#or i see the keyboards and wonder how hard it would be to learn that

[just-your-average-tangerine]

I'm normal and can be trusted inside music stores

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (07)

Don’t think I forgot about the chapter! I took an unplanned nap earlier, but I still made it (from where I am, it’s still five minutes before midnight, so technically, it’s still Monday)! This chapter was tough to write and edit (tough is an understatement 😭), but here we are! I think as I’m trying to write longer chapters, they’re becoming significantly more work (especially when I try to do it all at once). Hope you enjoy this one too!

Warning: cursing

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

06 <- 07 -> 08

Masterlist

Taglist —> if you want to be tag

When Todoroki arrived at the hospital, he paused at the entrance, his gaze fixed on the bouquet of dahlias in his hand. The vibrant petals stood out sharply against the sterile white surroundings of the building, and for a moment, doubt crept in. Was this a mistake? Should he have stayed home? Couldn't he have just sent an apology email or made a call instead? Why was he here, standing in front of these doors? Doubts filled him, but just as quickly as they appeared, they were pushed aside. Something about this moment—about seeing you and apologizing face-to-face—pulled at him in a way he couldn’t explain. It felt necessary, like a weight he couldn’t ignore. The urge to make things right, to apologize properly, tangled with an unclear mess of emotions, stronger than his uncertainty. The thought of seeing you again was both tempting and terrifying, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

With a deep breath, he steadied himself, taking one last look at the bouquet before stepping forward. His body seemed to move almost on its own, urging him forward as if it knew better than his mind. It felt pointless to resist, and he hated not fully understanding himself. Usually, everything was clear and simple, but now, the confusion, the unknown, and the awkwardness destabilized him.

Clutching the bouquet like a shield, Todoroki walked through the unfamiliar halls. Nurses and staff gave him curious glances—heroes usually arrived with an ambulance, not alone—but he ignored their stares as he normally did when he was in public. His focus was solely inward; his heart was racing, fast, too different from its usual calm beat. As he tried to compose himself, he knew this wasn’t just nervousness; it was something else, something hard to name. Todoroki could barely distinguish it, buried under so many feelings and the he closer he got to the hero wing, the more intense the feeling became. He was painfully aware of how each steps made his pulse race, and him self-conscious of his heart pumping loudly in his chest and ears.

When he reached the front desk, he paused for a moment, swallowing, preparing himself and trying to stay composed, as the receptionist looked up at him, briefly eyeing the bouquet before offering a polite, practiced smile.

"Good morning, how may I help you?"

"Good morning," Todoroki replied, his voice quieter than usual, and he mentally shook off his awkwardness before continuing. "I was here a few days ago, and… I was wondering if it would be possible to see the doctor who was in charge of my care during my hospitalization."

The receptionist’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he typed. After a few seconds, he turned his attention back to Todoroki. "Of course. If you have questions about your treatment or would like a follow-up consultation, Dr. Hasegawa would be happy to schedule an appointment with you."

Todoroki nodded absentmindedly, but his thoughts had already wandered. Dr. Hasegawa... So that was your name. It floated in his mind: Dr. Hasegawa, I’m sorry for my behavior, he thought, trying to figure out what he would say when he faced you. I apologize for acting so inappropriately. Please let me make it up to you... maybe I could buy you a coffee after work?, but he immediately dismissed the thought.

Todoroki barely noticed how tightly he had been gripping the bouquet, the delicate stems pressing into his fingers, but he didn’t loosen his hold. He was still lost in his thoughts, and he couldn’t understand why he felt so anxious, on top of that, now the flowers seemed like such a strange gesture. When was the last time he’d bought flowers for anyone who wasn’t his mother? He couldn’t even remember. Maybe for Bakugo? That one time? Giving you flowers seemed more and more odd with each passing second, but he knew he couldn’t just throw them away now. A small part of him was still wondering if the flowers colors would truly match your eyes, as he had imagined back in the flower shop.

This was supposed to be a quick visit, just to apology to you. He was only here to make amends—no need for coffee or flowers, no need for anything beyond that. And yet, there he was, dahlias in hands, and feeling a flutter of anticipation building in his chest, an unexplained excitement buzzing through him.

“He’s currently in a consultation but should be available to meet with you in about twenty to thirty minutes. Will that be alright?”

Todoroki blinked, startled. He? There was no he.

“My doctor was a woman,” he said slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion.

The receptionist looked equally confused by his words, and he checked his computer before replying. "No, the doctor who treated you was Dr. Haruto Hasegawa, and he’s definitely a man."

There was now way he could have been wrong, he was sure of it and in his memory of the moment, although blurry , he could still clearly remember you: your eyes, your hair, the curve of your lips, your hands—everything about you had looked so pretty in his eyes. He was certain it was a woman who clung to his mind, like a shadow he longed to fade with time.

“There must be some mistake,” he said, sure of himself. “A doctor came to check on me in the afternoon and I saw her, it wasn’t a man.”

