“Now, get out.”

“I-what? when?” She struggled to find the right words, her mind going over the event of that day. “I never said that!”

“You said, and I quote: it should not have happened,” he forced out between gritted teeth. “What bloody else could you have meant? It’s pretty fucking clear you regretted it, so don’t stand here like some fucking vict-.”

“Oh god,” she put a hand to her throat, the words leaving her in a strangled breath. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

He opened his mouth, but Hermione carried on.

“Such a bloody imbecile.”

“Granger-”

Incredulity gave way to fury. “I can’t bloody believe you! That's why you pulled away?” she dragged her fingers through her hair. “And here I was going crazy, trying to figure out, to understand why and you-” she shook her head, eyes heavenward and gave a short, humourless laugh before looking at him. “You are fucking unbelievable!”

“If you’re going to stand there and insult me, you can fuck off, Granger.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere.”

In a move she knew would shock him, Hermione crouched down in front of him. She saw his eyes widen in alarm at the sight of her essentially kneeling at his feet. Any other time, the sight would have been comical.

“Granger, what are you-”

“Do you believe it was a mistake?”

He swallowed hard and tried to turn his head away, but she put a hand on his right forearm and his startled eyes jumped to hers.

“Do you?”

“Does it matter?” He sounded wary rather than bitter.

Slowly, deliberately, she slid her hand along his skin. She watched as he shuddered at her touch, goosebump raising under her fingertips. Lips parted, his eyes tracked her fingers until they reached the back of his hand—he looked transfixed by the way her thumb swept back and forth over his knuckles in a soothing motion.

“Yes, Draco, it matters.”

She’d never called him by his given name, not even as a child—not even when she’d fallen apart under him, biting her tongue to prevent herself from calling it as she shattered with the force of their shared rapture. 

He’d always been Malfoy, and she’d always been Granger. 

The sound of his name seemed to break him out of his trance, and he looked at her again. A myriad of emotions played out in those quicksilver eyes. Not for the first time, Hermione marvelled at how beautiful his eyes were—how expressive they could be, despite his usual impassive and detached demeanour.

“Why?”

The vulnerability in that one word squeezed her heart, and the matching look in his eyes broke it. For six long months, she’d been torturing herself about what had transpired between them—believed with growing misery that he didn’t care for her the way she cared for him.

All because of some inane misunderstanding. 

He cared. Oh he absolutely cared.

So much so he was afraid of being hurt.

She let go of his right hand and cradled his injured one between hers. With infinite care, she lifted the bandaged wrist to her mouth and kissed it. His sharp intake of breath made her do it again before she raised her face to his.

“Because it wasn’t a mistake,” she said, gazing into his eyes with all the sincerity and vulnerability she felt. “I don’t regret it.”

Malfoy raised a hesitant hand toward her face, and she leaned into his palm, accepting his touch. He exhaled, his fingers flexed against her skin before he caressed her cheek with his thumb as his eyes roamed her face, halting on her lips.

Her core clenched at the memory of the way he’d kissed her that night. How he’d devoured her mouth with his, how his tongue had tattooed sinful things on her skin.

“I don’t regret it, either.”

He met her eyes. Beautiful grey brimming with tenderness and something else. Something that took her breath away.

“You could never be a mistake, Hermione.”

She shivered with pleasure, her eyes almost closing at the raw feeling her given name on his lips ignited inside her.

“May I kiss you?” 

He huffed an incredulous laugh before leaning forward, an amused smile on his lips.

“By all means.”

Hermione replaced his injured hand on his thigh, then grabbed his face and gave in to the desire that had been burning inside her for the past six months. The gentle slide of her mouth against his quickly gave way to something more primal and less restrained. She pushed up on her knees and dragged her fingers through his hair. His right hand got hold of the back of her neck as he urged her closer to him, and she moaned at the possessive gesture.

He tasted even better than she remembered and she swiped her tongue against his, bit his bottom lip, committing the sheer perfection of it all to memory once more.

They broke apart, panting, and he dropped his forehead against hers.

“What did you mean, then?” he asked.

Still drunk from the heady kiss, it took her a moment to respond. 

“Hm?”

He pulled back to meet her eyes.

“Afterwards,” he clarified. “What did you mean when you said that it shouldn’t have happened?”

She licked her lips, chasing the remnant of his taste on her skin. Malfoy’s pupils dilated at the sight.

