#no because i saw the exact same post and thought the exact same thing

[gildeddlily]

season 2 started off beautifully. I was ecstatic at the end of episode three, for the simple reason that it had the same spirit as season 1. Vi feeling like she made a mistake so big trying to reach Powder instead of seeing Jinx and the danger she represented that the only way to fix that for her was to join her oppressors. Caitlyn destroying all the progress she'd made, unlearning what she'd been taught about Zaun by being with zaunites like Vi, the moment one of them killed her mother, and embracing her roots we can say, talking of bad blood and "I thought you were different"- showing that the internalised racism was always there ready to resurface the moment it had an excuse to. Caitlyn saying that her mother being killed by a teenager who's never dealt with her trauma and mental illness is the same thing as Vi's parents being killed by members of a military institution, disregarding everything she knew about the pain and abuse Vi went through because of the Enforcers. a "men get abused too" situation, in which one ignores the social and historical background of that type of violence to feel less sorry about it. they were perfectly well written, because they are things we see everyday. my father taught me as a child that black people crossing the Mediterranean to look for work in Italy were a good thing, and now that he's had problems at work with one he's started saying the opposite. a gay man I knew laughed at trans folks and said they made things worse for us, ridiculing them in the company of straight people to feel less threatened. (not the exact same thing as what happened to Vi, but you get what I mean).

those are real things, and Arcane has always been good at showing real things.

later on, episode seven, Jayce fell down. he landed in the deepest hole of Zaun, broke his leg, was forced to wear a brace to walk, suffered and had to claw his way back to the surface, to Piltover, in a strange metaphor of Viktor's journey and life (saw a post talking even more beautifully about this, will put the link here if I find it again), and once he met Viktor again, he told him his illness, his legs, he, were beautiful. not despite everything. because of it. and now he can understand him a little more. now he says "your imperfections are beautiful" and we can believe him, because he's not speaking from the perspective of a man trying to convince his friend to stop harming others. he's a man trying to make his partner see that he still loves him, now that he's finally understood him after years of trying to reach the truth and always being stopped by something, and that he understands him enough to know why he's harming others, and that he cares for him enough to think that he will be able to understand why it's wrong. it's Viktor accepting the inevitability of being seen by someone who went to hell and back to reach him.

those were fucking beautiful arcs. they were.

and then?

Vi saw Caitlyn become what she'd always said she wouldn't become, and there were no repercussions. Catelyn got to walk away and live all the same. she lost an eye to Ambessa, but it was no punishment for what she'd done. how many people did she harm? how many people did her actions have repercussions on? Vi shouted at her once, and then it was like it had never happened- which is still real, I guess. it happens everyday. but I didn't see any wish to make us see how that was wrong. I don't want to be told "this is wrong", I'm old enough and smart enough to understand this, but I also think I can see the difference between trying to show deeper meanings and not wanting to deal with difficult plot lines.

and Zaun? it was sad. pathetic. years of abuse were what, forgotten and then vanished in thin air because there was a common enemy? that, sadly, isn't real. it isn't. years or oppression can't be forgotten so easily, not by the oppressed, for one "glorious" fight. it's lazy. what started as a good depiction of reality turned into an american wet dream of big fights and sad sacrifice scenes and epic love stories that cross any difficulty, and economic and social difference. don't you dare say something against Caitlyn and Vi's ending, they went through all that, they deserve nice things. they do. many other people did. no one cared about them tho.

so.

epic failure. good soundtracks tho.

[azaharinflames]

Yeah BuckTommy’s ending made me not want to bother anymore. I had originally stopped in Season 5, came back in Season 7 (didn’t miss anything SL wise because it’s all the same) and yeah no point at this point to trying anymore cause all we are going to get is more of the exact same stuff we have been seeing season after season. Nothing will change. People just need to move along to new shows. Only thing 911 season 7 and Season 8 did was reintroduce the world back to Lou Ferrigno Jr and now people are starting to look for him in other shows. He deserves it.

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask

I feel you. To be quite honest, I started to feel disappointed back in Season 6. Buck's post-lighting strike theory had a lot of potential, and 612 definitely made me curious and like I needed to watch what happened next immediately. And then we got the superpowers (which I liked, actually. 613 was fun), and then... nothing, really. Buck meets Natalia and, as much as I tried to like her... it just felt lazy, half-cooked, and extremely forced. Which in retrospect makes sense, as they thought it was the end and they wanted to give Buck a HEA, but... yeah, it disappointed me a lot.

But then Season 7 managed to capture me with the initial emergency, and then Tommy graced our screens, and... here we are. Disappointed once more, but now to a point where I just know to not give them more chances - for now, at least. And as much as I would love to be proven wrong, for the foreseeable future I'm afraid.

One thing is true: I'm glad so many people discovered Lou. I first watched him in one ep of HIMYM, fell in love with him, didn't find out his name then and eventually forgot by the time I was watching 704, fell in love with him in 911, and then when I saw someone recognize him post 704... things made a lot of sense in my mind lmao.

But yes - I'm very happy he at the very least can take a lot more fans from this. I love his acting and the way he emotes, and he just seems like a true sweetheart. Hopefully, we get to see him in more stuff soon, he's definitely shown he can make an audience fall in love with him.

