#i might have made the fonts too big...

[digimonpolls]

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about the dyslexic Wade headcannon- like at all- so here is the second part/expansive of this post!

I really like the idea of him being really insecure about it but slowly accepting it more and being more open about it.

I also wrote from my experience, and I'm not officially diagnosed don't come at me, but I struggle alot with reading and writing so yeah!

Anyway, enjoy. Please. I hope everyone likes this as much as I do!

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It isn't that Wade can't read- or that he doesn't want to- it's more that it's a massive fucking struggle. Most of the time anyway.

He's always had trouble reading (and spelling, but he can avoid that with emojis now! How technology grows!) ever since he was a kid.

And maybe it's because he didn't grow up in a great environment, or maybe it's because he was never really encouraged, but Wade never ever mentions it. Not to anyone.

He never told anyone when he was in school that sometimes words didn't really make sense to him, and that he was behind in work because of it, not because he would sit and talk (though he did that too). He never told anyone that he preferred art over english because it was easier to understand a picture to him than it was words. He never told anyone that he struggled to spell simple words like "bakery" and "shopping" but could spell "because" and "beautiful" because of a stupid rhyme he had heard once.

It was just something he had grown up with- something he had assumed other kids dealt with- u til he got to high school. Suddenly, he was surrounded by people writing 3000 word essays like they were nothing and people reading 200 page books during lunch, all while Wade still hadn't finished a single book he owned. While Wade still struggled to understand words that weren't in a specific font or colour- something he had realised shortly after turning 10- and everyone around him could just do it. They didn't take 10 minutes to finish a page of a book. They didn't get headaches from the concentration he had to use while staring at a page trying to figure out if the word "wandering" was spelt correctly. They didn't struggle to read the teachers writing because of the cursive writing. They could all just do it and Wade had to just sit and try.

Naturally, people noticed that he would read slowly and awkwardly when they read aloud in class, or that his work always came back covered in red pen from where he had misspelled simple words. He quickly became a target for bullying. Honestly, he probably wouldn't feel as self conscious as he does if that hadn't happened. If teachers had just stepped in and helped- noticed that something was wrong- he would've gotten some help and grown up with accommodations that would've helped him succeed. But he didn't get any of that. He got bullied for reading slowly and being dumb. He got kicked and punched because he had been spotted reading a book meant for younger kids (big mistake).

Wade tried. He did. He read books as often as he could to try and make his brain click- and it never worked. He would try and spell random words- and sometimes he got them and sometimes he didnt- and eventually he gave up. Eventually he succumbed to the voice in his head telling him he was stupid and that he was just going to have to go through life suffering.

And as he got older, he figured out stuff that helped and stuff that didn't. He managed to find a few fonts that helped, a few overlays that made it easier, and a few things to remind him how to spell certain words he usually struggled with.

He also got better at hiding it. Wade would tell people he preferred calls over text. He would open birthday cards and smile at the writing even if he couldn't quiet make out what it said. He would avoid anything that involved him reading in public.

And again, not because he couldn't read, but because it might take him alittle longer than it should, and the idea people would notice made his stomach fill with anxiety, sending him right back to being that scrawny kid I high-school who got beaten up every lunch time.

All of that only got worse after his accident. Well, the cancer and the torture and the murders, but ya know.

Now people were staring at him anyway. People would look and gasp and gawk as he walked down the street or went to the store to get groceries. Everywhere he went people stared. Everywhere.

So instead of being slightly worried people would notice him focusing too hard on reading, he was fully aware people were staring at him constantly because of his skin, and he liked to avoid giving them anymore reasons to stare.

To his suprise though, moving in with Al had helped. She was the only person he had told, and she was the only person who seemed to understand, telling him about something called dyslexia and telling him that his brain just worked alittle different than his. Then proceeded to pass out after using the last of her cocaine- but the thought was still there.

And she didn't seem to mind that he read alittle slower sometimes, because she still asked him to read her mail to her, and sometimes write letters or cards. Wade would have to ask her how to spell the words, but she never seemed to get angry about it, and she always seemed to know how to spell them. Plus, if anyone noticed it wasn't spelt right, they could blame it on her being blind (how was the recipient to know this letter hadn't been writing by Al? She could probably write stuff if she wanted. She's blind, not stupid.).

When he started to gain friends and family- somehow gaining a little group of them- he didn't feel as bad about them noticing. He still didn't say anything- didn't make it obvious- but he wanted them to know he read there cards. Make sure they knew he read the group chat messages. Make sure they knew he did care (and for some reason, probably because the writer loves this headcannon, it seemed like alot of him showing his cared had to do with reading and spelling), writing them birthday cards and Christmas cards, and responding to every single message.

He found a quick way around the messages. That was easy. Emojis, memes and gifs quickly became his best friend. They were easy to dichiper most of the time, and Wade loved them, so it was a win win! He did write things too, and auto correct usually helped if he was struggling that day, but he was getting better thanks to Al and her bossing about of writing letters to her grandkids.

Writing cards took a little longer, but he spent alot of time on each one, making sure everything look neat and was spelt well. It always made him proud giving someone a card that he knew he spent so much time on, perfecting every last word.

When Logan moved in, it was a topic Wade was trying to avoid. He knew he should tell him- they were getting closer and closer each passing day- but he always felt so stupid trying to explain it. It made him feel stupid, even if he knew he wasn't. Most of the time.

Luckily, it doesn't actually come up for awhile, not until they have moved into their own place and Wade is handing Logan a birthday card with a huge grin on his face, practically bouncing on his feet.

And Logan opens it and reads it, and smirks a little because "I don't think the word awesome is spelt like that" and suddenly Wade's smile is wiped off his face.

He really had tried- maybe he didn't read the word properly off his phone or something- because Wade is taking the card and trying his best to quickly read it but can't, and he let's out a grunt of frustration because rambling at Logan apologetically. "I really tried to fucking spell everything right- I'm the idiot for fucking trying to read the word to spell it- I mean, who does that when you can't even read properly? I can re-do it- gimme like an hour and a half to go get a new card and get Al on the phone to just ask her how to spell it and then I can give you one that isn't fucked up-"

And Logan shuts him up with a small kiss to the forehead, telling him that he "likes this one just fine, has more charm" and Wade wants that to feel reassuring but it somehow doesn't, and it just makes him more annoyed.

So after a small melt down and a good cry in the shower for fucking up Logan's birthday, he explains it to Logan. Tells him about how he sometimes struggles with reading and spelling, but he really did try with the card. He really does try to read and write properly but some days it's hard and some days he can do it easier, and that he never really told anyone until he met Al. He messily rambles about everything- including the bullying- and Wade expects to be met with some laugh or ridicule. Though, this is Logan- and somehow this man loves every other part of him- so why wouldn't he love this part too?

And Logan just apologises to Wade that he made him feel bad about misspelling the word awesome- makes a joke about how it's a hard word to spell- and that Wade shouldn't have been bullied for something he couldn't help. Tells him that it's nothing to be ashamed off, and that he shouldn't let it hold him back. Tells him that if he ever needs help with spelling something he can ask Logan, that if he ever can't figure out a word that he can ask Logan, asks if there are any accommodations he uses to help him.

