#is actually so much more painful than i thought. i just finished with colouring and semi-rendering it today and im still not done

[aria0fgold]

Was fully convince today was the 23rd but as it turns out I am at least a day or two safe from the 23rd.

[sleepyangelkami]

BLOODY NOSE s.harrington

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.6K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.

you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.

and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.

allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.

however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.

as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.

there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.

often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.

until he wasn't.

it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.

usually, this was steve's task.

he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.

even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.

the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.

"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.

honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.

steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.

unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.

"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.

"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.

holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.

"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.

you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?

you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.

finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.

steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."

he should have known not to utter those words.

almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.

bleeding?

the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.

steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.

he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.

steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"

once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.

"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.

"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."

however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.

he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.

you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.

but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?

surely, that had to count for something.

half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.

practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.

steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.

however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"

he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

[buckbuckleykinard]

here's a little snippet from a fic i probably wont ever finish but may repurpose into something else

He curls his legs into his chest and presses the warm glass of his phone screen to his ear.  With his free hand, he drags his fingers across the rough, night cold grit of the stone beneath them, just to feel the scratch against his skin.  Little grits of sand and moss lift up and stick in the whorls of his fingerprints as his phone rings once, twice, three times–

“Evan?  Are you okay”

Tommy’s voice is drowned out a little by the distant but unmistakable sound of chopper blades whirring to a stop.  It’s only 6pm in L.A. and Tommy is still on shift.

“Shit, you’re at work.  Sorry.  I forgot about the time difference.  I’m fine I–”

“It’s okay.  We just got back from a call, just give me a second to get somewhere quieter and I can talk.”

Buck considers telling him it’s fine, that he’s fine, that his crisis can wait till Tommy isn’t at the tail-end of a 24 but the problem with that is that he wants. And maybe he’s selfish and childish and all the terrible things his parents think he is but maybe Tommy wants, too.  

Because Tommy answered his call.

“Okay, I’m in the bunks now.  How are you?  How are your parents?”

“I'm good.” A lie. “My parents are fine.  How they usually are.”  The painful truth.

A semi truck speeds by, blaring its horn at nothing, headlights cutting through the dusty blue evening.

“How are they usually?”

Mean, Buck wants to say.  Careless, oblivious, belittling.  Maddie always says they’re not bad people, just bad parents, and he has always parroted it back.  He feels like he’s said it so often that it had just become true, but at the time he hadn’t been around them.  It was easier to put on some rose-coloured glasses and pretend that things were better than they actually were, or at least less painful.

“I don’t think they like me very much.” Maybe it’s too honest but he finds the more they talk, the more he wants to be honest with Tommy.  Some wicked part of him thinks that maybe if he shows this man the ugly, jealous rot of his insides, that he’ll leave before it hurts too much.  That it won’t be like Abby, who he’d thought he loved, or Taylor who he knew he did.

His parents loved Daniel, and how fucked up is it that he’s jealous of someone whose dead.  Then again, maybe they're more alike than he thought because yes, they had loved him, but they erased him too.  They scrubbed their lives clean of him, threw out his things and painted over the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.  Maybe the only difference is that Buck is still alive.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, a little probing but kind.  Buck knows that if he dropped it, if he moved on to something lighter, that Tommy would let him.

“They repainted my room”  He knows it's ridiculous as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“They didn’t tell you they were going to?”  Tommy asks, like this is a completely normal thing for an adult man to be upset about.

“No, they didn’t say anything.  They threw out all my stuff too.  Not that there was a lot there, but stil–”

“They should have at least given you the opportunity to come get what you wanted to keep.”

“Yeah, exactly!”  He says with a chuckle.  “I mean, I’m pretty sure my skateboard was still in the closet up there.  They’re not cheap, you know.”

“You skateboard?”  Tommy asks.  Buck swears that he can hear the smile in his voice.  

“I used to, sort of.  I'm pretty sure I spent more time falling off than actually riding.”

“God, you were a total punk in high school, weren’t you?”  Tommy laughs.  It’s nice, like warm honey settling low in Buck’s stomach. 

“Oh, definitely.  I think I spent most of my childhood injured in one way or another.”  It’s hard for him, looking back, to find a memory that doesn’t include bandages or a cast or a sling of some kind.

“You know, considering that the first time we met was flying a helicopter into a hurricane, I’m really not surprised to find out that you’re incredibly reckless with your own safety.”

“I had a motorcycle, too.  Got it basically as soon as I learned how to drive.”

“God, Evan.”  His voice is still tinged with amusement.  It floors him a little, how Tommy had managed to steer the conversation away from his morose family musings toward something lighter.  It makes Buck want to run through every time he’s ever almost died.  Chase away the amusement and ruin this on purpose before he does it by accident.

“Does it bother you?”

“Depends on why you're doing it.”  Tommy doesn’t ask what he means, doesn’t need to.  Buck wonders if he can smell his insecurities through the phone line.  He waits for Tommy to continue.

“Every time you go into work, you put yourself in dangerous situations to save lives.  So do I.  That’s the job.”  Buck can hear some shifting from Tommy’s end, tries to imagine him sitting on the edge of one of the bunks at the Harbour station, phone pressed against his ear.  Maybe he’s gotten more comfortable, lying down, eyes closed as he tries to get a little bit of rest between calls.  They shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone, but the thought of having to do this in person, to have to look Tommy in the eyes and ask to be soothed, sends a chill through him that's much stronger than the one caused by the rapidly cooling evening air.

Some kind of sports car speeds by, music thundering through the closed windows as it slows around the corner and disappears.

“But being reckless with your life because the only time you felt like your parents looked after you was when you were hurting?  Yeah, that bothers me.”

And there it is, The Breaking Point.  He’s found a way to push Tommy too far.  Tommy, who’d already given him far more chances than he deserved.

“I mean, I’m familiar with shitty parents, believe me, but if I made my kid feel so unloved that they thought they had to hurt themselves to get my attention, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

Huh.

That’s unexpected.

“Evan?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”  There is another beat of silence.

“Sorry, if I overstepped.  I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t.”  Buck says, definitively.  “I’ve just never really had anyone see it like that?”

“Like what?  What do you mean?”

“Like my reckless behaviour isn’t some sort of defect of my personality.  Like maybe, I was hurting, too."

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

A Moment in Time (Ino Takuma x Reader)

First time posting since I rebranded my tumblr to try and get into posting fics here, thought I'd start off with this to put myself out there cause I finished it just a couple of hours ago ) I hope y'all enjoy, Ino is just a little baby and deserves all the love

Small preface: This is set post-Shibuya, but just before Yuta reenters the picture so it does contain brief manga spoilers in the beginning in terms of character appearances. Reader's CT involves sound and emotions, it manifests as a colour-shifting blob that can be manipulated into different shapes and colours to distract, camouflage and other things. It is influenced by inner thoughts and emotions and sometimes takes the form of people she is thinking of or imitates her movements, almost like it has a mind of it's own. (However it's a very small part and only mentioned a couple of times) Also I have no idea if Shoko can actually do the things she is described to do here, so just roll with it

Warnings: blood, mention of a missing eye, shoko's healing, a lot of pain noises, lots of blood :( as happy of an ending as you can have while just coming out of shibuya, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Shibuya was a mess. So were you, and so was Yuji who has just shown up in front of you for the first time since you departed Jujutsu Tech all those hours ago. “Where’s…” You trail off, your voice raw and defeated as you look pleadingly at him standing beside a man you don’t recognise, “Yuji,” You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, “Where’s Ino?”

He shakes his head, scrunching his own face up, “Ino got hurt real bad, protecting Megumi and I,” He mumbles, angrily rubbing at his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he’s hurt real bad,”

You quickly race over, your arms pulling him into a hug and letting him hide his face against your neck despite the blood, “Shhh, Yuji, it’s not your fault,” you murmur, “Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop him from protecting you, he’s a selfish hard-headed piece of work,” Yuji’s body shakes but he makes no noise as he cries, you continue to reassure him softly, knowing what he needs right now is someone to let him know he’s alright. “If he dies-“ You cut him off before he says anything else, “Don’t make a promise like that, Yuji, Ino knew exactly what he was doing,” You bring a hand up to the back of his head and clutch his hair, letting your own tears fall, “You know he promised me he’d protect you, he promised me, not anyone else, me, as if I had a reason to believe he’d do anything different,”

“I hurt so many people,” He sobs, “Nanami is gone, Kugisaki might be too, it’s all my fault,” You push him away from his sanctuary in your arms, holding him so he’s forced to look at you, “Yuji, they’re sorcerers, they’re fucking crazy, they knew what they were doing, we all know what we’re here for and we all know the eventual price we must pay,” You move your hand from the back of his head to his cheek, “You’re worth it, Yuji, you’re so much more than just ‘Sukuna’s vessel’ to us,” The other man finally steps forwards, “She’s right,” His voice is soft, rumbling like a faraway storm, “You’re strong, brother, but that doesn’t mean you have to be strong alone,”

You nod to him in thanks as Yuji’s body stills, no longer wracked with sobs, “Since the first finger you’ve never been alone Yuji, it began with Megumi and Gojo and it will end with all of us, we may not know what it’s like, but we’re here and we care,” A few more tears slip down his face as he lets a small smile grace his lips, “Thank you Y/n,” He murmurs, “Will you stay by my side?” You nod, “I will do whatever I can for you, Yuji Itadori,” You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away the tears that fall, “Now dry your tears, we still have work to do,” He nods, “This is Choso by the way,” He gestures to the man accompanying you and you finally focus on him for a few moments.

