#i hate this school and it's 'fix it yourself' vibe

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

finally marked all the 8th grade maths tests and like. i've only just met them this august but 1 of them has 0 correct answers. 0 points out of like 50. i have no fucking clue what is happening in there. i have no clue how he's gotten to the second to last year of compulsory education and he doesn't have a standing appointment with a special teacher

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 1 🍒

“Austin”

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2K

Summary: new to the city, you befriend Sarah, and in a time of need you befriend her dad Joel

WARNINGS: this particular chapter is safe for everyone to read, but future chapters will contain smut; mild cursing, little bit of flirting; age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35); reader is tomboyish but otherwise no race specified and will not be throughout the series; until otherwise specified, this story takes place in the summer of 2003 and is AU with no outbreak, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: this was the first fic I ever wrote, after months of lurking on AO3. It's one of my favorites to write and probably my most popular on AO3, so I'm bringing her to the party. In this particular chapter Joel fixes a sink, and I did minimal investigating into the world of plumbing, so obviously any mistakes are just gonna be there.

Series Masterlist

Austin is quiet. So much quieter than where you came from: Houston, the city on the bayou, where there's always something fun to do. Not that Austin is without its charm, it just kind of feels like living on the moon after the hustle and bustle of your hometown, the fourth largest city in the US. But the people are friendly, the vibes are mellow, and you soon begin to feel at home.

Soon you'll be starting college at the University of Texas, a school you've had your eye on since fifth grade. Your mom, overprotective but meaning well, allowed you to stay with your older cousin Sofia rather than living on campus. And you're excited about it because even with a roommate, this is your first time on your own, away from home, about to really live your life.

School starts in a couple months, so in the meantime you get a job at a new Starbucks in town, providing you with a little spending money. The first few days are a blur, making drinks, learning the register. But it keeps you busy, A few times a week a younger group of kids come in, ordering the cheapest things on the menu. One of them, a girl 13 or 14 years old, approaches the counter. She studies the overhead menu with an air of seriousness. "What's in a frappuccino?" she asks.

"Um, coffee, espresso, milk, ice, and syrup blended together, basically. Comes with whipped cream on top. I could give you one to try," you offer, as your manager is out that day.

"Sure," the girl answers eagerly.

You make the cold, frothy drink and hand it to her. "I'm still pretty new at this, so if you hate it, I'm sorry," you joke.

She smiles and walks back to her friends, sipping the frapp.

You work until evening and pick up some fast food on the way home, Getting out of the car with your food you lean back against the vehicle, stretching a little, trying to wake yourself up a bit. Then you hear the sound of a truck coming up the driveway next door and the engine shutting off. There are a couple of voices you hear as the people begin to exit the truck.

"Hey, she's the one who gave me the free coffee today," you hear, and though it likely isn't meant for you to hear, you glance over and see the young girl from earlier today, climbing out of the truck. From around the driver's side you see a man, mid-thirties, tall, well-built, a black t-shirt clinging to his torso. Dirtied jeans and work boots complete his attire. It takes a moment before you realize he's looking at you.

Immediately you glance back at the girl, obviously his daughter. "Hey," you smile and give a quick, awkward wave. She waves back politely and he gives a curt nod and quick wave. They make their way up the front porch and you hear his gruff voice: "You had coffee? Great, now you'll be bouncin' off the walls all evenin'," before the door closes behind them.

"Guess I met my neighbors," you mutter, making your way inside as well.

Over the next few days the girl, who you now know as Sarah Miller, comes to Starbucks, ordering the same frapp every time. "Don't tell your dad I'm giving you all this caffeine," you tell her, hiding a smirk.

Sometimes you give her a ride home from the cafe, though she claims to use the bus now and then. You come to see that Sarah is a lot more mature than you were at her age. You hang out from time to time, swim in your backyard pool, go to the mall, and every time you drop her off you catch a glimpse of her dad, always a figure in the background. You exchange a wave or polite smile and move on.

It's your day off, a Sunday. You intend to spend the day lounging, watching TV. Maybe Sarah will stop by. After making a quick breakfast for yourself you do the dishes. When you're finished, you realize the class ring you'd set on the counter is gone, likely washed down the sink. "Damn!" you exclaim, and text Sofia, who has just left for work.

Go next door and ask Mr. Miller if he can take a look and get it out. He's helped around the house before your cousin replies.

You sigh and put the phone down.

You're a little hesitant going to speak to him. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's home. You knock on the door, feeling self-conscious about your first interaction with him, and Mr. Miller opens the door.

"Good morning," you introduce yourself. "I'm Sarah's friend.. from next door."

"Nice to meet ya, I'm Joel Miller." He extends a calloused hand and you shake it. You've always assumed him to be a man who does hard work for a living, but in your first time seeing him up close you admire his tousled, dark brown hair, his deep brown eyes that seem serious. "What can I do for ya?" he asks in his gentle Texan drawl.

You smile. "Well, I was told you're pretty handy around the house, and I lost my ring in the sink just now." You chuckle at your mistake. "Would it be possible for you to come over and take a look?" You feel really shy about asking this of a man you barely know.

He takes a moment to think, clears his throat, raises his brow. "I suppose I could stop by." His tone is gruff but his manner seems warm enough. "I'll give it a shot. I'm no plumber, but I'll see what I can do." He shrugs.

You smile and sigh with relief. "Of course. I mean, even you just checking it out would be a big help.. whenever you can stop by I'll be here." You don't want to make demands on his time.

"All right.. I'm not doin' much right now, so I could swing 'round if you like. Just let me grab my toolbox."

Once inside, with minimal conversation Joel gets on the floor, under the sink, and gets to work. You wait nearby, trying not to hover, but also wanting to be available in case he needs anything. Plus he's good looking. You watch as he works. His shirt rides up, revealing his torso, and a hint of the waistband of his underwear. Your eyes wander lower until you force them away. To distract yourself you start putting things away in the cupboard.

"Sarah tells me you're new to Austin," he says as he works.

"Yeah, I'm actually from Houston. I'm starting UT in the fall, and staying with my cousin in the meantime. I take it you know Sofia?"

"I do. She's nice. I keep an eye on her place when she's away. Even when you're there."

You mean to say something in reply, maybe 'thank you' but you're thinking about him keeping a protective watch over your home while you're inside, unaware.

"So you're starting university? How old are ya?" he asks.

Something about his question makes you feel like a deer in headlights. "I'll be nineteen in September. On the twenty-sixth."

You can almost hear the smile in his voice. "No shit? That's my birthday. Except I'm far from nineteen. Small world, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you say, sneaking another glance at his torso.

"What're you studyin'?"

"English," you answer, excited to talk about it. "More specifically Literature. I want to write, and maybe one day work at a huge publishing house."

You hear Joel give a grunt. "What do you write?"

"Poetry sometimes, short stories, I have a few ideas for novels."

Another grunt. "You don't look like the type.. the writer type.. no offense."

"What type do I look like?" Your heart races as you realize he's categorized you already.

He peeks out from under the sink and his eyes fix on you in a way that makes you shiver. "I don't know yet. But you're young. Maybe you're the rebellious type." He goes back to work.

You sit on the floor, your back against the fridge opposite him. "How am I the rebellious type to you?"

He's quiet, and you see the gleam of his eyes from where he's under the sink. "Haven't quite figured it out yet.."

You can tell he's having fun with this, and there's a vibration in the air, a palpable chord struck, and you wonder if he feels it too.

"Anything I can do? Feeling kinda helpless over here," you chuckle.

"Just stay out of the way," his voice is more gruff than maybe he intends. Frowning, his eyes focus on an item lodged in the P-trap. He reaches in and pulls out your ring. It's covered in gunk and grime but you recognize it immediately.

"Oh shit! Thank you..." It's your class ring. 'Class of 2003' is engraved on the side, with a princess cut sapphire on top. You put it aside to clean it later.

Joel smirks. "No problem."

"I really owe you one."

"I dunno about that. Just don't go throwin' away your valuable stuff next time, okay?" He's teasing, almost playful.

You laugh "Okay.. hey I'm working at the cafe tomorrow. If you come by I could get you a free coffee." You put the offer out there, testing the waters though you aren't sure why.

"Free coffee? Careful, girl, between giving away free stuff to me and Sarah, you're gonna run Starbucks out of business," he grins. "But yeah, I might have to stop by."

You walk him out, even though Joel says it's not necessary, but you can tell he enjoys your company. "I guess I'll be seeing you around Joel.. Mr. Miller."

He stifles a chuckle. There's a touch of amusement in the way he speaks to you, but he hides it behind a warm, open expression. "Call me Joel. No need to be so formal around me."

"If my mom was here she'd say I was being disrespectful, calling you by your first name." You can't help a little blush.

"I won't complain about respect," he smiles again.

"She's pretty protective of me," you describe your living situation, your freedom that is being given in increments.

"Well your mom might've done you a favor there." Joel looks out past your front porch. "That's probably a wise decision, ya know? What about your dad? He ok with you living far from home?"

You shake your head. "He's not.. really in the picture. My parents divorced about five years ago. My dad went up north, Minnesota I think, and I haven't seen him since.." You feel a little vulnerable revealing this.

Joel's brow furrows and his expression darkens. You wonder if he's thinking about Sarah. You don't know much about her mother and haven't felt okay to ask. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you all right?"

You shrug. "I guess so. I've managed this long without him.." You give a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "I shouldn't be bothering you with all this.."

"No problem, I don't mind listenin'. Do me a favor," he says suddenly. "Be careful out there, okay?"

Something about this catches you off guard. "Of course I will."

He smiles. "Good. I'll see you at the cafe tomorrow," he phrases it like a hopeful question.

"Bright and early," you say, feeling a few butterflies in your stomach.

He laughs and nods. "Til then."

You watch him leave and though you cringe at how young, foolish, childish you must appear to him, you can't deny that you feel something, even for a brief moment. Maybe it's nothing. But something about him sticks with you, an odd feeling in your chest. But it's just a dumb, knee-jerk reaction. He has a family, he's twice your age. You're focused on school and your future. Joel Miller is the last person you should be thinking about...

...right?

next chapter ->

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[captain-hawks]

THE LINE BETWEEN LUST & CONTEMPT

♡ — kento nanami x f!reader

As you glance down at the skimpy, khaki skirt and blue shirt that’s missing far too many buttons on the top end, topped off with a silky, patterned yellow tie and heels that may actually kill you, you find yourself wondering again who in their right mind let Gojo pitch Secret Santa-style costumes for the Halloween party.

18+ ONLY

wc — 5.5k

content — enemies to lovers speed run, protective Nanami, soft dom!Nanami vibes, "fucking it out", gagged with a tie, oral fixation, spit kink, spitting in mouth, fingering, squirting, handjob, choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, washing machine sex, wall sex, praise kink, Nanami’s big dick

— AKA what if nobody went to Shibuya and everyone went to a Halloween party instead?

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“You’re joking, right?”