And Wade tells him the things that help, the things that don't, thanks him for the offer of help, and suddenly it doesn't seem so terrifying that Logan knows. Suddenly he feels better about it. Sure, Al had helped, but hearing this from Logan made him feel less afraid to hide it. Made him feel better about telling his friends so they knew.

And Logan stays true to his words. He helps him when he is struggling with a word- never jumps in a reads stuff or spells things without being asked first- and even uses some of the accommodations. He has his phone set to a font Wade can read easier, and his next birthday card is in big bold writing (Logan's writing is normally really scribbly and hard to read) and on a colour that helps him focus on the words more.

And he tells his friends and they understand, they do the same. They help if asked, they don't rush him in reading their cards or messages- Yukio starts to use more emojis and Collosus tries his best to give Wade mission debriefs in person or voice messages- and it helps him immensely. He gets more confident about his reading and writing, and he starts to work on ut even more. And yeah, he can't get rid of his dyslexia, but he can try and find new ways that help him. He can find books in safe fonts and listen to the audio book as he reads to help (Though, he does prefer listening to Logan read to him, because his voice is so smooth and gruff somehow, and he could listen to it for hours).

Wade hated that stupid part of himself for so long, but now- even if he is 47- he doesn't really mind it anymore. He makes jokes about his spelling errors or words he missreads, and he works on finding new things to help with Logan, and everything is alittle bit easier knowing he isn't going to be ridiculed and judged.

(People who said they wanted this, I hope you enjoy! @wadewnstonwilson @logictoinsanity @zerotoqueero @superbattrash @spoopderman @klszkas @ohitsthemindstuffagain @mangoob @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes (tagging yall who said you wanted to read it!))

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

[grugruel]

Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a metaphor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

[gyuvision]

[2:58am]

pairing : brothers bsf hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : smut(!) - fingering, kissing, swearing, petnames (poor thing, sweet girl, baby doll), borderline dumbification/dollification, dacryphilia, situationship

wc : 1.8k

preview ! - when you and your friends rent a vacation home for winter break, its a no brainer seunghan is the one you go to when youre needy. but how will you go about it when your brothers room is right next door?

continue? ⬇️

you rolled over to look at the clock on the other side of your bed. “2:58am” it read in a big red font. you groaned at how you felt your panties stick to you, drowning in your slick.

today had been spent at the pool that came with the vacation home, which meant shirtless seunghan. which meant growing horny in front of your friends and your brother eunseok. which meant needing some sort of relief despite not being able to get considering eunseok has made it VERY clear he wants none of his friends anywhere near his baby sister in that sense.

seunghan wasnt oblivious, he saw how you stared at him, he knew that look, hes seen it before. that look you always gave him when you snuck out your house to drive to his place whenever you were needy.

hed be lying if he said he wasnt turned on either though. you with your wet hair laughing with your friends, with the white bikini that he so badly just wanted to untie.

but he played it off better than you, acting nonchalant as accordingly.

at least until it was time to exit for dinner, seunghan made sure he was last to enter, pulling you back by your arm after everyone else walked in so you two were the only ones outside.

“meet me in my room, 3am, no later than.” he winked as he ran a hand over your waist before walking back inside too.

so here you were, 3am, no later than, sitting on his bed next to him. you brushed his hair out of his pretty face, cooing as he pouted with his face pressed into his pillow.

you sighed as you looked at his sleeping figure. he must be joking. he hadnt really forgotten had he? but you couldnt blame him. today was tiring for him too, having to deal with wonbin constantly demanding a rematch in volleyball ‘cause he kept losing.

you lifted seunghans covers and crawled into the bed next to him, pressing your cold face into his warm chest. you pressed your hand into his cheek, rubbing circles with your thumb before you stopped, letting your hand rest there as you leaned further into his body.

“what are you doing y/nie?” he whispered sleepily, smiling as he brought an arm down to your waist.

“im cold. keep me warm wont you?” you mumbled, lifting your head up to peck his lips.

“shit, its 3am already.. i was just trying to take a quick nap.”

“baby!” you pouted, “you promised!”

“sorry sweet girl, im so tired. ill make it up to you tomorrow.” he spoke in a low tone as a warning to you, letting you know you were talking too loud when you seemed to forget eunseok was asleep on the other side of the wall.

you squirmed in his grasp as he tightened his hold on your waist, while you went a short incoherent rant.

“hey- quit moving. be good or youre not getting anything at all.” he grumbled, moving so he had his chin resting on top of your head.

you sighed, realizing maybe he deserved to sleep more than you need release even if you werent able to sleep yourself with how much you wanted him

you closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep, hoping his touch would be enough. but you just couldnt.

lifting the covers off of you, you tried to slip out of seunghans bed knowing him pressed against you wasnt going to help your situation, but he pulled you back, feeling even closer than before. “where are you going?”

“back to my room.”

“you said you were cold. my rooms a higher temperature than yours, stay here.”

“cant stay here, eunseok might come in.”

“youre paranoid arent you?” he licked his lips, trailing a hand down your side. “poor thing.. left you needy all night huh? thats cute. all you got in that empty head of yours is me huh?”

you felt him push on your thighs, spreading your legs open as his hand crept up your shorts. “these need to come off dont you think?”. he tugged on the waistband, pulling it down as you lifted up your hips. he opened his drawer, and put your shorts inside.

“you can get those back later.” he smirked. he was always talkative in bed, you couldnt say you minded, in fact you found it pretty attractive of him.

“seunghan, stop teasing.” you pleaded, gripping his shoulder. he cooed at your desperation, “such a needy girl.. poor y/nie, left needy all night long huh? dont worry babydoll. ill take such good care of you.”

your breath hitched when you felt him slowly slip two fingers into you, setting a steady pace as he began to massage your walls.

you looked over at your beautiful boy (not boyfriend yet, ouch), propped up on his side next to you, leaning on one arm as he used his other to thrust into you.

you mewled as hit that spot that had you wailing in his sheets, your head tipping back softly when he began to move faster once he knew where to aim for.

it wasnt too long after that when he pulled out, but before you got the chance to complain, he was pulling you on his lap and you felt his fingers enter you at another angle seconds later.

you whimpered lowly and airy when he kissed on your earlobe, beginning to suckle softly before going down and leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“what were you thinking when you put those on?” seunghan asked, gesturing to your shorts which sat at the bottom of his drawer. “bet you wanted someone to see you. was it.. wonbin? was it.. shotaro? or was it.. me?” he asked, pulling out his fingers all the way before plunging back in deep and hard for emphasis.

you moaned out loud (maybe too loud) when your sounds grew higher in volume and pitch as he thrusted in and out repeatedly, desperate to watch you fall apart.

he knew you were close when you began to clench uncontrollably around his fingers, smirking to himself when he saw tears form in the corners of your eyes.