“It all happened so suddenly. One moment we were arguing and the next thing I knew I was in your bed…” she trailed off, sitting back on her calves but maintaining their connection by intertwining her fingers with his. “I never wanted to be just one of your one-night stands,” she said, eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“I won’t be that,” she looked back at him. “I refuse to be that.”

He pressed her fingers between his.

“And I’m the idiot? The bloody imbecile?” he smirked before leaning down and kissing her again. “You could never be just a one-night stand, Granger.” he breathed against her lips. “I wanted you for years. I still do. Only you.”

The confession left her breathless. 

Her heart thundering in her chest, Hermione kissed him with the force of her joy and her relief.

“Me too.” She sighed in contentment, her face nuzzled against the crook of his neck as they embraced, catching their breath. He smelled wonderful despite the sweat the aborted match had left on his skin.

“Good,” he said, and she can feel her smile against her cheek.

She kissed his jaw and pulled away. As much as she wanted to bask in the moment, they had something more important to do. 

“Now that we’ve established that I am yours and you are very much mine,”—he smirked again but nodded—”would you please go to the hospital?”

He cupped her cheek with his good hand.

“Anything for you.”

She’d never understood the meaning of the word until that moment, but Hermione wanted to swoon at those words. Instead, she kissed his gorgeous mouth again.

“Are you...” he stopped, swallowed. “Would you come with me?” 

Dear God, this man would be the death of her.

She turned her head and kissed his palm to erase the unwelcomed hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes.

“I won’t leave your side,” she said. Her fingers wrapped around his uninjured wrist, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever the physician has to say, we’ll face it together, okay?”

“Okay,” he kissed her, hugging her to his chest, breathing her in. “Okay.”

Hermione pulled back and stood, holding out her hand.

“Let’s go.” 

--

The Tennis!AU no one asked for with the Hurt/Comfort I wanted to write.

[starlightstevie]

fics rec / march 2021

Hello again! Here are my favourite fics from the past month - I enjoyed reading these so MUCH and I hope you guys do too!

(* is smut)

Fuck it I’m recommending this again this month because Kait’s cowboy!Thor series is just THAT good and everyone needs this country boy in their life:

*I Need A Hero by @inthorantine​ Masterlist Cowboy!Thor: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

*saints can’t help me now by @peachyteabuck Forest god!Thor x reader: I will tell you the mystery of the woman and of the beast that carries her, whose name has not been written in the book of life from the foundation of the world. Kings give their power and authority to the beast, and those who are with him are the called and chosen and faithful.

and with that shadow upon the ground, i hear my people screaming out by @blackberrybucky Thor x reader: You're on the ship when Thanos comes aboard.

*Warm Water by @xbuchananbarnes Thor x reader: Reader takes a bath after a long day.

*h/c: dom!thor by @thorsthot​

Imagine: Thor smells like a storm by @wandas-sunshine​

*Somnus by @sweeterthanthis​ Nomad!Steve x reader: On the rare occasion that you have him in your bed, you savor every last minute. Even while he sleeps.

*Morning Wood by @angrythingstarlight​ Nomad!Steve x reader: Your new neighbor Steve gives you more than one surprise in the morning.

Good Kind of Trouble by @all1e23​ Biker!Stever x reader: Steve finally meets his cute neighbor. She’s not impressed.

*h/c: the way steve fucks by @helahades​

*Cock Worship by @ozarkthedog​ Andy Barber x reader: You take care of an exhausted Andy.

*illicit affair by @feliciahardyn​ Professor!Andy Barber x reader: You had been crushing on your sexy professor, Andy Barber since the beginning of the semester but he made it hard for you to focus in class. Lucky for you, he was willing to give you the best lesson in your life though.

if it’s not you, it’s not anyone by @blackberrybucky Bucky x reader: Bucky comes back from the snap and his world is shattered.

*West Coast Turnaround by @moteldwelling​ Trucker!Bucky x reader: Bucky Barnes is six foot of surliness driving his eighteen-wheeler across truck stop America. Reader just so happens to have a working thumb. There’s one bed.

Let Me Protect You by @littleredstarfish​ Bucky x reader: He's strong but he still needs protection.

deny (with love) my labor by @divine-mistake Bucky x reader: “I’m here,” you sob, hand shaking. “I’m right here, Bucky. I’m here. I’m here. Bucky, please. I’m here. Please don’t leave me. I’m here. I’m right here.” Or, five times Bucky Barnes has a nightmare, and one time you do.