Black hair tied up in messy pigtails, a thick black line across his nose, his clothing loose and shoes that look straight from a goth’s wardrobe, “It’s good to meet you,” You smile as you wonder where he came from, “I’m Y/n,” He nods in return, not quite meeting your eyes but it’s not something that bothers you. You can feel your cursed technique welling up beneath your skin and it seeps out, taking up a crude imitative form of Ino beside you, “Have you seen Megumi since you split up?” you ask, ignoring it. “Last I saw he was with Shoko and Principal Yaga, Ino should be there too, Sukuna sort of saved Megumi, but I don’t know why yet,” Yuji scratches the back of his head while you think for a moment, “Alright, I’ll let you guys get back to the remaining curses, I’ll see if we’re going to move the badly wounded to a safe location,”

You pull him into another quick hug, “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He nods against your shoulder, “Thanks Y/n,” He murmurs as you pat his back. “If you need me, I’m only one call away, don’t be afraid to ask for help,” You say firmly as you grip his upper arms for a moment, before letting go and darting off to where you believe Shoko and Yaga will be based on the directions you were given beforehand.

Once you’ve made your way to the building under the cover of your cursed technique, it drips away into a puddle of red and black that follows you along the ground as you desperately search for Ino. “Y/n! He’s over here!” Shoko calls from a bit further down the rows of bodies, tucked in next to a pillar. Your heart races as you run to her, her hands gently working over his body to find the sources of his pain. You stumble to your knees beside him and cup his cheeks, not caring about the blood as he grits his teeth and groans.

“Shhshhshh,” You gently hush him, stroking the hair back from his forehead, your chest aching as you try to avoid looking into his empty right eye-socket, “Everything’s gonna be ok, you’re gonna be alright,” You murmur. “Hold him,” Shoko instructs softly and you nod, shifting closer and letting him nestle his head sideways against your chest, still facing Shoko. You feel the reverse cursed energy radiating from Shoko as she pushes it into him, frowning as she looks up at his face. An agonized cry falls from his lips and his hands grip you tightly, painfully, but you ignore it and press your lips to the top of his head, “It’s ok Takuma, I’m here, I love you, I’m not leaving,” You whisper.

He struggles and shakes but you hold him tightly, his breaths coming in short wailing gasps, “Is it supposed to hurt him this much?!” You blurt to Shoko, gripped with panic. She grimaces, “I’m growing him an entirely new eye, give me a second!” She seethes. His fingernails dig so sharply into your waist and back that you feel your skin breaking, but you ignore your own pain and just rock him gently. He finally falls limp, breathing heavily and still making small groaning noises every so often, “Stay with him,” She stands, “He needs you,” You nod firmly.

The thought of leaving his side hadn’t even crossed your mind and you work to comb the fingers of one hand through his hair, gently detangling and moving it away from the blood still on his face. You pick up on his breathing pattern and duck your head, breathing loudly and slowly in his ear until he starts copying you, “That’s it, that’s it,” You praise him softly, “There you go,” He digs his fingernails in again, though not nearly as hard as before, and slumps further against you, forcing you to sit back on your butt against the pillar. He buries his face against your chest and you hold him half in your lap, legs spread either side of his waist, “Oh Takuma,” You whisper, finally allowing yourself to feel a wash of relief, “I’m so happy you’re alive,”

He moans softly against your shirt, his hands creeping up your skin at the back and just holding you, “Takuma,” You breathe. “Y/n,” He finally murmurs as he turns his head to the side slightly, his voice rough and low, mouth barely exposed. You let out a soft cry, “Takuma,” you repeat, helping him as he insistently moves up and then flops onto his butt beside you, his eye good as new but his face still covered in blood, “Oh…” you kneel in front of him and look over your shoulder, “Can someone get me a bottle of water?” You call out, but his gentle hands pull your attention, and your body, back to him. “C’mere,” He grunts, his hands moving down your body the closer you get until he tugs you by the hips and you’re forced to straddle his upper thighs.

“What did you say before doll?” He mutters, his eyes swimming with emotion, almost not quite seeing you. “I’m so happy you’re alive,” You murmur, your hands trailing up to his face, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” He shakes his head, coughing a couple of times, “No, before that,” Someone places a bottle next to your leg and you nod in thanks, looking away only briefly. “Takuma…” You murmur, leaning forward and resting your forehead to his, “I love you,”

He chuckles, his lips spreading into a smile beneath the blood, “I can’t live without you, I don’t want to live without you,” You whisper. “That’s what I needed to hear,” He lets his head rest back against the pillar and you grab the bottle, pouring a small amount of water into your palm and lifting it to his face, “Close your eyes,” You murmur, and once he’s closed them you let the water drip between your fingers onto his forehead and down over his eyelid. You use your fingertips to gently rub the blood off and then rinse his face, drying it with your coat as he opens his eyes again, “You are so pretty,” He murmurs, “And that’s not just the blood loss talking,”

His hands which haven’t deviated once from your hips pull you slightly closer, one trailing up to the back of your head as he leans closer, “Stunning,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over yours like feathers as you share breaths, “Crying for me like this,” He coos, “You’re just beautiful,” You hadn’t even realised you were crying until he mentioned it, his hands grabbing your wrists to stop you from wiping them away, “Takuma,” you whimper softly, struggling against his grip and desperate for validation, “Say it back or let me go,”

His breath fans your neck for a moment and he kisses your jaw, “I love you too,” He murmurs into your skin, “Always have, won’t let you go, I promise,” His mouth trails up to yours, satisfying the flame that roars beneath your skin as he initiates a tentative kiss, one full of love and care. You press further into him, desperately assuring yourself he’s still alive and allowing yourself to forget where you are for just a moment in time.

Thanks for giving me a chance if you got this far, I hope you enjoyed it! Most of my fics start out as self-indulgent writings but then if I'm proud I'll post them somewhere and see what people think, anyway please please feel free to request, send me prompts, anything that comes to mind!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

[revalition]

OCT 16 - PAIN THRESHOLD Shrug off the pain. They’ll have to hurt you more.

I love this guy a lot! even if he has some really questionable advice. I ended up dumping a lot of points into him in my first playthrough!

really simple drawings today, I've had a pretty bad headache all day. which you'd think would allow me to channel the pain threshold vibe better! but it really didn't. sadly the amount of love I hold for a skill doesn't necessarily correlate with how much effort I can put into drawing them (with a few exceptions lol). the one on the right was an old sketch I coloured... it was a relief I already had a halfway decent design for him haha

lots of quotes under the cut as usual!

pain threshold!!

fun fact - he does not refer to you as harry once. however he does call you: - pal - baby - son - buddy - man and none of these more than once. weirdo

PT also has the most anti-passives (passive failures) out of the skills, by a large margin. He has 31, second place has 19. He also has 3rd least passive checks.

quotes:

these two idiots!! causing mental and physical damage with their screaming... H/E coordination trying to reel it back in

<3 (this heals endurance!)

actual idiot skill

dudeee

he's so funny. he's fucking got this.

dying here

nooo

sigh

super normal.

he's a sad, sad guy

if you haven't been told yet that he has depression PT can figure it out for you!!! <3

sad PT in the final dream :(

this one too

he knows! he recognizes *fake pain*

dialogue after failing to save ruby... urgh

I really like this. 'A race to beat your own heart's pulse to some dark finish line.'

as always this is amazing.

:((( this is re: pawnshop roy

hehe

this one is always delightful. he has a sense of humour sometimes!

this whole scene was a mess, but this line in particular... I don't know, it just stuck with me. It's very vivid.

honestly, true

lol

sometimes these skills say some unhinged stuff, sheesh

poor guy, he's so sad

:(((

this one is brutal.

this guy has *issues*

ending it on this very important one!!! please look! during the last dream pain threshold tells you to pick the dialogue option that will cause her to leave and the dream to end... and volition tells you to keep dragging it on. hghh guys...

pain threshold is quite something. there are lots of instances of him telling you something painful feels good, or encourages you to do something that will hurt (both physically and emotionally). he also leads the finger on the eject button thought dialogue. My first playthrough I had FYS of 4 and I ended up dumping a ton of points in to PT cause I was fascinated by him. But I also had mega high volition cause I adored him too. they definitely did not have the same goals...

the first time I remember hearing from my personal PT, we were bowling and my wrist was really starting to hurt. and he was like, you should keep playing. thanks bro :/

anyway that's all. for tomorrow, physical instrument's design isnt super exciting to me, but I do have a bunch of good quotes picked. I can make a coach calling people a binoclard compilation...

[saintsenara]

scylla and charybdis - a snippet

severus snape/lord voldemort explicit graphic depictions of violence | major character death read here

i'm hoping to finish this chapter this week, so in the meantime have a snippet.

in which lily encounters hubris.

Above his head, a tapestry unfurled.

Leaves - wavy oak and sharp ash and fat field maple - were the threads, woven together by invisible hands into an undulating canopy. The sort of heavy, silky thing - shot through with skeins of gold - which you’d expect to see Charlton Heston or Peter O’Toole standing under while dressed as a Roman emperor, in the shit historical epics which always seemed to be on the telly at Christmas and which his dad was the only man alive who enjoyed.

Every different shade of green - the bronze of birch, like time’s tarnish on an ancient statue; the woozy chartreuse of aspen; the Lily-like emerald of alder - shifted and glittered like the image in a kaleidoscope.

It was like being in the common room on spring mornings, when the lake-light through the windows was a thousand-faceted peridot - pierced occasionally by thin slivers of champagne-colour from the world above - which bathed everything in its glow, and the thing which rattled a mile-a-minute in his chest was calm for a bit.

He’d try to wax poetic about it and Lily would tell him he sounded like a knob.

It was like that. And yet it wasn’t.

[It was like dying.]

[It was like trying desperately to breathe and not being able to, the flesh which connected his mouth to his lungs severed by Nagini’s fangs.]

[And he was choking - gagging - rasping - trying - trying to breathe and - ]

[‘I regret it.’]

[And then green.]

Severus knew full fucking well that he should have found the way the trees blocked out the sun refreshing. He was fucking baking. His hair was sodden and curling at the nape of his neck, making him look even more like a drowned rat than usual. The underarms of his t-shirt were stained with sweat, making him look even more like a poor cunt from Spinner’s End whose mother bought him his clothes third-hand from Oxfam than usual. He was forced to hold his arms rigid against his sides so nobody would see. He’d been moaning at Lily for the past fifteen minutes about how she’d better catch herself on and find him some bloody shade immediately or he was going to hex her face to her arse.

She’d just cackled, called him a wanker, and kept doing exactly what she wanted.