“gonna cry for me baby? so desperate arent you. bet you couldnt get off without me. my fingers are better than anyones arent they? no one else can have you wailing like this after barely starting other than me.” he chuckled when you grip his hair, pulling him into your neck as you began to slowly ride his fingers, matching his pace desperately.

“seunghan.. so close..” you whine, practically sobbing as your tears flowed nonstop when he had 3 fingers working on you. the arm he once had around your waist moved down so he could rub circles on your clit.

but everything seemed to stop when he heard a knock at his door.

“seunghan? are you awake? i heard something so i assumed you are. everyone else is still sleeping.” you heard sungchans voice.

“what do you need? its almost 4 in the morning.”

it was silent, sungchan seeming to pause before speaking.

“can i come in?”

seunghan wasnt sure how to approach the situation. he could have you hide in the closet, or he could say no because he couldnt dare rip apart from his pretty girl, wanting nothing more than to take care of her.

he looked over at you, obviously shaking your head no.

then something came to him, a third option floating around.

“seunghan?” sungchan asked again.

“y-yeah. just give me a minute.” he replied.

“what the hell are you doing? what am i gonna do?” you whispered directly into his ear, frowning at his stupid smirk. “i wanna wipe that stupid look of your face right now.”

“just trust me sweetheart.”

he rushed to pull you off his lap, motioning for you to go further under the sheets. he had you lying down with your head in his lap as you sat between his legs, completely covered by the comforter.

seunghan took one of his pillows from behind him and placed it on his lap to cover your head, making it seem like he was the only person there.

he kept his right hand on your clit, rubbing circles and ignoring your protests as he called for sungchan to come in with his left hand on top of the pillow as he pretended to scroll on his phone.

“whats wrong? you okay?” he asked, before turning it off.

“just bored, cant sleep. wanted to talk to someone.” sungchan replied.

you listened as they began a random conversation about work, school, food, games, and other things you werent listening on. shocked was an understatement. you couldnt believe how normal he was acting with sungchan sitting right there as if he wasnt rubbing on your clit.

seunghan felt you begin to shake, and sped up his movements as he knew you were almost there.

“so i never knew he- you good man?” sungchan paused, motioning to the bed shaking.

“huh?” seunghan stopped before he realized it looked like your legs were in place of his under the covers. “oh, yeah. just cold.” he smiled, rubbing his arm as it looked like he had goosebumps.

“your room has the highest temperature compared to anyone elses.”

“ive got a thin blanket though.”

he shrugged it off and continue what he was talking about.

seunghan had to cover up your muffled moans as a cough when he felt your cum leak onto his hand, ignoring sungchans suspicious looks.

it took everything in you to keep quiet, not to mention you were suffocating under the fabric.

you sighed at seunghan, who practically seemed like he wanted to get caught as he rode out your high, lazily thrusting two fingers into you with his thumb on your clit.

it was only a few minutes later when you finally heard sungchan get up to leave.

he was already in the hallway before walking back in, letting his hand rest on the door.

“youre lucky it was me who came in and not eunseok.”

[matchadobo]

Hello! Is it possible to request Kid X Reader where the Reader is a virgin and Kid is loving and soft with her? I love soft Kid and how you write Kid in general. Thank you!

KIDD; soft and loving kidd

warning/s: nsfw under the cut, afab reader, has sfw (a bit suggestive bUT ONLY A BIT REALLY LIKE 2%) and nsfw hcs, might melt your heart, the red fonts indicate that it is under the previous bullet

SFW

kidd was your first kiss, first love, and first partner

ahh first kiss with kidd, it would be comical. let's just say, kidd would have had ENOUGH of your cuteness and he'd just march in your room while you were doing your hobbies. he would be so fucking red. you asked him if he was drunk and he said yes.

"i'm fucking obsessed with you." he'd say before going on a rant on how pretty your eyes are, how your touch feels like an absolute wildfire, how your smile is too contagious he loses his cool, how your voice is too pleasant to his ears you could talk about total fucking nonsense and he'd still swoon, and how you always look at him with the same love in your eyes

you were so fucking shocked you started crying

he'd just stand there, like a lamp post, while waiting for you to catch your breath and pick up your jaw

"c-can i kiss you? i'll kiss you." kidd waltzed towards you, bending down to your height, lifting your chin and colliding his lips with yours

his lips was soft and tasted sweet, must be lipstick. the rum made it bitter

once he feels you melt into the kiss, he'd smile through it before angling his face on the other side to kiss you better. he figured you didn't know how to kiss 😖

"you go like this, name." he angled his face one more to the other side, puckering up his lips before sucking on your lower lip. "don't freeze like goddamn ice, okay?" he snorted. "move your lips. kiss me. suck it. follow my rhythm." with each phrase, his actions mimicked his words. you were on fucking fire.

it was a pretty long kiss. you soon got the hang of it. once you two pulled away to catch your breath, kidd's heart almost exploded when he saw how swollen your lips are and how flushed your cheeks were. what a fucking darling you are

it would be absurd to think that someone like you would end up with someone like him. a thorn like him with a rose like you

he'd always have a scowl in his face but when he sees you, it loosens up a bit. he turns into a blushing mess at the littles things you do

since he was your first relationship, you were really navigating the boundaries and hows of it. it also took a lot of patience since, well, it was kidd

he wasn't used to having you follow him around all day but he loves it

you weren't used to having him behind you, arms by your side as he caged you. when he feels you up, humming in your ear, and his cologne drives you nuts

he wasn't used to your habits to sit on his lap without warning

you weren't used to have his arm protectively around you at all times

he wasn't used to your kisses on his face, he started getting conscious if he smells good or if his face was clean

you weren't used to having this big bear that clung onto you, keeping your bed warm

he wasn't used to waking up next to you, seeing you with your guard completely down around him

you weren't used to seeing kidd all vulnerable and wasn't scowling, instead letting you witness what he was under all that cold exterior that you warmed up

he wasn't used to feeling all this fuzzy and warm on the inside even if you weren't even here, he constantly yearns for you

you weren't used to dealing with kidd in his snotty attitude, it took a lot to be understanding but kidd also did his best when he saw you struggling. that was a challenge for him too

"come here, bug. gimme a hug."

"got you a new dress, come on i wanna see you wear it."

"you want it? i'll steal it for ya." then he proceeds to use his df to the stores to leave no trace

when kidd was courting you, yes he learned how to court 🥺, he will always bring you tiny flower trinkets. on special days he'd have really intricate jewelery that had flowers or butterflies. he'd earnestly find you and give it to you, insisting that you receive it personally 😖

when you were on your period, he'd tiptoe in taking care of you 🥺. he'd be met by your snappy attitude to which he would usually fight back but would later surrender for your well-being. man, a flower like you taught kidd to surrender 🥰. he'd have chocolate and sweets. if your cramps are really bad, he'll help you fall asleep to numb it away

"here, have some chocolates. snappin' at me would get you nowhere."

"as if i'd be goin' anywhere when you're sleepin'. you're clunging onto me like crazy."

