#i actually listen to these while studying

[coral-skeleton]

As someone who's around academics alot, yeah, this, scientists are actually very social, and not at all what you'd expect, I mean, confrence opening and closing events and department year end parties tend to go as hard, if not harder than college frat parties. I have never seen people quite as drunk or having as much fun as a bunch of scientists with access to an open bar.

Also, about half the job of a scientist is telling other people about your work, and you have to keep their attention while talking about often complicated and boring statistical techniques, so you need to be really good at being interesting. Beyond just talking to your peers about your work, scientists also often lecture, and participate in outreach events to schools and the public in general, so you have to know how to keep a diverse range of audiences engaged and intrested.

Studying one aspect of the world also tends to breed interest in the rest of it, so scientists are rarely monotonous people and will often be happy to chat about just about anything

Science also comes with testing theories, so if you're slightly drunk and have a slightly crazy "I wonder if we could do this" moment, the person most likely to say "ok, bet" and get arrested for it, is a scientist, for some of the brightest minds on the planet, scientists are incredibly stupid when it comes to decision making and impulse control

So, yeah, very few scientist are actually the stereotypical nerd in a bow tie and suspenders with large bulky glasses who only listens to classical music and can only talk about their field

i really want people to stop writing scientists as awkward, stilted conversationalists who don't understand idioms or emotions and start writing them as depressed alcoholics who swear like sailors unless they're in a specifically academic situation

[borathae]

BTS Reaction: Breakfast in Bed

Anonie said: Sibiuuu I'm back 😚😚😚 thank you so much for all the other reactions, I'm so happy yippiee 😚 neow listen kween 👉🏾👈🏾 Bangtan's reaction to getting breakfast in bed? I just think it would be so fluffy and sweet 👉🏾👈🏾

Genre: Fluff

Gender: not-specified

Wordcount: 3k

a/n: anonie my love! this is exactly the kind of content I lose my shit over gaaah i LOVE!! this got so insanely fluffy and romantic i'm so happy but also omgmgm listen 😔 the thought of having a lover? and surprising them with breakfast in bed? i cry because it's not my reality 😔

Namjoon

CW: hinted “night after” trope, bsf2l!AU

This is the first time he stays at your place. You and he aren’t new per say. As a matter for fact, you were best friends before you became more. Namjoon always said that friends can’t become lovers until he fell for you. Namjoon was also at your place before, many times actually, but he never slept over. Especially not as your boyfriend. After a, well, after a very nice night. 

He traces the spots you touched last night, reminiscing with closed eyes how it was to be with you. Namjoon always thought that love making was only thing of movies. Sex stems from humans and humans are too flawed the create something as innocent as love making. Then he laid with you and felt your breath against his neck and Namjoon finally got it. 

He opens his eyes before his racing heart can overwhelm him. He sits up.

“Holy fuck”, he presses out, touching his own chest to make sure that he was still alive. His heart never raced as much before. So this is how it feels like.

You have some books on the bedside table. Namjoon reaches for one of them in order to distract himself from the massive butterflies in his stomach. He begins reading, glasses perched atop his nose while his tummy continues to tingle.

The books is about philosophy and art. No wonder he fell for you. An art exhibition is only truly enjoyable when he visits it with you. Philosophy only really makes him want to think if he knows that he can share his thoughts with you later. Nature is truly only relaxing if he knows that you get to be next to him. Falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

Namjoon lowers the book, giving you his full attention. His hair is messy, his glasses sit on his nose very prettily. He isn’t wearing a shirt, honey skin kissed by the sunlight entering your bedroom.

“I am. Good morning. Damn, you are really beautiful”, he says, tummy fluttering.

“Thank you. You are beautiful too.”

Namjoon watches you close the distance, “what are you carrying?”

“Breakfast. I thought I could impress you. You know, first night together and all that.” You explain, putting the tray on his lap. “Let me know what you think of it.”

Namjoon studies it, feeling lost for words. You aren’t his first relationship and yet you are the very first person to ever make him breakfast in bed. Well, except for his parents when he got sick as a kid, but this was totally not the same thing. 

“You’re quiet. Does this mean you don’t like it?” you ask quietly.

“What? No, I love it. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe it, that’s all.” 

“Wait till you taste it. I really put my whole breakfastussy into it.”

He cracks up, scrunching his eyes. You snicker, swaying from side to side giddily.

“If that’s the case, I have to try it. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You put on some music in the meantime. It is the same vinyl you listened to last night. 

Your eyes meet shyly. His heart is racing as much as yours is. The memory of last night is so sweet.

“Is it okay if I put on some music?” you ask.

“It's more than okay. You're fucking perfect”, he assures you.

“Nice”, you return to bed, getting comfortable on your side. You sit cross-legged, snatching some of the food to snack on.

But Namjoon can’t concentrate on breakfast. All he sees is you.

He finally gets it. Namjoon finally goddamn gets it.

He takes your hand, squeezing it gently. You stop munching, meeting his eyes in curiousity.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb tracing your knuckles, “I know, first morning kiss and us being in the middle of eating and all, but maybe?”

You giggle, nodding your head. “Yeah, I’d really like to kiss you too”, you confess and close the distance to do exactly that.

Seokjin

“Wakey wakey to some brekkie”, you coo, entering the bedroom with a tray full of food. 

Seokjin, your boyfriend and occasional private chef, gawks at you in surprise as the roles are reversed this morning. He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, when you entered the bedroom. 

“You made me breakfast?” he asks, voice dripping in disbelief.

“I did and it’s your favourite. Now careful, there’s lots on there.”

Seokjin stares in pure shock, feeling his heart speed up. His ears are flushed. 

“Wow, I mean, wow. I love it, but why?”

“Why? Because I want to treat you, that’s why.”

“I see”, he murmurs and lowers his head shyly, ear flushing even harder. “Thank you, wow.” 

You snicker, climbing on bed.

“Now try it, pookie. Before it gets cold.”

“I don't even know where to start. Everything looks so good.” 

“Maybe this? I made it with extra love.”

“Wah, you and your cheesy lines.”

You laugh, “I learned from the best”, you tease, nudging his soft cheek.

Seokjin lets you because you are the only person he allows touching his face. Because he loves you and trusts you. And because your touch is always placed so gently. 

“Then I guess I have to start with this”, he says and picks up the chopsticks.

You snicker beside him, making him sneak a glance at you. You are so adorable to him right now. 

Seokjin lowers the chopsticks, meeting your eyes. He looks at you in ways you have never seen on him. Serious, intense and deeply in love. 

“What?” 

“Just making sure that this is real. You’re so perfect.”

“Be quiet.”

You fluster, lowering your head. The racing of your heart increases when he tilts your head back up with two fingers under your chin. His brows are lifted in a gentle invitation to open your mouth and take the bite he offers. 

Of course you take it, heart truly losing it when he wipes the corner of your mouth and licks his finger. 

Whatever happened to your goofy boyfriend right now, please don’t let it end. Don’t misunderstand, you love his dorky side, but this is changing you as a person. He is so attractive right now.

“Is it yummy?” he asks, gazing at your lips as he caresses your chin.

“It is. Wow, you just made my heart race.”

Seokjin grins lopsidedly and leans closer, “good.” He whispers and kisses your lips with such seriousness and emotion that your heart begins racing yet again.

Yoongi

Yoongi is already awake when you enter the bedroom. He is staring at the wall, trying to come alive on the lazy Saturday this way. Like most mornings, his hair is dented at the back and sticks up messily. It’s a cute look especially paired with his puffy cheeks and barely open eyes.

“Oh? You’re awake? Perfect. Brb”, you say after sticking your head into the room to check on him.

Yoongi acknowledges you with a hum and smacks his lips. He sits, waiting curiously for you to come back while his sleepy eyes run over the dimly lit room. 

You return with something in your hands and a goofy grin on your lips.

“Good morning, darling.”

“What’s this?” his voice is still raspy from sleep.

“Breakfast in bed. It’s raining today and I wanted to be romantic.” You put the tray on his lap. “Tada.”

Yoongi scans his eyes over the array of his favourite breakfast food. You even made him an iced Americano and put together a small flower bouquet with flowers from the garden. 