There’s a familiar chuckle that rings out over the phone, one that often signifies nothing good is to come when you’re on the receiving end of it. 

“Does everything fit?” Gojo asks coyly, as if he’s incapable of hearing the thinly-veiled threat in your prior question. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You glare at your phone where it’s perched atop your dresser before returning your gaze to the mirror in front of you, readjusting the blue button down shirt once again in an attempt to keep your chest at least modestly covered—it’s a lost cause. 

“Well, this shirt’s somehow missing half the buttons from the top,” you respond dryly, moving on to fix the silky, yellow tie with black spots that’s secured loosely around your neck. 

This is a disaster waiting to happen. 

“And?”

“And my ass is basically hanging out of this skirt,” you continue, roughly tugging the khaki-coloured material down in vain, as if that will persuade it to extend past its otherwise permanent resting place against your very upper thighs.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Kicking at the precariously tall pair of heels sitting on the floor waiting to wreck your feet, you grumble, “I can’t even walk in heels.”

“Shoko’s house is small. You’ll be fine.”

You walk over to your bed, eyeing the gift bag that Gojo had left sitting on your desk at the school earlier this morning. Something still remains neatly placed at the bottom—a lacy, red lingerie set.

“Should I ask why you bought me lingerie, too? I don’t see how that’s part of the costume. Unless Nanami likes wearing thongs on his days off.”

There’s that fucking chuckle again.

“Nanami-kun loves the color red, don’t you know?”

An unwelcome flash of heat flares white-hot in your gut at the implication behind his words, and you’re mortified. “You’re aware we hate each other, right? Have you been living under a rock? He’ll probably turn around and leave as soon as he walks in and sees me wearing this.”

Gojo’s chuckle turns into an outright laugh, and you can practically hear him shoving his stupid blindfold up to wipe away the tears of amusement prickling at the corners of his ridiculously blue eyes.

“Hate? Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Asshole.

You hang up on him. 

–

You had the (dis)pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kento Nanami just over a year ago, shortly after Gojo roped him back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, despite his best efforts to avoid it during his stint as a salaryman. Given that Jujutsu High isn’t exactly brimming with a large roster of full-fledged sorcerers, the two of you have—naturally—been paired up on your fair share of cases.

To say that you don’t work well together is an understatement. 

Nanami’s straightforward and calculated way of operating in the field is a direct contrast to your fast and loose approach, one that relies heavily on acting on your feelings in the heat of the moment, rather than calculating precise, measured ratios that guarantee a critical hit.

You’re too reckless.

Too emotional.

Too spontaneous.

Too sentimental. 

You grate on him much in the way Gojo does, but whereas there are years of friendship that give Nanami the patience to put up with the strongest sorcerer’s antics, he has no reason to extend that same courtesy to you. 

Needless to say, he’d outright balked when Gojo happily announced that you were a grade 1 sorcerer as well, something that never fails to ruffle his feathers as he watches you flirt with dangerous situations time and time again just for the thrill of it, saving your finishing blow of cursed energy for the last possible moment.

“I can’t work with someone who’s actively trying to get themselves killed,” you’d overheard him snapping at Gojo after your second mission together. “She’s worse than you.”

“She always gets the job done, doesn’t she?”

“At the cost of my sanity, I can’t say it’s worth it.”

Admittedly, you may or may not exacerbate the issue on occasion, exaggerating the aforementioned behavior that you know gets on his nerves just to further get a rise out of him in your attempts to try and dislodge the perpetual stick that’s lodged up his ass. 

–

When Shoko opens the door to her apartment later that evening, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out onto her front step, she takes one look at your costume, eyes wide, and laughs, “Oh, Nanami is going to love this.”

You exhale dramatically through your nose, though the exasperated gesture is thrown off by the way you then proceed to shiver, your meager outfit doing little to protect you from the crisp October air. “Tell me again why we didn’t veto Gojo’s Secret Santa Halloween?”

She shrugs, stepping aside to let you in as she offers you a knowing glance. “I seem to remember you saying how fun it would be to surprise each other with costumes.”

“That was before he picked my name,” you lament, glancing down at the outfit that you’ve now begun to refer to as The Slutty Salaryman. 

“Guess I’m lucky you picked me, then,” she winks, waving a hand to show off the far more modest and fun rendition of Principal Yaga that you’d put together for her, complete with a faux cursed corpse seated on her shoulder with large googly eyes glued to its little bear face. “If it makes you feel any better, someone with a sense of humor clearly got Gojo.”

Careful not to trip and fall to your death in the heels as you head through the entryway to the party beyond, which is bustling with a mixture of familiar faces and strangers alike, you scan the room for a tall head of white hair. True to Shoko’s words, you’re not at all disappointed when you catch sight of Gojo dressed as Gakuganji, looking completely ridiculous with fake facial hair, crudely drawn makeup to add decades to his appearance, and loose-fitting pants that are amusingly unflattering on his lean frame. 

It’s not quite revenge, but it’ll do.

–

Two hours pass without a sign of the man you’re dressed as, and for a moment, you’re relieved at the thought that perhaps you’re off the hook. Every little smug, knowing grin Gojo’s been tossing your way will have been for naught. 

But perhaps just to spite you, the front door swings open the moment you take a celebratory swig from the glass of wine in your hands, leaving Shoko to pound on your back while you start choking on the liquid at the goddamn sight standing before you.

Nanami’s dressed as Gojo.

Sort of.

His blonde hair can’t quite disobey the laws of gravity like the other sorcerer’s stark white locks, so it hangs soft and loose over the white blindfold on his face, which is lifted just enough over one eye so he can actually see. Rather than don Gojo’s typical uniform, Nanami’s in an all-black suit (save for the tie he never goes anywhere without), the well-fitting material leaving little to the imagination as it snugly hugs his muscled arms and thick thighs. 

You’re too distracted to respond to the way Shoko’s snickering in your ear, and when Nanami turns around to talk to someone—thus offering you a view of the outfit from behind—you choke again. 

Naturally, you spend the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Nanami for reasons you’re not quite ready to examine, utilizing an excessive amount of mental gymnastics to justify the way you keep dipping out of conversations every time you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. The confusing mixture of feelings you’re experiencing has sent your fight-or-flight response into overdrive. 

Your concerted efforts take a nosedive when a far-too-observant Gojo manages to wrangle the two of you into a conversation before you can find an excuse to be somewhere else. It’s disastrous at best, Nanami offering a blunt, disinterested list of every poor decision he felt that you made when Gojo asks how your joint assignment the other day went. 

And just when you’re about to lay into Nanami about how difficult he made that mission, Shoko grabs you by the hip, resting her head on your shoulder with a smile as she turns to him and asks in a calculating tone, “Nanami-kun, doesn’t her costume look great?” 

He glances at you with a gaze full of disinterest before turning to Gojo with an unimpressed look. “I’d never wear such a cheap tie.”

Nanami walks away to get another drink before you can think of a good comeback, though admittedly, the tie is a terrible knock off.

—

“Shit, sorry!”

Cold beer splashes across your chest and soaks the front of your shirt as a man trips and stumbles in your direction, and you groan in annoyance at the feeling of the sticky liquid dripping down your skin. Despite the fact that you wave him off, heading toward the kitchen in search of paper towels, he follows you, spilling out a string of apologies as he himself scrambles for a pile of napkins. 

It’s an awkward shuffle of you trying to clean your chest off without flashing him and the man getting entirely too close as he awkwardly makes an attempt to dab your shirt dry. To your relief, he doesn’t make it that far, the fingers now wrapped around his wrist halting his arm midair. 

“She’s fine.”

Nanami.

The blindfold is long gone, leaving behind the rare sight of him with no glasses and soft, tousled hair. Internally, you scramble to rustle up the familiar feeling of annoyance that always weighs heavily in your gut at the sight of him. Instead, it’s all you can do to try and keep the hitch in your breath inaudible as you feel your stupid heart trip over itself. 

“I’m just—”

“Do you need his help?” Nanami interrupts the man’s slightly slurred words, directing his steely gaze to you. 

For all of the endless comebacks you can normally conjure up to hurl back at him between one breath and the next, you’re temporarily rendered speechless in confusion as to why he’s helping you. So instead, you just shake your head. 

“She doesn’t need your help,” he repeats, nothing friendly in the way he says it. 

The man apologizes again as he drops your arm and scurries from the kitchen, and you turn away from Nanami, leaning against the counter as you attempt to catch your breath and school your expression into something that doesn’t scream, “Why the fuck was that so hot?”

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, the tinge of concern in his voice sinking into your bones. 

Hand coming up short from the now-empty paper towel roll, you let out a sound of frustration, though it’s moreso due to the infuriating way your body’s been reacting all night to a man you normally can’t even be in the same room with without arguing about something. 

“Like you said, I’m fine,” you tell him sarcastically, spinning around and pushing past him to grab napkins from the table instead. When all else fails, deflect. 

Unfortunately, spinning in heels is arguably one of your worst decisions of the evening, because you instantly lose your balance on the smooth tile floor. When you try to right yourself mid-step, the room tilts as the heel on one shoe cracks under the pressure. Your hands fly up to break your inevitable fall, but it never comes, a pair of arms wrapping firmly around your body and catching you.

Body momentarily on an angle as Nanami holds you against his warm, solid frame, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. If he did this in the field, you’d have jumped out of his hold with a snarky remark about not needing his help. 

But right now?

Right now, you don’t know what you want. 

He stares down at you, nonplussed. “You can’t walk in heels,” he observes.

You blink.

“I can’t walk in heels,” you concede, for once not brimming with the fire to argue. 

“And you’re still dripping wet.”

Nanami lifts you back into a standing position, napkins clutched in one hand as he stands on your side with the broken heel and wraps an arm around your waist, helping you to walk. You desperately try to ignore the way it feels to be tucked against him. 

You hate him. 

Right?

He has you facing the short hallway that you know leads to Shoko’s laundry room instead of the living room. “Should I ask where you’re taking me?”

He looks at you, sighing and shaking his head as he walks you toward another door, flicking on the light before he suddenly hoists you up without warning. You yelp at the feeling of something cold touching the backs of your thighs, short skirt and thin tights doing nothing to protect you from the metal surface you’re now sitting on. Glancing down, you realize he’s put you on top of the washer. 

“Here,” he unceremoniously drops the pile of napkins into your lap. “I thought you might want to clean yourself up somewhere more private, given that you seem to be missing most of the buttons on your shirt.”

Is that fucking sarcasm in his voice?

He waves his hand in the direction of the damp blue button down, as if it’s not meant to be an imitation of his trademark outfit. 

“And what are you going to d—”

You’re cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Nanami’s hand wrapping around your ankle, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the way he’d nearly manhandled the stranger in the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow, holding up the broken-off heel in his other hand. 

“Can’t have you limping around Shoko’s house the rest of the night, can we? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You can’t bring yourself to argue, too mesmerized by the way he drags a hand through his blonde hair to push it out of his face, the stubborn locks fighting their way back across his forehead as his brows furrow together in concentration.

