#i can't read the last two pages

[anovergrowngarden]

writing with a fountain pen with a notebook beats every other writing software I have ever tried.

there is nothing quite so visceral as my pen suddenly dripping ink everywhere as I’m panic-dabbing it off and trying to re-read my handwriting. it stokes the fires of creativity.

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[bobbinalong]

i just cannot stand the way bendis writes. if 40% of the page is covered in speech bubbles, maybe cut down the fucking dialogue, dear god

[sketchy-potato]

I just threw my book on the couch and it bounced off and both my bookmarks flew out.

WHAT GOD DID I UPSET FOR THIS TO HAPPENED??? IT WAS LIKE THE PERFECT ANGLE, WHAT DID I DO???

[sehtoast]

me: MY HAIRLINE IS RECEDING OH NO OH FUCK

also me: full time student (worth noting i wrote stupid here at first without realizing), 20-30 hours in customer service every week, teaching myself 3/4 classes, teaching myself advanced algebra with a teacher (basically just a proctor) who shuts down any/all asks for help, juggling college financial woes, navigating dying relationships/people abandoning and/or attacking me bc i don't have time for things i used to anymore, none of my hobbies are making me happy when and if i have time for them,, i have no time for myself, i'm on my second all-nighter this week, i'm perpetually exhausted in a way sleep isn't fixing, my body aches because i'm so tired, and i'm barely able to stay asleep when i do get the chance bc the anxiety wakes me up

my hairline: two hops this time!

[byanyan]

the amount I've been hoarding away some of the memes I've seen on the dash over the last week or so is so not okay for someone with as many drafts as me ashfjdh

[faithfulcat111]

I really am regretting decisions make by me three weeks ago. I really should have bought that Euripedes plays collection book while I was at the bookstore.

[britneyshakespeare]

You know the Riverside Shakespeare 1973 was not a comfortable book to read sitting on your lap or lying down in bed but the RSC Complete Works Second Edition 2022 is noticeably worse. The difference in size isn't very significant; the RSC uses a different kind of paper but I'm not sure it's even thinner (they're both very thin, somewhat see-through paper) (not because they're cheap, but because it's more practical, considering these are unwieldy tomes exceeding 2000 pages). But since the RSC doesn't have double-column text on the pages like most Complete Works do, the extra margin space given requires somewhat more pages for the text. I'm not gonna check exactly (these are searchable though), but if the Riverside is about 2000 pages, then the RSC is about 2500. You'd think I had managed enough comfort with the Riverside over the years that the adjustment wouldn't be that terrible. No, it's terrible.

[yeagersss]

"North or south." You spoke up to your husband who was lounging next to you on the sofa with a book on his lap. Sukuna frowns.

"What utter nonsense are you reading now?"

You look up from an article you were reading on your phone and pout. "It's not nonsense! It says here that when a person dies, they have two choices. They can choose south to stay the same or choose north if they want to start anew." You grin.

"What do you think you chose in your last life, 'Kuna?"

The man grunts at that question, flipping a page of his book.

"South, obviously."

You snort. "I doubt that."

Sukuna finally looks up and raises a brow. "And why is that? I'm sure I was a king living in nothing but luxury and obviously chose to relive that life again." He says with a smirk, gesturing around the huge penthouse you two lived in.

You roll your eyes. "Oh, please."

"Oh really? And what do you think I was like in this so called past life of mine, brat?"

You grin cheekily, leaning closer to the man and wrapping an arm around his bicep. "Well, knowing you, you were probably this demon who struck fear in people's hearts and then you met me and realized that there's more to life than being a big meanie and chose a different path."

Now it was Sukuna's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, woman. Stop reading those bullshit romance novels already."

"Also you probably had four arms or some shit."

"Are you trying to piss me off here?"

---

One thousand years ago, the King of Curses, covered in blood from his recent massacre, looks on at a young maiden sitting by the river reading a scroll and petting a cat curled up next to her.

A serene smile graces your soft features. Your eyes are filled with warmth and life. The sunlight accentuates your beauty in his eyes.

For the first time in his life, the feared king turns away and spares a human from his merciless killing.

And as he walks back to his estate, he can't stop himself from thinking about your light.

