#its more trouble than its worth probably

[enemywasp]

I am usually against call out posts as I do not want to ever encourage harrasement to someone intentionally or not. But god is it tempting when people are telling me to "cut deeper" cause I don't think you should be able to get away with that

[1eos]

Miss kendra would u reccomend getting a switch? Ive been think of getting back into video games but im not sure if i should get a handheld or a home console.

if a majority of the games you're interested in are switch exclusives its worth it, but if you want to play games that are also on steam, ps4/5, xbox etc i would recc getting a console bc the switch is the worst abt planned obselescence. like its the least durable system ive ever encountered in my life its actually infuriating.

good points:

if u like handheld gaming the switch lite is excellent. you can save $150, there a cute colors, and the battery life and graphics are excellent. going back to my ps vita after the switch is like whoaaa the display on the lite is just that good.

memory cards for switches arent too expensive and u can get a big sized one for a good deal and not have to worry about space

good game library. i got the switch to play persona strikers, botw, animal crossing, and god eater 3 and it was worth it....and most of these games were worth it

since the switch is super popular its easy to get pre owned units for a decent discount from reputable places

bad points:

the joycons on the switch WILL go out. like no ifs and or buts they get terminal levels of drift in a year, year and a half of any kind of regular play. nintendo knows this and they don't give a fuck. if you have a switch console they used to send u joycons replacements for free but if u have a lite they have to fix it and YES they will charge you :) i got a discount only bc i said i wasn't gonna pay $80 for their negligence.

also 4 or so years later the flap on the game slot has broken and the left trigger doesnt work on my lite. mind u my first ps vita is almost 12 years old and had NO hardware issues (only a memory card issue) and i put more work into that vita in one year than i have in 3 years w my switch. so just be mindful that you will have hardware issues guaranteed

-game prices. switch games rarely if ever go on sale even if theyre 400000 years old and its actually evil. if there are a lot of games u want to play im honestly gonna recommend getting a ps4/ps5 first bc u can get games on sale digitally and physically at a MUCH better price

-a LOT of switch exclusive games drop half baked. this is true of a lot of consoles but with the switch its even more egregious bc of the insane price point. i regret getting animal crossing when it dropped out of nostalgia bc it arrived w virtually no content. one of the newer story of seasons was wayyyyy too empty too easy etc etc. with switch exclusive games in particular you should always wait for unbiased reviews bc most of these games beyond botw dropped bare bones as hell

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: Sour Grapes (1.9, Thames, 1971)

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

"What? Uh, eh - eh, no. Nein."

"Habla... usted español?"

"Uh, no hablo. Inglés. English."

"Ich spreche kein Englisch."

"Oh, wonderful. Here we go."

"What d'you think he wants?"

"Feel free to ask."

[call-me-pup2]

Have you had or do you want to have a threesome (or foursome, or more)?

The fantasy idea of it? Hell yes! I'd let a bunch of people use me at once

Actually in real life? Maybe, I would still be up for it I think but it a bit tricky because I seem happier sleeping with people I'm actively dating so it would be a case of bringing someone into that but I think I'd also have a meltdown if they wanted to fuck my partner too which isn't fair 🙃

[todayisafridaynight]

Daigo has so many genuine connections, all these people who would stand by him regardless of if Tojo still exists. It just sort of feels like it plays to the way Masato is just chronically blind to the love around him and the strength of Ichiban's whole thing and surrounds himself purely with transactional relationships. It's the way Mine viewed the world before he met Daigo, but Masato is purposefully cultivating this environment around himself. Masato HAD those bonds where Mine didn't, but Masato's "those who use and those who are used" still feels like a worse distillation of Mine's philosophy, or at least that the two rhyme even if they aren't the same. Daigo originally defying Mine's worldview led to a longing to understand it and be a part of it; Daigo defying Masato's would probably just lead to more seething lol. Tojo going away, not only is just 'oops daigo already planned on that' robbing Masato of the satisfaction, idk it just further highlights that without being wrapped up in the status of Chair that these people are still with Daigo. Aoki bought his connections through lies and money and destroyed the only ones he sincerely had by following "use or be use" to its end, but Daigo could just fuck off anywhere he wanted and still have not just friendship but as Masato might see it absolute loyalty (esp in a Mine lives scenario; Aoki's lil pet bastard Kume's devotion is absolutely a speck vs **Mine** ). Both Aoki and Daigo can lose their positions of power, but its only Masato who feels like he's lost everything. sdfklfsjld idk goodbye anyway the brainrot is strong please keep going I'm here for every second

OK BUT LIKE. ALL OF THIS. ABOVE MY FIREPLACE AND FRAMED

the note bout mine and masato's worldviews IS SUCH an interesting point too: in essence they both believed the same thing (genuine bonds are a myth and people only use each other), it was just that mine held onto the small hope that he'd be wrong one day. by the time daigo does prove him wrong, he's almost automatically willing to accept it. his problem is that he became so attached to daigo that when the possibility of him being taken away became real, he went off the deep end

in masato's case. Lord he's a field day to explore psychologically maybe in another post, but he did have those bonds mine wanted so earnestly for more than half his life, exactly. ever since arakawa saved him- hell, even after sawashiro realized the life he inflicted upon him, masato was showered with nothing but love from the arakawa family. it's a wonder that despite that fact, masato still insisted he was neglected and alone. settling for relationships he knew were fake and for the most part temporary, he wanted to protect himself- he didn't want to be attached and become hurt and vulnerable again

it really is a cruel twist for masato and daigo and how they end up: despite daigo actually having grown up alone, that didn't stop him from having a warm and inviting attitude towards people and giving him a sizable amount of people who'd follow him to the ends of the earth. inversely, masato had become greedy and wanted more adoration, even if it was superficial or surface level.

