#if you saw a similar post no you didn’t

[blue-jisungs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ BLUEY & BREAKFAST 🧸ྀི — husband girl dad doyo:( soft morning:( ( wc 1455 )

[ extras ] reader is breastfeeding but nothing crazy (although doyo has a ‘a man is a man’ moment IJBOL)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! i had to take a small break from my event and write this bc girl dad doyo wouldn’t leave my mind and yall need to know it too! besides posting this for @yudaies !!! hopefully it’ll cheer you up babes <3

@kstrucknet ♡

you gradually grew awake, remains of sleep fading away. not brave enough to open your eyes yet, you reach out to grab doyoung’s hand in the seek of more warmth. 

but you don’t meet his hand nor… him. your hand stumbled upon something soft, tender; a peach fuzz alike feeling underneath your fingertips. you frowned and traced the texture, smooth and soft. 

you opened your eyes and lying next to you, on doyoung’s spot, was your daughter. 

you grinned sleepily. she was six months old so your husband probably carried her here. it warmed your heart to see that he also put a blanket over her (and you). probably on his way out to work, too.

she recently started teething so last night was full of crying, from both sides. doyoung was asleep since he had to leave early. 

you traced miyoung’s rosy cheek and then rubbed your eye. you would love to get more sleep. actually, maybe you could… 

a soft babble cut in just in time. miyoung’s big brown eyes opened slowly and started making small sounds. 

“matching our sleep schedules now, are we?” you whispered amused. your daughter stared at you, waving her hands “let’s get up, hm?” 

you stretched, allowing the duvet to fall from your body. then, you grabbed miyoung in your arms and while rocking her gently, you went to wash your teeth first and then to the kitchen. 

just when you were about to come out of the corridor to enter the room, you heard a noise. 

your heart skipped a beat in your chest, halting your movements and listening in. there were faint clanking noises coming from the kitchen. 

but you’re home alone…? 

you leaned out of the wall to peek and let out a sigh upon noticing a similar silhouette. not to say that you weren’t surprised, though. 

“am i doing it wrong? why isn’t it… growing…” 

you smiled and walked in, quietly observing the situation unfolding in front of you. miyoung was toying with the material of your shirt quietly. 

“no, something is definitely not right” 

he was watching something on the pan, leaning on his left hand and tapping the counter in deep thought. 

“i added more milk!” 

doyoung slightly turned yet didn’t see you. he was focused on kyungmi who was sitting on the counter and toying with the milk bottle. you saw him break into a huge smile, hands going to caress your older daughter’s cheeks.

“i like milk” she hummed and looked up at him with a grin. her eyes shifted away and widened upon seeing you “yikes, mommy’s up!” 

doyoung whipped his head around, gaze softening.

“yikes…?” you repeated amused, finally coming to approach them. 

“i think having sakuya and ryo over the other day was a bad idea” doyoung admitted and giggled. you noticed that he’s still in his pyjamas with hair disheveled. it was 10am, he should be at work… “morning, baby” doyoung whispered and shortly after you felt his soft lips brush against yours. the taste of coffee lingered on them and you sighed dreamily. 

miyoung babbled and yanked the hem of doyoung’s shirt, making his nose bump into yours. you giggled into the kiss, and so did he. 

“we are making breakfast!” kyungmi, your lovely 5 year old, cheered. doyoung gasped and turned around, suddenly remembering about the pancakes on the pan. 

“big mi decided to add extra milk though so…” he chuckled and flipped them “no wonder they were so runny and took so long”

“run?” she asked, chuckling. you leaned and pressed a kiss onto her forehead “pancakes run?” 

you just smiled and sat down, caressing miyoung’s dark hair. she’ll probably be hungry soon too, especially after a whole night of crying. 

“how come you’re not at work?” you asked, staring at your husband’s back. a sight so simple, yet heartwarming. 

“i felt bad whenever you kept waking up to get little mi. so just when i was about to leave and this rascal started crying again, i just… i knew you’d be tired. didn’t want to dump it all on you” doyoung said softly. you caught kyungmi chuckling at the word ‘dump’ and you just scoffed. “i called in and said my girls are sick. also, like, come on. i’m thirty, been in the company longer than some of the youngsters have been alive. they get it” 

“thank you” you hummed, a warm feeling spilling all over your heart. whether it was gratitude or simple love, you weren’t sure. 

you chatted while doyoung finished making the rest of the pancakes. with the help of kyungmi  served beautifully decorated breakfast. strawberries and other fruits, whipped cream, even some nutella to pick from. the steaming food made you salivate, not to mention the luring smell of coffee. your stomach growled suddenly, kyungmi laughing. 

“mom!” 

you just shook your head and heard a small whine from your youngest. 

“you’re hungry too, huh?” you asked softly and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. doyoung sent you a worried look. you shook your head and shot him a reassuring smile “don’t worry. eat. you worked hard” 

“mom, can i put some strawberries for you?” big mi asked with sparkles of joy in her brown, doe eyes. 

“of course, sweetheart” you grinned and adjusted your position so you could breastfeed miyoung. 

