#nobody looks like this in my uni so maybe i'm reaching

[saintzweig]

college boyfriend mike faist :")

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

[terras-domain]

Which idol has your favourite:

Eyes

Mouth

Face

Bust

Midriff

Back

Butt

Thighs

Legs

Side Profile

Overall Body

terra's note: OMG, terra actually posting for once??!1!1?1!!!1? Yes I'm alive, not too well, but alive. Irl stuff hit me like a truck to the fact I wish I was hit by a truck (kidding ofc!) I'm sorry for not posting in months and I think I'll be more posty(?) after my uni stuff is over, which is like May. Peace for now <33

OMG I WANTED TO DO THESE TYPE OF ANSWERING SHIT FOR SO LONG THANK YOU FOR ASKING (although I imagined this being a few months back I'm just too stupid and on hiatus to even find it). But ANYWAYS, I'll try to answer the list without repeating any idols! Thanks again @toshareelsewhere for asking this btw, and so sorry if this took so long for me to actually answer it!

EYES

I figured there's a really big pull for Yeji to be the best in the business when it comes to eyes, but me personally, there's nobody's gaze stronger than Minnie's. Like, you just know those eyes screams lust and I think it just gives her a really strong feeling from her when you're staring into her eyes. Not to mention how her eyes literally fit any type of contact lenses which makes her look very versatile and her eye colors really fun to watch every comeback cuz you know she'll rock each and every one of them.

MOUTH

I'm a big mouth/lips enjoyer so there's so many I would choose ngl. So some honorable mentions are Wonyoung, Nayeon and Yeri. But Yunjin, oh Yunjin, my pookie bear, my sunshine....okay I'll stop my bad. Yunjin's lips and how she likes to show off her expression with her plump lips is just pure ecstasy. Like her lips alone just convinced me she'll give you the best blowjob you'll ever experience in your life and after.

FACE

I mean, I'm biased here. I'm a Winter guy 100000000% of the day and I can't say her face is top tier. Like it's so sweet and pure, yet so sensual and hot at the same time. It definitely gets you feeling some type of way. Definitely one the best faces in Kpop, and maybe a perfect face to cum to aswell~

BUST

I'm assuming bust is boobs, cuz I always get them mixed up with ass for some reason but since you also asked for butt, I'm guessing I'm on the money here. And is this a basic choice? Yes. But am I wrong? Definitely not. 10/10 bust.

MIDRIFF

My absolute favourite tummy in the industry, and I believe there's a lot that's on the same boat on this one. Yoohyeon is also a popular pick if I remember correctly. But Sullyoon's is just so soft yet so defined, I don't know everything about her is amazing, especially her midriffs.

BACK

Does this count as back? I'm not sure. But Yujin's back view is definitely a sight to see, like it's like the gates of heavens or something, idk it feels like you're getting free food or something lololol. But yeah, if in future she exposes it a bit more, like Momo's MiuMiu look, that is when you can start digging my grave.

BUTT

Man, another basic answer, am I just basic ;-; BUT(T), Yuna's ass sure is crazy. Like you don't see any other human rocking her body type, if this was the physique she was after, I'm sure she's proud she reached it <33 and for us, well, it's more ass content and more of her ass running around our heads all day 24/7.

THIGHS

For some reason, at the time I'm doing this, I can't think of a better name for thighs than Hanni. I'm sure there's other good thighs in kpop but for some reason, all I can remember is Hanni's. Maybe I'm consuming too much Hanni nsfw posts but who knows. In the end, her thighs, are great thighs, would nibble on them after eating her out 10/10 definitely.

LEGS

Now I will say this, not the biggest feet guy, I honestly like thighs as the best feature in legs. So I was blanking here. I honestly just searched up every idol I know was lewded quite often for their pretty legs and BOOM, IU hit me the most. So yeah, my pick, is IU. I think it's the way she walks and how it's in the middle; like not too thick, not too thin and not too long not too short or something like that. Maybe I will indulge in more legs, feet related stuff in the future to find out about it even more, who knows right?

SIDE PROFILE

Sana. End of discussion. But fr tho, how are you gonna compare to anybody else with Sana's side profile. It's just perfect. The way her nose, lips eyes, everything about her side profile is just perfection. The Minatozaki family had some extra love cooking the night they made her or something I swear to God.

OVERALL BODY

Another bias pick, yes I know. but it's fucking JIHYO! I can't say there's any flaws in this woman, absolute zero. From top to bottom, there's just nothing bad about her looks. If you combine every good feature to be looking like an idol, Jihyo has them all (tbf I think most, if not all idols has the perfect body in beauty standards) but Jihyo's is to me, the best built kpop idol. Any part of her is just cummable 100/10 she's a go to lewd, especially if you just met someone online and was like trying to lewd them an idol, Jihyo is probably one of your picks!

[these-emo-thoughts]

Maybe I'm reaching but like, hear me out (if you want).

So I originally thought that the Last Twilight novel (the book inside the show) was representing Day and the acceptance of his situation. The blurb is very telling of that and it makes sense from a creative point of view, as it is synonymous with the premise of the show.

Hello. My name is Mee. I'm about to fade away. According to the myth, only sunshine can break the curse Or perhaps I'm just having a nightmare Who knows? Tonight, when I close my eyes, all of this will vanish.

While we don't know what is going to happen at the end, we can gather that this applies to Day. He's going blind, it's obviously a hard thing for him to accept because it's totally changed his life - he can't play badminton anymore, he's terrified of being pitied by his friends, he doesn't feel comfortable going outside, etc. He's also not sure if he'll get the cornea replacement (he always says "when", btw, whenever he talks about this; I'm not as hopeful as I always say "if"). The book was also recommended to him by Aon, who knows what he's going through, therefore of course, it's meant to be a parallel about Day's situation.

But, I'm stuck on one line: "Only sunshine can break the curse."

I think that this line also applies to Mhok, and really goes to show just how similar the two of them are in their individual battles. While Mhok is not the character going blind, his life has been a shitshow. Parents dead, sister gone, unable to pay for uni, sent to prison for 6 months, drowning in debt, down-on-his-luck, no job, bad reputation... his life is "cursed", until he gets to work for Day. So, if that is his curse, then sunshine can break it.

Sunshine = Day.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Day is in a dark place; however, little by little, with Mhok's support, he's slowly breaking out of it. By episode 3, Day is eating out of his room and walking around the house to get his own sauce for his food, and he's facing his fears by going outside to the university he was scared of returning to and to a busy marketplace while taking public transport. Sure it doesn't go smoothly, but he's trying. And, with Mhok's help, he's succeeding. What Day doesn't know, is that Mhok is in his own dark place because of his past experiences. And every tiny step to success that Day makes isn't just breaking him out of his "blindness" curse; it's breaking Mhok out of his "darkness" curse. He's learning so much from Day, whether it be purely from a standpoint to help support him further or from a standpoint of slowly falling in love. It's in the way he looks at him, smiles at him, protects him, looks out for him. Day is giving Mhok hope, just as Mhok is doing the same for him; they're breaking each other out of the physical and metaphorical darkness, so that they can see the light in their situations and overcome their obstacles.

The other lines in that blurb can also apply to Mhok too:

About to fade away: The hopelessness he felt after being released from gaol, with nobody wanting to commit to offering him a job because of his past.

I'm just having a nightmare: See above, about his curse.

Who knows?: Very telling of his attitude. Mhok is very "go-with-the-flow", nonchalant. He doesn't have solid, well-thought plans. Whatever the future holds, who knows?

So while the Last Twilight novel is a commentary in the show about Day, I think that it applies to Mhok as well.

Thank you for reading to the end, if you did. This might be incoherent rambling, but it's been on my mind since my 2nd rewatch of Episode 3. (2nd rewatch of lord knows how many by now. I just love this show so damn much).

[amourdeslangues]

i wish i'd been encouraged to develop my skills in maths more when i was at school

because i feel like i could actually have been really good at it! i remember when i was a lot younger and very interested in maths, and i even participated in a couple of maths competitions... but everyone was always focusing on how i excelled at languages and writing and creative things, and it never really occurred to me that i could be good at maths and science

and i remember being so enthusiastic about the subject when i was in seventh grade (8th, maybe? not sure), participating in class all the time, trying really hard. and at the end of term, even though i aced the exams, my grade for in-class participation was way lower than i expected it to be. my teacher told me "you speak up a lot, i can see you're trying, but you make too many mistakes. it's not good enough."

so for... idk... 12-year old me, the logical conclusion was that i just suck at this. i liked the subject, but i wasn't good enough at it, and i never would be.

not long after that, the pandemic started. during lockdown, no one gave a shit whether you were putting in effort and doing well or not. (once i didn't hand in any assignments for two months, which is a whole other story to unpack, and nobody ever reached out to me.) so there was no one to encourage me, to say - hey, you could be good at this if you put in the effort.

that didn't change until 11th grade. i had a maths and chemistry teacher who actually made class enjoyable, who made me want to try my best.

we had to do a test at the beginning of the year so he could gauge our strengths and weaknesses and plan the lesson accordingly, and i got... idk... 98% or something? far ahead of everyone else. i was top of my class in every exam that followed. i discussed concepts that interested me with this teacher. i remember two occasions where i worked on finding proofs for theorems we'd talked about in class, because i felt like the general lessons weren't in-depth enough and i wanted to gain a better understanding.

this teacher was the first one to notice my interest in that sort of thing. he tried to convince me to take part in a programme that would allow me to attend university-level maths classes while still being in high school (pretty uncommon where i live, but not unheard of). he even talked to my mum about how i was gifted and how my skills had to be nurtured and developed. i was baffled. i had been thinking of myself as being mostly mediocre at anything STEM-related up until very recently, and i still had a really hard time imagining myself in that field.

i ultimately declined the offer to take maths at uni. while i felt flattered, some part of me still couldn't comprehend that it was actually realistic, and i thought i'd be better off focusing on my high school studies and graduating with top marks. after all, maths weren't my true passion, right? i've always been into literature and languages and there's never been a doubt that my career is going to be in that field. so... best to keep everything the way that it was.

