#it happens more often than you might think

[enhaniki-san]

Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend and remembering some of your first times with him

warnings: smut, nsfw, niki's slightly sadistic, cursing, etc.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes to annoy the shit out of you and will not say sorry at all unless you get so angry or really about to cry.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who's not a fan of pda but will rest a hand on your nape or hold your wrist instead of your hand. it might seem possessive outside but he's just a sweet boy who likes keeping you close.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who isn't one to get sick often but when he did, you saw how it hit him hard, insisting he was fine even though his messages gets more dramatic by the hour.

niki: i'll rest so i can see my girlfriend right away.

you: yes, do that.

niki: then she can kiss me again.

niki: baby, i think i'm dying.

you'll sigh, shake your head as you read his texts. then he will send you a picture of his thermometer reading 39°C with a caption:

you might as well say your goodbyes.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who loves to help you give him handjobs.

the first time it happened is when you and niki were cuddling peacefully, his feverish body was warming both of you.

you felt his shaft harden, pressing insistently on your ass, making cheeks heated as you became very aware of his body's conscious or unconscious reaction to being close to you.

and niki who's oblivious, buried his face deeper into your shoulder with a low groan, mumbling "i don't want you to leave" with his drowsy voice, heavy with sleep but his crotch pressed harder, as if seeking more friction.

you turned to face him, your hand gently combed through his hair while clearing your throat softly. unsure of how to address his hardening length. "niki..." you started hesitantly.

"hmm?" he replied with sluggish tone like he was on the verge of falling asleep but then, as if he finally caught on to your stiffened posture, his grip loosened immediately.

you remembered him sitting up a little. his flushed face brighter than before and not just entirely because of the fever that had been keeping him in bed for days.

"oh my God..."

"i didn't mean for that to happen-"

you bit your lip, unsure whether to laugh at the awkwardness or save him from further embarrassment. "it's... okay."

then your hands travelled from his hair down slowly to his back, fingertips were grazing the dips of his spine as it drifted lower, ghosting over the curve of his ass before wrapping around his stiff length and giving it experimental strokes.

niki gasped, mouth opening and his eyes were fluttering shut, breathing "ahh, shit." while arching into your touch. you continued to pump his shaft, it's twitching while you smear the drops of precum to ease the glide.

he was so hard for you already that it made your own arousal surge. you can feel your pussy throbbing in response.

slowly, niki leaned, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss and he tasted like sleep, medicine, but underneath that, fuck... he was all male heat.

a moan vibrated in his throat as you worked on his cock, his hips were rocking into the tight circle of your fist and you swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss while your free hand roamed the lean muscles of his chest.

niki's hand wrapped around yours, helping you stroke his dick faster. you both looked down at where you were connected, watching his hard dick into your joined fists over and over again.

melting under your touch, niki's hand started fondling the soft fat of your tits, completely at your mercy as you brought him closer to the edge then your eyes met, heavy-lidded and full with lust, he crashed his mouth to yours again.

it's sloppy, all tongue, teeth, and desperation.

niki's breaths grew ragged, his fingers moved and dug into your shoulders and with a firm squeeze to the head of his cock, it urged him over.

niki came with a broken cry of your name. cum spurted over your hands, fingers. painting his stomach, your knuckles, and the bed.

"i love you so much."

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes it when you asks him for anything whether it'll be something simple as helping you carry things or... something like asking him for head.

he will wrap his arms around you after and pull you into a tight hug, asking "it's good, right?"

"s-stop."

he will just laugh and rest his chin on your shoulder.

"god, this is so stupid."

"it's not, okay?" he will say firmly and look into your eyes. "i told you, you can ask me for anything. i mean it."

"we-well…" you'll try to change the subject by asking "do you wanna go downstairs and eat or something?"

"i just ate you."

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who seems to lose control when it comes to eating and fingering your pussy. he loves your taste, the texture of your sensitive petals, the way you writhe and moan... it's utterly intoxicating. he becomes completely consumed by it and just can't stop pleasing you even after you already came.

your body spasms, your legs started shaking and quivering while your eyes were also already watering from the intensity of your climax that you just might black out from overstimulation, yet niki's unable to pull away from your slick folds.

his tongue continued to lap at your clit, fingering your hole that juices started gushing out the sensitive flesh and ni-ki's just groaning in delight, totally unbothered by your gasps and whimpers.

"niki, wait..." you'll plead breathlessly, trying to push him back. "please..."

ni-ki also knows that you'll get mad at him after and that he might earn a slap on his pretty face but like a man on a mission, his objective right there is to make you cum over and over until you're a mewling mess and going down on you is the only way he knows how to achieve this feat.

ni-ki can feel your pulse against his tongue and it drives him wild. you've already orgasmed multiple times but he thinks you might just have more climaxes inside you and he won't rest until they're spent.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who chuckled after hearing you blabber nonsensical words because of the mixture of pain and pleasure that you couldn't quite articulate while having sex with him for the first time. he'll whisper "my poor baby" while peppering soft kisses to your cheeks which is a contrast to the powerful movements of his hips.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who always misses you already while you were just sleeping beside him. he tucks your hair behind your ear as he watches you breathe, pouting because he can't talk to you. he'll gently lifts your arms, wrapping them around himself before burying his face into your neck, sighing dramatically like he's suffering.

a/n: i'm back, the cute outline was inspired by a heesung fic i read here but i can't find it anymore TT

please read Nishimura Riki as your classmate

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

read exes - niki x reader

[endykelopaedia]

This does still ignore that we don't have to choose one avenue or another when it comes to the intersectionality of this topic.

This post is about misandry being a bad "avenue" for sociopolitical analysis, not about "choosing one." you'd know that if you read the post.

I recognize in my experience as a latino that latina women don't experience the demonization that i do simply because of my gender.

and thats your fucking problem. First Of All you aren't even black so why are you here on my post on anti-blackness like this (and i did notice how you replaced all discussion of black people and anti-blackness with "poc" to get your nasty foot in). And second of yall YES THEY FUCKING DO. You really think being a woman of colour saves you from the racism you experience for their race in any meaningful way? You obviously a misogynist but you might actually be stupid too. Idk how long u lived as a woman or man but maybe go ask your grandma or sumn if being a woman made being latine easier. My exact problem w this misandry shit is how easily it becomes for you people to simply not think abt the women in your community and how obviously misogynistic it is to think their experiences of discrimination and violence must be softer than yours bc shes not a man. choke. moving on.

The darker you are, the more pronounced the fear surrounding you becomes, but it is also amplified by how masculine or feminine your gender expression is. I don't quite agree that "projected hypermasculinity" is the only cause of this.

i think its awesome that this non-black dude thinks he's in the position to explain colourism to me now. Also, I didn't say it was. You'd know that if you Read The Post.

for many poc, they are often in the cross hairs of white-enforced gender binaries. Many people in positions of power [even other poc] will use gender as a violent means to police us, often seeking to turn our own expression of gender against us.

you ever notice how in turning our gender expressions against us, there might be a pattern of projecting violence and aggression (traditionally masculine traits often praised in non-black people), that isnt actually there? This is masculinisation. This is racism. You'd know that, if you read. the post.

This intersection is important to acknowledge and I think very overlooked when poc trans macs like myself have been begging people to listen to us.

Ok. I'm a black i mean poc transmasc. Listen To Me! you are actively talking over what im sayin and barely listening bc it challenges the validity of misandry, a word that has apparently done soooo much for you, and me too obviously, given the nature of this post that you definitely read.

Also the section on adultification is sound. But very strange claim that "black people aren't actually masculine!"

Didn't say this. In fact i also very explicitly said black i mean poc adults also experience adultification. Try reading the post again, and applying my logic that you say is so sound.

Like???????? What about those who are? I have black transmasc friends who have extremely different experiences than my black trans femme friends and I can tell you that it absolutely is about gender there.

thats crazy. you're gonna bring black i mean poc transfemmes into this when the murder statistics for black transfemmes look like this? i wonder what happened there... i thought femininity was supposed to protect femmes from racislised violence...

Everything intersects with race in these conversations of course but there are those of us who are trying to communicate more nuanced experiences.

so sick of yalls "but my unique experiences!!" whinging. fuckin grow up n read a book. you arent the main characters. there are socio-political forces above you shaping our oppression and i am talking about those! i'm not your mother!!! think abt society outside of your feelings for 5 seconds n then get back to me!!!

ALL men benefit from patriarchy just as ALL white people benefit from white supremacy just as ALL cis people benefit from cisnormativity just as ALL rich people benefit from poverty. you think you're being intersectional but you aren't! you're just absolving your ability to perpetuate or benefit from a certain system in your own mind because you too are marginalised. being a man does not create a unique intersection with your race because men, unilaterally, are not oppressed for being men, no, not even sometimes, no, not even when you're black i mean poc or gay or broke or trans. and you can still benefit from misogyny against the women who are just like you.

