#im happy with these results. whatever happens now im content.

[sadkois]

so nishiki beat daigo in the drip tournament... 👀

[a-kaash-me-outside]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

[mothfables]

♡ Bunny Flops ♡

Legend flops when he’s happy.

Part one!

The first time it happens, they’re all gathered around the campfire, happy and content from a relaxed day of travel and a hearty meal. Conversation is soft; with no urgent matters vying for their immediate attention, chatter flows easily from one subject to another. Legend shifts from his place on a log to sit on the ground, resting his back against it. Bringing one leg up, he wraps his arms around it to rest his cheek on his knee.

He’s... content, he realizes. Here, with these heroes, talking and laughing about everything and nothing like close friends (like brothers)... A small smile lifts his lips as Wind lightly punches Warriors on the shoulder, only to shriek with laughter as the older boy grabs him in a headlock to ruffle his hair in retaliation. Yeah... content.

Without realizing it, he slowly tips over until he lands on his shoulder with a soft oomph! Hyrule, who’s next to him, lets out a squeak of surprise as Legend’s head lands on his thigh. The Vet gives a sigh, relaxing into the contact. His eyes flutter closed.

Hyrule, for his part, hovers his hands awkwardly, unsure what to do with the unexpectedly calm Veteran lying against his leg. He catches Sky’s eye across the fire and gestures helplessly. The Chosen Hero’s eyes widen before he lets out a soft coo, catching the attention of the others.

“Aawww, did he fall asleep?” Wind asks, his eyes bright. Warriors starts to grin, and Hyrule shoots him a glare. He doesn’t think Legend would appreciate being teased right now.

“...I don’t think I’ve ever seen ‘im so relaxed,” Twilight remarks. He shifts to better see the Veteran, who is indeed very relaxed. He doesn’t so much as stir when Hyrule finally lowers his hands, resting one on his head.

...Hold on. Gently, Hyrule threads his hand through Legend’s hair (marveling quietly at how soft it is). There’s no response.

Frowning now, because Legend always gets defensive when someone touches his hair, Hyrule removes his hand from his hair and shakes his shoulder. Legend doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Um, guys? I think-” Hyrule’s breath catches at the sudden swell of worry in his chest. “I think something might be wrong.”

The other heroes snap to attention at that, Warriors scrambling to his feet and hurrying over. He copies Hyrule, reaching out to shake their unconscious brother’s shoulder. The result is the same- that is to say, nothing. Wars’ brow creases in concern.

“Do you think it’s a curse?” Wind whispers loudly. There’s a bark of surprised laughter followed by a cough.

“I think we would’ve noticed if somebody got cursed, Sailor,” Warriors disagrees, checking Legend’s pulse worriedly. It’s steady and strong; whatever’s happening, it’s not affecting his heart, which rules out a number of other possible causes. If his heart was affected, it’s likely his organs and lungs and quite possibly his brain would be too, all of which would be bad. Luckily, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“It can’t be poison, we all ate the same thing,” Four mutters, sounding deep in thought. “Legend isn’t the type to eat things he finds out in the woods, either, so I doubt it came from that.” Hyrule and Wild shift somewhat guiltily at that. It’s a hard-learned habit born of survival, but that doesn’t mean everything they put in their mouths is safe to eat. “Warriors, can you see if maybe there’s an injury we didn’t notice? I know he usually doesn’t hide things like that, but it’s possible he didn’t know either.”

The Captain nods and gently, with Hyrule’s help, shifts Legend to check his back and sides, then after a moment of thought, his legs. There’s nothing. He sits back on his heels and just... observes. For all appearances, Legend is simply fast asleep.

He relays as much to the rest of the Chain, whose expressions shift from worry to confusion and disbelief. Legend never sleeps deeply or well, even after several months of travel together. It’s something they’ve all become accustomed to, so seeing him so loose and unguarded is odd at best.

With nothing else to do, everyone slowly goes back to what they were doing before, leaving Hyrule, Warriors, and a still-sleeping Legend in a quiet huddle. After a moment Wars shifts so his back is against the log with Legend’s legs across his lap. Their brother sleeps on.

The odd peace lasts perhaps another half hour before Legend finally stirs. Violet eyes blink open to stare sleepily at the fire. Wind is the first to notice and his gasp alerts the rest of them, startling Legend out of his sleepy half-doze.

“He’s awake!!!” In one swift movement their youngest bounds across the fire towards them. He skids to a stop on his knees and Warriors winces. Wind doesn’t seem to notice or care about the surely-raw skin that resulted and stares at Legend with his signature wiggly frown. Legend, for his part, stares back with wide eyes that slowly shift to meet each of the Chain’s, who are staring back at him.

“...what?” he croaks.

Wars opens his mouth to answer when he’s cut off by a flood of concerned questions.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened? You just passed out and-”

“We couldn’t wake you but Wars said nothin’ was wrong-”

“You don’t look sick-!”

Legend’s shoulders begin to rise. Warriors chuckles, the sound a half-sigh as he drags his hand down his face, relieved. The Vet twitches at the sound and twists around to look at him, his face falling into a scowl.

“What?” Legend asks again. He’s starting to look distinctly annoyed now. Warriors only chuckles again.

And there’s our grumpy Veteran, he thinks fondly, giving his brother a smirk.

Legend puffs up like an angry cat and shoves himself to his feet. “Whatever,” he grumbles, stalking away to where they left their bags. The others’ voices follow him, high and worried. Legend snarks back a response, though his shoulders lose some of their tension. Warriors watches him go, his smirk falling into something softer as he exchanges a glance with Hyrule.

Yeah, he’s fine.

Next >>

[lennysracingprograms]

Crosspost from Reddit: Boston Consulting, 10 years later

I had posted this at r/Indycar earlier, and figured I should share over here as well.

A David Land tweet brought to my attention--and I don't remember if I'd even seen it before--to an AP story from early 2013 about the results of a report commissioned by Hulman and Co. regarding the future direction of Indycar. Particularly timely given the current offseason theme of "what is/isn't Indycar doing right", I thought I'd take a look at the points made and whatever happened to them.

"The Hulman-George family should retain ownership of the IndyCar Series and Indianapolis Motor Speedway" okay right off the bat this didn't happen. The article doesn't specify if this is a general statement, though, or in the context of any sale to NASCAR/ISC or another motorsport entity. I'm reading this more as "it should remain in private and familiar hands"; that being said, this was before Liberty Media bought Formula 1, and I don't know if the idea of a major media conglomerate owning a major racing series had crossed anyone's mind at that time.

"Focus groups suggested that marketing strategies should be geared to 'positioning IndyCar as having the most skilled, daredevil drivers and not theatrical off-track personalities.'" Hopefully this is something that can be remedied in 100 Days to Indy, but so far this seems to be advice not heeded. I personally think that there could/should be a balance between the personality and the action factors, however. This is something that Drive to Survive absolutely nails, and I would hope the people at Vice are taking notes.

"IndyCar should split the schedule into two seasons — a 15-race U.S. calendar from April to August and an international series during the offseason...." Not done, and I'm not surprised. This is guaranteed to make nobody happy: us fans have been clamoring for more races during the proper season, and just going international for the sake of going international hasn't made sense at least since the CART days, if ever it did.

"BCG argued for a playoff because 'the current IndyCar schedule lacks consequence and the television ratings are at the lowest at the end of the season because the series does not have a mechanism to create suspense.'" This playoff stretch would be the final three races of the season, which would now be Texas, Long Beach, and the Indy road course in this scenario. Again, something I don't think anybody really wants. Just this past season we had five drivers in contention for the title going into the final race; it's just a matter of getting people to give a shit about natural drama.

"One television partner, preferably ABC/ESPN, or placing as many races as possible on ABC.... The report said NBCSN has indicated it would 'release the series from the deal' because the rights fees increase from $5.5 million this year to $10 million in 2018 when the contract expires. But NBCSN has indicated it's happy with the IndyCar deal and wasn't interested in ending the relationship early." An item that Indycar heeded, and NBC in my opinion earned the preference over ABC despite that longstanding relationship by the time those rights were set to renew.

"IndyCar should reduce the Leaders' Circle subsidy payments to teams and redirect the funds into a weekly purse based on performance. Under the current model, the league is giving teams a $1.1 million subsidy and race winners are earning just $35,000 per victory. BCG offered several different models, including one that shifted half of Leader's Circle money into prize money and upped the race winner payout to a minimum $240,000 per victory." This is basically what they're now going to do with Indy NXT, and I wonder if maybe it's a precursor to applying the same change in monetary dispersal to the big series depending on how things play out.

"Using Indianapolis Motor Speedway more.... By using the speedway for an IndyCar race on the road course, BCG found IMS had the potential to generate a $4.3 million profit." This was the only thing that was immediately implemented, and did prove to be quite successful--to the point where now Indycar runs twice on the Speedway road course.

"The report targets Indy 500 ticketing, suggesting penthouse and deck tickets should be raised from $150 to $200, paddock seats from $90 to $150." Current pricing now tops out at $265, and the paddock section tops out at $140. I don't have info on historical ticket prices but it recommended pricing for the other seats be cut "anywhere from $5-$20 and sometimes more."

[silversatoru]

megumi + gaslighting / iq reduction

pls mr fushiguro, undermine my intelligence every day, purposely keep me unstimulated until im ur dumb, dependent plaything ❤️

a present for you when you get off the plane <3 i took a slightly diff approach to this and i know ur degree is very much not related to science but science is all i know,, so idk,, pretend u were a bio major or something for the sake of this fic okay

megumi + gaslighting/iq reduction

tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, college-student!reader x professor!megumi, dark content, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, iq reduction, dumbification, slight misogyny?

wc: 1.3k

you still remember the first day of mr. fushiguro’s class, and the way he seemed to pick on you of all people — the way he asked you to stay after class and immediately offered you a position on his team of research students. you remember questioning why he chose you instead of someone else, to which he affirmed that no one had quite the credentials that you did. and you were left wondering how he could possibly judge that on the very first day of classes.

you still remember the first time you showed up to the lab for said research group, the straps of your bag clutched nervously in your clammy palms. mr. fushiguro was a young but incredibly esteemed professor, and this was going to look great on your transcript, so you were nothing but a ball of excited jitters. and you were smart! you knew you’d be an excellent addiction to this team of students, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

or so you thought; but it quickly became apparent that you weren’t nearly as prepared as you thought you were. it seemed like everything you did was wrong — all of your experiment results were compromised, lacked accuracy, and were always rejected. it seemed like all the other students were excelling, and mr. fushiguro loved them — but he was always so frustrated with you.

if only you knew the frustration was a front. if only you realized that every experimental result you got was right, that every answer and every theory you came up with was painfully accurate. if only you knew that your struggles were entirely fabricated by mr. fushiguro and his ulterior motives.

eventually he made the recommendation that you do some remediation with him — a few one-on-one sessions to help sharpen your skills so you can contribute more to his research. so of course you said yes! because you wanted nothing more than to be helpful and you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong.

so you attended the tutor sessions with your dark-haired professor; but they were less about learning and more about brutal criticism of your skills. mr. fushiguro berated and insulted your intelligence several times, making you falter at his words and wonder what you ever did to deserve to be involved in his research project in the first place.

“i just don’t think you’re cut out for this, ms. l/n”.

maybe you really weren’t cut out for this.

“your lack of skills has surprised me, i can’t say i’m not disappointed in your performance so far”.

you were disappointed in yourself too.

“you’ll have to put in a lot of extra work if you want to stay on the team”.

you’d do whatever it took.

you were always bright, always excelled in your science-related classes, so what was happening to you? why were you the weak link of his research group? why were you on the verge of failing his class? why was everything suddenly so hard?

you didn’t mean to break down in front of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked back sobs and hid your face behind your hands. it’d been building up for a while now: your frustration, your sudden lack of self-confidence, your feelings of inadequacy; they were all overflowing. but mr. fushiguro showed you zero sympathy, staring down at you with icy eyes and not a shred of mercy. you were exactly where he wanted you, and he was about to seal the deal.

“i really expected more from you”

those were the words that broke you in half, your fear of failure becoming all to real in that moment. but his next words halted your tears and created a small shred of hope in your despair.