"bought you pads and tampons, quit fuckin' whinin' and just hug me."

when cuddling, he always reaches under your shirt to rub your stomach. his cold hands felt good in your warm tummy. soon enough he'd be reaching over your mounds or somewhere down there 👀

when he kisses you he always wants to have a long, deep kiss before pulling away. he'd wanna have a goodbye forehead kiss when you two part ways and went on back to what you were both doing individually

kidd would LOVE and NEED to spoil you. making you trinkets, buying you stuff, and doing things with you even if he puts on a facade that he doesn't wanna be there. he just loves seeing the joy in your face!

NSFW

oh boy is he starving for you

but he'd patiently wait until you're ready

and when you are, this animal would be unforgiving

he'd go hard on the foreplay, playing with your tits under your shirt as he thrives on the little moans and whimpers you make. he'd overstimulate you so much you'd be too tired for the actual deed

but don't get me wrong he won't be rough, he'll just be doing A LOT of stimulation

he'd kiss you a lot during your first time, periodically checking if you're feeling okay. it'll be sloppy kisses tho, always have saliva trailing down your skin with lip marks

"sure you can handle it, flower?" a mix of genuine concern and teasing

it'd be missionary. as much as he REVERES reverse cowgirl so he has a full view of that cake, he'd want your first to be special. he'd want your first to be completely skin on skin with him, maintaining eye contact as he slides it in, kissing while moving, and holding hands so you'd have something to squeeze onto. he'd press foreheads with you, easing your knitted brows as you try and take him all in, clenching along the way

as aforementioned, he wouldn't have much trouble in sliding himself in despite his size because of the amount of foreplay he did on you

"aren't you a pretty fuckin' sight like this, aye?"

"so well, so fuckin' good, my love."

"you're close? enjoyed yourself too much, aye?"

he'd stay forehead-to-forehead with you, exchanging breaths as you both released in each other. he'd mumble a low "fuck," as you did a last clench around him with your release when you were desperately clawing at his neck and back with the ecstacy. "went a little wild there, princess." he'd kiss your cheek, tucking the hair sticking on your face behind your ear. he'll gently throw you over his shoulder, so as to not hurt your cunt by stretching it more on a bridal carry, and bring you to the bath to wash up with you

helllooo thank you for requesting 🌷 this was soooo fun to make i really miss my boy 😍 thank you for the support anon 🥺

[beesorcery]

this is a lawless land where the 8 ball somehow feels less insane than whatever the fuck is happening in the rest of the setlist

(p.s. i found columbus lol. still need milwaukee and minneapolis though)

(edit hey chat it’s me again. found milwaukee 👍)

welcome to my new ongoing graphic design project post because the old post was getting a little bit long! i am recreating this t shirt design:

with the 8 ball songs instead of the city names! here is the most recent iteration, updated through 3/15 (orlando):

[bunny-lily]

Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy. 

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

smol update: this has been (minorly) edited! nothing big, I mostly just went in and fixed up a couple mistakes + summoned my dearly beloved thesaurus. Otherwise, it's basically 98% the same as before!

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on their sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube hardly scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down. 

You weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your instrument. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the spinet – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their cinders, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your upright eighty-eight, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too low for him. What intensely long legs. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the ivories and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the upper panel. You opened it and sifted through a few of the jingle options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the music rack in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The piece consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing. 

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as milky white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so… familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor. 

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the tunes you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach a lot of things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing the fallboard with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru. Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs. 

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could exhale in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ thing alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing music whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Satoru had been your student for a while now. 

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a lullaby he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch nearby, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played. 

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore. 

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old vinyls. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the usual spot.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound his laughter was.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest single quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone. 

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only ever dream of achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the claviature. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh. 

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain. 

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a sonata, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he rasped, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt firsthand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the ballad reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys? 

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the lilt.

Or, rather, the end as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position. 

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in. 

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus. 

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager. 

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the diapason you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. Some clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere. 

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious lullaby your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

HOW COME?

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you go to the Joke shop and take a look around, not realising one of the owners watching you the whole time Warnings: none?

the shop was filled with kids and their parents, looking at everything that piled the shelves, kids wanting to buy everything and the parents shaking their heads at them. you managed to squeeze through and get some room to breath

they'd only been open for a week and it was this packed, it was an understatement to call this shop a hit.

the fluorescent colours were blinding you as you turned to see a boy, his face turning green with his mum by his side.

you looked around, smiling at every item you see. not knowing you were being watched from the second story of the shop.

you always knew the twins were gonna open a joke shop, but now that you're in it, reality hit you, they had really made their dreams come true. and they were successful.

you were friends of theirs, sort of- you weren't in their group but you three definitely talked quite a bit. if there was a project for potions- they would ask for your help and if you were paired up in transfiguration they would do their part.

you made your way over to the area that was glowing with pink and saw a large stand in the shape of flowers, glowing pink and creating little heart bubbles, it made you smile.

you picked up one of the bottles and read the label. you shook your head with a slight laugh as you read love potion in a pretty font.

"I'll give you a discount for that if you want" you heard his voice from behind you

you turned to see Fred with a smile on his face

"but, then again, it would be a useless purchase" he smirked at you, stepping closer, looking down at you

"how come? do they not work?" you asked curiously

"oh they work perfectly, but you're not gonna need it" he shook his head ammused

"and why is that?" you questioned, tilting your head

truth be told, you always had feelings for the boy, he ticked all your boxes. funny, loyal, tall, confident, passionate and witty.

but he was just so popular and almost every girl you know was swoon over him

"why try to use something when it's already worked without it?" he chuckled.

Fred would be an idiot to deny his feelings for you. he never would've told you this in Hogwarts, he never would've been this straight forward with you about this before, because even THE popular Fred Weasley was self-conscious sometimes.

he sometimes just looked at you and felt as though he wasn't enough, that he couldn't give you what you deserved

but now he was a successful business man, making big bucks. when he saw you enter the shop 10 minutes ago, he knew what he had to do, he knew he could give you anything your heart desired, if you'll have him

"how so? last time i checked I've had no guy chase after me" you laughed, putting the bottle down beside you on the flower stand.

you raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response

"who knows, maybe he hasn't been around you for a while, maybe he was waiting for you to come to him" he shrugged confidently.

you knew what he meant, he never failed to make flirtatious comments, so you brushed it off, even though the butterflies made their way to your stomach.

"and who might this young man be? I should probably go find him, I wouldn't want to keep him waiting" you smiled coyly

"I can't remember his name, but I can describe him for you, maybe tell you were he is" he smirked, leaning down

"do tell" you leaned in too, eager to continue and get to the point

"well I heard he has red hair, he's pretty tall too, I heard he's 6'3. he's pretty handsome too, I think you'll like him, he comes from a pretty big family, and I'm pretty sure I see him in the shop everyday" he informed you cheekily

"wow, I never knew George felt that way about me, I should probably go find him" you snickered, looking at his annoyed face. you were only teasing.