My inbox is always open for ranting, venting, discussing (911 or whatever), and for opinions (popular or unpopular, hit me with it)

Take care <3

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[here-there-were-dragons]

i have to wonder what super hardcore militant vegans think should be done about obligate carnivore animals, because in all my painfully-rapidly-approaching-30-years i've literally never actually seen anyone give a clear consistent much less halfway feasible answer on that

[444lotus]

how i manifested (+revised) my dream body ౨ৎ

This is my first post on my new account, though I am NOT new to the law and NOT new to loablr either. This post is specifically about how I manifested my dream body instantly with no technique besides knowing :)

PART ONE - the old story

In the old story, I was so fixated on my body and my weight all of the time, I was tracking my calories and weighing myself and my food obsessively and constantly gaining and losing weight. Back then, my beliefs were that 1) Excess food causes weight gain, 2) If I don't track my food and weigh myself, I will become too fat/skinny, and 3) There is something wrong with my body, and I need to diet/exercise to fix it.

Noticing these beliefs were key to changing the way I viewed food and my body, and therefore changing how I knew food to effect me and how I knew my body to be.

When I was overweight, I knew my body was too big, I knew I was eating too much, I knew excess calories made me gain weight. When I was underweight, I knew I had no appetite, I knew I was too bony, I knew that exercise makes you gain muscle which is why I had none, etc. I had to identify the limiting beliefs that made me know my body was a certain way.

PART TWO - writing the new story

Once I identified the beliefs that were holding me back and kept me from my goals ("I know I eat too much, even if I affirm I'm skinny, I'm still going to gain weight."), I could then change them. I wrote down a list of these beliefs, like I did above, and came up with reversals. For example;

"I overeat, so I will gain weight" -> "Calories aren't even real, so I can eat whatever I want and stay the same weight."

"I eat junk food, so I'll never be skinny" -> "I love how fast my metabolism is, I can eat junk all day and still stay so skinny." or "Junk food is just like other foods. Raspberries can't make me fat so neither can hamburgers."

"I don't exercise enough to be toned" -> "It's crazy how I'm naturally so toned and fit without trying."

The key for me was changing key beliefs that kept me dieting and exercising to lose weight, to sever the tie between calories consumed and weight, and hours exercising and muscles. These are limiting beliefs. We literally create our reality. Not ice cream, not soda and chips, none of that can overcome YOU as a divine creator. It sounds silly when you spell it out like that, doesn't it?

PART THREE - how i did it

Okay, now we understand that the secret is to change the rules of our own reality to allow us to know a higher truth (my higher truth? I am a skinny legend). So how do we put this into practice?

All you have to do is know. You set these rules, so you know they are true, reality is bound to them. You must know you are successful, know that reality is in the 4d, and feel truly satisfied in that realm. You can do this using whatever method you need to, but personally, I just knew deep within me that I was my ideal weight, and that nothing could change that, that is simply the reality, that is simply the way things are. I thought about old pictures I took of myself, and remembered how skinny I looked in them, I thought about the last time I saw my friends and how much littler they said I'd gotten, I thought about the last time I stood on the scale and how it read the exact weight I knew myself to be. And I just knew, deep within me, that was simply how things were.

And the last step, for me, was to feel truly joyful at this realization. To feel satisfied it came into fruition. Without seeking confirmation, because I already KNEW.

And what do you know? Pictures of myself in my phone from weeks ago, they were my ideal body. The girl I saw in the mirror when I stood up from my meditation? She had my ideal body. My clothes? XS and S, all of them. I had revised my ideal body all the way back to the day I bought them. And confirmed this by checking pictures I took in the dressing room.

I'm telling you right now it is possible if you know in your heart you've always had your desire. It's always been fulfilled within you. You make the rules because you are a divine creator. Nothing outside of you can change what you know to be true.

That's all for now ౨ৎ

[cutielando]

Okay I have a request. Lando with his long time girlfriend and when Oscar joins the team they warn him to stay away from Lando’s drivers room after a race because him and reader love to ‘celebrate’ no matter the result of the race. And Oscar finds out the hard way. But McLaren are like use to it. 🤭🧡

Please and thank you.

poor oscar | l.n.

my masterlist

In all fairness, Oscar had been well warned about Lando and his girlfriend’s antics post-races. Given that the walls in the motorhome were very thin, as Oscar had stated previously, the team felt like they should let Oscar know what he was in for.

He hadn’t quite taken to heart what he had been told. He had been thinking to himself, how bad can it actually be? And oh boy, it was bad.

You and Lando had made a pact from the beginning of your relationship and when you started coming to all of his races that you would do something to celebrate his every race outcome, no matter how good or bad. You vowed to see every race as something positive and take something from each one.

The McLaren team had become accustomed to your shenanigans, knowing not to go anywhere near Lando’s driver room in the hours after the race. They had come to learn to stay away the hard way, if you know what I mean.

And yet, Oscar chose to ignore them. Why? He didn’t even know.

Maybe it was just pure curiosity, maybe it was ignorance, one could only make suppositions. 

If he had managed not to hear anything that even remotely resembled the warnings he had been given up until that moment, he was in for a treat this time.

You had attended the Miami GP with Lando, catching a break from your studies and having promised him that he wouldn’t have to go to a race alone after failing to attend Japan. And imagine the joy you had felt once Lando had taken the checkered flag in P1. Scratch that, imagine what was going through your mind about the celebrations you were about to have with Lando as soon as he came back to the motorhome ;).

Your boyfriend had been thinking the exact same way, trying to make his way back to the hospitality as soon as he possibly could, but still politely stopping for interviews and photos or autographs.

But once he finally reached his room and saw you waiting for him, dressed only in your underwear, he knew he was in for an enormous treat.

Oscar hadn’t heard Lando get back. He had been so deep into thought and so focused on the music he had been listening to with headphones on that he hadn’t heard the door opening, the squeals that you let out once Lando had practically pounced on you as soon as he locked the door. 

However, he was pulled out of his thoughts when he started hearing bangs, moans and dirty talking through his wall. At first he had thought he was hearing things. There was no way you were actually celebrating that loudly, right?