“dad, can you help me with this?” she asked and tugged doyoung’s sleeve. he shuffled her hair and grabbed whipped cream. 

he gently followed kyungmi’s instructions and drew something. when he was done, she mumbled a focused ‘thank you’ and started putting some strawberries on your pancake. 

you decided to snack on one, stealing it from doyoung’s plate. he just rolled his eyes dramatically, diving back into his food. 

“ta-da!” she hummed and turned the plate to you. it was, you assumed, a smiley face. proud kyungmi puffed her chest out and expectedly mirrored your reaction. 

“it’s so cute! thank you, baby” you blew her a kiss “i’ll eat it in a second” 

“mkay. can i go watch bluey?” she asked, a small pout on her lips. you were rather hesitant to start her day with screen time but… 

“go. we’ll join you in a moment, once little mi’s tummy is full too” doyoung smiled and booped kyungmi’s nose. she ran off with her plate, chuckling “don’t make a mess!”

“i won’t!” 

soon enough the sound of the cartoon sounded from the living room. you just send doyoung a confused look. 

he changed his seats to sit next to you, grabbing your plate. your husband took a picture of it and then started to chop off a small bite for you. 

“here comes airplane” doyoung teased and made a swirling motion with the fork. you laughed, the motion drawing a displeased groan from miyoung.

“you’re unbelievable” was all you could murmur before opening your mouth. doyoung put a hand under the fork, in case something would fall.

(not like it happened before, surely. once during dinner an olive fell on miyoung’s head. she was as confused as you, with doyoung and kyungmi almost falling out of their chairs from laughter). 

you hummed happily, the taste delicious on your tongue. doyoung continued to feed you, taking a bite once or twice as well. 

miyoung was satisfied and leaned away, babbling. you caught your husband’s eyes trailing off and you just covered yourself, smacking his arm. 

“sorry. can’t help it when every part of my wife’s body is beautiful” he grinned sheepishly and leaned in to seal his words with a passionate kiss. 

of course you had your doubts after birth. both with kyungmi and miyoung. but your husband was more supportive than ever, reassuring you at any given chance. it got to a point where you just started laughing at his dramatic praise but he literally had a serious look in his eye each time. 

his knee pressing slightly against you, his lips on yours and tongues dancing together… for a moment you let yourself get lost in the moment. 

dizzying pleasure made you sigh softly, tilting your head a bit. that’s when doyoung suddenly stood up, scooping miyoung out of your arms. 

you looked at him, flabbergasted (and a little bit disappointed). 

“i know i’m charming but let me take care of her. do you want to nap?” he asked. 

“doyo” you sighed, serious. he frowned, rocking his daughter gently “be for real right now”

“what? aren’t you sleepy after a sleepless night?” he asked, genuinely surprised. you stood up, flicking his forehead. 

“you kiss me like that and expect me to get sleepy? you’re lucky i love you” you giggled and he just sent you a boyish smile. “i’m fine. let’s go watch bluey”

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

[megapteraurelia]

hiii just saw your post about needing distraction and if i can help you even a little bit then i’d be happy to!! so id like a drabble with akaashi, f!reader or gn!reader, fluff, at uni?? if that’s fine?? have a lovely day <33

zeugmas and feelings.

summary | akaashi keiji and you found each other while trying to survive deadlines. or: how to not get anything done because akaashi keiji is just so damn pretty. warnings | none! it's meet-cute and fluff :3; fem!reader word count | 4449. a/n | elie, i love you, you precious!!! thank you for this and i'm sorry that i didn't keep to the idea of a drabble. for the life of me, i could NOT pass up writing several moments of akaashi so there's 4.5k words full of them instead T_T i hope i made it justice, though :3 please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

the library was silent on sunday; eerie yet comforting in a way. 

the sun had long since set, the last of the rays that came through the windows bathing everything in a light that felt more nostalgic than it actually was before it dipped everything outside in a dark cloak. among the typing sounds on different kinds of laptops, their engines more than ready to take off after being used for so long, there was only the ticking of the clock, sometimes a soft clearing of throats or the gentle clink of a thermo cup being set down.

looking up from the mock exam you were taking for your cultural studies class, flexing your cramped fingers and rolling your shoulders, your eyes found the only other person sharing your space that late. you didn’t mean to look over at him lest you made anybody feel awkward, but in an entire picture of stillness before you, the movement drew your eyes naturally.

his fingers were swift, flying over the keyboard, gaze trained at his screen, trusting his hands to instinctively and automatically follow the letters. you couldn’t see his eyes properly, though, the glare of the laptop reflecting off his glasses. though you could see the little furrow of concentration in his brows, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he halted for a second, thinking. then nodding to himself, they resumed their display of a gear having turned in his brain. 

your eyes wandered away from him to your own screen, the words staring at you, and you wondered once again whether you should have chosen a different topic to cover in this assignment. would american history work better? did you have enough characteristics to explain the relevance in the corresponding text? or did you perhaps want to stay focusing on orientalism? 

after all, american history was your current topic discussed in class, its myths and ideologies, transformation of gender roles, the age of realism and science. it would be easier to just focus on any of those: the harlem renaissance, counterculture and postmodernism, the gilded age— 

you rubbed your eyes, and a sigh escaped your mouth, strong and carrying a lot of exhaustion; your lungs pushed the air out forcefully. you were too far in to scrap everything and start anew with a whole nother topic, so there was only one plausible and logical conclusion to draw:

get more coffee and force your brain cells to work.

standing up from your spot, senses tuned into the stillness of the library, you noticed something. or lack thereof. no typing noise anymore that had accompanied you for hours on end; the seat in front of the man’s laptop empty, his notebooks still open on the table, though no cup on the empty coaster. 

as you walked by with your empty mug and passed the little area that his pens and his dispersed papers claimed as his for the time being, you let your eyes flit over his screen. walls of paragraphs comparing two different works of literature on one half of his desktop, another document open with several similarities and differences listed on the other half. 