The World’s A Little Blurry by @summergrls​ Masterlist Bucky x reader: Glimpses into a (mostly) quiet life with the Winter Soldier.

*Oasis by @bubblebucky Bucky x reader: It’s your first time with Bucky, and Bucky’s first time in 80 years.

call it fate, call it karma by @belladonnabarnes Bucky x reader: Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard.

*bucky convinces you to sit on his face by @bunnywritesmarvel

*Chaste by @tiffdawg​ Mando x reader: It’s tradition for couples not to have sex once a marriage promise is made. Not until the wedding night.

*way down we go by @goldafterglow Mando x reader: Din is made of mismatched shards that you bind together - until you want to watch them fall apart.

*kneel at my alter by @filthybookworm Mando x reader: I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.

*I’m not gonna touch you until you beg by @mxsamwilson

*dripping by @cptnbvcks Javi x reader: Javi brings you something to take the edge off during one of colombia’s heatwaves

*What It Is You Do (To Me) by @filthybookworm​ Javi x reader: He’s never mentioned a vest before, is all you can think, mouth parting as your tongue drags across your lower lip in an unconscious expression of desire. What is it, you wonder, that makes it look so good?

*Dinner & Diatribes by mxsamwilson Oberyn Martell x black!reader: Oberyn catches your eye from across the room and holds your gaze. His deep eyes swallow you whole, burn straight through you like twin flames, and you’re falling into him once again. Helpless.

*one single thread of gold tied to you by @spacelabrathor​ Alpha!Deku x Omega!reader: Pro Hero Deku is a frequent visitor at your support lab and you're grateful for it. He's one of your high profile clients and his quirk is strong enough that he has to come for suit repairs near twice a month. It helps that he's one of the most bearable alphas you've ever met, affable and kind, and he never judges you for being a rare omega in the hero line of work. It also helps that he's painfully, absurdly hot. You're perhaps never more grateful for his nature than when the building housing your lab collapses with the two of you in it, and as the walls and floors of your lab crumble, so does the suppressor device that keeps your heats in check and your hormones under control. As the dust settles, you realize you are trapped by rubble and dust and twisted metal with perhaps the only alpha alive that you trust, as your adrenaline surges and your carefully suppressed heat cycle comes roaring to life.

baby mine, don’t you cry by @kaitsukibakugo​ Deku x reader: A quiet early morning moment between Reader and Deku and their newborn baby.

*you’re such a good girl for me by @rat-suki​

*dilf!Deku by @sems-diarie​

*more dilf!Deku by sems-diarie

*wreck my plans (that’s my man) by @spacelabrathor Bakugo x reader: You inform Bakugo that he's a control freak who can't cede control in any area of his life for any reason, and, because he's Bakugo, he immediately, furiously rises to the challenge.

*Thin Walls by @rat-suki Bakugo x reader: Katsuki’s loud, obnoxiously so. And you’re the one who has to deal with it.

*all through the night by @some-kindofgnome​ Bakugo x reader: You and Bakugo have chased a villain far out of the city- too far to make it back for the night. You find somewhere decent to bed down, but there’s a little problem with your room.

*imagine bakugo easing into you, no prep by @sems-diarie

Soon to be dad!Bakugo by @luciilferss​

Subtlety is my middle name by luciilferss

Pro hero Bakugo taking care of you by luciilferss

mean!Bakugo has a soft spot for you by @ihatebnha​

*Bakugo with a pillow princess girlfriend by @hanji-is-life​

*Dumb slut Bakugo by @ihatebnha

*villian!Bakugo takes you in an alleyway by @lookslikeleese​

*the folly of man by @dymphnasprose Todoroki x reader: Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.

*toshinori as a lover by @spacelabrathor​

at my worst by @hiiraya Wanda Maximoff x reader: Slow dancing in the kitchen with Wanda.

wanda + pianist au by @helahades

Fireman Sam by @buckysknifecollection Firefighter!Sam Wilson x reader: You visit the local police station and catch the eye of a certain firefighter.

*size kink with geralt by @lovely-cryptid​

*Heat by fettsvette Boba Fett x reader: Set after the second season of The Mandalorian. Boba Fett takes you on a faraway hunt that involves a prolonged journey through hyperspace. You’re horny as fuck, but your man is too preoccupied with running a tight ship to pay you any mind - until things get a little too desperate.