Wrong.

When he turned off the music and took off his headphones, he realized just how fucking loud you guys were being.

He didn’t even know how to react. What was he even supposed to do? Was he just supposed to leave his room and find somewhere else to hang out until you guys were done? Should he knock on your door and ask you guys to keep it down? No, Lando deserved the win and winding down whatever way he saw fit.

Sighing, he felt himself growing redder once the sounds on the other side of the wall only intensified. He couldn’t just stand around and listen to his teammate probably getting the fuck of his life after his maiden win, so he figured he would just get something to eat and hang out with either Mark or Logan.

The moment a member of the PR team, David, had seen him coming from his room, his cheeks a heavy crimson and refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he realized Oscar had just been the victim of Y/N and Lando.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” David asked him, an amused smile stretching on his face.

Oscar blushed even heavier, if that was even possible. Shyly, he nodded, making David laugh and pat him on the back.

“I didn’t think they were actually that bad” Oscar said, playing with his fingers as his ears could still pick up the noises he had done his best to avoid.

“We tried telling you, you didn’t want to believe us” David chuckled, patting him on the back again as he departed.

When you and Lando finally emerged from his room almost an hour later, the both of you laughed when you noticed how Oscar was avoiding eye contact with the both of you.

Poor Oscar…

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[embv]

anyway if anyone is curious about where i’m at with the dsmp lore, i’m at that awkward stage where my initial hyperfixation for a character has died down and i sit back and think about their actions and their behaviors and i look back at how i justified/rationalized those as being better (or done with good intentions) than they were, and at how i would have characterized this character in the height of my hyperfixation, and i realize: wow, this character is more of an asshole than i was willing to admit, and i think part of me even knew that but was just too protective of my idea of them to admit that, maybe, despite already knowing they were an asshole, they were a Lot meaner than i treated them as, and i’m going to have to adjust my characterization of them and their subsequent dynamics with other characters (while still remaining in line with canon content and canon themes) because of it.

[darnell-la]

Can you do a follow up with the project x!wolverine x government employee!reader (it can be smut or not I just really like that story)

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader

warnings: tied up, trapped, sniffing, hunting down, roughly fucked against a tree, pinned, choking, “dragged” through the woods, fucked on the patio, ass slapping, hair pulling, etc.

note: we will be making a part three where they contact Charles's school for mutants to warn them about the government, but the government hacked into their call and found out where Logan was hiding out and keeping y/n.

Logan will be more sweet in the next one as y/n grows out of the fear of him.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

when y/n woke up, she was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. It took her a while to realize, she was in a basement full of big freezers and sinks. For a second, she thought she was going to be cut up and frozen to feed to whoever until she saw a man sitting on the stairs, leading upstairs.

“W-Where am I?” Y/n said, voice coming out lower than she expected it to. “Home,” the man spoke before getting up. He came out of the light, now shaking off the figure.

He was shirtless, yet had jeans on. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know why. Was it because Project X had her tried up in god knows where, or was it the fact she could see all of his chest?

He was sweaty, hairy, ripped, muscles flexed every once in a while, veins popping from his skin and smooth.

“It’s passed midnight, but I bet you’re hungry. Went to the store then cooked us up some food,” he spoke as her eyes traveled all over his body. She felt like she was in a trance.

“Up here, princess,” his voice was closer. She didn’t notice how close he was until his fingers lifted her chin. Even though her feet were a few inches from the ground, he was still towering over her.

“You hungry?” He asked with a head tilt. “Let me go,” she spoke, not knowing what else to say. “No,” he spoke back, voice sounding stern. She could hear the seriousness behind his tone.

“And if you try runnin’ you’ll regret it,” he said, body now touching hers. Y/n quickly went to kick him right between his legs, but he knew what was coming. He surprised her by pulling her leg to the side of his waist. She went to use the other, but he did the exact same thing.

“Relax, princess,” the man smirked down at her as she tried wiggling away, but doing so made her cunt rub up and down his clothes length. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but he felt the wet spot soaking into his jeans.

“If you act good, I’ll fix that for you,” the man whispered in her ear, pulling her body closer to his. Y/n held bad the whine she almost let out. What was he doing to her?

Logan eventually pulled back and walked to the corner of the room to lower her rope. He then walked back over to the girl as she looked down, not knowing what to say or do to the man.

He wasn’t giving off any type of serial killer vibes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to do any kind of killing. A part of her felt saved than she’d ever had, especially because of her job, but she felt off just letting this man win what he wanted. And that was her.

After y/n’s hands dropped from the ropes, she lifted her knees and connected with his groin. The man fell to the ground in pain as she pushed past him, running up the stairs.

The slightly frightened girl ran towards the front door, thinking she was free until she noticed a device on the lock that needed a code. “Fuckin’ hell,” she shouted before running around the rest of the house to find another way.

“You ain’t gettin’ outta here, bub!” Logan yelled from downstairs, finally getting up from the ground. You would think a mutant like him wouldn’t feel that pain, but he did.

Y/n panicked, thinking she was doomed until she had an idea. A stupid one which she slightly felt bad for doing but she did it anyway.

“Son of a bitch!” Logan finally made it up the stairs to the sound of glass breaking. She was out and running for her life, knowing he’d be furious about his genitals and glass.

Y/n ran as fast as she could through the woods, a bit terrified of the dark and animal noises, but the real animal was back at that house. He is an animal, right? That’s what they said he was.

Y/n had stopped after a few minutes to catch her breath. He’s never been the kind to run.

As she rested, she looked down at her feet, swing scratches and blood, but she’d get over it. She needed to get away.

As the young woman went to take a step to continue, she heard a noise behind her. She quickly looked back but saw nothing. Maybe it was a squirrel or something, she thought.