You want to card your own hands through it, to see what kind of expression his face will morph into. 

No. 

“I think they’re a lost cause,” you sigh, leaning forward to take them off and admit defeat. You’re sure Shoko has a pair of slippers somewhere. 

You get a face full of Nanami’s hair instead as he beats you to the punch, his long, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of the tiny buckles as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re now purposely inhaling the scent of his shampoo for whatever fucking reason has compelled your traitorous body to do so. 

This entire night is a write off at this point.

Head elsewhere, you belatedly realize that your legs are spread far too wide for the microscopic length of your skirt, which may be why Nanami’s gaze has remained dutifully trained on your feet, rather than the bright red thong you know is staring him in the face. You try not to make it too obvious as you inch your thighs back together. 

Putting your shoes on top of the dryer, Nanami goes to leave, turning his head to the side once he’s facing the door, “Do you want me to get Shoko?”

You should say yes. 

You should say yes and watch him go back out to the party, letting the door swing shut on this strange, baffling detour in your contemptuous, stormy relationship. 

You’ll go home and sleep off the tightening of your throat and the pressure in your chest, these hazy, confusing feelings sure to fade in the night, long gone after sunrise like the evaporation of morning dew.

But you’ve never been one to make things easy for yourself.   

“So that’s it?”

Nanami turns around fully, eyes meeting yours. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You’re just going to go back out to the party?” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him.

He takes two slow steps back toward you, hip brushing against your knee when he comes to a stop. “Are you incapable of getting off of the washer without hurting yourself, too?”

There’s an unfamiliar, teasing lilt to the way he says it, and you shift in place, blood prickling hot beneath your skin. What’s wrong with you tonight?

“You really have nothing to say about my costume?” The words are out of your mouth faster than you can take back the idle thought that’s been nagging you since he walked in the door. 

Since you caught him looking at you from across the room several times after his initial biting remark about the tie, his expression unreadable. 

Nanami scoffs quietly, the scent of his cologne licking its way up your nostrils as he leans one hand atop the washer, just beside your thigh. Veins bulge against his forearm, and you find yourself wondering when he rolled his sleeves up. 

Electricity shoots down your spine as a caress of hot breath tickles the shell of your ear. “What do you want me to say?”

You stare straight ahead, not turning to face him. “How much you hate it.” 

The air in the small room is thick with the tension that hangs heavily in the scant space between your bodies. Nanami’s quiet for a moment. 

“I do hate it.”

Why do you feel so disappointed by the response you knew you’d get?

Then, his dress shoes scuff against the floor, his right hand coming to rest on your other side as he slides over and cages you in entirely. 

“I hate how badly it makes me want to fuck you,” he breathes out. 

Suddenly, you feel far too hot and dizzy to be perched atop Shoko’s washer. “What?”

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t act stupid, princess.”

The air feels like it’s rattling in your chest as you inhale, your increased intake of oxygen doing nothing to clear your clouded brain. “You hate me,” you say dumbly.

His thumb twitches, brushing against the outside of your thigh where there’s a small run in your sheer stockings. The contact is so minimal, you barely feel it, but it leaves a burning hot brand echoing through your nervous system all the same.

Despite the fact that he has you caged atop the washing machine, he’s barely touching you, his body arched just enough to avoid the idle sway of your legs. His tie dangles in the space between your bodies, and you have to fight the urge to wrap your fingers around it and tug.

Nanami stares at you, an odd expression on his face. “I hate the way you make me feel,” he corrects you. 

Oh.

“But you—”

“You’re reckless.”

“I’m—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well—”

“You’re too fucking smart to be risking your life in jujutsu sorcery.”

“You’re one to tal—”

“Too talented—”

“Well that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever—”

“—you have no regard for your own life in the field.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You infuriate me to no end—”

“Are you hitting on me or trying to hurt my feelings I really can’t te—”

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps, chest heaving.

You stare at him, blinking slowly. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I can’t stand it.”

You can hardly hear the sounds of the party anymore.

“Then do something about it.”

Nanami’s lips come crashing into yours, and every flickering ember in your body flares to life. 

There’s a dizzying precision to the way Nanami kisses, mouth claiming yours so thoroughly that a moan crawls its way up your throat before he’s even begun to skirt the seam of your lips with his tongue. Your lips part for him, and he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head as his tongue slides over yours. 

He explores your mouth like he wants to devour you, and you let him, already dangerously addicted to the taste of his saliva mixing with your own, keening when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. 

His hand drifts from your thigh to your shirt, and he grunts as he feels the still-damp material. Without hesitation, you begin to undo the few buttons Gojo hadn’t torn off before giving it to you, overcome with the need to feel the pressure of Nanami’s large, callused hands against your bare skin. He slips the loose tie over your head as you toss the soiled shirt aside, a groan escaping his mouth when he finally takes in the unhindered sight of your bright red bra.

While the straps are lace, the cups are thin and sheer, leaving your peaked nipples on display. You almost hadn’t worn it after realizing how little it left to the imagination.

But now, seeing the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he stares down at you, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the tops of your thighs, you don’t regret it one bit. 

Your breasts feel heavy and tender under his rapt attention, and the coil nestled in your gut tightens. 

Nanami looks like he’s holding himself back, and you feel a surge of arousal drip between your legs as you watch him teeter at the knife’s edge of his restraint. 

“You don’t need to be gentle with me,” you tell him, overcome with the need to feel exactly what it is that he wants to do to you.  

He cradles the side of your face, fingers curling behind your ear as he slots his mouth against yours. The kiss is thorough but brief, and soon he’s dragging his lips along the curve of your jaw, mouth blazing a trail down the side of your neck, tongue exploring the dip of your collarbone.

While you know where he’s headed, your entire body still arches hard into him when he finally cups your breasts with both hands, leaning in to wetly mouth at one of them through the material of your bra. He licks and sucks, the sensation making you tremble, and you throw your head back and moan, one leg hooking around his waist to pull him in as you scoot closer to the edge of the washer. 

You’re about to take off your bra, but Nanami beats you to the punch, fingers easily flicking open the hooks and allowing your supple breasts to spill out before him. He dives back in, groaning as his lips close around your bare nipple, tongue dancing along the sensitive skin that surrounds the hard bud. His mouth is hot, and slick saliva coats your breasts as he goes back and forth between the two, kneading and sucking. 

With both of your legs now wrapped around his waist in the haze of your arousal, you inadvertently begin to rock into him, your short skirt hiked up around your hips and rendered useless. You moan at the feeling of the sizeable shaft that presses hard into the heat between your legs, his erection straining against the zipper of his slacks. Nanami groans as you start shamelessly dry humping him, and your panties dampen further at the feeling of the sound vibrating against your tits. He gazes one of your nipples with his teeth, teasing it a final time before he straightens, hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

Nanami stares at you intently, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, eyes tracking the way your pupils dilate in turn. He does it again, and your tongue darts out, grazing the tip. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he presses the tip of his thumb just past the entrance of your lips, eyes darkening as he watches how easily you welcome the intrusion. He drags his thumb down the side of your chin, pulling down your lower lip with his pointer finger, and your lips part.

A small, eager thrum flares in your gut as you take his finger into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you coat it with saliva. Your panties are slick with arousal as you continue to chase the friction of his cock, moaning when he puts another finger in your mouth. You begin to bob your head on the digits, sucking on them so eagerly that you can’t bring yourself to care about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans, wiping off the stray saliva with his other thumb and licking his finger clean. 

He’s said the same thing time and time again before, but it’s far more preferable in this context. 

You whimper in relief when he finally slides that hand down your body, bringing it to rest at the apex of your thighs. The sound is muffled by the fingers still shoved in your mouth, and a sound of amusement rumbles in his chest as he watches you desperately keen and writhe for him. 

He drags a finger down the length of your wet pussy, though the contact is muted by your stockings. You begin to shift your hips, a plea for him to tear them off of you, but his impatience wins out as he outright tears them open to gain access to the plush, dripping warmth of your cunt. 

“More red,” he murmurs in approval, running his fingers over the matching sheer material that covers your mound, one digit sliding up to firmly tug at the thick, lace waistband that sits high against your hip bones.

“You like red?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

But he surprises you, still. “I like you in red.”

Nanami uses his thumb to push your thong aside, steadily dragging his finger down your soaking wet slit now exposed to him. The digit slides right through your sensitive folds, and he smirks before sliding one long digit knuckle-deep into your tight hole. 

You gasp, toes curling as you buck into his touch, already greedy for more. Greedy to be filled. 

“More,” you pant out as he slowly pumps the finger in and out of your cunt.

“Open for me,” he tells you, voice low and rough.

You don’t hesitate, lips falling open, and your body radiates with tremors of pleasure as Nanami spits directly into your mouth. Swallowing it down, you moan, drunk on the feeling of submission as he slides in another digit and continues fucking you on his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out heavily. “So pretty like this.”

You shudder under the weight of his praise, something unlocking inside of you as you begin to realize maybe you’ve wanted this from him all along. Needed this from him all along. 

“Fuck me, Nanami. Please.”

“Kento,” he corrects you, hair tickling your neck as he leans in, licking and sucking at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” you moan, loosening his tie as your fingers trail their way down opening each button of his shirt. “Kento.”

He bites down hard at the sound of his first name on your lips, his gravelly voice like fire against your skin, “Come for me first.”

He picks up his pace, fingers squelching lewdly in your cunt. Your mouth falls open as you try to temper down the loud moans of pleasure you want to give him, aware that all that separates you from the partygoers is the closed door a few feet away. 

Kento roughly spits into your mouth again at the same moment that he brings his free hand between your legs to tease your clit, the fingers buried inside of you curling as he strokes your sensitive, spongey wall. A choked out sob leaves you when you come, and he swallows it down with a messy kiss, meeting your muffled cries of pleasure with his own rough moan as he feels you squirt all over him, clear liquid spraying his shirt and pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, the wavering loss of his composure now evident in his voice as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm on his hand. 

Overcome with the desire to feel the large erection tented painfully at the front of his pants, your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, a sigh of pleasure leaving you when you finally wrap your hands around his long, thick cock. Kento kisses you filthily, moaning into your mouth as you begin pumping his cock, thumb sliding over the precum dripping from the head. 

His large hands grasp your thighs, pulling you as close to the edge of the washer as possible. Kento wraps his own hand around his dick, firmly dragging the head down your creamy slit. You rock forward, chest heaving, muscles clenched tight with desire and need, only to be met with a sharp burst of pleasure as he slaps his cock heavily against your pussy. You whimper for him.

Placing a finger over your lips, which have been far from quiet throughout this ordeal, Kento goes to grab the tie left discarded beside you. However, after his fingers close around the material, he raises a brow and shakes his head, letting it drop to the floor as he begins to loosen his own tie instead.

You make no effort to hide the shameless need on your face as he smirks at you, shaking his head before wrapping the tie around your mouth and gagging you with it. 

“I like seeing you desperate,” he murmurs against your ear, before finally sheathing his thick cock inside of you.