(side note: i did, however, follow this teacher's suggestion to take part in chemistry competitions, which i'm still really grateful for, and had a lot of fun doing)

the following year, i had a different maths teacher, who was nice, but i never got the impression that she really cared. i aced all my exams without really thinking much about that fact, continued working hard with graduation as the primary goal. i still looked for more in-depth material on my own when i had some spare time, read a couple of books on advanced mathematics, still tried to understand the logic behind the theorems that we were taught as unquestionable facts, still tried to formulate my own proofs occasionally.

i got a perfect score on my final maths exam (as well as on the other finals) and graduated high school.

lately i've just been thinking of what i could have had. i feel like i'm looking back and seeing so many missed opportunities, so much wasted potential. what might have been if i hadn't stopped participating in maths contests at some point, if i'd gone on to higher levels of competition? if i'd been encouraged to learn about the subject beyond the curriculum (which i now think i would have been capable of)?

maybe i wouldn't have excelled. maybe i would have ended up being... not mediocre exactly, but skilled in comparison to other students my age rather than in general. i think i would have had fun, if nothing else - but maybe i would have decided that it wasn't for me after all.

but i never got to find out. i never really tried. i was not even encouraged to entertain the possibility of trying until i felt like it was already too late. and that's what bugs me, that remaining thought of: what if?

i don't want to go around blaming my past teachers, my schools, my social environment. maybe the fact that i didn't persevere despite all of this shows that i wasn't passionate enough about the subject after all.

but still, i wonder what could have been, and i don't know what to do about it.

[esta-elavaris]

Nobody Knows

Okay, starting things off with something I wrote back in 2015 for my first creative writing class at uni. It's a short horror story, the assignment was literally just "write a short story with roughly 1.5k words" bc they were great with giving us serious freedom to write what we wanted to write, and this was what I came up with. I think it was the first 'serious' original short story I wrote, I was 18/19 at the time (so, disclaimer on that score if you're going to compare it to the stuff I'm posting now at almost-27 lolol), so the quality will probably reflect that, but it has sentimental value and a bit of other meaning to me, so I'm posting it as is. Definitely a "look at what I dredged up from the archives" kinda thing rather than a "wow isn't this great?" kinda thing.

I remember I went into that first semester, looked at the people in the class around me and just thought "oh god, I am so fucking out of my league here" -- but then, three months later, my course leader (who ended up being my personal tutor in the years that followed, and my favourite teacher across my whole degree) really enjoyed it and his very kind feedback resulted in the moment where I stopped and thought "man, maybe I actually have something going with my writing". It also ended up in my uni's Eng Lit magazine, which I still have a copy of for archival purposes ✨

Plus, if I reread it too closely to edit it to the quality I like to think I can produce now, I will end up convincing myself not to post it 💀 so here! Have some baby!writer stuff.

By the time I reached nineteen, I was scared of Nobody. That was what I called him - Nobody. My own private little joke.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody.”

“Who are you staring at?”

“Nobody.”

Not a lie, but not a response that would get me thrown into the nearest mental hospital. I considered that a win/win. It also described him accurately – for he didn’t seem to have a body. All I ever saw of him was shadow. Sometimes it would be clearer, forming a silhouette, and other times he’d just be an ever-shifting mass of darkness. I’d been too young to be frightened by his appearance when I first found him in my grandmother’s attic. I’d thought my cousin’s tales of hauntings in the house had always just been made up to scare me, but regardless, Nobody didn’t scare me – not at first.

By the time he did, I’d known him for a decade, and had only resented him for two of those years. The resentment began at my seventeenth birthday party. Before then, having a negative thought about Nobody was utter blasphemy in my book. I would never allow a bad word to be said about my guardian, protector, teacher and presumed imaginary friend. Not one. My mother would suggest that I was too old for this behaviour, and that it was time for Nobody to go away, only for me to go ballistic. I learned to keep him to myself after that, but my good opinion only strengthened, if anything. What could be bad about somebody, living or not, who was so willing to protect me? Who toppled over the chairs my bullies sat in? Who snuck me the answers I needed in tests? It was absurd, but I kept my mouth shut, and as far as everybody else was concerned, my imaginary friend vanished. It meant little to me – it wasn’t like any of them could see him in the first place.

Then things changed. What was meant to be the best night of my life turned out to be the worst. No parents, no neighbours, no rules. Just lots of booze, music and fun. Or so I thought. The first hint that something was awry was when all of the alcohol became mysteriously unavailable to us. Packs of beer would end up in locked cabinets, with the keys nowhere to be found. Bottles of vodka would fling themselves towards the sink and smash there, any potential source of amusement quite literally down the drain.

Then came the issue of the music. My best friend spent the entire evening wrestling with the CD player, wondering why it would refuse to play certain songs (the ones I knew Nobody hated), or why the volume refused to go any higher than, a pretty pathetic, “six”. The final straw was when every guy at the party suddenly became dramatically ill. Every single one. Headaches, vomiting fits, fevers, or even just a sense of pure unease. They needed little motivation to leave such a pathetic party in the first place. Within an hour, the only guests left were my two best friends. My seventeenth birthday bash had been demoted to a sleepover worthy of a ten year old.

After that, Nobody became less of a trusted ally and more of a domineering parent. Where I used to look at my hungover friends with a smug smirk, happy that Nobody had prevented me from drinking enough to end up in that state, I now looked at them with envy. They were normal. They drank too much and endured the consequences. When they were too lazy to study for tests, they failed. Life was difficult and it was unfair and they complained about it relentlessly. But that was what made it fun. They had to think about their next move, take responsibility for themselves. If they forgot their keys, they’d be locked out – they didn’t have any ghost to open the door for them. Without the dark you find yourself unable to appreciate the light, and so life became unbearably boring. I knew that whatever was approaching me in life, it would be fine. Nobody would handle it, whether I wanted him to or not. I hated it, and I hated him for it. My life was no longer mine to control, but instead belonged to somebody who was dead. How twisted was that? Each day was monotonous, and I found myself learning little - if that - from the limited life experience I had. I made no attempt to have an eighteenth birthday party.

Spurred on by thoughts of my failed seventeenth birthday party, and non-existent eighteenth, I made my decision. On the night of my nineteenth I took a lighter to the living room curtains, setting the place on fire. In the grand scheme of things it seemed like a perfectly safe and reasonable thing to do in the name of distraction. By time the blaze was out and smoke stopped billowing out of the window, I was already down the street, peering out at my home from behind a wheelie bin to make sure that I wouldn’t be returning to the charred skeleton of the house at the end of the night.  What I did return to, however, was a foreboding mass of shadow that I was too scared to tear my eyes away from. His presence had gone from endearing to terrifying in seconds flat.

My bedroom was trashed. Books were scattered on the floor, my clothes were strewn around any and every surface available. Even the door had a long, jagged splinter running up through the middle. Nobody made no move, no attempt at communication. Instead he stood stock-still in the corner, shadows bristling.

I didn’t sleep at all that night, instead sitting up in bed, staring at the void that was once my dearest companion with a sense of dread filling my chest. Hours later, when my drunkenness gave way to a fierce headache, all of the painkillers in the house had mysteriously vanished. I’d hoped it would end there, the same way arguments with my parents went. I’d lie, they’d be angry, eventually we’d all forget about it and move on. Nobody wasn’t the type to move on.

That’s where the decision to get rid of him came from. I couldn’t handle it. The constant hounding of my steps, the uncomfortable atmosphere, the lack of sleep. Sure, without him my life would be mundane and ordinary, but what was I with him? An adult with no decisive powers and an enforced bedtime.

When the day came, I kept up the façade marvellously. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and as far as he knew I was simply visiting a new friend at her apartment. Nobody didn’t show any sign of realising something was up until it was too late.

“That’s it?” I asked the ‘mystic’ dubiously as she finished burning incense and tracing odd symbols on my arms with the ash.

“That’s it,” she waved a hand “You may leave. He cannot follow.”

Nobody’s head shot up in clear alarm. His silhouette jerked towards me, but didn’t move. Couldn’t move. His head snapped between the old woman and I, almost like he was watching a tennis match, before it settled on me again and he unsuccessfully tried to move. The shadows around him spiked outwards.

“Oh, hush! You have no power here!” the old woman snapped impatiently.

I paid her as promised, but kept my gaze on Nobody. It was a weird feeling. Like seeing a caged tiger at a zoo. So much power, but no ability to use it. He’d gone from running my life, to being unable to take even a single step in my direction, all thanks to a bit of ash and some fancy words. For half a second, I faltered. I wanted to apologise to him. Pleasant memories surfaced – my toys putting on shows for me as a child, dancing on invisible strings, or even not having to pay to use the tube, as the ticket gates opened on their own upon my approach. But then the shadows spiked angrily again, and the regret was replaced by the more familiar fear.

When I walked out of that apartment, for the first time in ten years I was truly alone. I was truly free. Free to make my own decisions and live outside of Nobody’s grasp. It was then that life decided to catch up on all the years’ worth of lessons it had been unable to teach me until then. My freedom lasted four minutes. If I’d had Nobody with me, he’d have noticed the car that I failed to until it was too late, so used to not even having to look before I crossed the road. The last thing I saw was his dark silhouette, standing motionless in the window overlooking the street.

[riley-francis-moore]

Happy 18th Birthday!