[phagodyke]

I have to be up for work in 3 hours and I'm gonna be real I think ive hit the point where I might not be getting any sleep at all. for fucks sake.

[hedgehog-moss]

(There is blood pictured at the end of this post) (well, 1 drop) (don't worry it's mine, not some innocent creature's)

I found a dormouse in my kitchen today, just chilling on the ceiling above my head, watching me cook. Maybe even judging my cooking technique like Ratatouille. I only noticed its presence because there's a bunch of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling above the stove and at one point I heard a rustling, then a crunching noise.

It was eating my herbs.

As if they were a little snack I'd placed here for my dormouse friends. None of my other animals can walk on the ceiling, therefore any food that's near the ceiling must be an offering to the dormice. (I admit, that's sound logic.)

A dormouse family has been living in my walls since before I moved here—I should probably call it a dormouse dynasty, by now. Here's the first post I wrote about them, in 2019 ! The cats eat a lot of them (especially Morille, she loves dormice) but apparently not enough to make the key decision makers in this dormouse community decide that living in my house is more trouble than it's worth.

Every year when they hibernate and go quiet for eight months I have the renewed hope that this time the cats got rid of all of them, but the next spring they wake up and start scratching inside my walls in the middle of the night again. (Not only that's creepy, but it's so loud.)

Anyway, this dormouse, let's call him Alfred. I saw immediately which hole between two stones he'd crawled out of and the first thing I did was to stuff a salt shaker in there to block his escape route. Step 2 was to call for backup—I summoned Morille, and she came down from the living-room 2 seconds later (the cats know it's always good news when I call them to the kitchen while cooking.)

Alfred was panicking.

I grabbed a broom and started threatening him with it like an angry old woman in a cartoon. He tried to flee towards the ladder, but Morille was there. He tried to flee towards the door, but Morille was also there. He tried to hide on top of the fridge, and Morille happily lay siege to it, like my fridge was a Gallic oppidum on top of a hill and Morille was Caesar and his entire army.

Morille was having the time of her life.

But my kitchen door was ajar, and Alfred managed a heroic jump from the top of the fridge to the lintel, like a flying squirrel. He scurried out then grabbed hold of the climbing rose right above the door. When I got out and took this photo, he looked fairly stressed and pessimistic.

I didn't want him to climb the wall all the way to the eaves and go right back into my house, so I went back in to get my broom again, either to make him lose his grip and fall straight into Morille's gaping maw (sorry), or make him run away into the woods (inferior solution; they always find their way back, unless you take them very far away.)

(I used to trap dormice humanely then drive them 3km away to release them near the barn of a neighbour I disliked, but this neighbour has since moved. (Not because of my dormouse warfare, I swear.) There's also an abandoned house in the woods where I used to exile my prisoners, but after a while I started feeling silly driving around the countryside with dormice in the backseat, so I stopped trapping them (it really was a hassle) and just let the cats eat them.)

But Alfred is a combative and resourceful rodent. In the half-minute it took me to go back in and grab my broom, he laid a trap for me.

He ran along the stem of my climbing rose in such a way that his weight made it droop jussst enough to be now hanging at face level rather than above the door. So when I ran outside again with my broom, I was slapped in the face by a thorny rose plant. (For a minute I thought I was crying tears of blood, which seemed worrying, but it was just a scratch above my eye.) (I wish it could leave a tiny scar, so people will ask how I got it, and I will tell them about the mighty dormouse wielding a rose sword.)

I sent these pics to my brother hoping to get some sympathy, and he cropped & desaturated the one with the blood teardrop then sent it back with the comment "you look like an Evanescence song"

By this point I decided Alfred had won this battle. (Not the war, because it's almost autumn aka hibernation time so he probably found another gap between two stones and went right back inside. The war continues.) But this humble dormouse set a Saw trap to poke my eyes out the second I stepped outside my house and I respect that. I admire the way he used his environment to his advantage, and teamed up with my climbing rose to level the playing field (since I had teamed up with my cat first.) He has won the right to spend another winter inside my walls, curled up in my cosy wool insulation, dreaming of dried herbs, thwarted cats, and heroic skydiving from fridgetops.

Well played.

[autogyne-redacted]

Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy

It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.

Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:

Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:

First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.

Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested). Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable, and even if charges don't stick, they're an easy vector for legal harassment.

Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.

It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.

The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.

Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

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[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers S/O falling asleep on them

A/N: Just a quick little drabble of me fantasizing about our favourite slashers. I am still working through requests so please don't think I am ignoring you guys! They are coming :)

Billy Loomis

· Billy isn’t sure how to react at first, if you are around people sorry but he’s not going to tarnish his reputation with these soft moments. But if you're alone he will be conflicted.

· He’s not used to soft moments and he likes to be in control of any affection. He tries to keep it light like hand holding or sexual to try and keep you at a distance. So, this makes him sort of short circuit.

· Once he decides to allow it, it takes him a while but he does eventually relax into the embrace. He hates to admit that it is comforting, you make him feel secure and that worries him.