Y/n turned back around to start walking until he saw the view of an angry Logan in her face. “Where ya goin, bub?” He asked. Y/n instantly screamed at his presence.

Before she could move, the man tangled her to the ground, pushing his hand down the middle of her back to pin her into the dirt.

“No!” Y/n fought in anger, thinking she was actually going to escape. “When I said no, you ain’t listen, now didn’t you?” The man said through his teeth as he forced her to dress up.

“Logan, please! N-Not out here, not out here!” She begged, thinking people would be able to hear this scene going on and go and check, just to see her getting drilled into the ground.

“No one’s out here, princess. Not for another mile or so — You’re all mine out here,” the evil low laugh he let out as he pulled his jeans down was insane. He hadn’t even pulled himself out of his boxers. He wanted to take his time with her out here.

Y/n tried kicking her legs, but what was the point? He could smell her leaking down her folds. He knew she wanted this, and he was going to make her understand.

“I said, no!” Y/n shouted as she swung her elbow back as hard as she could, making him fall back. Y/n crawled away, but only a few inches to look back at him. The fear that grew inside of her was unbelievable.

Logan‘s jaw was dislocated. She popped his jaw.

Y/n’s words got stuck in her throat. She wanted to apologize as the man slowly looked up. He didn’t mean to hurt him. She’s not like that.

Before she could open her mouth, Logan popped his jaw back in place with his hand before moving it around to make sure it was normal.

“You fucked up, bub,” the man said before crawling towards her. It didn’t even look like a crawl. How did he do that? Logan lifted the girl up by her neck and pinned her to the closest tree.

“Ow!” She cried out, feeling the tree bark scratched her ass through her thin and silky nightgown. God, she needed to change soon.

“Logan, ow!” She hoped he’d have sympathy for her, but the way his eyes looked, he was far from it. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that’s what he was doing.

“N-No, no!” She pushed at the man’s hand, but that did nothing. He ripped her nightgown off like a strand of hair. “Logan!” She shouted, feeling the breeze on her body until his body rubbed against hers.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Logan growled as he pulled himself out of his jeans. “I don’t like that,” he had as he shifted up and between y/n’s legs until they were lifted off of the ground. Her toes barely touched the dirt.

“I-I can't, Logan,” y/n remembered how he fucked her the last time, and he wasn’t even angry at her. Logan let out a chuckle that he soon cut off after he slammed up into her cunt.

Y/n cried loudly as her arms gripped his shoulders. Logan stared directly at her, his face seemed too serious to look at. He was angry. Very angry. But why? It’s not like the pop in his jaw hurt like any other thing her went through?

“P-Please,” she choked as he pushed her neck into the tree harder, just to get a reaction out of her. “Shut the fuck up,” the man said like the tree wasn’t about to break or come out of the ground from how hard he was pounding into her.

“I can’t,” she whined in pain, but too much pleasure to not tighten around him. The way she squeezed him, egged him on further.

“Oh, you can’t? Does it look like a give a fuck? Huh!? Does it!?” He spat as his pelvis roughly slapped against her clit. She couldn’t think straight. This man was fucking her like some wild animal in the woods. She’s literally being fucked by an animal in the woods.

“F-Fuuuck,” y/n dragged with a broken moan. Logan let her neck go and used both of his hands to grip and hold onto her legs, keeping her up and against the tree, not caring how much she scratched at his shoulders and chest.

The man growled in her ear, cock slipping in and out of her entrance as her asshole puckered. He was huge and slagging around like he wasn’t.

Y/n couldn’t say, but her broken cry warned him she was cumming, and when she did, it was hard. “Goddamnit — Fuck,” the man grunted, pinning his feet to the ground to keep up his hard abuse.

“So fuckin’ good — Fuck!” The man couldn’t keep himself together as his nails dug, into her thighs. Y/n was now crying, not because she was scared, but because of the overstimulation followed by a thrust that wouldn’t slow down.

“Yeah? Yeah, is that the spot, baby?” He asked, knowing it was. “Think this is over just because you came? Think ima stop because you’re drunk on my cock? How did that go last time?”

The girl shook her head, half ass answering his questions. “So cute,” the man chuckled before pulling y/n off of the treat and throwing her over his shoulder to give her a small break.

He wanted his fresh meet alive and functioning when he fucked filled her up. Last time he didn’t get that chase, but he swore to god he would this time.

Because she ran so far, he had to walk it, giving y/n some time to come to life. “Lo-“ y/n cut herself off, still having trouble speaking, but held herself well enough for him to understand.

“No more,” she begged, but he wasn’t having it. “Please, no more,” she begged again as she noticed him passing his car parked several feet from his cabin.

“Logan!” She shouted, now kicking and screaming again. The man grew angry but wanted to take her to the bedroom for what he was about to lay on her.

“Logan!” She shouted, gripping onto the side of his house which was a long wooded stand. “Y/n, stop it!” He let her down with a shout as he began pulling her, but she wouldn’t budge and he didn’t want to accidentally rip her arms off.

“No!” She screamed before he finally pulled her off, causing her to fall on the front steps in front of his house. The way she fell and landed on her hands and knees made him say, fuck it.

“You wanna be fucked like an animal? Fine,” he said as he came up behind her, pulling his cock back out before plunging into her, earning a scream that made him know he hit the right spot instantly.

Logan grew an evil smile across his face as he tugged on her hair, making her arch her back before slapping at her ass, causing her to bruise lightly.

“Little sluts get treated like slut, y/n. You could’ve be fucked nice and sweet on the bed earlier, but no — You wanna run,”

Y/n’s mouth slacked as her eyes crossed from how hard the man was pounding on her. “You see that, bub? Look right up there, right into that camera,” he forced her to look at his security.