Yoongi feels so giddy that he could burst. But he is also a little shy about being openly giddy (and very sleepy), so he sits and stares while his heart races unbearably. 

“What do you think?” you ask him, running your fingers through his hair.

“You did this for me?” he sounds in disbelief. 

“Of course I did.” You peck his cheek. “You deserve it and I love you.”

“Thank you. This makes me so happy”, he says and begins eating with flushed cheeks and a giddy smile.

“And? Is it good?” 

“It is. I love breakfast”, he gushes and puts his arm around your waist to pull you close. 

You sit down on the edge of the bed, giggling happily when he kisses your cheek. His eyes sparkle in adoration once he pulls back.

“Thank you for this. I’m very happy.”

“It's because I love you.”

“I love you too.” He closes his eyes and rests his head on your shoulder, giving your waist a soft squeeze, “Thank you.”

You love how Yoongi shows affection, melting in fondness. You hug his head, giving it a little kiss.

“Anything for you, baby.”

Hoseok

“Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~” 

You are entering the bedroom singing and dancing. Hoseok, who is already awake and merely thought that you went for a shower, gawks at you with an open mouth and widened eyes. He even startled a little at first, still clutching his imaginary pearls.

“Happy birthday my Hobi babyyyy~ happy birthday to you.”

You stop by his side, grinning down at him. A purple birthday hat adorns your head. 

“Happy birthday, baby. I hope you’re hungry, I made you breakfast.”

Hoseok giggles, dropping into the sheets to kick his feet. He covers his face behind his hands, looking so adorable that you have to giggle with him. 

You love making him happy. Happiness suits him so well.

“Wow baby, I can’t believe it. This is perfect. I love it”, he gushes, sitting up so he could hug you. Very aggressively if one might add.

“Careful, the food.”

“Yeah, right. Sorry. Show me.”

You put the tray on his lap, eliciting another giggling fit from him. 

“I love it. Thank you. This is the best birthday ever.”

“And it is just the beginning. I have so much planned. So many presents to give you”, you say and lean down to hug him, giving him a big smooch as you do, “I’m gonna treat you like a king today, baby.”

Hoseok leans into your embrace, closing his eyes for it and squeaking giddily.

“Thank you so much. Wow, wait. I need to take pictures. And videos!”

“Do that, my cutie.”

Jimin

CW: hinted "night after" trope but make it flirty

He is supposed to stay in bed and let you surprise him. But of course he doesn’t. Although you made sure to sneak out before he wakes up, you suddenly find yourself in the kitchen with his arms around you and his chest against your back.

“Mhhm smells like breakfast. I’m so hungry already”, he purrs sleepily, using his lower register for it as his soft lips nibble on your neck. He rubs your tummy and waist softly, “what are we making?”

“You are not making anything, you are supposed to be in bed. Goddamn it, my plans are ruined.”

“What plans?” 

“I wanted to use your sleeping-in-tendencies to my advantage and make you breakfast in bed. But of course you have to wake up timely today.”

Jimin chuckles, kissing your ear. 

“I’m sorry. Last night knocked me out deep enough that I feel well rested.”

“Noted. I know what to do next time I want you to relax.”

“Please do, I’ll turn into your devotee.”

You chuckle, but tingle a moment later when Jimin sucks on your skin gently.

“Last night was amazing”, he purrs, kissing a path up to your ear so he could tickle it with his lips, “was it good for you too?”

“It was and you’re teasing”, you say, barely wanting to keep your eyes open. He feels so good.

“I’m not. I’m reminiscing.”

“You are totally teasing”, you laugh, “and you’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to go back to bed. I’m almost done.”

“But the kisses.”

“No buts. Breakfast in bed.”

“At least let me carry something. It’s the least I can do after ruining the surprise.”

“No. Back to bed now. I’m the one to romance you today.” You turn around and shove at his bared chest gently. “Hop, hop. I’m not asking again.” 

Jimin takes your hands and pulls them to his lips for a kiss, giving you flirty eyes.

“One kiss before I leave, to thank you for cooking.”

“Fine, one kiss. And then I’m sending your cute butt back to bed.”

Taehyung

He knows that you are awake, floating in a state between sleep and awareness. The sound of you doing something in the apartment is his background music, increasing the cozy state he is in. The bedroom windows are open, letting in the warm morning breeze. The curtains dance in the wind and the sun shines onto his skin. He isn’t wearing a shirt because he gets hot easily. The sun feels really good. Warm. It’s a nice, deep warmth. The kind of warmth which gets rid of muscle aches.

Life couldn’t get any better than this. You suddenly enter the bedroom and life actually does get better than this. A lot better. 

“Oh crap, your eyes are open”, you say, halting in your once confident steps.

Taehyung smiles at the view of you, “good morning.”

“Good morning, hey. You weren’t supposed to be awake yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you.”

“With what?”

You pull flowers from behind your back.

“For me?” he gasps and sits up, stretching his arms out to you. 

“Yeah for you. I meant to put them on the bedside table next to you, so you’d wake up to them”, you explain as you trott to his bedside and put the flowers on their planned spot. You pout.

“But they’re so beautiful. Don’t be sad.” He assures you in a soft spoken voice, holding your hand. “I love them.”

“My surprise though. It’s ruined.”

He kisses your knuckles, “no, it’s not. It’s the most perfect surprise ever.” 

“There’s even more.”

“More?” he sounds in disbelief, following you with widened eyes as you leave again.

“Soon.”

Taehyung gazes at the flowers while he waits for your return. His heart is racing. This is such a romantic surprise and he loves these kinds of surprises.

“Eyes closed”, you announce your return.

“They’re closed.”

“And no peeking.”

“I’m not.”

He listens to you come closer again, then suddenly feels a weight on his lap.

“Okay, open them.”

Taehyung instantly gasps, eyes wide and tummy bursting in butterflies. 

“You made breakfast in bed?”

“I did.”

“Darling, oh my god. I don’t know what to say. This is…wow, it looks so yummy.”

You climb onto bed and sit down next to him, picking up a little strawberry which you tipped into whipped cream. 

“Open up.”

Taehyung takes in the strawberry with the cutest, most adorable expression, sending your heart into overdrive.

“Gosh, I have the cutest boyfriend ever”, you gush, caressing his cute little cheeks. 

Taehyung scrunches his nose giddily, leaning into your touch. His eyes are sparkling. 

“Open up. I’m feeding your adorable butt today.”

Taehyung giggles, letting it happen with a racing heart. He loves when you pamper him.

Jungkook

You and he went out with his friends last night. It got late and the two of you got drunk. He stayed over at your place, sleeping with no shirt on and his hair a total mess. Judging by how loudly he snores, he must be sleeping very well. You slept well too, despite the alcohol. Luckily for you, or perhaps because of your clever precautions of drinking lots of water, you don’t feel hungover. Just hungry. Really hungry. But you are also lazy and don’t want to leave bed. You have been staring at your boyfriend obsessively ever since you woke up.

You are so lucky. He is so handsome and he was so lovely last night. He kept close to you at all times and made sure you felt welcome with his friends by always including you in the conversation. He even borrowed you his jacket when you got cold and held your hand as you walked home. 

Jungkook snores especially loudly next to you, startling himself awake with it. He lifts his head, staring at the sheets with empty eyes.

“Good morning”, you chuckle, ruffling his hair.

“Hmhornming isf imf snorim ismsloud”, he mumbles something unintelligible and drops into the pillow again. His eyes close. His lips part. He fell back to sleep. He is so funny without even trying.

“Okay, you’re a sleepy head. Guess I gotta eat without you”, you decide and roll out of bed. 

Breakfast is prepared quickly and you return with your tray of food. You just about sat down when Jungkook lifts his head again. He is frowning sleepily, pouting.

“Good morning. Again”, you tease.

“Food?”

“Yes, this is food.”

“For me?”

“Do you want food?”

He nods his head. You already knew that he wouldn’t last long next to the smell of food, but this is a new record of how quickly he wakes from it. Doesn’t matter, you already prepared his tray in the kitchen.

“Sit up then.”

Jungkook obeys, grumbling and groaning as he does.

“Hungover?”

“Little.”

“This should help. Here we go.”

“Thanks.”