“In the afternoon?” The receptionist frowned, his tone taking on a slightly exasperated edge. “It says here that Dr. Hasegawa treated you in the morning, and he was in surgery all afternoon.” His gaze flicked back to Todoroki, the growing impatience evident. “Doctors don’t usually handle post-treatment checkups unless it’s an exception.”

This just didn’t make sense to Todoroki and as he opened his mouth to argue further, the receptionist’s expression shifted. His eyes lit up, as though he’d just pieced together a puzzle.

“Wait a second,” he said, fingers flying across the keyboard once again. “It was probably Nurse Asuna Shimizu. The nurses handle most of the checkups after treatments, and according to your file, she was assigned to you during your stay.”

For a moment, Todoroki faltered. He had been so sure it was a woman—but whether you were a doctor or a nurse? He wasn’t certain anymore. Now, he wondered if he’d completely missed the pastel pink of your hospital scrubs. After all, he hadn’t exactly been focused on your uniform that day—his attention had been caught by... well, everything else about you. You were a vivid image against the foggy backdrop of his memory.

“I guess you’re right. I might’ve been mistaken,” he admitted reluctantly, though uncertainty lingered in his voice. “Would it still be possible to see her?”

“Of course,” the receptionist replied smoothly. “I’ll call her now, she should be in the break room, so it won’t take too long.”

As the receptionist made the phone call, “An ex-patient wants to see you again, probably about his treatment I don’t know. It’s a pro hero.” Todoroki stood there awkwardly and stiffly.

The unfamiliar ticking of anxiety crawled through his veins, unraveling his nerves with every heartbeat. His held his breath every time he heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he fought the urge to whip his head around, afraid of appearing too eager or worse, desperate.

The wait stretched on endlessly, and he stared blankly at the sterile hospital walls as he tried to keep his thoughts from spiraling. His palms felt clammy, and his throat dried out despite his repeated attempts to swallow. The stems of the dahlias, crushed and fragile beneath his restless fingers, bore the burden of his agitation and he prayed silently that his jittery state wasn’t so visible to anyone nearby. When the receptionist finally spoke again, Todoroki felt the ground shift beneath him.

“Oh, Asuna, you’re here. Here is the patient who wanted to meet with you.”

Todoroki froze. The wave of emotions that had been brewing all day—restlessness, anticipation, and fear—crashed over him all at once as his breath hitched. This is it, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Slowly, he turned around, as though he was bracing himself for the sight of you while the memory of your sweet peach scent tugged at him like a siren’s call, and demanded him to turn faster.

Todoroki’s heart sank at the sight of the nurse. The woman who approached wasn’t you; her hair, eyes, height, and face bore no resemblance to the seared image of you that he held in his mind. But the most glaring difference, the one that sealed it instantly, was her scent.

Scents were undeniable markers of identity—a fact anyone with a decent nose understood. It wasn’t usually a big deal; people were described as “the omega with the citrusy scent” or “the Alpha who smells like coffee beans,” just as casually as someone’s hair color or complexion might be noted. But your scent had been different. He wasn’t sure if it was his premature heat that made him more sensitive, but it had struck him like a physical blow, enveloping him completely and commanding his attention in a way he hadn’t been able to shake since.

The soft lavender and floral notes emanating from Nurse Shimizu weren’t unpleasant, sure, but they didn’t come close to the syrupy sweetness of peaches that had lingered around you. That scent—your scent—felt addictive, disorienting in its intensity, and it had burned itself into his mind more than he liked to admit. Whoever Asuna Shimizu was supposed to be, her scent clearly told him she was not you and definitely not an alpha too. Nothing about it poked and tease his omega like yours had.

Todoroki’s stomach twisted with a bitter ache. He felt foolish for expecting anything different. Maybe you were purposely avoiding him, and who could blame you? He had acted so shamefully during his heat, basically threw himself at you, and let his instincts overshadow his judgment. His mate's breaking your face had only made things horrifically worse. He was so focused on seeing you again that he forgot how serious the situation was and the guilt he felt soared from this realization, which only made him feel even more disappointed in himself. He had been acting so strangely over the past few days, wondering about trivial, selfish and superficial matters instead of how his actions impacted you. He know from experience how a punch from Kirishima could knocked you down and how disgusting unwanted sexual advances felt.

"Nurse Shimizu," Todoroki began, after he approached her maintained respectful distance. "I understand if your colleague doesn’t want to see me again. My mate and I behaved inexcusably, and I want to offer my sincere apologies. Please let her know she can contact my agency if she wishes to seek any form of compensation." He said, serious, measured and polite as possible, wanting to cause any further trouble for you or, what he assumed, your nurse friend.

It took Asuna a moment to piece everything together, before realization flashed through her eyes and she stepped closer to Todoroki, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

“When were you hospitalized?” she asked, her suspicions growing clearer after his response. Her fingers anxiously tugged at the edge of her sleeve as she pressed on, her tone tinged with nervousness. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Dr. L/n, but... is there any chance we can keep the hospital out of this? I know I shouldn’t have asked her to cover for me, but... whatever happened could be sorted out privately, right?” She let out an awkward laugh, clearly unaware of the incident between the pro hero and you, and her focus instead on ensuring her little escape from work remained unnoticed. Her eyes flickered around the room to check no one could over hear her little confession before they landed on the bouquet in Todoroki’s hands, a spark of curiosity breaking through her tension.