His dick is so big, your tight pussy throbs from the stretch while he splits you open, flooding your body with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Suit jacket already discarded somewhere along the way, your fingers tug off his unbuttoned dress shirt, leaving your hands free to explore the firm expanse of his abdomen.

The washing machine begins to shake loudly with each thrust, and Kento grunts, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifts you, choosing to fuck you up against the wall instead. The continuous push and drag of his fat cock through your slick channel leaves your mind begging for more.

Your lewd moans are quiet and muffled against the gag, but he can still hear it when you beg, “Harder.”

He obliges, the shelf leaning against the wall beside you trembling ever so slightly when he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your cunt. His cock relentless plunges in to the hilt, your pussy greedily taking every long, thick inch as he fucks you deep. One of his hands runs down the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the pressure, whimpering against the wet material blocking your mouth.

“Should have known you’d like this,” he rasps, hand sliding to the front of your throat as he tightens his grip and starts to choke you. “Now come on my cock.”

The pleasure that erupts inside of you swipes every remaining bit of air from your lungs, a choked out sob crawling its way up your throat as you tremble and shake in Kento’s steady grip, cunt squelching wetly around his dick. 

He looks down between your bodies, the sight of the creamy ring you’ve left around the base of his shaft drawing a rough, aroused noise of appreciation from him. 

Kento goes to pull out, but you shake your head, a small whine slipping past the tie, and he groans heavily, forehead falling against yours as he slams his cock back in to the hilt. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, too, shaft pulsing and throbbing within the tight grip of your slick cunt as he dumps rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

When you’re finished, Kento sets you down carefully, his fingers tender as he undoes the gag and leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, tongue swiping along your lower lip.

“Are you alright?” He asks, thumb stroking your neck.

You don’t answer him for a beat, and his mouth curls downward in concern, meeting your gaze only to find the deceivingly innocent pout of your lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” you say. 

You should be exhausted from how thoroughly he just fucked you, but instead, you’re already thinking about feeling the thick stretch of his cock inside of you again, and your cunt flutters and aches with a need that’s yet to be sated.

Kento laughs, the sound deep and rich, and you think you could get used to hearing it.

He pulls up your underwear, along with your now-ruined tights, lowering himself down on one knee before you as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt while his thick, sticky cum begins to soak into your panties. You exhale shakily, already far too close to undone just from the sight before you alone, and he smirks, standing back up.

Kento takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, teasing your bottom lip. “We’re not done, we’re just going to go somewhere where I don’t need to cover your pretty lips next time.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[haveyouanytime]

obsessed with ur rust domestic blurb we need more of that vibe

another blurb for old dog rust :3 | cw: implied age gap (reader 18+), smoking cigarettes, literally all about cigarettes, very short :( and not proofread ... living life on the edge

Rust hated that you smoked. It was a social habit you formed back in high school from sneaking out during lunch, wanting to be cool with the other kids that dreamed of leaving Alaska right out of graduation. However, once you got into a relationship with Rust, smoking became almost a constant thing. 

It started off with sharing cigarettes. You’d go out with him for dinner, finding yourself outside and leaning against the brick wall with the Louisiana air murkily settling over you. You’d look up at Rust as he lit his cigarette, watching with a doe-eyed look as if he had put the moon in the sky. He took a deep puff, exhaling with a quiet groan and pushing the plume of smoke out into the muggy air. 

“Can I have some?” You softly ask, your smaller hand reaching out for it. With a chuckle and a small shrug, he hands you the cigarette. 

You take a drag like how your friends taught you in high school, but the accidental tolerance break made the tickle of the strong nicotine too much to handle. You coughed out, your eyes scrunching shut with the unfamiliar tickle in the back of your throat. 

You hear Rust chuckle, his hand moving to rub a circle onto your back. “Not too much now, baby.” You cough, still holding the cigarette as your other hand moves to push at his chest to wordlessly tell him not to laugh. 

Then, you started smoking by yourself. Rust had forgotten his cigarettes at home during one of his shifts at the bar, and your curiosity got the best of you. You coughed again but slowly worked past it, thinking of seventeen-year-old you who could smoke two without even coughing. As it finished, a strange sense of accomplishment came over you, and you didn’t mind it too bad. 

He noticed you’d started to smoke more often, and he felt like he had corrupted you in some way. That guilt had always been a small manifestation deep within him, starting just as your older boyfriend in Alaska. Now he had taken you all the way to Louisiana and got you fixed on cigarettes. 

“You should quit.” He grunts one night, watching as you roll over in bed. The covers hid your exposed body as you grabbed your pack from your nightstand. 

“You first.” You answer, lighting the cigarette with his own that dangled between his own lips. He could admit he hated that he got you to start smoking, but nothing sparked fire in his loins like when you’d lean in, kissing the tips of your cigarettes together to light them. 

After your own budding addiction, Rust became notorious for stealing your cigarettes. The pack in your purse would disappear, and you’d see Rust with a new pack despite never taking the time to stop by the store. Even if you tied your ribbons around them or hid them in your nightstand drawer, you’d find them in the pockets of Rust’s jeans. 

What frustrated you the most, however, was the one’s he’d steal straight from your lips. 

You’d be lounging at home, slowly and carefully applying a bold red to your fingernails. You were taking drags with the cigarette that sat between your lips, the TV playing an old sitcom as background noise. Suddenly, long fingers would appear in your eyesight, snatching the cigarette from between your lips.

“Hey!” You whine, turning to look at him as he stands behind the couch. With a smirk, he looks down at you, taking a long drag of the cigarette he thieved from your own mouth. 

“That has my lipstick on it.” You pout, pointing at the ring of red on the cigarette where Rust’s lips pursed. 

“Baby, I’ve had your lipstick on more parts of me than I can tell.” He drawled back with a raise of his brow. He took a drag of the cigarette, chuckling as he caught the pillow you threw at him.

[tarotwithavi]

How do your classmates and teachers view you?

A general depiction of how your classmates and teachers see you and think of you.

Choose the picture that attracts you and you can choose two piles. Leave a note to support. And have a nice day!

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Take deep breaths and fix your posture.

Pile 1

Hello pile 1 ! You're classmates see you as someone who's competitive and likes winning. You give off the vibe of higher achiever. You might also see that your classmates also see you as a competition and might compare their grades with you. For some of you I'm getting that you might be very popular in school because of your intelligence and knowledge and this might attract some jealousy. Your classmates see you as someone who is always in their own world and does their own thing and very passionate about their studies. Someone who takes their academic life seriously. You're okay with enjoying with your friends and skipping classes but when it's time to study or when you feel like you should study, you became very serious and forget your surroundings.

On the other hand your teachers see you as someone who balances their studies with their hobbies and is a mixture of topper and disguised troublemaker. Your teachers see you as someone who is going to succeed in life. You know the type of student who the teachers believe is going to be great person or is going to get a lot of fame. Someone who doesn't compromise their education for a short time fun. Your teachers see that you can become a perfect judge because of your unbiased opinions and advices. Your teachers see you as a hardworker too. They also see you as someone who makes stupid compromises? Oh I get it they see you as someone who doesn't realize their worth and how capable you are. You tend to underestimate yourself.

Pile 2

Alright pile 2 ! Your classmates see you as the forever helpful and nice classmates. The one who is always ready to help and explain the topics again if someone asks them to. Probably the second teacher of the class Or the head of the class. I'm also getting that your classmates see you as their friend and the coolest classmate. I'm also getting that your classmates recognize you for your art or creativeness. Maybe you sketch, paint, draw or sing? They see you as the down to earth person. The one who is nice to everyone and has good relations with everyone. They also see you as the mother of the friend group or the person who can vibe with anyone ( are you guys for real? How do you do that? What's your secret? ) Anyways , I'm also getting that your classmates like you a lot. And some might be crushing on you.

Okay so for your teachers I'm getting that they see you as "My buddy" Or "save this student at all cost " Or something like that. Now take that how it resonates but I'm also getting that they might think that you lack confidence? They see you as someone who is good with everyone but likes to do their work alone. They type to do the group assignment all by themselves even though they got paired with their friends. Your teachers see you as the student who's ready nice but won't tolerate bullshit and hates to be told what to do and how to do certain things. Your teachers might think that you won't ask for help and is a little hesitant to talk to people sometimes. They see you as Someone assertive. And needs to gain confidence.

Pile 3

Welcome pile3! I'm getting that your classmates see you as the person who's working very hard and trying their best. The type of student who always has their nose buried in books and always talk about the next test and the subjects they are bad at. For some of you I'm getting that your classmates think that you're hiding something. I'm also getting that they see you as someone who has a whole different personality at school and changes into their different self the second they feet leave school. You give off the vibe of Peter Parker. For example how he is a super hero but no one knows that. Even at school people see him as the average student . You might skip school a lot too. I just heard " There's a lot about me that people don't know. And I would like to keep it that way" . They also see you as someone who tries very hard to be like everyone else.

Your teachers really be hyping you up. They want to see you succeed and see all your wishes come true. There's a male teachers who really has high hopes for you and wishes the best for you. For some of you I'm getting that there's a female teachers who's very strict and might be called rude, who Sees the potential in you. You might be being burdened by work from this teacher but in her mind she's doing the best for you. Your teachers see that you're tired and stuck. They think that you're going through something that you don't want to share. And they wish that you would be a little good to yourself. I heard " You're doing great sweetie" . Your teachers see you as someone who has had enough and just wants to rest. They see you as someone who needs to rest and recover and remain positive.

[recreationalfanfics]

Okay okay so a few years back when I was very much into the NATM fandom (almost embarrassingly so), I was obsessed with Al Capone.

Imagine Al Capone meeting the fish mafia and either loving their whole vibe (especially the lounge) or not trusting them one bit and just pulling Daley!Yuu (a.k.a his pseudo-child, much to Larry's annoyance) to the side like 'I'd be careful o' these fellas - they seem like trouble'

(Cut to Larry like - You and your gang tried to teach them tax evasion last week!)

No but he would meet Deuce and would it would be like instant respect because one gangster recognises another (even though Deuce is trying to reform)

Imagine if he and Vargas had shooting competitions

Valid, Jon Bernthal as Al Capone was too powerful, he is a beautiful man♡

- YEAH, NO, UNCLE AL SOMEHOW APPEARING IN RAMSHACKLE (maybe various NATM characters appear in your room, so like one day it's Rexy, the other its Teddy, and so on and so forth) and maybe Battle At the Smithsonian happened when you were pretty small and Al and his Crew had to hold you hostage but ended up adoring you instead.

- Essentially, Al and the boys are confused but SO HAPPY WHEN THEY SEE YOU AGAIN. You walk downstairs to Ramshackle and see them standing in your living room only to lighten up when they see you♡

- They attend the school as if they're your bodyguards, like Ace and Deuce getting scared when these random monochrome men grab them and demand who they are but once you tell them that they're your friends, they're letting them go and fixing up their uniforms.