Who: Riley & Xavier ( @xaviernottheprofessor ) What: Riley & Xavier make big confessions before going out to celebrate X's birthday When: December 31, 2009. That's right, babes, we're throwing it way back! A/N: The one and only time Riley & Xavier consider smooching

XAVIER

Xavier stared at his outfit in the mirror as a frown slowly formed against his lips. His best friend was still in the bathroom getting ready and Xavier was sure that Riley had had enough of the outfit changes. It was his 18th birthday , first birthday in America and they'd be going out to a few clubs with some schoolmates. There was promise of good company, music, and maybe someone to come home with even if Xavier had other ideas on his mind. He never quite got into the whole wanting to be in a relationship thing and as dramatic as he was, he swore he'd be single forever which would be just fine with him. "Do you think the jeans are too wide, mate? I don't want to look like I'm going to parachute away or something." He shouted out from the living room, incredibly annoyed with everything Xavier chose to throw on. "Do you think Sarah's gonna be there? I think she likes me or maybe you. Unsure. The Jury isn't out yet on that. She likes one of us that's for sure." Xavier didn't mind Sarah. She was funny and smart and she liked the same things he did. She was super into anime like Xavier and liked to doodle while he practised his lines for theater. She liked to stick around the two of them and Xavier enjoyed the familiarity of it all but at the end of the day, if she did like him, she wasn't his type (whatever that meant). It was frustrating to think about it. Maybe Xavier was just broken. This is why he hoped that Sarah liked Riley so that those two could run away together and be an item already. "I think Clayton's marrying Athena. I know we're only 18 but I have a good feeling about these things." He sighed and straightened out his shirt, deciding on his current outfit before plopping on their couch and reaching for a magazine. Xavier flipped through the pages of GQ, wondering when they subscribed to it and stopped at a photo of Prince Caspian. "Bloke's kinda cute." He murmured and then tossed the magazine back on the table. "Rilesss. Riley! Are you okay?"

RILEY

Riley laughed at Xavier’s first few outfit changes, but he excused himself to the bathroom to get himself ready when his best mate decided he still wasn’t satisfied with what he was wearing. “What?” Riley peeked his head out the door. “No, your jeans are fine, mate. Make your arse look good and all that,” he said and rolled his eyes. Riley left the door cracked. At this point, he was dressed and just fixing his hair, putting some gel in it. “Sarah already texted me that she’s going to be there.” Riley thought that if she fancied him, she was barking up the wrong tree. But nobody knew that. Well, almost nobody. Even Xavier was unaware of his short fling with a guy he met in his English class. “I think Sarah likes the idea of dating one of us. It’s the accents.” He hoped she wanted Xavier rather than himself. Riley didn’t respond to Xavier about Clayton because he was in the middle of brushing his teeth. “I’m fine!” He eventually called back and walked into the living room. “Do you really think Clayton is going to marry her? He won’t wait until he’s out of uni to propose?”

XAVIER

“My arse….true.” Xavier checked his ass out a few times, admittedly feeling a bit self conscious about it but he would go with what Riley said as his best friend wouldn’t steer him in the wrong direction. “I think you’re right about Sarah.” He laughed thinking that the girl he sorta fancied. “I don’t think I’m looking for anything serious? Not since Philomena. Ehhh we shall see.” Xavier looked up at Riley when he walked in and smiled. “Oh you look nice! And no, I really don’t think so. He’s obsessed with her and has fancied her since second grade. It’s God awful.” He then chuckled. He will wait to marry after Uni because our parents will rightfully kill them both if they do otherwise. But yeah, it’s happening.” Xavier pointed to the magazine on their small coffee table. “Are we subscribing?” He then picked it up and flipped right back to Prince Caspian. “Have you watched the new Chronicles of Narnia film yet? Have you seen this bloke with the shiny hair?” He picked up the magazine to show Riley. “Got the girls crazy about him.”

RILEY

Riley shrugged a little when Xavier said he wasn’t looking for something serious. “You don’t have to. Just because your brother is down hard doesn’t mean you have to be. Philomena ending up being a bitch. I don’t blame you for not wanting a serious girlfriend.” Riley grinned when Xavier said he looked nice. “Thank you. Have to look good for when you inevitably take a bunch of pictures and post them on Facebook. I put new batteries in my digital camera by the way,” he said. “At least your parents will talk a little sense into him and make him wait.” Riley had to quickly think of an excuse for the GQ magazine. He loved the way the men looked in it. “I got a free subscription. It was between that and Entertainment Weekly. This has less gossip,” he shrugged. “I haven’t seen the new film yet. I may or may not. Narnia is for kids.” Though the actor playing Prince Caspian was well fit. “He’s conventionally attractive. It’s not surprising.”

XAVIER

“Thank you ! Now you tell him that since he thinks you being a year older makes you an expert on love and shite.” He grinned at the photo comment. “oi listen when we’re both older you’ll thank me for taking all these photos of us and our American adventures as mum and dad like to call it. And yeah I took little Philly off my top friends on MySpace too. So I’m pretty sure she’s got the hint.” She was his first and that was as terrible as one might imagine. Another reason he thought maybe he was broken. “Yeah my parents have it covered. They’re already planning a talk for the holidays so be prepared for that. I know you love the drama.” He grinned, still staring at Ben Barnes face. “It’s not for kids!” He chuckled, listening to Riley. “Hm. I wonder sometimes, do you think someone like him would fancy me?” He stopped short, realizing in that moment how open he was being. No one knew about his curiosity and about possibly being Bisexual. Xavier didn’t really understand it himself. “Like…” he scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “Oh never mind”

RILEY

“Oh god, I’m far from being an expert on love.” Xavier didn’t know the half of it. “I will either than you for capturing my youth or I’ll be mortified that my antics were captured on camera,” he laughed. “Oh good. Does that mean I’m back to being your number one?” He teased. “Ask your mum if I can come over during the winter hols. Lord knows I’m going to want to escape my parents.” Riley almost missed the comment about Ben Barnes, and he just looked at Xavier for a moment. Was X like him? “Whoa! No never mind! Him specifically? I’m sure he’s straight. But someone like him? You’ve got a lot to offer anyone, X. Doesn’t matter what gender they are.” He walked over and hugged Xavier. “You know you’re my best friend no matter who you date, right? As long as they treat you right, I’m happy.”

XAVIER

Xavier laughed at Riley's comment. "I'm sure our future children will enjoy the antics or make fun of us for them. Although, I will bet my entire scholarship fund that Clayton will be first in that department too." Xavier smirked. "Excuse you, you're always my number one. And yeah! You can come. I already asked. She asked me first." Riley was practically family, and his parents would love having him over for the holidays. He was hoping the sudden drop of information didn't make things awkward especially with them having to leave in bit to celebrate his birthday. Hearing the softness in Riley's voice made him feel at ease and he accepted the hug, wrapping his arms around his best friend and closing his eyes for a moment. He pulled away enough to look up at Riley. "Thanks. I--uh...I've never dated a guy before though. I've thought about it. I've thought about it a lot. I'm just weird and I'm already a mess when it comes to dating girls. Guys would be a whole other experience. I don't know. I'm overthinking it, I think. But yeah, I like guys and girls. It's weird because I've done all these things with Philly and other girls but I have no idea what I'm doing with guys? And and how do I know if a guy I'm interested in likes men? I don't want to assume or anything. Oof this is a lot."

RILEY

“Both, probably,” he chuckled. Though Riley never pictured himself having children. He didn’t even think he’d be able to get married. “Oh, Clayton will beat us to every milestone,” he shook his head. Riley was beyond grateful to the Mitchell family for their generosity and kindness to him. “You know dating another man isn’t a prerequisite to being bisexual, right? You just have to know you like boys and girls,” he said. “It’ll happen for you eventually. Being with a guy and all that. I think… figuring out if a man likes another man comes down to shared looks and, well, vibes?” He shrugged. “While we’re stepping out of closets,” Riley started. “I’m gay. Gold star gay at that.”

XAVIER

He smiled at Riley's words, hoping they'd be friends forever. Friends long enough to see each other grow individually and with other people. He had seen firsthand how shitty Riley's parents were and Xavier wanted him to experience the kind of love that helps heal a lot of those wounds. "Absolutely. But that's okay. " His family loved having Riley around. They were big on fostering children and giving them a home when needed. Plenty of his and Clayton's friends had figured that out quickly and had come around whenever they needed a family. He hoped someday to offer that kind of stability to others. Maybe to kids of his own. "Yeah, and that much is true--the part about me liking boys and girls." He sighed, feeling as if a heavy part of his life had been lifted. He nodded, thankful for Riley's advise. "Yeah, that all makes sense. I'll watch out for the vibes then." He placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder as he listened. "Gold star gay, huh?" He cracked a smiled and placed his head on Riley's shoulder. "Riles...I know and I love you all the same."

RILEY

Riley blushed a little. “You know!? Am I that obvious?” He laughed and put his hand over his forehead. “I was trying to be subtle. And secretive if I’m around my mum and dad,” he said. Riley was truly afraid of what his parents would say or do if they learnt he was gay.

XAVIER

Xavier let out a soft chuckle. "I don't think you're obvious at all but we live together, mate and we've known each other for a very long time. You're like the long lost triplet. It's just a feeling I had. And you're not obvious around them. Honestly, no offense to them but I doubt they'd notice if you were." He rubbed Riley's back. "You don't have to come out to them or anyone until you're ready and if you're never ready to come out to them, then don't. If they act a fool, I'll be there to defend you and my parents will be there to adopt you."

RILEY

“Well, I suppose if you already know you won’t mind if I eventually bring a guy back to our place?” He wondered. It warmed Riley’s heart any time X called him the long lost triplet. It felt that way. They had been friends for so long that their lives were so intertwined. “It won’t be for a while. I’m not dating anyone even on the DL. This guy in my English class showed promise last semester, but he wasn’t very good in bed,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t know when or if I will. But I’m glad to have your support. I really am. You’ll always have mine, too.”