You leave the room to get his tray (which is now your tray because you gave Jungkook the first one) and return to Jungkook munching on his breakfast happily. His hair is a mess and his eyes are still puffy, but he looks happy. And a lot less hungover. 

You get on bed next to him, halting in your attempt to eat when he stubs your arm with his fingers.

He is looking at you with the puppiest puppy eyes ever.

“Yes?” 

“Did I take your food?”

“No, I planned for both of us.”

“You can have more if you want to.”

“It’s perfect for me. Just eat, baby.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Eat, baby.”

Jungkook holds your hand, “thank you for this. And for last night. I really appreciate everything you do for me and I love spending time with you.”

“I love it too, baby.”

He squeezes your hand, “and I love you.”

“Wow, you.” You and he didn’t exchange the big L-word yet. “You really mean it?”

“I mean it. A lot.”

“Kook, wow. I love you too.”

[arxiwon]

Thread: Things Boyfriend!Jungwon Does That Make You Feel So Loved

Jungwon always holds your hand in his pocket when it’s cold. He doesn’t say much, just tugs you closer and keeps you warm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He sends you voice notes instead of just texting because he knows you like hearing his voice. Sometimes, he sings softly at the end without realizing it.

When you fall asleep while studying, he quietly marks your textbook so you don’t lose your place, then drapes his hoodie over you like a blanket.

Always the type to say, “Eat well, sleep early, take care,” but then stays up late just to call and make sure you actually listened.

Laughs at his own jokes and gets pouty when you don’t laugh with him. But when you finally break and giggle, he just grins and says, “Knew you’d find me funny.”

When you get a little sad or stressed, he doesn’t force you to talk. He just pulls you into a hug, pats your back, and says, “I’m here, okay?”

If you wear his sweater, he won’t ask for it back. Ever. But he’ll definitely tease you about how good you look in it.

Stares at you like you’re the only thing that matters. When you catch him, he just smiles and says, “What? Can’t I admire my favorite person?”

Acts all confident, but if you randomly hold his face and call him handsome, his ears turn bright red.

No matter how busy he is, he always makes time for you—because to Jungwon, love isn’t about big gestures, it’s about showing up, every single day.

Bonus: If boyfriend!Jungwon was real, we’d all be in trouble.

Happy Bday Jungwon my love<3. I'll make something for his bday, please wait ^^

[nanami-is-nanamean]

Hi. I have seen a nerdjo fanart and went a little insane.

I specifically saw this art--

and like LJKHFGLKJSHLDFKhGKLSD i know its satosugu or some kind of self insert bUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY--

the thought of a nerdjo nanago where GOJO is the straightlaced person in the relationship while NANAMI is the "bad influence" rough and tough bad guy iS SO GOOD TO MEEEEEEE

BECAUSE LIKE--

we all collectively hc nanami as being some kind of emo punk in hs or at the very least got into some bullshit during his uni/college years when he got out of juju tech and this is just its Natural Conclusion OKAY-- IM NOT INSANE BUT I WILL ADMIT THAT I AM GOING FERAL

Because like-- imagine a college au where gojo and nanami are assigned to be each others tutors in their respective fields (gojo with physics and nanami in economics). Gojo is painting this picture of a mean, money focused economics student that would rather look at the stock market than entertain theoretical physics, a subject that wont really affect his life before meeting him

But then they actually meet each other for their study session for the first time and oh god gojos never felt this gay before-- other than the time that gojo discovered he was gay, dear LORD he didnt feel that bad before KJLGSDGDL

Because while yeah, nanami did show up rockin the stereotypical hoity toity econ student fit-- glasses, collared shirt, watch, shined shoes-- he didnt expect him to be built like a brick shithouse, okay. And even as he fell back on his tried and true method of getting back into focus (which is breaking things down using physics to figure out how they interact with the world), even that failed because he started wondering about the physics of fabrics and how they didnt rip yet from such huge rippling muscles

He does manage to get through the tutoring lesson safely and, thank god it was the physics lesson first because if he had to sit there listening to nanamis voice talk about literally anything for extended periods of time, he may turn into a puddle. As gojo packs up, both his materials and his thoughts that are steering WILDLY into inappropriate territory, he resigns himself into being the fushiguros babysitter for the next 3 weeks because cleaning up baby diapers are the fastest way to get rid of a boner and he cant be popping those everytime hes around nanami

So imagine gojos surprise when nanami hesitates a bit before he leaves. "Are you busy tonight?" "...what?" "Are you busy tonight." "Uhm..."

Is this it? Is his 1 to 2 hour long crush discovered? Is nanami actually straight, found out his gayness, and decided to destroy him????

"...I noticed you didn't have anything down on your planner. A friend of mine got sick, so now im kind of going alone to this concert." "...Oh! Aren't you gonna--" "Sell the ticket? No, its... not really a concert, its an underground diy venue. its more live music in a bar, than an actual concert you buy tickets to. you get to find a lot of small starting artists. its pretty good." "...so youre saying is, there's no ticket to sell?"

gojo's breath hitches, as his deep chuckle graces his ears. "yeah, no tickets." his face is warm, and he has no idea if it shows. nanamis eyes tear themselves away from wherever they roamed and met his again. "you wanna come?" "y-yeah! yeah sure, im down."

he really fumbled the delivery on that one, but thank god nanami seems to like clumsy people because that just widened the small smile on his face. "that's good. see you 8 down at the lawsons?" "8 at the lawsons, yeah sure okay--" a nod, a grin, and he walks off.

Triple Threat Tokyo Groupchat

Sight Impediment: @/Dr. House Kinnie @/The Ball Vorer help what should i wear to an underground bar Dr. House Kinnie: wtf happened on that tutoring session gay boi The Ball Vorer: what else dude, he was being gay Sight Impediment: YOU GUYS ARENT HELPING

[kittynugg]

hi i wrote some stangst

forgst

words: 1,737

p.s: REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!! credit to my pal @empressofsamoyeds (soorry for the tag) for the idea! ALSO DO NOT TAG THIS AS SHIP CONTENT. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU SHIP THEM.

Stan stepped out of the shower, shuddering as the cold air hit his skin. Like every other time he showered he was quick to towel himself off and get dressed in the first clothes he could get his hands on. So.. the clothes he’d been wearing for the past month, now? They smelled. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

The mirror was fogged up as he tied up his damp hair, but he could still see just enough of what he was doing to get it done. 

He stared at his blurry reflection. When he reached to wipe the condensation off of the surface he hesitated, his expression somehow going more blank than that numbness he’d been used to for years. That was.. Funny. He kinda looked like Ford with his hair up like that and the mirror all foggy.

No, he really looked like him.

That familiar empty feeling washed over him as he looked into the mirror, his brain filling in the blanks made by the distorted surface. A pair of glasses. A coat. The haunted look of a guy who’d seen things that shouldn’t even be possible in his eyes.

It took him a while to tear his attention away, maybe a couple of minutes, but once he did he rubbed the sting out of his eyes and left the bathroom. His “walk” had become more of a trudge in the past few weeks. He did whatever that was down the hall. Something about almost seeing his face made his feet even heavier, made the decision to get up that morning even more regrettable.

But it also gave him this weird resolve to keep going.

Maybe if he didn’t kill himself he could actually see that face. Alive, safe, maybe even happy. 

He kicked open the door to the office or study he was staying in, announcing in a sitcom-y voice, “honey, I’m home!” Then he put his hands on his hips with a distant grin. “Oh, wait! I don’t have a wife! Or a husband! I’m all alone and nobody fuckin’ loves me because the only person who ever did is god-knows-where!” An unhinged laugh bubbled up in his chest.

“..Anyway,” he flattened after finishing his manic display, then collapsed face-first into the couch he’d been ‘sleeping’ on. Nice couch. Felt like the only thing in the world that actually supported him. “But it’s an inanimate object,” Ford would say, not getting the joke. 

And then he’d say something like.. “You’re an inanimate object, nerd.” Then Ford would tell him that was wrong and that he wasn’t making any sense. Stan would just laugh at him.

Back in the real world, he shifted on the cushions to make himself comfortable. He knew just how bad the idea was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get up. Right now, he just couldn’t force himself to care. Whenever he was up, he’d be up. Wasn’t like anything was waiting for him. Ford actually wasn’t on the other side of that portal, facing whatever it was that had him terrified enough to speak to him again. 