[siriuslylantsov]

sobriquet

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, kissing and all around domesticity, bit cheesy, little teasing, spencer gets momentarily overwhelmed with how much he feels but i dont get into the nitty gritty.

a/n: sobriquet is the french word for nickname. anywho i just need spencer reid to call me angel. hope you like this! happy reading :)

wc: 1.3k

◦ /ˈsəʊbrɪkeɪ/ ◦

the bright noon sun filters through the sheer curtains as you wake up, groggily pulling yourself into a sitting position. you rub at the sleep in your eyes with a low grumble. the space beside you is vacant, you run a hand over the spencer shaped chasm indented into the mattress. it's gone cold so you assume he's been up for a while, having let you sleep in, probably perched on the couch, book in hand.

you drag yourself into the living room of spencer's apartment, despite the daylight scattered across the space, it still feels cosy, relentlessly cosy. which is probably why you spend so much time here, like you are now. a rare case-free weekend off presented itself to the team, so the two of you decided on spending a lazy 2 days together.  

you bend at the waist and wrap your arms around spencer's shoulders when you find him on the couch. he lets out a slightly distracted hum, pressing his lips to your forearm in a kiss, though it's more open mouthed as you catch him in the middle of reading a passage. you squeeze him once and walk to the kitchen. he follows you, needing a refill to his coffee.

both of you work in silence, spencer engrossed in the pages in front of him as the moka pot heats up on the stove while you grab the carton of milk from the fridge. when you open the cabinet for the box of cereal that resides there, you don't find it. strange. you open the one beside it in hopes that you'd find it there, you don't.

“baby, where's the cereal?” you ask spencer, peering behind boxes and packets for a glimpse of the tell-tale red of the kelloggs logo.

his eyes dart up from his book, finally tearing away from the words. did you just call him baby?

you push up from your knees, turning to look at him expectantly, “spencer?”

his eyes are wide, eyebrows pinched up ever so slightly that a line forms in the middle, you want to smooth it out. he looks alarmed, so you cross over to him, taking the book out of his hands and setting it on the counter, turning off the heat to the stove at the same time.

“hey, are you okay?” your voice is low so as to not alarm him further, but still pressing to know what’s wrong.

apart from the alarm, his face is unreadable. “what did you just say?”

you graze a hand over his forearm, “are you okay?”

“no. before that.”

“um... where's the cereal? spencer, are you-”

“you called me baby,” he interjects. barely a whisper but you catch it.

oh. your lips part, trying to get a read on his face, you can't. “did i?” you respond meekly, playing dumb in case he didn't like it. the two of you haven't experimented with nicknames much, the relationship being fairly new and only used to addressing eachother by first or last names.

he nods, lips curling into a small smile. oh. “say it again?”

you want to protest but he's quick to stop you with a “please.”

“baby,” you chew your bottom lip nervously, searching for any recoil in his eyes, you find none. his smile only grows.

“again.”

“spence,” you whine, feeling embarrassed.

“please,” he repeats, eyes big and imploring.

you sigh, how do you possibly deny him? chagrin be damned.

“baby,” you whisper, almost cooing, as you raise a hand to cup his cheek.

teeth peek out of his mouth now, grinning wholeheartedly. his arms find solace around your waist as he pulls you in, tucking his head into your neck. you can feel his smile on your skin, and you giggle.

“i take it you like it then?” you murmur, threading your fingers into his hair the back of his head.

he presses a kiss to your neck. “of course i do, angel,” he responds, words trailing off tentatively.

angel. your brain runs circles around the way the word sounded coming from him, how good it sounded, angel. in a matter of seconds, he’d managed to turn the tables and you understand why he reacted how he did when you called him baby, you wouldn't mind him calling you angel again either.

you pull back to look at his face. he's a shy and sheepish thing when you take him in. your face isn't as unreadable as his was, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled at the corners as you try to bite back a smile, so he calms easily. 

“that's new,” you remark, poking at his chest.

“yeah,” he says, pulling you closer as he leans against the counter. “you like it?”

“mhm,” you hum giddily, rising on your toes to kiss him. 

his lips move against yours gently as he kisses you back. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. you nip it before pulling back.

“i've got morning breath,” you explain simply, alleviating his confusion.

he's indifferent when he leans back in, “does it look like i care?”

you give him a quick peck on the nose before exhaling a puff of hot air into his face, trying to drum up as much bad breath as you can. you laugh as his face scrunches up in mild disgust, nose wrinkled, and lips pulled into a pout. he's quick to recover though, head dipping to kiss you again. sighing into the kiss, you push his face from yours and hide under his chin. his arms move higher and wrap across your shoulders.