“but i do want to help you. my door is open to you anytime. i have practice questions and study methods that i’m happy to share with you”.

and so here you were, anxiously sitting at his kitchen table trying to solve a few problems that he’d given you to practice. but you couldn’t seem to figure them out no matter how hard you tried — brain frying as you tried and failed over and over.

but it was all exactly as it was supposed to be — the problems were never solvable in the first place — there were no right answers — they were simply meant to melt your little brain.

you came back to his house time and time again, and each study session was worse than the last. you were never able to figure anything out on your own, you always needed his help, you couldn’t do anything without him.

it was no shocker when you began to admire him, depend on him, feel like you couldn’t do any schoolwork on your own. his months of manipulation were finally paying off, you were finally a dumb little thing who had no self confidence and who was constantly begging for his help. and he was happy to provide that for you, but you were going to have to start making it worth his time — his expert help doesn’t come for free.

you’re not sure what possessed you to agree, to have his cock lodged in the back of your throat while he groaned and leaned back in his seat — but you needed his help, this was just a small price to pay. you’d bob your head and choke on his tip as it pressed into your esophagus as if your future depended on it, because at this point, it kind of did.

but the prices kept getting steeper; eventually a quick blow wasn’t enough to appease mr. fushiguro. he wanted more. if you wanted to keep his help you needed to be face down and bent over his kitchen table — and so that’s exactly what you did.

brain foggy and knees aching your sweaty fingers grasped at the smooth table top as he took you from behind. his strained cock dragged against your sopping walls, your ass nearly bruising from how hard he was fucking himself into you. whimpers and moans overflowed from your lips as your bare tits pressed into empty worksheets — the two of you had completely glossed over the “studying” portion of your night tonight, skipping right to your payment.

you could barely even think straight, your head spinning with endorphins as you cried out in response to the tip of his cock kissing against your cervix. his fingers dug into the sides of your hips, pressing little red circles into your skin from how hard he grasped at you. your were shaking, your entire body pulsing with bliss each time he thrusted up into your cunt.

he was so happy with himself, balls deep inside one of the smartest students who had ever graced his classroom. he’d taken a girl with so much potential it was sickening, and convinced her that she was worthless, reduced her to a less than average student who was desperate enough to take her professor’s cock in exchange for better grades. you were pathetic, embarrassing even, laying here on your stomach and babbling complete nonsense while he filled you up.

all it took was patience and a sprinkle of manipulation to get you like this. to make you a dumb little fuck toy who came to his house several times a week under the guise of getting help with class work.

and he’d keep this up until you could barely even think for yourself — reducing you to a brainless little pet who deserves to be stuffed with cum and nothing else.

you didn’t belong in STEM, you didn’t belong in a university in general — you belonged right here on his kitchen table, your face sitting in a puddle of your own drool.

you were stupid, or at least he convinced you that you were so much so that you actually became it.

[misschifuyu]

Can I get boyfriend headcanons (with nsfw) of Sanzu and Kokonoi? Also, I wanted to say I’m loving your blog and your writing! Thank you!

- hi there babe !! tysm im so so glad to hear that you like my blog omg ;; here are the hcs you asked for of the best boys ♡ 

Sanzu and Koko boyfriend headcanons + n/sfw

characters: sanzu haruchiyo + kokonoi hajime

genre: fluff + n/sfw

warnings: explicit content, orgasm denial, oral (both)

Sanzu

so ive already done some relationship hcs for him, but there can never be too much sanzu content so we will continue from those already written

going on a date with sanzu won't be something particularly regular, however when circumstances come together to allow you to spend time with your boyfriend, he will definitely try and make up for the lack of outings

he's not someone who would enjoy a simple date in a café. sure, if you wanted to sit for a while in Starbucks, he will reluctantly tag along behind you

though he hasn't a clue what any of the ridiculous names on the menu mean

but you will find him growing bored quite quickly. so make sure to get him out of the coffee shop and find something else to do. shopping is a prime example, but other times sanzu likes to actually do something fun

that is, if you happen to pass by an arcade, prepare to be dragged into it

doesn't matter if you didn't have any change on you, this was a date after all, so sanzu will be more than happy to pay for the games

he's surprisingly - and, honestly, concerningly - good at those shooting games where you have a prop of a gun

you don't know where he got those skills from, but you figured it was probably best not to ask

he's shit at racing games though. he won't admit to a loss against you, ever

instead, it would always be because of a distraction or because the game itself was rigged

he can be quite the stubborn one at times

but if you took him out to get a snack, he'll completely forget about getting overlapped by you, several times, in the race.

he's got a sweet tooth, so anything of the sugary sort will bring his mood up

when you brought him a bundle of sweets for his birthday he practically proposed to you on the spot he was so happy

and he pays extra attention to whatever you show a liking towards. he stores away these pieces of information and will make use of them in moments you would least expect it

now...onto the spicy content

okay so I don't see sanzu being vanilla

he probably isn't as freaky as some would presume, but he definitely isn't just going to make love to you and call it a day

the thing about him is that he's impatient

if you start to tease him, be it with subtle kisses on his neck or passing your hand over a certain spot of his trousers, he won't only get riled up in a matter of seconds

he'll also just straight up pounce on you or drag you off to somewhere a little more secluded if you were in public

it drives him absolutely crazy if you happen to have long nails and leave scratches on his back

it lets him know that he is, indeed, making you feel like a million dollars just by using his body

and it just...he loves it

foreplay will very rarely involved receiving oral on his behalf; he likes to leave that for later

when your hair is a mess and you've got a fucked-out expression before even going down on him

it would be like a half-time, though you didn't really get to rest much during said time

he won't hold back by that point, so you'd always have to stabilise yourself with your hands on his thighs unless you wanted to choke on him

he will, however, go down on you before getting into the main act, as he liked to call it. he'd always praise you on how good you taste

looking down to see his piercing eyes staring back up at you, the scars beside his mouth showing ever so slightly..

it was a sight you couldn't keep up for very long as your strength would falter at movements of his tongue

when it comes to positions, sanzu usually likes to be in one that will allow you to hang onto him for dear life as he pounds into you

he also loves taking you from behind, but only because it allows him to pull you back by your hair and whisper the filthiest words you have ever heard his mouth speak

"you like that? huh?...I figured as much from a slut such as yourself, now keep those noises coming before I make you scream even louder, babe"

bruises on your knees would always show up if he decided to keep you on all fours for the whole time

and he wouldn't always let you have the privilege of being on the softness of a bed

no, he'd do you anywhere

so be sure your wearing some easy fitting clothes

just so you don't have to struggle whilst putting them back on after making his car windows steam up in the middle of a parking lot

just before a meeting with bonten, no less

Koko

same as sanzu, ive written a few hcs for him too, but we shall do a few more bc koko supremacy

right so...hair

so we all know that koko styles his hair and it looks quite pleasing to the eye, what with the half of his hair flowing down at the side of his face

now, what you didn't know is that koko gets up pretty early to be able to sport this look for the whole day. we're not talking 8am, no. 5:30am, the reason completely unknown to even you, his partner

he would wake you up once, having slept over at his place, as much as he tried to slip his arm from under you as carefully as he could

wondering what on earth he was doing, you would get up at trace his footsteps to his bathroom, seeing him with a comb in his hand at an abnormally large pot of hair cream on the sink

he hadn't expected you to wake up, but he would quickly invite you to sit on the toilet seat upon hearing you ask what he was doing

from that moment on, you would always ask to try and style his hair whenever you stayed over, or even just play with it

admittedly, he loves the feeling of your fingers run through his hair as you'd try your best to make it look just as perfect as it always did

it would fail, the first few times, which would result in you just putting it up into a side ponytail cue jojo siwa reference

all in all, though, he quite enjoyed it whenever you'd play with his hair, so you were more than welcome to do so

as a result, he would ask about your hair routine or, if you didn't really have one, your skincare routine

he'd always be amazed at your smooth skin whenever he held your face to give you a kiss

so you'd best drop him the tips and tricks

some weekends, the two of you would do a sort of spa day, where you'd both shower - or bathe, depending on how motivated you felt - and run through haircare and skincare together

koko really liked the facemasks you'd bring over whenever you did this, especially when you would struggle to put in on your face because they could sometimes be a little tricky

think of it as a cute, couple's day off, which he would always look forward to at the end of the week

but he'd never admit this to anyone, not a chance

onto the n/sfw side of this man...

much like sanzu, he's not a vanilla person. but he does have his fair share of kinks

orgasm play is right at the top of said list. he absolutely loves to be fully in control, and watching you writhe around each time he'd bring you close to your high, he'd take his hand, or anything else, away from where you'd most need him

his stare would always turn slightly darker when he'd see you before him, at his mercy and covered in sweat, and he wished he could capture the moment forever

he's give you a good three to four failed orgasms until he would let up his teasing act, but not before he'd get you to beg for him

it would always send shivers down his spine when he'd watch your almost tear ridden eyes look up at him, pleading for him to just give in already

"I don't know...you just look so pathetic each time I do it, I almost want to just leave you here and let you get off by yourself"

his sly smile would always stick with you as he'd utter out any words to you, right before giving you one last swipe of his hand between your legs and bringing you towards him

as much as he would usually be the one in charge, loving how you'd feel around him and making the bed creak with every thrust, if you tried hard enough you could turn the tables

he'd be a bratty sub, mind you, but watching him come undone beneath you will be worth the struggling to actually get him in that position

whenever you'd ride him, his hands would always be roaming the curves of your body, trying to get ahold of as much of you as he could

it would be a way to try and get back into control, but as soon as you'd squeeze around him, he'd fall back into his almost helpless state

but, back to him being the one pounding into you, expect him to bring you as close to him as possible

one of his favourites is bringing you up from being on all fours up to his chest, watching you struggle as you try to stay upright as he'd suck the skin on the back of your neck

"so much for being in control, you pathetic whore"

you never got out of there with functioning legs, that much was true

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

If ur still doing that ask game uh 002 metadede ship wishlist :D

mario WAHOO noise great job starting self-indulgent hours anon (thank you)

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them:

i had to check my archives for this. apparently the first metadede post i reblogged was january 2020, but looking at that post i think i shipped them even a bit before that. i do very clearly remember however, when i first joined the fandom and saw that ship, that i thought it was weird and that i thought shipping kirby characters/circles in general was kinda weird. hahahahaha oh my gosh look at me now

My thoughts:

they're idiots 💖 they make each other lose braincells and feed each others bad ideas. more than that, they know that they dont have to act a certain way in front of each other. they dont need to impress or feel like they need to set an certain example, so they can really relax and have fun. adult to adult friendship 🤝

What makes me happy about them:

okay okay repeating myself a lot around here but hey two sole adults with a long history. hating each other but then being forced to get to know each other and then LEARNING TO RESPECT AND ESTABLISH MUTUAL TRUST. im so weak for enemies to friends i cant get over it 🤦‍♂️

What makes me sad about them:

hmmm nothing? i loooove drama between these two lmao so very little could make me sad about them. unless in canon they said explicitly they dont trust each other that would be sad 👎

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

i don't actually read that much fanfic, i think the metadedes ive read were just oneshots/otherwise really short and im gonna be honest i dont remember what happens in most of them. trying my best though, im gonna answer this with i think conflicts are solved too easily. its like one snuggle later and everythings okay. to be fair most metadede centered fics are fluff/comfort so whatever you know, i dont go in expecting that stuff from it

Things I look for in fanfic:

as said before i dont read much fanfic, especially long fanfic. i like short oneshots :) but if i did read long fanfic 👇 see below

My wishlist:

*deep breath* i want more metadede content where they drive in the enemies to friends to lovers. i want them to be the biggest mess ever and argue all the time and be petty and kick each others asses before they understand each other. the kf2 novel was pretty fun in that regard. this might be an unpopular opinion but as i said before just hhrhrhghg when theres stuggle it makes the end result more rewarding. the boys gotta work for their happy end

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

meta with whoever honestly, theres a ton of candidates out there. metagala or metaroach esp though. and dedede i guess with queen ripple. i dont ship those two but i hc that dedede had a crush on her for a while

My happily ever after for them:

kinda thought about this before and its a bittersweet answer. not cause i love sad stuff and drama in my ship this time surprisingly.

meta loves doing his own thing. taking some stuff from the novels (i think puppet princess in this case) he likes living freely, that's why he doesn't serve under anyone or take orders. he travels the universe a lot for one reason or another, and i think he can't live without exploring and adventuring. compared with dedede who likes being grounded in one place to protect everyone and cant leave dreamland, their lifestyles are incompatible. i cant imagine them settling down together like couples usually would. best case scenario i have is meta is only out some parts of the year, so he visits and lives in dreamland as much as he can, and he calls dedede often when he cant. bit of a long distance relationship :')