“Are those... flowers?” she asked, her voice a little lighter, in a terrible attempt at shifting the topic after the lack of response from Todoroki.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Yes. Could you give them to her? As an apolo—"

Before he could finish, the nurse interrupted him. "She left early that day and hasn’t been back since. But I could tell her you want to see her when she is back ?” She offered.

The words hit Todoroki like a brick. You weren’t here. You hadn’t been here for three days, and it was undeniable—he was the reason for your absence. He had spent so much time thinking about you since arriving at the hospital, yet the truth slammed into him again: his thoughts had been filled with peaches, warmth, and beauty, while the reality was far darker. He couldn't escape the image of your tears, the memory of his unrelenting grip on your wrist as you tried to leave, the sickening sound of Kirishima’s fist connecting with his face, and the heavy, metallic scent of your blood staining the hospital’s sterile white floor. Now, all he could see was the wreckage he had caused you, and the painful realization that perhaps the only apology he truly needed to offer was leaving you alone.

Don’t tell me you thought it would be that easy. The reader is over there thinking her life is over, and you think she’s just going to go back to work?

Todoroki is a mess in this chapter, blushing and acting bashful like a high schooler with his first crush (this will make sense later). But, I didn’t want to downplay what happened to the reader too much. Todoroki should at least be aware of the consequences of his actions. I thought ending on a serious note would provide a nice contrast to the silly ending of the previous chapter. God I hope I didn’t write myself in a corner but I think I’ll make it work.

I think we’ve seen enough of Todoroki for now—next chapter will focus on Izuku! I know Todoroki may seem like my favorite character in this fic since, aside from the reader, he’s had the most POV chapters (probably more than the reader), but surprisingly, he’s not actually my favorite from the group. Don’t worry, though. I’m not playing favorites in thisbdix. Everyone will get their fair share of attention and dedicated chapters. We’re just starting off with a lot of Todoroki.

2,2k words, the chapter is extra long as an apology to the wait. Oh yeah, I am still waiting on the polls results but I’ll be honest, I maybe just decide for something else.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

06 <- 07 -> 08

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist. This taglist is lowkey getting out of hand 😭

-> If you want to tag in the next update, check out the taglist post !

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender r ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ; @roxy776699 ; @kamy-thee-egg ; @talia-the-gemini ; @pikachuzhc ; @itsnotjustmyself-blog ; @roxy776699 ; @mystic60 ; @reallysparklychaos ; @sixxze ; @blurryperrtymoonlight ; @1poison-cat1 ; @allyfoxglove ; @mindsbloody ; @jkvolgs ; @haruaikawa ; @k3nmakyan ; @my-anime-garden

[ohgodthevoices]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Save point °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

time skip kenma x f!reader

word count : 2922

Premise : You’re a concept artist who recently moved to Tokyo after a personal tragedy left you questioning your purpose. You take a low-key job at a new gaming studio, where you meet Kenma Kozume, the quiet yet sharp CEO. Initially, you clash—Kenma is reserved and brutally honest, while you’re more expressive but guarded. However, as you work together on a passion project, the walls you’ve both built around yourselves begin to crumble.

note : this fanfic will be on my ao3 >here< it might be more organized and easier to keep up with it but i will still upload the chapters here <3

chapter 1/ chapter 2

Chapter one

The Tokyo skyline stretched endlessly outside the glass windows of the modest office. The sound of computers and the faint clicking of keyboards filled the space, a rhythm you’d grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. But today, there was an edge in the air—a tension you couldn’t ignore.

You adjusted your headphones, trying to drown out the growing sense of unease. You began to notice every little noise, the elevator opening and closing , the cars beeping outside, the messed up tie of the man walking past you, the ice melting in your cup of coffee.

“You’ll be collaborating directly with Kozume-san on the upcoming project. Effective immediately.”

Your stomach churned. You’d only been here a month, barely long enough to learn everyone’s names, let alone work with the CEO himself. You had joined this company partly because of its reputation for having a younger, laid-back workforce. It was refreshing to work somewhere that didn’t require stiff suits or stifling formalities. Here, you could stroll into the office in sweats, hair undone and no one would bat an eye. It wasnt simple allowed, it was the norm.

You worked in the artistic department, where your job was to bring life to the game’s visuals—character designs, environments, and UI elements. Your desk was a cluttered haven of sketches, color palettes, and concept art pinned to the walls.

It was the kind of work you’d dreamed about during late nights in art school, but the reality was far more demanding than you’d anticipated.

Deadlines were tight, revisions were endless, and creativity didn’t always come on command. Some days, the ideas flowed effortlessly, your tablet pen gliding across the screen as you brought fantastical worlds to life. Other days, you’d stare at a blank canvas, frustration bubbling as you struggled to meet expectations.