Masculinity does not equal power.

Yeah ok. neither does whiteness or cisness or money or nun. nothing equals power cuz anyone can be oppressed for any reason. get fucking real.

There is the similarity of not equating feminity with powerlessness.

erm actually... you're the real misogynist for noticing how women are systemically disempowered by men instead of uplifting femininity (by refusing to acknowledge that women are systemically empowered by men) I Am Very Smart.

And Finally, lets talk about these tags a mo.

"white" "american" and i am very explicitly neither white or american. easy to guess from the way i write this post. easier to confirm from looking at my god damn bio. and thats how i know you arent serious bc you really think only white americans utilise male privilege as a concept? yk the feminist you haphazardly snatched "intersectionality" from was a black woman explicitly naming the way that the misogyny she experienced from black i mean poc men and the racism she experienced from white women was rendered invisible by both groups failing to acknowledge the intersection she had of being both black and a woman? of course not. you're an idiot.

"black people are seen as hyper-masculine and face a lot of violence for it, so yes you can be oppressed for seeming or being masculine"

AHT!! lets talk! black people are not actually hyper-masculine. hyper-masculinity is a projection by people trying to justify anti-black fear and violence. it is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the hyperfocus on the masculinity of black people is itself racism!

when you call this issue of racism anti-masculinity or misandry or whatever, you are obfuscating the bigotry at play. ESPECIALLY given that it is overwhelmingly just white women's fear about black people's supposed hyper-masculinity that actually gets listened to & acted upon.

in addition, there are other addendums people tack onto their anti-blackness that completely cause this logic to fall apart when applied. Namely, adultification! black people, black children get adultified by white society.

We are assumed to be older & more independent, and thus less in need of the safety, care, sensitivity, accommodation one would give to a child, and this results in violence and neglect. it is directly observable in the way black children are more likely to get detention, suspended or expelled for the same behaviour as their white peers, s/a rates for black youth, and the arguments that 40 y/o cops give for brutalising & murdering black 20, 16, 12, 8 year olds who so much as breathe in their line of sight.

Given this then, following the misandry logic, we can say being recognised as older or as an adult is a form of oppression.

"black people are seen as older/more mature and face a lot of violence for it, so yes, you can be oppressed for seeming like or being an adult"

we can for the sake of this post name this oppression adultery.

i kid. but do you see the problem. being recognised as an adult is obviously, not itself a form of oppression, in fact quite the opposite, being recognised as adult can grant you a lot of privileges that children do not have.

and black kids are evidently, not adults or people who act like adults. they dont mature faster. black 18 y/os will also face the problem of adultification to justify violence against them. black maturity is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the form of oppression is racism, and adultification is the deployed means of enacting racism.

the means of combatting the adultification of black people would not come in creating adult positivity or "advocating" for adults or telling children not to fear adults. it comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

similarly the means of combatting the hyper-masculinisation of black people comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

Racism explains both of this phenomena far better than "misandry" ever could.

[kabsey]

rook sleepwalking, part 2 (more serious version)

lucanis is sitting on the red couch in the dining hall reading when rook walks in. they stop just inside the doors, not moving, not saying anything

lucanis quietly calls out. "rook?"

at the sound of his voice, rook turns toward him. they walk straight toward him, their steps far heavier and slower than their usual silent tread. they curl up on the other side of the couch, the crown of their head barely brushing his thigh. they're clearly asleep. he has no idea what to do. he doesn't want to stand up or move away because it might wake them, and they of all people need decent sleep. eventually he just goes back to his reading... or tries to. it's hard when he is so aware of how close rook is

when he senses it's around the time that they others will wake and come looking for breakfast or coffee, he eases himself off the couch as carefully as he is able (which is very carefully) and retreats to the pantry. when he hears the others come in and he is forced to go brew the coffee or they will all have to suffer through neve's, he steps back out. he glances toward the couch, but rook is gone

he doesn't mention it when they come down later. perhaps it was just one odd night

but it happens again. and again. and again until it becomes a new part of his rhythm at the lighthouse. it's nice. peaceful even. rook makes no demands on him, and he has a bit of company through the long night. (company besides spite, who is generally quieter when rook is there, even though they cannot hear him)

then one night, rook curls up a little closer than usual. they drop their head on lucanis's thigh instead of beside it. his heart pounds in his ears, and every muscle in his body stiffens, including his thigh. the movement makes rook stir a little, and spite hisses at him

so he forces himself to relax his tense body. forces himself to match rook's even breathing. forces himself to think that nothing has really changed. rook doesn't know what they're doing. and they are... colleagues, aren't they? bellara often leans her head on neve's shoulder when they chat. taash smacks davrin on the back when he makes an impressive kill. emmrich pats harding's hand on the table and starts conversations with "my dear lace." lucanis has never worked with anyone besides illario before, but rooks insists they are all a team

so he accepts it (enjoys it?) when it happens again. and again. and again. he becomes adept at slipping out from beneath rook in the early hours (solid training for stealth and patience). he finds it even makes daily life with the team a little easier. he no longer flinches when bellara puts a hand on his back as she slides behind him in the small kitchen. he no longer jerks back when he reaches for the same roll as someone else

and one night, he is so comfortable, so lulled by the warmth of rook's body and their soft pattern of inhales and exhales, that he falls asleep himself

he wakes with a start not long after, heart in his throat. but he is exactly where he remembers being. he looks around wildly, but spite is simply crouched in front of rook's face, watching them sleep

"you didn't leave," lucanis murmurs but really asking "why? why didn't you leave?"

spite scoffs without taking his eyes off rook. "can't. would wake. rook."

it's a small comfort, but not enough. he and spite have not reached an accord at this point, and mistrust is still high. so he goes to the only other person he can think of. (not rook. he does not know how to speak about this to rook. about the silent comfort they have brought him, that he hopes he brings to them)

the next time he is in treviso, he pulls viago aside, and though he hesitates, he manages to ask if he knows about this quirk of rook's

viago stiffens, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. he doesn't look lucanis in the eye as he explains that rook sleepwalks in moments of stress, that if he just sits with them for a short while, he can tell them to go back to bed and they will. and as he walks away he mumbles that it may help to stroke their hair

that night, staring at the lock of hair that has fallen against rook's cheek, lucanis swallows his nerves and gently smooths it behind their ear. rook lets out a soft sigh and nuzzles closer against his leg, so he lets his fingertips linger. when he lifts them, it's only to turn his hand slightly so his knuckles can brush against their temple. he loses track of how many journeys his hand takes along the silken path, but eventually he lifts it and clears his throat

"rook," he whispers. he cannot seem to speak any louder. spite watches him with a sharp gaze. "you should go back to bed"

a barely there huff. a quiet grumble that may just be the couch shifting. but then rook sits up and then stands and then makes their way to the door

once it closes behind them, lucanis lets out a breath and runs his hand down his face. only then does he realize it's trembling

[shaymincafe]

Ask Karma

Okay so since we're dispensing advice into the community for our newer members, I thought I'd throw my hat into the ring with an ask blog etiquette item that I think people have somewhat neglected recently: ask karma.

Ask karma is the practice of sending asks back to people who have sent you one. When someone sends you an ask, it is generally expected that you will send one back in return. It is to your mutual benefit to do this since now not only do both of you have asks in your inbox to work with, but it also exposes your blogs to each others' followers and can potentially gain you new readers.

Ask Calls are a Two-Way Street

Generally speaking, when someone makes an ask call, you should view it as a quid pro quo situation. Unless the person explicitly states in the post otherwise, they usually wants asks back in return for the ones they're sending out. While this is not always the case, like with me where I have way too many asks already and don't need more, more often than not, this is the expectation and it's bad form to not do so.

It's the equivalent of borrowing someone's pencil in school and never giving it back. At the end of the day, it's not super consequential, but the person whose pencil you just took isn't going to be super happy that they gave that to you and got nothing in return. You feel me?

This is especially true for written blogs, who I have noticed tend to get hit by this the most. Written blogs can get through their posts a lot faster than most art blogs and therefore need asks more often. But they also tend to get a lot fewer asks!

I experienced it myself during the PokeAskMagi event where I sent out around 20 asks from @askthewhiterocket and got back 7 in total for the entire event. By comparison, Shaymin Cafe also sent out around 20 asks and got approximately 12 in return. Not a lot more but it's still a better ROI especially consider Shaymin Cafe was the far less active of the two blogs during the event.