· He probably won’t sit for too long and may move eventually, he won’t disturb you but will leave you on the couch to rest.

Bo Sinclair

· Bo will never ever admit to this but he loves your soft affection, even if it’s only when you're asleep that he embraces it. He will pull you closer to him and wrap his arm around you. It’s the time he will let his guard down and let himself truly feel.

· If his brothers walk in he’s going to act like it’s a hassle, but even they know he doesn’t really mean it. Will also probably whine at you about it later.

· Bo loves you but he won’t admit that yet, even if you question it sometimes just know that you don’t get to see the way he looks at you like you're his world, or how your cute sleepy expression grips his heart. It’s these times where he thinks maybe he should be nicer to you, it’s now when he realises that he needs you even if he’s not ready to admit that.

Jason Voorhees

· Jason will not move a muscle if you fall asleep on him, you may as well be leaning on a comfier version of a statue. He wouldn’t do anything to wake you up.

· Barely breathes in fear or disturbing you. This man adores you and if you need sleep you're going to get it.

· If there are any trespassers he is going to be even more brutal than usual, how dare they disturb this intimate moment with his loved one. He lays you down as gently as he can, lucky you're a heavy sleeper.

· Jason will make quick work of the trespassers so he can get back to you, sure you may wake up with some leftover blood on you but it’s all worth it in the end to be in Jason’s arms.

Jesse Cromeans

· Jesse gets a small smirk on his face when he realises you’ve fallen asleep in his lap while he’s completing some paperwork. He will hold you while he works, occasionally stroking your hair and placing his chin on your head.

· You seem so small buried into his chest, it reminds Jesse how delicate you are and how protective he is of you to keep you here with him.

· Jesse is a busy man so its highly likely that he will end up having some sort of work that pulls him away from this intimate moment. He will carry you with ease to your bed and cover you in blankets to keep you warm until he can return.

· Won’t leave without placing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead and watching you snuggle in.

Lester Sinclair

· Lester is a busy man, he loves your affections but try to catch him when it won’t interfere with his day or piss Bo off. He will put your affections first and that can often get him in trouble with his brother.

· This man is the cutest cuddle bug, he will hold you for as long as you want. Will wrap you up in his arms and put a movie on, he is definitely the most chill out of the slashers when it comes to this kind of affection.

· Expect him to occasionally cover your face in soft kisses, the small smile it puts on your face gives him the cheesiest grin. Part of him wants you to hurry up and wake up so he can give you more affection, but don’t worry he wouldn’t dream of waking you.

· Lester cherishes you and when you wake up still in his arms expect to give him all of your attention for a while.

Michael Myers

· Do you like sleeping on the floor? Because that’s where you will end up if you fall asleep on Michael when he’s not in a very good mood. He’s an asshole. He does love you, but you don’t get to be affectionate without his approval when he’s in this kind of mood.

· If you catch him on a good day he will simply let you rest against him, most likely sitting still and watching you sleep.

· He thinks you're naïve to trust him when you're in such a vulnerable state, how he could hurt you at any moment. He likes to pretend that he could but you both know he would never do anything to hurt you. Not now that he had let you in.

· If you wake up to his head resting against yours as you both find comfort in the slight affection he will jump up and storm off as soon as he notices you're awake. Don’t bring it up unless you want him to pout for a while or threateningly glare at you from across the room. He will pretend it never happened.

Stu Macher

· Stu had always been a night owl, and it didn’t help he spent a lot of his nights out with Billy.

· You would wait up for him a lot at his place, flicking through the channels of the tv and waiting for that familiar click of the front door. He would instantly come and join you, arms open and waiting. He always missed touching and holding you.

· Would probably ramble on and not realise you were sleeping until he notices you aren’t answering him anymore. The cheesy smile this boy gets when he realises you're asleep.

· He will probably just watch you for a while, moving the hair out of your face.

· Stu is the type of guy to draw on people’s faces while they sleep, but with you he will just gently trace your features or draw small love hearts with his finger, laughing quietly to himself as your nose crinkles at the feeling.

· He wouldn’t move you, he loves holding you in his arms, keeping you close to him. Will for sure tease you about it later though.

Thomas Hewitt

· Thomas just melts when he feels your head rest against him. He knows how tiring it can be working in the heat, so he will let you rest for as long as you need to.

· He will blush if anyone else sees the two of you, but he’s still not moving.

· Thomas could hold you like this forever, but he worries that the couch isn’t the comfiest place to spend the night so he will carry you upstairs to your room, this man just wants what is best for you. He tries his best to be as gentle as possible when he lays you down, not wanting to wake you.

· He stands up to leave but notices you clinging to his shirt, the crinkle in your brow showing you're clearly not happy with the loss of contact. He lets out a husky huff before climbing into bed next to you, he melts under your touch and the thought that even in your sleep you need his touch.

Vincent Sinclair

· He stills immediately when he feels the contact. Vincent loves you so much but he’s not sure he will ever get used to the physical affections.

· When he realises you’ve fallen asleep on him his heart swells. You better believe this boy will not move an inch, your comfort is his entire priority. He will be dead still until you wake up, would not dream of disturbing you.

· Will definitely watch you sleep, he feels like he needs to commit every single line of your face to memory. Not only will he want to sketch you later on but the fear of you leaving still weighs heavily on him and he needs to make sure he would remember every detail of you.