Your first impression of Kenma Kozume came in passing, and even then, he was hard to miss.

The first time you saw him, he was slouched at a desk in the far corner of the office, hoodie pulled over his head, fingers flying across his laptop keyboard. He didn’t look up once, even as people moved around him, his focus unshakable.

The second time, you caught a glimpse of him in the break room. He stood by the coffee machine, staring blankly at the counter as it filled his mug. There was something oddly unapproachable about him, even in such a mundane moment. He had an air of detachment, like the world around him barely registered unless it directly affected him.

You’d never spoken to him, but you’d already decided he wasn’t the type to make small talk or exchange pleasantries. Still, there was something magnetic about him, something that made you wonder what went on behind those sharp, tired eyes.

You had learned that prior to you , Kenma was never really in the office , he was still a streamer more than a CEO , after all this game developement project is only possible thanks to his succesful gaming career. However recently , once he saw how sucessful his idea got , he was now more present in the office and hired more people , you included.

“Hey, Y/N!”

A bright, cheerful voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. You looked up to see Kaori, her vibrant pink hair catching the fluorescent light as she leaned against your desk. Her wide grin and colorful appearance were like a splash of sunshine in the otherwise neutral-toned office.

“Hey,” she said, tilting her head. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You blinked, the metaphor hitting a little too close to home. “That’s… not far off,” you admitted, gesturing to your screen. “I have to work with Kozume-san. On his project.”

Kaori let out a low whistle, plopping into the chair beside you. “Oof, that’s a big one. But hey, you’re amazing at what you do. You’ll be fine.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What if I mess up? He’s… him. He’s probably going to hate everything I do.” you bury you hand into the palm of you hands

“What if—”

“Nope.” Kaori held up a hand, cutting you off. “No ‘what ifs.’ You’re going to go in there, show him what you’ve got, and if he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem. Not yours.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at her unwavering energy. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” she said with a wink. “Just think of him as a moody NPC. He might be hard to impress, but you’ve got the skills to win him over.

That made you laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Kaori. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” she said, standing up and flipping her hair dramatically over her shoulder. “Now, go slay that boss battle. You’re the main character, after all.”

As she walked back to her desk, her bright presence lingering in the air, you took a deep breath. Maybe Kaori was right. You could do this. You just had to believe it yourself.

You checked your schedule, hoping—praying—that there had been some kind of mistake. But there it was, glaring at you in bold letters:

Meeting with Kozume-san | 2:00 PM | Conference Room 3

Your stomach sank. It wasn’t just a casual check-in; you were expected to present your ideas.

You glanced at your tablet, where the rough sketches and concept notes for the project stared back at you. The game was a platformer with a futuristic theme, but Kenma had insisted on “keeping it simple.” That vague direction had left you stuck between creating something bold and eye-catching or playing it safe with minimalist designs.

The game you were working on was set in a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk world, a crumbling cityscape where neon lights flickered through the smog and towering skyscrapers were half-collapsed, their skeletal remains a testament to a world long past its prime. The streets were flooded with a mix of broken technology and rusted machinery, the last remnants of a once-thriving society. With game mecanics similar to The Last Of Us , the players would collects ressources and try to survive in groups.

Your characters were survivors—scrappy, resourceful, and filled with the grit needed to navigate this decaying world. You’d designed them to be mismatched, each with their own story written into their attire, their scars, their expressions. The environments were dark, gritty, and filled with the hum of malfunctioning tech, but you’d infused them with moments of color—neon signs, glowing graffiti, the occasional flicker of hope in the bleakness.

But now, staring at your designs, the doubt began to creep in. Was it too much? Kenma was known for his minimalist approach, and here you were, drowning in the chaos of color and detail. Would he see your vision as too loud, too cluttered for the world he had in mind?

The clock was ticking. You had less than a couple hours before the meeting.

You were so absorbed in tweaking the final details of your designs that you didn’t notice Kaori approaching your desk. Without a word, she set a takeout bag down in front of you with a soft thud, the scent of warm food wafting through the air. A thumbs-up and a smirk was the only indication she’d left before she walked away,

With a quiet exhale and a smile, you grabbed the food, letting yourself step away from the screen. For a few minutes, you allowed yourself to just eat, to breathe, to let the chaos of your thoughts settle.

————————————————————————

You stood in front of the conference room door, your heart pounding in your chest. The cold metal of the doorknob felt like a weight in your hand

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but your hands were shaking. The designs you’d worked so hard on, the ones that felt like your heart and soul poured onto the screen, suddenly felt like they weren’t enough. What if Kenma didn’t get it? What if he didn’t like it?

You glanced down at your phone, checking the time. Five minutes. Just five minutes until you have to go in.

You reached for the doorknob, your fingers trembling slightly, but before you could turn it, the door suddenly swung open, and you stumbled back in surprise.

Kenma Kozume stood there, but he wasn’t alone. A sleek, black cat perched casually on his shoulder, its golden eyes eerily similar to his own.