Everything was fine. Great, even! So great that he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He heaved a muffled sigh into the couch, knowing that if he pulled his face away from it now it’d be stained with tears. Now he was fucking crying.

Pa would tell him to man up and do something about it. When he tried, his arms wouldn’t move to push him up and his legs only shifted into a more comfortable position. The couch was warm. The basement was so, so cold.

Get up.

He tried again. This time he was too lazy to move at all.

Repeating the command didn’t work. Get up.

Just get up. You need to get up so you can work on the portal so you can get Ford back so you won’t have a reason to cry anymore. Come on, this is the first step. The first step is always the hardest. Up up up. Please.

Instead of listening, his body just sighed again. Then he folded his arms under his forehead to put some space between his face and the couch and shut his eyes.

----

Eventually, he found himself blearily waking up with half of his body hanging on the couch and the rest on the floor. The very first thing that caught his eye was the light from the window glinting against Ford’s glasses, abandoned on the table where he could be reminded of why he was still kicking every time he woke up.

He peeled himself off the hardwood floor with a grunt and stood there for a moment as his shitty excuse for a brain sputtered and revved like his car when he tried to start it. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

…

Ford. Right.

A hesitant hand reached toward the glasses, and he turned them in his hand. The lenses were smudged. Ford never let his glasses get smudged. Always crystal clear or it was like he didn’t have them at all, they had to be perfect. He wondered if Ford still carried a spare on him. If he didn’t.. Shit, Stan couldn’t even imagine that. Not just being sucked into whatever nightmare he was so worried about but having to deal with it blind.

The thought of Ford, his brother, of all the people on this Earth (or.. outside of it), going through that made him sick. Maybe he should eat sometime today. Slice of toast might settle his stomach down for a bit. 

He stared down at the spectacles in his hand and shook his head, then wiped them on his shirt. Lifting them up to the window shone enough light through the lenses for him to see that they were still smudged, just.. Spread around. His shirt was dirty.

Typical, he just made it worse. A look was cast around the room, nearly untouched in the month he’d been there.  “Just fuckin’ poetic,” he whispered to himself if only to test if he even had it in him to talk. “It’s just like my life.” His eyes narrowed at the glasses. “..In a way.”

Barely resisting the urge to throw the damn thing, he set the glasses back on the table and looked toward the door. He should get to work.

He picked up the glasses again, leaving the room with the gait of someone wading in cement. 

It was the same autopilot he’d been on for ages that led him back into the bathroom. When he slipped the glasses onto his face, his vision actually cleared a little. Maybe he should look into getting an eye test sometime. 

He put up a finger and spoke in his best Ford impression, “I may be a little bookworm, but I know what I’m talking about!” The sheer accuracy of the voice made him chuckle. He sounded just like him!

When he found himself staring at his reflection again, his other hand reached for the shower. The knob creaked as he turned it to the highest temperature and he watched absently as the mirror fogged up again.

Hair was up. Glasses were on.

They really were twins..

His shoulders drooped, and after a few seconds of careful consideration he spoke up. “Hey, Poindexter.” No, that wasn’t right. Say his name. “..Ford.” 

Another pause. Then he folded his arms behind his back and spoke in that impression again. “Stanley,” he greeted himself under his breath. Something about it, something about hearing Ford’s voice and– and almost seeing his face was..

It hurt.

But it felt good. The kind of hurt that he couldn’t help but reach for, like the burn of alcohol or a cigarette. Speaking of which, he was running out. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later. Not now. He was busy right now.

“I’m, uh..” his fingertips tapped together in a subconscious tic. “Still trying to get you back, Ford.” A smile spread across his face and he gestured behind him with his thumb. “I’ve been reading your textbooks, yanno, it’s actually startin’ to make sense. It’s not as fancy and sophisticated as you had it but it’s something to show for all the work I’ve been puttin’ in..”

Arms made their way behind his back again and he straightened his posture a little. “My idiot brother, learning physics..” A wistful sigh from “Ford”. “And it only took the worst tragedy of your life to finally kickstart it.” His expression softened, and he moved to place his hand on a shoulder that wasn’t there. His fingers twitched. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Not everyone would go through this much effort for.. Anyone, really.”

He needed to hear that. From the real Ford. This was good enough for now.

“I know, yeah.. I just– I hope you’re still out there. If you’re dead, or.. worse, I don’t know what I’d do with myself, Ford. I don’t know what I’d fucking do, and–” he took in a sharp breath, running a hand down the side of his face. His nails dug into the skin. “And I’m really scared to think about it.”

Silence.

His voice cracked when he spoke again. “..I’m scared, Ford.” The glasses over his eyes and the fog fading from the mirror left him with nothing. Nothing. A reminder of just how little he had. That was it.

And Ford offered no response.

Tears dirtied the lenses of the glasses even more, so he took them off and swiped at his eyes. He set them on the rim of the sink. This was stupid. All of this was stupid. Why was he still here? Why was he still holding on?

His legs wobbled underneath him and he just.. sat on the floor and gave in. With a shaky breath, he gave his tears a moment to fall and murmured into his knees, “because you’re my brother.”

It took him a few minutes. Maybe half an hour. But eventually, Stan pushed himself up and retrieved Ford’s glasses. He rinsed them in the sink to clean the dried tears off of them and only stopped when they were spotless. Crystal clear. The way Ford liked them.

Turning to leave, he muttered, “Love you, bro.”

“I love you too, Stanley. I’m sorry for everything.”

..He already forgave him.

(note: might be a part two with ford if im feeling brave)

[torturedreid]

As Time Runs Out

-------------------------------

wc: 3312

warnings: angst, grieving

--------------------------------

The hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic scratching of Spencer’s pen on paper were the only noises in the bullpen. It was late– so late that most of the team had already gone home- but Spencer had a habit of lingering long after the office had cleared. But tonight he wasn’t alone.

You sat across from him, leaning back in your chair with a half-empty coffee mug in hand. Your presence was a comfort, self-effacing. You weren’t working, not really. You had finished your reports hours ago but stayed anyway, telling him that you still had more to do. He knew you were lying, you’d always hovered over him, worried about him constantly.

“Statistically speaking, sleep deprivation has been linked to a significant decrease in cognitive performance,” Reid said without looking up from his file. His voice was matter-of-fact but you could hear the slight smile in it.

“Is that targeted at me?” You laugh softly.

His pen stilled for a second, and he looked up, his expression sheepish. “Both of us, I suppose.”

You take a sip of your coffee, watching him with quiet amusement, “Well, you’re the genius. I’ll take your word for it.”

He paused again, then brushed a piece of his grown-out hair behind his ear. “Actually, it's not so much taking my word for it as it is taking the word of the empirical data behind the studies. For example, one study conducted by the University of California showed that even one night of no sleep dampens neural responses to decision outcomes, affecting both positive and negative emotional reactions…”

As he spoke, his words picked up speed, his enthusiasm growing with each word. You didn’t interrupt, you never did. Instead, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand, your eyes locked onto him. There was no impatience in your eyes, no feigned interest. You were truly listening, and it made Spencer’s heart ache in a way he couldn’t quite place. Anyone else would’ve sighed or rolled their eyes by now, but not you. You’re different.

“I'm rambling again, aren’t I?” He said, abruptly cutting himself off. His cheeks flushed as he looked back down at the file he was filling in, fidgeting with the corner of it. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say firmly. “I like hearing the Spencer Reid fun fact of the day.”

Spencer’s eyes glanced up to meet yours, searching for any sign of insincerity but he found none. Your gaze was steady, your body language open and warm. Your words were simple, they shouldn’t affect him in any way, but to him, it felt like sunlight breaking through the darkness.

For a moment, the silence between you felt less like an absence and more like a presence- of something under the surface, something shared.

The moment passed long ago, but it lingered in Reid’s mind well after you’d finally announced you were going home.

“You should try to rest too,” you say, pausing by his desk. “Even geniuses need to reset.”

He nodded but made no move to grab his things. You gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, you reached out and mussed his hair.

“Goodnight, Spence.”