[But that was her fatal flaw, he supposed. She was young and fierce and full of hope.]

He’d had to develop the most smacked-arse face in history - he deployed it at exactly the moment they passed Woolies, because he knew she fancied one of the lads who worked there - just to get her to stop.

[She’d never seriously believed he could hurt her.]

[He’d realised that when a split-second bullet of pain flashed across her eyes - quickly blinked away; quickly replaced by something cool and hard and unfamiliar - when he called her a Mudblood.]

[He’d seen it and it had surprised him. After all, she took shit from pretty much everyone about hanging around with him - about what an ugly little prick he was, about how it would sap her golden beauty if she spent too long in his presence. Why should it have come as a shock that he was indeed capable of destroying her?]

[It wasn’t until later - years later, as her son charged after him and everything was in ashes and Dumbledore was dead - that he’d understood.]

[For all his sniping and muttering about loyalty to the Dark Lord and causing havoc in the classroom, Potter had never actually thought he was capable of killing a man. For all her lecturing about Mulciber and Avery and dark magic and the Death Eaters, Lily had never actually thought he was capable of becoming a threat.]

‘God, fine,’ she’d said, rolling her eyes at his whinging. Her nose was starting to burn. ‘This way.’

[How fucking ironic that Potter-the-Elder and his attack dog would be the people who changed her mind.]

She’d bunched her fingers in the sodden fabric of his shoulder (Severus turned his elbows even closer into his sides) and shepherded him through a set of wrought iron gates.

‘This the shade you were after, Sev?’

[You can’t thrice-defy the Dark Lord unless you’re enough of a sadist that he’s prepared to ask after you more than once, now, can you?]

‘This is a cemetery.’

‘Fuck me, is it? I hadn’t realised.’ She surveyed the expanse of graves which bobbed before them, like buoys in the sea, and sucked sardonically on the Zoom lolly she’d bought from an ice cream van while he’d seethed with jealousy and thought about murdering his jobless father and insisted he didn’t want anything. ‘How can you tell?’

Severus frowned at her through his curtains of hair.

(He’d been trying to tell Lily since the day they’d first met that there was a time and a place for her taking the piss, and she didn’t have to default to it in every bloody conversation they had. Not, of course, that she’d ever listened. But he’d expected that even she’d make some effort to recognise that a tent of green shade chilled by the ominous presence of the dead was neither.)

Lily was looking at him - through a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses she thought made her look like Brigitte Bardot and Petunia said made her look like Elton John - with the sort of condescending concern middle aged nurses might use on young men they think are about to top themselves. ‘Bloody hell, Sev, cheer up a bit. It might never happen.’

The sunlight - wriggling its way through the leaves - dappled her freckled cheeks and darted across her red nose.

The skin would peel later. And she would beg him to whip up a batch of Sunburn Soother in his cauldron and run it along to her. And he would, hurrying through the back lanes with it stoppered up in one the cheap glass vials his mum had to save for and which she always forgot to give back to him.

[He had made her the potion and she had kept the vial and when the Ministry had made an inventory of the house in Godric’s Hollow they’d recorded that dozens of them - dozens of fragile, breakable memories from the time Severus had been a person who’d tried to be good - had been sitting in a cardboard box in the cupboard under the stairs.]

The lolly’s viscous residue was clinging to her chin. It had rubbed off most of the shimmery lipstick she’d applied - with a solemnity he didn’t really understand - as they sat on the swings in the park.

[She was halfway between a girl and a woman.]

[She had coltish limbs and knobbly knees and she still held herself like a scarecrow. But something was beginning to bloom in her. Something intangible and immeasurable, something forever out of reach of his male grasp.]

[And she was drawing away from him.]

‘I’m not -’ Severus spluttered. ‘I’m not being miserable, Lils. I’m being solemn.’

[But he didn’t realise it at the time.]

She let out a screech of laughter. ‘Solemn? Why the fuck are you being solemn?’

‘We’re in a cemetery.’

(A listless breeze disturbed the leaves above them and a shiver ran up his spine. It took more work than he might have anticipated to repress the impulse to make the Sign of the Cross.)

‘No-o,’ she giggled, kicking a pine cone with the battered toe of a pair of jelly sandals he knew had once been Petunia’s, ‘we’re walking through a cemetery to get to the canal. It’s different.’

‘How?’

Lily sighed in a put-upon way, like they were middle-aged and married and he’d told her he’d forgotten to buy milk on his way home from work. ‘It just is, Sev. Everyone knows that. Come on’ - she grabbed his hand with sticky fingers - ‘we can cut across here -’

She stepped with great purpose - the sort of purpose only a girl of thirteen can possess - onto the mossy turf which covered some ancient grave. Severus yelped - and then flushed and folded in on himself at the stinging humiliation of screaming like a girl - as she tried to pull him after her.

Her mouth and eyebrows were curls of confusion. ‘Sev, what the fuck -’

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘I just told you? If we cut across -’

‘You’re standing on a grave.’

‘So?’ She looked, with dramatic exaggeration, up and down the path. ‘There’s nobody around, Sev. We’re not going to get in trouble.’

She grinned at him, wicked and cajoling, like she was a rebel without a cause and he was the cowardliest fucking custard in history.

(Something else mingled with his earlier embarrassment. The hot, angry feeling which always came over him when she acted like he was the sort of limp-wristed cunt who’s scared of his own shadow.)

‘That’s not what I - You mustn’t stand on graves.’

‘Oh, come off it! What’s’ - she examined the headstone - ‘Dorinda Millicent Clifton going to do about it? She died in 1891. She’s bones by now.’ She cleaned the lenses of her sunglasses on her t-shirt. ‘And she was probably a fucking bitch anyway, with a name like that… She sounds like someone who’d be friends with Tuney.’

‘I -’

‘I asked Nearly-Headless Nick about this,’ she said wisely. ‘Ghosts don’t have any connection to their former bodies. They could dig him up and behead him all over again, he wouldn’t feel a thing. And anyone who decides not to become a ghost is on the other side and doesn’t care, do they?’ She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, clearly rather proud of the point she’d made. ‘So stop being a fucking ponce and follow me.’

‘But it’s -’

‘Fucking hell, what is your problem?’

She stood, goggling at him, with her hands on her hips and the grave casting its shadow over her feet.

And Severus felt tiny under her emerald gaze, all the brighter in the green of the leaf-canopy. He wanted desperately to obey her - to not be a neek or a stick-in-the-mud or a nancy boy - and to just stride out across the bones of the dead. He wanted her to understand that he physically couldn’t. It wasn’t cowardice, it wasn’t because she was a fool to be his friend. It was because his legs literally couldn’t move.

But he couldn’t find the words to explain to her why.

[He didn’t yet understand the power of portents and prophecies.]

‘It’s bad luck,’ he croaked, looking at the ground. ‘It’ll bring you bad luck.’

‘Oh, God, really.’ She sounded terrified. Although it turned out she’d only been putting that on until he raised his head to try to reassure her, to try to chase the panic from her voice. ‘Fuck me, Sev. You’re so superstitious. Just look -’

She walked - exaggerating each step like Mr fucking Teabag - across a row of graves, until she reached the gap in the hedge she wanted them to slither through so they could walk along the canal. ‘See. ‘I am absolutely’ - she did an elaborate twirl, arms raised above her head like a ballet dancer - ‘fine.’ She cocked her head at him as he continued to stand - awkward and sweaty - on the path, separated from her by a river of subterranean decay. ‘What the fuck did you think was going to happen, you daft apeth? That I’d drop dead?’

[playertale-au]

[NOTICE] Thank you for the 300+ followers. To celebrate, bits of PLAYER!Tale AU concept( regarding Player) is shared

Reposting because Tumblr decided to post instead of saving it in drafts when I'm not even finished. Love you tumblr!  (╯ᐛ）╯︵ ┻━┻

◇◇◇◇◇

A/N: 

Oh, wow! We actually reach 300+ (as of now 310) followers!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, I’m glad all of you enjoyed the story despite my art not being that good. I actually wanted to draw for 250 followers but I didn’t realised we passed that milestone. 

Anyways! To celebrate, I wanted to share some concepts regarding the Player based on my memories, though sorry if there is like a black blotched in the drawing as that is considered as spoilers.

To start off, I began creating this AU maybe 5/6 years ago, on and off, (re-writing or removing some stuff along the way) I had loads of concept art and drawings back in 2019 but sadly those old arts were, ummm, forcedly deleted after a disagreement with someone I trusted, haha. The pain for a FT user in ibis paint. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ

Then 2023, I wanted to move forward. So I decided to give it a shot and start drawing again. I wanted to share my AU (better late than ever),＼＼\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／ and also I thought it will help overcome my fear of drawing and start liking to draw again.

Anyway, here we have Player’s design concept (+ explanation):

Version 1:

Player actually does not inhibit Frisk’s body, as they are not trap in the game, instead, they have their own “Avatar” basing on the data and sprites of Frisk and Chara. (The situation is more towards VR? AR? I’m not sure what to call it) The Player has their memories intact.

The story is just Player goofing around in Undertale, until plot happens, but I didn’t really like the idea as I have no clue how to progress the story forward, so the whole story was re-written.

Player mostly hack codes, while Frisk has the Reset/Reload button.

Initially, their eyes didn’t change colour when using abilities. But I wanted to distinguish what and when the abilities are used.

Version 2:

This is where, I decided that the Player actually inhibits Frisk body, though they are not amnesiac. Frisk is like a ghost (narrator?) here. The image above is post-skip version to maybe 1 year trapped in Undertale. This idea was scrap and rewritten due “Chara” ‘s story and I wanted to involved Gaster in the story. (Also, because I didn’t want to draw this version hairstyle anymore, hahaha (  ≧ᗜ≦))

Player has both the hacking and reset/reload abilities.

This version of Player is more uptight and serious.

Version 3:

I think this is like 2nd or 3rd version of the finalise concept. 

Our current Player. I made the hairstyle simpler.

This Player inhibits Frisk body and is amnesiac. The personality shifted so it’s easier for the player to act consistent. This version is more carefree than ver 2, they are similar to ver 1.