“in the hallway,” spencer says abruptly.

you hum into his chest in confusion, and he explains further, “the cereal is in a bag in the hallway. i finished the last of it earlier and went to go buy some more.”

“you went grocery shopping? just for cereal?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, but he can make out what you're saying.

“yeah, gotta make sure my angel is fed,” he murmurs into your hair that tickles his chin.

you groan a little at how corny he sounds but bury further into him regardless, clearly flustered. he huffs out a chuckle at your state.

“oh don't be so smug,” you grumble, lifting your head up to look at him. god was he pretty.

“angel,” he drags out, almost taunting, but inherently laced in affection. he can't help it, you are an angel personified to him, the name was only fitting. and it wasn't often that you were on the tail end of the teasing, so he's making sure to take advantage of whatever was making you all giddy as if you couldn't do the same thing to him tenfold. 

when he sees the glint in your eyes though, he knows you're about to. he braces himself internally as you hold his face with two soft hands, cradling him. he shifts slightly to kiss your palm, admittedly trying to avoid your gaze. 

“beautiful,” you start, and he's already done for, turning his head further into your hand. you're not having it, so you bring him back to you, firmer grip this time but fingers still as soft as before. “perfect,” you continue, words also firm, “angel boy.” 

you seem to have rendered him silent, an easy thing for you to do because it's you, chipping away at any and all words he had stored simply because of what you called him. it's unbelievable that a mere nickname could reduce him to this–he’ll be sure to try it on you later. but for now, he just hugs you again, dropping his head back into your neck and arms around your waist. yours loop around his neck, rooting his head where it is. 

your fingers press into his scalp, massaging lightly. you continue murmuring little things into the silence, turning your head so he hears you better. angel, baby, genius boy, pumpkin, sweet cheeks, shnookums. 

his head lifts up, bewildered, “shnookums?”

“hey! i don't know what you're into,” you lean back in surrender, hoping to bring some humour into this because frankly, he was overwhelmed, and you knew.

he lets out a low chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours and you melt sleepily against him.

“i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too, angel girl.” 

m.list | reblogs and replies are appreciated!

[lilacgaby]

6:21 a.m

husband!bakugo experiences one moment of what you deal with everyday with your kids.

you were currently cuddled into katsuki's chest, fast asleep.

in between taking care of your newborn son and your toddler daughter, he knew you were exhausted out of your mind. he already had to return to hero work since he took a month off for your last few weeks pregnant, but he wasn't home all day besides the weekends. like today.

speaking her into existence, his toddler daughter slowly waddled over to your side of the bed, about to pat you on the back and awaken you.

"tsk. hey, no." he whispered, making her pout. "i wanna play." she said, crossing her arms. she rubbed her eyes, obviously still a bit sleepy herself.

"mommy is sleeping, she can't play it's bedtime. go back to bed." he said, hoping to every single deity that'd hear him that she wouldn't start crying.

she pouted even more now, before stomping her feet over to his side of the bed and pulling on him. "nooo, i dont wanna sleep!" she said, her voice getting loud.

"don't yell at me missy, use your inside voice." he rolled his eyes, paying attention to your body that seemed to always be on high alert stirring slightly. he soothed you back to sleep, before untangling himself from you and sitting on the corner of your shared bed, now face to face with your daughter.

"we're going to your room and you're going to sleep, unless you want to be put in time out." her eyes widened, her crossed arms dropping as she decided to start negotiating.

"two bedtime stories, go fish, and uno."

"one bedtime story, one go fish game, and i won't tell your mom this happened."

"and pancakes for breakfast." she ordered.

she nodded to herself, seeming happy with the arrangement. she grabbed onto his sweatpants, trying to pull him off to her room already.