[sorjuanas]

june 22nd

taglist idk honestly i'm just tagging a few friends lol pls lmk if you don't want to be tagged and if you do want to be tagged also lmk 💘💗💝💕💓 @ruckenfigurs @dilfdeclan @chaosofbattle @dreamertrilogys @richardsiiken @boysaints

[Transcript.

what happened? nothing. i think that's the problem really, i can sit and do nothing sometimes. more accurately i cannot do anything. i can't move my hands, or get the words to come out. i feel like i'm never going to finish doing it and even though i know - my brain knows it, i will have to start to finish, eventually. my body refuses to acknowledge it, i think my body is tired. i think i should sleep more. i think maybe i should cry more, too, because today when my hands couldn't move i just started crying wailing sobbing. i haven't done that. sobbing wailing crying my heart out like that since i was, i don't know. 

i don't think i remember. at eleven, maybe, when my mother found out i used to hurt my wrists because it was the only command my hands responded to. i don't do that anymore though. i'm good now, i'm kinder, i'm hard-working. i am exemplary. i think i'm trembling right now. i think im shaking. i think i'm not thinking at all and i am simply moving my hands. it's strange how i can move my hands for this, but not anything else, something useful, something people can get, something that reflects my value, my intelligence my will to participate in this society. i think my hands don't want me to participate in this society. i think they just want me to sit down and write, scroll past it all, to not think ever again, they want to wipe my tears and they don't want to muffle my sobs. my dad texted me asking if i wanted to go ride my bike with him. i didn't answer, my fingers were motionless in front of the screen. he told me it was okay if i didn't want to (and like i don't even know if i did want to. if would be beneficial to my health, he says, to clear my mind and flex my muscles and breathe actual air rather than whatever else i've been inhaling these past twenty four months.) he told me it was okay, because he is good like that. he just asked me to say no. to tell him no.

and i think that’s also the hard part, many people have told him no before. he’s very nervous these days. i can tell he’s trying his best but i think the distance is killing him. i think he’s so incredibly sad and i don't know how to help him if not getting good grades so he can look at me and not worry about my grades and my future and how successful and happy and fulfilled my life is going to be, so he doesn't have to worry about me being miserable the way he feels. i don't want to make him sad. i just wish i could move my hands, move my eyes, read what i need to read and not what i want to read, listen with my ears open to what i need to listen. i want my hands to have a brain of their own but no free will, so i can use their knowledge and predisposition to make up for the fact that i have none of those things left. 

i don't know what to do anymore. i don't know where my phone is. i don't want to look at my phone ever again i think i'm going to cry again. its close, it gets closer, the tears are closer. the tears are closer, the sobs in my throat feel strange and a hundred times more familiar than my hands and my ears and my eyes. i haven't heard of these sobs in my throat in years. decades. not like this, not with such an intensity. i wonder how mom is. i wonder if she’s happy with my academic achievements - scratch that i know she's not happy, but i at the very least can mildy hope she is content. not that the results require a happy response they are mediocre at best. 

i just think i have done worse before. i have been so deep before, i don't know how i got where i am now but i think it was too hard, too much work, i don't know how to do it again. i don't know how to do it for me, instead of whatever else is pushing me through. probably my father’s grief. probably my mother’s anger — disappointment. everything else. anything else. i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what to do. i am going to try and breathe. breathe breathe breathe. i really wanted today to be the day. i don't know what happened.

dad will be home soon. he will know nothing. it saddens me, in a way, knowing nobody will know i cried my heart out in these walls today, with only me and myself to hear and bear witness to it. i don't want to have to deal with it alone, but i don't want anyone else to deal with it. this is something mine, my burden and my secrets. explaining sounds like too much work. i do wonder sometimes how many times my dad or my mom have cried their heart out in my house while i was out. and when i arrived the crime scene was clean, and so i never found out. i do wonder. because after i finished crying, i cleaned my room, i organized my closet, maybe so not to think, maybe to give myself the illusion that there is a fixable mess out there. something i can fix. dad will come home at any moment now. i hope he’s happy with the room.

End Transcript.]

[guksauce]

~TickledPink!~

Part Seven

Pairing: Jjk x Reader Pregnant AU

Word Count: 4,367K

Rated: M

Book Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mild Smut, Adult Language, Fluff City.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: Thank you to those who show this story and myself love 💖 Thank you to everyone who’s been on this journey with me.

Tag List: @jamkookies @jk97luv @1-in-abillion

For weeks the question of whether or not you were brave enough to move forward with this pregnancy loomed like a storm cloud over your head. Beyond the crashing fear you felt, the thought of who you were with and where you were now in comparison to the life you’d lived before, you were swollen with confidence from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Still, the memory you try so hard to avoid thinking about climbs up the back of your throat like the rising sun through the windows in the kitchen, scratching and threatening to rip out a scream. The coffee cup in your hands shakes as you stare through the blinds; imagination turning the perfectly trimmed hedges into a dirty green dumpster. It overflows with the smell of rotten food, waste, and your now broken pride. The coffee inside the cup is scalding, and you're positive it is burning the prints right off the pads of your fingers, but you are too mentally exhausted to care. A branch of the tree in the yard, littered with forest colored leaves, sways in front of the sun and makes the rays shining through the gaps glint in your eyes. It turned what should be a beautiful golden glow into the dingy flicker of the broken sign at the diner that ugly rainy night. 

The you that stands in the kitchen begs to close your eyes. They burn as the result of not being able to think clearly enough to even blink. But the you that called Namjoon in the wee hours of the morning that day was caught in the crazed eyes of your offender. You remembered him being wild, rabid even. You also remembered that you wouldn't have been surprised if he had been foaming from the mouth under the black mask covering his face. 

Just as the sun breached the height of the highest trees, the kitchen exploded with a blinding light, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata playing softly from the speaker on the counter behind you almost forcefully dragging your emotions out further and further. Where the sunlight streaming in should have warmed your insides and shocked you out of your inner turmoil, it instead highlighted your pain and the drops of salty tears painting wet trails down your cheeks just as Jungkook stepped into the kitchen. Halting in his tracks, his eyebrows cinched together and his heart dropped to his stomach as he watched your pain shake your frame to its core. It took all of five long strides across the kitchen to reach you before he rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his comforting arms around you. You recoiled for a moment, so lost in your memories that the arms that intended to protect you blended with the ones that swore to harm you. 

“Shhh. It’s alright y/n.” He cooed softly, coaxing you away from the demons that haunted you and into a new unfamiliar world of bliss. “It’s just me. Im sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper, tangled in the strands of your hair that had fallen in your face. The silence that followed was calming to say the least. The longer the two of you stood facing the warmth of the sun and the beginnings of summer's lush greenery beginning to bloom in the garden, the more you felt the weight of impending events to come wear off of you. Spinning you in his grasp, Jungkook guided your arms around his neck, pulled you closer, and easily lifted you off your feet in a dizzying twirl as the piano notes dramatically swirled around the morning lit kitchen, resulting in a fit of giggles from both of you. You let this feeling sink into your bones and will your muscles to relax and mentally ask politely for your heart to stop pounding in your chest in such a violent manner. It feels so good that you can't stand the thought of having to ruin it, but your thoughts won't stop attacking you. 

“I have my first Ultrasound appointment today.” You share. He doesn't stop swaying but his familiar chocolate orbs gaze down at you with an emotion that not even he is sure fits the situation. It’s just a smile. One you don't expect to see, but it's littered with what you can only imagine being...excitement? But why? Unbeknownst to you, somewhere inside him...he is. However, he can see by the expression on your face, that despite his excitement, you are terrified. 

“Whatever happens y/n, you are not alone. I know this is beyond cliche to say but, everything will be alright. There's no way in hell me, or Namjoon, or any of the others are going to let you go through this without support.” You don't mean to but, you watch the way his lips bounce off each other when he says words like “Me” and “be”. They glisten in ways that could make any woman weak, but the meaning spilling from them means so much more to you. It pains Jungkook to add what he's about to but he says it anyway in hopes that whatever worrying thoughts you might be having, sort themselves into the appropriate folders. “Whatever decision you choose to make, I will be right here with you.” Another comfortable silence falls over both of you as you lean closer into his embrace. 

“This might be too much to ask but...would you come with me today?” You ask and hold your breath, waiting for his answer. You expect him to say ‘No’. You almost WANT him to say no when the weight of your question pulls your eyes from his lips down between where your bodies pressed together, just as Namjoon rounds the corner to the kitchen. 

Namjoon had been gone all day. Caught his favorite coffee shop right at opening time where he ordered an iced americano and a raspberry scone. He had run eight miles to the park with the lake he liked to visit, and watched the reflection of the clouds in the water for an hour before running back home. When he’d arrived, instead of heading straight upstairs like he normally would have, the dryness scratching at the back of his throat begged to be squelched with cold water from the fridge. But upon hearing your question before he’d dared to peek around the wall, he watched. Watched the way Jungkook let his arms hang loosely at the small of your back. Watched the way the tips of your fingers absentmindedly played with the curls resting at the nape of his neck. The two of you looked so natural together that Namjoon almost felt the raspberry scone forcefully lurch its way up his throat. It isn't that he didn't want you or Jungkook to be happy, but he'd always imagined it would be him holding you like that someday. Namjoon closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing the fluffy pastry contents of his stomach to go back down and stepped into the kitchen. 

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to answer your question with an excited “Of course!”. He didn't know what it was about this situation, but he couldn't deny that even in his young age, helping you through this and being part of the experience was everything he wanted. There had been so many days and nights that he had admired his mother for becoming the strong woman she is today through being a mom. Jungkook could say the same for his father after watching how he had supported young kook’s mother in both big and small ways. Jungkook understood the importance of bringing a child into this world and thus the importance of assuring that the child that he or she would always have people in their life that love them unconditionally. The corners of his lips twitched up in a smile when your eyes flashed up to meet his. The surprise that widened them caught every glint of light streaming in through the window and in that moment, Jungkook saw you in a new and vivid way...but so had Namjoon. 

“I promise i'll take care of you.” Koo whispered, his warm breath fluttering against your cheeks. Joon, after finally deciding that he couldn't take it anymore, burst through the room and ripped open the fridge, snatched out a bottle of water and knocked three more over in the process. You don't mean to but you find yourself taking a large leap away from Jungkook. The expression he wears is full of understanding but it doesn't keep him from grinning at the blush coloring your features. 

“Good Morning Joonie.” You don't recognize the forced voice that flies from your mouth. It's too high and sounds distorted, making Jungkook smirk more and huff out a small breathy laugh. You glare at him and kick out your leg playfully in his direction but you could say the same for your vision as well when you finally scan the kitchen in its entirety; distorted and warped. “How was your run? I planned on catching you before you left but you were gone before I could get to the bottom of the stairs.” 

If it weren't for the fact that you had grown up with this man, the very carefully placed facade Namjoon wore would have slipped right past you. But you noticed the way his shoulders were slumped and the lack of a whistle sang through his lips, breaking the silence in the kitchen. But above all, it was the “Uh…” he only does when he's especially nervous that he started his next sentence with that let you know something was up. 

“Uh, morning. And sorry about that. I was trying to get to the bakery when they opened. You know how much i love scones.” What could you say to that? You knew he liked scones, but you were almost certain they’d never really been a favorite of his. Then again, he's been living a much different life than the one you knew his 16 year old past self to live. It's upsetting, you think, how time has gifted you with a lifelong friendship with this incredible man but somewhere along the way that same time has made you forget who he is...or only remember who he was and have no idea who he has become. Sparing a glance up at you, he shakes the bottle of water in his hand and smiles before exiting the kitchen. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook calls after him and follows him out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts again. But this time doesn't feel so heavy. Your coffee has cooled to a comfortable temperature and your mind is full with how it feels to be wrapped in Jungkook's embrace. You think about how ridiculously school girlish you feel when you're with him and bounce on the balls of your heals in attempts to keep yourself from squealing until the coffee in your belly starts to make you feel queasy. 

A glimpse of a single white butterfly catches your eye. Its tiny little wings flap tirelessly as it floats past the window. It looks oddly familiar. Or perhaps feels familiar. That feeling...That fluttering feeling. You rest a hand over your thickening torso and swallow hard as you take a seat at the kitchen table. How...familiar…

It's time. The clock on your phone strikes 12:00PM and an alarm follows promptly after, screaming obnoxiously in your face. It's time. It's time. You’ve just downed your third mug of coffee when Jimin enters the kitchen and waves at you with both of his happy little hands. It's time. You never once moved from your spot, glued to the chair ever since you saw the butterfly. Time had flown by you. You wonder if you ever even blinked. It's time. There's a spot on the table that holds your attention. The wood, though it's already dark, looks burnt in a particular place. It looks like a black hole and you treat it as such, staring aggressively at it and wishing for it to swallow you up whole until a set of ringed fingers enter your line of site and brush over the surface. 