“Gonna tie you down and make you watch how dumb you look on my dick,” the man spat, making y/n feel the burn in her eyes, but not from embarrassment. From too much pleasure.

“Yeah — Yeah,” the man repeatedly groaned as y/n squeezed him with a shake in her body. “So fuckin’ pathetic, I might have to give you back,” Logan said, knowing he’d never do such a thing. “Nah,” he added drill in her head that she ain’t goin’ nowhere.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[chefkids]

Claire is Carmy's projection of Sydney.

Costuming is one of the most straightforward ways to tell an audience what a character is like and what their role is. Claire's costuming choices show how she was literally just a clear blank slate for Carmy to project Syd onto. So come peel this onion with me.

When he first sees her after being away from him for a while she's wearing a green jacket, who else famously has worn a green puffer jacket all throughout the series and when she reconnected with Carmy after she left?

When he takes Claire on that post office trip drive through Sydney's favorite UPS route, Sheridan Road, she's wearing a brown jacket which looks very similar to the kinds that UPS drivers like Sydney would wear.

When Claire is at the party with him trying to get with Carmy and pursue a new relationship, she just had a denim jacket. Which we have also seen Sydney wear a denim jacket around him when they were trying to start a new relationship aka partnership together by building the new restaurant.

And then we see her white button shirt, dark pants, and the blue denim jacket when Carmy takes her back to the restaurant, which is basically all Carmy saw Syd wearing for most of the time while at the restaurant when she was in her white button down, dark pants, and blue apron.

When he cooks for Claire we see her for the first time in a tank top at the exact same time we see Sydney the most undressed she's ever been in a bra.

When she's in his kitchen she's in his white t-shirt she tries to have a somewhat vulnerable moment with him. She asks him what he is thinking about when he's clearly stressed and he deflects to just complement her. Later when he is with Syd in her white t-shirt in their kitchen at The Bear, he is vulnerable with her about his mother and tries to get her to be vulnerable with him and she finally tells him about her mom dying.

At Friends & Family night is the one time we see her dressed in the most uniquely herself way in a black dress, and she looks like she's ready for a funeral. Which it essentially was the death of her and Carmy's relationship that night. We also know that this is what Sydney will be doing at the start of Season 3, going to a funeral with Carmy. RIP Claire. (yes i know it's marcus' mom but the metaphor is still there and this is still a comedy after all)

Claire has very little identity of her own because Carmy never bothers to know her like he knows Syd. When Claire is on her own she's always in her scrubs, because he doesn't have much else of an image of her besides the fact that she's a doctor now. But he knows Syd well enough to know the exact designer brand she likes to wear and make her a custom jacket.

He knows about Syd's mom dying because he repeatedly asks her about her family and parents without even knowing them. Claire told him about her cousin dying and he basically said "damn that sucks" even though he knew him personally. He knows about Syd's struggles with her job history through catering and fine dining. Claire told him about her life as a doctor and the only thing he came out with was that it was a time intensive job and that he thought she liked taking care of people by helping to fix them. Which is exactly what he tells Sydney he notices about her later on. She likes to take care of people and to fix things like she tried to fix the restaurant.

He didn't give af about Claire's life or personality, he just wanted to project Sydney's onto it. Carmy wanted to want to be with Claire, because everyone around him told him it was what he should want from Mikey to Fak to Richie. So he chose to see and project as much of Syd, who he already knew deep down he liked but was too scared to pursue, on to Claire. That's why he took her on that drive and why he made her the Sydney's pasta recipe that he knew Sydney already liked. Because he doesn't bother getting to know Claire, he just assumes Sydney's identity on to her. And what he did come to know and do with her that was her choice, like going to a party with drunk friends, only ended up associating her with his alcoholic mother and his brother at their Christmas party.

And in the end he still realized he couldn't just replace Sydney in his mind with her.

[whitesunlars]

I saw you ask something about the “dyke march” incident— what was that? Can’t reply directly to that post so thought I’d ask here :)

In 2017 the Chicago Dyke March banned the Jewish Pride flag.

Because the magen david could be "triggering" to participants because of it's association with Israel. mind you the magen david represents all Jews, not just Israel and the Jewish Pride flag is different than the Israeli Pride flag.

Very clear difference. Except if you're antisemitic and want an excuse to ban Jews, sorry I mean (((zionists))), from Pride.

That happened the first pride after I realized I was bi and I've never felt safe as a Jew going to Pride since as the expulsion of Jews from the event was defended and copied by other Pride celebrations. The 2019 D.C. Pride, where I lived at the time, did the exact same thing.

sources:

tablet mag bbc the forward nbc news (for the 2019 DC dyke march) the forward (for the 2019 DC dyke march)

[eamour]

"fulfillment…?"

i feel like many of you still feel so overwhelmed by the word "FULFILLMENT". i had the urge to clear this up, mainly because i saw comments of people saying things along the lines of "everything used to be better before we were told to fulfill ourselves!" or "what even is fulfilling? can’t i just affirm and persist?".

i thought this was actually pretty obvious but maybe it still confuses some people. manifestation terms, pretty much the very majority of them, all imply the SAME. they all refer to the same thing. it’s just that we like using and creating synonyms to re-define and re-describe words to make it more understandable, or to simplify manifesting.

to "fulfill self" could mean anything. it actually means so much. it means whatever you want it to mean. it means whatever FULFILLMENT means to you. i'll give you a list of what "fulfill yourself" could also stand for:

embody your desired version of self.

get into the state.

live in the end.

identify with your desire.

feel the wish fulfilled.

claim your desire to be yours.