"George? that doesn't seem to ring a bell, I'm pretty sure his name started with an F" he rubbed his chin, looking deep in fake thought

"wow" you gasped "you're not implying what I think you are, are you Fred?" you gasp in faux shock

"Fred! that's his name, he sounds dreamy, doesn't he?" he clicked his fingers

"you should see him in person" you chuckled, his smirk dropped and instead, a small smile made it's way onto his lips

"maybe you should go and ask him out, I heard his favourite place is the three broomsticks" he replied joyfully

you hummed, thinking for a second "nah, I'll let him ask me since he's so in love with me"

"I don't know, he might be nervous" he tilted his head

"then you should go tell him he has nothing to be nervous about" you leaned in and whispered to him, as if it was a secret. he smiled and looked at the ground, his tongue running along his upper teeth, tapping the wood of the floor with his boot

"will do" he answered, a sweet grin on his face

"you stay right here, I think I just saw him" he pat your shoulder, stepping away from you before coming back a few seconds later

"hello there" he said happily

"hello Fred, fancy seeing you here!" you beamed

"I know, I thought I'd pop in and see how successful the shop is" he looked around, motioning to all the chaos, making you shake your head in amusement

"it's incredible isn't it? I must say I'm very proud of the two" your comment made him blush slightly, and you could tell it caught him a bit off guard

"so, I don't know if you know this but some handsome young bloke came up to me just then and said you would go on a date with me" he responded

"only if you asked" you blinked

"well then, how would you like to go the three broomsticks with me this weekend, Saturday maybe?" he asked you

"your favourite right?" you raised your eyebrows

he gasped "how'd you know?" he placed a hand over his heart

"lucky guess" you giggled

"so what do you say? will you go out on a date with me? a successful businessman, who is -said to be- very attractive" he question sheepishly

"Saturday?" you asked "I don't know I might be busy-"

"-Sunday?" he cut you off

"I was kidding, Saturday sounds perfect" you grinned up at him

"great, perfect. Meet me here at 11- in the morning, or night, is night better?" he rambled quietly

"11 at night? bit late don't you think?" you questioned

"right yeah, morning is more reasonable" he nodded

"well th-" he started but got cut off by George

"-Fred, I need help!"

Fred looked back at his twin and back at you, sparing a kiss to your cheek

"see you then, Love" he winked before rushing to George

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

[iftrashcouldsparkle]

Hey does anyone wanna hear my thoughts about how Madarame and Fujieda's routes are essentially the same thing but in a different font????? Huge spoilers for the true route of Slow Damage.

Once I started playing Fujieda's route it struck me how it pretty much followed the same story beats as Madarame's:

Towa is confronted with a relic from his past > Something about it nags at him so he starts poking around > He remembers something from his past > He comes to terms with some aspect of his identity > Confrontation with the Takasato asshole that's been causing issues

But aside from that, both Madarame and Fujieda reflect different aspects of Towa's character. Both of their routes revolve around the idea of meeting someone so similar to you that they might as well be a mirror and the understanding that's born from that. The main difference is what they reflect and the traits they bring out in each other.

Madarame essentially reflects all of the things that Maya made Towa into. When they're together, they reflect and amplify the rougher edges of each of their personalities. Towa's apathy, his recklessness, his impulsivity, and his masochism are the things Madarame considers to be Towa's "true self". They're the parts of Towa that he sees reflected in himself; the parts of them that operate on instinct rather than the norms of society. Madarame loves Towa in his own way, and accepts the "roughest" version of himself, but these aspects of his character are things that Towa became because of Maya's abuse. It ultimately works for them and they find their version of happiness, but the more instinctual Towa that Madarame sought out is a version of Towa who is ruled by his coping mechanisms and survival instincts. To find this happiness (a happiness found in pain and danger), Towa must first be broken and regress back into his trauma. Madarame and Towa reflect each other in a way that enables the worst of their behavior.

Fujieda, on the other hand, reflects everything that Towa is DESPITE Maya's influence. (There is still that aspect of mirroring each other through their trauma and their shared scars is one of the big reasons they begin to connect, but it's more than that.) They reflect each other in their resilience in the way they choose to keep living and their refusal to let their trauma further define them. Both Towa and Fujieda suffer from survivor's guilt and consider suicide, and yet both of them make the difficult choice to keep living to some degree because of the other's influence. They reflect each other in the memory of the girl who gives them both the strength to carry on; someone they loved and lost. They reflect the ugliest and truest parts of themselves, showcased in their negative first interactions early in the game and the literal/metaphorical scars they share. Yet, despite how scared they both are at being confronted with someone so similar, they see the beauty and humanity in each other where they struggle to see it in themselves. Because Fujieda's character mirrors Towa's so closely, he's able to relate deeply to Towa and understand how much of his behavior is an attempt to regain his autonomy and recognizes that he could have very easily ended up the same way. Fujieda loves Towa for who he's managed to become despite Maya's abuse, and it's this mutual understanding that allows them to support each other so thoroughly. Fujieda and Towa reflect each other in a way that ultimately supports a journey to healing and recovery.

Anyway, if you actually read all of that I would love to hear your thoughts because it's been rattling around in my brain for too long!

[swallowerofdharma]

Yashiro’s Cruel God part one

Disclaimer: this post contains a detailed and straightforward analysis of chapter 25. Doumeki isn’t the villain, if you were worried about that. Actually I must apologize because I wanted to talk about him too, but as usual I started this meta with Yashiro and got carried away. This is also why I am dividing it in parts to avoid having a very very long post. So other parts will hopefully follow to fully elaborate the premise I made. Thank you for understanding. And please take care of your wellbeing, if mentioning Yashiro’s stepfather upset you, maybe skip this one.

Premise: not a matter of perfection but of balance

This person I followed reblogged the Declarations of healthy adulthood by David Richo in big big font and - having only one thought on my mind apparently - I read all that text in Yashiro’s POV. I actually don’t think that this is a perfect model or anything, and I am generally skeptical of self help books (I only assume this is something like it), but why not use this as an example, while considering something that I find interesting about Yashiro and Doumeki? During the discussion about the latest chapter, I said something along the lines of Doumeki representing young love, while Yashiro’s approach has been more mature, and I meant it thinking about Yashiro being aware and cautious about hurting others [and being intentional when he does, since he put a bullet in Doumeki’s leg] and being quite self reliant, and yes I know that he is also afraid of being hurt/loved! in previous posts here, I have mentioned that Yashiro’s acceptance of his past is only-in-part denial or downplaying of trauma, because it has been also a strategy and an impressive sign of his maturity and determination to live in the present. Isn’t it exceptional that Yashiro doesn’t seem all that resentful of his parents? That he openly says that he doesn’t blame others? We have to confront his words always mindful of the fact that he usually is an unreliable narrator, but in many instances he says the truth or half truths and his demeanor confirmed that he did some of what David Richo proposes: I accept full responsibility for the shape my life has taken; I accept that I may never feel I am receiving - or have received - all the attention I seek; One by one, I drop every expectation of people and things; I let go of blame, regret, vengeance, and the infantile desire to punish those who hurt or reject me; No one can or needs to bail me out. I am not entitled to be taken care of by anyone or anything, I let go of control without losing control.