“japanese lit, huh?” you mumbled to yourself, tired eyes straying away from his possessions and your feet automatically carried you to the coffee machine at the entrance of the library that the students of various classes had invested in to aid them during their emotional breakdowns…uh, quest to finish their essays and assignments in time. 

zoning out, gripping your mug in one hand, you barely recognised the familiar movement of a person occupying the space in front of you out of the periphery of your eyes as you neared the coffee machine, so you only came back to reality when your nose was suddenly squished against a warm barrier that smelled like cappuccino and old books. 

“easy,” a deeper voice than yours called out close to your head, one hand having already come up to steady you when you lost your balance. his hand was warm against your back, the heat seeping through the layers of your woolen turtleneck, and for a second you both occupied the same space, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

“oh, sorry,” your response was automatic, sheepish and you stepped back, “i probably saw you but my brain didn’t work quick enough to actually see you.”

your gaze found the missing person whose laptop you snooped through (did it count as snooping if you only quickly looked at the screen enough to see what he was working on? you didn’t even touch anything, promise), and this time you could see his eyes, unhindered by any light reflection. 

pretty, you thought off-handedly, really pretty eyes.

“no stress,” one shoulder heaved up, and when his fingers stopped supporting you once he saw you didn’t need his help anymore, your back felt weirdly cool. it was nice having felt the heat of his arm around your body in the absence of any human contact in the face of studying. 

he filled water into the reservoir of the coffee machine, a cup of beans already measured from before you walked into him. you cleared your throat and nodded in thanks; he bowed his head quickly, waving off your thank you, his hand nudging up his glasses perched on his nose when they threatened to slide down. 

they were a bit big, but the earnest look of the dark blue eyes accompanying them made them all the more alluring; like they caged a ton of unsaid thoughts behind them, like there was so much those eyes wanted to tell but they had to get through the barrier of the glasses first. 

a transparent mask to hide behind.

“sooo, how’s the coffee?” you asked to fill the silence when your eyes met again, looking away just as quickly, because you hadn’t expected that his sharp pupils found you the same way your eyes found his. stupid question, to be honest, when the coffee machine whirred in answer, and there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

“i don’t know yet,” he held up his opened thermos cup to show you the lack of liquid that he could not judge on yet, and your cheeks flared up at the obvious demonstration, mumbling quietly to yourself, thinking that the coffee machine was too loud for him to understand: “sorry, that was…an incredibly stupid question.”

“you’re okay,” his quiet and steady voice came back to meet your ears, held back amusement lingering in the folds of his tenor. he heard you just fine, “though probably just like bitter water.”

leaning back against the wall, he joined you in waiting, and then there was comfortable silence between you both. he was close enough to feel the air warm up, close that if you glanced up again, you could see his lashes brush his cheek as he closed his eyes for a quick reprieve, the curls of his hair, messy and falling over his ears, his lips sitting together calmly, sometimes twisting when he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

you looked away again, to the coffee machine that went from grinding the coffee beans to finally pouring the hot water through it and dripping into the pot. you thought you recognised him from somewhere, this boy with the gentle, kind eyes and the charming glasses. you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him, trying to gauge where from, whether you had met him on campus before.

“i can feel you staring.”

whirling your head away from his still closed eyes and the fingers messing with his hair, you felt embarrassment brewing within your chest alongside the coffee in front of you. stupid, stupid.

“sorry.”

“don’t be. i don’t mind,” he said, still the same reserved amusement hiding behind his words, and then he did open his eyes to turn to you, and you returned the favour of looking over him again. your gazes met for a split second, dead-on, before they parted again to look at other features, “you’re in professor yoshida’s class, right?”

“right! that’s where  i know you from,” recognition finally bloomed, and you tested out the name that was continuously popping up in your mind during the short wait, wondering whether it was him, “akaashi keiji, right? you looked familiar.”

akaashi opened his mouth to respond, but halted for a split second; his cheeks and ears using this one moment to turn into a soft pink. when he caught himself and talked, you had an inkling that he meant to say something completely different: “yeah, exactly. what are you working on?”

“cultural studies. incredibly boring.”

“japanese lit,” he nodded in sympathy, then moved to pour coffee into both of your cups. you wanted to thank him, take the cup yourself and move, but he beat you to it. reflexes sharp and swift movement, he maneuvered around you easily to carry both of your coffee mugs back to the table you both shared. 