His light blonde hair, slightly messy and falling over his forehead, gave him a perpetually disheveled look. He didn’t seem to care much about appearances, as his hoodie—gray and a bit oversized—hung loosely on his frame, paired with comfortable, worn-in jeans.

The cat let out a soft meow, and Kenma, unfazed, gave it a quick scratch under the chin before glancing at you. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a faint flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

“You’re early,” he said simply, stepping aside to let you in.

Your eyes darted between him and the cat, trying to process what you were seeing.

Waaa the cat looks exactly like him!

You hadn’t pegged him as the type to bring a pet—let alone one so comfortably perched on his shoulder—to a meeting.

As you hesitated, the cat jumped down gracefully, landing on the conference table with a soft thud. It padded across the surface, tail flicking, before curling up near the laptop that was clearly set up for the presentation.

Kenma sat down without a word, as if this was all completely normal, and started typing on his laptop.

“You can start whenever,” he said, not looking up

Snapping out of your daze, you stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind you. The cat’s gaze followed you as you moved toward the table, its tail swishing lazily.

Your tablet felt heavier in your hands as you set it down, your designs still vivid on the screen. You glanced at Kenma, but his focus remained fixed on his laptop.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint clicking of keys. You cleared your throat softly, hoping to signal that you were ready to start, but the sound barely registered.

Instead, it was the cat that took action. It stood, padded over to your tablet, and plopped down directly on top of it, effectively blocking your work from view.

Your eyes widened, and you froze, unsure of what to do. “Um…”

Kenma finally looked up, his gaze shifting between you and the cat. For a moment, you thought you saw the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

“Pudding,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. The cat flicked its tail but didn’t move.

“Pudding?” you replied before you could stop yourself.

Kenma leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “That’s her name. She likes warm surfaces. Just move her.”

You hesitated, not wanting to offend the feline—or its owner. Tentatively, you reached out, sliding your hands under the cat’s small frame. Pudding meowed in protest but allowed herself to be relocated to the edge of the table.

As soon as your tablet was clear, you turned it on and opened your designs. The glowing images of the post-apocalyptic cyberpunk world filled the screen, casting faint neon reflections onto the polished table.

Kenma leaned forward slightly, his attention finally shifting to your work. His golden eyes narrowed as he studied the sketches, the lines of his face giving nothing away.

Your heart raced as the silence stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity. You wanted to explain, to justify your choices, but the words caught in your throat.

Finally, Kenma spoke, his voice quiet but deliberate. “Why did you choose this color palette?”

The question was simple, but it carried weight. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I wanted to balance the desolation of the setting with moments of vibrancy,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “The neon lights and glowing elements are meant to represent remnants of the old world—hope, even in destruction.”

Kenma didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between the tablet and you. Then, without a word, he reached out and swiped to the next image.

The room fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle as Pudding shifted on the table.

You watched as Kenma swiped through your designs, his expression neutral. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, before you began to explain your characters.

“These characters are survivors,” you said, gesturing to the designs on the tablet. “Each one has their own backstory, their own way of navigating this broken world. I wanted them to stand out in contrast to the bleak environment—each piece of their clothing, their scars, their accessories, all tell a story of where they’ve been and what they’ve had to survive.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked over the characters, his gaze flickering between the vibrant details of their outfits and the muted tones of the world around them. He didn’t seem to react at first, but then he spoke, his voice calm and direct.

“They’re too flashy for side characters,” he said, his tone flat but cutting. “If they’re meant to be secondary, the design needs to be more subtle. The world you’ve created is chaotic, but the characters should blend into it, not dominate it.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest at his words. You had poured so much into these characters, wanting them to feel real, to feel alive in a world that had been stripped of so much.

“You’ve got a strong concept,” he said, his tone softer now. “Just need to refine the details.”

You nodded, trying to absorb his feedback. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was something you could work with.

The room felt quieter now, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of his criticism, but you also knew that this was the process.

You had to adapt.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped to the next character design, one of the more subdued ones. “I understand what you mean,” you said, your voice more composed now. “Maybe I went a little overboard. But these characters, they’ve lived through so much. I wanted them to feel like they’ve earned their place in this world.”

Kenma didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached forward, swiping through the designs once more, his eyes scanning them critically. Pudding, who had been lounging on the table, lazily swatted at the edge of the tablet, causing the screen to flicker slightly.

Kenma glanced at the cat, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Pudding,” he muttered, gently pushing her paw away from the screen. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to you.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “The characters do need to feel like they’ve earned their place. But if they’re secondary, they shouldn’t demand attention. The focus needs to be on the world. The players need to feel like they’re in the world, not just looking at it.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. The idea was starting to click, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I’ll adjust the designs,” you said, determination creeping back into your voice. “I’ll make them blend into the world more, but still keep their individuality. They need to feel like they belong, but also like they’ve got something to prove.”

Kenma nodded, his eyes flicking to the screen one last time before he stood up. “Good. That’s what I want to see. Take your time with it. The meeting’s over for now.”

your mind already racing with ideas for revisions. As you gathered your things, Pudding meowed again, hopping onto your lap before you could get up.