He watched as you left, your footsteps echoing and fading into the distance. When the bullpen was silent again, he leaned back in his chair and stared at where you’d just been sitting, the warmth of your presence still remaining. He wanted to say something, to tell you how much your kindness meant to him- how much you meant to him. Yet the words seemed trapped in his throat, so instead he buried himself in his work, pretending the pit in his stomach wasn’t there at all.

One slow afternoon in the bullpen, the kind of day where the hands on the clock seem to drag painfully slowly from one hour to the next, all of the case reports had been filed and, for the first time in forever, the team wasn’t buried under an avalanche of paperwork. You were sat on the edge of Reid’s desk, a bag of mini cookies in hand, while he shuffled through a stack of books he’d signed out from the library.

“You’re really going to read all of these?” you asked, looking at the titles. “Who willingly reads a textbook on astrophysics? Let alone enjoy Victorian poetry and…philosophy? You need better hobbies.”

Reid snuck a glance at you, letting his hair fall over his face to hide his embarrassed blush, “I like variety. It keeps me engaged.”

“Engaged or distracted?” you teased, tossing a tiny cookie at his head.

He huffed out a laugh, a small shy expression that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. “Engaged. Distracted is usually when I delve into cases, actually.”

You watched as he arranged the books into neat piles, assumedly into the order he intended to read them. “You know, you could probably teach classes on any of these subjects, with an eidetic memory like yours people would line up to hear you talk.”

He froze for an almost imperceptively small second before resuming his organization. “I doubt that,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly an interesting person. I tend to ramble and get off-topic. Most people don’t have the time nor patience for that.”

“I would,” you said softly, popping another cookie into your mouth.

The words hung in the air around Spencer, simple yet far-reaching. The way you said it was like it was the most obvious thing in the world as if he were someone worth listening to.

The rest of the afternoon passed in the same slow rhythm as earlier, yet he was completely enthralled by you. You stayed at his desk, swapping quiet jokes and sharing stories from your respective lives. At one point you’d reached over to grab a book from his stack, your fingers briefly brushing his. The contact was accidental, but the jolt it sent through Reid’s chest left his heart pounding violently. 

He didn’t say anything as usual when you’d made him feel like this. He watched as you flipped through the pages of the book, your brow furrowed at the scientific phrases that you didn’t understand.

That moment made him realize what it was he’d been shielding himself from all along, he loved you, with every inch of his being.

Over the next few weeks, your friendship with Reid deepened in ways neither of you could have ever predicted. The two of you fell into a routine– late-night conversations, shared smiles over paperwork, and little jokes that broke through the chaos of work. Spencer was still Spencer, obviously– awkward and brilliant, long jumbled sentences– but you never made him feel like he was a burden. And that meant everything to him.

One evening, after a particularly taxing day in the field, you found yourselves sitting on the steps outside of the BAU. The sky was marbled in hues of oranges and pinks as the sun started to drop below the horizon.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, turning to look at him. His face was cast in the golden hour light, framing his features perfectly.

“Oh, um…nothing important,” he replied, his voice faltering.

You raised an eyebrow. “Reid, you of all people are always thinking.”

He let out a soft breathy laugh, lowering his head. “True.” He hesitated, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I was just thinking about how nice this is…just talking with you, here, watching the sunset.”

“It is nice, I love spending time with you.”

His chest tightened at your words, a feeling of longing settling into his bones. He glimpsed at you, the corners of his mouth tugging up a little. “Most people find me insufferable.”

“Well, I don’t.” You respond immediately, never one to let Spencer feel sorry for himself. His heart skipped a beat. He wanted to say it– how the way you treat him anchors him when everything feels so haywire. But instead, he sat there, letting the quiet between you fill the space where his unspoken words should have been.

“Someday you’re going to realize you’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.” You said quietly like you honestly believed it. He turned to look at you, his eyes questioning.

“You’re not just a brain, Spencer. You’re not just the boy genius. You’re thoughtful and funny and there’s so much more to you than what's on the surface.” You nudge his shoulder playfully, smiling. “You’re a good person, better than most. I hope you know that. I hope you come to see yourself how I do.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He wanted to believe you, but he couldn’t. All he’d ever been was the smart one. No one bothered asking him how he was, they only ever wanted his input in their own problems, and he never said no. He always had to live up to their expectations, telling himself it was the price to pay for being gifted. Yet you were always the beaming sun in his inner shadows, every morning you’d ask about his night, letting him prattle on about whatever book he’d read or documentary he’d stayed up watching. Still, hearing those words from you– someone he’d come to care about more than he wanted to admit– meant more to him than you could possibly know.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Anytime, smart-ass,” you replied with a grin. 

Reid smiled back, the moment etching itself into his memory like a photograph. He didn’t know if you saw him the same way he saw you– as someone who made the world brighter by just being in it– but for now, it was just enough to sit beside you, letting the weight of his unavowed feelings rest in his chest.

It was only two weeks later when everything fell apart.

You’d become a constant in Spencer’s life. His apartment felt less isolating when you were there, filling the space with companionship. Sometimes you’d swap stories– small anecdotes from your lives before you’d met, while he offered obscure facts that only he could find fascinating in response. Other times you’d sit in a comfortable silence, his tranquility only broken by the words he’d not gotten the courage to say yet.

But as Reid knew better than most, life had a way of turning constants into memories.

Hotch had called the team into the conference room, and immediately the air felt fraught with tension. His voice cut through the room like a blade as he announced the news. An accident. Senseless, unexpected. You’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now you were dead.

Spencer’s mind went blank as he struggled to register the words. The rest of the team reacted– gasps, questions, even stunned cries– but Reid stayed frozen in place, his gaze locked onto the chair you’d been sat in only a few days prior. He didn’t remember standing up or leaving the room but the next thing he knew, he was in the serenity of the BAU library, leaning against a bookcase as his legs buckled.

You were gone.

The world became empty.

The days after your death blurred together in a haze of denial and grief. He found himself replaying every memory he had of you, he remembered the way you laughed at his awkward unfunny jokes, the encouragement you’d always given him when he doubted himself, even when you’d tell the other members of the team to be quiet when they’d tried to hush his info-dumping.

What haunted him most though; was the last moments you’d shared. It was nothing special, just a passing conversation as the night had come to an end.

“Take care of yourself, Spence,” you’d said, your voice slick with tiredness yet somehow still light.

“You too,” he’d replied, distracted by the files on his desk that he now wished he’d ignored.

He hadn’t even looked up.

Now the memory echoed in his mind like a cruel reminder of everything he’d never said. He tortured himself with every tiny thing he could– no– should have told you, and all of the ways he should have shown you how much you meant to him.

The regret was unendurable. He’d shut down. No longer did he ramble about facts and theories, he’d stopped sharing his thoughts with the team. He withdrew into himself, leaving the office as fast as he could at the end of his shift, he couldn’t face staying later than absolutely necessary without you, knowing that every night for the past few months you’d both been in your own little world at his desk. Meals became yet another afterthought, and sleep was a luxury he didn’t allow himself.

But you can’t hide from a team of profilers, and inevitably the team noticed. Morgan tried to pull him out of it with his trademark jokes and teasing. JJ offered a shoulder to cry on, leaving coffee cups on his desk every morning in an attempt to get him to notice she was there. Even Hotch, with his usual mask of stoicism, had pulled him aside one afternoon to try to get him to attend a session with the BAU-assigned therapist. But none of the attempts prevailed. In his mind, he didn't think he deserved comfort, not after he’d failed to be there for you when you’d needed it most. Not when he’d let this happen to you.

It was a week after your funeral when he’d be forced to face his feelings head-on.

He’d been sorting through the backlog of files on his desk when he’d come across a post-it underneath some obscure Theoretical Physics book, and he’d immediately recognized your handwriting. His breath caught in his throat and the tears he’d been holding back all day came racing to the surface, his hands were trembling as he peeled it off of the desk. At first, the words blurred together, his eyes swimming with the unshed tears but as he blinked them away, your voice seemed to come alive in the words you’d written:

Spence, you don’t always say how you feel, but I see you. You care more deeply than anyone I’ve met. Stop hiding yourself. You’re more than enough– exactly as you are.

Lots of love.