“thank you,” you said at last, seated away from him at your own laptop with the steaming cup warming your hands, the same old words on the screen staring back at you, and he responded in likes; his voice comfortable and easy, deep and as warm as the drink in your hand, “of course.”

both of you continued working, though amongst the clicking of keyboard keys and the silent breathing were the little glances both of you threw at the other now that there was some common ground found. when you got stuck with how to phrase a certain sentence, chin supported on your hand, your eyes wandered to him out of their own volition and instinctually, and you watched him focus on his work. 

the way his teeth would not stay still, constantly picking on his lips, his fingers rubbing his chin when he thought; the light warming up his face and making it seem like his hair was draped over him like a dark curtain. 

then you’d attend to your work again, and it was akaashi’s turn to let his eyes and mind wander over to you to watch you get stuck with another paragraph, biting your nail while the other hand was tapping on the keys lightly without pressing too hard, eyes intently focused on the words. 

you had an intense look in your eyes, and everytime, there were little butterflies erupting behind his ribcage when he felt you dedicate it to him.

those moments in between, when both of your eyes passed the others, belonged to nobody but the empty library. moments, in which you allowed yourselves to bask in the heat of fading instances, of arcane glances, interrupted by little sighs here and there or random occurrences, in which you both just couldn’t help but talk to each other:

“i’m jealous of your concentration,” you groaned at some point, allowing your forehead to thump onto your arm to bury your face away from the screen and its cruel, glaring light, “you look like you’re about to solve all the problems in this world.”

akaashi had stilled in his work, startled, eyes glancing up over the rim of his glasses up to you, and his teeth finally let go of his poor, swollen lower lip; mouth curling into a small embarrassed smile, “not quite. but i may be able to help you with yours, if that’s a start.”

you laughed at yourself for the strange thump your heart produced, hand waving him off, “sweet of you, but i just need some of that laser focus you’ve got.”

“sending you some.”

pretending to catch the energy he threw your way, you perked up in your seat and flashed him a grin, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“oh fu— shit.”

he was already beside you with napkins, big hands dabbing up the spilled lukewarm coffee as you worked to put away your electronics and books lest they’d get ruined by the deep brown liquid. he was close, leaning over you, hands working fast and precise, feeling his chest bump against your shoulders ever so slightly. your body warmed up at the contact, and you had to try not to lose your mind over that.

“ugh, i swear this is not my usual.”

“i’ll believe you when i see you prove the opposite to me,” he said quietly, a certain openness in his voice, a silent offer to spend many more moments together like this. 

you looked up at him, a smile stealing itself on your lips, “i suppose if you’re asking to be humiliated and be proven wrong, then i won’t say no.”

the skin underneath akaashi’s glasses had warmed up, and as he went back to his seat, he had stuttered back, “that’s— i didn’t— nobody said anything about humiliation! also, you’re the one who barely escaped electronic and academic death. gotta tone down the murderous intent a little.”

“never. every essay is my arch-nemesis, so they got what was coming for them.”

akaashi had shook his head, and laughed quietly to himself; the sound as honeyed as your favourite dessert. 

when he returned from his bathroom break later on, he brought you back a new cup of coffee, anyway, despite his fear of you murdering your hard effort of having added only three extra paragraphs to your text in all the time (you were a little busy staring at akaashi keiji’s pretty eyes; nobody was allowed to judge your slow pace).

you fell back with a big oohmpf and a yelp. 

dazed, you looked up at the ceiling, the low warm light of the library in the midst of the dark outside looking enticing enough to fall asleep right there. you stayed on the ground for a second, most of your fall cushioned by the chair, though your butt still throbbed with the impact. 

“hey,” a couple steps resonated before a messy head of curls peeked over you, one hand holding the glasses in place, while the other was reaching towards you to help you up, “you alright?”

“y-yeah,” you sat up, shaking your head a bit to clear it from the zoning out you were doing before gravity decided to take you down, “i suppose that’s why teachers always say not to rock your chair back and forth.”

suppressed laughter, mild concern, and a warm hand engulfing you, “what a delinquent. i bet the teachers loved you.”

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean? they loved me! incredibly so!”

“okay. i think i need help.”

“of course, what do you need?”

“do you understand what i’m trying to convey when i phrase it like that? ugh, i’m scared it’s too convoluted.”

“give me a second,” he finished up his sentence, then came over, “let me see.”

his chest pressed against the back of your (now upright) chair as he leaned over you to read your run-on sentence was distracting you. he wasn’t touching you per se, but the placement of his hands on the arms of the chair could cage you in, make you feel like he was embracing you from behind, so much taller than you. the warmth emitting from behind you made you want to fall asleep and let your head land in the crook of his neck.

he was breathing softly, the air caressing your hair, and when he reached out to point at your words, your eyes followed the red knuckles, his clean nails and the size of his hands. 

“you mean that the west created orientalism as a cultural and intellectual framework, right?” — a quick nod of yours — “alright, then i think if you cut this in two sentences, for one to showcase the interpretation of the east and then dive deeper into the colonisation in the next sentence — that would make it more understandable. say, am i making you nervous?”

blinking, “w—what? where did that come from?”

he leaned down slightly, face hovering next to yours, his voice slightly raw and close to your earshell, “don’t forget to breathe. also, you have a typo — row three, the fourteenth word.”

“evil,” your breathing was clipped from the insinuation that he may have had an effect on you, heart pumping blood through your body like crazy as if it was held at gunpoint, “i bet the teachers really disliked you.”

despite that, you brought him a cup of coffee when you returned from your bathroom break, too.