XAVIER

"Nah and if you need me to make myself scarce, I'll go to the library or something. Just let me know. That stuff doesn't bother me." Xavier listened intently, remembering how Riley did a year of uni without him here before it was his turn to come to the States. "Now we can be each other's wingmen." He chuckled. "I think we can give each other some solid advise. I have zero experiences with men. Like, not even a kiss, mate so you're going to lead me in the right direction. And I like the sound of that. Just two Brits taking over the West Coast."

RILEY

“I appreciate that,” Riley chuckled. Coming out to Xavier felt like the biggest weight off his shoulders. It was the only thing he had ever hidden from his friend, but now that it was out in the open he felt lighter than air. “We can absolutely be each other’s wingmen. We should go to a gay bar! I think there are some around here that let in people under 21 before certain times on weekends. I’ll find you a man to kiss. I imagine it’s similar to women. Just… they’re taller. And may have facial hair. The accent helps, too. I swear it does.”

XAVIER

It was nice to be able to talk about this with Riley finally. Xavier had some reservations because he wasn't sure what he was feeling made any sense but the more that time passed, the more he realized he did like guys and wanted to explore that. Hearing Riley's confession helped with feeling comfortable with him. He was glad they had each other for this. "I have no clue what happens in America so you'll have to help me with that now that you're a veteran." He chuckled. Even though Xavier had spent time here as a child, he had no memories of it. "Yeah, the accents are a huge turn-on for the Americans from what I've gathered. Mate, I'm barely 5'9. Most will be taller, I'm sure." He laughed. "You know, you're the first person I've told. Not even Clayton knows."

RILEY

Riley laughed at being called a veteran. “I’m so not, mate,” he shook his head. “Not a veteran and not an expert at love. I’ve never been in love. But I’ve had so many guys, and girls for that matter, tell me they love my accent. It’s so funny how much Americans get off on it. Okay, fair. You’re not tall, but that doesn’t matter.” At 6’3, Riley had a good amount of height on Xavier. At one point they were the same height. Then Riley shot up like weeds. “I am honored to be the first. I can’t wait to rub it in his face,” he chuckled. Riley was friends with Clayton as well, but he also had a bit of a brotherly rivalry with him when it came to X.

XAVIER

"I was all wrong about you, tsk tsk." He shook his head in feigned disappointment and then laughed. "That's hilarious. Okay, I'll use my accent to my advantage. And my French. I think I'm an adorable little shrimp. People will love that about me. An adorable shrimp that is turning 18 today!" Xavier's height never got to him but thinking about dating men, he was sure he'd find a match taller and not shorter. "You can do it when we go back for the holidays. He's going to be so intensely upset. I can see it now. Okay, so we have some time before Sarah comes. Do you have a type?"

RILEY

“You just think too highly of me as your slightly older friend,” Riley laughed. “Oh, the French will also work super well. Even if it’s gibberish. You’re not a shrimp! Slightly below the average height. But look,” he said and put his arms around Xavier, looking down at him. “It’s a perfect height, too.” Riley didn’t pull back when Xavier asked him his type. “I haven’t thought that much about it. Brunettes? I’ve never had a thing for blonds. Taller, shorter, I don’t care.”

XAVIER

"You're right. You'll always be my hero." He laughed as well and then laughed even more thinking about talking nonsense in French to people just to get a date. "I can see it all now. they'll be like 'Oh, Xavier. That was so hot what did you say?' meanwhile it'll be my coffee order." He appreciated Riley's encouragement as being a shrimp did have some advantages, he didn't mind being shorter than most folks. "Thanks. You really know how to make someone feel good." He looked up at his best friend with a smile as he listened. "I'm not really a fan of blondes either but if they're nice enough I guess. Brunettes are definitely cuter. Dark hair, dark eyes, all of that." He tilted his head for a few seconds, smiling as he realized how good-looking Riley was. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how come they'd never work out but just as those thoughts appeared, they disappeared and so did the quick urge or wanting to kiss his best friend. "Whoa, you do NOT want to know what I was just thinking." He laughed and leaned into Riley. He was too much of a brother to him. "So brunettes it is. A Prince Caspian look a like for me and a hottie for you."

RILEY

“Sap,” Riley chuckled. “You’ll have to think fast on your feet, mate. And hope you don’t try it with someone who learnt French in high school.” He grinned and shrugged a little. “I have to. You’re one of my favourite people.” Riley noticed the way Xavier looked at him and he tried not to look the same. He tried to avoid the quick glance down at his friend’s lips. Xavier wasn’t not his type. They were practically brothers. Maybe if they met in a bar things would be different, but he couldn’t hook up with X in any way. “Ha… probably the same as me. But nope!” He finally let go. “I love you, no homo. I mean, I am a raging homosexual, but you’re my brother. If we find you a Prince Caspian look alike, you have to at least kiss him. And of course we have to find me a hottie. Poor Sarah. If she hits on me, I may have no choice but to make up a girlfriend. Or simply tell her she’s barking up the wrong tree. She could go for you, though, Mr Bisexual.”

XAVIER

"Takes one to know one." He knew Riley wasn't usually so sappy but knowing that he was himself around Xavier made him happy. "I am the king of bullshitting. Besides, I'm not a great liar so I'll have to just roam my way around things." He cracked another smiled. He felt a genuine and special closeness in that moment with Riley. It was most definitely because of what they had just unloaded on one another but Xavier was temporarily paralyzed by that. Glad that it only lasted seconds before it could ruin their brotherhood, Xavier chuckled at Riley's response. "Shit. Glad I wasn't the only one." He rubbed the back of his head. "Truth is, you know too much, mate. Couldn't date you if I wanted to." He laughed and nudged Riley. "Oh God. Okay, ok ok ok. Tonight I kiss a guy." He said it with confidence. "I'm going to just go right up to this guy and be like ahem. He's going to turn around and I'm just gonna smack one right on him." Xavier raised a brow and then shook his head. "No, that's not right. I mean, who does that? I'll politely ask, 'hello there are you tired? because you've been running through my mind all day. AND THEN I will kiss them." Xavier laughed again and sighed. "Oh, lord. This will be a day to remember. And I love Sarah but I can't date her either. She also knows too much. It's okay. We'll find her a Brit among the masses."

RILEY

“You know too much, too! Date your best friend blah, blah, blah. Not like this!” He laughed. “Oh god… maybe not. But get a guy dancing and laughing with you and he’ll be a goner. I promise,” he grinned. “Okay, no dating people you already know too well. That’s fine! We will find you a good partner. I won’t rest until you’re happy and sappy and in love.”

XAVIER

"Yeah that doesn't apply to us though I'm sure Clayton would LOVE to see it. We should trick him when we get back. Oh my God! Let's do that." He chuckled and felt his cheeks burn up at the thought of dancing with another guy and making them laugh. He loved making people laugh. It made him feel good about himself and it was a great way to cope with his anxiety. "Good plan and I'll do the same for you. I want to see you happy and in love but not married straight out of Uni like a brother of ours. Ready? I wonder if they'll play Sean Paul tonight!"

[beesmcgee]

Okay I'm going to use this blog to process some thoughts because nobody reads it so it's a safe place.

Okay so for a while now I've been deep diving into autism (for the nth time in my life) and for the first time encountering all these first hand accounts of women with ASD. And it's like things are suddenly making sense for me. Screening questionnaires be like "is obsessed with trains and license plate numbers" and I'm like "well that ain't me". But an explanation specifically from women, and what it feel like from the inside. Some of them I'm like "wait that's just my entire life. They describe what my whole life has been like".

For 4 years now I have been without job, supported by partner, minimal social interaction, having therapy, on antidepressants, and now no pets. So. Minimal stress, like the least possible.

So I've started to think "oh I'm just your perfectly average human, no problems, perfectly functional" because I am not constantly crying and freaking out. I can make myself breakfast (most days, but sometimes I forget). I can mostly have a shower (although I spent some time averse to it because of the temperature change and volume of the water). I can do chores (dishes and laundry, other chores are forgotten about so house is mostly chaos). I can socialise in the one social thing I go to once per week (mostly saying hello and goodbye to people, or a rare awkward pub conversation where I am almost certainly not acting Normal). I can go on a weekend visit to my mother in law (but I get exhausted after a while masking and have to escape to the bathroom to be alone multiple times, eventually reaching a "migraine" point of sensitivity to noise and light). I can do the tasks I want to do (but mostly I get stuck hyperfocusing on the wrong thing or unable to get out of bed at all because I am Stuck. I am just Stuck on this thing, massive effort to redirect to another task, oh I'm Stuck again, oh no look how late it is, oh I'm Stuck once again). Yes, completely functional because my mood is the best it's ever been. For me that is an achievement. I have goals, I have intense interests that I pursue, I am not miserable. I wouldn't even say I am anxious anymore - I'm not like "I can't go to this thing because I'm afraid xyz will happen" or "I have to leave the room because I am anxious" anymore (thanks Zoloft); my nervous system just gets overloaded super easily and I'm like "I must be in quiet, alone". Obviously I am not functioning as you'd expect for a 30 year old human adult. How the hell do people have kids. Kids AND a job. WTF.

For basically my whole life I've been like "there is something very wrong with me". Religion probably contributed to that a lot. Stuff about realising I'm bi complicated that for sure. But it's like. All my troubles I internalised as a Personality Flaw. A moral failing. I'm just selfish, lazy, undisciplined, frivolous, childish etc. I've been undoing that with therapy for some time now, and it's nice to unravel that mess and be like "well, I am what I am". But I still want an answer.