[lacharcutiere]

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

class sign ups for next sem started today (not enrollment though god bless) and i was making my schedule which actually looked good for once because it started at 1 and ended at 5:30

then i forgot i didn't add my labs or workshops

THEN I FOUND OUT ORGO LABS ARE FOUR HOURS LONG?! so i had to change my orgo lecture to fit in my lab

good grief i'm regretting everything because even though i'm not done my schedule is going to be a MESS

Oh god, class signups, I just registered for my classes and good god now that you mention it I'm finishing up my orgo series next quarter and I can't wait for those god foresaken four hour labs because yup. It's cuz organic reactions take for fucking ever DSHJFHDJFJSD But NOOO that's the worst! Making your perfect schedule then boom discussions and labs SURPRISE it's EVIL but yeah there's no thing as a break day for STEM majors 😭 unless you want ten hour days AHAHAHA no

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[kekisu]

TOP 5 CHARAS AND 5 REASONS WHY YOU LIKE THEM GO GO GO

AHHHH OKAY OKAY. I LITERALLY LIT UP WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY INBOX YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA THANK YOU SO MUCH ah okay. i hope its ok if i leave it to just one or two of my fav things about them though cause NFHBGDF I DONT WANT THIS TO BE MILES LONG i hope you understand!!!!!

1. LIGHT YAGAMI

now. i dont think anybodys surprised. MFKSKFMFMHNGJN honestly, though i dont care about death note much at all anymore, hes like gum stuck to my shoe and i just cannot get him off no matter what i do. i tell myself that i dont give a fuck about anything in death note until i see him on my dash and i go apeshit. hes completely changed me and how i approach analyzing complex characters. i think hes the first character that ive ever actually cared about in that sense? the sense where i look into every detail about him i mean. its really just so fun...

my absolute favorite thing about him... i really love how funny he is. this isnt to say hes a humorous guy im saying hes funny as in he makes such stupid decisions and its hilarious to see him struggle so hard constantly. the entire ending of death note is fucking insane it sends me into laughing fits every time. theres so many funny moments in death note despite it being considered a psychological horror animanga because of him being a genuine fucking idiot 24/7. hes supposed to be a genius but he truly does lack so much self awareness sometimes.

if you wanna know more of my thoughts in depth, i have an analysis of him here that you can check out :) ID LOVE FEEDBACK ON IT so if you disagree with me or have questions etc feel free to shoot an ask and ill try to answer!!!!!

2. GORO AKECHI

god... hes perfect. he and light are on the same level of favoritism for me, dont let the numbers fool you. hes hands down my absolute favorite in persona 5 and it blows my mind knowing that the majority of the fandom feels the exact opposite or are torn over him ITS ALMOST FRUSTRATING because its mostly due to the amount of misinformation/mischaracterization spread about him!!!! but no he just happens to be the best written character in that piece of shit of a game! MFDKDHNGJJ AND PERSONA FANS CANT COMPREHEND GOOD WRITING

my favorite thing about him.. i love how hes written. and i know this sounds really basic and predictable, but its the truth i just really love his growth as a character, especially in royals third semester when he gets a chance to properly shine and oh my god! did he shine! hes literally so perfect in 3rd sem

theres just something so captivating about an angry teenager who truly thinks of his life as worthless and doesnt bother making bonds with others because of it who suddenly finds himself questioning his choices of self isolation when he finally meets a group of people he can resonate with and feel seen by. a group of people who are willing to reach out and listen to him despite his past mistakes. theres just something so perfect about seeing that same angry teenager want to take his life into his own hands and strive to grow... that same angry teenager who didnt value his own life start to see meaning in things because of bonds...

i love goro so so much he makes me so emotional if it isnt obvious enough NGFHGDGBDFH I THINK ABOUT HIM A LOT. i think about him healing so much.