“One night we had a food fight and somehow someone's napkin got mixed up in the chaos and dropped onto a candle we had lit in the center.” Yoongi. His voice is low and comes out slow and smooth. You dare trail your eyes from his fingers to his face, much like the black abyss you'd imagined the spot to be, you find his gaze on the burnt table is farther away than you expected, reminiscing a moment in time when you didnt exist in their home. “Hoseok had to get the fire extinguisher and covered our dinner in white fluff.” A smile twitches on his dry lips. Regardless, it's nice to hear him speak to you again. 

“We laughed forever.” Tae says as he rounds the table and takes a seat next to you. His presence alone makes you feel better, the goofy expression he wears when you look at him makes you laugh and shake your head. 

“We had to throw it all away.” Jimin says and sets a bottle of water in front of you with a smile and nods at you as if to say ‘Drink up.’. So, you do. 

“So many wasted noodles. I'd been looking forward to eating them so bad.” Jungkook says, pouty lips and rosy cheeks making his fair skin glow and his dark curls darker. The lot of them laugh together in agreement as Jungkook holds a hand out to you. “Ready?”

A nod of your head ‘yes’ feels more like a magical bewitched wiggle of your nose because you're already at the clinic before you can take your next breath. From the passenger's seat you watch Yoongi’s hands on the steering wheel glide effortlessly over the matte black finish. You wonder if asking him to come was too far fetched of an idea. He hasn't seemed bothered. In fact he had not seemed like anything. Not a single muscle in his face had twitched, not a single hint of emotion. He'd simply scooped his keys off the counter and held the door open for Jungkook, Namjoon, and myself. 

When he puts the car in park, you dread the moment he takes his hands off the wheel. You stay seated, your body swaying to and fro as the weight of the car shifts while the guys all file out. 

You can do this Y/n. You can. You got this.  

Joon opens your car door for you and carefully helps you out one step at a time. From where you stand in the parking lot, you can see the giant letters on the front of the building that read (MEDICAL FACILITY). They Are daunting and make you shiver and lean into Joon’s side. 

“It's alright y/n.” He whispers to you quietly and kisses comfortingly into your hair. “Joonies got you.” 

Inside it's so much harder to exist in this life and coexist in the presence of others once you've found a spot in the waiting room. Namjoon promised to return with your bag from the car before you could blink, a panicked skip in his step when he ran back out the rotating door in the hospital lobby. Jungkook watched his back like a lost puppy after Namjoon all but shouted an order at him to get you signed in. Since this morning the tension between them had been high and clouded and you wondered where Jungkook had followed him to before leading you away to your current terror. 

It's too white in here. The chairs look like they have not been updated since the 70’s. The plants in the corners of the room had begun to wilt, filling the space with stagnant water and rotting soil mixed with the pungent scent of sterilizer. The flickering fluorescent lights above you bring back memories you wish you could avoid forever but it only highlights exactly why you're here. There's a painting on the wall that looks like a really old silk painting. The material is worn and frayed at the edges but the dull grey strokes depict what looks to be a man in a carriage being pulled by the likes of a Dragon through a body of water. Your eyes scan the length of the dragon just as you hear the nurse call for the next patient as though your head was underwater, glancing down at the plaque that reads “Man Driving the Dragon.”

Worry settles in the pit of your stomach when you realize neither Jungkook nor Namjoon are back, and the mountain in the back of the painting starts to look intimidatingly large when a hand rests on your knee. Your chair had begun to squeak under the shaking of your leg, and Yoongi could tell that you were starting to panic when your eyes had latched on to the painting. He didn't say anything; rubbed his thumb over the fabric of your jeans just once and it was all you needed to crumble the mountain in the painting and relax all of your muscles. For a moment you worry you've bothered him, but when both boys come rushing back to your side, he gives your knee a small pat and stands just as your name is called. All at once your body shakes, your heart drops to your stomach pounding hard enough to keep your legs from moving, the message never reaching your brain. The nurses jacket flows behind her, softly brushing the back of her knees while she scribbles information on the clipboard in her hands. 

“Breathe Y/n.” Namjoon whispers in your ear when he notices your eyes scan every room you pass, searching for something to distract you or to frighten you further, you aren't sure which one. He’s careful when he touches you, fingertips gripping your elbow to guide you back to the here and now. The overwhelming scent of steryl fries every hair in your nostrils and starts a storm in your head, the hallway closing in around you. Jungkook is there as you start to sway, a hand on your back to steady you and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi at your flank with his hands out in front of him. Suddenly the nurse is stopping in front of you, the door is opening and streaming out of the room through the dark is a very soft off white glow, followed by a smell that reminds you of the eucalyptus body wash setting on the shelf in the shower at home. 

And that's what this feels like out of the blue, a sense of homeness. It's the pink orchids in full bloom on the counter, the jar of fluffy cotton balls and the assortment of blue tinted tissues next to the reclined leather chair in the center. It's also the bottom half of the walls painted sage green and the top a crisp white in a way that makes you think of decorative ideas for the nursery at home. But above all, it's the three men following behind you and the four others waiting for you at home that gives you the most comfort. 

After a quick change of clothes and the prick of a finger for blood work, you're comfortably laid back in the chair just as the cold gel is squeezed onto your belly. The sonographer that replaced the nurse is bright eyed and almost overly hyper as she presses the device to your stomach and chirps happily in a way that somehow reminds you of Jimin. 

“I'm excited to show you your baby today, miss Y/L/N!” You don't know where it stems from but the smile on your face spreads from ear to ear as a fuzzy black and white image appears on the screen. But then she's pointing at the screen to something small in the middle and your eyes are glued. 

“This little spot right here...is your baby!” When the Sonographer turns back to make sure you've seen it, her smile turns from excited to warm. The men with you have crowded around you gazing with awe at the monitor. Namjoon behind you with his hands on your shoulders. Jungkook at your side, kneeling down so his face is inches from yours. And Yoongi at your knees leaning with his fingers pressed into the taut leather of the chair to get a closer look. 

“Wow…” Jungkook breathes out, absentmindedly lacing your fingers together. You squeeze his fingers just as Joon squeezes your shoulders tenderly and Yoongi falls to his elbows at your thighs patting the same spot on your knee as he had before. 

“Everything looks good too. It’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.” The sonographer speaks quieter and separates her last couple of words like she knows it's exactly what you need to hear right now. A moment of anxiety makes you think she's saying it because she's judging you for what happened, but when you tear your eyes from the screen and catch her gaze, you know she's being genuine. “I'm going to give you all a couple minutes to look at this while i go grab your copies. I'll be back in a moment.” With a smile she bows softly and leaves the room to us. Yoongi watches the way Namjoon and Jungkook lovingly caress you and feels a pang of guilt in his stomach. 

“Actually, could the two of you leave for a second? I'd like a moment with y/n.” He asks, standing straight and the boys share a worried look. 

“Hyung…” Jungkook mumbles looking at you, to which you nod after squeezing his hand. 

“It's alright. It's not like he's going to eat me or anything.” You assure him softly. Both boys obey their older brother and exit the room. Yoongi hold a hand out to you and you take it without hesitating. You'd been waiting for the opportunity to just sit down and talk with him since the moment you stepped foot into his home. 

“I just wanted to apologize for…” His eyebrows sinch together, that forever deep in thought look on his face passes through complex stages of emotions and it's so endearing that you struggle to do everything in your power not to giggle. He starts again, this time with more confidence in his voice. “I wanted to apologize for doubting you. For not believing in Namjoon when he needed me most. For not realizing what you meant to him. To Jungkook. And in turn...Me.” It's not what you expect to hear from him.  

“It feels like a dream to hear you say that. You’ve been right about all of it from the beginning. It was an unrealistic expectation to think all of you would just be completely okay with having to deal with the change of someone new in the comfort of your home.” Yoongi nods slowly, taking every word of your thoughts into consideration. 

“Yes, they may have been true at the time but the change was good. Your presence shook up our world and gave our minds a new direction. You sparked a new inspiration in us. I wrote five songs yesterday. Namjoon wrote three. Even Taehyung had me look over some new lyrics. And Jimin a melody for a song we've been stuck on for a while now.” Again you're unsure of what to say but you feel at home all over again as though a line had never divided the two of you to begin with. A knock at the door breaks the bubble but a weight feels lifted from your shoulders and the future feels lighter. 

Four printed copies of your ultrasound crinkle quietly as the boys all pass them around. The entire group is snuggled around you on the couch. You Are snuggled into Jungkook on your left, Jin leans close on your right with Namjoon cuddled up behind him. At your feet Jimin leans back against Yoongi’s chest between your knees with Hobi curled up between Jins knees, and Tae between Koo’s with one of his legs thrown over Tae’s shoulder as he fidgets with a rip in Koo’s jeans. The fireplace is roaring, fat raindrops pelt the windows, and Tae’s favorite jazz mix plays softly in the background. The long day of events runs through your mind like a roll of film, buzzing softly but you finally feel like it's okay to accept the love they just keep offering to you for nothing in return. It's exhilarating but your heart is at ease all the same. 

In your hand you observe the child growing inside of you and you take a deep content breath and nuzzle further into Jungkook’s side. He’s been just as content if not more since seeing the baby for the first time. Since seeing your face light up in a way he had not experienced yet. Now you were glowing and warm and he swore to himself that he would do his damndest to keep it that way. With his cheek pressed into your hair he observed the photo with you over your shoulder, imagining teeny tiny hands that looked like yours and smiled, kissing your temple. He smiled more when your chest rose a little higher, your body shivering against his as you let out a shaky breath. 

“Someone help. I can’t find it. Where is it?” Jin whines and everyone bickers at him for not being able to see it, laughter in their voices as they tease him. Namjoon attempts to point it out but you giggle when he’s too far over. Behind you, Koo chuckles and points at the baby in Jin’s picture. 

“It's this little bug right here.” He says and you smile at the nickname. 

“Little bug. That's so cute.” You say. 

“Looks more like a peanut.” Tae says, looking up at you with a wide boxy smile. This moment feels precious, surrounded by real unconditional love. Welcome to your new beginning Y/n. 

Part Six

Master List

Part Eight

[cherryronpa]

i don’t tend to post stuff like this here - i try to keep my art blog a happy environment. but i do feel like i do need to talk about my burnout somewhere where it’s more difficult to ignore. if you’re just here for the pretty picture, here it is. the talk about my burnout and mental health, however, is under the cut (be warned, there’s talk of burnout, depression, and suicide)

i hold a pretty privileged position not really bestowed upon many danganronpa fans - i have an audience of 22.5k subscribers that grows steadily by dozens every day, near-guaranteed 10k+ views on new videos so long as youtube censorship isn’t throwing one of its characteristic shitfits, and dozens of die-hard fans. i should be at the top of my game.

and yet i feel burned out. 

i feel like i’ve only produced 5 “real” videos over the course of the year. youtube’s algorithm demands constant uploads, however i cannot sustainably upload analysis videos every week; it’s quite literally impossible. scripting takes time, voiceover takes time, editing takes a LOT of time (like, 60-70% of a video’s creation time is the editing). i can’t put out my videos weekly, and the youtube algorithm doesn’t appreciate that and shunts my videos if i disappear for more than a week - so i tend to intercut giant videos with tiny little memes that take maybe an hour to produce. they do cause the main video to take a little longer to produce, but miniscule amounts (like, maybe an extra 3-5 hours per large video). 

however i’m starting to become more known for these little cursed skit videos that i put zero thought and maybe one effort into, rather than the analysis or rewrite videos i pour my heart and soul into for several weeks at a time. every single analysis video i’ve put out has turned up less and less views, even if it’s a video that the algorithm and youtube should be promoting to high hell (eg. i feel like a video where I rank every trial in Danganronpa should be a video Youtube promotes the hell out of to anyone with danganronpa as a recommended topic). it makes me wonder why i even bother at all to analyse this series i love and to share that love with the world, when simply making surface-level tithes that return the same 6 comments over and over again seems to be the appeal. 

even with a description talking about the burnout and my frustration with the situation, most people didn’t even read it. even some of my own friends didn’t until i pointed it out. 224 comments, and maybe 3-4 actually talk about the description and what i described. the rest are the same jokes everyone else already said 30 times, and even i don’t find them funny anymore.