I thought that it was very interesting to consider the Yashiro/Doumeki dynamics from different angles, like older/younger, or even realist/romantic, for example. The point of this experiment isn’t to make a comparison of merit nor to talk about a character in better light than another. Maybe those differences need to be confronted or balanced: for example the realist maybe needs some of the romantic’s idealism to soar and not be stuck on the ground. Yoneda-san might be onto something so human and amazing here. An important clarification is due before saying anything else. As characters that are written as full human beings, with their complexity and contradictions, Yashiro and Doumeki can’t be put neatly into the opposite categories I proposed. The story is much more dynamic, so I ask you to take a further step and put those opposites at the ends of a spectrum and to move our characters freely in both directions. Yashiro tends toward being effectively the older and more realistic one but he has traits that make him move down towards the other end too, even to the extreme of being childish. Consider for example these other statements, from the Declarations of healthy adulthood: I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts; When change and growth scare me, I still choose them. I may act with fear, but never because of it; I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me; If people knew me as I really am, they would love me for being human like them. These points clearly demonstrate Yashiro’s unresolved problems, where he is stuck if you want, and why probably nobody believed me when I pointed at him as being mature (eh, he has his moments tho, you can’t deny that).

I challenge everyone to consider that those four points in particular are quite challenging for most people in general, but particularly so for someone who has fear/betrayal as the foundational principle in their childhood instead of a normal amount even a scarse amount of parental love/safety. And I want to underline childhood here, not teenage years or later.

I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts. Yashiro here is a mix of contradictions, because he outwardly seems to own those things, even making them a point of his persona, but most of those things are based on the lies he told himself, or his stepfather told him: see this other point

I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me. Isn’t this statement extremely helpful to understand Yashiro’s situation? To feel safe he had to build his personality according to the rules of the one who had all the power over him and had already taken away any sense of security from him. This is probably one of those things that can be hard to understand when you have never been there. Most notably, not only in the manga this has been pointed out, but it has been pointed out by Yashiro himself. He is self conscious of this, he knows that he lied to himself as a child, that he had to, and he is constantly choosing to continue lying because that is still the only foundation he has. There was no familial love, no other relative safety. Letting go of the lies actually means going to pieces and breaking down.

This isn’t different from what happens to people who are tortured. Yashiro’s father completely took away any sense of security and safety. The aggravating circumstances were that Yashiro as a child didn’t have any other point of reference or knowledge to understand what was happening with his body and in that state of mind what his father told him had to be the only truth possible. Parents who abuse their children most often don’t even realize what they are doing to its full extent. That’s the immense cruelty of these types of situations. The rules are lies, but the lies are rules to follow to be safe:

You like it when it hurts, right? If it doesn’t hurt, I can’t get into it.

What happened in chapter 25: why now?

Yashiro didn’t want to have sex with Doumeki and said so repeatedly. Doumeki has grown on him, behind liking his physical appearance or using him as a substitute for Kageyama: Yashiro truly liked this person and he liked that Doumeki was impotent. Thanks to that, Yashiro grew comfortable around Doumeki and with comfort and safety comes familiarity. When Yashiro discovered that the impotence was gone, he was angry and terrified. They had become too close and now the premise has changed and Yashiro couldn’t trust Doumeki or himself anymore. I won’t analyze here the scene in the shower but I’ll skip to the point. Doumeki only understood that his love was required, that he was wanted and stopped thinking. He acted passionately like any young person who had a normal foundation in love would. He didn’t understand anything that Yashiro asked or why there were mixed signals and what it all meant. He pushed and hurt and broke without being aware of what he was doing.

And Yashiro was trapped in a situation he had tried to escape from his all life: with a person who felt familiar, a person he loved and relied on, in the safety of a home, who wanted sex and was going to do what he wanted regardless of what Yashiro had to say. Yashiro desperately tried to control what was happening through usual patterns, making it hurt, asking Doumeki to do from behind, detaching the sex from his emotions, but he couldn’t and for the first time in his life sex was different from what he knew, because while Yashiro had loved his stepfather, his father didn’t love him and he didn’t treat him like Doumeki did. And every lies built around his father’s abuse came to the surface. Including the fact that his father never loved him. Doumeki broke him indeed because he broke through the lies/rules upon which Yashiro had intentionally built his entire personality/safety. And he wasn’t ready for it, he specifically said he didn’t want it, he had known all along, he already knew when men before Doumeki tried to make love to him and when he built a strategy to specifically avoid being confronted with those lies/rules. He didn’t love those men. He did love Doumeki though. But once again Yashiro didn’t have a choice. And he was physically hurt and recovering after being shot and knowing his life was in danger outside of that room. He had just discovered that Doumeki lied about being impotent the previous time he touched him in the car and before that. It was probably the worst timing possible for making love. At some point Yashiro grew resigned and even reciprocated a little, reaching for Doumeki, caressing his face, and he even reassured him before he fell asleep. There were words that Doumeki said that Yoneda didn’t disclose fully, choosing instead to immediately took us in the flashback with Yashiro. I think it is probable that what Doumeki said was something that Yashiro’s father had said and that we are going to confront before the end of the manga. I personally want to know these words more than what Yashiro said while an airplane passed by and Doumeki was unconscious. Morbid maybe on my part.

I have stated that I am not going to make Doumeki a villain here. The point of this analysis is just to see where Doumeki was in terms of maturity. To be continued…

[whirligig-girl]

Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends aired on this day 40 years ago. Here's a portrait of the tank engine of the hour.

I usually draw Thomas as a sort of freelance design or "railway series" inspired design, with a few more realistic features and so on, if not as a straight up accurate or slightly modified E2.

But this drawing is a study of the Gauge 1 (1:32 scale) plastic prop built for Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends season 1. Proportions could be a little better; the wheels might be a little small and the boiler a little big. oh well.

A fun detail about the design is it's mostly using flat plastic-card and tubing of just a single radius. So the curve on the front footplate is actually the same curvature as the boiler. I believe the splashers are also the same diameter, but I'm not sure. The cab roof is probably slightly curved plastic-card. I'm not sure how the boiler and funnel are made, probably some amount of sculpting went into it. The chassis is a heavily modified german gauge 1 model built by Marklin, and the details like the vacuum brake pipe (the big tubing of the S1 version of the model looks way better to me than the like, floating pipe we see in later variants of the model), headlamp, and screw-link couplers are also taken from Marklin engines.

There's often discussion of what makes an engine a "RWS" version of an engine, but comparing the Gauge 1 prop to the first illustrations of Thomas from the Railway Series books, it's pretty much spot on. The double-whistle seems to be a slight misinterpretation of the safety valve assembly, and the lamp isn't especially accurate, and the font on the "1" is a little different, but it's basically like the drawing come to life. By comparison, it's usually the later versions of Thomas that people are attempting to evoke with "RWS" versions.

I also noticed that the lining appears to have like, white around it, almost like it's a print-out or something, rather than painted directly onto the model. So that's in my drawing too; and it actually kinda helps blend between the red lining and the blue paint a little better.