(btw im working on an analysis for him atm thats similar to lights so! stay tuned for that dropping when its done in like a million years NFHFBGFHDBGHF)

3. AKIRA KURUSU

DAMN 2 PERSONA 5 CHARACTERS IN A ROW

OKAY SO i know Technically akira is supposed to be a blank slate silent protagonist but let me tell you THATS SO FAR FROM WHAT HE ACTUALLY IS. IM NEVER FORGIVING ATLUS FOR TRYING TO SHOVE HIM INTO THE SILENT PROTAG BOX AND NOT LETTING HIM BE HIS OWN CHARACTER! BECAUSE HE HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE AMAZINGGGGG ugh sorryfor caps im so fuckng mad MKDFKMGMHMGMG

it really does get on my nerves how because of atlus trying to make him a silent protag, the majority of the p5 fandom sees him as that. blank slate. nothing. when in reality he very much has a ton of spunk and id argue that hes his own character entirely if you just look a little deeper past the surface Like... its not even that hard to see personality in him. beneath the mask is literally his theme song, have you Not seen the lyrics to that? HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE ENTIRE THEME OF THE GAME? this little dude is so traumatized and angry at those who wronged him (aka the justice system! shitty adults!) and people have the nerve to say hes the worst persona protagonist? lmfao

my favorite thing about akira is how he looks like a cat and how cocky and annoying he can be.. he is such a jokester hes the absolute dumbest. i enjoy this silly guy. *holds him under the armpits like a longcat*

4. SHIGEO KAGEYAMA

ahhh mob. he makes me do this -> :)

mp100, of course, changed my fucking life. mp100 is the reason i am the way i am and though all the characters are incredibly relatable and memorable and i cherish them so dearly, i, like most people, cherish mob the absolute most. seriously his strength really is incredible and though hes just a fictional character he is so inspiring and i wish to carry as much gentleness in my heart as he does.

im so so proud of him on his development he started off so.. i wouldnt say he was weak, but i would say that he lacked experience. he lived in his own little bubble not knowing what the world was like and throughout the story he grew to learn so much.. he learned to make such. mature decisions at such a young age. hes so so wise. hes so powerful not only because of his psychic powers but because of his compassion for others. he can befriend even the worst of people...

my favorite thing about him is his determination to become the best version of himself he can be. and also his relationship with ritsu (not me, i mean ritsu kageyama <3) i always gravitate towards siblings in fiction because im an only child and well <3 i dont experience that. so i like projecting onto them GHBFBBHFG they care so much for each other.. sniffle sniffle

5. RYO ASUKA

ok im going to be real even though im into devilman i dont have much of a reason to enjoy him this much. i just think hes hilarious and really cool and his satan form gives me gender envy. i love it when he commits random easily avoidable acts of violence for no reason at all its just because he wants to. and thats just fine. i think he can kill people and get away with it because hes ryo asuka. gay rights

[ghostflowerdreams]

Portuguese Words

This list of Portuguese words is for stuff that I’ve never learned, but need to know now. After all, there was no reason to teach a kid what the words for tax consultant, mortgage and so on are. They would have a long ways to go before they would need to start worrying about adult stuff. This is why I now find myself struggling with translating these things for my parents because no one ever taught me any of that shit. 

My parents expected me to already know, thinking it was something I would’ve learned in school. They don’t teach that, at least, not anymore and it might also depend on the country too. Even if they did I doubt I would’ve been able to correctly explain to my parents anything because again -- everything’s in English. Like how the hell was I suppose to know what 'qualified dividend’ was suppose to mean, let alone what the word in Portuguese for it back then?

Brazilian dictionaries were the only things available, not Portugal ones, and it wasn’t something I could’ve easily got locally either. The internet at the time was also super slow (oh god dial-up was the worst), cumbersome and only accessible for a few that could afford it. It wasn’t anything like what we have today. So yeah, I making this word list for future use. I do know most of these already, but sometimes I need a refresher, especially when translating paperwork, mail and what’s on the news.

Ação Civil → Civil Action

Ação Judicial → Lawsuit

Acordos de Não Divulgação → Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs)

Advogado → Lawyer or Solicitor

Agente Imobiliário → Estate Agent

Alistar(-se) → Enlist (-ed)