Everyone who sent an ask to Ask the White Rocket also sent one to Shaymin Cafe, despite the majority of the blogs I interacted with getting asks from BOTH of my blogs. In addition, during my final ask call for Ask the White Rocket, I got 1 ask in return for like 5 sent out, even after explicitly stating that the inbox was empty and I wanted asks.

I realize Shaymin Cafe is a popular blog and since I had two blogs, people probably ended up just sending an ask to the more popular blog of the two since Shaymes is a fun character and such. But the same thing happened last year when Shaymes wasn't even an active character and I was really only answering asks from Kyo's blog. To be quite frank, that's unfair to the written blogs, and unfair to me too.

It takes time to send asks. Ask hints make it easier, sure, but not everyone has them. Additionally, not all ask hints are incredibly straight forward. Some require you to read a bit in the blog's backlog if you aren't familiar with it to craft an ask that a person can work with (this is why I tend to link stuff with my ask hints). Some people might also want to double check the rules of a blog first or read up on the characters to ensure they're not sending a human character to a blog that doesn't allow them, or a Gengar to a character with trauma from ghost-types without expressed permission from the creator first. This goes doubly so when you're sending asks out from multiple blogs, like I was during the event.

That effort should not go unrewarded, so the least you can do is send an ask in return! It's just good manners.

This also goes for Munday asks

Admittedly, I am pretty bad about this myself, so we're going a little pot calling kettle black, BUT it's generally good form to also send Munday asks back to people who send them to you. Now if they're not open to Munday asks or w/e then no sweat it's fine, but let's be real, we all like to yap. We all like to talk about our characters. We all enjoy answering Munday asks, so spread the love and send asks back to people who send them to you.

Part of the reason I don't really make the effort to send out Munday asks much anymore and part of why I don't open for Munday as frequently either is candidly I got very tired of sending out like a dozen Munday asks to everyone I saw open for Mundays and then getting like... 2 in return. There were a couple weeks back in like July-August were I quite literally got 0 Munday asks, and it was incredibly disheartening. Like, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed coming up with questions for other people, but it was also a total downer to sit there the entire day waiting for asks to come in and then never getting any. Not even one asking how my day was or how my weekend went. Total and complete silence.

And sure, thinking of questions is hard, I get it! You wanna know my secret? When I was sending out Munday asks regularly, I googled first date questions or improv icebreakers. There's so many great questions to ask people from those. Sure, they can be be incredibly shallow and I'm sure any veteran ask blogger whose been at this a while has probably asked and answered whether they like coffee or tea better. But I'd rather answer that ask for like the fourth time than get nothing because then I'd at least get the opportunity to talk about my thoughts on both for a minute.

This also goes quadrupley so for the memes. There are times where I see people reblogging memes and going the whole day without any interaction because they're a smaller blog. And I'll admit, I straight up have sometimes gone on anon and sent them like three asks back to back because I didn't want them to feel like no one cared about them or their characters. They deserve to get a bunch of asks too, that's part of the fun!

And I think with memes the not sending asks in return is far less excusable because usually there's emojis or numbers that you can literally just copy and paste into the ask box. I cannot tell you how many times I saw blogs I'd never met before reblogging a meme post and it took me all of five minutes to go pick a random emoji and a name from their cast page and drop that into their inbox. It is quite literally that easy.

You should also, generally speaking, send an ask to the person you got the meme from too. Whether they were the one who created it or simply just brought it into popularity, sending them an ask for the meme is a nice way to say thank you for letting you use it too. It took time and effort to create and/or find that meme, and I guarantee you they did not do it simply because they wanted other people to use it on their own blogs. They did it so THEY could answer asks from it on their OWN blog. So give them the opportunity to!

FAQ

The blog I want to send an ask to has (insert species of character) and my blog doesn't interact with that (or vice versa).

That's fine! You don't have to send an ask in character if you don't want to. Sure that's the norm, but if the casts of your blogs are incompatible for some reason, then by all means just don't send an in character ask.

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have readily available/up to date asks hints.

You have a couple options here. You can read back through the blog to see what has recently happened to get a feel for what might be a good ask. If you're lucky maybe they'll have a taglist somewhere that'll make backtracking easy. But if not, skimming is fine too. Otherwise, just directly DM the blog and ask them what kind of ask they want. I've done this several times and that can be a great way to get a blog exactly what ask their looking for.

The blog I want to send a Munday ask to is doing a meme I don't want to engage with.

Send them a normal question then! I guarantee you they wouldn't be opposed to answering something opposed to the meme, and even if they don't respond, they'll at least know you tried to return their ask.

The blog that sent me an ask said in their ask call they don't want asks in return.

No need to send one back then! If they said they don't want any, then they aren't expecting any in return. I do this all the time! Sometimes we just like sending out asks for fun and that's a-okay!

The blog I want to send an ask to has closed their inbox.

That's okay! In this instance, it is perfectly reasonable to not send an ask in return. If they've closed their inbox, they're likely not expecting asks back. So you're totally in the clear to not send one in return. No need to go crawling through their submission box to send one in (people actually don't usually like this). Just maybe keep an eye out in the future for if their inbox reopens!

Unless they like explicitly made a post asking for asks within like the last day. In that case please tell them because they probably forgot to open it again (happens more often than you think).

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have an organization system making their story, characters, hints, and other materials used in ask crafting difficult to find.

In that case, the burden lies with that blog, not you. Organization is EXTREMELY important. Skins covers this a bit in their ask blog advice post. Having easily accessible tag lists, ask hints, and casts pages can really help with getting asks sent your way. In the same way it isn't fair to someone to not send asks in return, it's equally unfair to make someone scroll through a bunch of meme reblogs just find materials to send an ask with.

The best you can do in this situation is message the blog to ask them for what they want. But if the materials to craft the ask aren't readily available to you, that is on them not you.

In short, please exercise Ask Karma. If someone sends you an ask, please send one back! Thank you!

[halfmoonshines]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

bucky barnes x f!reader

summary: he loved you, you both knew it, but his insides were twisted into something that you might not be able to untangle.

((heavily based on the song by ts))

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

The sky was a beautiful pale pink that betrayed the crispness to the air, as if your almost frozen cheeks didn't already tell you that it was near freezing out.

Bucky had been standing on this balcony for almost an hour, and you knew it down to the minute because you couldn't help but hover when he got like this. You didn't want him to be alone, wanted to be near in case he finally decided he needed someone to talk to that wasn't a court mandated therapist.

He never did, so your brunch plans with old college classmates got cancelled and you spent your late morning huddled in the sliding glass doorway that leads to the wraparound balcony from your bedroom.

Your fiancee's hands were clenched tightly around the wood of the balcony, shoulders hunched. You would wonder if he was frozen in place if you couldn't see the occasional huff of his breath against the chill. You didn't want to reach out and touch him for fear of scaring him when his mind retreated this way, but the more time you spent in the shadow of his pain you had no clue how to help him.

"Buck? I'm going to put some coffee on." A safe option. He loved coffee almost as much as he loved her, maybe even more. Maybe the temptation of both would pull him back into the waiting embrace of their home.

"I'll be in soon, babe."

You tried not to be disappointed when you walked inside alone.

---

It was a bad day. You knew it as soon as he walked in from a day of meetings and appointments, not his favorite days by any stretch normally but something must have happened to lock him down even harder before he got home.

You startled against your will when the front door slammed shut, poking your head around the corner of the kitchen to see the tightly pulled shoulders turning sharply into your bedroom, that door shutting with a resounding crack as well.

You wipe slightly shaking hands on a kitchen towel, quickly debating whether or not you were going to go in there and remind him that he had volunteered the both of you to help Sam out with a double date tonight.

A glance at your watch says you have maybe thirty minutes to leave to avoid being late.

You pushed open the door to your shared bedroom before you could think better of it and quickly heard the running of water through the cracked bathroom door. You pushed your way in, leaning your back against the bathroom sink.

"Bucky? You know we have to leave soon for that thing with Sam, right?"

He was silent for a beat too long, but you knew that he heard you. Super soldiers were like that.

"Can you text him and let him know that I got banged up at work today? I'm not going to be able to go out tonight." His voice was an octave lower than usual, a gravel to it that told you he had been crying.

Disappointment weighs heavy in your stomach, the prickling behind your eyes both annoying and infuriating you. He had dropped these plans on you not three days ago, at which time you had to reschedule the hesitant dinner you had with your parents every few weeks. It felt like it was too often lately, that you had to keep bending to accommodate the way he carried the weight of it all.

And now you were the one who had to go break the news to your friend, who was probably already on his way to where they were going to meet.

You leave the bathroom without a word.

---

Later that night, when you're both laying in bed and he has you splayed across his chest, tucked safely under his chin - he apologizes.