shift your state.

accept your desires as true.

experience it in imagination.

be and have it in your mind.

think from your desire.

shift or redirect your focus.

change or flip your assumptions.

persist in acceptance.

believe you have or are it.

feel it real.

and more …

all of these things refer to the exact same thing — how to MANIFEST. we just happen to have a bunch of ways to explain it.

so, when somebody talks about "fulfillment" or "saturation", it always means what YOU think it does. if you read a post that’s asking you to fulfill yourself, it’s asking you to do whatever the hell you want to get into the state of mind in which you have or are what you desire to either have or be. this also includes methods like visualisation, affirmations, and so on.

to "fulfill self" isn’t something new. it’s not an extra step you need to take after (1) desiring something, (2) claiming it to be yours and (3) persisting. think of it as the last two steps combined.

manifesting will always be the same. it doesn’t change, and neither does the law just because we say "fulfill and continue to do so" instead of "affirm and persist". therefore, i think, if you feel overwhelmed by all of these terms, you may have not fully grasped the concept of manifestation or don’t understand that these definitions are all alike.

i hope this could help. 🙏 so please, let’s not demonise every new word trending on here which is supposed to make manifesting more comprehensible.

with fulfillment, ella.

[battybiologist]

Please reblog for sample size.

[sunahsvt]

—DON'T BELIEVE THE SIGNS

miya atsumu x fem!reader

+ angst (no comfort what y'all expect), lovers to exes

other tags: microcheating, LAZY WRITING, babe/baby nicknames, small cases

wc: 833

note: not proud of this one but i was itching to start and finish this tonight. so :-) not proofread yet again. also if yall read this note pls drop some hq angst series in my ask box plsplspls

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS

atsumu loves you. he definitely does.

a year into the relationship— and six months of courting— he can say he's contented with you, and he shows it through his words and actions.

there was a time when atsumu drove past the hotel where his ex— who he once thought of was his greatest love— booked their first anniversary to.

you were on the passenger seat, your hand on his where it rests on your lap, fully unaware what was going through his mind. both his hand twitched. you, who didn't let things go unnoticed, giggled at him, brushing your thumbs on the back of his hand.

in his eyes, of course, you're his greatest love.

atsumu walks through the aisle, cart in tow. his eyes saw a chocolate bar he hasn't seen in a while— the exact chocolate bar that his ex had given him for valentine's one time.

he shook his head, asking to himself why he was still reminded of her.

he didn't think much of it the first and second time, but as time went by and more things reminded him of his past lover, he was almost convinced the universe was giving him signs that maybe he hasn't really moved on— that maybe you two weren't really meant for forever. he was almost convinced.

and because he wasn't fully convinced, he didn't do anything about it, but you were beginning to notice something was off.

"baby, did you get my chocolates?"

"yeah, it should still be inside one of the paper bags."

you jumped off of your seat, eyes tired from looking at your laptop screen due to your work from home job.

you croached down to look for the 3 musketeers chocolate you dearly love, but there was only maltesers and twix bars. you frowned.

"i don't see any muskeeters in here, babe," you whined.

his eyes furrowed, "huh? i bought maltesers. aren't those your fave?"

you shook your head, your lips forming a thin line.

atsumu's eyes widen slightly in realization, you almost didn't catch it.

the silence passed for a minute, both of you staring at each other. you weren't sure if you should confirm it, but in your mind, he didn't need to.

he mistakened her favorite chocolate as your's.

he apologized, but that doesn't mean it didn't get worse. that doesn't mean signs about his ex didn't stop showing up, and that doesn't mean it didn't gradually made him uncomfortable.

y/n: can you take out paella for dinner? cant cook tonight :-(

tsumtsum: ocake

y/n: ty! i love you!

tsumtsum: i love u

when atsumu got home that night, he had bought paella for take out good for two. being a considerate boyfriend, he made sure it wasn't seafood since you're apparently allergic to shellfish.

but when you padded your feet to the dinning room and saw the chicken and chorizo paella, your eyebrows knit together. you weren't a pick eater but seafood, especially shrimp, was your absolute favorite. you were looking forward to having seafood for dinner.

but why isn't it seafood paella?

you gulped the hurt that you were feeling rising up your throat from your chest. atsumu was too busy looking for something to drink in the fridge.

"was there no seafood available?"

he glanced over his shoulder to look at you, "what do you mean? you're allergic."

"babe."

"what?"

"i love seafood."

this time his eyes slowly closed, realizing another mistake. another thing he forgot about you.

"what are you not telling me?"

he couldn't tell you. not when he wasn't sure, so he shook his head, apologized and made up an excuse.

from there on, he kept trying to make up to you. but it just didn't feel the same anymore because it either felt like out of obligation or he was trying to cover up the other things he hurt you for. each time he does, he doesn't realize his temper was thinning.

you tried to communicate with him over and over again whenever something felt off.

but your patience, your empathy, your love can only go so far.

what he doesn't notice is he wipes his lips or cheek whenever you kiss him.

what he doesn't notice is he glowered whenever you talked.

what he doesn't notice is he stopped exerting effort.

he doesn't notice he's showing all the signs that he's gradually falling out of love.

he doesn't notice that he's losing you.

but you do.

you, the silly lover girl who didn't let things go unnoticed.

you tried one last time to communicate to him your feelings. irritated, he only said, "i'm tired of this."

so after you waited him to go to sleep, you decided to leave.

you place a hand on his forehead and kiss the back of your hand as goodbye, fearing that even in his sleep he'd find annoyance in it— that it'd wake him up or he'd wipe the kiss away even in his sleep.

that was the last time atsumu has seen you.

and he noticed now that he shouldn't have believed in the signs.

general masterlist | haikyuu masterlist

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[summer-nights19]

Hellooooo <3

I saw your post about Tokyo Debunker and I would like to know your headcanon about guys with a partner who is shy about showing affection (hugs, kisses…,). It can be with the boys you want, although, could you add Rui and Yuri? I'm so curious how that dynamic would work with them, since one literally can't be touched and the other is a complete Tsundere haha

Thank you in advance, many hugs and kisses ✨️

Hi Anon <3 I honestly love this

Characters: Frostheim, Vagastrom, Jabberwock, Hotarubi (+ Rui and Yuri)

Jin

Oh God. He loves flustering you (he obviously won't do it in public - he has a reputation to uphold !)