“you alright, akaashi?” you asked.

akaashi keiji looked up, his hand rubbing his neck, kneading the knots out of his tense shoulders. his eyes, until just short of when you called him, had been glazing over, a little bit of a vacant look entering the blue of his eyes, but when you called his name, he had snapped out of it, and his features relaxed slightly, away from his troublesome thoughts. his dark brows furrowed deeply above his eyes.

“yeah, just thinking about all the deadlines coming up. it’s…” he sighed, allowing his shoulders to sink, and he leaned back in the uncomfortable library chairs; another big sigh escaping him, “...a lot.”

“yeah,” you agreed and stood up, walking over to him. his surprised gaze followed you, and when you stood right next to him with his head tilted back, the wavy strands of hair following gravity, looking up at you with those eyes, you felt a tug in your chest that told you to kiss him. you didn’t. 

instead, you nodded to the window, “let’s take a walk and a breather,” and then, because you couldn’t help yourself, “a zeugma. get it, mr. japanese literature?”

his shoulders stayed relaxed, and he laughed again; a brilliant smile on his lips and you thought of how you wanted to kiss him even more. his eyes felt lighter, too, when he pushed back his chair and stood up, body entirely too close for what probably should have been appropriate for two students who had only properly met today for the first time. or was it already the next day?

but neither of you moved for a second, drinking in the presence of each other, before he grabbed his jacket off his backrest, “i think you can do better.”

“well, i think it was pretty good.”

akaashi shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes, competing with the sparkle of the glasses when he turned and the light hit him just right, “and i think i have you beat there.”

you grumbled but caught up to him nonetheless.

it was cold outside. 

the kind that slithered through between the folds of your clothing to nestle deep in the crevices of your soul. the kind that had you shuddering and sending remnants of cannons into the air with every breath, the moisture immediately misting up. 

akaashi keiji was walking next to you, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, though his exhales were shaky too, chest trembling with compressed and suppressed shivers. you were already as close to him for warmth as possible without being weird or too straight-forward, though you wish you could just cling to his arm — it was that icy.

“i feel like i can’t even think,” you mumbled, already feeling your lips starting to numb, the tip of your nose burning. 

“me neither, but maybe that’s a good thing,” he breathed out, the warm air blowing past your temple, and his cheeks were so pink, it was cute, “sometimes it’s all too stressful, and i wish i could turn off my brain.”

“does that happen a lot?” 

you referred to the way his face looked like there was a headache incoming, how his fingers froze and his shoulders locked in; the way he seemed to absolutely crumble under the prospect of the things he needed to do and that awaited him. 

akaashi had an embarrassed smile on his face, shoulders drawn up for some warmth, the fuzziness of his jacket’s hood surrounding his reddening cheeks, “sometimes. there’s a lot of expectations riding on passing my classes. not just passing them, but passing them well.”

“by whom?” you leaned forward; curious eyes trying to catch his, “expectations set by the profs or by yourself?”

he stared at you, and his lips were slightly open; with every exhale, condensation snaked up the air like smoke, dissolving in the cold atmosphere all around you, though the air between you was slightly warm. his eyes looked kind and vulnerable for a second, “what a callout. guess i can’t even pretend that it’s not me, huh? you caught me.”

“not yet, i didn’t,” you dared say, and he stopped walking, even though it was colder to stay still than to move. you stopped, too. a snowflake floated between you, landing on his pink nose, melting at the warmth. 

the entire evening long — ever since you had bumped into him making coffee and you both went from studying alone to studying together, little jokes and jibes passing between you, curiosity and interest swapping between you with every glance, solitary and shared, you felt there was maybe a chance for something more. not necessarily all the way if it didn’t work out, but more to explore, more of him and you to meet.

“what does that mean, miss cultural studies?”

you blinked up at him, “i don’t know, mr. japanese literature. you’re the one who reads between the lines of books and analyses everything.”

“i’m not that far into my course,” he told you, seriously, and for a second you almost believed him, but then his eyes crinkled as he hid his smile behind the fluff of his jacket, and you pulled out one of your hands from the pockets of your coat to lightly pull his ear, not enough to cause pain but enough to chide him.

“you liar,” you said with no malice, voice soft and as your hand trailed down to hide your fingers in warmth again, his hand, fast as ever, pulled out of his own jacket, grabbed yours and stuffed both your hands in his pocket instead. 

incredibly warm, fingers locked between each other, soft skin kissing yours, “let’s go, it’s too cold.”

sometime around 2 am in the morning, you decided that you were going to fall asleep right then and there. sadly, coffee barely had an effect on your body anymore after having put your body through caffeine abuse for so long. 

during the hours of studying together, one of you moved closer to the other, so both of your books and notes were strewn together, sharing a space. his thermos cup stood next to a bunch of other cups both of you had drunk out of, because you kept forgetting to take the mug you were using with you and were forced to bring new ones. 

scrutinising a well-read book in the dim light, you ask, “is this mine?”

“unless you want to take home a copy of the setting sun with you and dissect the theme of youth in crisis, then i’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“ugh, i can’t even read anything anymore,” a beat of sly silence, “or you know, maybe i do want to. then i’ll have an excuse to see you again.”