[folkbreeze]

hiya! I did check if you had a resource page but couldn't find one (sorry if I missed it!) I was wondering what re/gshade preset your using? Also how did you make your weather/task templates for gameplay like here (post/736165530204028928/completed-task-swim-for-1-hour-in-wakabas) I wouldn't even know where to start in photoshop lol Thank you!

hello, hello!! I don't have a resource page yet so don't worry! l'm using a personal, sorry.

how i make my templates under the cuts (reminder that english is not my first language and that i have photoshop in spanish so i don't know the actual name of things in english)

we'll be creating the simple one from here:

Now, for the templates, it depends on what i want to do, but i usually try to keep them simple, so I use mainly 2 photoshop tools: as you can see here, the weather template I made has (1) a rectangle layer, (2) an image and (3) text layers.

keeping this in mind, let's create a thing (a bank notification) together so I can show you the steps I follow:

(0) Create a new file

There's no size I ALWAYS use, but i usually choose a bigger size since i can always resize it down later when I use it (if it's too small and you have to resize it to be bigger, it might end up looking pixelated). You can also open one of your screenies in the size you usually edit them, and deciding how big your template has to be.

(0.1)

I recommend creating a group (using the little folder icon) where you will drop all the layers of the template so you can move it around and all that

(1) Shapes

This is the first thing I always do for this type of templates, just create a base shape that will contain all the other stuff on top. In this case i created a rectangle with rounded corners.

you can use those circles in the corners to round them or make them pointy. If you press alt while doing it, you can round corners individually.

I added a parallel shadow so it integrates better with the whole screenie, but that's a personal preference.

(2) Now, if you want to have icons/images/etc. I recommend creating another shape (in another color, just so you can see it), and positioning it where you want your image to go.

Now you want to transform that shape to an intelligent object (right click the layer and click that option). This way, if you double click the layer image, it will open in another tab: you can add your image/icon there, click save, and when you go back to the other tab, it will be there. Much easier to edit it! An intelligent object layer will look like this:

(2) Text is literally what MAKES most of templates. When you're creating templates, i recommend looking for inspo AND getting fitting fonts for it. Let's say I want to create a netflix template: i'd do a quick google search to find what fonts does netflix use. Sometimes fonts are not free, but try looking for similar ones.

I'm using manrope for this one because it's simple and easy to read, but when i'm doing this kind of phone notifications i also use fonts that are usually called something UI.

Now you only have to move things around until you like it. Then save it as a .psd so you can edit it and use it whenever you want and that's it!

(4) This is how it looks like

you can now edit it as you want, lower the base rectangle opacity, add more shadow, change the colors...

From this simple thing, i created another version using... you guessed it: another shape, another icon and another text layer. Here you can see the final templates being used in a screenie:

Honestly, don't let the big amount of tools and options photoshop scare you! As you can see, you don't need much to create something like this

Hope this was helpful enough! Let me know if you have questions 🧡

[strawbbcake]

I'm european, and I don't trust myself to throw around facts about usa politics, so I'm just gonna shut my mouth about this. I do wish kamala would've won tho, that's the only thing I'll say

anyway, I do want to complain about the politics in my country. sorry for anything that might not make sense. translating this is a bit hard ngl.

here, in austria, we had elections for the national council a while back. a party named fpö won. fpö stands for "freedom party austria." it's a right extremist party, standing for the traditional hetero family, against immigrants, against abortion and its overall pretty extreme and problematic.

the politician Herbert Kickl, which is part of fpö, often comes across as extremely aggressive, in my opinion. "Festung Österreich" which basically means "fortress austria" seems to be his idea of the perfect austria. he'd like to close the borders and send immigrants to other countries. (more on that in a sec)

his claims are so problematic sometimes, it's insane. he is the type of person that just complains and hates and throws insults around. he thinks climate change doesn't exist (or if it does, isn't man-made), and has some problematic claims that you can research if you want, I don't want this to get too long.

as of coming across as aggressive, he often reminds (not only me but a lot of ppl) of Hitler at his speeches. he calls himself "Volkskanzler" (Idk how to correctly translate that), which, surprise surprise, the nazis called Hitler. this isn't a controversial opinion of mine, as wild as it may sound, a lot of people think this way

coming back to the deportation of immigrants, the party wants to deport criminal or illegal immigrants. I understand that, yes, but it truly isn't just criminal immigrants. anyone that I know, that is a fan of the fpö, is very hateful of any immigrant at all. "if they work, they can stay". sometimes people coming here have to wait a long ass time to even be able to go work.

one thing I don't understand about this at all is all the boys my age that think it's cool to vote for this party. they're either not austrian themselves or have a ton of friends that aren't. pisses me off a lot

at the end I wanna talk about the election posters?? they're weird as fuck, if I can say so. I'll try my best to translate some.

"your will be done" - which is a verse in the bible and a christian song

"the only one on your side" - self explanatory

stuff like that. I just find them weird and uncomfortable because most of them are just plain white with big blue font on top, but that's just my opinion. what's really noticeable tho, is that almost 80% of the posters I see are scribbled on or ripped, which really says a lot. I've never seen a drawn on poster from another party. things I've seen on there are "nazi pigs" "no 4th reich" "fascists",....going on like that.

anyways, if you've read all that... thank you? I don't really expect anyone to. I just really wanted to rant about this. maybe it's nice for people outside of austria to see how politics are going here, I'm not sure if Americans, for example, have any clue about this. if I said anything that's incorrect, feel free to correct me anytime. I don't mind at all as long as no one insults me.

[soleilnmity]

Doujinshi - [U.S.O (Tankinu Nagase/Shinshu Ueda)] Megami Ibunroku Persona/ Persona 2 dj assortment [RAW]

Titles: (Megami Ibunroku Persona) 阿頼耶DEGO (Alaya de Go), リバース (Reverse) , ゴーバッド (Go Bad) (Persona 2) BIG BAD BINGO, CARRY THAT WEIGHT!

Artist: タンキーヌ・ナガセ (Tankinu Nagase) [Shinshu Ueda's penname for doujinshi) Circle: U.S.O (For Megami Ibunroku doujinshi) ESTMA (For P2EP doujinshi) Google Drive link

Personal Notes: I always wanted to upload these doujinshi, but I usually refrain from posting pure raws because I want the translations too…Unfortunately, I cannot defeat my archenemesis </3 japanese handwriting, and Nagase/Shinshu's handwriting is very……..messy x_x. For some of these, I still want to try my hand at translating eventually, but it'll definitely take a while. I love translating little artist notes and there's a lot of those in every doujinshi so if I can't translate something absolutely fully I end up giving up orz. In any case, yes. These are doujinshi made by Shinshu Ueda under the name of Tankinu Nagase in their doujin circle U.S.O. There are 5 doujinshi attached, 3 for Megami Ibunroku Persona and 2 for Persona 2.

270823 Edit: リバース has now been fully translated! The gdrive has been updated to reflect that. Please thank @falsekaiba for the typesetting and translation! Really well made 🙏 it will also be found in Mangadex as well.

Under the cut are some small explanations for the others, but I'll go straight for the P2EP doujin for introduction, as I actually translated bits of that one.