You blinked, surprised, but couldn’t help but chuckle.

Kenma gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. “She likes you.”

You smiled faintly, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. You still had a lot of work to do, but now you had a clearer direction.

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. You had the feedback you needed. Now it was up to you to turn it into something even better.

You stepped out of the conference room, still processing Kenma’s feedback. The weight of the revisions hung over you, but you were determined to prove him wrong, to make the changes and show him you could do it.

As you made your way down the hallway, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, it was an email from Kenma.

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen. Why would he email me?

You opened the message, your eyes scanning the short, direct note:

I want to see the updated designs by tomorrow. Come to my office at 5 PM.

Your heart skipped a beat.

His office? Tomorrow ? you didnt have much time…

Before you could process it, someone called your name from behind. You turned, only to find Kenma standing at the end of the hallway, his expression unreadable.

He was looking directly at you, his eyes piercing through the distance.

“Don’t be late,” he said, his voice low, and then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

You stood frozen, the weight of the email and his words sinking in. What was this really about?

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

The News - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 6)

Previous

*************

Whenever a prominent and famous otherkin announces that they decide to transition into their species completely, and especially after they finish the process, it becomes the number one hot topic among the community. That was such a day.

"So they really made it through?" Arja said, looking into the sky.

"Yes. Half the fan base is in chaos."

"Lucky them. I wonder where they are now."

"Nobody's really sure. I bet on some lonely cave in the mountains."

Something about the clouds that day felt fervent that day. The world opened a new chapter.

"You know, they were a very big figure. A lot is going on. It feels like the greatest debate in the world."

"It really seems to dislike the idea of discarding your humanity just like that."

"It always tries to stop social changes. Individual, collective, one dog."

"So how loud are those who think it's suicide of the mind?"

"Greatly."

Arja sighed. "I fucking knew it."

"But other sides are getting believers too."

"And what do you think?"

"That you're still yourself. It's just your behaviour that aligns with your body."

"That's a nice way of looking at it."

"That's what the most proves point to."

Our talk brought my mind to a topic I wanted to move for a long time.

"Arja, do you want to go all the way?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Maybe. But I would root for you and appreciate our time together."

"Even if I had to go to a lonely cave in the mountains?"

"Yes, I'd get ready for that."

"Aw, that's sweet. But no, I'd much prefer to go for hybridisation."

"I see. Then I guess you're close. You'll be mighty, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arja made a pause. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ask her question. "Hey, if you could do it then how far would you go? Don't answer if you're not comfortable."

"All the way."

"Really?"

"Don't tell me there were no signs."

"I mean, there were. But with how much you like to write I wasn't sure."

"I think talons and the beak are enough to use a keyboard."

I quickly realised I wasn't telling Arja the entire truth. I knew that I should be more honest.

"Well, that's what I would like to say."

"It's not just about that. My body takes anything medical worse and worse recently. I'm afraid that if I tried to do it it would destroy me. And I'm not even talking about my heart anymore."

"Eh, as if it all couldn't leave you."

"Yeah."

"But didn't you got through much tougher stuff?"

"Last time I had new complications."

"And would you like Her to win?"

I knew who Arja referred to as Her. If you are in the otherkin community you have for sure heard about a particular writer. One that really wants us gone. One that I swore to one day be better than.

"True. I can let a lot of people win, but not Her."

"Now that's the Ashley I know."

"Hey one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like me to be your pet?"

"I don't think one can keep crows."

"Well, that sucks. And I guess that's another reason why I don't know anymore."

"Hey, we can still be friends. I can leave you fruits in a feeder."

"Thanks. I don't know what I could do for you though."

"Oh, just peck on the uninvited guests."

"And without violence?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

*************

My crow cooldown has ended and here I go. I wanted to write about something else and less emotionally, but I changed my plans after I saw the last page from @ayviedoesthings . I think half the community did.

Also, for those who are like me and have a hard time learning idioms, "one dog" means roughly "there's no difference" and I encountered it in Polish.

Aha. Maybe there's a good reason why you can't adopt crows in many regions of the world, but not for a constitutional homo marriage ban. Caw with me if you agree.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Suicide Prevention Month

TW: Mentions of Suicide, Depression, Death, Familial Issues

In honor of Suicide Prevention Month, I want to share something that’s been weighing on me for a long time. From ages 11 to 19, I tried—five different times—to end my life. I was convinced that the darkness was all there was, that there was nothing beyond the pain I felt. But now, almost 20 years old, I’ve realized how wrong I was. If any of those attempts had succeeded, I wouldn’t be here to experience all the beauty and opportunity this life has to offer.

It’s hard to put into words just how much I’ve learned about myself over the years. I’ve been through more pain than I ever thought I could endure. There were moments when it felt like even the darkness was too bright for me, and all I wanted was for everything to stop. Some days, that feeling still lingers. Some days, I wake up and wish I had succeeded. I find myself staring at a blank page with a pen clutched in my hand, or a blank screen with my hands over the keyboard, wondering if anyone would stand at my grave if I disappeared. 