Anualmente → Annually

Apólice de Seguro → Insurance Policy

Aquecimento Global → Global Warming

Arrendamento → Lease

Assinatura → Signature

Atendimento ao Cliente → Customer Service

Auditoria → Audit

Avaliação → Appraisal

Aviso, Notificação → Notice

Bem-estar → Welfare

Beneficiário → Recipient

Bolsa de Estudo → Scholarship

Calúnia → Slander

Carta de Condução → Driving License

Caução, Depósito de Segurança → Security Deposit

Cobertura de Responsabilidade → Liability Coverage

Combustível Fóssil → Fossil Fuel

Comparticipação, Co-pagamento → Co-payment

Compensação → Compensation

Census → Censo

Cláusula → Clause

Coagir → Coerce

Condado → County

Confidencialidade → Confidentiality

Conselho → Council

Consultivo → Advisory

Consultor Fiscal → Tax Consultant

Conta → Account

Contabilidade → Accounting

Contagem de Crédito, Notação de Crédito → Credit Score/Credit Rating

Contrato → Contract

Convocação Júri → Jury Summons

Cupão → Coupon

Custas Processuais → Court Costs

Deficiência → Disability

Deficiente → Disabled

Denúncia → Complaint

Desconto → Discount

Desemprego → Unemployment

Desobriga (de) → Exemption (from)

Despejo → Eviction

Dever do Júri → Jury Duty

Disputa → Disagreement

Ditadura → Dictatorship

Dívida → Debt

Herança → Inheritance

Emancipação → Emancipation

Embaixada → Embassy

Empréstimo → Loan

Escritura → Title Deeds

Espetador → Bystander

Estado de Emergência → State of Emergency

Expiração, Prazo de Validade → Expiration/Due Date

Extinguir (um processo) → Dismiss (e.g., a case)

Extinção do processo (com julgamento do mérito) → Dismissal (with prejudice)

Extinção do processo (sem julgamento do mérito) → Dismissal (without prejudice)

Extorsão → Extortion

Fiador → Guarantor

Fiança → Bail

Funcionário → Employee

Garantia → Warranty

Governador → Governor

Hereditariedade → Heredity

Hipoteca → Mortgage

Imposto → Tax

Imobiliária → Estate Agency

Inauguração → Inauguration

Incapacidade → Handicap

Indulto → Pardon

Intimação → Subpoena

Lacuna (da Lei) → Loophole (in the Law)/Gap (in the Law)

Licença → Permit

Litígio → Litigation

Multa de Estacionamento → Parking Ticket

Negócio → Business

Notário → Notary Public

Opressão → Oppression

Ordem de Pagamento → Money Order

Ordenação → Ordinance

Pagamento de Impacto Econômico → Economic Impact Payment

Palácio de Justiça → Courthouse

Pedágio → Toll

Período de Graça, Período de Carência → Grace Period

Política → Policy

Prémio → Premium

Presidente da Câmara → Mayor

Processar (por) → Sue (for)

Procuração → Power of Attorney

Proibir → Prohibited

Propiedade → Property

Proprietário → Proprietor, Owner

Receita Federal → Internal Revenue Service (IRS)

Receção → Reception

Reembolso → Refund

Registo Predial → Land Registry

Registros do Tribunal → Court Records

Rendimento → Income

Responsabilidade → Liability

Sala do Tribunal → Courtroom

Saque a Descoberto → Overdraft

Segurança Nacional → National Security

Semestral → Biannual

Sondagem de Opinião → Opinion Poll

Subsídio de Desemprego → Unemployment Benefit

Taxa → Fee

Taxa de Juros → Interest Rate

Termos do Serviço → Terms of Service

Testamento → Will

Transferência Bancária → Wire Transfer/Bank Transfer

Tratado de Paz → Peace Treaty

Tribunal de Tributação → Tax Court

Trégua → Truce

[archeymyka]

grateful.

My first blog for 2021 and after 8 years! Woah!

Ilang beses ko na gustong gawin ‘to tbh. There’s a lot of things in my mind na I really want to write, to type, to kwento, to post, or whatever. But not really to expose my stories or my thoughts. Parang gusto ko lang mag-kwento kahit walang nakikinig, gusto ko na one day kapag may gusto akong balikan na kwento sa buhay ko, may bagay na mababalikan ako.

Anyway, I saw this tweet on my friend’s FB story. 

It actually hit me. Tbh, madalas akong naco-conscious sa mga ipo-post/pinopost ko sa Social Media kasi ayaw kong masabihan ng mayabang or insensitive to those people that are not YET getting/achieving the same thing. And after reading this, it made me remember all my hardships ever since with my parents-- my family. Deserve ko naman siguro na i-celebrate with them every little thing, every milestone, every achievement, every blessing na natatanggap ko diba?

LUMAKI AKO SA HIRAP. REAL TALK. 