I did very well in exams and uni. People often said I was "good at everything", could pick things up quickly, considered applying to Cambridge and everything. But the whole time I was a tense mess. School confused me, I was constantly worried about breaking some unsaid rule that everyone knew but me. I didn't know how to talk to the other people, didn't understand how to socialise. I could talk chaotically to my 2 friends (1 adhd, other maybe neurodivergent). But to anyone else, it was like. Does not compute. Hey how are you. That's all I got. I noted this line was said by people at like age 16. But that was all I got. I relied on my exaggerated facial expressions and small noises to cover up that I didn't know what to say, how to have an actual conversation that isn't a chaotic jumble of tangents and nerding out about art or physics. I was told I have very expressive eyebrows.

I just wanted to be at home drawing, or reading about physics. Drawing was my way of coping, my sketchbook a shield during social situations. I am the quiet drawing girl, oh don't disturb the quiet drawing girl, she's drawing. She's practicing her art, so it's not time to talk to her. I still do this now as an adult. I saw a home video of me at age 7, Christmas time, all my siblings playing board games and me off to the side, completely absorbed in playing with my ponies. They called me for me to join, I was just too absorbed to even hear them and I didn't respond, and once I registered I was like nah. In my own world, not really interested in being part of the group. I think that's just how I've always been.

Anyway, that's my rant, if you can call it that. I'm on a long waiting list to have an appointment to see if it's even worth pursuing an answer for if it is ASD. Will I be able to stop obsessing over this topic in the meantime? Maybe, we'll see I guess.

[mellowwangxianenthusiast]

Atsumu Hurt/Comfort

"It's a very comforting notion, how easy it is to disappear from people's lives."

Atsumu suddenly said as he and Bokuto were sitting in the shared living space of the MSBY dorms. He hadn't been able to sleep and he found Bokuto already in there. They decided to play some games of solitaire when they found a pack of cards.

"Like if I really wanted to, I could disappear and after a year or so no one would really miss me. I think beforehand I'd probably try and burn as many bridges as I could

And then I'd disappear cause then everyone would hate me so they wouldn't be upset."

He placed a red four of spades down after pulling it, looking up to tell Bokuto it was his turn, and was confused by the look on the Outside Hitters face.

"Bokkun?"

"I'd miss you. If you suddenly disappeared one day, I'd miss you. And I wouldn't let you burn our bridge. I'd keep rebuilding it until you realized you couldn't get rid of me."

Atsumu felt confused, a twinge of fear pooling in his stomach, he didn't like the thought of not being

Able to run. Of not having a real escape route. He truly found comfort in the idea of disappearing from everyone's lives. Then no one would have to care about him and he wouldn't be a burden on anyone. Atsumu was okay with the idea of being alone...in theory. "Right...its your turn Bokkun."

Atsumu laughed awkwardly, he hadn't expected Bokuto to comment on it, he wasn't really sure why he said it to begin with, it more just slipped out and it was too late to take it back.

"Why do you think people would let you disappear? I'd be hurt

If you decided to try and cut me off and them vanish...what if you died? Then- then nobody would know. You'd die alone and your funeral wouldn't...we wouldn't know about your funeral."

Atsumu laughed again, dropping his cards and scratching the back of his neck. "Well thats kinda the point. I mean, being alone. Not you being hurt...and if I were to die, I think most people would be happy about it, since in this hypothetical instance, I cut everyone out of my life. I mean I guess Samu would be sad cause he's my twin but-"

"I would, Hinata would. Sakusa would too. We all would. Not just Osamu."

"I don't..."

"You matter to us, so why wouldn't your disappearance matter?"

"I don't know I guess it just...makes sense in my head that no one would care if anything happened to me. I'm just...me"

Atsumu was looking down when Boktuo reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it

"Well for once I agree with Sakusa right now, you're being stupid. But I think it's just your brain being stupid and putting that idea into your head."

Atsumu sometimes forgot how serious

Bokuto could be. That he wasn't always taking things easily.

"Thanks Bokkun...you don't have to worry about me though."

"It's called an intrusive thought, I learned about it in the psych class I had to take in uni. When you have them, you know you can always come to me or

Anyone else on the team when you have them. Or...maybe a therapist if you aren't comfortable telling us. Sometimes that's easier since they're a stranger. But the options there, if you need it."

Atsumu was stunned for a moment before he nodded, wiping his face with his arm. "I'll think about it, the therapist I mean...but I'll come to you again if I have another one...thank you Bo...really."

Bokuto smiled at him, the smile that makes everyone around him feel warm inside.

"Of course, Tsumu. One more round or do you wanna go back to bed?"

Atsumu thought for a moment before looking down at the cards.

"What about we play some Uno and then go to bed?"

[tooboredtothinkofaname]

Now that i think about it I was such a let loose kid, i had so much freedom it was too much. I had to upbring myself and raise myself and figure out what are the virtues. Nobody guided me, told me what is right and what is wrong, nobody told and presented to me the ideas. And in a way you could think sure it's so great to have such autonomy, not being shoved ideology down your throat and yeah i have a lot of good traits because of this. Critical thinking among others right?

Yeah but

Ugh maybe i'm too hard on my mother sometimes. She did her best, surely. But because i had to become my own and her parent sometimes nobody ever taught me how to live, how to be a person. My mother, very autistic, very introvert, very domator stay-at-homey, very busy, very workaholic, very people pleaser could never teach me things i needed. I wasn't taught anything in my upbringing straightforwardly. Only as a response to traumas i figured some self-defense mechanisms, i just reacted to whatever came in whatever instinct driven and least harmless way possible. Only guidance i got from my father was to not open the door when someone's knocking, not to answer the phone to not let anyone know we're home and to be an asshole because that's what's gonna get you things (and then add the surprised pikachu meme when i used all that against him like..?)

So i just lived along. Home alone, computer, early internet, solitude, books, toys, nature, TV, lots of TV. So i raised myself. School was occasional as i just stopped going at one point because what for? To get bullied by peers and teachers? To waste my time there? To get up super early, go through stressfull public commute with people in it? And then get back home tired and for what? What was the purpose? Some imaginary lines drawn in an imaginary book next to my imaginary name? What. The. Fuck? I had it ALL at home! All i needed, where I controlled everything and did whatever the fuck i wanted all day. Some day i'll grow up, some day i'll show them and they will all see. It was still long years ahead of me to become an adult so i had plenty of time to prepare myself right? What do you mean you need education to get a well-paid job to have money for doing things you like? You mean i have to deliberately enslave myself to do what i want? I already do what i want! What do you mean i need good grades to get to Good uni to get the Good education to get the Good Job? That is imaginary! It's out of reach now, it doesn't give an actuall material gratification now, it's all a concept a kid's/teenager's mind can't grasp on just yet. And NOBODY could give me another reason for doing such draining, pointless, boring things other than "well it's just how it is, you just have to".

So i didn't, could you blame me? Would you call me stupid for pointing that out at 13? No adult could ever explain that to me so how could i follow them?

People get jobs without education and looking crazy. It's all about if you can put your potential, talent and skills to good use. School grades never reflected someone's intelligence and worth anyway. And fuck do i agree with my kid self holy shit i was right. But i didn't realize life is gonna be so damn harsh if you don't follow the regular path. Or did i? Nothing about my life was normal except for the fact that i had different sex parents and was white in a 97% white country. Everything else about me was fucked up and the world didn't dissapoint to point it out.

So why would I ever care to be afraid of following an unusal route when my whole life looked like this? I had 2 choices: either I bend myself over for the normal standards, clench my teeth and just do what everyone expects me to hoping i will not go insane in the process OR i could just do whatever i was already doing, being a weirdo creep my own way but at least being true and (relatively) confident about it.

Idk i just needed to let it out. But yeah i lack life skills for a reason and sometimes i wish someone would just tell me what to do with a good reasoning. But i don't think i'm that much different from others in this.

[rumygeekysoulmate]

I'm suffering. Still. Or, again. I can't really tell anymore whether I was ever okay or just fooling myself. I think I might have just been distracted. Everytime life is still, I think of you.

When life is busy, I think less of you, but you do pass me by, every now and then. Sometimes you're there all the time, in a subtle way, in the back of my head... or... occupying my every thought.

I'm not thinking of you all day... not when I'm busy, and I think that's a good thing. But when I come home and sit with myself, there you are.

It's like I'm meant to go through all of these periods of struggles. I'm aching, but I'm learning to endure. Life is hard, but it could be worse. Things are better now, that's for sure. But I'm still lost and I do not expect things to get miraculously better soon. Actually, I've accepted that life is going to continue being though for a bit. I just hope, there's still a chance everything will turn out great later on. I have to keep going to find out, and maybe it's possible to find glimpses of joy during the journey.

I'm longing for a soul connection. I'm longing to be seen. I'm longing to give someone all my passion and love. I'm longing to be loved, for who I really am. But I guess... I'm still figuring that out.

Maybe it's okay that my journey is long and hard towards love and abundance. One day, when I might reach it, I'll be all the more thankful.

I love someone who I'm not sure excsist. In my head, he is a wonderful person. In my head, he is someone who gets me... someone who admires me. He is someone who looks at me like nobody else ever has. He looks at me a I'm the most magical woman he has ever seen.

In my head he loves me fiercly. He feels more passion for me than he has ever felt for anyone else. To him, I am perfect. Not only because of the way I look, but for the way I am. The way I am makes him smile. It makes him nervous, insecure but also motivated. I am that someone that makes him want to be a better person. He wants to impress me, to be worthy of me. He desperately wants to be good enough for me. He has been so scared, to be rejected, to not be good enough, to be heart broken, to be left, to be crushed... so that he never fully wanted to take the leap of faith. But he can't keep away from me either. Not forever. He always comes back, even though he hasn't had any clue of what to do or say. He knows he wants me, but he does not dare to confess to himself that what he truly wants, most of all, is to admit to himself... that he loves me. That he can't imagine a life with someone else or without me. That he is crazy about me. That he misses me. That he wants to know me, deeply, truly, like noone else ever has.