But here’s what I’ve come to understand: If I have a reason to write a note, I have a reason to keep living. The very act of wanting to leave something behind, a final word or explanation, means there’s something still holding me here. Something still worth fighting for, even if I can’t always see it in the moment.

Life isn’t easy. I know firsthand what it’s like to feel like the world has turned its back on you. 

My life is far from perfect. I’m still dealing with things that weigh me down, wounds that have never fully healed.  For as long as I can remember, I’ve been trying to reconcile what it means to be "unwanted." And for a long time, I thought that meant I didn’t deserve to be here.There are times when I still feel like I’m on the outside looking in, struggling with rejection from the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally. When I was 18, I almost died in a car accident, and my mother didn’t shed a single tear. I can vividly remember lying in that hospital bed, watching her scroll through her phone as if my being there was nothing more than an inconvenience.

I still feel the weight of that day. But the most painful moment was later, during a heated argument when I broke down and whispered, "I wish I had died." My mother, who had started a new family with my stepfather and seemed to drift away more and more each second had shot back immediatelt "Well, too bad you didn’t."

It was in that moment, more than any other, that I truly felt abandoned—like I was nothing but an obligation to her. It was the moment I realized the cage I felt trapped in was my own hope that my mother might one day see me, acknowledge me, love me the way I had longed for her to. That kind of pain—the pain of abandonment, of never being enough for the people who are supposed to love you the most—it doesn’t go away overnight. Maybe it never fully goes away at all.

But here’s what I’ve learned: the pain isn’t forever. No matter how much it hurts right now, it won’t always hurt this bad. Over time, it becomes easier to carry. There are days now where I can breathe again, where I’m reminded that life still has so much left for me to experience.And that i deserve to be here. That God put me on this planet for a reason. That whatever you believe in - God, Allah, the Universe, Science- there is a reason why you are here. And if I deserve to be here- so do you.

No matter how hard life gets, and trust me, it gets unbearably hard sometimes, there is still so much left to experience. There’s still love to be found, friendships to build, moments of pure joy and connection that you can’t even begin to imagine when you’re stuck in that dark place. If those five attempts had worked, I never would’ve had the chance to meet new people, to maybe one day fall in love, to start a family of my own. I wouldn’t be here, sitting at my desk, writing this, hoping that my words reach even just one person who needs to hear it.

Sometimes, when things feel like they’re too much, I find solace in the small, ordinary moments. The smell of coffee in the morning. The feeling of dread when I see a spider and know I have to deal with it. The excitement of seeing a friend I hadn’t seen in a while, or the simple contentment of putting my thoughts on paper. Life isn’t just made up of the big, earth-shattering moments; it’s these small, everyday experiences that give it meaning.

I’ll be honest—there are days when I still struggle. Days where I feel like I’m slipping back into that tunnel where the light at the end seems unreachable. I know that feeling well. I’m going through it right now, in fact. It hits me hard, especially knowing that even during my lowest points, there were no tears shed for me. That’s a kind of pain that lingers.

But even in the midst of that pain, I’ve learned something important: suicide is a permanent solution to a set of temporary problems. I’m not saying that life will magically get better overnight, or that you won’t face hardships moving forward. You will. Life doesn’t pull any punches. But what I am saying is that there are bright, beautiful days ahead of you, ones that you can’t even fathom yet. There are people you’ll meet along the way who will walk with you, hold your hand, and help you face whatever’s ahead. You don’t have to be scared to face those days alone.

There are people in my life who I rely on heavily—people who don’t even know how much they mean to me because I don’t want to burden them with my struggles. Sometimes it’s the smallest things they do that make the biggest difference. And that’s something I’ve learned recently: even when you feel like a burden, even when you feel like no one cares, there are people who love and need you, even if they don’t always show it in the way you hope they would.

You are loved. You are needed. And I know that might be hard to believe right now, but trust me, it’s true. If I could go back and talk to that 11-year-old me, the one who thought that the only way out was to end it all, I’d tell her to hang on. That the future, while uncertain and sometimes terrifying, is full of possibility. That there are so many more smiles to smile, more laughs to laugh, more songs to hear, more stories to live.

I’ve lived 19 years as an adult. Almost 20. And it’s only now that I’m starting to experience that pure, childlike wonder I thought was lost to me forever. It’s only now that I’m beginning to see what’s truly possible in life. And if any of those five attempts had succeeded, I would’ve missed out on all of it. On the hope of finding love, of giving my future children the kind of love I yearned for growing up. On the anticipation of doing great things. On the nervous indecisiveness of realizing that my future is wide open, waiting for me to step into it.

So if you feel like you can’t take another day, I want you to know that it *will* get better. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, you’ll reach the end of that tunnel. And when you do, there will be people waiting for you, ready to help pull you through. Stay for them. Stay for the small moments you haven’t experienced yet, the ones that seem insignificant but make life worth living. Stay because your story isn’t over yet, and you are the one who gets to write the next chapter.