people’s advice doesn’t seem to work either; “i appreciate your analyses!” and “you should focus on what you want to make!” are indeed people trying their best to make me feel better. but the truth is, when i do make what i want, i don’t see the results i want. trying to get an analysis video to break the views in a week that a dumb little meme video gets over two days is consistently heart-wrenching to watch. ‘i appreciate your analyses’ is a very much minority opinion - the majority of people who watch my content do not care about them. and to watch weeks of your work essentially go to waste over and over again, once again, makes me wonder why i’m even bothering. 

it’s very clear i’m at a stage where i can no longer relate to my general audience. the advice provided is rarely from the standpoint of someone who actually goes through what I do. it’s a very much privileged problem to go through, i don’t deny that - but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a problem. no amount of “oh, the youtube algorithm/the fandom is just horrible, you keep being you!” is going to actually FIX the issues. i know the youtube algorithm is horrible, i have to actually deal with it censoring my videos constantly. telling me that youtube or the fandom are screwed up just annoys me now - despite my atrocious memory problems, it’s one of the few things i do actually remember.

i’ve watched my mental health take a nosedive over the course of the year, and i’m sure this would’ve happened even without COVID-19. where i was once almost completely able to cope with my depression and anxiety and it was rarely ever a problem, where i once believed i did in fact have worth, the recent months have caused me to spiral right back into that depression. even though im at the most successful i’ve ever been, i feel completely worthless because that success is built on the literal scraps i throw off the cutting room floor rather than the videos that receive my honest love, my honest thoughts, and the time that i wanted to give them. i wanted the fandom to see just how amazing these things either were or could have been. instead the fandom is more interested in exclusively characters swearing or whatever cursed bullshit my manic-depression-addled brain decides to create when it opens vegas pro and slams its fists against the keyboard.

that mental health slip has not only put me back in severe risks for depression, anxiety, and stress, worse than they’ve ever been, but it’s returned me to suicidal thoughts. the anxiety of the future of my channel, the anxiety of losing interest in danganronpa over this and this entire year having built up to absolutely nothing, have made me seriously question if i might take my own life. i do have something that will likely stop me from doing so, but i’m not comfortable revealing what it is, and i likely never will be.

i apologise if anything harsh or harmful was said - i really am grateful for what i have, and that’s why this all feels so selfish. i’m not grateful enough for what i already have - despite knowing i should be.

[baggochipps]

‘Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

AN: Hello Readersss and @stellarboystyles, this is my first piece that I’ve ever posted of mine and for that I’d like to thank @stellarboystyles for creating a great way for newbies like me to get our writing out there and gain recognition(experienced writings as well🥰). I am entering this challenge with a friends to lovers piece so yeah I had fun with this. Now without further ado I present to you beautiful people:

‘Our moment’

Ever since you and Harry have been sat in front of one another at the age of 5, you guys have been inseparable. You guys went through what friends go through of course; the arguments and the infamous drift between friends due to the want to fit in and society’s placements, however as soon as y’all got over that and realized that society’s standards shouldn’t be the blueprint to life, you both began strengthening the bond between the two of you in high school despite the fact that Harry, to everyone, was the charming jock and you were only merely thought.

You both still continued to go on though ignoring the wandering eyes and the gasps of air from stuck up popular kids when they saw you both crackling in the hall at the jokes you’ve both shot at each other and the times when you both were caught skipping school together. So by the time you and Harry were at the end of senior year and prom was just a few hours away, Harry planned to go to prom just to hang with those he more than likely won’t ever speak too again and then you would both find yourselves at the end of that night in his car, but as all plans go, it didn’t fail, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected. Yes, you guys left. Yes, you’ve got to hangout, but he leaned in and you kissed him only to laugh it off and never speak of it or bring it up ever again because you’ve already told yourself it was the alcohol you’ve both consumed prior to getting in the car with him, but Harry couldn’t help, but remember your soft pinkish lips against his as he lays down only to get lost in the sight of his ceiling on restless nights. You didn’t know that though because when you asked him he said he didn’t remember that night at all, you laughing it off after that.

Even after that event, you were both officially back to together, as friends. Harry was there for you through the booboos, the mood swings, and family troubles as you were for him, but as things began to get back to the way things were, You were there for the endless amount of girls that he talked to you about even after you’ve expressed that you didn’t wish to hear about his sexapades that left envy in your heart, you were there for his darkest moments and he was there for yours especially when you called him over late at night to hold you because you’ve gave all of yourself away to someone who didn’t deserve any of you.

You guys carried each other through the end of high school to sophomore year of college avoiding another recap of high school prom again and to say it was easy would not be the truth. Along the way there were many college parties or days alone that got cut short due to one look, one bite of the lip and or one lengthy staring contest that would’ve resulted in jeopardizing a great friendship. Conversations of what could be if you and him decided to take that leap surfaced. All in all you’ve both managed to not take it to that point despite the fact that you and Harry shared a room and a very strong bond.

“Har, I don’t think I wanna go to that party tonight.” You sigh as you reminisce about what your mom talked to you about a few days ago, the word ‘separation’ drowning your thoughts. You wanted your parents to be happy, but to think that you had it all wrong, they weren’t always as happy as you thought, makes you question everything.

Harry stopped his search for an shirt just to knell beside your bed and rub your back. You lean into his touch and continue to look at the wall in front of you.

“Who would I get drunk and make Trevor uncomfortable with,” He says as a smile begins forming upon his lips. “ You know, I can’t do that with anyone else. You remember that Annalisa bit ?”

The “Annalisa bit” occurred when You were sick, which doesn’t happen often, and making it to class and college parties wasn’t really an option so Harry went to seek an understudy and Annalisa was his pick. “I found her in the tub of the bathroom asleep after one winecooler” He told you once he got back before plopping right beside you and letting it be known that if you can’t make it too a party he won’t go either because it just wasn’t the same without you.

You didn’t respond yet as you were looking for the strength to just get up “ Or we can always watch a gameplay or a movie or whatever until we feel better, yeah ?” Harry says patiently waiting for your answer. You turn to meet Harry’s emerald green eyes,furrowed brows and small smile in the dimly lit room. Harry searched your eyes as you searched his until you part your lips to speak with a worn expression on your face with a warming smile upon your lips.

“Can we just stay ?” You ask cautiously to which he nods. It takes only a second for Harry to get up and search for a few snacks to pair with some drinks he saved for occasions like these. He never believed in watching a movie without snacks and neither did you. With the snacks in his hand, he goes to sit them on the floor for easy access to then catch with your head bowed as you play with your fingers.

“What’s on your mind, bug ?” He asks, going over to knell beside you again.

“Nothing. Just glad you’re by my side.” Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes get watery. Harry’s faces drops as he notices yours contorting. You clear your throat to speak again until you’re interrupted by his soft voice.

“Come ‘ere.” He gets up and pulls you into an embrace and as though your face against his chest was a trigger you find yourself sobbing.

You couldn’t think about anything except for that day, you felt like you couldn’t even function that day. Harry walked in on you just sitting on the edge of your bed with confusion clouding your mind. The last time you’ve talked to your parents they seemed fine, happier.

Harry rubs your back gently holding you tight enough that you could hear his heart beat and every breathe he takes. It’s almost soothing only you can’t stop thinking about your parents. Harry knew that and it was breaking his heart. He placed a kiss to your forehead as his eyes began to water, that familiar feeling coming about as he remembers the first time he heard his parents were separating.

“I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out,” You choke out and remove your head from under Harry’s chin to look up at him. “I wish I was enough to keep them together.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry says. He takes your face in his hands .”You will always be their girl.”

“But why ?,” you say in a despondent tone. “Why would they just end it ?” His heart sinks again for the hundredth time.” I knew their relationship wasn’t perfect, but why ?”

He hated this so much. He hated to see you look so defeated because you were always so strong despite what you went through, but as though this situation drained all the energy you had, your eyes are low and puffy, and your posture is no longer accentuating confident anymore. He lets the tears that he’s tried to repress fall.

“Maybe they just don’t feel the same way they did around each other anymore ,” Harry speaks honestly, “ When you’re around someone that you love, their smile brightens your day, their laugh is contagious, but even when their not so bubbly or warm you want to experience that with them and the only thing you want to change about the experience is how they felt. I’m sure they had similar feelings towards one another, but feelings fade.” You could only nod as more tears fall and your heart sinks. You knew what he was saying was right, things change and as much you didn’t want things change, things will always change with or without you.

You pull Harry into a tight hug and he can’t help, but hug you just as tight. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Im here, bug.” Harry says. It take a few moments for you both to let go and get ready for the movie. Coraline is always the go-to movie you’d watch when you’d be going through something or nothing, it is definitely your favorite and Harry didn’t mind watching it because of that same reason.

As the movie played, the energy in the room began to settle, you stealing a few glances at Harry while he steals some at you. Neither of you can stop what Harry said just a few moments ago about your parents from flooding his and your mind. As those words flew from his mouth he felt so much emotion behind it as he looked in your eyes and he just knew you felt it too which you did, however anxiety consumed you. You wished to experience him as yours just as much as he did, but your worst fear is losing your best friend so never experiencing Harry in a different light is something you’ve come to terms with. Pulling you out of your thoughts, Harry leans towards you to get your attention.

“Shh you’re making me miss my favorite part.” You lightly push his face away as a light laugh erupts from your mouth.

“The part you’ve seen a million times,” Harry says taking your hand in his, a pout forming upon his lips,” I just want to lay in your lap.”

This was what watching a movie with H is for you and in all honesty it only made you love him more because that’s how he is, always distracting you despite the fact that all you wanted to do was watch the movie. You sigh and clear your lap of your phone for him to lay down.

“Are you happy now ?” You ask as you look down at a very content Harry Styles with his prominent dimples. He nods and focuses on the movie once again.

When the movie finally reaches the end your eyes feel as heavy as Harry’s. Harry raises his head from your lap to look at you.” Feeling any better, bug ?” He asks to which you nod and take in his reassuring smile.

“I’m okay, H, you could head to bed. I might just watch this again.”

“Well I can always stay up with you.”

“No. I just want to say thank. You have been there through everything and I’m sorry if this brought up anything from when your parents were going through it. I just think if I figured this out before they told me I might’ve been able to accept this better,” you shake off the haunting thought before continuing ,” either way, thank you.”

” I will always be there no matter what. You will never have to endure anything alone, y/n y/l/n.” He kisses the top of your head and positions you in between his legs. He pulls you to his chest and lets you lean against him while you shut your eyes.

“When we were young you were such a fashionista, man, with your rainbow shorts and off brand snea-“, you rise up from his chest and turn around swiftly to meet his eyes in amazement. “ You know how much those sneakers meant to me, Styles. Don’t get beat up.”

“Oh ? so you think you could beat me up ?” He returns your expression, straightening his posture. You give him challenging look.

“Oh for fu- we were only playing !” He exclaims. “ And you hit me hard-“ you add.

“And a punch to the gut was your way of solving it, I know.” He laughs aloud at the memory for a moment while you break into a smile. Silence surrounds you both as you and Harry keep your eyes on each other, the smiles fading.

Harry always loved you and the day he pressed his lips against yours only for you to lean into it, you’ve confirmed that you’ve felt the same way. Your tongues brushed each other with such ease and passion, but as soon as you both let go you became hesitant about every move you’ve made because you didn’t know if he really meant to kiss you. I mean he didn’t mean to kiss a lot of girls so you didn’t feel the need to even jeopardize a great friendship for one kiss while he was under the influence.

You break the silence first once a wave of realization washes over you. “ We should get to bed, H.” And with those words you’re getting up with his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“We should talk about this.” Harry gives you a suggesting look. “About what, Harry ?.” You ask as you silently hope it isn’t about you and him.

“About the night we kissed. I mean I kissed you, but you leaned in, love.” The words that leave his mouth makes your lips tingle as they wish to indulge in his taste again.

“And ever since that night, that memory is engraved in my mind and it won’t let up. I can’t sleep because of you so how do you sleep at night ?” You shrug before speaking.

“ I thought I was just another girl, Harry, that you were just doing what you usually do.” You watch him shake his head and disbelief take over his expression. He lets his hand drop from your wrist. “ You told me you didn’t remember so maybe I am just another girl.”

“You’re not.”