"I know that I haven't been the easiest to work with lately, doll." He rubs lazy circles over the back of your hand, the rumble of his voice comforting in the darkness of the room.

You think, for just a moment before you reply, whether or not you'll admit that it's begun to wear on you. But you decide better of it. You've just been tired lately, surely. You will always be there to help through his struggles.

"It's okay. I understand it's hard sometimes. I just wish you would talk to me a bit more. It would make it easier." Some of the truth then.

Bucky continued in his touch. "I know. I'll try."

----

This was one of the good days. Not every day with Bucky was a struggle, not by a long shot, but his dark days were so opaque that they were difficult to see through.

These days were your silver lining.

The first thing you smelled was bacon, and that was always a good sign. It meant Bucky had already completed whatever he needed to for the day, and you were going to do something. Anything.

Bucky loved to plan days out; whether it was a nice nature walk somewhere outside the city and a good dinner spot or a drive down the coast, he enjoyed planning things for you and you loved letting him take control of the day.

You were quick to dress and get out to the kitchen, opting for a pair of warm leggings and a sweater considering the still dipping temperatures.

He grins at you as soon as you round the counter and it almost disarms you. Those small dimples, the way that his blue eyes warm from the arctic they are by default. He only looks at you that way, and sends you spinning every time.

"I assume we have a plan for the day?" You wrap your arms around his waist from the back, head dipping forward to rest between his shoulders. You're hit with a small pang of exhaustion, but shake it off. Bucky had a rough night last night; which was why this was so surprising. The nightmares had been hard and he had been up way too late, and so had you by extension. How could you sleep peacefully knowing he was sitting up next to you, haunted like an old house?

Bucky sets the spatula down and turns in your arms, his own coming to blanket over you. "You bet. There's a new music museum that opened down state; and I was thinking we could go to that pasta place you've been talking about for lunch after?"

Your eyes widened instantly. "The one with the gigantic cheese wheel?"

Bucky's smile widened. "The very same."

Your laugh is almost a squeal as you peel away from him, a little hop to your step when you wiggle around him to stir at the burning scrambled eggs. "You go shower and change then sir, I'll finish breakfast."

He presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. "Yes, ma'am."

It was an amazing day. You were thoroughly exhausted, fighting against the flutter of your lashes during the drive home.

"You're like a kid that gets taken on a field trip babe, you always fall asleep on the way home." Bucky's hand was warm on your thigh, thumb rubbing those familiar circles.

Your answering smile was wry, the need to sleep tugging at the corners. "We were both up all night, Buck, I don't know where you get the energy."

You don't notice his thumb stop moving.

"You were awake?"

You settled farther down into the cars seat, nodding a bit. "How can I sleep knowing that you can't, babe? I stayed up in case you needed me."

Bucky was silent for the rest of the drive but you were asleep too quickly to notice.

----

He was late coming home and you thought this might be the one time that you were truly furious. You were used to the gig; you knew that his job didn't have a clock out time, and that sometimes things just took longer than expected.

Not tonight. The expectations had been so clear. You had been so clear. No, you needed to stand your ground on it.

You sat roiling in emotions at the dressed up dining room table, your third glass of wine steadily emptying in your hand, staring at the text lit up on your phone. Sam informing you that Bucky had left the facility over two hours ago, and now wondering if he should be worried about his friend. Said they had a rough day. You almost wanted to scoff. Almost. The facility that was a ten minute drive home. He was already two hours late when he left there.

How long until the waiting was pathetic? The candles had burned down over an hour ago, food well passed cold but maybe that was your fault for relying on the time he told you. It wasn't your anniversary or anything like that; instead it was an attempt to celebrate a day that was otherwise terrible for you. An accident had taken your birth mother and brother when you were a teenager and usually, you spent every December 2nd rotting in bed - that was until Bucky found out about your little ritual and insisted on making the day about celebrating them instead. The first two years were beautiful, and worked. This was his second year missing it.

You were so angry.

The front door clicked shut and your head to look down the hallway, watching your fiancee walk up the hallway shrouded in darkness. His face had it's own cloud, brows pinched tightly together.

For the first time in your relationship, the sight of his haggard appearance did nothing to tamper the anger simmering in your stomach.

"Welcome home."

A muscle jumped in the dark haired mans jaw, hands clenching at his sides. "I know you're upset that I'm late, and there's no excuse for it."

Your chair pushed angrily out from the table before he could finish, wine glass discarded. "I'm not upset, James, I'm furious."

He visibly flinched. "And you have every right to be. It was a rough day with a mission involving somewhere I remember from," He gave a gulp. "And I let it work me up. I'm sor-"

Oh, you were so far gone. The sleepless nights, worry filled hours, and embarrassing late arrivals were stacking onto your shoulders like a fucked up Eiffel tower.

"You're right." You pushed past him into the hallway, heading towards your shared room. "I have every right to be, and right now I don't think I really want to hear whatever it is you're going to say to try and explain it away. Do us both a favor and sleep in the guest room tonight." You were the one slamming the bedroom door this time.

The tears came quickly, whatever semblance of composure you had slipping away with any sense you had that this was okay.

On opposite sides of the door, you have the same thought.

Is this it?

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

this kind of got away from me >.>

[roachliquid]

An incredibly pernicious anti-transmasc argument that keeps making the rounds is that everything we do was plagiarized from trans women.

Coining a term to describe our unique and gendered experiences of oppression? We're just copying trans women.

Complain that we're often rejected from queer circles for our perceived violent maleness? We're just parroting what's happened to trans women.

Forcemasc fetish blogs? We're just copying One Specific Trans Woman-Run Blog that got popular.

These claims are annoying on their own, but together they paint a clear picture of what transandrophobes want you to believe: that trans men and transmascs are incapable of creating anything ourselves, or if we did, it would have nothing in common with what trans women and fems are doing. The function of these claims is to convince you that trans people of seemingly opposite identities are equally opposite in experiences, and any evidence to the contrary is actually cultural appropriation fueled by jealousy.

This is gender essentialism. It's fueled by the radical feminist belief that "woman" and "man" are not so much terms that get abused to justify people's oppression as they are positions in a class conflict, one where All Men seek and/or directly benefit from the oppression of All Women, and that indeed, manhood and womanhood themselves are defined by this relationship to one another. To be a man is to be an entitled parasite; to be a woman is to be an overworked victim.

That notion is racist and transphobic on the face of it, and that is equally obvious in these arguments about trans men - all of which are predicated on the idea that the average trans man is white, well-off, and able to go stealth whenever necessary, and therefore benefits from the maximum amount of male privilege a trans man can be afforded. Following from that logic, any trans man or that you encounter online can be reasonably assumed to share that experience, and any mention he might make of trans men who fail to meet those qualifications is nothing more than a rhetorical cudgel that we use to deny our own privilege.

I'm sure you can see the problem there.

It's not surprising that I typically see these claims made by white women, frequently about Black and Indigenous men. Speaking from the perspective of a white person, it can be very easy to fall into a trap of thinking that our specific experiences with oppression makes us general experts, and grow defensive when someone provides knowledge that shows we were wrong. It can like we're being victimized on the basis of the oppression we do have, and it can be incredibly hard to stop, listen, and admit that we fucked up. This is doubly difficult when the person criticizing us is a member of a demographic that seemingly contributes to the oppression we face.

But just because we think it's happening doesn't always make it so. Yes, there are times when people are acting in bad faith, or overlooking their own areas of ignorance - to err, as they say, is human. But often, we're the ones in the wrong, and need to recognize that fact before acting. So where do we draw the line?

The thing that I've always found crucial is to stop, breathe, and think. We have to honestly ask ourselves whether the other party is saying "your experiences are not real", or just "your understanding of these issues isn't as all-encompassing as you assumed". Simply asking yourself "am I really being harmed, or do I just feel like I'm being harmed?" can often save you from a massive foot-in-mouth situation.

It's necessary to remember that people whose identities are different from our own have their own experience and knowledge. Unless they are coming out and telling us what problems we do or don't have, we need to trust that they're coming from a place of good faith and genuine knowledge, and be willing to listen and change our minds if necessary.

We have to make ourselves comfortable with the fact that we are not always the most, or only, important voice in the room.

That's something that a lot of anti-transmasc women love to remind us, and I wouldn't say they're always wrong. Simply being a man can and often does incentivize people to engage in misogyny, to talk over women and disregard their experiences, when we find them uncomfortable or irrelevant. Again - everybody fucks up sometimes. But it crosses a line when you start demanding that courtesy from others while refusing to extend it back to them; when you treat any information they offer as automatically inferior or entirely invalid, based solely on their perceived relationship to privilege.

In fact, doing so is literally an ad hominem argument.