· It’s like you can feel him staring when you shuffle closer to him and mumble his name, he instantly melts. He pulls you closer, reassuring you that he’s still there. He’s not going anywhere, he will always be there.

[ikkosu]

TO LIVE, AND TO SERVE

part one

(tfo. sentinel x gn.miner.reader )

spoilers! just in case. nothing plot heavy spoilers but yk just in case.

one, two, three

CHAINS clinked against the ground. Ones, you realize that were yours as you try to lift up your pedes, only for it to stop short a few centimeters high and drag back down again with a hackle. Alright, so you're shackled. Easy, just flip over and see where I am.

You tried. Tried. To flip over, but all you could manage was a wiggle and that's just about it. Your servos were chained to your back. And your neck was sore bent at a position for so long. The ground was grimy and dark and your cheek — Primus it was sore —was pressed against the floor.

Where am I?

A migraine pulsed behind your optics, coupled with a familiar faint ache thrumming from your abdomen, freshly sore.

Oh, right.

A kick to the shin and one to the helm. A blur of colors. Then, a throttle. Darkwing, you grimaced. You should've known better than to play hero and help. A creak sounded, hinges of a metal door opening and your neck strained from frantic ways of trying to look over your shoulder.

—Proved futile.

"Oh, you don't have to run." A voice echoed, a cave-like resonance that trilled and bounced off the walls of the cell. "I've already made sure that you couldn't."

The shadow stretched across the floor. It became larger, molding in size. Into shape. You try to speak, but all that came out were incoherent slurs of sentences. Each one increased with panic. Intake, slack, faceplate numb. And that, to your unfortunate demise, amused the Prime.

"No worries, though, Airachnid's venom aren't usually that fatal. Well, usually. But this time I advised, and I'm glad she listened, to use her lesser death-inducing ones. Ones that take an instant. Its a bit of a mess when anomalies die."

His pedes stopped beside your helm. "And you know that... don't, you?" Another babble from you made him laugh. "Hah. You look ridiculous. Here, allow me."

A harsh tug on your back flipped you over and you grunted, finally able to relish some light from the ceiling. Sentinel prime loomed above you, a grin on his face.

Oh, Primus.

You never thought this was how you'd meet your beloved Prime. Besides, any other way would result your spark snuffed and churned into energon. The ache in your abdomen pierced into a searing pain. You winced.

"You know what that is? Its a kind of paralysis that only affects your body, not your helm." He tapped your forehead.

Tink.

Tink.

"Your mind still works. You can think, you can feel. I can see your optics are still bright." He tips his helm, curiously amused. " Still got that little fire in you, huh. And you're scared. You're scared, yes?"

Silence. You only stared back, chassis pumped with andrenaline. What else you were suppose to say, blegh blegh blegh?

" Silly me. Blink twice if you're scared."

You blinked once.

"Oh?"

Then another slow blink.

"That's what I thought. Now," he knelt beside your helm. The tight smile on his face was nothing genial. " What did I tell you about miners going around creating troubles for me to fix. "

Sir! It wasn't what it was! You rustled, moving you mouth. Nothing came out. Whether Sentinel was aware of the incident or not, it seemed he chose to ignore the possibility that you might be right.

" Not only you defied a supervisor, you also kicked him and destroyed — let me see," He tapped your cheek, tink tink tink, optics to the ceiling, thinking. "Oh yes, almost blew up crates worth of decades use. Injured five of my gaurds. Many more, probably. And, why is that? To make a point nobody will understand. To make a point that's virtually worthless?"

You shook your head.

We couldn't go on any longer. Sir, please.

We are free.

We need to be free.

"Your little speech was adorable. That mineer you saved, oh how melodramatic. Unfortunately like you, he's not going to have the opportunity of choosing his punishment."

Your optics widened and you froze. That look on your face seemed to please him and he lunged forward. You choked as he grabbed your face, pulling your head up to his level.

"It's a shame." He crooned. " You miners are so delicate. Its a miracle you managed this much through the mines already." The other servo grabbed your throat. He sighed, and tightened both grips.

The accumulating andrenaline allowed you to kick below in panic. The venom was dissapating. You feel a little pulse in your pedes, as well as the sensors blooming back on your digits.

"Now, I'll give you two options" He leaned closer. "And I'll only say this once. You can serve Cybertron and it's people — or,"

The servo clutching your throat released and glided down, down and lower...

" Or, you can serve me. Your Prime. Your leader — What will that be?"

Your optics flickered, staring back into his blue ones.

You faintly reminisced bumping into a miner on the street while heading down to the main square of iacon. You've just had your pay, a few hundred shanix clutched in your servos and the collision smeared them across the ground. Frantic, you tried to pick them up, ignoring the several laughters from the bots above — and the miner did too. They were just like you, except...

"Here," They said.

You look up.

They were pretty. Well kempt. A gentle smile on their face. Their platings were shiny, glossy. Without a scratch.

You were confused.

They were just like you. No cogs. No nothing.

"Oh, you're at a different sector, then?" You remember asking.

The miner blinked and frown, chagrined as he handed the last slip of shanix and looked away. You couldn't asked more. A mech with gleaming gold platings dragged them away.

The last look he gave was a somber look before looking ahead. Never back.

You remember being confused. A little irritated at such a display the senator took them away.

But, now. Now, it all made sense.

Is that what it was?

A toy for them to play with?