- Right off the bat, Al prefers Deuce more than Ace. This is shown when he tells Ace: "See, if you were alive in my time, that obnoxious mouth of yours would be filled with lead." and then he moves onto Deuce and he's all: "But this kid here has a look to 'im. There might be a place for you-"/ "ALPHONSE, NO."/ "What's with the government name, kiddo? M'just saying!"

- While he does find some elements of Twisted Wonderland odd and different, he absolutely knows mafia when he sees it and he immediately clocks the Tweels. Like, he walks into class with you and he's all: "Oh, those two are definetly mafia or whatever they got here in Disneyville." and the Tweels instantly look at him which only seems to confirm what he said.

"Prefect~ Whose this? Another friend from your world?"

"Haha, hope he can swim, Shrimpy!~"

- Al isn't very intimidated by these two and once you explain who he is, or, well, who he represents, then the Tweels are much more calm. They're not gonna outright tell you they're mafia but you hate how well they get along with Al after you told him who he was.

- NOW, Al might play wingman here. If you've got your eyes set on someone, good! His boys will either intimidate or black mail them into asking you out or, if Al decides he doesn't want to scold them, he'll be nice and try to gently nudge them in your direction (aka, just tell them that you like them and to shoot their shot).

- If you DON'T have someone you like, he might push you in the direction of Deuce, Floyd, or Jade.

- Preferably Deuce. He's got a good heart and a fair amount of muscle to protect you and from what he's heard, and he seems to want to keep you safe. A nice kid whose got a good head on his shoulders.

- However the reason why he considers Jade/Floyd is only if YOU like one of them and make the mistake of telling him or he finds out. First of all, he teases you about it and is all: "Wanna follow in your old man's footsteps, eh?" and you roll your eyes and Larry doesn't know why but his dad sense is tingling.

- But seriously, he will most definetly support it since you're very capable of handling yourself, he's seen you grow up into the troublemaking teenager you are but he also knows you have a tendency to land yourself in danger so he'd feel at ease if someone like Jade or Floyd had your back.

- But also, watch him be all: "But just so you know, there might be mistresses in the picture. If they're decent guys, obviously they won't have any but just keep an eye out and keep that in mind-"

- Jade and Floyd just being offended when he puts that idea into your head and assuring you that none of that will be happening-

[adviceformefromme]

im feeling ugly. i just cant get it out of my head. i keep remembering everytime someone commented on my boobs, my acne and i feel stupid (i dont even invest in stocks). and i feel poor (my job doesn't pay. and i hate my coworkers.). tommorow i'll clean my desk. also i cant just give up on the fyodor book. i hate myself. when will i change and when will i get a real job. i know consultants make a lot of money for doing nothing…i wish that was my job. idk what i'll do with my life. and everytime i look at my school classmates…they're richer than me. and evryone is pretty and happy. and everyone has experience in love, friendships, work and everything. why am i the only one who doesn't fit in? why am i soo different? i wnt to be happy. i cant even say anything to my sister she'll yell at me for doing all the things. im so ashamed of myself. idk

Hey sweetie, I feel you. I've been there. It's the hamster wheel of feeling shit and worthless. At some point, all that self-depreciating talk just digs you into a dark hole of feeling like absolute crap. There is no light, just misery and depression. So my question is, are you ready to leave this place? Are you ready to step into the light? To start choosing better thoughts? To loving yourself? Being kinder to yourself? It's not a quick fix, but it does require you to invest time and energy into loving yourself. Some suggestions:

Learn to meditate - download an app or do guided YouTube mediation

Start listening to Podcasts / YouTube for uplifting inspiration

PRAY - and set the intention you want to heal

Remove all negative streams of content, movies, the news, Netflix, music. Only high vibe, good feel media (chic flicks, feel good music, etc)

Write down 10 things you love about yourself daily for this whole month

Read The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne (there are free PDF downloads floating around the internet)

Make sure you are eating properly, drinking enough water. Learn about nutrition, cut sugar from your diet.

Make sure you are exercising every single day. If this is too much do at least 10k steps (you can listen to an inspiring podcast during walk)

Pause mid sentence if you feel you are putting yourself down or complaining about life.

Make sure you are clean / showering / brushing your teeth.

I hope these help sweetie, DMs are open if you need more support xoxo

[rebouks]

Hello! I'm that anon who once asked you about the lots you use in your gameplay and whether you built them all. I'm so impressed that you create most of them yourself! But ever since you replied to that question, I've been trying to envision a lot for one of my upcoming gameplays, but I'm struggling to fully see it in my mind, so I was wondering if you'd mind giving some tips on your process of building your lots. Building is my weakest skill in the game, but I want to give it a try!

hello again anon!! i'm very flattered u think it's impressive 🥺 i truly love creating spaces for these guys! i'll try my best to kinda go into my process but be warned.. like anything else i do it's pretty much just chaos/winging it dkjsdkj (it'd be much easier if i used floorplans or smth simple so i could be like, here do this! but alas...)

okay i'm prolly gonna ramble a lot here but i mostly base my builds off random visions/future scenes that pop into my head or straight up vibes.. which isn't very helpful ik but hopefully if i explain it'll make a bit more sense!

so with Oscar's house above i knew i wanted it to be BIG, but i didn't want it to feel like a mansion they couldn't afford so i added some other houses on the lot and just gave em the biggest plot! i also knew i wanted it to be symmetrical, but only from the outside cos i wanted it to feel slightly chaotic on the inside, also hence the random tower addition on the left and the sunroom on the right.. like it used to be a big grand symmetrical "mansion" (prolly at the time it was built) but over the years kinda ended up as a convoluted mess left to rot until someone rescued it (yay for Oscar's impulsivity 🤸‍♀️) AND IT NEEDED AN ATTIC!! u kno cos where else would Clementine live?? 👻

so really i had no inspo pics or house plan layouts to go off here, just a vibe and an idea, i started with a rough shape and worked out all the kinks from there, then added the other lots.. be prepared to hate your wip and start over tho cos ig it's all part of the fun!

here we have an actual wip to use as an example! so with this one i basically knew i wanted a wrap around style house around a "courtyard" but since mt. komo is shit and doesn't have any decent sized lots we'll have to go with an L-shaped design and a third floor ig 😩 i started with the ground floor and just pissed around with the others until i ended up with smth just right, like anything else i do, building is just ruminating on an idea until i'm like.. yeah that works sdkjskj.. also handy to place the bare minimum furniture items as u go to get a feel of how the space does or doesn't work so u can fix it n stuff!

also feel free to make shit look strange if it works, for example these window placements look weird as hell on the outside, but real life houses aren't always symmetrical or perfect on the outside and we spend most of our time on the inside where the windows make perfect sense so.. yeah! i'm big on views from the INSIDE of the house so i just make stuff work, also big fan of using ivy/wall decs n stuff to "fix" the way it might look on the outside if needs be too..

the school i made for Robin n' co. was entirely built around this pool (cos it's IMPORTANT) and the fact that it had to have a glass roof (it just HAD to ok idk why but we must kneel to the vision when it strikes 🧎‍♀️) i tried to make the rest of it make sense around it tho, like maybe it was added on afterward so the rest is a pretty standard shape with offices n shit near the entrances etc.. ALSO (wait i actually need to explain smth else before we get to this also BUT BEAR WITH ME!)

ask yourself some questions (if u want? or just dl a house idk dskjdk)

i treat building similarly to writing and that means asking yourself some questions.. like you might ask why a character is doing/saying something, what happened in the past to make them this way? what're they aiming for in the future to choose these paths etc etc.. WELL.. what's this building for, who is it for, who chose to live here, who got stuck here, why do they like it, why do they hate it, etc etc.

we either get stuck somewhere we hate and it doesn't suit us, or we're lucky enough to choose somewhere that we love, but why? Oscar's house is sprawling and chaotic because they kinda are, and it suits them! all the random cupboards leading nowhere and the quirky additions are just perfect for them, if they were real people looking for a real house they'd view it and LOVE it, but other characters definitely would NOT 😅 the wip is neat and practical cos the people who're gonna live there are! 👀 and the school (see we got to that ALSO eventually) has that huge "grand" courtyard at the front that's actually pretty useless because it's a shitty comprehensive school that wants to give the image that it's decent, but actually it's a bit shit and there's nothing going on in the back, nowhere for the kids to play outside and very limited resources/equipment for them either.. like everything is built the way it is for a reason, which is why i think i find it so impossible to use other ppls builds, cos they don't fit all these visions in my mind...

ok i'm gonna shut up now but i HOPE this rambling mess somewhat explains how i go about starting a build and why.. i'm not sure i can help with the vision part since your brain is your own but floorplan websites and things like pinterest or even just google images are great for giving you ideas if you're struggling!

[maraschinomerry]

okay so, what about a lockwood and co x reader (platonic) where reader is quiet but if she does speak it’s always blunt or sarcastic or kinda rude because she doesn’t know how to express her feelings nicely but she shows her love in ways like act of service or protecting the others on a mission and like linking pinkies with them when walking to the archives and things and everyone is convinced she hates every other person but they know they’re the closest thing she’s ever had to a family even if she doesn’t say it

thanks so much bae i understand if you don’t want to write it no presssure <3333

Saving Your Friends 101

Pairings: Lockwood & Co & gn!reader (I know you used she/her in the ask but there aren't actually any pronouns in the fic)

Content: found family, struggling with expressing feelings, school bully, canon-typical violence fighting a ghost, Kipps being a jerk

A/N: I'm the least sarcastic person ever so I hope this all sounds okay 😅 also I just had to use that gif as the header, Lucy looking so done felt like the right vibes for reader in this

Word count: 2.7k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (lmk if you want adding or removing!)

"Hey loser! I thought I told you to finish my maths homework!"

You were 8 years old, sitting making patterns in the dirt of your school playing field when your horrible classmate Jason stomped over with his group of equally unpleasant friends. He was a brute of a lad: what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle, his expression was almost permanently fixed in a scowl, and he had a small scar on his cheek that everyone thought was so cool and intimidating (but which you knew he got from falling off his bike when he was 5). Half the school, teachers included, were wrapped around his little finger in fear. But not you.

"Go away, Jason."

"Or what? You're not doing anything, nobody ever wants to play with you."

"I don't care," you shrugged. "I'm not going to waste my time so you can pretend you're not too stupid for times tables."

Jason stepped forward to tower over you, stocky frame casting your whole body in shadow, and a few of his cronies twitched with tempered aggression. "What did you say?"

You stood up on the spot, forcing him to lean back to normal as your face rose ever closer to his. You were a couple of inches shy of him, dungarees rolled several times at the ankles to stop you tripping over, but he wasn't exactly tall in comparison to his group. Being smaller didn't faze you; you squared up to him without hesitation. "I said you're stupid and wasting my precious minutes. Life is short… and so are you."

The cluster of boys burst out laughing - not at you, at him. Jason grew red in the face and puffed up like he could account for the missing height to fight you better, but you merely raised an eyebrow. One of the boys stepped out from the group and punched you encouragingly on the arm. Another much taller boy leaned on Jason's shoulder to emphasise the difference. Jason stormed off.