Si Papa ang nakamulatan ko na work niya ay tao siya sa isang Auto Supply ng kamag-anak, then nag-ipon at sumubok siya na magtayo ng Auto Supply pero unfortunately di nagtagal nalugi siya. Kaya ang ending naging Mekaniko siya ng sasakyan and up to this day (ayaw niyang iwan). 

Si Mama, isa namang magandang housewife.

Noong bata ako naranasan ko na mag-ulam ng asin. SRSLY. Nag-aral ako ng Elementary and High School sa public school, may times na walang baon or pamasahe lang dala ko. Kaya nung HS ako, pumasok ako sa Coop para maging tindera ng shake. Naalala ko Php30-50 per day yon, depende sa oras, ang laking tulong. Bahay-school-bahay lang ako noon kasi unang una wala naman akong budget pang-bulakbol LOL, at may mga maliliit ako na kapatid walang katulong si mother. By the way, 5 kami at panganay ako.

CHAROT!!!!!!!!

So ayon na nga, nalampasan ko yun, akala ko tapos na, pero boom! College is waving ang peg! Thank God nakapasa ako sa State University (TUP) na mababa ang Tuition, kung hindi di ko makikilala si Kevin (ay lande pala!). Going back, worst experience ko nung College, I think 1st year, 1st sem yun, naglakad ako from bahay to TUP and vice versa pauwi kasi wala akong pamasahe! 0! Bokya!! I had to attend one class kasi may exam kami nun. Grabe almost 4km walk! 30+mins walk! After that, experience, sabi ko sa sarili ko ayaw ko na ng ganon, kaya nagsasave ako kahit papaano sa baon ko, nag-apply ako as KABAKA scholar, tapos 3rd year nag-work ako sa Mcdo kasi ang dami na requirements. Magastos! Hay, ang hirap ng buhay. Pero sa awa ng Diyos, nakaka-survive ako at naka-graduate! YIPEEEEEEE!

After College and up to this day, is DEFINITELY not a smooth road. Ang daming rejections, challenges, mean people, puyat, stress, pagod, etc. para matuto at makatuntong sa position na meron ako ngayon. (And it is still in progress...)

My parents and sibs are my inspiration, being the first child helped me as well, it always reminds me na I have to succeed, to provide, to help. Yes, pressured ako pero kapag naiisip ko na nakaya ko at kinakaya ko, worth it ang lahat!

And now for the first time, self, allow yourself to be proud and celebrate these achievements of yours! Kasi deserve mo! Your parents are proud of you because you are achieving for them and you yourself should be proud as well!!

Napagtapos ko ng College si Moy!

Konti na lang mapapagtapos ko na din ng High School si Miguel, Yang at Matthew!

Nakapagpagawa ako ng 3rd floor!

Nakuhaan ko ng Health Cards si Mama at Papa!

Nabilhan ko na sila Mama at Papa ng mga pangarap nilang Home Appliances!

Nabilhan ko na yung mga kapatid mo ng pangarap nilang Cellphone!

Nakapagtayo na ako ng business!

Nakakuha na ako ng Life Insurances! (Sun Life & St. Peter)

Nakakuha na ako ng dream car ko!

Nakakabili na ako ng pangarap kong cellphone, mga paboritong food at mga gustong damit!

GRABE!! THANK YOU LORD!!! SOBRANG GRATEFUL AKO SA LAHAT NG MERON AKO NGAYON AT SA MGA BLESSINGS MO PA! Sobra kong naappreciate lahat lahat ng meron ako dahil sa mga napagdaanan ko.

Everything happens for a reason talaga, all we have to do is to keep moving forward!!

[hooned]

hi lovie!!! 60, 99, 87 for the ask game :D

ALEXAAA!! MY BABYYY!!! 🥰 how are you love? i really hope the world is treating you well today!!! *huuug*

60. Have you ever fallen asleep at work/school?

oh god, yes. i think it’s because we barely get any sleep during school days. last sem was the worst coz our major subjects is one thing, but even our minor subjects kept on giving us loads that they think is easy. we used to always pass video presentations (complete with costumes and scripts and shootings, and edtiting), we always do role plays, and all other things instructors come up with to give us innovative ways to learn lol. i legit come to class without sleep and i am not alone. we always have 15 minute breaks in between classes where we can go to the bathroom or eat snacks but we use it to take a nap. every minute counts 😂

99. Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real?

hmmm ... i can’t think of anyone at the moment bb. oh oh oh but there is this one guy in my class who’s soooo smart. like he always plays around, sleeps during class, plays online games like every single one of us, but manages to get a perfect score to almost every quiz and every exam. he’s amazing!! we always say he can’t be real!! it’s like he has super powers or something. i always go to him and let him touch my pencil before an exam so he can pass his intellect to me even just by .5% lololololol!!! 