"I'll...serve....you...." You croaked out.

But even so, at least you're able to live.

"Good mech."

[theminecraftbee]

i'm still thinking about the fae zedaph prompt so much that i have. an entire au in my head now. that i am now sharing, in case others are interested.

so the setting of the au is an intentionally kind of anachronistic blend of sci-fi and fantasy, and those things often come into conflict, with a lot of magic interacting badly with technology and technology interacting badly with magic. a vaguely earth-like setting from the near future, where there are robots and space travel and cybernetics, but ALSO a vaguely earth-like setting where there are portals you can slip through that will drop you into the feywild and there are magcial creatures lurking beneath the surface. the idea is like, if an urban fantasy had the 'urban' part set in a sci-fi world.

anyway, so zedaph is an ancient fey creature. a wild fey no longer really associated with either court, but at one point having belonged to the seelie court, zedaph mainly just courts chaos. he's PROBABLY some kind of archfey, but it's worth noting that even other fey aren't fully certain what zedaph is supposed to be at this point. see, in a move that makes almost no sense to a human, zedaph has started to get bored of the games of fair folk. he finds them too... predictable! and sure, to HUMANS the fair folk can seem chaotic and without rules, but to zedaph? he wants something NEW AND EXCITING.

too bad that these days, even if he IS invited into the human realm, it is a bit dangerous to navigate for a fey such as himself. his own deep connection to nature and the natural world makes it so he has some trouble when he's in the tall metal cities of the human realm.

enter: tango.

tango is an android built for... some purpose. he's not really sure what his purpose is, or if he still has one, which is kind of distressing, because his creator either died or abandoned him before tango was turned on. he likes building zany contraptions, sure, but he also sort of wants to search for SOME kind of meaning in his life, since androids aren't really built to be purposeless and that lack of purpose is starting to wear at him. and in another setting, this is a great start to a cyberpunk story about what it means to be human, but in THIS setting, tango accidentally proves he must be developing a soul when he stumbles through a portal to the feywild by accident and fails to find his own way out.

the good news for tango is also the bad news: he's not built for a natural place like the feywild. see, his creator had made him largely out of cold iron, and that, even more than any specific technology, repels fair folk magic. so the good news is that he is largely immune to fey shenanigans! the bad news is that the feywild itself is rejecting him, putting him in immense danger.

enter: zedaph, who is FASCINATED to discover that these days the humans are making machines with souls. zedaph, eager to discover something new, makes a bargain with tango: tango guides him in the human world so zedaph doesn't die of metal poisoning, and in return, zedaph guides tango whenever he stumbles into a dangerous supernatural hotspot. look, zedaph's even making a fair deal and everything, since he can't just like, steal tango's name and force him to, on account of not even tango knowing what his true name would be! the two of them shake on it, and as such, a bargain is struck between both android and archfey.

they both find each other surreal and baffling but are ALSO each other's best friends in an equally baffling and surreal world.

impulse comes into this story later--after whatever the first few adventures tango and zedaph have are, exploring both realms together to try to find something new and exciting for zedaph and something to give tango purpose, the amount of magic tango's being exposed to finally takes its toll, and tango starts to malfunction. zedaph panics as he realizes all at once that he has a friend (thing he didn't know he even could get?) and that friend is in danger. also, uh, more importantly that deal. right. that.

naturally, he then kidnaps the first software engineer he can find. this is a proportionate response, right?

luckily the first software engineer he finds is impulse, and impulse is hardly like, normal, either. like, yes, he's a fully mundane human with only the world's most minor cybernetics, he's normal that way, the way he's not normal is that he gets kidnapped by a terrifying and awesome fey to fix a paradoxical android and goes "this is so cool. hi my name is impulse it's nice to meet you! aw, geez," and acts like everything is normal. neither tango nor zedaph are quite good enough at the idea of 'normal human' to dispute this, and a friendship is then born.

impulse serves as the fixer for a lot of their problems that neither tango nor zedaph are equipped to handle, but he's also like, he'd theoretically be the everyman if he wasn't busy going "every man gets whisked away by the plot of a philosophy major's dream every once and a while right" and going with the flow on things NO SANE PERSON SHOULD GO WITH THE FLOW WITH. he's just chilling in the world's least "just chilling" scenario.

so... there you go there's the ENTIRE TEAM ZIT AU that my brain spawned from the prompt "fey zedaph" i hope you enjoy,

[unboundprompts]

Hello! I’ve never really used this ask thing before— so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. I love your prompts and other works and was wondering if you could help me figure out how to write and describe accents? My characters have very specific accents (Australian accents, British accents, etc.) and I’m having trouble figuring out how to show that. This is a fantasy setting so I couldn’t just describe their accents as an Australian accent and such y’know? I’m so sorry if this doesn’t make sense. Would you be able to help?

How to Write a Character with an Accent

-> How to Write Character Accents

-> How to Convey Accents in Fiction Writing

Make sure your character’s speech isn’t distracting

When writing dialect or a particular accent, it can be tempting to write a character’s dialogue using phonetic spellings. However, this use of dialect can distract your reader. If your character is French and is constantly saying “ze” instead of “the,” the reader will be focusing more on decoding the line of dialogue than they will on plot or character development. When writing fiction, your reader’s attention should always be on the story, and anything that distracts from that probably isn’t worth including.