“or,” akaashi butted in and gently offered you his phone, his smile straightforward yet a shy edge sweetening it up, “you can give me your number and we’ll meet up for another study session when you’re available. how’s that sound?”

in lieu of an answer, you saved your contact in his phone; your fingers caressing his under pretense of giving it back to him, and his movement was delayed, allowing the contact between you two to linger for a moment more.

“i’ll walk you back.”

“it’s not that far, so you don’t have to. it’s cold, too.”

akaashi sent you a look that very much told you he did not care how cold it was, there was no way he would let you walk alone at night. and when he did, your hands were buried in his pocket again. 

the world was quiet and still, as if you were caught up in another plane of existence for the past hours. a limbo of sleepy nature, perpetually falling snowflakes, the constant of the warmth akaashi offered, the bumping of arms as you walked in silence, subtly pulling him either to the left or the right when you needed to change the path.

“when is your assignment due?” you asked, lips barely moving from the cold, so you had to hiss out the words, barely understandable.

“four days ‘til friday. yours?”

“monday.”

another shaky exhale, the tremble evident in your shoulders, and you opted to walk a bit faster, even though you didn’t want to part with him yet. but cold was cold, and you would like to keep your toes still alive and kicking. so, it was no wonder that you arrived at your dormitory relatively fast, though even then, both of you stood in front of the entrance, not ready to say goodbye yet, not ready to leave the world of the dead and wake up the next day to greet the same usual bullshit. 

“meet me tomorrow,” he said with blue lips and red cheeks.

“okay,” you responded, heart fluttering when he didn’t let go of your hand. instead he took a step back and you were forced to follow, because you didn’t let go of his hand, either.

one step, another, a third one, then the tentative meeting of cold mouths. his breath was warm, his tongue warmer, and gradually your lips returned to their soft, mellow state. kissing him felt gentle, it felt safe and it felt like you could sink into him, like awaiting and catching you was a giant cloud that kept you floating up.

he kissed like he was a romantic. like he lived and breathed words meant for you, with the dedication and attention to detail only a writer or an artist could have, every stroke, every painted image on paper. he kissed like he had known you for a long time and intended to know you for even longer.

when you both parted, your lashes were brushing the rim of his glasses and your nose caressing his cheek, lips only inches away so it was only natural to kiss him again. 

“see you,” he let go of your hand at last.

later, an unknown number texted you, and you thought yourself corny, but you couldn’t help the smile that overtook your features at the cheesy line akaashi keiji thought he had you beat with:

from: +81 3 1762-3468 i left my other book and also my heart with you

and then:

from: +81 3 1762-3468 i really do need the book though, bring it tomorrow please :( goodnight x

[thecircularsystem]

Let’s try this (a THIRD time ffs) during my 30 minute lunch:

Responding to this post, not linking because clearly this user didn’t wanna interact lol.

My response is going to be much briefer and less informative this time because I have spent way too long trying to write this, so let’s just bullet point it:

The terms CDD systems use (I’m assuming you mean parts, system, and alter) have been shared for over 40 years at this point. In reference to plurality, the Natural Multiplicity Movement (as flawed as it was) came from the CDD community. They were one and the same before the mass divide of non-disordered plurality breaking off. I’m not saying it was without its problems, obviously, but the terms have always been shared.

Moreover, these terms have been shared with IFS since its inception. Yet I don’t see anyone making a fuss about singlets calling themselves parts or systems. The terminology was taken directly from the idea of parts working together, just like the modern usage of system.

The original usage of the term “system” wasn’t even community based; from what I saw, it was more so focused on the neurological aspect of neural pathways working together. If you want to be salty about people misusing terms, the entire community is using system in a non-medical way at this point.

Endogenic systems did create their own terminology. CDD systems co-opted the language. Collective, plural, fictive, factive, and headmate, just off the top of my head, were all coined by pro/endo systems, and many of them coined explicitly to avoid more medicalized language. Then CDD systems began using it, and anti-endo systems even yelled at endogenic systems for then using their own terminology, such as plural and fictive. If we want to be upset about terminology being “stolen,” then be upset at anti-endos as well.

Using the same terminology does not mean someone is saying they’re exactly the same. An individual who says they experience intrusive thoughts is not saying they’re OCD. An individual saying they’re hyperfixated does not mean they’re saying they have autism. An individual saying they’re a system does not mean they’re saying they have a CDD. They can make a comparison — “my system is similar to a CDD system” even — without implying they’re one-to-one.

To connect to the previous point — I see myself as similar to my singlet partner. I see myself as similar to my endogenic friends. I use the same terminology I’ve seen used for those with ADHD. I am not a singlet, endogenic, or a pwADHD. Yet I can relate to those experiences to some degree! When did people start getting mad that humans can relate to each other? /genq

Lastly; I’m pretty sure I’m working with a different definition of gaslighting here. Gaslighting, afaik, is when a person in a position of (real or perceived) power over another convinces their victim that the factual truth of an event is false, causing them to question their perception of things. Endogenic systems do not hold any power over me? Them using system terminology isn’t them challenging my perception? Genuinely so confused how this would be considered gaslighting.