Has you sit on his lap, cups your chin, wraps an arm around your waist ... you name it

Thinks it's adorable how shy you are about physical contact. Although that's something that he won't tell you (at least not at first) he definitely teases you about how easy it is to get you to become a blushing mess

Will find any excuse to hold your hand "to enhance his stigma" (he really just likes seeing how red you get)

Tohma

He thinks it's so cute that you get that flustered from the slightest

Isn't big on physical contact in public, especially at the start of the relationship, but will "accidentally" brush his arm against your or touch your hand if you're both reaching for the same thing

The most he'll do in public is cup your face or kiss the back of your hand

Acts all innocent afterwards while delighting in how flustered you look

"My, MC, do you feel OK ? You've gone quite red,"

Luca

It took him a little while to realise that you got flustered easily - at first, he freaked out because he thought he had done something wrong or you were suddenly feeling unwell

Like the gentleman he is, he'd never deliberately fluster you in public - he hates the idea of embarrassing you by mistake. Honestly, the most he'd do is hold your hand (if you're ok with that), link arms, or kiss the back of your hand when he's greeting you

In private though it's a whole different question

He's very gentle, especially at the start - hugs, kisses on the cheek, hand holding ... but that doesn't mean he finds it any less cute when your cheeks become bright red

Kaito

Ah yes the boyfailure

You two are a match made in heaven

It takes him a WHILE to notice how flustered you are because while you're freaking out and blushing, he's busy doing the exact same thing

After a lot of talking to each other (and taking it slow) you both begin to relax more about physical affection, though it takes a of encouragement and reassurance for him to reach that stage

As your "knight", he'll try to initiate any physical contact. However, if you decide to initiate anything, especially in the early stages, he will literally combust

Alan

A bit wary of touching you at first, just because he's used to putting up so many walls to protect himself, and the idea of being intimate is scary at first

He's also terrified of hurting you by mistake - even if you're pretty tough, he's a ghoul, and one of the strongest ones at that, so he'll still see you as fragile

However, after some time passes, he'd start to initiate things like hand holding or cuddling. Sometimes, he'll even pull you onto his lap

When he first saw you flustered you got, he was worried he'd done something wrong. However, after he understood that you were just a bit shy about physical contact, he found it so sweet

Won't try to fluster you in public, but now he can't keep his hands off of you when you guys are alone <3

Sho

He understands why you're blushing straight away and teases you endlessly about it

Will definitely fluster you a bit in public - he secretly loves PDA because it makes him feel like you belong to him

However, most of that is left for when you guys are in private - he'll shower you with praise and kisses

Definitely spoon feeds you your food sometimes or does the whole "you have something on your lips" thing as an excuse to kiss you

If you're cooking together, he'd 100% hug you from behind while instructing you (not that it's easy to focus with his body and the smell of his cologne that close to you)

Leo

He also teases you constantly, but a bit more maliciously about it than Sho

"Oh gross, Honor Roll. Why are you getting all red ? I bumped into you by mistake,"

Even though he won't admit it, he'll try to fluster you subtly because seeing his reaction is a huge ego boost for him (he also finds it adorable, but you'd have to torture that out of him)

It takes Leo a while to become more deliberate about physical contact, but when he does, he's all about PDA - he loves showing you off and seeing you blush when he's doing it

Haru

When you guys first become close, his touch starts off very platonic - a hanc in your shoulder, a friendly hug, that kind of thing

However, when he sees how flustered you get after you two start dating and he becomes more intimate, it has a bigger impact on him then he'd thought

Definitely teases you in a good natured way and tries to make you blush if you two are alone

When he's worn out from all his chores, he'll call you yo his room so he can cuddle you

Ren

Although he's completely in denial about it, he's also a flustered mess

He's not used to physical affection and is a bit closed off, so it takes him a bit to start exploring that area of your relationship

He'd definitely pretend it's accidental at first- something like your fingers brushing or your legs touching when you're sitting next to each other

When he sees how pink your cheeks become, he grows even more flustered - why are you so adorable

"Wh- Hey MC, what are you staring at ? You're going all red like an idiot,"

Despite his efforts to hide it, you make him just as flustered

Over time, with a lot of patience (mostly on your end) you guys begin to feel more calm about physical affection. However, it'll definitely stay private as Ren is not into PDA at all

Towa

Another guy who keeps his hands constantly on you - he's so clingy

Whenever he sees you, he'll hug you hard and for a long period of time.