First design of the Player (ver 3).

Despite being ver 3, I wanted to keep a bit of the ver 1 and 2 hairstyle but decided not to. Again, I wanted a simpler hairstyle.

This personality is just them being stress and filled with anxiety. A nervous wreck and a crybaby. Cries a lot at the first arc until they pull themselves together. But I didn’t wanna make them cry all throughout the story, if I continued to write them like that, I might ended up smacking Player myself hahaha. I ended up toning down the personality. 

Gaster would have replace Frisk as the ghost (narrator?). But I decided not doing it, because it conflict with the plot. That, and the story would be over much quicker with him around.

Side note: I had to change the relationship between Sans and the Player(hate, confuse, no interaction, chill, idk? etc), a lot of times, but in the end I decided to make him not trust the Player. 

Previously in most iteration, he just hates Player.  I planned to have him to kill the Player the first time they exited the ruins, but decided to go against it as it doesn’t really fit his style. Also, the story would go very differently if he did commit to it. Maybe one day I can make him kill them. In an alternate timeline maybe. ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Extras: Player in different outfits (loosely)based on the other fallen humans in this AU. (+ ruin outfit)

There is a reason, why the Player had worn some of these outfits in chapter 3 and 4. 

Don’t worry, it’s not originally the clothes worn by the other children, Toriel made them. She has spares. (Sorry, to the one that find it creepy, when it was first shown, hahahaha)

And, that’s all for now I am able to share, I wanted to show more, but I’m afraid, that’s already in the spoiler territory. 

Anyways-! Thank you again for the follow, each and every one of you are the best! And I hope you enjoyed the upcoming story! 

[sol-consort]

Not to be graphic but do you think Krogan penis' look like those dragon dildos? Like, is Wrex just packing monstrously? Thoughts?

Please be as graphic as your heart desires. In fact, let's theorise with the whole class on which bad dragon dildos fit the biology of the Mass Effect alien species the closest!

Smut below - linked pictures

Korgans

They are 100% packing monsters down there. Have you seen the size of korgans? I mean, they have heat cycles. There is a possibility they actually knot and have to wait a while, in order for their cock to go soft before pulling out.

Candidate one

A thick head that pops into place, an even thicker shaft that quickly narrows down at the end to make you "swallow" the thing whole in a semi-locking mechanism. It's harder for it to slip out that way, like a plug...a very long and big one.

I like the detail of the blunt spikes on the pubic area. They might feel good to grind against. The subtle ridges at the underside, those must feel amazing sliding against your walls, the bumps increasing and becoming more prominent the deeper it goes.

Humans definitely feel tighter to them. It's borderline painful for krogans. Luckily, the pain and pleasure wires in their brains are usually crossed. There's a noticeable raise below your stomach, where their cock is bulging out. literally making a space for itself amidst your organs and forcing your body to adjust to it. Korgans do get a slight ego boost from it, the humans are so easy to fill out and are as tight as a fist.

-

Turians

Candidate one

While the size is more comfortable and similar to humans, albet slightly bigger and more curved, the shape and function differ a lot.

The upper half is smooth with a very saturated neon-like colour, slightly florescent in the dark—cum too—rather than there being a defined "head" with a urethral orifice, the whole upper half is responsible for semen distribution. Basically, the whole upper half gets wet with pre-cum the more turned on they get, leaking everywhere. Purposely evolved to become self-lubricant and as smooth as possible to slide in seamlessly with no preparation required. It's also the most sensitive part. They can practically feel it kiss the entrance to your womb/rectum with each thrust.

The lower half is made out of many curves wrapping in around themselves. You feel every vein and large bump the more it slides inside. It's a completely different experience than taking the upper half, which should've prepared you for this by now. It clogs your entrance fully, preventing any cum from flowing out.

That's because...well, they cum in noticeably much larger quantities, made to overflow your insides. That's why burying their cock down to the hilt is so important no matter how intimidating it might seem to take in, their instincts won't let them finish unless they're fully inside you, it's etched into their biology.

Sleeping with humans to them is... hmmm.

In the nicest way possible, if turians had our equivalent of "high-end expensive sex dolls," it would be human shaped. Extremely fetishized, kinda? We are soft, very soft in their opinion. It's not just our lack of metallic plates, but the fact that our bodies are filled out in all the right areas. The way they can see our hips curve upwards into our waist, how they can grab a fistful of a human's ass and just squeeze, the plump thighs, the tender soft chest and completely bare and uncovered stomach.

Even a human's cock looks "pretty" in their opinion. Carefully with their claws with it, preferring to wrap their long together around it and squeeze.

We look like we were made to be fucked, as if our whole evaluationary purpose was to be bred.

The final nail in the coffin was them finding out that human insides are somehow ten times as soft as their outside. Turians can fit their entire tongue in there—the taste is strangely sweet to them despite being deathly allergic to literally every other thing in humans. It's like finding a flower with the most poisonous petals yet containing the sweetest necter in its centre.

The more a turian sleeps with a human, the higher the risk of them getting addicted to human sex. You're pliable and pliant. You don't fight back when they pin you. Turian sex is usually more rough. There is a whole lot great deal of teeth, claws, and other stuff involved. Blood is not out of the question sometimes. A battle for dominance.

But humans just...surrender immediately. At least they interpret our enthusiasm in bed as that. The eagerness to obey, the desperation to be fucked, begging for the turian cum and grinding back against them, meeting them halfway through every thrust. It's their wildest dreams come true, what's a wet dream to most turians is a reality with every human.

-

Drell

So, a fun fact about their skin! It's covered in millions and millions of tiny scales, giving it the illusion of seeming smooth. It probably feels more on the rougher side.

Which is why I think this is fitting

Candidate one

It's firm to the touch rather than fleshy. You can feel each one of the hundred tiny bumps lining its underside. The head is round and thick, a little tricky to get inside. But once it's in, everything else slides in smoothly, perfectly slotting into place.

It makes your insides adjust to its shape, not the other way around. It almost feels like a fully solid object. The scales gliding against your walls, scrubbing them in the best way possible. No amount of wetness will make its shape any less prominent, practically moulding your insides to memorise every curve and bump.

The scales grow towards the base, resulting in them flourishing out whenever the cock is sliding out, making it easier to thrust in than thrust out, the round head staying inside at all times.

The human body barely recognises the drell cock as a reproductive organ. Your brain's natural reaction is to attempt and push it out, even if you try and suppress it.

Resulting in a semi-spasming motion, the constant involuntary contrast and release of your wall muscles against the drell cock is absolutely driving them crazy, they have to fight an early orgasm each time. You try to explain that you can't control it.

While an oral ingestion of any drell fluids may cause hallucinations, that process becomes much faster with their cock inside you, analy or else, humans are slowly lulled into a state of intoxication which may manifest in euphoria, arousal and haziness.

I'd like to think that their cum is an aphrodisiac to humans, each time they finish inside you, the urge to get fucked again becomes stronger and stronger. harmless human/drell sex can easily spiral into the dangerous territory, hours melting into one another, your body overstimulating their cock constantly, while you're pumped full of aphrodisiacs.

While the rough feeling of their cock is amazing at the moment—partly thanks to your brain swimming in happy chemicals—it will leave you sore for days afterwards. The inside of your thighs are reddish and agitated from being brushed back and forth against the drell scales for so many hours, your insides feel like they're on fire, you can barely sit down without wincing.

There are two ways to remedy this:

A week full of rest, medical ointments, oils and painkillers

Let them fuck you & cum inside you again

Because sleeping with them again will completely wash away all feelings of discomfort as the cycle is reset. If you want a middle ground, a kiss or two, maybe even eating you out will be more than enough to get rid of the symptoms without digging yourself into a deeper hole.

To drell, sleeping with humans is extremely pleasant. Much like the turians' experience, everything in that section also applies to them. Drell bodies are made to account for all of these things in their drell partners... but humans are literally defenceless. Your body has no option but to take it. Not only that, but it's confused to what the thing pushing into them is that it's alien in every sense of the world.

Watching you try your hardest to take their cock inside and resist the intoxication each time, nursing a hangover and a sore body the next week. It fills them with immense guilt, which manifests into actual physical pain for them because that's how their emotions work. It's unbearable. That's why most drell avoid penetration when sleeping with humans, despite how being inside you is the closest to heaven they've ever felt.

[takeomurasaki]

Hey takeo! How’s everything? Welcome to Tumblr and to the writing community. I read your post and I was hoping if you could write something for Izuku’s birthday? Maybe reader organizing a surprise party for him without him knowing? (Only if you want to that is)

And I can’t wait to see you grow here! I was once a small writer here (kind of still am) so I get how you feel about being on such a popular platform. And remember: writing’s supposed to be fun, not tiring. Post whatever’s on your mind.

Take care and stay safe!

Hi Moonlight, Thank you so much for the request and the kind welcoming message! I'm really grateful for your kindness and hope you grow even more as a writer 🙏🏻

I adore this idea and hope I could interpret what you had in mind, hope you enjoy this 🩵

" Perfect Birthday for Him 💚 "

Izuku Midoriya x GN!Reader

Type: Romantic, Fluff, One-shot.

Summary: Surprise party for Izuku's birthday.

Word Count : 2005 words

You put your hand on your hip, the other on your forehead. The cake was finally in the oven.

"I can't believe I beat the squad to it! It was exhausting but everything's ready cake wise."

"Could you help me clean now? First you kidnap me from my morning training to bake a fucking cake for Deku and now you won't even clean. Damn extra!" Bakugo screamed-whispered in your ears. It was still early and if the both of you woke the others up, Izuku might wake up, and that's a no-go.

You weren't the best at baking, that was a flaw of yours but you always tried your best at it. That failed this time around, though. You had tried to prepare a cake for Izuku's birthday but you mixed the cake mix with too much olive oil and it was ruined and smelled terrible. Thank God you knew just the right person to help you: Bakugo. He might be a douche, he was the best at baking so you asked him regardless. The blonde wasn't dumb, he saw in your eyes that this cake meant a lot to you, and he sure could see you wanted to impress his childhood friend. Your eyes were shining and a deeper colour than they used to be, your cheeks were tinted red and sweat dripped from your forehead. Your hair was messy from the rush you had been in for the past couple days preparing the perfect birthday for Midoriya.