87. Have you ever sat on a roof top?

i answered this one here, love!! 😘

play with me? 💫

[antialiasis]

Can you explain your Let It Go translation? Like, how is it different from the official one?

Mostly I’m just using phrasing that is 1) less awkward than the official version, because holy hell is that awkward, and 2) actually rhymes where the official version didn’t bother.

Take the translation of “The wind is howling like the swirling storm inside / Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I tried”. The official Icelandic translation of this goes:

Vindurinn gnauðar eins og ólgan inni í mérGat ei byrgt það inni en ég reyndi samt

This means “The wind howls like the turbulence inside me / Could not keep it in but I still tried.” As a translation of the meaning of the original line it’s perfectly serviceable, but there are a few problems here.

One, there is nothing resembling a rhyme anymore - they just dropped it. Two, the stress of the first line is actually on the second syllable, but in Icelandic the stress should always be on the first syllable - you can bend this rule in songs, but “vindURinn gnauðar” does sound a little bit off. Third, “ei” is a word for “not” that’s barely ever used in regular speech - it’s archaic/poetic - but “en ég reyndi samt” sounds very modern and colloquial. That whole second line just reads awkward as hell.

Just using a word like ei here and there is absolutely fine in itself - this is a song, which is poetry, and ei appears in songs all the time! But this translation is just full of these sorts of archaic words or word forms right alongside colloquial, modern phrasing, and it just sounds demented. Similarly, a couple bits where the stresses don’t line up perfectly naturally are fine - but this translation has a lot of them, and it makes the overall thing sound super stilted and off. And of course dropping a rhyme or two isn’t a big deal either when it’s better for the overall flow, but half of the rhymes are dropped for no good reason. It’s kind of the sheer amount of kludgery that makes it so bad, rather than doing any of these things at all.

I turned this into:

Og vindur gnauðar eins og ólgan innra með.Missti stjórnina, hvernig gat það skeð?

The first line is pretty similar; I like the overall imagery and rhythm of it fine. I used “Og vindur...” (And wind...) because that’s a super simple way to fix the stress issue, and tweaked the end of the line for rhyming purposes by using “innra með” (within) over “inni í mér” (inside me).

The second line I rewrote entirely, because as noted above the original is just kind of hot garbage. My version translates to “Lost control, how could that happen?” Which is obviously less of a literal translation of the English line, but communicates the same thing (she was trying to maintain control but couldn’t).

It’s really all just stuff like that, pretty much. “And the fear that once controlled me” is officially rendered as “Og hræðslan sem hafði tökin”, which is like, “The fright that had the control”, which just sounds awkward and weirdly impersonal and is completely off rhythmically; I turned it into “Og óttinn sem bjó í mér”, which means “And the fear that lived inside me” which is way more natural phrasing and also works way better rhythmically (the og has to cover the first two unstressed notes of the original line, but that sounds okay, whereas the official translation has to squeeze an extra “sem” in there in the middle of the line).

Of course, the very worst line in the official translation is “Get ei lengur haldið í mér”, their translation of “Can’t hold it back anymore”. In addition to the gratuitous ei and the rhythm being wrong as usual, the phrase “halda í mér” is literally the phrase that you use for holding in pee and nothing else. By God, I do not understand how the translator could not see what they were doing there, or how using an “ei” right next to it is downright grotesque. When you’re talking about holding yourself back emotionally or whatever, it’s “halda aftur af mér”. I turned it into “Ég get ekki bælt hver ég er” (I can’t suppress who I am), which does unfortunately have an extra syllable in the equivalent of “anymore”, but sounds all right.

I’m not quite sure anymore why I was so determined to change “Kuldinn hann hefur ei háð mér neitt” (the cold has never held me back); it does use ei, but it sounds perfectly good there and would be fine if the rest of the translation weren’t so bad. My version, “Kuldinn var aldrei að angra mig” (the cold was never bothering me), is actually more literal. If I were doing this today I’d probably just keep the former, but they both work fine.