Slang and Colloquialisms

Incorporate regional slang, colloquialisms, or idioms that reflect the accent. Each accent has its own unique phrases that can suggest the character's background.

Include Snippets of their Native Language

 If you’re writing a character who speaks a foreign language, one way to communicate their accent is to simply include snippets of their native tongue in their lines of dialogue. This will demonstrate the character’s native language and implied accent without resorting to the distracting eyesore of phonetic spelling.

Don't Stereotype

Writing different dialects indelicately can make you appear condescending towards non-native English speakers or people who use the English language differently than you do. One of the most common offenders is the use of “eye dialect,” which refers to using misspellings or nonstandard spellings in order to depict a character’s accent (for instance, writing “fixin’” with an apostrophe instead of “fixing” in order to demonstrate Appalachian or Southern accents). By focusing on the “otherness” of regional dialects and non-native speakers, a writer may give the impression that they are making fun of the way people speak. When writing different accents, keep eye dialect to a minimum.

Rhythm and Intonation

Accents often have distinctive rhythms and intonations. Pay attention to how the accent changes the flow of speech. For instance, British accents might have a more clipped and precise quality, while Australian accents can sound more relaxed and drawn out.

You might describe this in your narrative, saying something like, "Her words rolled out with a casual lilt, the vowels stretching like lazy waves."

Character Reactions and Context

Show how other characters react to the accent. If a character speaks in a heavy accent, others might lean in to listen, nod in confusion, or make a comment. This helps highlight the uniqueness of the speech.

Physical Description

Consider linking the accent to physical traits or background details. Describe the character’s upbringing or location, giving hints about their accent through their surroundings or lifestyle.

Example: “Raised in the bustling markets of Evermere, his accent was a musical blend of the old tongue, softening the hard edges of his words.”

Subtlety in Dialogue Tags

Instead of writing out the accent in every piece of dialogue, you can subtly hint at it through the dialogue tags. For example, “he said, his voice dripping with the easy lilt of the southern coast” can convey the accent without explicit phonetic spelling.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former. 

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence. 

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked. 

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him. 

Her mouth closed. 

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left. 

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass. 

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.  

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing." 

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up." 

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again. 

He didn’t have that. 

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land. 

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy. 

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected. 

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf. 

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.  

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail. 

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. 

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even. 

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals. 

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit. 

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite. 

He did now. 

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade. 

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck. 

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated. 

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

[linghxr]

Advice I would give my past self about studying Chinese

Recently I've been reflecting on my Chinese learning journey and how far I've come. If I could go back in time, these are 10 things I would tell my past self. A few are specific to Chinese, but most can apply to any language

It will get so much easier to learn new characters. I remember feeling overwhelmed because learning new characters was a painful process. Now when I encounter a new character, I can remember it with relative ease—it’s just a new combination of familiar components.

Don't feel bad about having uneven development in different skills. My listening and reading are significantly stronger than my speaking and writing. It’s super common and nothing to be ashamed of.

The best way to get over being too embarrassed to speak is to experience some embarrassment and realize it’s not a big deal. I used to be so afraid of making mistakes that I would avoid speaking in class. It was only by being forced to speak that I got over it. I'm much better for it!

It’s impossible to learn everything, and time is limited. You have to prioritize. You probably don’t need to know how to say “pawnshop” in Chinese, and trying to jam your head full of 100 words you saw once won’t work. They won’t stick.

It will actually be harder to read pinyin than to read characters at some point. When I helped a friend with a script for her Chinese class, I really struggled because she had written it entirely in pinyin. I had to write out the characters to read without stumbling! I know characters are daunting for beginners, but trust me, you will get used to them.

If you haven’t practiced or learned something, of course you won’t be good at it. I remember feeling so frustrated trying to navigate Chinese websites for the first time. In retrospect, obviously, I was going to struggle with something completely new to me!

If something isn’t sticking, move on. Why waste time on a word that’s not clicking when you could be learning five new ones? It will only result in unnecessary frustration. So unless you need to know it for your class or a proficiency test, drop it and move on.

Don’t beat yourself up when you have trouble understanding music, literature, different accents, etc. These can be challenging even in your native language. Of course you’re going to struggle more in a new language.

It's worth it to pay attention to things like stroke order and tones from the start so you don't form bad habits. Don’t stress about get it perfect, but it’s easier to do it right the first time than to have to correct your bad habits in the future.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all that you don’t know, learn how to express yourself with what you do know. It’s truly its own skill that requires practice. After all, in life you can’t always stop and pull out a dictionary.

I started learning Chinese a really long time ago, but I became more serious about it in 2018, so 5 1/2 years ago. I'm very proud of how far I've come, but I still have a long way to go! I look forward to revisiting this post in another couple of years 😊

[hauntedhokage]

𝓂𝓊𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉

Marriage has its ups and downs. Being married Rin sometimes had more downs than ups due to his constant emotional conflict and inferiority complex. But he's always so good to you in return.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: vaginal fingering, my own headcanons for how rin acts as he gets older

Mornings were usually quiet in your house. Whether Rin was home or not didn’t matter, since he was normally up before you and outside running through his home drills to not disturb your sleep. When he wasn’t home it was just you and the cat who had an automatic feeder so you weren’t disturbed for that reason while sleeping (another insistence from Rin). A quiet house was the standard, so you’re surprised when you wake up to the sound of music coming from downstairs. Usually he waited until you were up and moving to start playing some music while he tidied up around the house, but the music was playing softly enough that you assumed he thought you wouldn’t hear it. 