[sarcasticallyexplicit11]

id KILL for a lil bit of pony n darry angst (always🙂‍↕️) where they get into a fight n pony brings up some absolutely foul, targeted shit n instead of yelling back darry just genuinely breaks down. cannot handle it. (absolutely ADORE ur writing love🫶🥹 keep up the good work like ALWAYS can't WAIT to see what u cook up!!💕🧡🫶)

Darry angst and Ponyboy being a little shit? Count me in! I’m glad you like what I do and I hope you enjoy this too! I’ve written something similar in the past but this one’s a little heavier (oops) Post Windrixville but Johnny and Dally are alive because I said so 🙂‍↕️

Darry wasn’t sure what crawled up his littlest brother’s ass and died but he needed it out as soon as possible.

He had seemed to be in a mood ever since he had gotten home from track practice that afternoon, huffing and puffing all over the place. Darry couldn’t get more than a sarcastic quip or silence out of him when he would ask Pony about his day or how practice went. His attitude made it almost impossible for Darry to be around him, not trying to pick a fight.

The rest of the gang slowly trickled into the house throughout the evening. Soda, Steve, and Dally sat on the floor playing a heated game of poker, Pony and Johnny curled up on the couch together, and Two-Bit sat on the kitchen counter while Darry got started on dinner.

Walking towards the fridge, Darry’s foot collided with what felt like a sack of bricks. He looked down and saw Ponyboy’s bookbag lying on its side by the table. Two-Bit let out a small chuckle before a sharp glance from Darry had him snapping his mouth shut. Darry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He knew that Pony had been struggling ever since Windrixville. He knew that Pony was a teenager. He knew all that but Pony’s foul moods and constant disregard for his responsibilities were starting to wear on Darry’s last nerve.

“Pony,” Darry yelled, “come get your bag!” He heard a huff from the living room and stomping footsteps making their way towards the kitchen. Darry took another deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm himself.

Ponyboy rounded the corner and grabbed his bag with a loud groan. “I don’t ask ya to do much around here little colt, so leave the attitude out of your chores next time.” Ponyboy shot Darry an irritated glare, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He muttered something under his breath, just loud enough for Darry to hear but not loud enough for him to understand. “Pump your breaks, what did ya just say to me?”

Two-Bit, sensing the heightened tenseness that filled the room, hopped off the counter and made his way into the living room to join the other guys in their game. Though nobody was playing anymore, too focused on what was going down between the two brothers.

Pony whipped his head around to face Darry who was stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “I said you’re always nagging me to do shit though.”

Breathe, Darry thought to himself, he’s pushing your buttons on purpose.

Ponyboy had gotten a little taller over the course of a couple of months, now able to look Darry in the eye, which he abused for his own benefit. Darry usually didn’t mind, but right now he wasn’t using puppy dog eyes. There was a certain deep-seated fury sitting in them that Darry had never seen before, something that had him backing away from his little brother.

“Well I wouldn’t have to nag if you just did what I asked you,” Darry said. His heart was pounding in his chest, an anxiety that had been ever-present since his parents died. Ponyboy stepped towards Darry, fist clenched at his sides and Darry could feel his breathing speed up.

He wasn’t scared of Ponyboy, but his body hadn’t gotten that memo.

Darry could hear the distinct sound of crutches heading towards the kitchen, with four sets of footsteps following behind. Pony took another step towards Darry and said, “and I’d do what you told me if you weren’t such an asshole all the time.”

“I’m an asshole because I care, you’d see that if you got your head outta the clouds.” Darry could see the gang standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that they were witnessing this.

Ponyboy snickered, a hint of defiance deep within it. “Funny, 'cause you never act like you care about anyone but yourself.” Darry flinched backward, back slamming against the counter as he did so. “I don’t even think you cared when two of our best friends almost died.”

After the words left his mouth, Ponyboy knew he had fucked up and everyone else did too. The whole house went still, as if any movement would cause the whole thing to collapse. He expected Darry to get angry. He almost wished Darry would just be furious and ground him for eternity.

Nobody was prepared for Darry to break down into tears.

He crumpled to the floor, any strength he had completely zapped from his muscles. Everyone was frozen, like the lakes on the, very rare, coldest days in Tulsa. Ponyboy tried to say anything to fix what he had just broken but the words just wouldn’t come out.

“Darry I-,” Ponyboy started, but Soda’s hand on his shoulder had him snapping his mouth shut.

Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity, until Johnny moved further into the kitchen, lowering himself carefully to the ground to sit next to Darry. That was the catalyst. Dally then pushed the other guys out of the way to sit on the other side of Darry, keeping a little distance between them.

Darry finally lifted his head, tears still flowing down his cheeks. “You don’t know the first thing about how much I cared, Pone. Who do you think is paying off their hospital bills?” Ponyboy shrunk backward and shook his head. “If I didn’t care, neither of them would be staying in the house right now. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be killing myself working over 60 hours a week to make sure there’s enough food on the table for everybody. You don’t know how much I care because I keep it quiet.”

Ponyboy squished himself onto the floor next to Johnny and crossed his arms on top of his knees, laying his head on them. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny looked over at Darry and chewed on his lip, thinking about what to say. He was eternally grateful that Darry let him stay, sleeping on the Curtis couch is far better than toughing it out in the lot. He also felt a little guilty about taking up space, but Darry would always shut that down. “You said something when you thought I was asleep when I was in the hospital. I heard you say that you’ll always take care of your little brothers, and that meant the whole gang. You don’t say it, but you’ll sure as hell show you care,” Johnny says, picking at the hem of his shirt.