Since night is the only time you get to hear his voice properly, you two often go out then and fall asleep cuddling under the stars

When he noticed you got flustered, he didn't have much of a reaction to it - he just kissed your cheek before continuing to hug you

Subaru

As a gentleman, and someone who's quite shy, Subaru doesn't do much physical contact at first, limiting himself to hugging you, holding your hand and giving you brief kisses when you guys are alone

At first, your reaction concerned him that he'd crossed a boundary by mistake. However, it was weirdly comforting for him when he realised you were flustered, because, despite not showing it, he felt exactly the same way

Would never fluster you deliberately, although he thinks you look cute - he's just too much of a gentleman. However, he'll definitely begin showing more physical affection as you both grow more used to it

Haku

Despite his charming act, this man loves touching you at every chance he gets. He won't even bother to hide it

Holds your hand everywhere you go and always pats your head/ruffles your hair after hugging you. When he's seated, he definitely loves having you on his lap

He likes PDA, but is also more than OK with only showing physical affection in private - it's ultimately up to you

Teases you a little bit about how much you're blushing, but it's mostly in a flirty way - he honestly thinks you're adorable

Zenji

Positively beamed when he saw how much you were blushing after he tried to hug you - he finds it so sweet that even the idea of his touch makes you react like that

Although he can't technically touch you yet, he keeps working on it. For now, he just tells you what he'd like to do with you, and he finds it delightful if that's enough to fluster you

He's too much of a gentleman to try to fluster you publicly but he'll definitely do it in private

Gets so clingy if he ever does find a way to touch you

Taiga

He's super clingy - it's surprising if you manage to leave his side at all

Definitely has you on his lap while he gambles to "act as a lucky charm" (show you off to the casino patrons)

If he's lounging about in his room, he'll definitely want to make out or sleep with you

Finds it cute when you get flustered and goes out 6 his way to make you blush at every chance he gets

Romeo regularly tells him to get a room

If he catches one of the other casino patrons looking at you, that guy will go missing by tomorrow, and your neck will be full of love bites to remind you of who you belong to

Fico Romeo

Romeo finds it endearing when you get so flustered, but he has a reputation to uphold, so he won't be telling you that anytime soon

Although his PDA is pretty limited, he'll still link arms or drape an arm around your waist so the rest of the casino knows you're his

When you're alone, he definitely gets an ego boost from flustering you deliberately (he also gets a lot more handsy - loves when you sit on his lap as he works on his desk)

He'd definitely say something like "Hey, BB ! Come over here," before pulling you into his lap

He'll tease you about how stupid you look when you're going all red, but he actually loves it

Ritsu

Honestly, physical affection isn't really his thing, so it would take ages for him to notice that it flusters you

He smirks slightly when he sees your cheeks going red - you're just adorable

Definitely not one for PDA. He also doesn't show much physical affection in private compared to others, but he does enjoy it when you guys share an intimate moment

Rui

The fact that his curse means that he can't touch you is the biggest source of heartbreak in his life, although he doesn't let you see that

He yearns for the day that you're both cured and he can hold you and let his hands explore your body, imaginig how you'd react

His fantasies are spurred on when he realises that you get flustered so easily - he thinks you look so adorable when you blush

In the meantime, he tells you about everything he wants to do to you and showers you with praise. This guy is a massive flirt

If Rui could touch you, he'd enjoy PDA - he'd love showing you off on his arm to the rest of the academy

Yuri

Yuri would never tell anyone this , but it takes him some time to feel secure enough in your relationship to start exploring physical contact. The very fact that he's considering it is off putting to him - it was just never something he thought he'd want or need

At first, he uses your checkups as an excuse to touch you - he lets his hands linger a bit longer than necessary and helps you put on your patient robe because "you're taking too long"

Seeing how much you're blushing honestly just makes him freak out more - you just look way too cute

Starts insulting you and telling you to stop looking at him like that

However, after passing the early stages of the relationship (and after you show him a lot of patience) you start showing each other proper physical affection in private

He's not really the type to go out of his way to fluster you, but he'll definitely tease you light heartedly

Masterlist

[strangebiology]

John Oliver just did an episode on body donation, which was very well-reported as usual.

It cites some older news including this amazing series on body brokers by Reuters. Some thoughts on anonymity being an issue:

It is shocking that there is no regulation on what it means to donate your body to "science," although, I'm not sure exactly who can say what that definition is or should be. Also, plenty of people would be happy to have their bodies used in a museum, but you CAN'T, because body donations are shuffled around and anonymized. We wouldn't have any issue with consent if we let people who WANT to be on display be on display.

When I read The Red Market, an amazing book about the trade in human body parts, it really highlighted the issues with mandated anonymity. WHY does a deceased heart, kidney, or blood donor need to be anonymous? That policy has led to horrific abuse of donors all over the world (egregious examples are given in China and India), living and dead, and the recipients have no idea because of that mandate. Mandated anonymity is a shield against regulation, public understanding, and accountability.

I wonder if people believe in anonymizing things because they think that makes the death not real. I've noticed people selling all sorts of human and animal remains with no description as to where they came from, and no one asks, and no one complains. I understand; sometimes some information is lost to time, or a business owner maybe can't take the time to verify the exact origins of things. Fine.

But take for example all these human fetuses for sale on Facebook. I'm not here to argue about that, although it's odd, and I understand both sides of the controversy regarding selling them. When I saw those posts, no one bats an eye.

Then when someone offered to sell her own aborted fetus (context: this person went in for an abortion but was told the fetus was dead anyway) people freaked out. In the same group where they're buying the fetuses of strangers. So...it's only ok to sell body parts when the person whose body it came from did not consent? That's our standard?

The same goes for animal body parts. "Hey, buy these dead rats!" Fine and dandy. "Buy these dead rats! Here is some context about their lives and/or deaths--" Disgusting! How dare you! Those were living things!

Death is disgusting and horrifying and I'm NOT saying that everyone has to think about it all the time or look at dead bodies or even understand it. What I am saying is that when we complain about transparency and enact policies that make it impossible to actually understand who these body parts are coming from, or to track them, that breeds an industry where abuse of consent is hard to avoid.

Lastly, the end of the Last Week Tonight show showed what happens when you let donors be known. It's beautiful.