Aside from that, I must point out that these arguments are being employed specifically to silence trans men's and mascs' voices. This is not an honest misunderstanding; it's an act of profound self-centeredness at best and outright malice at worst. How do I know this? Well, stop me if you've ever heard one of these before:

"Women don't have real interests; they just like silly frivolous things. Men's hobbies are real and meaningful."

"Women are inherently wired to be emotional. Men are logical and level-headed. I'm not sexist, it's just science."

"If you hear a woman say anything smart, you can bet she learned it from a man."

These, too, are silencing tactics, historically (and currently!) used to devalue and silence the voices of women. In fact, they're things that I have personally heard and been affected by, as a trans man who has spent the vast majority of my life being seen and treated as a woman.

I didn't fall for it then, and I sure ain't falling for it now.

[pupkinpumpkin]

I love thinking about that one war table operation in The Frostback Basin called A Cultured Exchange where you recruit that one lady named Sigrid Gulsdotten who has a spirit best friend possessing her bc

1) Inquisition diversity, we love to see it

2) Leads to a stronger alliance with the Avvar and a better understanding of their culture, we love to see it

3) Its probably the war operation where Cullen is the most against it, and I don't mean that in a "haha fuck Cullen" way; I actively romance Cullen any chance I get so thats definitely not what I mean when I say that but no, I love thinking of the implications

Like, despite a cultural exchange being a very good thing for the Inquisition, Cullen's gonna fight tooth and nail for Sigrid to be watched and monitored bc ya know, he still gets nightmares about what happened in Kinloch Hold and now he's watching the Inquisitor accept an abomination with Open Arms (iykyk)

That's gonna freak him the fuck out and lead to some arguments at the war table, which is FASCINATING if Cullen and the Inquisitor are together

Give me the arguments! Give me the angst! Give me Cullen honestly feeling a bit betrayed bc he's opened up so much about what he's been through and now he finds out via a hidden note on a report that the love of his life just accepted an abomination into the Inquisition and hid it in a report instead of sending him a personal letter (which my Inky does often) warning him ahead of time

I've thought about this one mission so much

Like, Cullen and my Lavellan are actively arguing in front of Leliana and Josephine and they're trying to keep it professional but it's clear that the reason behind this argument is a lot more personal than either one is willing to say and MMMM THE ANGST

They eventually go into a separate room, argue it out some more, lay down the exact personal reasons behind this argument, eventually apologize to each other, and make a compromise where Cole, Varric, and Cassandra are sent to watch Sigrid during the cultural exchange Josie sets up and update Cullen specifically about the event

Cole's able to feel any negative vibes, Cassandra is a Seeker trained to deal with mages, and Varric is there for emotional support for Cole since he's more human now and might get overwhelmed with so many people seeing him and also him feeling their feelings. Varric's also just there for the fun of the event and to sell his book. Cassandra's in charge of writing the reports though

But ya, this operation has so much potential to me

[ilikekidsshows]

It doesn't happen often but sometimes I see people say "core four" as a way to group together Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino and I just have to scoff at the idea, especially now. I've seen similar titles applied to other media but it usually refers to groups that are actually a team. ML isn't really a teamwork show anymore. It's just about Marinette who sometimes brings Alya along, rarely respects Chat as a teammate, let alone someone she claims is her partner, and Nino is typically forgotten and the last time he wasn't, they basically made him liability to the sercret identity thing.

There is no "core four" because having a "core" group would require there to be equal focus on the members of that group. That's not how it is in Miraculous. They can't have a character do anything without shoving Marinette in and making her look like she's incapable of minding her own business. We've already seen that Marinette was ready to replace Chat Noir until she decided that she needed to have a mini wangst fest about it and cry until he came back. There isn't a team or anything now, it's just Marinette and her minions.

---

While I wouldn’t say a core cast of characters necessarily requires equal focus, since even ensemble shows tend to have one main focus character, you do require characters to have more focus than the rest of the cast to claim they’re special in any way, whether it’s called “core” characters or “main” characters. You are absolutely correct that Miraculous can’t even manage that, since it notoriously can’t even manage to give its second title character more focus than side characters. As such, your criticism of using this term for Miraculous’ notorious “Marinette and her puppet theater” cast is 100% accurate. Like, Nino barely shows up more than the rest of the classmates, and that’s mostly because he’s dating Alya and helping her and Alya get Adrien with Marinette, which just makes this “core four” dynamic exist in Adrinette scenes, that were mostly “let’s trick Adrien into spending time with Marinette”. Not very “core cast” to me.

I think the core four idea might have been born either from that shipping dynamic, or the first S6 episode we saw, which showed Alya and Nino being very proactive as heroes. It gave off the idea that these two are a larger part of things than they are but, like, Sublimation is now out as well, and Nino was a no-show. Besides, as of the reboot, Adrien isn’t core anything. We have two episodes with no transformation sequence for him, and Plagg only showed up in one of those for a single line about it being snacktime. Adrien is barely a character, and Plagg is barely a cameo.

Miraculous could arguably have a core duo now, and that’s Marinette and Alya. Alya is involved in both of the S6 episodes we’ve seen so far. She’s presented as the cool, competent and collected foil to Marinette’s spiralling mess and she’s being set up to take on as leader once Marinette crashes and burns. If that’s the route they’re going, this new story arc would clearly just be about Marinette and Alya, Nino and Adrien have no space in it as anything more than “the boyfriends of the characters the actual plot happens with”. Although, since I have no faith in this show, I’m convinced it’s still “Marinette and her most useful tool plus the rest of the puppets” and they’re not going to commit to the idea of Alya stepping up and taking up any of the spotlight, instead merely acting as Marinette’s sounding board and biggest cheerleader.

[beanieable]

It’s time for TMNT headcanons again!

Here’s the first post I made a while ago.

This has been in my drafts for a few months now, so have at it.

2003

Donnie went down a deep rabbit hole on the multiverse after Turtles Forever. Raph had to listen to him talk about and eventually drag him away form the whole thing every time.

Leo and Mikey have spots under their eyes. They’re a lighter shade of green than their scales. You can’t see them usually because of their masks.

In turn, Raph and Donnie have spots on the palm of their hands. Donnie on his left, Raph on his right. If they hold hands the spots over lap. The spots look like little hearts.

Raph and Donnie are twins. Change my mind. The og disaster twins. They walked to Rise disaster twins could run.

2012

Puppy dog eyes work wonders on Leo. All his brothers use it against him, even Raph.

Raph has a heart shaped spot in his shoulder. Donnie has one to match him on his neck.

(Jonatello) Casey kisses the heart spot on Donnie’s neck a lot. He loves doing that.

Leo actually has some faint freckles like Mikey. They just faded out as he got older. If they stay at the farmhouse long enough in summer and go out in day time, they’ll be more visible.

Raph and Donnie are twins. Anger Management Duo my beloved. As the middle children with anger issues they were in time out a lot and one day just decided they were twins.

They made Mikey think they have twin thelepahy. He still believes it years later. Leo believed it for a hot minute too.

They solely became twins to spite their brothers. Mikey was obsessed with the idea of twins for a bit and Leo thought it’s cool too. While Raph and Donnie didn’t really care for the idea, Leo and Mikey got them stuck in time out. Mikey pranked them, they wanted revenge and Leo snitched. Mikey and Leo can’t have a twin if the middle children are twins. 😈

Rise

Donnie and Leo need glasses. But only Donnie wore them when they were kids. Nowadays they mostly wear contacts but they do wear their glasses often too. Mainly when they’re at home.

All four brothers the same happy stim. They wag their tails. I wrote a fic where I included that. Here. But basically it started like this, when Raph was just a normal turtle he found wagging his tail fun and just did it. Then the twins can along and copied him and then Mikey copied them as well. And despite their mutation it just stayed.

Raph turning savage is not really a thing anymore post Season 2 finale. The turtles can feel each others ninpo and knowing his brothers are always with him in a way helps keep his separation anxiety in check. It might still happen but it’s also easier to snap him out of it now.

The turtles are bilingual. They know English and Japanese. Obviously Leo also knows Spanish. They spoke more Japanse growing up, until they met April. They also taught April Japanese. Cassandra is Latina/Korean and knows English, Spanish and Korean as her native languages but learned Japanese when she joined the Foot. CJ knows all four languages, always has. In the bad timeline Cass only spoke Korean with him, April only English, Leo only Spanish and Raph only Japanese. Mikey and Donnie spoke both English and Japanese with him.

Medic Leo. But also, full blown doctor Leo. After the movie he, with Draxums help, got a doctorate degree in the Hidden City.