—

Ever since then, quick wit and sarcasm had been your shield as you carried yourself through the world. From holding up against your affectionless parents to commanding instant respect when you started training to be an agent, they served you so well that you near enough forgot how to be any other way. And that was fine. It worked, kept you detached and independent. That is, it worked until you joined Lockwood & Co.

You settled in quickly, discovering that the rest of the agency could be just as snappy as you. George especially had proved more than a match from the day you arrived.

"I'm here for a job," you announced when the curly-haired boy, dressed in orange plaid, opened the door of 35 Portland Row.

"As an agent?" he frowned. Lockwood hadn't put out another ad, as far as he knew.

"No, I just like accessorising with a rapier."

"Well, if it's as sharp as your tongue I shouldn't be in too much danger. Come in." Despite the insult you followed him with a grin. Finally, someone who might get you.

Unlike you, however, they knew how to switch it off. Your switch had rusted long ago, if not fallen off completely. Normally it wouldn't have bothered you, if it had kept you alive up to now it was worth it, but the longer you stayed the more you found yourself growing genuinely fond of your teammates and entirely unable to tell them as much. Nothing had to change, of course, that was what you told yourself - letting them in would only make you weak, it was better to keep to yourself. Say as little as possible to them. You tried to quiet the little voice in the back of your head which whispered that maybe the reason you kept your distance was that you were afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring them off, of losing your first real friends.

—

"Everybody ready?" Lockwood asked as he dropped his kit bag onto the kitchen floor with a dull thud. You'd been ready nearly 10 minutes, still fairly new to working cases despite the months you'd been there and eager to respect the schedule that Lockwood had set out. Lucy had been the next after you to arrive, offering a quick 'hi' which you acknowledged with a nod. When George came down he immediately started chatting to Lucy. He didn't ask if you wanted to join the conversation. You never seemed to. He often wondered if you actually wanted to be there at all, but you hadn't left despite how little you'd tried to bond with them. There were plenty of other agencies to go to, yet still you stayed.

While Lockwood checked over the supplies once more, you leaned over to Lucy, who so far had been a reliable source on the boys and their actions.

"Is he always this picky with the gear?"

Lucy sighed as she adjusted her bootstrap. "No, just when the case involves families like this one. Brings out his protective 'save the world' side."

You'd heard by now about the young age at which he'd been orphaned, he was open enough about the circumstances if not the details, and you understood his pain but had never been taught how to address anything as serious as that. All you had to work with was your dry humour. "Save the world? He can barely even save his toast in the mornings," you muttered. Lucy snorted.

"If you're quite done mocking my culinary abilities…"

"Oh, I'm definitely not done, but it can wait," you smirked. Lockwood rolled his eyes, but didn't miss the way you wordlessly joined him in sorting through the bags.

The case itself went well, up until about the last 5 minutes. You all successfully secured one source, but it turned out the house had a second Visitor which you discovered when the four of you were ambushed by it in the dining room. It was a man, looked to be in his late 40s, with a thinning head of hair and an even thinner frame. The previous owner, then, Richard. Lockwood immediately stepped forward, rapier brandished, but with an ear-splitting screech Richard tossed him aside. The rest of you watched in horror as he flew across the table and crashed through a chair to land in a pile of splintered wood.

You levelled your own rapier, less aggressively. "George, Lucy, look for the source," you fought to keep your voice as steady as your blade, all your usual confidence gone without the safety net of your snide remarks which would only anger the ghost. "Cabinet behind us is our best bet, I think. I'll help Lockwood." The other two exchanged a glance before nodding and moving slowly towards the cabinet in question. You began to move in the other direction, around the side of the table and towards the spectral figure which was hovering worryingly close to the boy in the debris.

"Hey!" you called. Richard's gaze snapped to you. You faltered. No. Confidence. Wit. Use your ridiculous snarky brain to keep Lockwood alive. "He's not a fair fight any more, and you're better than that, aren't you? Come on, show me what you've got."

You almost heard Lockwood's protest - you saw his lips forming the words, sure, but the noise itself was drowned out by the shriek that burst from Richard's snarling mouth as he rushed towards you. You planted your feet and held your ground, just like you'd done that day in the school yard all those years ago, but at the last second you rolled out the way and sent your rapier slicing upwards. Richard howled, but it wasn't enough to dematerialise him and within seconds he rounded on you again.

"Aww, not bad for a first attempt," you jeered. "Do you want to try again?" The words had barely left your lips before he was upon you, and you swung hastily. The blade split him right down the middle, but he reformed behind you and you had to dance across the space to avoid him, smacking your ribs painfully against a sideboard as you did so. Your chest was heaving as you faced him once more.

"Are you even trying to hit me?"

A lance of air struck you in the centre of your chest, knocking all the air from your lungs as you collided with the wall. That answered that. You would have cried out if you'd had the breath to do so. Lockwood was right beside you, midway from climbing out of the broken chair but now frozen in the glare of the wrathful spirit which hung above you both. With the last of your energy you dragged your body between him and it.

"Got it!" Lucy yelled frantically in the distance, and in a wave the feeling returned to your limbs as Richard disappeared. Lockwood groaned, reaching out to help you up from where you'd slumped against him.

"So you know when you're taught not to taunt the Visitors, did you just skip that class, or…?" he scolded, but there was a touch of amusement in his voice, his way of showing he was grateful to have been saved.

You chuckled, wincing as the sound rattled your bruised ribs. "Scheduling conflict, not my fault. Clashed with 'Saving Your Friends 101'." You realised that was the first time you'd called them your friends out loud. They realised it too.

—

That case marked the beginning of a shift within the agency. Where the rest of them had been struggling to see any indication that you cared about being part of the group, suddenly they couldn't stop seeing them. Nothing had changed in the way you spoke (minimally, and heavily sarcastic when you did), but they learned to notice everything you said without words. How you always grabbed the first aid kit when someone came home injured from a case, and insisted on treating the wounds yourself. The way you clicked the release on the toaster every time Lockwood risked leaving it a little too long. The times George would fall asleep while researching with you in the library and wake up with the blanket from the back of your chair draped across him. The fact that none of them had bought any more of Lucy's favourite tea in nearly two months, and yet whenever she was close to running out the caddy would be full again the next day. As they began noticing the subtle ways you expressed your feelings, they began to find little gestures they could do in return to show they cared without pressuring you into talking, which only strengthened your commitment further. Lucy poured you juice in the morning before you asked and put your pyjamas in the dryer while you were in the bath; Lockwood made a big act of ruffling your hair and calling you 'kiddo' like an enthusiastic uncle when you did something particularly well; George learned your rankings of pizza toppings and Arif's doughnuts by heart so you'd always get the highest one available. All so uniquely them.

—

It was a bright June morning, with fine wisps of cotton candy clouds drifting lazily across the sky. An ice cream van sounded nearby, being pursued by a horde of excitable children. This was no time for ice cream for Lockwood & Co, though - there was an exceptionally big case to research, and it was all hands on deck as the four of you strode towards the British Archives. Lockwood was on the right, trenchcoat left at home and shirt sleeves rolled up to make the most of the glorious sun, rapier hanging from his belt. Lucy was on his left, arm linked through his. Her other hand had started in the pocket of her blue playsuit, which today she wore without tights, but now it held yours and swung casually back and forth. George completed the line on your left. You knew by now that he wasn't overly keen on physical interaction, which you completely understood, but you also could tell when he was willing to let it slide to join in with the group. This was one of those moments. Your hands had brushed as you walked along, and your pinky had twisted round his. This was almost a habit between the two of you by now, not quite as intense as holding hands but still providing a tether, a connection.

Inside was bliss, the comforting scent of old books accentuated by crisp conditioned air which provided relief from the blazing heat outside. You all spread out to gather resources from across the archives. Lucy returned with a stack of books so high she could barely see over the top, and you shifted your files into one arm so you could pull a chair out for her with your free hand. She smiled at you as the books cascaded onto the table.

Before long you were thoroughly engrossed in the research. It was one of your favourite activities within the agency, an opportunity to make a helpful contribution without the expectation of speaking to anyone. The only sounds were the rustle of turning pages, the scratch of your pen as you scribbled notes, and the occasional comment from one of the others when they found something unusual.

"My my," a voice that didn't belong to the group filtered through the barrier of concentration you'd built. You looked up to see Quill Kipps and his team sneering at your table. "It must be a big case to have you all working on it. Or do you just need help with the difficult words, Tony?"

There was a tic in Lockwood's jaw, but he forced an overly polite smile. "It is a big case, one that our client clearly thought we were better equipped to handle."

Kipps scoffed. "Probably just trying to save a bit of cash on a sub-par service instead of paying for the premium. Not to worry, Fittes will be more than happy to finish the job when you fail to."

You decided to follow Lockwood's lead, putting on the most innocent expression you could muster. "Hmm, what was I…" you feigned forgetfulness. "Oh, George, you'll know! What's that theory with the monkeys and the typewriters?" Kipps' team took the bait immediately, giggling amongst themselves at your scatterbrained question.

"Supposedly if you had infinite monkeys with typewriters or one monkey with a typewriter and infinite time, they would eventually type out the complete works of Shakespeare. It's not exactly true though."

Your smile turned wolfish. "That's the one, and remembered without a database too! I just thought of it because I was wondering whether, given long enough, Kipps would eventually say something intelligent. Don't think that's true either."

The other group fell into a stunned silence, giving everyone the opportunity to hear Lucy choking back a laugh. Kipps opened his mouth to respond, but then had just enough sense to realise that there was hardly anything he could say that wouldn't prove your point and promptly closed it again. Instead he shot you all one last glare and turned silently on his heel. The rest of his team scampered after his retreating figure.

Lucy's laughter erupted with enough force that she almost tipped backwards out of her chair. George grinned at you. "That was amazing!"

"Couldn't have done it without you, genius."

You suddenly glanced at Lockwood. His rivalry with Kipps was more intense than any you'd seen before, and you hated to think you might have overstepped or taken away his chance at gaining the upper hand. Relief washed over you when he gave you his signature smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. "If that's something else you learnt in 'Saving Your Friends 101', I might have to sign up for classes."

"Lucky for you I'm very committed to my studies, I can just lend you my notes."

Lucy leaned over to watch your pen gliding across the notepad as you spoke. She frowned at the page. "Your current note is just a doodle of… is that a crying monkey in a Fittes uniform?"

You all glanced in the direction in which Kipps had retreated. Lockwood reached across and picked up the notebook. "I'll definitely need to borrow this, for educational purposes of course… and then it's going on the fridge." You beamed with pride.

[leviathans-watching]

mfil - 37

-` ♡ ´- m.list | no taglist | next | wc: .8k

-` ♡ ´- a/n: rlly niche but is anyone experienced in macroinvertebrates and sensitivity testing?