“ But you know where I stand on this topic, Harry, so why do you insist on having this conversation ?” You fold your arms as you become slightly frustrated. “When I said all that stuff about your parents and how they must’ve felt towards one another I thought about how I feel abo-“

“Don’t finish that sentence. I just don’t want to talk about this right now.” Before you get the chance walk away Harry’s hand is attached to your wrist again. “ But I do, y/n. I do because I like you a lot and I hate that you won’t even consider being with me despite your list of what-ifs.” Harry says as you pout. You weren’t looking to talk about this, but you didn’t want push this away anymore. If you were going to nip this in the bud you wanted to give him a chance to talk. “If I have this conversation with you and I say no to being with you, do not pester me again okay ?”

“I can’t promise that,”Harry says causing a groan to erupt from your mouth, “Just talk to me.” You take a breathe before obliging.

“I like you too, but my list of what-ifs are very important to me.”

“So enlighten me.”

“Well what-if we don’t work out ?-“

“We will,” Harry replies all to quickly, no doubt detected in his voice,” but if we don’t please hold off on telling me ‘I told you so’.”

“Welp that wasn’t reassuring at all, Styles.” You say as you chuckle. You watch him get up from his seated position and smile down at you.” That’s because I’m not from the future, but when you bunk with Styles,” Harry leans in to place a kiss on your cheek,” I’ll guarantee it will be for awhile.” Your smile brightens and his follows.

“I’m making you smile is that a good sign ?” Harry asks, using his thumb to trace your lips. “I’m scared.” You say lowly to which Harry mouths an ‘I know’. Harry wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you were uncertain about this shift in direction of his and your relationship, however he wasn’t going to let up because he knew why you didn’t want to partake in a relationship with him.

“I’m scared that we won’t get married or have kids-“

“So you started planning beforehand ?-“

“Shut up,” Harry continues as he smirks,” or even just enjoy a few years before those things happen, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t risk it, bug. I want to hold you and not just on days where you feel alone or sad, but days I just want to hold you. I want to kiss your lips and every inch of that pretty little face of yours and tell you everyday how much you mean to me.”

“And on days you don’t want too do that ?” You ask as you began to feel overwhelmed with emotion. Your eyes get watery again and your heart beat quickens. Harry wipes the tears before they fall.

“I’ll do it anyway and if I don’t or I do something wrong I want you to tell me. I want you to tell me if I’m being a jerk or an ass or if I just pissed you off. I take criticism very well.” You stifle a laugh.

“No, you don’t.” You say and Harry gives you an amusing look. “ I do so ,y/l/n.” Harry replies to which you shake your head. You remember a time where this art teacher you both had assigned a project which instructed you, Harry and your peers too draw a portrait of a person among the class. Harry picked me as said person to draw, however the person on the paper looked nothing like me and our teacher was sure to point that out. Harry just let that go after so many years. You blink just a few times before Harry moves on with a ‘fine’ and goes on about the task at hand.

“ A penny for more of your thoughts ?” Harry asks. “ What if we don’t work out and stop being friends ?” Your breathe is shaky as this question comes out of your mouth. You are scared of losing him in anyway shape or form and Harry senses that, his playfulness gone as he allows you to set the tone. He drags you over to your bed and sits down beside you as his thumb caresses the back of your hand. “ Then we don’t,” you interrupt him with a sigh dripping in disappointment,”But look I just want to enjoy you while you enjoy me. I want to sit and watch movies with you all day, go on cute dates maybe even pick out a few outfits for you to wear on them. I want you to love yourself while I love myself while we work on loving each other. No expectations, no talks of the future. I want you here with me right now.” He places your hand against his lips. “Okay ?” Harry asks, but you pause taking in everything before you respond.

You’ve always wanted to say yes and just live in the moment, but you knew you couldn’t because that just wasn’t you, however that was Harry. He balanced you out and made you feel comfortable, stop you from overthinking and has made everything that has mentally held you back no longer do that anymore. It is going to take time to adjust, but you nod your head slowly, confirming that you understand. You don’t want to give up this opportunity and you aren’t going too. As your nodding that shit eating grin takes over his once neutral expression. You return the smile with a small one, one of slight caution, but excitement of how this will go.

“So ask me.” You say to which Harry improves his posture and takes a deep breathe.” Will you, y/n y/l/n, be my girlfriend ?” Harry stares at you in such awe. “Yes, Harry Styles, I do.” You say and in one swift move Harry is picking you up and expelling words of joy all at the same time. You squeal in his arms and wrap yours around him. The moment is over once he puts you down to take in your face, feeling of adoration overcoming both of you, but the look on your face fails to hide your uncertainty.

“I don’t like change, Harold.”

“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.” You pull Harry into an embrace and silently hope for the best.

[the-sun--will--rise]

Content warning: suicide, self harm, hospitalization

This is just me venting you really don’t have to read but at this point this is my diary haha 

Oh you know what time of year it iiissss

Ok this is not the time to be excited i just dont know how to be serious

It’s October 20 so you know what this is about (except no one does because im not sure i wrote anything last year and it used to be April 15) anyway, its been 2 years since “the incident” otherwise know as when i tried to kill myself and then three days later dropped off the face of the earth and told no one.

I really really hate that this is something in writing, but also I really want to, i like being able to look back at these and see where I was at and it gives me a place to reflect, honestly I should just put this in a journal or something but its a bit of a tradition at this point, and i type faster than I can write so I can get my thoughts out quicker this way. I was really hoping that April 2020 i would be able to say that I had gone 5 years and that this wasn’t something i needed to think about anymore (because on the 4 year one i said that, that i wasn’t sure if thinking about it every year was helpful anymore) but here we are 2 years again (and 6 so that’s fun im old).

I have a lot to say, a LOT has changed, big one pandemic. It feels weird because now it almost feels like everything before the pandemic is really far away and sometimes I can’t really think about living like that, not that my life is so so different (thankfully) but just a lot of little things and I think just everything happening all at once and then being home for a year and being so scared all the time is really weird. I’m not super good at remembering things or being able to put myself in my past selfs place anyway if that even makes sense, so its strange to think back on things from before the pandemic, when I was in undergrad and all that.

Updates: I moved to England, this is the fourth city I’ve lived in in four years and the third continent so that’s fun and honestly what i wanted for a long time, so with that im really happy, and I’m in grad school which was something i never reallly thought about until college, but im happy to be here, even if school is hard and stressful and lonely sometimes, I’m studying things I really enjoy and i really like being in school, i know that makes me kind of a loser or whatever but I just really like writing and studying so im having a good time.

I think (and change of tone here) the hardest part of thinking back and reflecting on the past two years is feeling like all the bad things that happened to me are a result of what i did then and that i could have prevented everything and not knowing how much was inevitable and how much i could have prevented. Like could i have prevented the migraines if I hadn’t taken as much of what i did as i did, if it hadn’t been for being on all those medications that i never wanted to be on and never helped? Would i have gotten celiac if I hadn’t been so nauseous from the migraines which led to an eating disorder, if i had just not gotten it would it never have happened? Because as grateful as i am that my life is going so well and that i get to be back in school and everything, things are harder now, its harder to study because im in pain so often, there’s no much I can’t eat and im so afraid that i wont be able to go to china next year because i wont be able to avoid gluten on top of all the other things I can’t eat. I’m just so scared that i made the rest of my life worse and it just feels like i never should have asked for help that i would have been better off if id just kept it to myself. I know realistically that it was only going to get worse if id already attempted twice at that point i was going to try again and maybe it would have been even worse, and i know that it wasn’t the right move to make me go to the hospital within 30 minutes of meeting me the school counselors should not have gone to such extremes so fast and i was told that they wouldn’t keep me and i was told that it would help and that people cared and they didn’t they didn’t help, there was no therapy, they made me take anti-depressants without even knowing if i had depression, they wouldn’t let me take my regular medicine, they just had everyone sit in a room all day and do nothing and there was no privacy and no one asked what was wrong or tried to help you get better, they just wanted you to stay (so they could make money?). I know i was failed and I know that the mental health system in general fails people and it fails people a lot worse than it did me, but i still blame myself. I also feel so guilty for what i put everyone else through so i feel like I shouldn’t get to complain (but im going to anyway because this is me venting) but I just didn’t say anything

and when R said that when she got my one text (i was told id be able to talk to people properly, another lie) and i said i was in the hospital that she suspected that’s what had happened, even if I didn’t say why i was there. I just wonder how long they knew something was wrong and if they were worried for a long time because i know i was a mess for week, i kept having panic attacks and I wasn’t eating and i was drinking too much and they asked if i was self harming still so i know they saw and im so sorry to them i thought i was hiding it better and i never wanted to put them through all that and i think sometimes if i had killed myself what would they have thought and then i just disappeared and they didn’t know where id gone and they told my parents and they had police involved and everything im just so sorry that i worried everyone and i hope they dont still think about it.

I spent weeks afterwards afraid to sleep because i was afraid id wake up there again and I couldn’t eat certain food because the smell would take me back and i was so anxious anytime anything reminded me of it its so stupid its not like anyone hurt me i was in a room for four days, it wasn’t that big a deal but i think it was all just so sudden and so not what i was expecting i thought at least now ill get help now i wont have to hurt anymore but all it did was make everything so much worse and no one will talk about it, my parents acted all weird and evasive and i made my dad cry, which he never does

I hate that i hurt people and i dont know how to make it better and i dont want to make things about me, especially when i think for a while after they were worried about me, especially when i was having a really bad time after and i was freaking out and not eating and the weird hallucinations like i know it was worrying to people and i freaked them out and it shouldn’t have been about me, i should have been there for them and i should never have hurt them but I can’t undo it and i dont want to bring it up 

i was just going through my calendar from 2019 because i wanted to see if id even gotten the right day (i had) and its so wild how much time has passed ALSO i have things in my calendar that i never went to and that’s really weird, like i have all the dates for tech for the show i was supposed to be doing the lighting for, which I never went to (obviously) and they didn’t want to me have anything to do with it even when i got back (which to be fair was half way through tech week, though they were always very well support you no matter what mental health is important, until it’s inconvenient, but oh well)

Anyway, i feel weird, like my chest feels weird thinking about that time, it was so  fucking scary and it seems so far away but i know it still affects me and i dont know how to make it stop

And now i see so many people on TikTok (so not a representative sample but whatever) talking about wanting a “grippy sock vacation” and things like that and even just typing that makes me so anxious i kind of feel like crying. I think its just so weird to me that people would want that or that they thought it was helpful and would want to go again because that was so completely not my experience. Not to get myself in trouble again, but if someone even suggested that to me (notice that I can’t even say the words :p) i would just run and not stop im serious i will never ever go through that again

I dont have any trust in getting better or getting help anymore and i know that’s not super healthy but im so afraid and I’ve had so many therapists (though a lot of them through apps) who were so completely unhelpful and some that made things worse that i kind of dont want to put myself through all that again, even if i know it would help to talk about things. I dont want to be a burden to people 

I know im not doing that well and the second i stop being busy all the time and actually think about things I’ll regret it but right now im busy and distracted so im doing ok. On one hand i know its going to get that bad again because it always does, but on the other hand i spent the last year of the precipice of it being that bad and it never really was and im determined to not let it get that bad while in in school so maybe it wont be i dont know i really hope it doesnt. I just know that what im doing right now isn’t healthy and the amount that i feel completely different around different people and the amount that im not aware of things going on around me (like how much time has passed or how im forgetting things as soon as they happen) isn’t healthy, its been going on for over two years and i dont really know how to fix it or what to do. 

I tried to make an appointment with the student counseling services (because that was such a great idea last time) but they said they dont have availabilities so basically just wait which i get but also right now i think a lot of people are going to need help so maybe get more people? I know they can afford it

So I’ve written a novel and i honestly dont even remember what i wrote so imma end it here, i have hope- there are times when im really happy but im also worried that none of this is sustainable and im keeping myself busy and distracted so i dont have to deal with anything and something is going to snap soon- also i need to be more present in my own life otherwise im going to miss something important (please dont let that be an omen jeez)

[hgrantlive]

The ABUSE of Power

Welcome once again ladies and gents, happy to have you here with me and enjoying the posts and liking and also sharingmy content, i thank you very much.  So this is blog number three and what i would like to talk about in this here blog is the abuse of power by Jamaican Police.  It is no secret that in the country of Jamaica police officers have been constantly being videoed or caught abusing their power, whther it be on the news, or someones social media page, and to me that calls for an issue of concern.  Though it is an ongoing situation most times not every “blind eye” doesn’t see and as such some instances in which these incidents happen it is reported an the officer/s are apprehended and charged.  