I believe this to be the prophesy. My destiny is him. He has to break through, and I have to wait. So all I can do is to become the best version of myself. So that when he is ready, I'll be ready too. Ready to be loved, ready to be taken by storm, ready to dive into a deep, loving and true relationship.

My biggest fear is that I would wait in vain. That he would never come. But truth be told, there's nothing else I can do, and there's a relief in that. I've done my part. I've given it my all. I've fought for him. Now... I have to let him go. "If you really love someone, you'll set them free", they say. So, I wish him a blessed life. And I hope he is happy. And for me, I wish that I will be led by faith and divine guidance towards my most fullfilled life and desitiny. I believe I am worthy of a life filled with love, abundance, happiness and harmony.

I'll keep trying my best to create the life I think I deserve. I'll keep trying my best to be the best version of myself. I am truly trying to only do good in the world, spread love and light and to heal whoever I can heal, help whoever I can help... and to create art that comes through me, from something bigger than myself. My creations are bigger than my ego, I want to believe. My creations are cannalized messages from the Universe's intelligence.

I'll keep going, one day at a time, until... I'm living a life shared with my destined partner. And then, I'll forever be greatful for the Universe, him and for myself for never giving up.

[sipofaugust]

Sooo update.

I got a job.

I still want to kill myself. I'm tired of pretending to be better but I just don't know what else to do, it's my autopilot.

That's how I feel most of these days, it's been a while since I've felt happy, or not bored. I've been sad but even that lasts a few minutes.

I got pregnant, but didn't have it. I was hoping I felt bad about it, but it didn't happen. He was nice, cute and awkward. I think I liked him, but he didn't really want a relationship with me, it's ok, they never do.

I felt good for a while, like a week, felt like I wanted to go to uni but is over now. Maybe it'll be back.

There's this guy at work that I think is cute, but I doubt he knows my name. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter, nobody looks at me that way. But I think I'm forcing it, yk, so that I can have something to cling to at work, something to make me excited or just not that bored. He has a cat, the cat is cute.

I still think about him sometimes, I think I miss him but it's too late to reach out, I did find out he has a gf which is nice, I hope he treats her well.

This was nice, I think I'm gonna write more often here, it's nice to express what I can't say out loud.

Bye.

[dickwheelie]

@coulson-is-an-avenger thank you sm for the jonsasha prompt!! sorry this took so long but here's a fic about jon and sasha brushin each other's hair :) with a bonus gender discussion(tm)

___________

Jon leaned back against Sasha's legs where she sat on the sofa above him, feeling her gently tug his braid loose, his hair tumbling into her lap as she began to comb through it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting himself relax.

"I've always been jealous of your hair," Sasha said, as she started brushing it out. "So long and lustrous . . ."

"Hah!" Jon barked out a laugh. "Lustrous is not a word I'd use to describe anything about myself."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. Maybe your skin needs work, but your hair is doing fine."

"Oh, well, thank you," Jon said. "Wait, my skin needs--?"

"Why do you keep your hair long, anyway?" Sasha went on. "I mean, it looks good, but you don't seem the type."

Jon snorted. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Sasha said cheerily. "Just, you know, the whole male academic persona." Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw her hand wave theatrically at the words. "You dress and act so straight-laced at work, I guess I'm just surprised your hair didn't go along with it."

Jon worried at the hem of his cardigan. The soft, casual cardigan he'd worn to Sasha's flat because it was his day off, and he didn't have to dress in stuffy, professional clothing so nobody would figure out he was a fraud who didn't belong in a head archivist position. "I just always liked keeping it long," he said. "Couldn't tell you why. Just feels nice, I guess."

"You know," Sasha said pointedly, "I used to want to keep my hair long for reasons I couldn't explain, either."

"I--" Jon began to protest, then closed his mouth and tried again. "I . . . I've thought about it. Believe me, I've--" He laughed humorlessly. "I have thought about it. But I'm sure I'm cis. I-I mean, by now, I'd know otherwise. Right?"

Sasha hummed as she tugged at a stubborn tangle. "Not necessarily. I've met lots of people who didn't know they were trans until they were in their forties, or older."

"W-Well," Jon said, and then didn't know what else to say. For a moment, he just sat there, losing himself in Sasha's steady pulls of the brush, the feeling of her hands running through his hair. "I mean," he said eventually, "I'm not a woman. I know that much."

"Okay," Sasha said, and was quiet. Jon recognized her "letting him talk it out" voice.

"And I'm not uncomfortable with being a man." Jon sighed. He hadn't been prepared for this conversation, and he didn't feel like digging too far into it. "Maybe I'm just a man who likes having long hair. What's wrong with that."

"Absolutely nothing," Sasha said, and he felt her press her lips to the top of his head before returning to the brush. "I think it's handsome."

"Ah. Thank you," Jon said, with a twitch of a smile.

Soon Sasha had finished with his hair and tied it back up in its braid, and they swapped places. Jon could accept Sasha's compliments about his hair's lustrousness, or whatever, but faced with her dark curls he didn't understand how she could ever be jealous of his hair, or anyone else's, for that matter. Sasha's hair was so . . . he didn't even know, he just loved it. It wasn't quite as long as his, but it was a beautiful, rich dark color, almost black but not quite. The texture as he ran his hands through it felt astonishingly nice; he was reminded of the stim toys he used to play with when he was younger.

Sasha's hair didn't need brushing out like his did, so instead he just evened out the center part and ran through it with a comb. He spent the majority of the time carding his hands through it, careful not to tug on the strands. Sasha leaned warmly against him, her back up against his calves, her legs splayed out comfortably in front of her. Her head was tilted up at him and her eyes were closed, with a peaceful look on her face.

"How long did it take you," Sasha said at one point, her voice low and relaxed. "To grow your hair out."

Jon had to think a moment. "Last time I had it cut was . . . almost two years ago, now. I remember because I'd just gotten an interview for the researcher job and I wanted to look . . . presentable. Male academic persona, and all that."

Sasha laughed. "Right."

"Before that it was pretty long, past my shoulders. That was how I kept it at uni too. This is the longest it's ever been, though," Jon said, as he tugged at a strand of his own hair absentmindedly. "I guess the Institute's kept me so busy I forgot to get it cut again."

"Well, if you like it that way, why waste the money?" Sasha said, quite reasonably. "Besides, I stand by what I said. Your hair's a gift, don't waste it by cutting it off." She reached above her head and waved a finger at him. "Unless you want to. Don't let me tell you what to do. God knows I know a thing or two about other people telling me what to do with my hair."

Jon laughed. "I won't. I want to keep it long, anyway." He was glad Sasha liked his hair like this. Georgie had been the same way, encouraging Jon not to cut it. He'd had friends in the past express confusion about his hair, but he'd gotten pretty skilled at ignoring them. It took a job interview, apparently, to change his mind. Jon wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

Well, no, that wasn't true. Bad, that was how he felt. Walking around those first few months in research with his hair cropped short, wearing those stuffy outfits . . . he'd never felt more like an imposter. The day he realized his hair had finally grown back past his shoulders had been a very, very good day.

His work clothes hadn't really changed, and his persona hadn't gotten easier to play, but now he had his hair, and his nails, and even the occasional earring studs he'd wear, if he was feeling brave.

And Sasha. And Tim. He had them, too, and they were two very good people to have in one's corner.

Impulsively, he reached down and gave Sasha a hug around her shoulders. It was a bit of an awkward angle, and he had to lay his cheek on the top of her head, but she reached up to hug him back anyway.

"What's this for?" Sasha said, but she didn't let go.

"I don't know," Jon said softly. "I love you, that's all."

"Well, if that's all," Sasha said. She gave him a few pats on the arm, as well as she could reach. "Don't mess up my hair, now, or you'll have to comb it again."

"Oh, no," Jon intoned, "what a horrible fate."

"You're not funny, Sims."

"I'm hilarious."

Sasha grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, which Jon suspected was a last-ditch effort to derail the conversation by flustering him. It worked extremely well. Jon busied himself by going back to her hair, and it was a few minutes later before either of them spoke again.

"I love you too, you know," Sasha said at length. "I know I don't say it a lot, but I do."

"It's okay," Jon said, and it really, really was. He knew Sasha couldn't see the wide smile that had just appeared on his face, but he liked to think she could hear it in his voice. "I know you do."

[bing-fucker]

Oh, good! I was wondering if we could get 74. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole." with Chase and Character Jack? Like maybe they're college roommates and Jack is flirting with/being groped by some guy at a pub and Chase gets jealous/protective?

Jealousy as a concept makes me very uncomfy, and also I adore protective tops, so we’re going with the second option!

Just a reminder for those that don’t know or didn’t see the last couple of asks, Character Jack is the Jack I reference here. If I ever refer to the real-life YouTuber in asks (not requests), I’ll use Sean. So this is the character that, in the JSE Egos canon, is currently in a coma. But this is college age, so no somnophilia here! (Oh but that just gave me a wonderful idea...)

Warnings: Non-consensual groping, a small bit of violence (Chase gets in a fight), first-time anal sex, car make-outs, I don’t know what the name for it is, but Jack does kind of like seeing the results of Chase fighting to protect him. Ask me to add warnings as needed!

Chase and Jack weren’t dating. That was something that both men constantly reminded their other uni friends. Sure, both were bi, but that didn’t mean they were instantly dating. And sure they flirted a lot, and Chase had more than a few fantasies about his roommate, but they weren’t dating. In fact, Chase was pretty sure Jack only jokingly flirted with him.

All of this was what Chase was desperately trying to remember as he watched his roommate and best friend. They’d gone to the club with a group of friends who, if Chase knew his friends, were going to quickly be abandoning Chase and Jack for a pub crawl with some sophomores.