Title: CARRY THAT WEIGHT! - Eternal Punishment focus (PG, small bits of Kandori mixed in with a Post-EP story) Original printing date: 2000/08/12

This is the only doujinshi of Tankinu that was published under a different circle than their usual "U.S.O.", called "ESTMA". I have never found any other doujinshi of them under this label, and if there were any, they might be lost to time. The first page warns about the book containing spoilers for the ending of EP, so it's advised to proceed with caution. After that, all the way up to page 7 there's small gag bits with Kandori, and an obligatory Naoya illustration (they really seems to like him so much ww). From page 8 to 23 is the actual story of the doujin, "Phantom Pain". FORTUNATELY, it was all written in computer text (not handwritten) and I thought it was such a good story, that I took the time to actually translate it at least. The pictures attached to this post are the translation of those pages. There might be some errors in some of the handwritten parts, but I hope I did well.

TL Notes: アンプ (Amplifier / Ampli), The change in fonts is supposed to represent that Eikichi is talking in english there in the original japanese (but that's hard to showcase to an english translation duh), I keep honorifics like Senpai and Aniki as-is.

I was surprised to know that these doujinshi were never talked about (nor were they ever scanned), but now they exist for all to see.

Now, for the rest of the doujinshi.

Title: Reverse/リバース - Naoya and Kandori (+misc) (PG, a bit of a general all-genre doujinshi mixing doodles for other games and a second half focusing on BAROQUE) Original printing date: 1997/12/28. 2nd reprint 1999/12/24. Has a small gag story called "Dead man's questions" about Kandori in a strange flashy outfit.

English Translated (Google Drive)

Title: Alaya de Go/ 阿頼耶DEGO - Shadow Naoya/Naoya (BL, not explicit but Naoya has (implied) sex with his shadow) Original printing date: 1997/12/28. 2nd reprint 1998/08/14. 3rd reprint 1999/05/03 Naoya is called "Isurugi Tatsuya" (岩動 達弥) in this doujinshi.

Title: Go bad/ゴーバッド - Naoya/Hidehiko (BL, Naoya kisses Hidehiko. Seems to have crossover bits from BAROQUE, another ATLUS game Ueda/Nagase did doujinshi for) Original printing date: 1998/12/29. 2nd reprint 1999/05/03. Despite the cover being Naoya with a skirt, there's no crossdressing involved.

Title: BIG BAD BINGO - Innocent Sin focus (PG, done with collaboration with another artist which is Superunknown Corp's sho太郎/沢田翔) Original printing date: 1999/08/??

This doujin physically has Superunknown's side be printed downwards, so you have to flip the doujinshi to read their part which is pretty nice. Unfortunately this is the only one of U.S.O. doujinshi without an specific day of printing, just vague August 1999.

And that's pretty much what I can say for now, at least until when I get to translating some of these (and the folder will be updated accordingly when so)

Sorry, but I don't allow reposts of these scans unless it's with permission (specially not twitter gimmick accounts that are 'daily character accs', etc). However, if you want to translate these you can do that anytime even without my permission! As long as you credit me for the raws (and @ me while you're at it because I want to know...). You can also edit, crop, use them for avatars and whatnot, whatever you want, just that I specifically don't want the whole doujinshi reposted itself without my credit. Just that, sorry for what inconveniences it causes www

[aashiqeddiediaz]

gradient text tutorial

This tutorial is for @ladynephthyss​​ but y’all can have it too xD

We’ll be adding text so the final gif looks like this:

This tutorial assumes basic knowledge of gif-making, Photoshop, and coloring. I’ve only described the text tutorial in this.

Tutorial under the cut:

Couple things to note beforehand:

There is a lot of trial and error involved when doing any sort of text, and this is no exception! You might have to play around with the colors and the settings before you find something that looks good and readable!

This tutorial is inspired by the difference text effect in these tutorials: one and two by @anya-chalotra​ (highly recommend checking those out!), just done a different way.

This text effect works better on big gifs (540px width) that have quite a bit of movement below the text so you get that effect.

Find fonts that have bold shapes or some width to them, so you can see the movement.

This is my starting gif, after sharpening and coloring.

First, I position my text where I want it. (this can be moved around later, I just like to get an idea). Remember what I said about fonts? Try to use ones that are thick for this effect so you can see the gradient/movement underneath the letters. I’m using Intro. 

It doesn’t matter what color the text is at this stage, I just do white text so I can see it:

Then, add a gradient map in the color you want your text to be. For this one, I chose black and purple. The more contrast there is in your colors, the better it looks. You’ll be able to change this later though, if you don’t like the way it looks. 

This is how it looks with the gradient map:

Now, we’re going to go over into our layers panel, and where we have the white box (the layer box), we’re going to select and delete that...

...so it looks like this:

Then, while pressing Ctrl, we’re going to hover our mouse over the T in our text layer. Your cursor should show a white box with a dotted border. Press the T in the text with the specialized cursor, and you should get a dotted line all around the letters, like so: 

(I’m not able to get a screenshot of the cursor for some reason but I hope the instruction made it clear!)

Then, make sure you have your gradient map layer selected, and press the layer mask button (shown by a white arrow in the below image - it looks like a white rectangle with a black circle in the middle.)

This is what it should look like:

Right now, it’ll look like some solid color (which depends on your gradient). This is because we still have the text layer visible. Once we press the eye icon next to the actual text layer to hide it, you can see that this is what it looks like:

(You can also delete the text layer, but I don’t, just because if I decide to put these two words on two lines, or change their spacing or whatever, I don’t want to have to make a new layer. I can just edit that one before re-masking.)

As you play your gif, you’ll see that this is what the whole movement looks like:

You can see that the movement of him lifting the glass to drink his tea shows through the text, too. Almost like a weird color X-ray type thing, where the lighter color shows on darker shades of the gif, and the darker color shows on the lighter part of the gif.

Note: sometimes, depending on the way your gradient is made, you might get text that looks like the picture below. Just hit the reverse button (shown with a white arrow), and you should get the text looking like it does above.

This is the basic way to do it. Now, we can easily edit this, if we feel like there’s too much purple and not enough black. To do that, we go into the gradient, and change the slider positions of the colors. This is purely an aesthetic preference, but I’ll show you how to do it below:

For example, I moved those sliders so there’s more black and less purple, and the gradient feels more like two colors only, instead of all the various hues of dark purple/gray-purple. 

This is what the gif looks like:

In the gif before this one, the black was more of a muted gray. In the one directly above, you can see that it looks much more striking. So play around with that until you find something you like. 

It still doesn’t look very visible to me, so I’m going to add a drop shadow underneath (again, this is a preference thing). You’d do it just like you would with a regular text layer. Right click the Gradient Map layer and select Blending Options. Add a drop shadow.

This is what mine looks like:

And that’s it! You can keep playing around with the whole thing until you’re happy with it. You can even keep changing the color, and the great thing about that is you’ll be able to preview it as you change it to see what works with your scene. For example, I tried white and black text here:

And that’s it! Feel free to drop me an ask if anything’s confusing! Happy giffing!