But then you hear some glass break and roll out of bed, pulling your robe on and sliding into your slippers on your way out of the bedroom to investigate. Most likely just the cat demanding Rin’s attention, he was needy like that, but you still need to check in and make sure nobody was hurt. 

And yes; the cat was involved, held tight in Rin’s arm as he tried to clean up the mess with his other hand. This is where you step in, taking the broom from the closet so you can sweep up the glass more efficiently while he keeps the curious feline at bay. 

“What’d he do?”

“Not him this time.” Is the response you get, and you look up at him curiously. “I…bumped into it.”

“Please lie better,” you request, knowing that this vase sat by the entryway door, not near the kitchen. Not that you think he’d throw it, especially not with your cat running around, but there’s an answer that you need from him that you can tell he doesn’t really want to give you. “Tell me what happened?”

And he shifts on his feet, acting more like a child who’d been caught playing soccer in the house and breaking a window than an adult who had better control to ensure nothing was broken, leaving you to sigh as you stand with the glass shards you could sweep up. You’d never really seen him like this, only when you’d called him out for being suspiciously nice and he had to blurt out that he wanted you to move in with him, and again when he asked you to marry him. Rin didn’t look nervous. Ever. So for this to be the situation in your home was interesting.

“I…dropped it.”

“Okay? Why are you acting like you’re in trouble for it?” 

“You liked it,” is all he says at first, and you shrug while dumping the glass into the trash. “I’ll take that out.”

“But why was it by the kitchen?”

“I was going to put water in it, get some flowers to surprise you, that kind of thing.” You don’t necessarily buy that, but you know some things are worth pressing and others aren’t. This would be one of those things you don’t want to press. “What’s with the third degree?”

“I just wanted to know how a vase that sits by the door ended up broken by the kitchen, that’s all. You said you dropped it, that’s the end of it.” He huffs, and you roll your eyes as you stand and trade him the trash bag for your cat. “Be pissy, I don’t care. Just make sure the little shards get cleaned up so the cat doesn’t pay for your apparent clumsiness.” 

And you’re going back up the stairs, fussy cat in your arms (he always preferred spending time with Rin), and head to your bedroom to get ready for the day. You were going to take a hot shower and probably go grocery shopping without him. His bad attitude would ruin your shopping trip, even if you know there’s something else bothering him - Rin always unintentionally picked fights when there was an inner demon bugging him. Usually brought on by his brother, but he hadn’t seen or heard from Sae in a couple months so it couldn’t be that. 

You could get him a snack while you were out. Not quite a peace offering since you had nothing to apologize for, but a way to tell him that you saw him and knew him better than to think he was okay when he was doing things like that - it’s why he married you, after all. You knew him down to his very core, you knew how to see right through him, but you also knew when to leave him alone - not everything was worth pressing. 

He’s sitting on the patio when you head out, you don’t even bother to tell him you were leaving since he wouldn’t really hear you anyway. Not when he was feeling like this. You do send a text, just in case he looked at his phone while you were gone, so he wouldn’t get too concerned should he look around for you while you were gone. 

It starts to rain while you’re out, the trip back to the car and into the house have you wetter than you’d like and you see that Rin is still sitting outside. Thankfully under the umbrella that sat on your patio table, but it was getting cold out there so he couldn't sit out there forever. If it was warmer you’d let him sulk out there for as long as he wanted, but you’re a better wife than you often give yourself credit for and make your way to the patio after you get the groceries put away. Your clothes are still a bit damp, but you don’t care much about that as you step out on the patio and come to stand behind him with a hot cup of tea. He doesn’t flinch as you lean over his shoulder to place the cup on the table in front of him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he sighs. 

“You’ll get sick out here,” you warn, kissing his cheek and smiling when you feel the slightest quirk of his cheek as he reaches for the teacup. “Brought that out for you, you’ve gotta be cold.”

“Thank you.” 

You don't say anything, only kiss his cheek again before pressing your face into his neck. You feel the stutter of his breath, and your hands come to rest on his chest as his shoulders shake a bit. He wasn’t much of a crier, so this had to have been a very deep pain that he’d been trying to process. In these moments all you could do was be there with him, there wasn’t a single thing you could say that would make him feel better when he was emotional like this.

“It just sucks,” he starts, his hand coming to rest over one of yours that you turn over so you can hold it properly. “I know - I fucking know - that I’m good enough. For my career, for my team, for you, but I second guess it all the time even still. I feel like I always have to overcompensate and that shit is exhausting.”

So this was a Sae thing. That was interesting. Usually that happened after he saw Sae, either at a family function their mother demanded they both be present for, or a soccer related event. Not to this level of emotion, usually Rin just got mad and then you got some incredible sex so he could get the agitation out of his system. This was deeper, something he must’ve been suppressing for a while. Probably a couple years, it wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case.

“Rin,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze as he tries to even out his breathing. “You’re right; you are good enough. More than enough, actually. If you were lukewarm; you wouldn’t have this career, and you wouldn’t have me.”

“No?”

“I prefer my men hot,” you tease, kissing his head as he hums his approval. “Now, inside with you, let’s get you warmed up.” 