*NOT CLICKBAIT!!!* when asmo learns that you, the newest exchange student has a youtube account and following somewhat comparable to his own, he decided right then and there not to like you. however, after an unfortunate (and misleading) exchange goes viral, he has no choice but to fake date you in order to save face. will asmo crush you and put you into place like you deserve? or are those funny feelings in his stomach not hate, like he had thought? like, subscribe, and maybe fall in love (with this smau) to find out!!

it takes some time for everyone to get settled in the living room, but once you all finally are, you find yourself sandwiched between asmo and solomon. the latter closer to you than your own (fake) boyfriend. but thankfully, as he goes through the mural plan, he’s all business, and you find yourself being drawn into the project with ease.

“i think it’s a great project,” diavolo says after solomon’s laid it all out. “it fosters community, adds culture to our school, and is a great way to set the precedent for more exchange programs. it just sounds like we need an artist or two to really get us started.”

“can’t mc draw?” mammon asks, and you shake your head.

“oh, no way! i’m better at the crafty side of things. need a painter and i’m your person, but for something as technical as this we need someone with skill.”

“asmo, would you be willing to help design the mural?” lucifer asks, and you turn to him. you had had no idea he dabbled in art aside from makeup and nail art!

“it’s been a long time but i suppose i could dust off my pencils,” he says, faux-modestly. “i can come up with a couple of mock-ups once we decide what to include and then we can go from there.”

“great!” solomon leans over you, shoulder pressing into yours, to give asmo a high-five. “we can do that some other time. i don’t want to bog down this sleepover with too much work. i really just wanted to introduce the project and decide where to start, and we’ve done that.”

the conversation drifts then, and you just take it all in, adding your two cents when asked. you’re really just content to listen and grow comfortable with the dynamics between the groups, especially since you don’t know everyone that well. asmo seems not to notice, but solomon certainly does, fixing you with a smile.

“so, mc,” he says at a quieter volume, as if to make your exchange more of a side-conversation, “has asmo been a good parter? treating you well and everything?”

and, okay, that’s kind of a weird thing to ask, right? that’s really not something you’d ask someone you’d just met. but maybe he was really close to asmo? you had kind of gotten that vibe…

“he’s a wonderful boyfriend,” you reply, cheeks heating slightly as you involuntarily think about the kiss. get over it already, you think viciously. “i really couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

“really?” solomon asks, dubious. “you must have really done a number on him. the asmo i know never seemed to have room in his heart for someone else, focused on himself as he is. but if you’re saying the opposite… that’s almost hard to fathom!”

his assessment isn’t necessarily untrue and matches your general experience with asmo, but for some reason, protective instincts rise in your chest. “is that so?” you ask, blinking up at solomon. “asmo’s truly the perfect partner.”

“what about me?” asmo asks, catching your hand (and your attention).

“mc was just telling me about your relationship,” solomon answers. “all bad things, you know.”

“oh, i’m sure,” asmo says airily, and you chuckle.

“no, i was just telling him about how great you are,” you say sweetly. “and how  i truly couldn't ask for anything more in a partner.”

except for someone real, a traitorous part of you wishes longingly. and the worst thing is that you don’t want just anyone. what you really want is to make it real with him, but there’s no way he’d want that. after all, not only has he always claimed to hate you, but he literally ran away after you kissed him! who’d do that to the person they genuinely care for?

“well, i’m glad you think so highly of me,” asmo hums, squeezing your fingers. “but i’m the lucky one in this relationship.”

solomon looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised. “i can’t believe this is what you’ve been turned into,” he says wonderingly. “i don’t mean it as an insult; it’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around it.”

“what can i say?” asmo sighs. ��love changes a man?”

“love?” you giggle. “it’s much too soon for that.”

his smile turns slightly in a way you don’t like. “ah, you’re right,” he says quickly. “but you have to remember, i’ve never felt like this before. you’ve changed me, mc. for the better.”

you know he’s just saying it, but why do his words sound so genuine? and why is he looking at you like that? and why oh why is your heart starting to race?

“you’ve changed me too,” you finally muster, giving him a weak smile, and thankfully, you’re interrupted by diavolo offering up dinner.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[jakesangel]

do you have any beauty tips? such as weight maintain tips or exercise tips? just want to hear it from your perspective since your vibe is the same as arin! i enjoyed your works too! love you ❣️

hi anon ᵎᵎ i do have some >< i love u more bby

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . weight management

it's sadly very easy to fall into yo-yo so i'd day first of all fix your metabolism,, it depends for each people's diet but if you been restricting hard lately, then binging, then restricting, you're gonna be alright you should eat more than usual n fix your binging issues. i use to struggle w that a lot, so i have schedule times where i eat w safe meals so i don't feel like binging. after a while my metabolism was fix n so my binging issues. i then re started to diet again but didn't take it full on restriction, but just a slight calorie deficit ᵎ that way even if one day i overeat, my weight doesn't go up as high as if i was heavily restricting.

get to know macros ᵎ it's really important specially if you want to get a certain type of physic. i personally want to tone down, meaning keeping/growing my muscles but losing fat. so i mostly eat lean protein n a bit less carbs ( there not evil you need them )

eating depending of your activities. i forgot what's it's called like but basically i eat low carbs on day i don't workout, lots of protein along w some carbs whne i lift weight, n a bit more carbs whne i do cardio ! that whay i cant lose muscles >< i also do fasted workouts ^^

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . exercice tips

finding your sport is very very important ᵎ i thoight lifting weights was the way to go but i hate it sooo munch ᵎ i tried pilates n find munhc more joy in it >< don't be afraid to try new workouts as well w different ytbersᵎᵎ

pretty workout clothes/items are also sooo important. don't go out n buy them already, i boigh my mat n my weight 6 months into working out tonne sure i was going to be into that for a long period of time. but it helped me to be consistent n also it feels easier ?ᩚ some mornings i feel so so so lazy, so i just tell myself ' let's jsut out on the clothes, i can do that' or ' let's just be on the mat n we will see' n then i just do it ᵎ

for cardio there is also tons of different so just do as u feel like doing ᵎ i personally always been loving dancing so w kpop i have endless dances to learn ><

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . beauty

i feel like we all know what to do, drink lots of water, sleep well, do your skincare everyday n i've always been doing that but i've never glow like i am rn because i've never truly understood what's focusing on yourself is like. i cant go deep into my personal stuff but last summer i needed to focus on myself n i came back to school looking prettier than ever, having more compliments than ever, n i truly felt so so good about myself. so the only advice that u can give you is to do something for you regardless of people opinion. to keep on holding yourself first, you'll never be selfish because of that. at the end of the day, you only have you, n should be proud of who you are n be good to your own self. it's a bit hard n s crazy but if i did in it in two month ( summer being my seasonal depression phase btw ᵎᵎ ) you can do it too bby <3

it might feels like a lot but they will become habits in the long terms ᵎ what's important is consistency n not perfection <3

[thetriumphantpanda]

hi charlie! 

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom. 

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

[chazymandias]

The Tortured / Poets Department

The Anthology was 2 albums, but what if they were split differently. Restructured using vibes and this theory on track orders.

Album 1 - The Tortured

Fortnight Down Bad My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys Fresh Out the Slammer I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) imgonnagetyouback Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus I Can Do It With A Broken Heart The Tortured Poets Department I Hate It Here Peter I Look In People's Windows thanK you aIMee But Daddy I Love Him So High School The Alchemy

This album is the "Teenage Petulance" album. The first 5 songs reflect the rollercoaster of a relationship that you want so bad to work even while it's falling apart. While I Can Fix Him isn't a classic Taylor track 5 it's the snap moment of realisation that maybe you can't save what you want.

The next 3 tracks are the immediate reflex response to a breakup, followed by The Tortured Poets Department which feels like a summary overview of the whole thing.

As a result of this the album moves on to escapism, not wanting to be in this situation, putting yourself into fiction or other people's lives to get away from the reality. As well as rehashing other things that have made you feel like this that aren't the relationship.

The irony of having But Daddy I Love Him following thanK you aIMee is great after being so up in someone's drama to then be like but I don't care what anyone says.

However the album then ends with the discovery of a new relationship and the joy of moving on and the rush of new love.

The Tortured is reminiscent of 15 year old blog posts and anonymous tweets with big world ending statements and an acknowledgement of feelings that are so big in the moment but may not last.

Album 2 - Poets Department

The Prophecy Florida!!! Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived loml Guilty as Sin? Clara Bow The Black Dog How Did It End? So Long, London The Bolter Cassandra The Albatross The Manuscript

This album is what happens when you hone those tweets and blog posts (and let Aaron Dessner near your feelings).

Opening with The Prophecy sets the album up for heartbreak, and is an ironic opener for the next tracks. "Who do I have to speak to?" then becomes taking action yourself, as Florida!!!, Who's Afraid and The Smallest Man are all such powerful songs from a person who is taking back control of their life.

loml is a true track 5, a reminder that even when feeling powerful and in control heartbreak can still get the better of you.

Guilty as Sin? and Clara Bow are a counterpoint to Who's Afraid in that even if you embrace your power people will still have opinions and be asking things of you that they shouldn't. It's an interesting look at Taylor's relationship with the public.

Pairing "old habits die screaming" and "I still don't know, how did it end?" is just to hurt people's feelings ngl.

The end half of the album feels like an answer to How Did it End? with So Long, London and The Bolter suggesting there was fault on each side, and Cassandra and The Albatross pointing at the effect of outside opinions.

The The Manuscript as it always has been, the perfect wrap up of this album. The true closure and decision to turn the page and think about something new now.

You may have noticed that Robin isn't on either album, that's because I couldn't work out what it was doing and so if I was going to include it at all it would be a bonus track on Poets Department.

Would love to hear opinions but this has been sitting in my mind since I first heard the album.

[shelly-ya]

Misunderstanding 2

I frigging did it. It's over and frigging long. Did it with a toddler with a toothache who was harassing me every minute. But it is done. It is safe for a wholesome vibe. If you hate making out go somewhere else. This does not contain sex at all.

It has been almost a week since manjiro displayed that cold behaviour towards you the last time. Now you were both lounging in bed watching a movie. His hands playfully caressing your side with his fingers making you giggle.

"Jiro pause the movie I wanna take a bathroom break." You say getting up as he paused the vcr. Just then your phone signalled you received a message.

"Baby You got a message"

"Can you read it for me?" Your voice muffled in the bathroom. He flipped the phone open and was shocked to see the name on the screen.

"It's mitsuya?" He said unconsciously just as he was about to hit open the phone was pulled from his hand.

"Thanks." He looked at the mix of emotions playing on your face. From serious to your eyes lighting up as you read the message. Closing your phone you grabbed your back pack and shoving it into the pocket. "I'm sorry babe i really need to go." You say as you start changing your clothes.

"What? We're in the middle of a movie and I even had plans for us tonight." He said getting to his knees on the bed.