"i'm going, im going."

he was heading out, until he heard the whines of his son start sounding out from the baby monitor, making both him and his daughter freeze.

she tugged on his pants, "the baby's crying."

he sighed. "i know." he was squinting his eyes in the dark environment trying to see if you had woken up. after he saw no movement, he ran to go get your son.

he picked him up in his arm and then followed his daughter to her room across the hallway. he proceeded to play go fish one handed, occasionally asking his son, who was drinking a bottle of formula, for 'help', which made his daughter say "you're cheating!"

he read them 'goldilocks and the three bears', which he kept having to reread pages because he 'wasn't doing the voices good enough' in his daughter's opinion.

his voice, still husky because he was half-asleep, soothed his son to sleep in his arms, and his daughter back to sleep.

he layed his son down in the cot in your shared room, too lazy to go back to the nursery.

like puzzle pieces, you fit back into one another, your head back in his chest and his laid on top of yours. he was glad you got to sleep the entire time, even though he knew you had woken up because of your daughter's loud nature, you managed to go back to sleep.

a win was a win, he thought as he went back to sleep.

and woke up with his daughter hugging your back, sticking her toungue out at him when he asked why she was even there again. making you laugh when you woke up to his scrunched up face of annoyance.

as he made the chocolate chip pancakes, your daughter clung to your side as your son laid in your chest, he thought about how having kids was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

"hurry up and give me more! you always give mommy the better pancakes!"

most of the time.

[mrs-gauche]

The Dread Wolf Take You (Part 1)

~~Link to the complete 31 page comic here~~

"Imagine that, overlooking the god in your mids!"

May I present, my attempt at illustrating the last four pages of Tevinter Nights. 😁 (Also, the first time I'm posting art on here!)

As the whole thing was quite literally too long to post on tumblr, I uploaded the full version on a customized site made for reading webcomics (via ComicFury). Feel free to check out the link above if you like to read the rest! Also, if you're on mobile, there's a "Scroll View" option for easier navigation. :)

And, obviously, HUGE spoilers for those who haven't read Tevinter Nights!!

On a personal note though, I can't believe I actually finished it... As it had been a *very* long time since I drew (and finished) anything, let alone a 31 page comic and reading Tevinter Nights again finally sparked my motivation (and the courage to post it lol). So I want to thank Patrick Weekes for helping me overcome this massive art block and over two decades of Case Closed mangas for inspiring me how to draw an overly dramatic "exposing the imposter" moment. 😂 I tried my best to be as faithful to the book as possible and it took me forever, so... hope you like it! :D

[inkskinned]

it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.

when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.

it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.

and you're - fuck, are you envious?

but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.

god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.

you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.

your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.

you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.

the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.

in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.

[amazinglyashy]

Hi , I love your LADs works it fits the would be characters reactions according to their personality and I look forward to your work. Can I request a LADs men reaction to reader reading smut manga or BL smut , only if your comfortable with it. Thank you and All the best for your future endeavours 🥰

I have a tab I'm going through right now of a bunch of josei manga and then I open tumblr to this ask LMAO I feel personally attacked, so of course anon! Thank you for the sweet words, and for the request!

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to discovering you being an avid smut reader

Sylus -

He is such an evil person.

If he manages to find a physical copy that you own, he's going to read it and he's going to do it in his own time when he knows you'll be coming over soon. He times it just right where he'll be near the ending by the time you get there.

You walk in to him looking absolutely exquisite in reading glasses, a small smile on his lips as he leans back in his chair to ask you how your day has been- book in hand.

The embarrassment is real, even if you claim to not care about 'cringey' things and consuming them. Your love is sitting there with a smutty book in his hand and a knowing grin, and you can't help how hot your face is getting.

"You know, if you like something, you should just tell me, kitten."

Maybe he's referring to the contents of the book, maybe he's referring to your general enjoyment of the genre, you can't tell. He does mean both, though. He would buy you a library worth of smutty books if it made you happy, and he would get all the needed supplies to commit the same acts the characters do for you the next time the two of you have a session.

"Did you really think I'd be upset by something like this, sweetie? You're cute. I'm glad you found something you enjoy. In the future though, don't keep secrets from me. I want to know about you. Everything, about you."

Rafayel -

He will come up behind you to ask you something, and realize that you can't hear him due to being engrossed or having headphones in. He doesn't mean to snoop, but your screen is on display for him, and you don't know he's there.

Oh, he's so happy he decided to try and ask you something.

By the time you realize he's behind you, it's too late, and attempting to shut off your phone proves unsuccessful because he's already giggling.

"How much did you see?!"

"Not much."

"Liar!"