He found that funny and laughed at your face, but followed through with your plan anyway. He's not a monster, why wouldn't he help his nerdy childhood bestie get game?

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming. You're going to wake them up if you keep speaking so loud Bakugo please.." You sighed in complete despair and closed your eyes. He sure could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

As you were washing the dishes and Bakugo finishing cleaning the countertop, he spoke out of the blue.

"Say professional simp, why'd you stress so much over that birthday party anyway? You know damn well he's gonna enjoy it if it's you preparing it for fuck's sake." He said rather loudly, grinning like a mad man, he REALLY was a pain in the ass today.

"Bakugo I- He- What? Oh my God" you facepalmed, your face so red your ears began to redden too. You gritted your teeth, this guy was gonna ruin the plan it he keeps at it. "Shut the fuck up and don't speak so loud! Get back to cleaning." You got back to cleaning the dishes, furrowing your brows still red faced. You did hope he was right, that Izuku was gonna like it and actually realize you liked him bad, like bad bad !

Let's not forget who Midoriya is, he gets quite oblivious when it comes to love. Random people were hitting on him at least once a month in the most random places ever and he never suspected a thing, he thought they were just being nice.

That made you fall deeper for the green haired boy if you were honest, you found that just so cute. He always was but his oblivion to others' perception of him added to his natural charm.

You could not mess today up, you were a compassionate and thoughtful friend who always went above and beyond to make your loved ones feel special. You have a knack for creating unforgettable moments and ensuring that every detail is perfect when it comes to showing someone how much they mean to you, mostly Izuku.

It was your chance of getting him to be aware of himself and his attractiveness that you admired deeply, too.

Later on, you went to Mr. Aizaiwa. He wasn't your teacher, you were in class 1-C, but he was Midoriyas and he was helping the whole plan happen out of sheer boredom. He was indeed the weirdest teacher you'd ever met.

It was lunch time, the perfect timing to meet him and discuss today's matter. You knocked on the almost empty classroom's door and entered slowly.

Internally you were an absolute mess. Trying to keep your composure wasn't easy as a swarm of butterflies filled your stomach to the brim, the anticipation was overbearing. The party was getting closer.

"Hello Aizaiwa sensei. Do you remember about Izuku's birthday party perchance? Do we have permission?" You managed to smile somewhat normally with sweaty palms.

He looked up from his spot, tucked in his sleeping bag about to fall asleep from the bags under his eyes. "Hello Y/N L/N, I do remember problem child's birthday party... Principal Nezu is okay with the party being held in the dorm's common room. You will have to mark out the things you're using from the school on a paper though so we know what you took. Dismiss now, I'm sleepy, kid." And with that he just fell on the ground and closed his sleeping bag further, till we couldn't see his face.

You did a little happy dance, how could you not? You had everything planned out perfectly. You rushed out of the classroom to prepare the decorations and the organization.

You were by yourself to prepare the room and all. The others were still in class. After class was done everyone has to come here and finish preparing everything with you, excluding Ochaco of course. She was his current best friend and was tasked to keep him occupied for sometime so we could all hide and all. Honestly your excited was making you go faster than you anticipated, your breath was warm as you were going up and down chairs to be tall enough to reach the ceiling and put the All Might banner and balloons you managed to obtain.

You carefully placed the plates and cups, All Might themed of course, on the table. Each plate and cup with a name on it so no one would get mixed up, that also prevented you from forgetting anyone. You prepared the soft and energy drinks you had brought the day before and put them on the table alongside crackers, chips and nerunerune kits. Candy for the sweet guy, you were proud of the connection you had made at the supermarket. You even got to use UA's party things, so you had confetti on the table, on the ground and even found a red carpet to put at the door leading to Midoriya's chair. Oh his chair, you took an extra time on it. It had little All Might stickers on it you brought for this special occasion, an All Might cushion sitting bare seemingly waiting for Izuku to sit down on. You were overjoyed it was so perfect and turned out how you imagined it.

After the bell rang, the others rushed to the dorm and were surprised to see you had done everything. You took the paper hats, All Might themed why wouldn't they be, and ended one to each and everyone. Mina insisted on having colorful streamers, you couldn't disagree it was a great idea for sure, the clean up was going to be a nightmare but that's for later.

You all got in your hiding spots and turned off the lights, Ochako texted you and said she was near with Midoriya. Your heart was racing, your face red. Barely hyperventilating at this point, you brushed your palm against your chest to contain your excitement. The door clicked open.

"Ochako-san? Why is it so dark in there?" Midoriya was intrigued and turned on the light. Seconds after, you all jumped up and screamed happy birthday to the birthday boy. Midoriya was surprised, his eyes wide and sparkling as he scanned the place and everyone in the room. He smiled brightly, showing his pearly white teeth. His cheeks tinted pink at this point. He thanked everyone, one by one, until it was you left. He approached you, he seemed excited from what you could tell.

"My raitō! Everyone told me you planned all this and I could never thank you enough!" He engulfed you in his muscular arms.

Your eyes widened, he had just called you his precious and on top of that he was hugging you. Heat rushed to your whole face and ears. Your pupils dilated, you inhaled his sweet scent that filled your lungs to the brim. You giggled finally hugging him back.

"It was nothing Izu, nothing is enough to compare to you." You admitted, a knot forming in your throat as the words spilled out your mouth. Izuku instantly lifted his head up from the hug and he was scarlet red at this point. He started stuttering and muttering, you couldn't really understand what he was saying so you just laughed. With the courage you had managed to form you gave him a small peck on the cheek and went to Todoroki to get the gifts out of their hiding spots in his room.

Izuku was frozen in place, his chin trembled as he tried to process what just happened. His hand trailed slowly to his cheek and realization hit him straight in the face. He had not studied them enough, that wasn't in his notes.

The time for the gifts came, everyone hurried at the table as Izuku sat down on his custom chair. He was so nervous, that was a lot of attention on him at once and you were still there, sweetly grinning at him. He opened each gift gently as to keep the All Might merched wrapping paper and thanked everyone for their gifts. The last one was yours and he was absolutely thrilled, his palms shaking and his heart racing. He opened the box hidden under the wrapping paper and lifted an eyebrow, the box was empty.

"Is- is this normal Y/N ?" He said scanning the box, flipping it upside down and shaking it.

You were freaking out. Everything was perfect but this. The gift wasn't in the box. Without even thinking, you screamed, terrified and hurried to Todoroki's room, it must still be there. Izuku followed you and motioned the others to stay put in their place.

"Where the fuck is it!? I swear it was just there!" Your eyes scanned every corner of Todoroki's room in desperation. You were moving every single piece of furniture trying to find the gift for Izuku, you rambled on about where it could be and didn't hear it feel Izuku's presence in the room. His brows narrowed and he stepped towards you. He placed his hand on your shoulder stopping you dead in your tracks. You were crying, the frustration was too much for your poor heart and soul to handle.

He opened his arms and smiled at you,

"Y/N please calm down, I don't need a material gift it's all fine I promise. We can have fun with the others and we'll search for the gift after the party how does that sound to you? Is this ok?"

You accepted the embrace, slowly nodded rubbing your eyes. "I guess this is. I'm so sorry Zuku it was meant to be a perfect birthday. I was so focused on you and your birthday party I even forgot to put the gift in the box." You managed to trail out between small whimpers and crys. Izuku gently rubbed your back as you confessed to him, he was happy you trusted him with your emotions. Seeing you vulnerable like this comforted his love for you, if you could break your outer walls down for him, he could do the same for you.

"I understand the struggle, it was the same to me when it was your birthday honestly. You're just so mesmerizing I lost myself for a moment." You looked at him with mouth agape, face redder than it had ever been. He chuckled and pecked your forehead, just as red as you were.

"Your presence and attention towards me and my birthday is the greatest gift you could have given me, Aijin."

Takeo.

[balancingdiet]

So i just finished the movie earlier and I am in so much feels right now HAHAHA. Just a mini rant regarding the movie! MAJOR spoilers ahead

i'm so happy i went in blind for the movie so i literally have 0 information about it. The only thing I know was Heiji and Kaitou Kid were gonna be it. So colour me surprise when there were a lot more easter eggs and fun references to canon scenes than I expected, and I do semi-enjoy them. But I was truly SHOOKEDTH when Aoko appeared. I literally gasped and was screaming internally in the cinema because MY BABY GIRL??? While it made sense that she should be there when Inspector Nakamori was shot, I still didn't expect her to be included in the movie at all. Every scene with her were the best moments I had tbh, followed closely by Kaitou Kid's angst when he couldn't save Inspector Nakamori (hmm yes i love the pain and guilt and emotional distress HAHAHAH) I would probably need a second or third watch to fully grasp how they solve the riddles to the treasure thingy, but I'm okay to cast that concern aside in exchange for enjoyable, strong character-driven moments! But sadly, the dynamics were kinda lacking in this movie for me. There were just so many things going on, with the confession plan, then the murder, then the kidnapping, then the riddle, then the story of the swords... you get it. This movie had so many things going on that nothing was going on at the same time? I felt like if I were to watch any other movie with Heiji&Conan/Kid&Conan/Heiji&Kid in it, their dynamics would be the same and underdeveloped. In fact, what I love were actually the unconventional or lesser popular dynamics? Like I mentioned, Aoko really steal the show, and I enjoyed her interaction with Conan and referencing to Kaito's younger self LOL. And when Ran noticed and was supportive of Heiji's confession plan, their moments were super nice and cute too! (Though it was no shocker when Heiji's confession was ruined, once again. At this point I really do feel bad for him.) Now, to the important part: the cousin reveal HAHAHHAHA When Heiji asked Conan if he has a sibling or something, I was kinda "hmm??", but I didn't thought they would really go with the reveal in this movie. While being a KaiShin shipper, I still adore ShinRan and KaiAo a lot (those KaiAo crumbs cured my sadness HAHAHA). I'm not sure if I would incorporate this new reveal into any future KaiShin fics (if I'm writing any), but still I am kinda disappointed that they decided to reveal it this way, like it's just a "by the way thing". But what was worse was that Toichi is indeed really alive, with this information backed and followed up since the Midnight Crow arc in Magic Kaito Manga. This "plot twist" actually felt rather flat, like it was done just for the shock factor and not for substance. Like there really wasn't a point for it? Unless the dcmk verse is really going to unite and they are going to take down the BO + Snake gang together in the future? Idk. This whole thing feels cheap... and an unnecessary plot device. Honestly, it would be a lot cooler if Phantom lady (Chikage) plays a more active role than Toichi's "Kaitou Corbeau". His actual death was what motivated and made Kaito who Kaito is today. And to just rip that away because Gosho cannot allow good characters to remain dead... is just kinda ugh. MagicKaito-verse is kinda messed up for me now and I felt a little bit sad when I walk out of the cinema after that LOL. I still love DCMK and I will always adore all the characters in my heart (bigger shoutout to Aoko though LOL), but I just hope that whatever direction Gosho takes with the story, it's for the better: Rather than relying on the characters to make the plot interesting, he should address/better the plot that drives the characters to complete their interesting stories. Not sure if this make sense but yeah. Oh well, if you have read till this far, thank you for hearing my long rant! I do feel a bit better after this HAHAHAHA