As much as Leo enjoys being a doctor and fixing people he’s also very interested in dissecting things. He almost dissected Warren once. Raph stopped him. But no one knows if he’ll try doing it again. Spoiler: he will.

Older twin Donnie supremacy here. That said, he may be second oldest but he has no authority over the other two.

Tales/MM

Donnie got April into K-Dramas. They watch them together.

The reason Raph is missing a tooth is Mikey. Mikey accidentally knocked him over the head with his nunchucks and Raph stumbled into a pole. Then he tooth was gone.

Mikey is the medic in this one. I just thought it’d be cool since he he seemed pretty interested in it during the mechazoid arc.

[differenteagletragedy]

The thing where you're Price's neighbor -- you move in while he's on leave, and he meets you while you're moving the few belongings you have into your new place. He's good at reading people and can sense that you're sad and broken, despite the tentative smile you give him when you shake his hand.

And it's not like there's some immediate spark. You're pretty, sure, and sometimes he might sneak a little look while he's walking behind you up the stairs when the elevator goes out again, but he's not falling in love.

Not yet, anyway.

It's not until one night, just before he's set to leave again, that he starts to think maybe this could be something. When he begins to toy with the idea that he might let himself feel something real for you.

He hears you crying through his bedroom wall. He's been in your apartment a few times, helping you bring in your groceries, little neighborly things like that, so he knows your home mirrors his own. He can almost imagine you there, laying in your bed, crying over whatever had happened to make you look so small and sorrowful all the time.

It's hard to hear, but he's made a living out of doing things that are too hard for most people. But then he hears one particularly pitiful sob, a little hitch in your breath as you cry, and it's enough for him to pull a pair of jeans on and knock on your door.

You're embarrassed when you answer it, and you try to make it look like you weren't crying, but something in the warm, knowing look in his eyes, the small, tight smile he gives you sets you off again, and before you know it, he's ushering you out of your apartment and into his, guiding you to sit on his couch and moving into the kitchen.

"I'll make you some tea, love," he tells you in his quiet, gruff voice. "You just sit tight."

"John, you don't have to, it's late and --"

He cuts you off with a chuckle, glancing to you from behind the counter as he asks, "You really think you could make me do something I didn't want to do?"

You give in -- of course you couldn't -- and soon he's sitting on the other end of the couch, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he waits. He gives you a choice to talk about it if you want, or to quietly enjoy his company if you don't.

But you're tired, both physically and of feeling this way, and so you unload everything. How you moved here after a rough breakup, your ex was a jerk who didn't want to let go. He'd called you again earlier, which was what had gotten you upset.

And Price listens to all of it. Even as he feels a surge of anger at the thought of someone making you -- sweet, soft little you -- feel that way. He lets you get it all out, and when you're done, he can't help but reach out a hand to give you a light tap on your shoulder.

"Well, pet, I'll tell you what," he says softly. "Next time he calls, you come give the phone to me, yeah?"

It feels protective, the way he says it, like he wants to keep you safe. It's sweet, and it makes you smile. A real smile this time, one that finally meets your eyes.

And there it is -- the moment that John knows he's all in.

You talk for a while longer, more lighthearted conversation that flows easily. It lasts long enough that by the time you leave to go back to your apartment and back to bed, he realizes that it makes more sense to stay awake until it's time to leave.

He's gone for weeks on a mission, and so much of the time, his mind wanders back to you. How that smile lit up your face, and how he wanted nothing more than to bring that smile out as often as he could. He dreams up ways he'll tell you how he feels, plans out different scenarios for how you might react.

It's almost tactical, how much thought he puts into it. But, for better or for worse, he's a man with a plan. And by the time he gets back home, he has what he feels like is a foolproof one.

The plan goes out the window when he knocks on your door and is greeted by a man. A tall, thin man he could break over his knee if he wanted to (and in that moment, he very much wants to).

Price asks for you, nervous for a moment that you'd somehow moved out in the time he was gone and that this man is his new neighbor, but then the man turns and calls out your name, and you walk out from the bedroom.

You won't meet his eyes, and he understands immediately what's going on -- this man is your ex, who seems to have weaseled his way back into your life.

Price clears his throat, looking down at you.

"Just came to check on you, love," he says quietly. "Wanted to let you know I'm back."

You do look at him then, and smile softly at him, but it's not the beautiful, radiant one he'd thought about so often while he was away. No, it's the fake one. It's meaningless, a perfunctory twitch of muscle.

You're broken again.

That simply won't do, will it?

[lightlycareless]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8L9nuR5/

I saw this and I thought what if something similar happened with Naomi and Naoya while he played the piano for her 🥺 Do you think Naoya would play frequently for his kids?

Heya anon!

Awww, this is so cute 😭😭😭 AND YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS he would!!!! Of course!!!! akghagkaga ok let's get to the good part.

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya have 4 kids. a happy marriage do not come for me

Happy reading!

Undoubtedly, Naoya plays the piano to his kids.

But it wasn’t like that in the beginning; in fact, he was quite unsure if his kids would find enjoyment in something he once considered tedious. Weren’t children supposed to be all for energetic, exhausting activities?

However, Naoya’s quickly proven wrong after you encourage him enough to consider otherwise: you just had to tell him it would be another excellent opportunity to bond, get to know him a bit better, and of course, show off just how cool their papa is (once again).

“You think they’d like it?” Naoya quietly asks one last time, just to be sure. “I do not wish to bore them, I’d rather—.”

“Of course they will. They’re my kids.” You smile, referring to the day he serenaded you when feeling under the weather. Naoya could be extremely romantic when it came to it, holding this moment very dearly in your heart.

So, taking that into consideration, it was safe to assume they would love it too.

Besides, it wasn’t that hard to please your kids when considering just how happy they were to spend time with their often-absent father. The same man that always went above and beyond to make up for all the time days he’s missed when away for work, thus, an opportunity they could not dare waste.

And Naoya loved every single one of those moments too, he really did. To be with his children earned him a kind of fulfillment no title, nor promotion, or successful mission could ever provide!

… But spending time with them while playing the piano, though, might just be the exception.

Sure, he loved seeing their starstruck faces whenever showing what a particularly talented musician he was (just like in everything else he put his mind into), followed by their chubby little hands trying to jump from one octave to the other, earning him the title of giant! And why are your hands so big? And of course, watching them to play along him…

Yet, those moments became scarce once they found out they could use him as their own personal musician, someone they could dump all their song requests, and he had no other choice but to oblige. From the theme song of their favorite tv show, to whatever tune crossed their mind, Naoya became the kind of dejected servant that would place all his efforts to fulfill their every whim.

Even going as far as agreeing to join their small band of sorts, one that seemed to run on a tight schedule when it came to rehearsals (Rehearsals!!) evenfor such a casual thing.

“Come on, papa!! We have to practice if we want to get the song right this time!!” Naori exclaimed, grabbing him by the hand and running towards the studio. Naoya… well, he didn’t have many options, did he?

“Did you practice?” Naoko asks. “Because last time you got all the notes wrong, and that's unacceptable!”

His children were undoubtedly taking this activity far more seriously than anything else they’ve indulged in the past, and Naoya didn’t know whether to be impressed by their dedication, or slightly concerned…

But he supposes it wasn’t all too bad. Not when he still got to see their big, round eyes slowly growing heavy once their exuberant rehearsals began to take a toll on them, falling victim to his calming music that lulled them to instinctively gather around the couch, lay down, and finally fall asleep.

A smile can’t help but part his lips, admiring the sight of his tired yet well cared for children, and all that it represented on a bigger scale.

“I guess they do like it when I play the piano.” Naoya murmurs to you after putting the kids to bed.

“How couldn’t they? It’s their loving papa who’s playing for them!” you smile, standing on your toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “But as much as I enjoy seeing all of you get along, I still gotta talk to them about cutting you some slack, you don’t look too… well when you’re done.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? I’m fine!” He asks, perhaps genuinely oblivious of the bags forming underneath his eyes, or the occasional twitching of his left eyelid. Is this the first time the great Naoya Zen’in has ever faced the possibility of disappointing his children?

Certainly so, but, well—such are the joys of parenthood.

🥹🥹🥹 naoya would play to little naomi when she was a baby, you'd just carry her while she's all fuzzy, unable to sleep, and then your husband starts playing and she's completely knocked out. 😭😭😭it's the domestic things y'all....

Anyways, I hope you were able to enjoy this little thing hehe. I'm trying to write more of the rest of the kids you two have, not that I don't loooove Naomi, but I think the others deserve a bit of the spotlight 🙈

Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[aziraphales-library]

Thank you to all the mods for the time put into this blog! I’m looking for any fics where Aziraphale comforts Crowley after having to spend a long or difficult time in Hell. Or maybe after having to complete a difficult assignment that’s more demonic or hellish than his usual style. I also love it when the fics are set before the show/book like 1970s and backwards but I’m not picky about that bit! Thanks again :)

You will find fics of interest on #hell is terrible and #hurt crowley tags. Here are some combining the two. Mind the tags!...