And you're right, because after a moment of silence, he will proceed to recite the last page you had been reading, ducking out of the way as you jump up, your face reddening, as you chase him around the room.

He doesn't care in the slightest. In fact, he will absolutely surprise you with shipping merch from whatever it is you've been reading, and remind you when new chapters are about to drop in case you forget due to stress at work.

Rafayel will also ask you how certain characters are doing, or how certain relationships are coming along. If you enjoyed watching soap operas, he's absolutely the one to watch over your shoulder and ask you questions to catch up.

He still makes rude quips here and there, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it, and the involvement is strangely comforting.

Zayne -

He's known for a long time. Benefits of knowing you when the two of you were younger, he has a pretty good read on the things you might or might not enjoy without needing an explicit answer.

That, and you left a doujinshi on his coffee table once after you used his spare key to break into his home to clean and surprise him with dinner after you had gotten off of work surprisingly early.

No, he won't let you live it down.

He will find a way to calmly bring it up in the most absurd and unnecessary situations. It's his own little running joke that makes you so adorably frustrated, he can't help but continue it.

He'll find other ways to tease you about it, much like how you occasionally tease him over his sweet tooth despite you loving snacks just as much as he does.

Sometimes though, he likes to throw you through a little bit of a loop.

"But also, if there is any content in what you've been reading that you believe you would enjoy, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"I enjoy all of it, that's why I read it, Zayne."

"I assume you misunderstood me, so allow me to restructure my sentence. If there's anything in what you've been reading that you would like done to you, I would like to know. I would love to do those things to you, whatever they might be."

Xavier -

He has purchased you some of these books and ebooks.

Probably the Li that would know the soonest out of all four of them aside from Zayne, just because he kind of just... assumed, much to your own mortification when he told you this fact months ago.

He doesn't give a crap though, it's something you like. He doesn't see any difference between it and the claw machines, even though there is an extremely stark contrast between the two. He used to see no point to the claw machine games you'd love to play, but quickly saw the appeal when he got to play with you.

Maybe he can't share your enjoyment for this, but he does love sitting in the same room as you, reading together even if the two books being consumed are vastly different in content.

He just enjoys your company, it really doesn't matter to him what you both do, or in this case, enjoy during that time.

He thinks its really cute and endearing, especially if you reach a point in whatever you're reading that gets you squealing out loud. Because not only is it absolutely adorable to hear, it's also nice because he knows it means you're comfortable enough to react out loud to your reading, even if it's a rare occurrence.

It's nice to know you're relaxed around him, in every capacity.

[ms-demeanor]

Due to some stuff brought up in recent posts I believe it is time to once again extol the virtues of Ms-Demeanor's Patented Where Did I Put That Fucking Paper Organizational Binder.

Hello! I am a disorganized adult! This is the system by which I manage my important shit like pink slips for my car and medical records and tax information.

You're going to need:

A 3-Ring Binder

Transparent Sheet Protectors

Notebook dividers (optional but VERY useful)

A backpack (optional)

So the way this system works is you put the sheet protectors into the binder. You can either use the dividers to divide the binder into sections or you can label some of the sheet protectors to make different sections but what you are generally going to do is make sections of the binder labeled things like "taxes" or "vet" or "doctor" and put a few sheet protectors in each section.

Then all of your papers with important information get crammed in that folder. You don't organize them, you don't sort them by date, you don't alphabetize. You put things vaguely relating to taxes into the sheet protectors in the taxes section. You put things relating to cars in the cars section. You don't even attempt to make this readable - you're not using sheet protectors so that you can read each page and keep it legible, you're using sheet protectors because it's a cheap plastic bag that will sit nicely in a binder.

You CAN put stuff into the individual sheet protectors when you get it, but let's be realistic you probably WON'T do that, so just tuck individual papers into the front of the binder until you get to a critical mass of paperwork then take an hour to sit down and sort into categories and put it in the binder once every six months to three years (depending on how frequently you get paperwork). Sometimes these sections will outgrow their original allotted space - since my spouse had a transplant surgery the medical section has had to become its own folder - and that's okay. If you end up with multiple folders just keep them together (this is why the backpack is an option, and one I strongly recommend).