[skendoss]

28th February 2025

Dear rio

i'm that one of your new annon who came out from the wall and This is my review after finishing two season of link click:

Hey Qeeen! so i finished link click 3 or 4 weeks ago and *Sobs* hoe it was a so good ikd why it's not popular like So now I’m sitting here, emotionally devastated, traumatized, and officially beefing with you for supporting my dumbass decision. this show was straight-up a masterpiece. The characters? Peak. The art? Gorgeous. The opening? A whole religious experience, i love the opening/endings!freaking inplick official arts? give it to me rachel! cheng xiaoshi My BABY😭 i love him, I love the trio so much my qia ling i love it so much , every character are so well written and i like them all, first i thought i was gonna be a lu guang girly but he kinda was a bit crusty and dry in s1 to me don't get me wrong i love him so much but then in b arc know bro just was having back pain to carrying the whole show, anyways, WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO FROM NOW ON, girl yk desperation for fancition made me to jump into random fandom and sadly this time the i became the victime, and why tf there isn't anything one tumblr girl the sahra is more hyderated that the tags, i literally probably followed every account that writes for this ass dounghua, i can litrerally recite all of your works cuz i screenshooted all of them😭 this gonna be my next hyperfixasion that probably not gonna leave my brain for the next 10 years, i downloaded it on billibilli and watched it when my wifi wnt off cuz your homegirl is broke, and then i got kinda lazy cuz the arc didn't show up so i got into tiktok and got my ass spoiled cuz the only reason i started to pay attention to this diaboli-typical show was none other than my glorious canibali-charismatic king VEIN, cuz one day i was minding my business one tiktok and came across the meeting scene and that " you look tasty😋" I fear that the moment he showed up on screen, he awakened the freaky demons I thought I had successfully leashed. They were just napping. And now? Now they’re feral. and "sweetie" like HELLO?? he has my favourate colours and guess what my favourate colour is it's black/white/red, love the new trio love puppy xia few he's such cutie, and liu xiao ngl in that scen where he was offering his hand and wasn't wearing any glasses he kinda looked like a character from magi anime, and he was giving " join our cult" ahh pose, anyway they're SO HOT hope no one die- they probaly will🤧 this all i have right now, come again after the bridung(dk the name)arc, pls papa me want more movie give us some crumbs

Your freaky Follower:

Sasha.

SASHA!!!!! ANON REVEAL!!!!❤️

firstly i am SO sorry about the delay in my reply to this!! this is actually what made me want to come back 🥲 i typed out a big looooong response, and then lost it. urghhhhhh

secondly; PLS DONT BEEF WITH MEEEE WE ARE IN THE SAME BOAT TOGETHER!!!!

‘the sahara is more hydrated than the tags’ made me laugh out loud😭😭

ALSO the ‘you look tasty’ english dub is dropping today!!! i hope they don’t butcher it im nervous frfr

sasha when i tell you reading this was a whole rollercoaster HAHAHAHAHA thank you for making me laugh it truly sounds like the post link click depression got you GOOD 💀

now i still have some beef with vein but i get it i truly dooooo. he DOES look tasty 🥲🥲

i am fully intending on filling up those tags soon! i just don’t have a laptop right now and i can’t bide writing on my phone 🥲 i should have a new one over the next 2/3 weeks, though!!

PLSSSSS i beg you to unload your thoughts into my inbox again sweet sasha. i enjoyed this SO BAD HAAHHAHA. MUCH LOVE TO YOUUUU❤️❤️❤️❤️

[wayfayrr]

I finished my tattoo sleeve 🎉 took 3 sessions, and I almost fell asleep while my tattoo artist was doing my bicep, but I’m done ✨ But got me thinking, what’s your thoughts on Hylian vs Human customs when it comes to tattoos? And piercings too, cause thinking on that too, got a couple ear piercings, snake bites, septum, and a nose ring on both sides, love to know your thoughts on this <3

Also, while we’re on the subject, when it comes to pain, what do you think is the difference between Hylians and Humans? Like do you think humans can take more pain? Not sure if you’ve said much on this topic, but I love to hear any thoughts on these things <33

~🍀 anon

CONGRATS ON THE SLEEVE CLOVER!!!! I bet it looks fantastic and that the sessions were all worth it <3 (also your piercings sound super neat too <333)

but about the differing customs when it comes to tattoos? (are there any characters with tattoos now that I think about it?) I think hylians put a lot more meaning behind any tattoo. As in you are not allowed to be tattooed unless there is a good enough reason. Partly due to how hylia sees hyilans as pure and perfect so they shouldn't need to stain their skin like that (I should say I don't have anything against tattoos whatsoever and I'm trying to work up the courage to get one so none of that reflects my irl opinion) Whereas piercings seem to be a right of passage, with the links getting their ears peirced with their hoops when they come of age, it's not about self-expression as much as upholding traditions to hylians

humans on the otherhand? Self-expression all the way babyyyy, you already wear more colourful and patterned clothes than they do. humans make more of a celebration of the self rather than being more 'holy', it helps when you don't have a being like hylia keeping a constant watch for everyone to be held up to impossibly high standards. piercings are another part of self expression, there's no pressure to get them and there's also nothing stopping people who do want them I also think that human tattoos would be far more colourful than any hylian ones, with their's tending to be solely using black ink if there is any present. So I think any fun tattoos would surprise the chain a lot, even sky seeing as he grew up with a lot of hylian societal expectations on him, he's human yes - but he's ripped so far from his culture that I think he'd have a mourning period over what he could - should have had. Not that he doesn't like skyloft, it's just - what could have been.

as for pain tolerance! Thats another reason I came into the sky is a human headcanon, I think that hylians have a lot lower pain tolerance than humans, And if sky is human then this is actually supported by the game! almost every single link starts with three hearts - sky starts with six. it's not like any other hylians are going to be stumbling upon heart containers either I kinda like the idea that later heroes had to be given more potential heart containers to find just to be on par with sky for how much damage they CAN take let alone their pain tolerance. It's hard to make direct comparisons honestly but I think sky would be able to shake off a lot more than the others - say a broken arm perhaps. sure he'd be in pain but he can have it cast and then go around as normal till it's healed. or well, normal as you can with a broken arm yk? if say - time broke his arm it would probably mean bed rest for him until he's healed (although unlike sky he could set the bone and chug down a couple of potions to be done with it in a matter of hours)

[ladespeinada]

Some thoughts on season three of The Bear, hastily written after finishing it:

Sydney Adamu. My love, my life, my heart, my soul. Her frustration just grew and grew and grew throughout the season, and underpinned with that score, made me increasingly anxious until it finally culminated in that intense panic attack she had outside of her apartment (at which point, it felt cathartic.) She’s so clearly mirroring Carmy and his relationship with his old boss, down to panicking in the same spot. I want better for her, in multiple ways, up to and including healthcare benefits.

Which leads me to: why the fuck was Nat working so close to her due date, and why did no one push back against her going to pick up boxes of napkins when she’s literally about to burst. I know it meant that we got Ice Chips out of it, and an episode focused on Nat and Donna, but it didn’t make sense to me.

“I left you alone.” “So, don’t let it happen again.” “It’s never gonna happen again.” That blue-eyed, curly-haired, Grecian-faced man lied in Sydney’s face, thinking that being physically present in the same space and working in proximity means the same thing as not leaving her alone. Sydney was more alone in this season than she was in the season two when Carmy fucked off and hung out with Claire and talked about emergency room horror stories.

The presence of the Faks was overwhelming this season, which ended up feeling like purely ornamental proof that The Bear is indeed a comedy because look at these bumbling fools! They’re funny! They’re little jesters! Any and every self-serious restaurant after a Michelin Star will surely have Two Little Guys at the helm, no matter if they have no serious training or serving skills!! It’s not as if said self-serious restaurants aren’t regularly draining money on overhead costs, of which labour is surely a part of! (Why did the Computer only suggest Marcus get cut from The Bear, and not the fucking Faks? Are they not getting paid? What the hell is the deal there? These are not serious people.)

“If you fuck with Marcus, I will murder you.” IKTR!!!!!!

Why did the screen time for all of the characters of colour get minimised, especially in comparison to last season. Why did neither Angel or Manny have any major lines that weren’t just curse words, or scenes where they were interacting with others beyond washing dishes. Why did I see the Faks more than I saw Sydney. I wanted to see more of Gary’s somm classes. I wanted to see more Ebra. I wanted to see more of Marcus’ desserts. I also wanted to see Marcus more actively hanging out with Luca. I wanted more scenes with Tina and Marcus cooking together, riffing off of each other and their experiences!