In Deep Shadow by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

“S’ really not…” Crowley paused to cough, and blood spattered the floor. “Not that bad.” Aziraphale gave him a pained look and eased him to sit on a chair by the fireplace. “My dear fellow, you’re covered in blood and bruises. I-I must admit, it does look that bad.”

This Hurt That I'm Holding's Gettin' Heavy by Loki_Slytherin (T)

After yet another terrible trip to hell, Crowley collapses into Aziraphale's arms, letting his angel ease the pain away. Aziraphale might not be able to stop the other demon's hurting Crowley, but he can offer him comfort in the aftermath of it.

Little Angelic Miracle of My Own by gallifreyshawkeye (T)

As he walks away, furious at, and scared for Crowley after their argument in St. James's Park in 1862, Aziraphale realises that nothing about Crowley is really quite right. In fact, everything about the demon should have been screaming to him that something is really wrong. When Aziraphale goes to Crowley to make things right, he finds the demon in more desperate need of help than he imagined.

for what it's worth by elliesmusings (T)

Hell didn't take too kindly to losing the bet.

trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life by midnightdragons (T)

"How long have you been sick, Crowley?" Aziraphale pressed, keeping the tremor from his voice as he steadied his hands, brushing back sweaty hair from the demon's clammy, too-hot forehead. This was not the first time Hell had punished Crowley like this; they were cruel, far too often, and not in the passive-aggressive ways Heaven was, but in the ways that left Crowley shaking and crying out in pain, just as he was now. 

Aziraphale is helping people in the 1300s during the Black Plague epidemic in Europe, and finds a familiar face hiding in the shadows of a sick house ... in need of help of his own.

keep the earth below my feet (for all my sweat, my blood runs weak) by Elle_dubs, shadoweddepths

“A-Aziraphale,” Crowley stutters, a bit helplessly. He looks – lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do, or say, or think. So Aziraphale makes the decision. He steps forward, reaches out with his hands. Places them both on Crowley’s shoulders before he can step back again. Underneath his touch, the demon freezes. He’s so still, so unmoving, that Aziraphale is certain he’s even stopped breathing again. Has he gotten it wrong? He was so sure, after what happened at the wedding – but Crowley is frozen beneath his touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do. But then �� it’s like a dam breaking. Like it’s too much, all at once. Crowley crumples forward. Collapses into Aziraphale’s arms, all the strength gone out of his limbs. His arms end up slung across Aziraphale’s shoulders, hands locked together behind Aziraphale’s head. There’s no – he doesn’t make a sound, but the raw agony on his face, the sheer openness of it, says more than words ever could. “I’ve got you,” Aziraphale says, now sounding a bit helpless himself. “You’re alright, Crowley.” (When Crowley returns from his laudanum-induced trip to Hell, Aziraphale helps pick up the pieces.)

- Mod D

[rollercoasterwords]

i rember seeing you update your tags with memory loss and my heart dropped lol it’s always been one of my biggest fears and you mercilessly explored it (and specifically how it affected relationships) and it was terrifying and beautiful and wonderful

the way you write memory loss haunts

me i love your writing so much im in awe and uh have a wondrous day 😭

hiiiii thank u yeah i have. many thoughts about memory loss clearly lol

i think in general part of what compels me is that i feel as though there is a very prevalent message that we should think of life as a linear journey through time, moving from past to future, and also that the meaning of life is evaluated in ways tied to that linear concept of time--i.e., the idea that death is a fundamentally more important experience than most (if not all) other moments of life, because it is temporally at the "end" of a linear life cycle. & this is something i explored in thtf bc i wanted to push back on & question the presumption that death is necessarily any more important of a moment simply because it's the last moment we might have, & i wanted to explore a concept of life in which moments happening at different points of time are not necessarily ever "over"--those moments have always happened & are always happening somewhere in the fabric of the universe...basically thtf was me exploring how things might change if we break away slightly from life measured by linear timelines.

ANYWAY lily's story arc in worm moon is kind of a similar exploration. i think one thing that people find really frightening about this kind of memory loss--which was based around early-onset dementia--is the idea that you are losing these moments when you can't remember them, and also becoming unmoored from your linear temporality. your life is no longer a straight & predictable line from past to present to future; now the past interjects on the present, times get tangled up, etc. & again i wanted to explore the ways in which that can be painful but also the idea that a life unmoored from memory and time does not necessarily preclude joy & love & everything that people generally find makes life worth living; yes, lily losing her memory of her son is painful, but that doesn't mean the moments and the times she lived with him go away. they aren't lost or eroded because they didn't exist only inside her memory or her mind, y'know? the past is always happening and the future is always happening and the present is always happening all at once, etc...or maybe it's not! who knows! but just because we tend to perceive reality one way doesn't mean other perceptions of reality are necessarily less real.

& with sirius's experience of memory loss--there are some overlapping themes, but also different stuff i wanted to unpack & explore. i wanted to write a character going through the trauma & frustration & loss of feeling as though an important piece of past & memory had been stolen from him, and how that blank space can leave a hole inside you, and you can spend so much time trying to fill it--but at the end of the day, sometimes memory is just gone. sometimes it was never made correctly in the first place, and you end up with a hole in your life. and so often in stories about that kind of traumatic memory loss what i've seen is a narrative where there's an eventual restoration of memory that fills in the hole and allows the character to finally move on. but i wanted a character who has to come to terms with the fact that this specific, acute kind of memory loss is permanent--there is no healing of the hole, there is no patching over it, you just have to learn how to be a new person around it because you can't go back to the person you were before it, because that person is no longer you. and you have to learn to live with a trauma that you can't even name. i think that's a stumbling point for me with a lot of narratives i've encountered about trauma: oftentimes, they rely very heavily on finding ways to name & explain that trauma as a means of healing from it and coming to terms with it and moving past it. and if you have a traumatic experience tied to memory loss, or if the memory loss is the traumatic experience, then it's not really something you can "come to terms with." you just have to accept that something happened to you or your body or however you think of that person you can't remember and you'll never fully know what it is; you'll never get to sit down and watch a movie of the memory that says "this is the Truth and this is What Happened and this is why there's a hole inside you and you have nightmares about things you can't remember." anyway i think i'm just rambling now & not explaining this very well lol it's easier to just write what i want to say through these characters yayyyy fanfiction let's all clap & cheer etc

[casedclosedbye]

Souvenir

Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

Angst to Fluff

Wc: 2k

Summary: Spencer Reid is haunted by a creeping fear: that he's losing control of his mind, just like his mother did before him. As his thoughts spiral into a chaotic blur, he's gripped by the terror that his inherited mental illness might be taking hold. When Aaron Hotchner walks in, he senses something is wrong—Spencer’s not okay, though he refuses to admit it.

The air in the bullpen felt heavier than usual as Spencer Reid sat hunched over his desk, staring at the case file in front of him. His fingers trembled slightly as they traced the edge of the pages, his mind a thousand miles away. Every word blurred together, and the more he read, the more distant he felt from himself. The thoughts were intrusive, unwelcome—disjointed.

He couldn't stop them.

Does it happen to her, too? Spencer wondered, his thoughts turning dark. The things I see, the things I feel—does she... did she feel them too?

His mother’s schizophrenia was always something he'd feared inheriting. The long stretches of time he'd spent watching her unravel, the disjointed ramblings that never seemed to make sense—how often had he feared waking up one morning and hearing his own voice slip into something just as distorted? How often had he wondered if it was already happening?

And today? Today, the fear seemed louder than usual.

It all started when he’d taken that last dose of Dilaudid. He'd thought he was fine. Thought the nightmares and the restless nights would fade, that his mind would reset. But no. There were days where his thoughts were just a cacophony of echoes, voices overlapping, and it felt like his skull was caving in, a million pieces breaking apart. He knew what he was feeling—what he feared—but it terrified him to even think the words.

Spencer wasn’t sure when Aaron entered the room. His footsteps were steady, calm, a quiet anchor to the chaos in Spencer’s mind. But Aaron knew. He always did.

“Reid, you alright?” Hotch's voice cut through the silence, warm and grounding.

Spencer didn’t answer at first. He could feel the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t look Aaron in the eye, afraid the words he’d been fighting to keep inside would spill out in a flood.

Hotch’s gaze softened, eyes scanning Spencer with that knowing intensity. He was good at reading people, better than anyone Spencer had ever known. “Spence…”

The nickname felt like a lifeline, but it also reminded him of the gaping hole he couldn’t fill inside his own mind.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” he finally muttered, though his voice sounded shaky to his own ears.