Darry took a deep breath as fresh tears poured down his face faster than he could wipe them away. Dally nodded in agreement with Johnny, a small smile gracing his lips before he could catch it. “Yeah man, Buck woulda kicked me out by now with all my complainin’ yet you still keep me around. That’s how I know you care.”

The rest of the gang slowly made their way to the floor, packing together like sardines. Darry could see the guilty look on Ponyboy’s face so he waved him over to sit in front of him. Pony scooched over to Darry, settling himself in his big brother’s lap and burying himself in his shoulder. Darry smiled and wrapped his arms around Pony.

“Kid I care more than you’ll ever know, even when you think I don’t,” Darry says, squeezing Ponyboy against him. “And you and I are gonna talk about that attitude you’ve had.”

Pony nodded against Darry’s chest, then lifted his head up and said, “I’m really sorry Dar.”

Darry squeezed him once again, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. “Now, who’s ready to eat?”

[str4wberryswisherr]

Random nonsense post✨

[theghoulboysblog]

all i am thinking about is how beautiful and soft shane madej’s photography of ryan is 💛

just thought other people needed to be reminded that these photos exist because i am literally crying and throwing up over this! 😭

[weltyangsglasses]

If anyone has cute wholesome Aventio doodle ideas, I’m genuinely up for drawing some of them. Like my brain is not working, but I want to draw them so bad. (I need more art practice too!)

[driftingballoons]

Some creatures are more difficult to perceive than others

[sammygender]

‘sam and john are so similar’ well okay. sure, to an extent. both sam and john are (or at least sam starts off being) stubborn, relentlessly driven personalities. but i would argue dean has just as much capacity to be like that as sam. sometimes more. ‘sam and john clash because they’re similar’ idk, maybe, i’m sure that could be and probably is part of it to an extent, but i would put it More down to the fact that john treats his sons Awfully and sam reacts to this (as he should!) by fighting it & being angry with him. john and sam could be nothing alike and they’d still fight like hell

& anyway just because dean thinks sam and john are similar doesn’t make it true. half the reason he probably thinks they’re similar is because of his relationship w them, which is the same intense dogged devotion, though with john it’s expressed through obedience and with sam it’s expressed through possessiveness. they’re a family they’re all like each other. sam and dean are alike in a hell of a lot of ways!! yeah sam’s paralleled with john sometimes but he’s also paralleled with mary. yeah dean plays/has played the role of mary sometimes but he also 100% is always striving to fill the role of john. people are complex! sam and dean are complex characters because they’re good characters! not everything is black and white!

[p0ison-moon]

okay so here’s my salty bitchy problem with all the other Jews on here who get mad when they’re asked about Zionism. yeah I get that it’s annoying and offensive to have assumptions made about our stances on Israel just because we’re Jewish. However. H o w e v e r.

this kind of goes with the phrase “white silence is violence”. you know, by not speaking up we’re actually contributing to the damage? or, in this case, by “believing in Israel’s right to exist but not condoning anything it does, except we never talk about it ever” we’re actually normalizing ignoring everything that goes on in Israel and the occupied territories?*

furthermore, as a Jew I feel that it’s important to my identity and religion to care about Palestine. I could name the reasons straight out of pirkei avot if I felt like it. either way, I believe that social justice is almost the most crucial aspect to being Jewish. loyalty to a country that is actively oppressing and killing people on land it colonized is not important to my Jewish identity. In fact I’d probably feel like a bad Jew (something I get called a lot anyways) if I didn’t speak out about Palestine, because silence in the face of wrongdoing goes against everything I was ever taught about Judaism.

And that last bit is personal to me, but I would really really hope that our consciences would tell us that same thing anyways. at the very least I’d like to see less energy being put into thinking of more ways to say “asking Jews if they’re Zionist is bad” when that energy could be put towards helping Palestinians.

*and don’t even try to tell me that you as “liberal” Zionists on tumblr go out of your way to talk about and support Palestinians, because that’s hilariously false.

[songofwizardry]

rereading ‘the long way to a small angry planet’ in probably… at least four or five years? and 1. I’d forgotten how much I loved this book, and I feel like my memory of it kinda flattens down the worldbuilding and sheer amount of character building in it, and it deserves better than that! and 2. it’s really interesting which bits of the book stick out to me more now than they did on my very first read

[fellhellion]

I have a rich inner world abt both iterations of Miguel and the relationship to fatherhood <- literally just hc

[solofanatic64]

SO

It has come to my attention that yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of the creation of this account, cool beans…

…

…

…so what if I were to tell you that, for over a year, I’ve been developing a Tmnt au where the foot clan henchmen and my oc become precure-styled magical girls? With lore, multiple characters, world building and everything?

…more info coming in 2024 (but only if you want it, if not, too bad)

(Also that logo is a placeholder, trust me I will make a better one)

[theshadowrealmitself]

r/RespectTheHyphen would combust at your Spider-Man posts 😭

Oh but I didn’t forget the hyphen! I actively fought against autocorrect to not have it on my posts <3 hope this helps <3

[pokemonruby]

behold… my stuff

[exhausted-artist-vibes]

silly little comic because things aren’t all bad