Because yeah, if my organization system relies on opening up a drawer and putting something where it belongs as soon as I get the paper, I will simply not be organized. It's not going to happen. But I can handle a messy stack of paper that sits in one place and grows until it is time to shove it into a binder. I can't organize things for thirty seconds a day every day but I can organize things for an hour once every year or so (maybe two hours every five years when I sort out stuff I don't need like copies of warranties for parts on a car I don't own anymore).

When my mom died she had about fifty pounds of paper files in her office that were neatly organized in a system that didn't make any sense to my dad, my sister, and I. I ended up sorting through those files for twenty hours, tossing out copies of paid invoices from ten years ago and student handbooks from my junior high school. I reduced one filing cabinet, two desk file drawers, and a foot-high stack to a six inch binder that I gave to my dad. My mom died five years ago; two months ago my dad asked me about a medical document and I was able to tell him to go look for it in the medical section of the binder. It was there, because ALL IMPORTANT SHIT GOES IN THE BINDER.

Where is my birth certificate? In the binder. Where is my tax return from 2017? In the binder. Where is the record of my dog's last rabies shot? In the binder. Where are the records for my life insurance? In the binder.

A lot of what people consider "being organized" breaks down to whether or not you can find the specific things that you're looking for. Does my binder look nice? Is it aesthetic? Does it have color-coded tabs and papers all laid out neatly? Absolutely fucking not. But if you ask me where to find a paper I know that I can do so within about five minutes of shuffling through the pile of letter-folded sheets that I pulled out of the appropriate section of the binder.

I've discussed the Where Did I Put that Fucking Paper Binder before, but now it is time to expand that concept to the Backpack of Important Shit.

You likely have Important Shit that does not fit in a binder. Some of my Important Shit that does not fit in a binder is stuff like jewelry and the spare key for my car. Other stuff - the reason I decided to bring this up at all - includes my backup hard drive and packaging (including product key codes) for pretty much all of the software that I own. This is also where I store printed out copies of the recovery codes for most of the online accounts that I have.

There's a lot of weird fiddly shit that we have to have that we might not access all that often. This is the kind of stuff that might end up in junk drawers or under sinks or in disused laptop bags or kicking around under a bunch of papers in a desk drawer.

It doesn't matter so much when that weird fiddly shit is a set of hex keys or a utility knife or a protractor or a copy of a student handbook but it DOES matter when it's something that you might need to put your hands on in a hurry. If your computer crashes, you're not going to want to track down the software in the back of a filing cabinet and the backup drive from somewhere in the bowels of your desk. If you lock your keys in your car you are not going to want to figure out if your spare is in a junk drawer or the old purse where you keep semi-important stuff or the tin on your desk that has buttons and pins and headphone covers. Just put it in the Backpack of Important Shit and when you need it you know where to look.

So anyway, if you are a person who is a minor disaster who has trouble finding important things when you need them please don't think that you have to get your life together and have a nice organized filing cabinet or clear plastic bins full of documents or a neatly divided storage closet where everything from board games to backup drives has its own neatly labeled place. Just assign ONE LOCATION for important shit and start putting the important shit there. It doesn't matter if you have a filing cabinet where you keep old copies of homework and printouts of online orders and family history records - you do not need to keep everything that is file-able in one place and depending on what level of catastrophe you are it might be detrimental to you if you try to do that. It doesn't matter if you have a jewelry box where you keep your collection of gauges and wrist cuffs; if you are going to stress out about where grandma's ring is when you're digging through your collection of cheap earrings and silver pendants then *do not keep grandma's ring or any other Important, Vital, Cannot Be Lost jewelry in with your day-to-day wear*.

I live someplace that has fires. My binder got upgraded to my Backpack of Important Shit when the fires were getting uncomfortably close to the house I was living in and I wanted to have one bag to grab if we had to get out fast. Once I did that, I never took the binder out of the backpack and the backpack has now made three moves with me and has meant that I've had my birth certificate handy when I needed it in the middle of a move between two states, I was able to provide a history of my cholesterol panel going back six years to a visiting nurse, and I was able to give the exact names and contact info of my spouse's previous surgeon to the hospital when I had unexpectedly moved to a new state with three bags and my work computer at the beginning of the pandemic.

Get yourself a backpack of important shit and a folder of where the fuck did i put that paper. It is so much easier to search a backpack for important shit than to go through an entire house and it is so much easier to flip through a binder than it is to dig through a filing cabinet.

Anyway good luck and happy adulting.