He felt silly as he clutched the Post-it to his chest, but his worries were pushed aside as a choked sob escaped his lips. The weight of your permanent absence hit him like a tsunami, overwhelming and inescapable. But somewhere beneath the grief, there was something else– something warm and bittersweet.

You had seen him. Seen him better than anyone ever had. Even when he couldn’t find the words, you’d seen how he’d felt. While he’d never have the chance to say it aloud, he now had a piece of you– even in the minuscule form of your writing– the words a reminder of the connection you’d shared.

For the first time since the news was broken, Reid allowed himself to cry. Not just for the loss of you, but for the love he’d never been brave enough to express.

It was late, the kind of late where even the most dedicated agents had gone home. Reid remained at his desk, the first night he’d stayed behind since the last time with you. His hands picked at the corners of the post-it, which he now carried with him whenever he needed a reminder that, even though you were gone, your warmth still stayed. The words you’d written were etched into his mind, looping endlessly: You’re more than enough– exactly as you are. 

He had barely put the note down since he found it. The paper was now worn at the edges, crumpled from his tight grip. The world beyond his desk felt distant. All he could hear was the laughs you’d shared at this very spot, the same laugh that cut through his darkest days, now replaced with an unbearable silence.

Footsteps broke the stillness, the heavy yet purposeful gait meant Reid didn’t even need to look up. He already knew who it was. 

“Hey, kid,” Morgan's voice flooded the room cautiously. He approached slowly, almost like he was afraid of startling Spencer. Noting how his shoulders were slumped, his hair disheveled, and how his hands traced over the writing on the note like it was the only thing grounding him. “You’ve been here all night.”

It didn’t feel right to Spencer that Morgan was taking up the space by his desk that was almost exclusively reserved for you. His eyes fixed on the paper in his hands as though he could will you back into existence if he just focused hard enough. Morgan pulled up a chair, sitting down without another word, his expression solemn but patient.

Finally, after a long silence, Reid spoke, “I thought I had more time.” Morgan frowned, waiting for Spencer to expand upon his brief confession.

Reid swallowed, his throat tight as the words flowed out of him in a broken rush. “I thought I could tell her someday, I thought there’d be another chance, but there never will be. She died without knowing…”

He trailed off as his voice cracked, he gritted his teeth, lip trembling as he fought against every part of him that was screaming to fall apart.

“Reid,” Morgan said gently, “What didn’t you say?”

“Everything.” He whispered in response, “That she was the best thing that happened to me in years. That when she was around I felt alive. I feel like I can’t breathe now…I was just so afraid to say anything.”

Morgan reached out, resting a firm but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Listen, kid. I’ve been around you two enough to know this– she knew. Okay? She didn’t need you to say it out loud to know the truth.”

Reid sighed and shook his head, his eyes glistening. “But what if she didn’t? What if she thought she was just another person to me? What if she didn’t know how much I cared?”

Morgan’s grip on Spencer’s shoulder tightens slightly, trying to pull him back to the present instead of the dark place he was spiraling to. “Reid, the way you looked at her, the way you talked to her…anyone with eyes could see how much she meant to you. And knowing her? She saw it too. I promise you, she knew.”

That was the breaking point. Reid let out a shuddering breath as the dam inside of him burst. Grief-ridden tears came in a torrent, the sobs wracking his body until his throat was raw. Nothing could fill the void you’d left behind.

Morgan didn’t say anything more for a while. He simply pulled Reid into a steady embrace. Reid clung to him desperately, his sobs muffled by Morgan’s shoulder. It was the kind of grief that words couldn’t soothe, the kind that could only be withstood through time. For the first time since you’d been taken from Spencer, he allowed himself to feel the full depth of his sorrow, and the guilt that came with it. Morgan’s hold reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

Eventually, Spencer pulled back, wiping at his tear-stained face with the sleeve of his sweater. He briefly glanced at the worn Post-it, he didn’t need to read the words, he already knew them by heart. Morgan offered a final encouraging smile before leaving him alone in the bullpen, knowing he needed time to process. The ache in Reid’s chest was still there, sharp and unrelenting but Morgan’s words played heavily: She knew.

In the solitude of the now-empty room, Reid closed his eyes, his fingers stroking the edges of the paper, “I hope you knew,” he murmured, hoping that wherever you were you’d hear him. “I loved you. I hope you knew.”

The silence that followed seemed lighter than anything had within the past few weeks.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Nerd gojo x nerd reader! Headcanons

Nerd!Gojo x Nerd!You Headcanons

♡ Gojo Satoru, the prodigy. The guy who solves complex math problems in his head like it’s a simple 2+2. If someone ask him how, he’ll just smirk and say, “Just run your mind faster.” As if that makes sense.

♡ Gojo, the last-minute genius. He does his assignments at the last possible second but still gets a perfect score. People have accused him of using black magic. He doesn’t deny it.

♡ Gojo, the overanalyzer. Someone calls him a know it all as a joke, and next thing they know, they’re stuck listening to a 30-minute breakdown of why intelligence is subjective and how human perception affects knowledge.

♡ Gojo, the human stopwatch. He calculates the exact time people take to do the most random things:

Shoko takes exactly 3.2 seconds to process a joke before laughing.

Suguru sniffs his food for 2.6 seconds before deciding if it’s poisoned.

His teacher blinks an average of 18 times per minute when lecturing.

♡ Gojo, the walking encyclopedia. He acts like he knows everything psychology, physics, chemistry, math. Whether he actually does or not is debatable, but he’ll never admit he’s wrong.

♡ Gojo, the fact machine. He drops random trivia constantly, just to flex. “Did you know honey never spoils?” “Gojo, no one cares.”

♡ Gojo, the exam escape artist. He drags Suguru out to do something totally unproductive before exams, but somehow still tops the class while Suguru barely passes. Suguru has stopped questioning it.

♡ Gojo, the romance skeptic. Laughs in the face of love at first sight, listing the exact probability of it happening.

♡ Gojo, the worst date ever. He once explained The Art of War on a date. The girl left before dessert. He still doesn’t know why.

♡ Gojo, the secret romance reader. He totally didn’t get caught reading a romance novel in the library. And he totally didn’t like it.

Then, there’s you.

♡ You, the transfer student. No expression. No reaction. The class went dead silent when you walked in, as if even breathing would be too loud. The teacher praised you, and you just nodded like it didn’t matter.

♡ You, Gojo’s accidental rival. Sitting next to him was a nightmare. He asked the most stupid questions, and you ignored all of them. He assumed you were just an edgy wannabe. That made him laugh.

♡ You, the real threat. When exam results came out, Gojo was shook. For the first time, he wasn’t the top scorer. You were. And your reaction? A shrug. No smile, no satisfaction. That’s when you became interesting.

♡ Gojo, the forced study partner. He forced the teacher to make you his partner. You weren’t amused.

“Why do I need to do practicals if I already know the answer?” you questioned

“To see if it’s true or not, dummy.” He grinned, waiting for your response.

“If it’s in the book, it’s already true.” He had never wanted to strangle someone and marry them at the same time before.

♡ Gojo, the doomed fool. No one ever entertained his nerdy ramblings, but you? You matched his energy. When you started debating him on his own topics, he knew he was done for.

♡ Gojo, the AI skeptic. He swears you talk like a robot.

“That’s not an effective method.”

“This is scientifically incorrect.”

“Are you a government experiment?”

♡ Gojo, the challenge seeker. He constantly challenged you to competitions. You refused every time. “Not interested in unnecessary drama.” That hurt his soul.

♡ Gojo, the frustrated observer. He needed to see a crack in your facade. Anything. He studied your every move, trying to prove you weren’t an AI.

♡ Gojo, the mimic. He caught you muttering the pi table to regain focus. He immediately adopted the technique.

♡ Gojo, the sore winner. If he scored higher than you, he wasn’t happy he was annoyed. What’s the point if you don’t even care?

♡ Gojo, the reluctant believer. He told you about his hobbies with way too much excitement. You told him about yours, but your blank expression made him question if you were lying.

♡ Gojo, the paranoid calculator. He tried analyzing your movements, but everything about you was too precise. It freaked him out.

♡ Gojo, the not-so-subtle spy. Since you lived next to Suguru, he used that as an excuse to observe you. Every time he saw you, you were either studying or staring out the window like a lifeless statue. You caught him multiple times. Instead of yelling, you just stared at him. It was terrifying.