Jack was on the dance floor, swinging his hips to the music and dancing with some guy that Chase was seventy percent sure he didn’t even know the name of. Neither Jack nor Chase had been drinking- Chase was designated driver and Jack never drank unless Chase did as well. But Jack never really needed alcohol to get his groove on. He was an energetic guy and dancing was a fun way to get out some of that energy.

Jack turned and caught Chase’s eye, winking dramatically as he kept dancing. Chase laughed and raised his glass of water in response. Jack laughed as well and Chase was so distracted admiring his smile that for a second, he didn’t notice the stranger’s hands on Jack’s hips. He frowned when he noticed, shifting a bit. It was the guy Jack was dancing with, so at least it wasn’t a complete stranger. Chase settled back in his seat, deciding not to step in until needed.

-

Jack laughed a bit uncomfortably and detached the guy - Dave? That sounded right - from his hips. “Sorry, dude, not lookin’ for a lay tonight,” Jack said.

“You sure?” Dave(?) asked, smirking slightly. He was English and part of Jack found it fitting that it would be some English guy. “Because you’re certainly shaking those hips like you are, love.”

“I’m pretty su-” Jack squeaked as Dave settled his hands on his ass, groping him harshly and pulling the Irishman close. “Dude! What the hell!?”

“Relax,” Dave purred, grinding rhythmically against Jack. “Just havin’ a bit of fun, yeah?”

“Dude, get off!” Jack exclaimed, shoving at Dave. Dave simply grinned in response and pressed his lips against Jack’s, letting the Irishman taste the alcohol on his breath. Jack whimpered softly, eyes wide as he beat against Dave’s chest. The brit just seemed amused, gently groping and massaging the flesh of Jack’s ass.

“God, you’re hot,” Dave muttered against Jack’s lips, moving his hands and giving Jack relief for just a second before they were shoved down the back of Jack’s jeans. Jack squeezed his eyes closed uncomfortably, still hitting Dave’s chest as hard as he could.

Jack was surprised when he was suddenly pulled away from Dave, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Chase.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chase asked, looking at Jack in concern.

“Yeah,” Jack breathed. “Sorry for making you come over here, I probably could’ve handled it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Chase replied, frowning and patting Jack’s shoulder gently. “Do you want to head back to the car? I’ll deal with this asshole.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding and patting Chase’s back before hurriedly leaving and going to the car.

Jack sat in the car alone. It wasn’t actually Chase’s car, but the actual owner of the car had entrusted Chase with the keys. And he was currently making out with some girl at the bar back in the club, so Jack was sure he wouldn’t mind. Jack frowned and hugged his knees to his chest, silently berating himself for letting that happen. Luckily, he didn’t have long to wallow before Chase was climbing into the driver’s side. He had a bruise forming on his cheek, a cut lip, and bruised and bloody knuckles.

“Dude!” Jack exclaimed, putting his feet on the car floor and looking at Chase worriedly. “What the fuck, did you fight him!?”

“He certainly tried to fight me,” Chase replied, flexing his hands slightly. “Someone called over some nearby guards.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Nah, I told ‘em he was just some drunk on the street. Nobody cared enough to clear the record.”

“Thank god for that,” Jack replied, frowning at Chase. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Chase assured, looking at Jack with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, sighing and looking at the cut on Chase’s lip. “Your lip is bleeding...”

“Huh?” Chase swept his tongue across his bottom lip. “So it is. I’m okay, though.”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed, eyes locked on his friend's lips.

Chase licked his lips again, “Jack?” Jack looked up to meet Chase’s eyes for a second, then surged forward and crashed his lips against Chase’s. Chase made a startled noise for a second before kissing back, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist. Jack whimpered softly and kissed back harder like he was trying to chase away the feeling of Dave’s lips with Chase’s.

Chase groaned and moved his hands from Jack’s waist to push his seat back far enough to pull his best friend into his lap. Jack groaned in response to the change in position, straddling Chase and tangling his hands in the other’s hair. Chase pulled away slightly and laughed against Jack’s lips as his hat fell off and somewhere in the backseat. Jack laughed in response, trailing his hands down Chase’s chest and kissing his throat lightly.

“Whoa, whoa, Jack,” Chase gasped, settling his hands on Jack’s shoulders and pushing him away slightly. “Slow down, Jack, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack replied, grinding against Chase’s lap slightly.

“Fuck, Jack,” Chase groaned. “Wh-what has gotten into you, dude?”

“Honestly, I’ve wanted this for years, and you’re really fucking hot right now,” Jack replied, biting his lip anxiously. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I mean,” Chase said, shrugging a bit. “Not really? Like, at this very moment? Yes, because I don’t want our first time to be in our friend’s car. But in general? No. Let’s just. Wait until we’re back at the flat, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack agreed, climbing back into the passenger seat and breathing a sigh of relief. Chase grinned and righted his seat before starting the car and pulling off into traffic. He jumped when he felt a hand on his thigh, blushing and focusing on the road. Jack didn’t move his hand, just left it there, like he was afraid Chase would be gone if he took his hand away.

To be honest, Chase didn’t remember how he and Jack got back to their flat. His mind was far too addled by the feeling of Jack’s lips moving against his and the feeling of Jack’s hips in his hands. It was a miracle they made it to their flat at all, much less without hurting themselves.

Chase panted and pushed Jack onto his bed, pulling his shirt and shoes off quickly. Jack scrambled to follow his example, chest heaving as he looked up at Chase. Chase quickly crawled over Jack, kissing him firmly.

“Mine,” he muttered against Jack’s lips, rubbing the other man’s nipple lightly. “God, Jack. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“Good,” Jack replied, keening softly and hooking a leg around Chase’s waist. “Chase, please~ Make me forget what his hands ever felt like~”

“Gladly,” Chase growled, pulling away from Jack and grabbing the lube from his bedside table as Jack wriggled out of his jeans and boxers. Chase groaned softly, watching Jack roll over onto his stomach.

“You’re fucking mine, Jack,” Chase hissed, bodily moving Jack further onto the bed and pouring lube over his fingers. Jack whined softly and reached behind himself, spreading himself for Chase.

“B-be careful,” he breathed. “I’ve never done this before...”

“I’ll be gentle,” Chase muttered, gently pushing two fingers inside of his friend and waiting for him to adjust before he started to stretch Jack open.

“Fuck, Chase,” Jack whimpered, pressing his sweaty forehead against Chase’s pillow. “I-it feels weird.”

“Good weird, I hope,” Chase replied, laughing softly and leaning down to kiss Jack.

“Good weird,” Jack confirmed. “Really good weird. Fuck, more, please~”

“Gladly, baby,” Chase replied, pushing another finger inside. “There we go. Almost there, babe, almost ready...” Jack moaned loudly as Chase crooked his fingers, arching back against Chase.

Chase pulled away when Jack was stretched enough, wiping his fingers off and turning away to take off his jeans and lube up his cock. When he turned back around, he was met with the rather lewd sight of Jack fucking himself back on his own fingers.

“Jaysus, Jack,” Chase breathed, panting slightly as he walked back over to Jack and pulled his hand away. “You look so fucking sexy.” Chase gently rested the head of his cock against Jack’s hole, biting his lip. “Try to relax, okay? It might hurt a bit, but I’ll do my best to go slow.”

Jack nodded in reply and relaxed as much as he could, biting his fist at the initial entry. Chase smiled faintly, gripping Jack’s hip with one hand and using the other to rub his shoulder encouragingly.

“You’re doing amazing, babe,” he praised, slowly sliding further in. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

“Chase,” Jack whined, pressing his face against the bed. “Please, more~”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Chase said, laughing slightly as he pushed completely in. “I don’t want to hurt you, babe. Gotta go slow, yeah?”

“You can go slow in round two, Chase Brody, right now I want you to fuck me until your hands are the only ones I can remember,” Jack snapped, rolling his hips experimentally.

“Oh, fuck,” Chase exclaimed, gripping Jack’s hips tightly. “Fine. Fine.” In an instant, Chase pulled out until just the head was inside and then snapped his hips forward, drawing a long, low moan from the man beneath him.

Jack mewled happily, rocking his hips back against Chase’s thrusts. Chase groaned, and dug his nails into Jack’s hips, muttering praise and names he wouldn’t ever repeat.

“Fuck, Chase, I-I’m close,” Jack whimpered, arching his back further. Chase wrapped one arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him up into a kneeling position, back against Chase’s chest. Chase groaned and kissed Jack firmly as the other man came, swallowing Jack’s moans happily. He wasn’t far behind, what with Jack tightening around him so deliciously. Chase groaned and buried himself deep inside of Jack as he came, panting heavily.

Chase pulled out and collapsed next to Jack on the bed, breathing heavily and looking at Jack as Jack laid next to him and snuggled up to him.

“Hi,” Jack whispered.

“Hi,” Chase replied, turning onto his side and hugging Jack close to him. “We should talk about this.”

“Yeah, we should,” Jack agreed, smiling softly and looking at Chase. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen,” Chase laughed, brushing sweaty hair from his head. “So are you.”

“We should shower.”

“Yes, we should,” Chase laughed, pulling Jack close and covering both of them with the blankets. “Sounds like a lot of stuff for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow sounds good,” Jack agreed, yawning and snuggling closer to Chase.

“Night, dude.”

“Night, dude.”

[laminy]

If it's not too much to ask, could I get a snippet or Ben receiving his rejection from London, I'm always in the mood for a little Bengst

Ben stretches his legs out over Gwil’s lap, shifting on the sofa. Gwil glances over at him, and smiles, gently rubbing Ben’s ankles. “Bored, love?” Gwil asks, and Ben looks up at him.

“No, sorry,” Ben says, “just a bit tired.” He yawns as if on cue, wiggling a bit, and then he smiles at Gwil. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Gwil says, nodding, looking back at the TV.