Before we get into it i want to address what abuse of power means to me.  Abuse of power in a sense is plainly someone who has “authority” committing an unlawful act, done/carried out in an official capacity, which in turn affects the execution of their offical duties.  There is no doubt that around the world police officers are people who may at times abuse their power because pf thier authority or because they wear a badge or is backed by the blue.  In Jamaica there is no doubt that it isnt prominent, police brutality and abuse that is.  Because they were put in place to basically protect and serve, some often do present themselves as peole who are above the law and can do whatever and whenevr or wherever to get and do what they want.  For some people reading this, it might be a difficult topic to read or come across, but the facts are that between the year 05′ and 2013 police officers have killed up to 200+ individuals, according to crime statistics i have received.  It is so, that 8% of all murders in the year 2915 were from killings done by the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF). Where are the red flags? where are the investigations?  Yes i am aware of the fact that police officers work in very dangerpus and harsh environments i should know i had famiy members deeply rooted and embeded into the force.  They deal with harsh criminals with probably just as much fire power as they do.  However, there is always a down side to every situation and thats the wounding and killing of innocent people. Mark you, police officers are trained to be quik thinkers, and to avoid innocent lives at all costs, which shouldnt hinder them from displaying empathy and care amongst innocent lives.  Based on a face to face survey i did a year back, many officers brought to my attention that they were trained to kill and get results rather than serve and protect.  Now, you as the reader and yes im putting you on the spot. THink to yourself hpw does that make you feel? 

The worst thing about this egregious misuse of power is that after innocent blood has been splattered (not literally splattered) family members receive little to no assistance from the state or the jamaican government in pursuit of their gain for jusitce, we see it on the news.  Isn’t that something?

Abuse of authority is a risk to security and the nation. In 2015 i can recall that close to about 100 officers were implicated and were basically asked to leave with the probability of little to no pay.  Was there an investigation probed into the matter? Was justice received or given to those who suffered and lost? I say no because at little to no chance willl our governement take responsibility and held liable for any misconduct caused by thier workers. Then again our government is the root to these actions. 

I’d like to bring up a story that i found in the gleaner about this lady Shackelia Jackson, sister if Nakiea Jackson, a 29 -year o;d restaurant owner ad former gleaner employee killed in 2014 by the police. She exclaimed “we need to accept that no one wins” when we so vehemently oppose campaigning surrounding police killings. This expert brought forth that the experience of someone who has been harmed by the devastating effects of police brutality and abuse in jamaica.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: scouting dilemma 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.7k words

𝐚𝐧: guess who was inspired by the 2020 gem heist? wrote a dumb little thing dedicated to all my fallen comrades bc juza won’t come home to them after the reset- sorry to the requests I have yet to fulfill! year 2 ages btw~

This was the moment you’ve been waiting for. You managed to save up a massive amount of gems, waiting to be spent on a banner with your best boy in it. For months, your fingers itched to pull but you were loyal (with a few caving exceptions) to the character who got you into the game in the first place.

When the developers finally announced a banner with him in it, an SSR of best boy in a summer outfit no less, it was as if fate decided to tell you now was the moment to splurge strike.

9:58 pm.

Staring at your phone screen, you made sure everything was prepared before you could summon. You decided to do your first pull at 10 pm (his favourite number was 10), and surrounded your phone with a summon circle made entirely out of candies still in their wrappers.

9:59 pm.

You sent your prayers to the gacha gods, counting down the seconds until the clock struck-

10:00 pm.

With a shriek, you nearly ruined your summon circle formation of sweets as you scrambled to your phone, clicking the bright, shiny button that had tempted you endlessly.

“Yes, I’m sure I want to spend! Come home, come home, come home…” you chanted, unable to decide whether you should close your eyes until the final results or keep them wide open.

Choosing the latter, you gritted your teeth at the sequence of cards arriving.

R, Event R, R, R, Dupe SR, R, R, R, R, Event SR.

Suppressing the scream that wanted to escape your throat, you tried to laugh it off. At least you got two of the event cards…? Maybe it would have been better to wait until 10:10 pm?

An SNS notification popped up at the top of your screen, and from the little summary, you could tell you were gonna get upset at the contents. Checking the chat, your mutual quickly followed up her message with a screencap of your best boy. Coming home to her.

You quickly sent your response before promptly returning to the game, ‘asdfghjkl im happy for u but like also muting u rn :’< brb soon hopefully yeet need to retrieve my boi from the game’s clutches cya’

Despite your initial optimism, as the pulls kept going, the lower your gem count, the worse your mood became.

Should… should you stop right now? Banner really said no rights to best boy, huh? Sure you were able to fully merge a bunch of SRs and even the event R and SR cards, but not once did he come home? Even his sworn rival’s initial SSR came home if only to spite you or him or both.

Mentally exhausted, you decided to sleep. Maybe your luck would be better tomorrow?

When you walked into the room with a frown visible on your face, Juza immediately knew something was wrong.

From even before he got together with you, he was always sensitive to the different expressions you made, and by association your emotions— to the little smile on your face as you ate desserts together or the eyebrow furrow-pout combo you did when the professor said something you didn’t agree with. He’d never say how fun it was, seeing the different faces you’d make.

However, while those were cute, this just made him worry.

He’d really rather not fight anyone, but if he has to beat up someone…

Juza found himself distracted during class, unable to stop himself from constantly looking at you every few minutes. With a faint peach staining his cheeks, he slipped his hand underneath the desk to grasp your own.

“… you okay?” he said, voice low and quiet as to not catch anyone else’s attention. The look on your face turns a little softer, even throwing him a quick smile but he knows you well enough to spot the traces of sadness still present.

You don’t reply, squeezing his hand back as you finally tried to pay attention to the professor.

He sighed, slowly releasing your hand from beneath the table. He’ll find a way to make you feel better later, but for now, he had to take notes— for the both of you, it looked.

It’s not every day that Juza does most of the talking, but that just so happened to be the case today. He’s getting restless, stuck between actively wanting to help you out with whatever you needed or just sticking by you and letting you overcome whatever’s troubling you on your own.

You’ll talk when you want to, he knew that, but even still he wanted to be more useful to you. Do you want him to just keep talking to help you take your mind off things? Do you want to rant to him so he can listen? Do you want him to get you something? He’s not the best at giving advice, but if you needed it he’d do his best.

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re responding to him, but your mind is all the way elsewhere.

The next thing he knew, he’s getting a spoonful of his frozen dessert and pressing it against your lips.

You get startled from your thoughts when a sudden icy temperature meets your mouth. You opened your mouth, cringing slightly at the cool before finally enjoying the shaved ice dessert.

While it wasn’t uncommon for Juza to let you taste the food he ate and vice versa, he was usually more reserved, too shy to feed you in public.

‘He must have been worried,’ you thought to yourself if he had to do that just to catch your attention. You immediately shifted your thoughts from the game to Juza, already about to apologise for troubling him before he interrupted you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and even though he had a scowl on his face, he looked at you with tight and worried eyes.

He knew you played games on your phone, but it was still a bit embarrassing to admit that you were upset for such a long duration because of your best boy not coming home. However, Juza deserved to know, so you pushed away your hesitance before explaining the whole fiasco to him.

Juza doesn’t get it entirely. He’s bordering between relief and confusion— on one hand, at least no one wanted to hurt you or fight you or anything; on the other hand, a 2D guy got you upset?

The concept isn’t completely foreign to him, what with Itaru-san and even Settsu constantly gaming, but usually it was his roommate being irritating and gloating while the salaryman got frustrated, eventually passing his phone to Sakuya.

He’s honestly shell-shocked that you’re upset, so even though he doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal he’ll do what he can to make you feel better. He’s not the best at comforting people, he can never find the right words… but he’s good at listening.

He placed his hand on top of yours, grateful you don’t point it out verbally or he might actually combust. He can only hope the two of you are seated secluded enough that no one comes by.

Something’s starting to bother him though. The more he listens to you, the more he’s conflicted— if you’re dedicating that much of your… gems (?) to this guy he gets why you’re upset. Another part of him wonders what’s so great about this specific guy.

He’s not upset nor is he jealous, he’s just… figuring out what specific traits you like in this guy. For future reference. Who knew, maybe he’d get to play a role similar to the character you like so much?

“Why do you like him so much, anyway?” He asked, staring intently at you.

Your attitude quickly changed from being upset to being excited to talk about your favourite character.

“He’s just so kind and thoughtful! A total gap moe, you wouldn’t expect him to be so family-oriented because of his appearance but he totally is!” you began, barely catching a break to breathe before continuing on, “plus he didn’t start off as the strongest? But he’s constantly trying his best you just want to root for him and care for him?”

Unexpectedly, Juza finds himself a little flustered, though he’s unsure of why when you’re only describing a character. Perhaps it was the look on your face while you talked?

“Plus, he looks a lot like you! Obviously, I need him to come home, right?” you exclaimed, hitting him straight in the heart with your crinkled eyes and a beautiful smile.

The hand that was comforting you a while ago and gently rubbing patterns onto your skin stilled. You noticed right away, hoping you didn’t say anything too weird during your rant.

“Juza?”

He’s silent for a while, unsure of what to do and ultimately deciding to say the first thing that popped up in his head.

“… then why’d you need him to come home if I’m already-“

When he heard you squeal he stopped himself from continuing whatever he was going to say. Did you hear him? Dumb question, of course, you did!

You covered your face with your hands, unsuccessfully hiding the strawberry red colouring your face, and screamed internally. You can’t see how Juza is reacting but you just heard a bang on the table?

‘Juza? Who told you to- istg I’ll have you arrested for-‘

After a few moments, you’re the one who ultimately breaks the silence, knowing neither of you had enough will to point out the warm flecks that still remained on both of your faces.

“We should get going. Our class is all the way in another building,” you said, slowly standing up from your seat.

“… ‘kay.”

You’re not holding hands while walking, but if he noticed the frequency of your hand grazing his he doesn’t let you know.

Reaching the midpoint between your classroom and his, you turn to face him before splitting off in the hallway. You look to see if the coast was clear, and to Juza’s surprise, you enveloped him into a warm embrace, quick but heartfelt. Neither of you saw each other’s expressions, but Juza wondered if your heart raced just as fast as his did.

“Thank you for making me feel better… I love you,” you whisper the last part, before untangling yourself from him and speed walking away to your classroom. You miss the way Juza looks back at you, body frozen but face a mixture of shock and longing and love.

want to order again?

[omegafrisk]

omegafrisk is om-over-frisk, apologies, and unreleased stuff

i want to preface this by saying that every time i admit to a mistake i get people trying to minimise it. if you’re getting ready to do that, please don’t. it makes me feel terrible. even if you don’t agree with how i feel, i violated my own morals, and that means a lot to me!

so, omegafrisk is definitely over. it’s partially that i was in a bad bad place when i started this comic and it’s always gonna be tied to that for me, partially that i’ve just become a much better writer since then and i’d have to reboot the whole thing to be satisfied with it, and partially just that i’m not into undertale enough to make a whole comic anymore.

and speaking of being in a bad place: letting that bleed through into my writing is what i want to apologise for. i’ve come to realise i was a victim of grooming when i started this comic (and as i continued to write it). it messed me up, and i wrote messed up stuff because i just didn’t know better. the child gore, the flippant use of suicide, the extremely inappropriate jokes about kids, probably other stuff i don’t remember - it all disgusts me now. i’m so sorry i put that out into the world and that it took me so long to address it.

i thought about password protecting this blog and shutting it down altogether, but i’ve decided i won’t do that. after wrestling with tumblr a bit i think i’ve deleted  the worst stuff, but if you think there’s anything else i should get rid of please bring it to my attention through IM, or through the submit box if you’re shy (you can submit anonymously if you log out).

again, don’t defend me. if you don’t agree keep it to yourself. i will block you if you try to minimise this.

heavy stuff out of the way, onto the content, which i’m sure most of you are much more interested in.

ABOUT THE STORY

i thought about releasing my entire plot outline, but... it sucks. that thing predates mad mew mew. it’s terrible. there’s barely even any detail. whatever you’ve come up with yourself is more interesting.

i do have plenty of stuff to share though! this summary got long as hell, so the rest is going under a cut.

since it’s so long, i’ll put the one thing i am mostly happy with here (obviously sui/child death implications):

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1modE5IQiwNIwRPHBBkwADAEbPttbpIzJBWFaBZlvYHY/edit?usp=sharing

this is the script for an ask i was planning for ages. first written in 2016 apparently?? with the help of the fantastic emouse. it’s a look on what was going on in the original timeline while frisk and chara were off gallivanting through spacetime.

the one thing i’m not pleased with is i don’t think it’s totally ic for flowey to start resetting again. i left it in though ‘cause i don’t feel like updating it.

another thing i’ll leave you is the playlist of instrumental themes i collected for chara and frisk, which i don’t think i ever released. this must also be from about 2016.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVSr-S6q61wCF5IFuBO2Ipl0Nb-u3r4xo

it starts out with frisk’s themes, life/universe and high score are shared themes, and after that chara’s themes begin.

summaries of the rest of the event and the ending under the cut!