♡ Gojo, the insecure nerd. He nervously brought up Dungeons & Dragons, expecting you to be clueless. Instead, you knew everything. He had never felt average before.

♡ Gojo, the desk menace. He constantly poked you during class, hoping for any reaction. You just stared at him, unblinking, until he became flustered and left.

♡ Gojo, the insane conversationalist. He told you the wildest theories, and you listened like it was just another casual conversation. It drove him insane.

It took me 4 days to think of a gojo nerd scenerio 😭

And you GUYS HAVE TO REQUEST DO IT

Part 2 will be here

@naomigojo

[glamourscat]

MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND | FEM! SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER pt2

Since you can remember, from the first moment you saw Ryu, you knew she was going to be the biggest nuisance in your life, yet, at the same time, the very subject that torments your dreams at night. It was no secret: the girl was attractive. She knew it, you knew it, even your grandma knew it. Everyone knew. It was simply a fact.

With her long, slightly wavy blonde hair and those hot pink dyed strands. The way she swings her hips just a bit when she walks. Her confidence is utterly magnetic. The way she loves pampering herself, from skincare to manicures and spa days. The way she looks like she owns every room she steps into. And you’re utterly, stupidly, obsessed with it.

You can’t keep your eyes off her. And it’s getting embarrassing.

At night, your mind flashes back to those memories in Shibuya before the start of the Third Selection, when she dragged you to a bar simply because, why not? You had no idea what you were walking into. Good music. A lively atmosphere. People are so comfortable in their own skin, flaunting flamboyant outfits and sparkling makeup. And, in a way, you felt a twinge of jealousy because she fit so seamlessly into it all.

Her hips swayed to the rhythm as she danced with some girl in the middle of the dance floor, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

That should be me.

That’s the only thought in your mind. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? You two are nothing but friends and even that’s a stretch. Maybe rivals with… what? Occasional sparks of friendship? Still, this is ridiculous. The way—never mind.

That night, you two had probably the worst fight since meeting. The words exchanged were heavy, both on your side and hers. She had followed you outside while you tried to escape the images and thoughts plaguing your mind.

Once back in Blue Lock, she acted like nothing had happened. And you did the same.

But you never really forget those words. They still linger, creeping up in the worst and most excruciating moments inside this damned prison.

"Earth to Y/N… are you even listening to me?"

Shidou waves her hand in front of your face, eyebrows furrowed in what you think is concern.

"Hm? Yeah—sorry, I just spaced out," you mumble, your voice quiet as you go back to washing your hair, pretending not to be affected by her damned breasts so close to you. Not the right time nor place for being a boob person. Why does she have to shower next to me anyway? There are, like, twenty showers and she always picks the one beside me.

"You sure?" she asks, studying your face. "I mean, I know I’m hot, but you don’t have to be so flustered about it," she teases sarcastically, letting the warm water run over her body.

And you can’t help but let your eyes run over the tanned skin. The hint of abs, those stretch marks that looked like the final touch from an artist trying to add that hint of something to their work. The way her breasts were so full and perky. Her thighs, full and squishable. Strong and muscular from playing football and long. Her blonde bush– enough. 

"Yeah, whatever you say," you reply quickly, too quickly, too quietly, as you try to rush out of the shower before she could notice your flustered expression. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

What the hell was that?

"What the fuck is actually wrong with you?" Her voice is too loud, way angrier than she probably intended. But Shidou is pissed. She shuts off the shower, staring at you in disbelief in the empty bathroom as you wrap a towel, one that’s way too small, around your body.

"What?" Your voice is laced with irritation. She doesn’t like that.

"This. You. One moment we’re fine, and the next, you’re pissing me off with this—this shutting down bullshit. What the fuck is wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing, it’s not—"

"Then why are you running off?" Shidou snaps.

"Would you just leave me alone?" you snap back.

A moment of silence.

You two stare at each other, breathing heavily. Unspoken words linger in the space between you. 

"You wanna know what my problem is?" you say quietly, teeth gritted.

"It’s you. You and your stupid fucking personality. You make me wanna go crazy, but at the same time, I can’t live without it. I’m—tired. Sick and tired of your fucking attitude. You’re a thorn in my side and yet I keep pushing it in because maybe I’m a masochist and enjoy the pain. Because maybe—I wanna feel desired, because I feel something and this—this doesn’t make sense. Like you’re playing a—"

"Fuck me, you’re truly more blind than I thought."

Before you can reply, her still drenched and very much naked body presses against you, arms on your waist, forehead against yours. Lips so close you can feel her warm breath ghosting over your skin.

"I literally said, ‘Let’s make out under the shower’ earlier." Shidou's voice is quiet, slightly annoyed.

"You were playing aroun—"

"I wasn’t," she snaps. "For fuck’s sake… I wasn’t. I keep throwing hints at you. What more can I do? I keep offering you massages, to read my favorite manga together and I literally told you earlier that we should make out. How much clearer do I need to be?"

You look up at her, speechless. A little unsure. Your eyes sting with a hint of tears. Damn, you are stupid.

"I—I’m sorry," you whisper, your voice cracking.

"What are you apologizing for?" she whispers back, pink eyes locked onto yours.

"I… don’t know. For being a blind idiot?"

Ryu chuckles, her scowl from earlier softening into a smile.

"Sure. You’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot."

"… "

"Too cheesy?" she asks, trying to fight back a laugh.

"Too cheesy," you admit, smiling softly.

The tension from before disappears as she looks at you and you look at her. 

“So… about that make out session..?” she says suggestively moving her eyebrows, grinning. 

Yeah, you’re an idiot. An idiot who’s foolishly, madly and unapologetically in love with a girl. Your girl. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

07. the big back duo makes a comeback

going out with jeno felt just like how y'all used to when y'all were younger. jeno was your best friend in high school. y'all would hang out constantly. always studying together or causing chaos during lunch. even though y'all hadn't seen each other in so long, you knew that y'all would be able to click again immediately.

"so why'd you wanna meet up? it was kinda out of nowhere." you asked, as you took a sip of your water.

jeno scratched the back of his head and couldn't look in your eyes. "i just missed you. we haven't seen each other in awhile. i didn't want to lose our friendship." he finally met your eyes and did that charming smile that he always does.

"ewww, why are you being so sappyyy." you groaned, while covering your face with your hands. jeno grabs your hands and lifts your head up. "cut the crap, jeno. this is so weird. what's really going on."

"what? i can't want to catch up with an old friend? i just wanna know what's going on with you. i heard you were staying with jaehyun at his apartment and rooming with mark."

you were in the middle of taking a bite of your food before you let out a loud groan. "ugh, don't get me started on that." you wiped your mouth with your napkin.

"why, what's so wrong with it?" jeno asked, scooting closer to the edge of his seat.

"well, why would i want to share a room with the guy that literally injured me before i could even start my volleyball career. he just keeps doing too much and it's annoying." you huffed, as you leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

"has it ever occurred to you that maybe he feels guilty? look, i know the guy and i know his persona is very 'fuck-boy' vibes, but he's not a horrible person. he really just wants things to be peaceful between you too."

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. "jeno, i did not come here to listen to you tell me that mark lee is ACTUALLY a good person. i don't want to be here if this is all i'm going to be listening to." you were getting ready to get your stuff before jeno stopped you.

"yn, listen. i understand that you don't trust people easily, i know. just hear me out and give him a chance. i'm not telling you to be best friends with him. i'm just saying he's really not a bad guy to be around."

"you know why i don't trust people, jeno. you out of all people should know." you glared and pushed his hand off you. the topic was really sensitive to you. you hated talking about it. you felt your body tense up and felt heat spreading everywhere inside of you.

"i'm sorry, okay. you guys are both of my friends and i just want peace between y'all. you know i wouldn't be saying all of this if mark was a bad person."

"i know. i'm sorry too. i've just worked so hard and he took that away from me." you mumbled into jeno's shoulder, before pulling away to look up at him.