Ben twists a bit to watch it a bit longer as well, but then he takes his phone out again, checking to see if he has any notifications. Joe’s at work and Rami’s in class, so he doesn’t know what he expects to find, but he just can’t focus. He goes to his email, deleting a couple, and then immediately his stomach– oh god. He immediately sits up a bit, and Gwil looks over.

“You alright?” Gwil asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ben says, nodding, but his mouth feels sour. Oh god. It’s been months since he applied, and he still hasn’t heard from any of them. The fact that the first one to reply is his top choice, that’s– well, it can’t be good, can it? Or can it? Maybe it is. He looks up at Gwil, who’s got a look of concern on his face, and he has to quickly decide whether to tell the truth or not. “It’s an email,” he says finally, because he knows Gwil would want to know. “From London, uh, uni.”

“What?” Gwil asks, eyes widening a bit. “Love, well– what’s it say? Did you open it?”

Ben shakes his head a bit. “No, not yet,” he says. “I– I don’t know.” He sits up, moving his legs off Gwil’s lap, looking down at his phone. “It’s…I should, yeah? Look?”

“Of course,” Gwil says excitedly, smiling at him. “See what it says!”

Ben smiles a bit, maybe Gwil’s optimism is rubbing off on him, and he finally clicks on the email. His eyes scan over the first couple lines, and his smile slowly fades, and it feels like his stomach has dropped out, and he… He swallows hard, and looks down. “I didn’t get in,” he says softly, and he shuts his phone off, dropping it onto the cushion beside him.

“What?” Gwil asks. “Wha– I– oh, love, I’m so sorry.” He reaches his hand out to Ben but Ben just shrugs him off, moving a bit further away from him.

“It’s fine, isn’t it,” Ben says, looking down, picking at his thumbnail. “I– I didn’t really expect to anyway. I’m sure loads of people apply. Can’t– blame them.”

Gwil looks at Ben, frowning, and he reaches out to him again, but Ben just stands up. “Love,” he says, turning to watch Ben walk into the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” Ben says. “I– it’s not the only university I applied to. Four left, right?”

“Right,” Gwil says softly. “But love–”

“Can you just stop calling me that for right now?” Ben snaps. “Please. I have a name. It’s right there in that fucking email, okay? Read it if you’d like. See what a fucking loser–” His footsteps falter and he twists a bit as he looks around, and he finally just storms off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He grips tightly at the counter, the edges digging into his palms, knuckles white, and he bites down on the scream that wants to come out, until his jaw hurts. He takes a deep breath, and another, but then he looks up and sees his face in the mirror and his breath turns into a gasp, and hot tears spill over his cheeks as he starts to sob. He cries loudly, for a moment he thinks he sounds like a child, and he just sobs. His knees weaken and he lets go of the counter, dropping down to the floor, and he sits there, back against the cupboards, crying so hard he can barely see, it feels like he can barely breathe, like he’s choking on all the pain, and it’s just– of course he didn’t get in, he didn’t get into the one he really wanted to go to, the one that meant he could stay with his best mates and his boyfriend, and– 

Ben’s head falls forward and he wraps his arms around his knees, sniffling loudly. He’s not sure how long he’s in there for before there’s a tentative knock on the door. 

“Ben?” Gwil asks, and it makes Ben start to cry even harder, because he can hear how upset Gwil is too.

Ben just sniffles and doesn’t say anything, but the doorknob turns and the door opens just a bit so that he can see Gwil’s eyes. Ben looks up, and watches Gwil push the door open a bit further, and then Gwil crouches down, so that he’s at Ben’s height, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry,” Ben says.

“What for?” Gwil asks.

“Everything,” Ben says, waving his hand around. “Not getting in, fucking up. Quitting my job, making you fucking support me without any back-up plan, messing up, I don’t know what I did, I thought I’d get in, I’m sorry, I really am, I wanted to, and I–”

“Hey, hey,” Gwil says, moving closer to Ben, reaching out to him. He just takes Ben’s hand, but then Ben shifts, pulling Gwil into a hug, burying his face in his chest. “Hey, no, Ben, it’s alright, I’m– you didn’t do anything to apologize for. I– if you recall, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who told you to quit. You weren’t happy.”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Ben mutters, like he didn’t hear Gwil at all.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Gwil says softly, rubbing Ben’s back. “I– it’s just one. Just one university. You applied to five. I know you’ll get into at least one of them.”

“But I wanted to go there,” Ben whines, and he knows how immature he sounds, but he can’t help it, he did want to go there, he doesn’t want to have to bloody move across the country, he wants to stay here, in his flat.

“I know,” Gwil says, and he shifts a bit, pulling back so that he can look down at Ben’s face, red and tear-stained, “but it’s just…it’s– I know it’s hard, and that you’re sad. I wanted you to get in there too, but it’ll work out alright.”

“What if I don’t get in anywhere?” Ben asks. “What if I’m wrong? What if Paul was right, what if I am a fucking idiot, and all I’ll ever be good for is–”

“I’ve never met Paul,” Gwil says, “thank god, but I can assure you he’s not right about anything. At all. You’re smart, and I know that, I see that. I saw how you hard you worked. And someone else will too. London’s– everyone wants to go to London. Who do you know that wants to move to Aberystwyth? Nobody. No one can say it, let alone find it on a map.”

“You said it was lovely,” Ben says, sniffling, and Gwil smiles.

“It is,” Gwil says. “And it’ll be all the more lovely if you go there. So will Glasgow, or Liverpool, I– anywhere will be lucky to have you. London, is– fuck London. We don’t like it here. I don’t want to live here.”

Ben snorts a bit, and then he looks away, wiping at his face. “You love it here,” he says softly.

“I love it because I’m with you,” Gwil says, reaching out to wipe at Ben’s cheeks. “And I’ll love wherever you go even more.”

“What about Rami and Joe?” Ben asks. “I– I can’t tell them. They’ll be so upset.”

“That’s okay,” Gwil says softly, “we’ll tell them when you’re ready. I won’t say a word until you say I can, I promise.”

“Promise?” Ben echoes, and Gwil smiles and nods.

“But you shouldn’t be embarrassed, Ben,” Gwil says. “They love you, they support you. Not everyone gets in wherever they apply, it’s not like that. One program got too many applications, that’s all.”

Ben sniffles, and then reaches out, softly running his fingers over the fabric of Gwil’s shirt. “Why wasn’t mine good enough then?” he asks.

Gwil bites down on his lip. “I don’t know, Ben,” he says. “I– it’s not that it wasn’t good enough, I’m sure. It’s just– maybe they went alphabetically, and A through G were all too good.” He gives Ben a smile. “It doesn’t make you dumb, or not worth it. You know that, don’t you?” Ben doesn’t say anything, and Gwil shifts a bit closer to him. “Ben, tell me you know that.”

“I’m not dumb,” Ben says softly, and Gwil smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to Ben’s temple.

“You’re not,” Gwil says. “And I promise, whichever uni writes back next, that’ll be the one. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” Ben murmurs, tiredly leaning against Gwil.

“Then it’ll be the one after that,” Gwil says. “Four more to go. One of them will say yes, I just know it.” He leans in, kissing Ben’s temple again. “Any one of them would be lucky to have you, I promise.”

[mental-health-advice]

(Tag as IMK pls) my mother always reminds me how much of a financial burden I am- in my country we stop receiving child support if I don't pass enough exams at uni. My depression & ADHD made it impossible for me to succeed so she keeps telling me I need to get a job bc I'm so expensive. She always says none of my things belong to me bc they were bought with her money. Idk if she's right and I'm just an ungrateful useless burden or if she's in the wrong... is she being abusive? I'm confused...

Hi IMK,

I’m so sorry to hear that your mom has been treating youlike this. There’s no reason for her to tell you all these terrible things and Iwould definitely say this is a form of verbal abuse. People who are verballyabusive often make negative remarks, call the person names, say mean things andthen later claim they were just joking, etc. People who are being verballyabused may feel like everything they do is wrong, feel anxious when bring upcertain topics, feel misunderstood by the person who is abusing them, and theymay begin to doubt their own sanity or intelligence because of the way theabuser questions the things the person says or does. Based off what you’ve saidabout how your mom acts, it sounds like your mom is abusive.

I want you to know that what your mom says is wrong and you’renot a bad person just because your mental health limits what you’re able to do.Besides, if you could change it, you certainly would have because it obviously bothersyou that you’ve had setbacks as a result of your disorders, so you shouldn’thave to feel bad for things that are beyond your control. Nobody has the rightto make you feel like this, especially since it seems like you are hurtingenough as it is without your mom making things worse.

Have you considered talking to a professional about yourdepression and ADHD if you haven’t already? If not, it might be a good idea todo so. There are a lot of treatment options for depression and ADHD can bemanaged with medication, too. For depression, therapy and/or medication canhelp alleviate some of the symptoms so you’re able to function better. Then, forADHD, there are a lot of different kinds of medication that can make focusing easier.Since there are so many different options available to you, I think it might bereally helpful for you to see a mental health professional if it’s an optionfor you. We have a page about getting help that you can look at for someinformation on how to reach out, so I recommend looking at that if you’d liketo take this step.

If you’re able to get back to feeling more like yourselfagain, do you think it would be an option to get away from your mom? Thissounds like a really unhealthy and toxic environment for you to be in, so maybeyou can look into what other options you have right now, even if it meansliving with a friend or other family member until you can get back on yourfeet. Although that may seem like a lot to take on, I think it might be a lotmore doable if you’re able to get your mental health back on track again.

I can only imagine how hard it must be to have yourdepression and your mom telling you how big of a burden you are, but I promisethat both are wrong. You’re a good person and don’t deserve to be made feel otherwise.You can do this and you’re so much stronger than you think!

-Samantha