Finally, some interiority for my sweetiepie Tina Marrera! That said, we mostly got a look at her past, and a limited look at her present (my girl is experiencing some massive imposter syndrome, but we don’t get to dig into it much. Nor do we get many Tina x Ebra moments which is an affront to me personally because their relationship is my favourite). I read this Slate review of season three by Jack Hamilton after I finished watching season three, and while I don’t agree with everything, I found this articulation especially in line with my thinking re: Tina and her episode: “The incessant use of flashbacks feels like a crutch to avoid characters or the show itself actually moving forward, in any direction. Dribbling out details of a character’s past like breadcrumbs is a hackish and tiresome device: Filling in backstory shouldn’t be confused with character development.”

That said!!! The scenes with Michael, especially in Tina’s episode, are incredible. Just a few minutes and you can see the shine of Michael’s charisma, the underbelly of his pain, you miss him and want him back, you see why everyone loved him so deeply. He was so magnetic in this episode, and so terrifying in Forks, and the decline in between those episodes must’ve been so painful to watch. 

This might sound silly to say because it was still very much everywhere, especially in the beginning of EP2, but Chicago felt like it was missing. Or rather, the anxieties of Chicago were missing. In seasons one and two, there’s the looming threat of Chicago gentrification (in one, The Beef is hurt by it; in two, The Bear is a part of it), plus there’s the aftereffects of COVID on Chicago’s restaurant scene. In season three, we got shots of Chicago, yes, and a lot of like, Wilco or whatever, but it didn’t feel grounded in the city the way it had in previous seasons. Not quite sure how to articulate this thought, but there you go.

The “haunting” the Faks go on and on (and on and on) about is so hamfisted, and felt so out of place for a show whose writing is usually quite taut, especially in its comedic moments. It’s just bashing you over the head with the idea that omg, it’s not just the dead that can haunt the living, the living can as well! What an idea!

I really wish Claire’s character was better written, but once again, her characterisation fell flat because she’s presented in mostly flashbacks, and through Carmy’s perspective at that, and that man apparently has difficulties understanding that she’s meant to be a person and not just a concept.

The moment in the final episode, where Syd and Carm are eating with other chefs at Ever, and one of them says “the greatest mistake is working for a bad boss, such that, what it unlocks in you is the culture that you choose to create”....hilariously unsubtle but fantastic nonetheless, because it’s followed by Carm confronting his nightmare boss (David Fields! I def did think he was a hallucination Carm was experiencing at Ever's funeral), and because it’s absolutely clear that Carm is also a fucking bad boss, and Sydney should absolutely not sign those papers. (I don’t think she should go with Adam and his new restaurant either, because the vibes are off there, too.) 

Along those lines: that moment where Carmy says, I think about you too much, and Fields responds with, I don’t think about you was fantastic, but also felt unearned.

Olivia Coleman’s Chef Terry saying, Service, bitches! was tremendous. 

Reiterating that I wanted to see more of Luca and Marcus together. I love them, your honour.

Selfishly, I indulged and binged this season because I was hoping it would unlock inspiration for me to keep writing my Tina fic and just fic in general but I don't think it did that, unfortch.

(Last thing: yet another season with Taylor Swift but no Fall Out Boy. We continue to suffer.)

[repressionmd]

3 7 and 15!! :DD i love question #3 bc it always tickles me to know what people hate, petty style

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

this is such an interesting question sfgjk because i actually read like. a lot of stuff 😭 and i guess i wouldn't necessarily say that i hate it but i do instantly switch off when like. piss kinks r involved i really don't get it i get the control element but 👋(>_<)

although i think i hate homophobic house i'll be so fr he would Not say that. i don't care i just don't see him digging up deadnames to dig at people with absolutely no other prongs to the attack ??? like there has to be some kind of reason with it idk + when people remove that in favour of "oh he's just being his regular brand of asshole" i rly don't like it

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

i can't believe you've made me do this 😭 but ok this snippet from this thing is supposed to be give-and-take:

"You would have come at any time, even if it was worse, even though it upsets you, because you like me." House knew it upset him? He still called? Wilson held every muscle in place. Stayed silent, held the eye contact. Held House's arm that he'd finished bandaging already but didn't want to let go of. Waited for the inevitable joke. House's eyes widened, shone with a new light. "You like me!" For one aching, fleeting second, Wilson thought House was about to kiss him, but Wilson jerked back, letting go. He ignored every instinct in his mind telling him to move in closer. He was intimately aware of the heat of House's thigh against his, the ghost of House's arm on his hand, the memory of House's head on his shoulder. "House. Shut up." House was high. He was drunk, he was exhausted and in pain. He didn't know what he was doing. They couldn't do this.

because there's just SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION!!! wilson in this fic has been pushing back his own memories to compartmentalise and take care of house - and his first reaction to "you like me" is skipping that bit and going Back to feeling like house called him because he doesn't care about wilson's emotions. the reality is ... complicated. the reality is house trusts wilson intimately, trusts him to do what needs to be done, and house doesn't know the extent of wilson's trauma. "even though it upsets you" isn't supposed to mean "i purposefully called you to trigger you", it's supposed to mean "im sorry i hurt myself because i know it freaks you out"

and then wilson realises that house is serious about the confession (!!!) but he can't Deal with That. he wants it he wants it so bad, i think house is realising his crush for the first time but wilson has been repressing his feelings for months if not longer. so he tries to convince himself its not real and runs away <3 made even more poignant by wilson having previously made the observation that house was 1. coming down from being high, 2. not that drunk, 3. probably has had a nap and 4. not in any more pain than he's used to. he's thinking clearly for once, and wilson can't.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

ough this is hard because 2 out of the 4 fics im thinking of (my 3 posted ones + kutner lives) are fix-it? i'd absolutely love to see the kutnerfic filmed though i think you could do so much with the opening sequence in that way that the show makes certain scenes have that air of delirium and panic. you could do so much with colour and lighting and sound and aughhh plus we could see more kutner!!! yay!!! also hilson are married in there. so that's always a bonus <3

[moghraidhs]

"that shouldn't have happened" for charlie...(sorry) (not sorry)

this got away from me but it was worth it

tw for ptsd, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied past sa

He shouldn't have come.

The beer tingles the back of Charlie's throat, leaving him pleasantly warm. He's had at least one too many, if the slight haziness of his mind is any indication, but he has a feeling it would take an entire gallon of alcohol to block out the memories stirred up by tonight.

There are familiar faces dotted all throughout the room. Boone is singing along to Major Egan's terrible rendition of Blue Skies. Sawyer is talking to Hambone. Max and Gabe are leaning against the far wall with whiskeys in hand, pretending to scope out the room as if either of them has the slightest intention of dancing with any of the girls there.

If he'd had two or three beers more, Charlie might tell them to stop fucking around and actually talk to each other - but he's just sober enough not to do that right now.

A glint of gold hair and broad shoulders catches his eye.

Forrest, of course. Still in military uniform rather than civilian clothing like most of the men, obviously continuing his family's oh-so-proud tradition. The ring on his left hand is new. The misery underlying his broad grin is not.

Charlie knows how he feels.

Forrest must sense him watching somehow, because he looks across the room. The expression in his eyes is one Charlie's seen a dozen times before: hunger, underpinned by shame.

Charlie had promised himself a long time ago that he and Forrest were never fucking again. Had meant every word of it. But he's tired and a little drunk and there are too many ghosts in the room, hovering in the corners with hollow eyes and burnt faces.

He's still trying to decide what to do, Forrest approaching steadily, when there's a voice at his elbow.

"Want to get out of here?" Jamie's smile is bright, but his hands are shaking a bit, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. He's never gotten used to crowds since…since…

Fuck off, Charlie tells the ghosts in his head. Maybe this is just what he needs. "Sure."

He follows Jamie outside. Doesn't bother to turn and see if Forrest is watching.

The air is just starting to turn cool, the sky a hazy colour between purple and navy. It's a nice change from the heat, the music, and the smell of cigarettes, whisky, and too many bodies inside.

They find a half empty crate of beer by one of the storage sheds and grab a few. Jamie's cheeks are flushed a bit, and he coughs after his first few swallows. That doesn't stop him from finishing the bottle, or opening a second. Charlie watches him and tries to remember if he'd drunk this much back when they were at Thorpe Abbotts. He can't recall.

Then again, war changes everyone.

"How are you doing?" Jamie asks, because he's nice like that. He always had been, even in the st–

"Okay," Charlie says. It's a fairly truthful answer. "You?"

Jamie takes another swallow of beer before he answers. "My brother got married."

"Oh." Charlie's not sure what to say to that. He remembers Jamie talking about his younger brother. Kid was a paratrooper in the Airborne or something like that. It had been obvious that Jamie adored him. Yet his tone sounds anything but happy. "Congratulations."

"He didn't tell me." Jamie's voice is soft, defeated. "It happened a month after I got back. I only found out because I saw it in the paper."

Oh.

"I thought it'd be better after the war, y'know?" Jamie swirls his bottle around aimlessly. "Thought he'd stop hating me so much. Guess I didn't realise how bad it was."

Charlie sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry."

He's not sure what else to say. Jamie's always been the "mom" of their crew - mama bird, Sawyer and Denny used to call him. Looked after everyone without a word of complaint. Charlie's pretty sure he wouldn't even be talking about this if he were sober, but nights like this have a way of opening up every wound, fresh and raw and painful.

Yet another reason why he shouldn't have come.

Jamie inhales shakily and puts his hands over his face. He's crying.

Fuck, Charlie hates this. He's no good at this kind of thing. Part of him wants to get up, slip back inside and let Jamie cry it out alone.

But that's cruel. Too much so, even for him. It's Jamie, for pete's sake.

He swallows his discomfort and puts his bottle down, slipping an arm around Jamie's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says again. It's all he has.

Jamie turns into him, burying his face in Charlie's shoulder. He's still crying, quietly and hopelessly, like a kid who knows no one is coming for him.

It makes Charlie ache and rage at the same time.

"It's going to be okay." Probably a lie, but he doesn't know what else to say. He rubs his free hand lightly over Jamie's back, up and down. "It'll be okay."

Jamie pulls back a bit, his breath hitching raggedly. His cheeks are wet, eyes red-rimmed and glossy. He's too close.