"just give it some thought. you're okay. everything is okay."

previous — m.list — next

notes. another fast update! i was feeling a little excited, so yay! also jeno and yn’s friendship 🙌

taglist. open! @mmjhh1998 @haluenx @urlocalbeaner5 @cloudmrk @dudekiss3r @iluv7tn @jae-n0 @kikookii @remgeolli @lyleo @wumutititititi @kittydollzz @nctdreamchaser

[authorsofghosts]

Oxytocin Overload | Hank McCoy x Reader

Author's Note: hear me out....

Summery: After Hank left the lab to join the X-Men, you felt slightly disheartened, like a part of your soul had left. That's when you realized you were in love with the shy, strange nerd.

Themes: 2 Nerds In Love, Already Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, Work Place Romance (kinda), Awkward Hank AND Awkward Reader, A Little Projection, Charles Cameo (kind of a main character ngl), Charles hatred (I love him tho), Disability rep (Charles Xavier I hate you <3), takes place between First Class and Apocalypse, Hank technically kidnaps the Reader (it's for their own good), Reader is a Mutant (no powers specified)

Word Count:

You're on autopilot, on your way back to your lab after talking to probably the most arrogant and ignorant person in the whole building. You're met, head first, with a hard chest of someone you didn't even see because you were currently ten hundred miles away.

"Oh- sorry, uh-" You start, looking up and seeing probably to best news all day. "Hank?"

"Hey." He chuckles out, his signature awkward smile on his face, hand fixing his glasses. "You know, when I came back here I thought you'd be long gone. It's been a while."

You look up at him, blinking slowly as you try to see if this was real or not. Your former work bestie is back after God knows how long. "Yeah, no, I'm still- I'm still here." You laugh, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?"

You look down, noticing he's in a lab coat. Strange. He's also, like, a good few inches taller and more muscular. Even stranger.

"Ah, uh... I was, uh... well I... I'm not supposed to be here, actually?" He laughs, looking at you with a completely serious face. "You know what? You should stay by my side while I uh- do the thing I'm not supposed to be doing." He stammers slightly, grabbing your hand and starting to walk.

You're taken aback, mouth agape as you start walking in turn with him. The way his voice was completely serious and how fast he's walking...

"What are you not supposed to be doing, Hank?"

"Grabbing some of my old research. Nothing, like, illegal, I hope." He laughs slightly, then stops talking for a second before turning to you, "Wait- you- okay never mind, I'll ask later." He grumbles, his pace doubling as he pulls you along with him.

Before you know it, you're half way across the building and out of place. Hank walks in an extremely stiff way that makes you almost feel like he's not the same guy you would go and drink with after work, or make jokes with when comparing studies. He's almost completely changed, except for his sweat palms whenever he got close to you, or touched you. And he's holding your hand still, making it quite obvious.

He pulls you into a room, "Stay by the door, alright?" He asks, biting down on the inside of his lip, walking further into his old lab, which has now collected a layer of dust so thick, every surface was painted a slight gray.

You watch as he looks around his lab, suddenly stopping before turning to a drawer and opening it. He mumbles under his breath before walking to you, putting the files in your hand. "Here. You where already carrying one so, it'll look fine. You're uh, not coming back here"

"What?" You ask, taken aback slightly.

"Whatever you're studying, I can help you back at my lab. I think it's best if you came to the School with me and we-" He pauses, the air hissing as he sucks it between his teeth. "I can explain later, we have to go, now." He takes your hand again and steps out the room, walking at almost a humanly impossible speed, your feet barely able to keep up.

Before you know it, Hank has you outside the building and into a rental car. you go to speak but are met with a voice in your head. "Hi, this must be scary. Listen, everything is going to be okay, I just need you to, uh... go to sleep." And then you do.

The man with the English accent's voice become slower and you wake up, laying on a couch somewhere else. You sit up immediately, looking around. You see a man sitting at a desk across the room, fingers knitted together as he looks at you. "Hello." He says, the same voice you heard earlier.

"Uh- hi?" You manage to get out. "Where am I?"

"You, my friend, are at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." He smiles, standing up. He grips the desk slight as he does so, seemingly slightly uneasy.

You get up and immediately walk over to him, feeling an impulse to help him. "What's that? Are you okay? Where's Hank?" You say, all these questions falling from you mouth before you can even realize you've sat this stranger on the couch you woke up on.

"Thank you, uh... Those are questions I have answers to, but I want to ask you something first." He says, studying over you. He takes a deep breath. "My name is Charles Xavier, and you might be?"

You introduce yourself, tilting your head slightly as you feel a sudden urge to tell him anything. So you do. You tell him your name, and where you work and stuff that he probably already knows if he knows Hank.

"Great, now that we're acquainted, can you tell me about your powers?" He asks almost too casually, especially with information you've never told any one.

"Wh- Powers? I don't-" You start, but he puts up his hand.

"No need to lie, you're in safe company." Charles says, but quickly looking towards the door right before it opens. "Hank." He smiles.

You look over at the door and see Hank, a box in hand. "It's time for the serum, isn't it?" He chuckles, placing it on the next and taking out a syringe."

"Yes, it is, thank you, bud." Charles says, waving his hand at him.

Hank looks at you, flashing a quick smile before rolling up Charles sweater and pressing the needle into his skin. Of course, you don't watch, shielding your eyes slightly. "Okay, well, uhm... let me know how you feel in five minutes, okay?" Hank asks before looking at you. "Hi. I'm sure there are a lot of questions-"

"Yeah. A lot." You say bluntly, standing up and looking at Charles for a moment and then back at Hank.

"I can answer them, I promise, just uh- You okay, Charles?"

"Peachy, yeah." The other man says, nodding and waving a dismissive hand. "Go talk to your friend, I'm just gonna... lay here."

Hank laughs, making sure Charles is in an okay position before gesturing to the door. You both walk out and he closes the door softly. You look around at the rather lavish hallway, eyes wide. "Hank, where did you bring me-"

"A school, mansion-turned-school, rather. Uh, for people like us." He says. "You have powers, and so do me and Charles. It's a lot to take in at first, knowing there are other people like you-"

"You have powers?!" You say, taking a step back. "What, are you like- what the hell am I talking about, this is crazy." You sigh loudly, walking in a direction away from the room, looking around for some kind of exit. "I don't have powers, Hank." You state bluntly.

"But you do. And so do I, I mean..." He sighs,stepping in front of you. "It's a little scary, you know? I don't want to scare you. Okay?"

You look at him for a moment, confused, until he pulls a small knife from his pocket and pressing it against himself, just softly. And before you can even process what's happening, Hank's skin turns blue, and so does his hair. His eyes are yellow and he gets a little bit broader. You watch in, not horror, but amazement.

"Woah- Cool."

"See? Now, show me what you can do." He laughs softly, putting the knife back in his pocket and rubbing at the small wound from the prick.

"Yeah- Uh- no." You shake your head. "This is... a lot to take in, uh... maybe we can talk about it over... dinner? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"Friday?"

"Valentine's Day."

"Oh. Then maybe not tomorrow... unless...?"

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[paging-possum]

The more things change the more they stay the same

[wonder-worker]

A.J Pollard’s biography on Edward IV was so cringe lol (generic; minor but frustrating inaccuracies; intensely judgmental at times and oddly dismissive at others while never considering the broader context; entirely diminished and trivialized Elizabeth Woodville as both queen and wife of his main subject in the name of "defending" her; created a false dichotomy between Edward and Henry VII’s styles of ruling and lauded the latter at the former’s expense even though Henry literally followed Edward’s example for the very things Pollard was criticizing Edward for; had a downright nonsensical and thoroughly misleading conclusion about Edward’s legacy & Richard’s usurpation that was based entirely on hindsight, Pollard's own assumptions, and the complete downplaying Richard’s agency and actions to emphasize what Pollard wrongly and misleadingly claimed were Edward's so-called 'failings', etc, etc)

I wanted to buy his book on Henry V but after reading this shitshow and the synopsis of that book, im guessing it's going to be 10x worse, so...no thanks

[charmre]

It's too kind of you to say you can help but there's no one around who can save me from myself

[con-clavi-con-jae]

Recently passed a chemistry exam

Thank you Vessel for teaching me that she's not acid not alkaline

[carbonbasedmatter]

they should give you a minimum 20 years after coming back from school to rest and process everything that happened