“No, you’re not,” Aaron said, his tone quiet but firm. He stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on Spencer's shoulder, a touch that was both reassuring and—painfully—comforting. "What’s going on?"

Spencer shook his head, unable to bring himself to speak the fear in his heart. He didn’t want to drag Aaron into his spirals, into the mess of his mind. Aaron had seen him at his worst—had held him through his addiction, had pulled him from the abyss more times than Spencer could count. But this? This felt different. This was an edge Spencer didn’t want to cross.

“I—” Spencer swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “What if... what if I’m like her? What if it’s... it’s happening?”

Aaron’s hand tightened on his shoulder, his voice steady. “Spence, you’re not like her. You’re not your mother.”

Spencer clenched his jaw, eyes darting to the case file in front of him as if the answers to his doubts were somehow written there. His breath came out in uneven bursts. “But I feel it, Hotch. I feel it in my head. Like when I cut a hole into my skull, and I can’t stop hearing these thoughts, these voices, like everything I say to myself gets twisted, and nothing makes sense anymore.” His hands fisted on the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood. “Do you hate what you see? Like I do?”

Aaron moved then, his hand lifting to gently cup Spencer’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. There was no judgment there, only love—pure, unshakable love. “I don’t hate what I see, Spence. I love you. I love you, even if your mind doesn’t always make sense. Even if you think you’re broken.”

“I feel broken,” Spencer admitted, voice breaking. “I’m scared, Hotch. I’m scared I’m losing control. What if one day I can’t come back? What if it’s too late?”

Aaron’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer, until their chests almost touched. “Listen to me, Spence.” His voice was low, his words as steady as the beat of his heart. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And if your mind goes places that scare you, then I’ll be here to pull you back. No matter what. You’re not alone in this.”

The tears that Spencer had been holding back finally broke free, falling down his face in a quiet rush. He didn’t try to hide them; he didn’t have the energy anymore. Hotch wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, as though erasing the hurt Spencer had carried for so long.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aaron repeated, his voice steady as a promise. “I’m here with you. You don’t have to be scared of your mind, Spence. Not when I’m here. I’ll love you through it. Every part of you.”

Spencer’s chest ached as he let out a shaky breath, leaning into Aaron’s touch. The weight in his mind felt a little lighter, as if Aaron’s presence was enough to start untangling the knots that had been so tightly wound inside him.

Aaron’s arms wrapped around him then, pulling him into a warm embrace, and Spencer buried his face in his neck, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne, the solidness of his frame. For the first time in days, his breathing slowed, his mind quieted just a little.

“I don’t hate you,” Aaron whispered into his hair. “I could never hate you, Spence. And no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Spencer’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion, but it was enough. “Thank you.”

Aaron kissed the top of his head, a promise, a comfort. “I love you.”

Spencer finally let himself believe it, let himself feel the warmth of Aaron’s words wrapping around him like a blanket. He wasn’t broken. Not in Aaron’s eyes. Not anymore.

And that, for now, was enough.

End.

[mindibindi]

okay but i think the part people often overlook in this scenario -- because it's part of a comic episode (cos rape is charming and hilarious to these bros) -- is that this happens during the cancer arc. It isn't mentioned at all but we know, from where this story is placed, that this is during a time that Scully's cancer is rapidly metastasizing and, for all they know, she is closer to death with every passing day. In this ep, Mulder and Scully are clearly making the most of the time they have, just enjoying being on the job together. Scully teases Mulder. Mulder enjoys Scully's teasing. Mulder enjoys the benefits of Scully's medical expertise. And hearing about her fantasies of she'd be other than herself while they share an umbrella.

This is how Scully wanted to spend the rest of her days. Just at his side, living their life, studying weird scientific anomalies and fitting meaningful moments of personal connection into the brief time they have between knocking on doors and taking names etc. She didn't want melodrama. She wanted normalcy. Routine. Their life. Their routine. And tho she tells Mulder at the end of "Memento Mori" that she chose this for herself and not him, we suspect that this is a half-truth. We know -- and more importantly, she knows -- it's what Mulder wants too. He's scared and he doesn't know how to relate outside of their established routines and rhythms. He's lost and doesn't want anything to change. Even tho he knows it is going to. Eventually.

But even so, despite this agreement that they have silently made to just continue on, doing their jobs, being them (whatever that means), there HAS to be a part of both of them that realises that this isn't time they are going to get back. Part of them knows that this time might be better used getting real, getting close, asking and answering all the questions that they have about the other. Like: who'd you go to prom with? Who were you before you came into my life and altered it completely? Prior to this, we've seen Scully resist Mulder's dedication to his work, we've seen her want a life outside of the X files. We know this is something that will drive them apart in the future. So I think that we can assume that, however well she knows Mulder and his limitations, part of her wants him to act exactly as Eddie van Blundht did. Attentive. Interested. Relaxed. Engaged. Like he has all the time in the world for her. So when she opens that door and meets an altered Mulder, a warm and talkative man, it isn't just that she's getting a version or side of Mulder she's always wanted. It's that she thinks he's finally coming to her, wanting to create real connection with her before the opportunity is no longer available to either of them. Maybe this is his clumsy attempt -- one she's been secretly waiting for for months -- to get closer before she dies.

So yes, she's suspicious, weirded out. She wants this. But in her mind, she's probably also thinking: is this just cos I'm dying? And he's scared of losing his sidekick? Is that why he's coming here? Acting weird? Asking this? Leaning in and looking at me like...oh...oh shit... That's a silent part of her inner conflict. Not just that it's not quite Mulder. Or not quite how she envisaged this happening. (Tho she has). But that she doesn't want her illness, her loss triggering his Samantha stuff, to be the leverage that makes him act like not-quite-her-Mulder. AND at the same time, she IS dying. And they are both kind of ignoring that reality. They're both scared and both going thru their fear alone. And she DOES want that real connection with him. She does want to exist outside of the X files. She wants THEM to exist outside of the X files. Neither of them really knows how to do that, to shift them out of their time-worn routine. But maybe, she thinks, this is his attempt to do that. Because their time together is limited by her diagnosis.

The latter half of this whole season is haunted by Scully's illness and death. Every single episode alludes to it in some way even when it isn't spoke aloud. We have grief and funerals and spectres in "Kaddish", "Unrequited" and "Max" etc. We have the big what-if of time travel in "Synchrony". "Small Potatoes" is sandwiched in between this and Scully going back into hospital, more spectres and Mulder's punishing pursuit to remember everything(!!). The revelation of this ep isn't just that Scully would let Mulder kiss her or Scully craves a deeper knowledge of Mulder or Scully wants to experience them outside their safe yet scary milieu. It's that Scully wants all of the above to occur before she dies. But she doesn't know how to say so. She wants more from him, from their life together, but doesn't know how to make it happen. Even when she's shown that it may be as simple as showing up on his doorstep with a cheap bottle of wine.

small potatoes is actually fucking crazy bc imagine you are so good at repressing your feelings and bottling everything up and one day your best friend who you are in love with is like let’s hang out and get tipsy and tell stories which is kind of weird but good weird and you tell him you like him like this and talk about your childhood and your fears and he goes to kiss you and oops it’s not him it wasn’t him the whole time and the real him is busting down the door. i would never open up to anyone again

[marc--chilton]

AO3 down again within 24 hours so I’m also asking you mgv stuff to quell my fandom hunger…

What’s Giselle’s teen fate? Is she still super clingy to her parents, or is she ‘misunderstood!’ and going thru it? Does she have any childhood friends (maybe Chase and Cameron’s?)

good question.... honestly she has a great relationship with her parents so she rarely ever even feels super embarrassed by them, and if anyone calls her mom and abba weird, she calls their parents boring (she carries house's philosophy of "if it's boring i'm not wasting my time on it" so this is a huge insult in her book)

she's also not very good at making friends but that's okay because being alone suits her just fine no matter how much wilson encourages her. though she does manage to find a scattering of other outliers of the high school social hierarchy to sit with at lunch, she hesitates on calling them 'friends' -- they do consider her to be theirs, though, so??? at the very least she does warm up to them when she isn't turned away for sneaking a mantis in a jar-terrarium into the school though.

her first job is as a pizza delivery girl btw. they let her take food home sometimes so on those days house and wilson will come home to giselle already plowing through cheesy breadsticks and wings like "oh hey. i have dinner" that leads to her getting swamped with exaggerated affection from house ("i always knew there'd be come good coming out of having you!!!" followed by an annoyed yet fond eyeroll from wilson) and then having the breadstick in her hand stolen while she's distracted