Something kicks to life in Charlie's gut.

Forrest had called him fucked in the head once after a mission, saying he didn't know the difference between sex and comfort. Charlie had smiled at him and asked if that meant he didn't want his cock sucked. An hour later, he'd returned to the barracks with a split lip and the taste of Forrest in the back of his throat.

Jamie isn't Forrest. Hell, Charlie doesn't even know if he likes anything other than girls. But the beer is clouding his head, and the ghosts are whispering in his ear, and Jamie's looking at him, all big eyes and shaky hands and so much hurt bleeding out of him Charlie can all but taste it.

In the end, he's not sure who makes the first move. Doesn't really matter, to be honest. His mouth collides with Jamie's, wet and messy and more than a little desperate.

Jamie tastes like salt and beer. His lips are soft and a bit chapped, and he's awkward at first but so so needy, kissing Charlie like his life depends on it.

It feels good to be needed.

"Get on my lap," he says, and Jamie does. It makes Charlie's head spin a little bit, though that could be just the beer. He tips his head back, out of reach of another kiss, and Jamie fucking whines.

"It's okay," Charlie says softly. He kisses the tears on Jamie's cheeks, grazes his lips just a little. "It's gonna be okay. I'll look after you."

This is such a fucking terrible idea. But in another scenario, he could be on his knees sucking Forrest off before being left alone to clean himself up. Kissing Jamie, rocking him back and forth along his thigh, can't be so bad compared to that.

Right?

He bucks his hips a bit, prompting a shudder as Jamie whimpers into his mouth. "It's okay," he says again, and this time it's true, because there's no one better at this than him. Even the fucking Nazis had known that.

The thought leaves him cold and sick. He kisses Jamie again to make it go away.

This isn't the fucking stalag. He isn't anyone's toy. He's doing this because he wants to.

He tells himself that over and over as the band plays on inside and Jamie grinds against him, breath short and uneven. For someone who's never done this before, he catches on quickly.

Just because he can, Charlie reaches down and palms him through his trousers. He barely manages two strokes before Jamie comes, going rigid, a bitten-off gasp escaping kiss-swollen lips. He collapses against Charlie's neck with a little sob, trembling all over.

It takes approximately thirty seconds for the awfulness of what he's done to hit Charlie. No longer tipsy, he's suddenly very aware of the sticky mess soaking the front of Jamie's trousers, his own arousal, and the fading sparks in his stomach now souring to shame.

He's been to three reunions since the war ended. Hasn't managed to make it through one yet without fucking somebody. Yet this time it's so much worse, for more than one reason.

Jamie shivers against him. Charlie can't tell if he's still crying or not. Suddenly, violently, he wants to cry too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I…that shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

Jamie doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let go either. Unable to move, Charlie closes his eyes and lets the tears fall.

He shouldn't have come.

~

forbidden kiss prompts

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hi, could you write a fic about Chubby!Harry coming home from school in a bad mood and not really eating any of his dinner (he normally wolfs it down then has seconds, so this worried James and Sirius) and then his dads ask him what’s wrong and it turns out people have been bullying him at school and the teachers have been ignoring it, and now some of them are getting involved too?

Lots of body-positive, hurt/comfort fluff, with protective Sirius and James going and giving the school a piece of their mind?

((A/N: Warning for mentions of bullying fat people and fatphobia.))

When Harry gets off the train and isn't bursting with happiness at seeing them again, Sirius tries not to take it personally. Harry is a teenager now, and it makes sense if he's more sad to leave his friends behind-- nothing compares to staying in the same dormitory as the best mates, he knows-- than happy to see his parents again.

He shares a look with James as they leave the station, and they agree that he'll shake it off soon enough.

Except he doesn't. His mood gets worse and worse. James practically drags him to the dinner table that night, and Harry only pokes at his food with a clenched jaw instead of eating it.

"Haz?" Sirius ventures.

Harry looks up from his plate, meeting his eyes dully.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?" James asks, unconvinced.

"Yes."

"It's just, you're not eating. I thought you liked Shepherd's pie," Sirius says. He would be worried that it didn't turn out except his piece is fine-- rather tasty, actually, since he has plenty of experience making it.

"I don't have an appetite is all."

"Did you eat a lot on the train?"

Harry's looks askance and gives a small shrug. He's lying, but as much as Sirius wants to get to the bottom of the matter, cornering Harry isn't going to help anything.

"It's alright. I'll set some aside so you can have it before you go to bed tonight," Sirius says, trying his best to smile like he doesn't suspect anything amiss.

"No, it's... it's fine," Harry tries. "I'll just eat a bit now."

While James and Sirius finish eating, Harry manages all of two bites.

"Alright Harry, that's enough," James says, pushing his empty plate away from himself so he can put his folded arms on the table. "What's wrong?"

Harry's expression turns pained. "Do I eat too much?"

"No, not at all," Sirius says, as James shakes his head. He isn't sure there is such a thing as eating too much, unless it makes one sick-- and Harry has never eaten so much that he puked. "Why would you think that?"

"Some people at school said..." Harry trails off, but it's not from a lack of words, it's from shame. His cheeks colour a self-conscious red.

"What did they say?" James asks sharply.

"I dunno," Harry mumbles. It's an obvious lie, and he continues on, almost as if he didn't say it at all. "That I'm... pigging out. That I'd lose weight if I ate less."

Sirius feels like his stomach drops to the floor.

"Who said that to you?" James asks.

Harry's shoulder shrink in on himself like he wants to disappear, but he answers the question without further prodding. "Everyone says it. Even the professors."

Sirius forces his voice to come out calmly. The last thing he wants is to sound angry and make Harry regret telling them. "Which professors?"

"Pa, I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

Both of his parents have to hold back the response that it is a big deal, because that's not going to help Harry feel better. A shared look between the two of them confirms that the professors will be hearing about it, but they're not sure how to handle the conversation right in front of them. Sirius tilts one corner of his mouth down-- he can't think of anything to say.

James clears his throat uncomfortably and looks back to Harry. Harry's gaze is trained on his barely touched meal, missing the quick interaction his fathers had. "You should be happy," James says, and it feels so simple and James to Sirius that he can't help but smile. "We're here to help you be happy. It's not a big deal to talk to your professors about something they shouldn't be doing or letting happen in the first place. One of the Defense professors in our day had it out for Pa, and your grandparents stepped in for him."

"I asked them not to, and I was embarrassed about it at the time, but it helped," Sirius adds softly. His heart aches looking at the warring emotions on their child's face. He recognises it from his own tumultuous teenage years; he hoped that Harry would never have to deal with anything that made him feel this way, but maybe growing up would always include something horrible.

Harry shifts uncomfortably. Then, so quietly they can barely hear, he lists the names of two professors. "Nobody says anything around the other professors, but they're..."

"We'll take care of it," James promises.

Sirius can't let his son sit there and look so sad, not when he can do something about it. He gets out of his seat and rounds the table to hug Harry from behind.

"Pa," Harry says, embarrassed, but in the usual way he is with his parents' antics, rather than personal shame.

"You're perfect, pup, you know that?"

"I'm not a pup anymore," Harry argues.

"You'll always be my pup."

"I'm glad to see you didn't deny the perfect part," James says, looking at them with a smile growing on his face.

Sirius keeps on hugging him because Harry isn't trying to get rid of him.

James's eyes flicker to Harry's plate once more. "Haz, Lily was heavy too." They don't talk about Lily much. She hadn't wanted to be involved after he was born, but then she died shortly after. It feels worse to not mention her role in Harry's existence, so they try to walk the line. Harry shares her genetics, and right now, that is worth talking about. "She was healthy, just like you are. There's nothing wrong with being fat."

Sirius loosens his arms and stands up enough to press a kiss to the top of Harry's head. He didn't want to let go, but he gets the feeling that he should anyways. He gives him a parting squeeze and rounds the table to give James a hug because his husband, at least, will always hug him back. With James's hand coming up to touch his arm, he feels grounded enough to offer, "Do you want me to find you something else to eat?"

"No, this- this is fine. Thanks." Harry takes a small bite, and they go from there.

*

In private-- and with a silencing spell to ensure Harry can't overhear-- they rage. They both need to rant and curse anyone who would treat Harry this way, and when it's just the two of them, they can do it. 

It's not only the two professors, it's the Gryffindor prefects too. Harry made a point of pretending like it wasn't that big of a deal the whole time, even though it was obvious he was hurting. He didn't tell them the names of all the students, just the ones with a bit more power. Prefects in the various Houses, a few upperclassmen. He even stressed that his friends told off anyone that said it, but they had their own studies and it's not like he needs them to look after him anyways. He tried so hard to downplay it while still answering their questions. It was understandable, but infuriating.

After they get the first wave of it out of their systems, it's time to plan. Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster so he'll have to be involved in some fashion, but he's not the one who will be dealing with the situation-- that'll be Professor McGonagall. She's the Head of House for Gryffindor, and much more hands on than Dumbledore could ever be. She should be looking after Harry now that the prefects can't be trusted to do a bloody thing except add to it.

When they manage to get McGonagall on the floo, she is gratifyingly concerned. When they mention that the Gryffindor prefects are part of the problem, she looks incensed.

"I wanted it to feel better," James says, after they're done talking to her and she's gone from their fireplace.

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to feel good after we took care of it. Maybe... I dunno, happy? Happy that Harry won't have to deal with it anymore, but I don't. I just feel angry, same as I did before."

"I know what you mean," Sirius says, taking James's hand in both of his own. "Maybe it'll feel good once he goes back to school and doesn't have to deal with it anymore. Right now, he's still with us. It's like nothing's changed yet."

"Yeah, maybe," James says noncommittally.

Sirius waits for him to finish whatever thought is in his head that's giving him so much trouble and isn't disappointed.

"I'm mad that it happened at all."

"Me too," Sirius agrees softly.

"I thought making sure it won't happen again would make that go away, but it didn't. I'm still angry."

Sirius squeezes his hand. He is too. He's not sure anything's going to make it disappear. "As long as it gets better, we'll move on."

"Right." James smiles at him. "Of course, you're right."