"I know jiro but I really have to go take care of this. It is very important." You say fixing your hair. Once complete you gave him a quick kiss on his lips. Then another and another. He held your waist and deepened the kiss on the final quick peck you were going for. His right hand in your hair and left hand going to your butt. Wrapping your arms around his neck you lost yourself to the kiss. He began sinking back slowly bringing You along with him however, your phone ringing made your senses click again. Pulling away a bit to aggressively. "Jiro please I have to go i really will be back as soon as I can. I love you" you say straightening yourself again.

"Where are going?" He ask as he walked you to the door.

"I need to check out my best friends they need me to see something." You whispered.

"Ok be safe then. Should I call one of the guys to be your body guard?"

"You know very well I can take care of myself. ittekimasu"

"itterasshai" was his and Emma's response. Your phone rang again you opened the phone and Mikey spying the name call was mitsuya again

"I'm on my way wait for me" you told the person on the phone as you ran out the door slinging your back pack on your shoulder again. Mikey stood at the doorway watching your receeding back as you ran to your bike and started it. Putting your helmet on and starting up your bike your drove off. That bike was a gift to you from his brother an engagement gift. He spent the first two drives teaching you how to ride now you are even better than him. Deep down mikey wants to trust you and believes you were doing something that won't make him lose you.

A couple nights passed and it was a toman meeting. Mitsuya called and said he had another important appointment he can't cancel. You said you were hanging out with your best friends. That is what everyone thought.

"Hey guys do you know why name Chan was at our school today?" Pahchin enquired.

"At your school?" Mikey whispered

"Yeah they were heading to the home economics room" pehyan answered as well.

"Isn't mitsuya kun president of the home economics club?" Chifuyu piped

"Shut it chifuyu" hanagaki elbowed him. Chifuyu realised Mikey was looking upset.

"You must have been mistaken pah you know how you have the brain of a flea" kisaki tried to reason

"Can't help it if I'm dumb" pah argued. Hanagaki gave kisaki a thumbs up for damage control.

When you got home to the sano household you saw Emma already started dinner.

"tadaima"

"Okaeri" Emma said

"Let me wash up and come help you" you smiled at her as she nodded her head. You ran to your shared room with Mikey. Sliding the door open you didn't expect to see Mikey sitting on the edge of the bed looking as though he were lost in thought.

"Oh jiro. Tadaima" he absently looked up to you. His grey eyes looked pained.

"Okaeri" he said quietly.

"You ok? You look upset."

"I'm fine" he said putting on a fake smile. Dropping your backpack you went to the bathroom and cleaned up and changed your clothes.

"I'm going to help emma" pecking his head. "We will definitely talk after dinner ok. Unbeknownst to you, your phone rang signaling you got a text in your bag. Mikey got up and checked it. It was a message from mitsuya.

*Name Chan can we meet tomorrow major league changes in the plans are taking place*

Mikey closed the phone and put it back in your backpack. He sank down whispering to himself "please tell me this isn't true"

Dinner passed by quietly and awkwardly as Mikey wasn't his loud self during dinner. You tried talking to him but he just said he was tired and just need some rest.

A couple more days passed with Mikey growing more suspicious of your actions. Going out when your phone rang and staying late. With you complaining how sore your body felt when you came home and sunk down into the bed. He didn't have the urge to touch you again. Just lay there looking at you sleeping with no care in the world. It at this point Mikey decided to go to the most adult person he could talk to. His big bro shinichiro. Having driven to the shop s&s motors he called out.

"Shin-nii you here?"

"Yeah out back" came the reply. Mikey trudged in hands in his pocket head hanging down. His blonde hair falling over his face.

"Ooohhh i remember you the cute wittle baby shin showed me when i came visit all those years ago" a mature woman's voice spoke up. Looking up he saw a woman around shin-nii's age. Long red hair, blue eyes and almost the same complexion as name Chan. She looked slender and her hourglass shape made her even more tantalizing.

"Yeah he was a baby back then. Manjiro what are you doing say hi to harmony"

"Uh hi. Nice to meet you"

"Same here kiddo. Anyway shin don't forget what I talked to you about. Tonight 6 pm sharp." She left leaving Mikey and his brother behind. Shinichiro still working on the task he was doing when Mikey walked in.

"Didn't know you knew someone like that" Mikey finally said.

"She was married and has a son. Get your head out of the gutter"

"Was?"

"Yeah her husband died. Anyways make yourself available for 6 pm tonight we have somewhere to be. Everything is going to be ok manjiro don't worry. Now can you hand me that wrench".

Fast forward to later in the evening. Mikey arrived at the meeting spot with shinichiro. There was a massive number of people at this certain park. Almost like a rave. Music blasted on a massive stage to the centre of the park. Some groups were dancing and there was cheering and typical party noise.

"Mikey!" Hanagaki yelled running towards the blonde and his older brother.

"What are you guys doing here?" Mikey asked

"Oh mitsuya sent a mass text to everyone to meet here with the instructions to cheer for a person we will know when we see them." Baji said showing Mikey the text.

"Did anyone know there was a dance competition here?" Chifuyu asked

"Yeah there were alot of flyers in the red light district in my area" Draken said.

The group of commanders were watching group after group until Mikey was getting tired of it all.

"Let's go i got better things to do" he said irritated and bored. He then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You gotta wait they're the last group." Shinichiro said sternly not letting him go.

"Who?"

"You'll see" the announcer came on stage announcing for the last group going by g/Name a foreign dance group that fought from the beginning to now. A resounding round of applause was heard. While the crowd chanted the g/name. Then what Mikey saw shocked him. He recognised one of the women on the stage she was harmony from back at the shop. But also some other members like your best friends and some who introduced themselves as your brothers and sisters. They all made their way to the stage in a unique style of clothing. And then you walked out smiling from ear to ear. Mic strapped to you showing you were the lead singer. Taking your places the beat started and all of you did your dance masterfully. You twirled and flipped and sang your soul out. As the crowd as well maybe not understanding the lyrics started to sing what they understood. Some even dancing and copying the moves from your group. Mikey was proud and shocked at the same time. The other toman members were cheering you on as you continued. The song eventually ended earning you a standing ovation.

"What's going on shin-nii?"

"They came to me a while back asking me for permission to do this. That the prize money would help the three of them open that business they wanted to be partners in. I did give them permission. They didn't want you to feel obligated to cheer them on because you have other things going on in toman. So I kept it a secret." Shinichiro explained.

"That doesn't explain mitsuya" kisaki said.

"And the results are in we will go with best original costume design. It goes to mitsuya takashi from g/name." The announcer said seeing the purple haired captain walk out on stage to collect his prize.

"That explains mistuya" hanma said.

"Yeah they told mitsuya to keep it from you. they commissioned him to design their clothes. Hence all the calls and texts." Shinichiro continued.

"Hey guys" you whispered behind the group of boys.

"Princess/prince!!!!! That was amazing" they all looked to you and all hugged you. All the while the announcer kept announcing the winners of different categories.

"And finally the winners if this competition is g/name congratulations." The announcers yelled making the whole of the park scream. You felt your feet leave the ground as you got spun around. "Would the manager come collect the groups prize." Mikey saw your grandfather walking onto the stage to collect the prize

"Let's go home name" Mikey commanded

"Yeah" after you changed into your regular clothes you and Mikey rode home on your own bikes. You both took do your shoes saying you both were home with Emma and grand pa sano greeting you both. Walking to the room Mikey opened the door and slide it close once you both were inside. He held you from behind.

"I'm sorry for doubting you loved me" he whispered.

"It's ok I didn't really leave room for trust I guess" turning to hug him. He kissed you passionately.

"Congratulations" he whispered touching his head to yours.

THE END

@angelsdevils @stxrmylxve

[hvoigt01]

I've been in the fandom for a few years now here on Tumblr, and I've had a few decently popular gallavich posts (when I remember that this app exists every few months haha), but I realized that I've never actually introduced myself on here. I saw this fun introduction post made by the amazing @callivich, so I thought I'd join in on the fun :)

Name: - Hannah

Age: - 22

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? - I feel like I started shameless completely blind to the ship. I started watching it because a bunch of my family members were watching it and talking about it during the covid quarantine time period, and I thought it seemed interesting, so I started watching it myself. I remember being shocked when they first hooked up, but never really having an opinion on Mickey until season three, and as you guys can probably tell by the username, I became obsessed haha. season 4 is when I really fell in love with the ship.

How long have you been a fan? - I kind of answered above but around summer 2020 during covid. The only season I watched live was 11, which maybe is a good thing because I don't think I could have handled season 5 or 7 in real time.

Favorite Gallavich moment/scene? - maybe basic, but I am obsessed with the prison reunion at the end of 9x06

Favorite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? - I am a Sheila Jackson stan first and human 2nd. I missed her so much after she left

Do you write or draw or make edits? - I have 2 works on ao3 (same username), but I hate them both - some of my shitposts here on Tumblr are funny

Favorite type of Gallavich fics? - I am a sucker for some hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending - other fics I enjoy include: jealousy, post canon (anything with husbands gallavich), fluffy smut, fix it fics - I like some AUs like high school/college, but tbh I don't read many AUs unless I find the plot super interesting

Favorite Gallavich quote? - The whole "I gotta worry, you're my husband" convo in that scene that they should not have deleted in season 11 - "I didn't know which Bs to get, so I just got all the fuckin Bs"

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? - I was raised on a farm, which surprises people because I generally don't give off that vibe - I am one year away from getting my bachelors degree in bio engineering (nerd) - My favorite artists are Fall Out Boy, Doja Cat, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Tayor Swift

[feathered-moths-ablaze]

Tw: R slur, mentions of suicidal ideas. This is a vent.

You ever feel stuck in the state of "That one"?

The one that was able to make only one friend at the start of year 7 only because you walked by their house on my way to school and pet their cat and it didn't last for a year and you put the blame all on yourself because "you can't do things normal friends do" and so ended up being alone because you felt like you'll fuck it up because you can't get through your "tiredness"

The one who cried over English class because despite everything you just couldn't pick up on what the author's intention yet everyone else could easily do it so why couldn't you despite years of practice? This is an important exam that can determine where you work so you'd better actually get a high grade or else you'll never get a job!

The one who could never tell if that gaggle of boys were being nice or mocking because you could hear a 'your reactions are hilarious' note and so treated anything they said with internal hate and wishing you had the gall to beat them to the ground and hating that hate because "they could just being nice stop being a bitch"

The one who never said what they enjoyed because of the underlying vibes of "what you like is cringe/stupid/weird therefore you deserve all negative treatment towards you" and now would rather die than ever say what you like

The one who always felt like an outlier in class and just wanted to leave only to find out on the last few weeks of Secondary why because you overheard how people thought you were weird and left that day wanting to both cry alone and tear people apart

The one who hated how they were and wanted to start over, rip their brain out to "fix" it, and finally fit in with humanity - only to be told that they were autistic; left with an answer and no idea what your strengths/weaknesses or personality is because your honest answer to a "Who are you?" Question would've been "a useless waste of space who can't speak to others normally and too stubborn to admit that they probably deserve to die as a way to make up for their retardedness"

How do I get out of it? Or am I doomed to this?