A WRINKLE IN TIME

i can at least summarise the rest of the event i had planned. mettaton was about to turn the tables on everyone by having a camera crew burst through the ceiling (which were gonna be some people’s cameo’d ocs). he’d broadcast the debate over who got the soul live to try and bully everyone into giving him it. he had some fair points - he’s the only one of them that’s literally indestructible (at least to monsters and small children) - but both asgore and undyne were determined that they would be the ones to take it.

flowey would then pop up with his own plan. he’d kill everyone in the room except for charadyne (and mettaton just because, again, indestructible to magic). it would’ve been a cool little animation that scrolled past everyone’s shocked faces as bullets appeared behind them with that jarring sound effect they have in game, then cut to black with a cacophony of them all turning to dust.

this was all to force charadyne to load their save. he thought they’d be able to load to before undyne absorbed chara’s soul, which would be impossible as that moment would’ve been undyne’s first save point. (i’m only now realising the hole in this - surely he would’ve known that after his fusion with chara? but wait, he didn’t know about resets until he was revived, can beasts just not save? fucking undertale man)

regardless, chara and undyne would try to reset to, in chara’s words, “the last time you were... filled with... determination”. i wanted to do an animatic to half of [this song]. sweet chimes as undyne rifles back through her memories for that moment, building up to her getting ready - a blast of sound as it rips the timeline to shreds.

chara’s soul is so fragmented, only exacerbated by being in a foreign timeline, that they can’t reset properly. i was thinking of styling the catastrophic glitch that resulted after an undertale corruption because those things scare the shit out of me and also can be fucking hilarious. love me some comedic horror.

chara and undyne would eventually figure out they had to leave the timeline and manually straighten it out. because it was knotted. it was wr. there was a wrinkle. in the timeline. a wrinkle in time. because the event is called. it’s c. a wrinkle in time

that’s where i was hazy on details - you can see just how much was made up as i went along. somehow, they’d be separated, and undyne would have left enough dt in chara’s soul that they’d be able to go down to the human village and yoink some souls from the mausoleum there. (i had worldbuilding stuff around that - the soul jars used in the underground are based off what humans use for burial in general. burying your body in a grave = having your soul stored in a mausoleum. there’d also be equivalents to cremation and such)

i hadn’t really thought much about that - the actual idea was that chara would find their old house and we’d get a flashback sequence about their backstory (eugh, glad i didn’t get around to that). and then, idk, the mausoleum would be empty or something? i didn’t think about what might happen if they were actually able to get all those souls. that is to say, i didn’t think about the story implications - i totally thought about chara becoming a cool shapeshifting rainbow beast because i’m like that.

THE ENDING

rest assured there was gonna be a happy ending. chara and frisk were gonna have a big cool battle bursting through various timelines where frisk tried to talk chara down and chara tried to kick frisk’s ass. at the end, frisk would’ve given up and let chara kill them. but chara wouldn’t have been able to. as viciously as they attacked, they could only do a single point of damage - they and frisk are both made of magic now, and magic works on emotion, and chara cannot truly hate frisk enough to end their life.

so they would’ve made up, broken the barrier in their original timeline together, and lived happily ever after with no more resets.

i remember daydreaming an animatic of the two of them trying to break the barrier, stumbling a few times and gradually achieving synchrony, to [this song].

you might notice i don’t mention flowey here. i was kind of struggling to figure out what to do with everyone else in regards to like, actual methods of character development. i had some ideas about chara bringing wrinkle-in-time flowey along with them on their adventures and him somehow getting his memories spliced with og-timeline flowey’s near the end but didn’t really think them through.

here’s a shittily-sketched old concept of what i might’ve done with him though:

not exactly my most beautiful work but it’s all you’re getting. it’s just visual notes, so i didn’t think it through much.

i daydreamed a lot about a cute ending animatic to [this song]. i don’t remember my thoughts well enough to summarise, but i hope you can come up with something cute yourselves!

aaand that’s all for this post. thanks for reading!

[greenishbucket]

good vibez only

Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight gets delayed.

nursey/dex, tindering in an airport au, 1.6k. For @ellienchanted! thanks for the help with this and happy new year :D on ao3

Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight back to New York gets delayed. What else is he going to do? Read a book? Talk to the people around him? Not likely.

And like, he’s just maybe been feeling slightly more desperately alone than usual, after the holiday period spent with family. His parents were his parents and even his shithead brother had been lovey-dovey with his admittedly very nice girlfriend, not to even mention the bloodbath that was social media.

It’s only midday on New Year’s Eve, but Dex can sense in his old-man bones that it’s already ramping back up again after a few days of quiet after Christmas. Picturesque, loving content as far as a guy can scroll, most likely.

Not that Dex is bitter. He has friends, has love in his life and shit. He’s on his way home to show his face at Ford's party, after all. Except the plan is to prove he didn’t die en route, get smashed as efficiently as possible, then probably get kissed platonically by six people at midnight because his friends are like that, before ultimately heading home alone and passing out alone.

Dex is, in short, just acutely fucking aware of his singleness right now.

In the heart sense and in the dick sense, unfortunately. Whatever. He’s got a few boring hours stretching ahead of him; even if he doesn’t match with or message any of the many dudes he can swipe through, at least a good twenty percent of them are hot enough to pause for a whole second.

One guy, after some fifteen minutes of mindless, semi-horny swiping, warrants more time than that.

He has a tattoo. It wraps around his very nice bicep and Dex’s mouth goes dry. His name is Derek, and he has a couple shirtless pics, a hockey one, a few ones Dex figures are trying to convey culture – museums and art and like, sweeping landscapes – and ends it with a meme.

Which is like. It’s kind of funny, and this dude is super hot, but really? But also he is so, so hot. In like, a hot way, and in a beautiful way, so Dex can at least entertain the idea of their boning. Then Dex reads Derek’s bio:

‘what i want is what i’ve always wanted. what i want is to be changed.’ im pretty and my meat is huge. good vibez only, no haters ✌️

Dex doesn’t smile a little. He doesn’t. He definitely just rolls his eyes hard and swipes left. That quote. He doesn’t have the patience, not even for someone that looks like that.

“Ouch,” says a voice from over his shoulder. “Hard no for that one?”

Because of course, because his flight is delayed and the drive to the airport had been shit anyway, because of course – it’s the dude. He’s not just nearby, he’s literally right there. Derek. Sitting in the row of seats backed up against Dex’s, twisted round to watch over Dex’s shoulder in a flagrant disregard of like, normal fucking behaviour, and somehow even hotter in the gross airport lighting. He’s doing some kind of smirk thing that Dex isn’t into at all.

His voice is like– It’s nice. Dude has a nice voice.

And of course, instinctively, result of being a grumpy fuck since birth and years in the big city, Dex’s immediate response is, “Fuck off, asshole.” Then, back up instinct, result of his mom’s loving care and years in a small town, he adds, “Shit, sorry, that was- I didn’t mean- um.”

Derek’s smirk solidifies. Something natural rather than an expression he’s holding there, not that Dex would’ve recognised it wasn’t completely assured and legit until then. “No worries, man. It’s chill. Sexy pic with the lobster, though.”

-

Nursey absolutely, completely, fucking two thousand percent should not have said anything. He’d almost be surprised at himself, watching this whole thing happen out of body, except this is the least surprising behaviour from him ever. Like he’s ever been able to let a minor hurt pass without poking at it until it’s something unbearable and he has to nope out like that’d been his plan all along.

Whatever. It’s chill. He’s got this. They’re in an airport, so Nursey can nope out whenever he likes, and more effectively than usual. It’s going to be fun.

“Excuse me?” says Will.

Will, who Nursey had first noticed for his massive ears and exhausted vibes, then absently clocked as attractive, and then clocked some minutes later as the same dude whose profile he’d just come across. Will who Nursey had just swiped right on, though not before screencapping his profile and sending it to Chowder, captioned ‘a straight???’

Like. Okay. Nursey doesn’t want to stereotype, or whatever, tries really hard not to, but when a dude sees a bio like I'm Will. I like hockey and lobster-fishing and good beer. We should get to know each other? He's not proud of it but questions start arising.

“Sexy pic with the lobster,” Nursey repeats. It had been, honestly, in a kind of weird display-of-masculinity way that Nursey doesn’t want to unpack right then but definitely would with some weed.

“Thank you?” says Will. A pause. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” Nursey replies honestly. But that feels like some kind of defeat, because this guy is cute and freckly and like, certainly has hands, but he also just dismissed Nursey’s careful construction of self while Nursey watched, so he continues, “I mean, I’m a vegetarian? So I kind of do disagree with the concept of trapping and killing an innocent animal for your own consumption, or whatever.”

Will snorts. “Of course.”

Nursey’s stomach sinks. He should’ve known. Pretty eyes or not, it wasn’t going to be fun with a guy who is a self-proclaimed hockey and good beer fan. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” says Will.

Nursey doesn’t want to get into a full-blown argument in the middle of an airport, so he lets it drop. But he also doesn’t want to sit here in awkward silence or have to get up and haul all his shit over to somewhere else. “So, while we're both sitting here, any pointers for improvement?” he asks instead.

“What?”

“For my profile, dude. Gotta up my game, clearly.”

"Why?"

"Self-improvement is my new year's resolution," Nursey replies easily, only half-lying; it's been his new year's resolution for like, five years straight, whatever. "I'll start: you need a better bio, or just scrap the whole thing. You're just about cute enough to pull it off, but it does you zero favours, dude. Bland as fuck."

Will goes pale, then red, then says, "What the fuck? Who asked?" Nursey waits, unsure if he should keep pushing or if he's maybe crossed a line, and after a long moment or two Will sighs. “Okay, fine, I hate doing description things and I'm shit at it. But yours also sucks. You could try with less of the pretentious quote shit, for one thing.”

“Less Mary Szybist?” Nursey asks, only having to up his aghastness a little. “Mine does not suck. I’m trying to convey an inner sensitivity, bro. Poetry is a window to the soul.”

Will frowns. “I thought that was eyes.”

His frown is cute. Shit. “First, a little thing called poetic license? Second, you said I was pretentious.”

“It’s Shakespeare,” Will says, unimpressed. “You didn’t do Shakespeare in high school?”

“Sure,” Nursey agrees, “but clearly it didn’t stick,” which is a lie. “Haiku, though. That’s the good shit.”

“What?”

“In my bio. It’s a haiku, five-seven-five syllables?”

Will visibly goes through Nursey’s bio, mouthing out the words, which, hey. It left an impression, at least. “That’s not five-seven-five,” he says.

“I’m pretty and my / meat is huge. Chill vibez only / no haters. Peace sign,” Nursey recites easily, clapping the syllables out like they taught in elementary school.

Will snorts out a laugh and can’t quite seem to reign his face back into looking unimpressed. Nursey smiles back and can’t quite reign that in either. The bitterness from watching Will swipe past him seeps almost entirely away at last, Nursey finally able to unfold his arm from around his stomach; Will’s shoulders come down from around his ears, too.

“Um. I did actually like your photos,” he says after a moment, almost hesitant, those same ears flaming. “Like, a lot."

"Ditto," says Nursey, as casual as he can. Will is pretty great in pics, if unfortunately blind to his angles, and even better plus assholeish irl, which is a beauty of a combination.

"But you’re cheating your syllables with that peace sign bit, pretty sure,” Will adds.

Nursey rolls his eyes, ignores the warm glow. Not a straight, definitely. And Will thinks his pics are good, at least, which is a success of sorts. He doesn't know what flight Will is getting, but his own back to NYC has been delayed by a few hours, so maybe he should try and shoot his shot one last time.

He chucks his stuff over to Will's side of the chair-row, then hauls himself over. Pulls his sweater back down. Fuck this twisting around in his seat nonsense.

Will blinks, face pink. "Hi," he says, a little hoarse.

“I think you mean bye. I said no haters, didn't I?”

Will laughs again, full and warm this time. “Fuck off, asshole,” he says, and this time Nursey laughs with him.