He hesitates, but you still step away while still holding his hand in an effort to pull him from his chair. When he looks up at you, you see the streaks on his cheeks from the tears shed and the pain in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide. He got so in his head sometimes, making himself the inferior man when in all actuality he was the best person you knew. The only man you could ever love, because he was the only man who loved you in the way you deserved to be loved. A bit stubborn at times, but he wouldn’t be Rin if he wasn’t a bit hard-headed. 

“Babe?”  

“I love you,” he whispers, and for a moment you wonder if he considers the words to be as fragile as the vase broken earlier in the morning. For him to be speaking so softly, the words likely carried off in the wind to be brought back to you like a boomerang. Rin’s love just happened like that. 

“I love you too, Rin,” you return the whispered affection, finally pulling him up from his seat, the teacup left forgotten on the table as you lead him inside. 

He takes the initiative to get you out of your still damp clothes, scolding you softly for going out in wet clothes and warning you that you’d get sick that way. It’s funny that you’re getting scolded for being sick, when you’d been warning him of the same thing - the boomerang returning in his signs of love and care in the little gestures he performed. 

“Warm shower?” Your question gets an immediate nod, leaving him to lead you up the stairs and into your bedroom. “You know it’s going to be okay, right? Like, we’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles back, stripping himself of his clothes as you start the shower. “I know that, but sometimes…I dunno. I know I will always have you, it’s the rest of it that concerns me sometimes.”

“There’s always Germany,” you assure with a shrug, stepping into the shower and reaching out to him. “Now get in here, Itoshi.”

“Yeah, yeah, Itoshi,” he grumbles, a smile on his face as he steps into the shower. He acted so put out sometimes, even when he’d just spent hours sitting on the patio feeling sorry for himself, but that was your husband and you loved him dearly. 

It was more for him than it was for you, but he still keeps you under the spray more because you’d complain about being cold. Eventually he’d get around to redoing the master bathroom of your home so it wouldn’t be an issue, but for now you’re content to have him pull you into him so you can share the warm water. His hands set to washing the skin of yours that he could reach, and you let him despite having already showered.

“Let me get your hair, Rin,” you request, stepping back and watching as he kneels in front of you. He presses a kiss to your knee as you lather the shampoo in his hair, making sure to massage his scalp as his mouth trails up your thigh. “Last time you pulled this shit, I almost broke my neck.”

“Learned from my mistake,” is all he says as he continues up his path, bringing your leg up to rest on his shoulder. “I want to take care of you like you take care of me.” 

“We support each other,” you say around a sigh, feeling his fingers glide over your clit on their way to your pussy that was already getting wet for him. “Whole point of being married.”

“Yeah, but I was a prick this morning and I want to make it up to you. Give me that.” You can’t deny a request like that, not when he’s looking up at you with bright blue eyes that serve as pools into the conflicted soul that belonged to Rin Itoshi. So eager to serve, wanting to keep you happy in any way that he can - wanting to make sure that you loved him for the rest of your lives. As if anything could make you want to leave him.

“Yeah, okay,” you murmur, cupping his cheek as he smiles up at you. These are truly the moments you cherish, when he’s relaxed and you see that smile that’s reserved for you and you alone - when he could just be Rin Itoshi the loving husband and cat dad who hummed while he cooked and would initiate slow dances in the kitchen while he waited for water to boil or rice to cook. The Rin who could relax, instead of the Rin that the public saw - the captain; cool, calm, and collected, who would show affection in public but nothing more than a chaste kiss on your lips or to the back of your hand, and only on occasion talked about the cat. 

With your approval, two fingers sign their day into your cunt and he kisses the inside of your thigh while he looks up at you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” The compliment has your face warming, something you’d blame on the heat of the shower. His thumb rolls around your clit, earning a soft moan to leave your lips as your head falls back against the shower wall and your hand finds its home in his hair. “My gorgeous wife. Love of my life.”

His fingers increase in their pace, curling in a way that he stroked against the spot that had you crying out in pleasure as the pressure builds in your core. He’s encouraging you to cum around his fingers, telling you how badly he wanted you to get off as his other hand rubs against your clit quickly. 

“R-Rin,” you gasp, your hand fighting in his hair while your other hand tries to find purchase anywhere on the slick wall behind you. Falling was not on your agenda for the morning but you knew he'd catch you if you did - learning from his mistakes or whatever he'd said. 

“That’s it, c’mon, cum for me.” 

And you do, crying out Rin’s name as you do and pulling his head as close to you as you could. All he could do is smile, his free hand holding your hip as he licks his fingers clean of your essence. Your leg is carefully removed from his shoulder, and he makes sure you’re steady before grabbing the body wash to continue washing your body. 

“What about you?”

“This wasn’t about me,” he retorts as he stands, massaging the lather into your skin as he does. “I’ll be okay. Let's get you cleaned up and into bed to rest while I make lunch for us.”

You make it easy for him to finish your shower, and he even dries you off before letting you get dressed while he did the same. And he does get you tucked in with some soft music playing on the speaker that rests on his nightstand, kissing your forehead as you relax into the pillows on his side of the bed. They still smelled like his shampoo, a rich minty scent that provided so much comfort, you didn’t think he’d ever understand while half-heartedly complaining  about how you messed up his careful arrangement of his pillows for optimal neck support or whatever it was he complained about.

“Have I told you that I love you recently?” you ask once you’re properly snuggled into the blankets while he sits on the edge of the bed stroking your cheek. 

“Yeah, but you can say it a few more times, I don’t mind.”