It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel lost. But know this—you are strong enough to get through it. I’ve been there. But I’m still here, and I’m asking you to stay, too. Stay to see the good that’s still waiting for you. Stay to laugh, to cry, to feel all the things that make life real. Stay, because you are loved, even when you can’t see it. You matter more than you know.

You are the author of your story. It’s not finished yet, and the best chapters are still ahead. Stay for them. Stay for you. 

You matter. Your life matters. And the world is a better place with you in it.

[saaraahka]

You post a lot of things wondering when you're going to be loved by someone so let me ask: What active steps are you taking to be what you deem loveable and desirable? How are you preparing yourself for that future domme? You can always make that your own to-do list until that special someone is around to write one for you. Best of luck in finding them!

Hii anon and what a lovely ask and set of good and important questions to think of!

So I think a short answer to both questions is i actively try to do and learn to be better at, to at least in my mind to become more loveable and desirable is,

being kinder to myself when trying but not achieving what id like and see it as a learning oportunity not only a failure from my part.

Being more talkative and creating strategies for myself on how to interact with women even when it is just something like saying hi which for me is harder than i can describe and verbal communication is extremely hard for me. With texting it's easier but still mostly involve staring at my keyboard anxiously spending days not getting anywhere.

I try use the skills I have to be useful and helpful in other women's everyday life although still trying to learn how to comunicate this and understand how and when to offer and if it is somethingthat would be appreciated. Although for me this mostly limited to cooking and baking for others and helping with practical things in the limited way I can.

And I try do and experience as much as I can on my own to get at least a sense of what it feels like for me and if it is something I'd like to explore with someone else.

More than anything (i believe) submission is not about actions more than leaving control to someone else and trust them with my needs being met while also meeting theirs. Maybe it makes it hard to prepare myself for a unknown potential future domme but I feel it's the honest way to approach it myself.

And ofc being as shy and insecure and hesitant as I am to social situations and i teraction with women dommes even more so, I still have a lot to work on just to feel like I have something to offer. Since well I feel like a good level of trust can only from in a close relationship (platonic or other). And this obviously doesn't mean trying to become someone I'm not but also I need to be able to show someone how much they mean to me and have to be able to have conversations were I'm considered an active part. Will all of this help me find that special someone I have no idea but I can only try.

Ugh was going to be a short answer. But also have no idea what I'm doing or what steps would be best to focus on in what order or what traits a domme would appreciate in me... so yeah any help and thoughts welcome.

Um anyway ty for the ask and hope this makes sense ❤️

[veliseraptor]

ok ok inspired by the recent success of the three sentence meme going to try my regular pre-flight 150 words meme. aka send me a number from the list of fics below and I will write 150 words in that fic

1. Pete sat down on the floor. Porsche, hovering, gave him a worried look. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Pete said, then adjusted, “sitting.” 

“I can see that,” Porsche said. “Are you okay?”

Pete laughed. “No,” he said. He didn’t know when he was going to be okay again.

“Um,” Porsche said. After a couple seconds he sat down on the floor with Pete and put an awkward hand on his shoulder. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

“No,” Pete said again. He didn’t know what he would even say, if there was anything to say. He was so tired and it felt like any minute now Vegas was going to die again, and he was just waiting for it to happen. (reduce, reuse, recycle)

2. “Can I ask you something?” Xiao Xingchen asked. Xue Yang glanced in his direction, fingers pausing on his keyboard.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds ominous. Hit me.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I was just wondering if you remember what you said when we first met.” Xue Yang had said no before, in the hospital, but it’d clearly been a lie then. He was hoping maybe the answer would be different now. Xue Yang made some kind of face, but it was hard to read. 

That, Xiao Xingchen thought absently, was one of the things he was going to miss most: the ability to see Xue Yang’s face and read his expressions. Not just because he liked looking at him, but because it was going to get even harder to tell what he was thinking. (Redux)

3. Which brought him here, in a room with a dirty, scruffy boy of indeterminate age (a skinny fifteen, maybe), his hands tied behind his back and an expression of casual unconcern on his face. Unconcern, except for the dangerous glint in his eyes that Jin Guangyao was going to be careful not to forget.

“I didn’t say to restrain him,” he said to the disciples who’d brought him back. He hadn’t, to be precise, told them to bring him at all, but there was no point in saying so now.

“He tried to attack me,” said one of them. 

“After you got in my face,” the boy said. “You deserved it.” (jgy teaches xy to read)

4. Oh, no, Pete thought again, but with a little more despair this time.

“Take Pete,” Khun Kinn said.

Vegas’s gaze swept to Pete, flicked slowly over him from head to toe. “Isn’t he one of Tankhun’s?” he said. “He won’t be thrilled that you’re loaning out his bodyguard to me.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“Considering Tankhun,” Vegas said, “it actually might end up being my problem.” (the devil drives)

5. That slight hitch. A correction. The muscles between Fenris’s shoulders tensed and he thought abruptly, disjointedly, of a red-haired woman sitting at a table in the Hanged Man, the sudden realization…

“Anders,” he said. The mage barely glanced at him, seeming distracted.

“That big thing in the sky is scarier,” said the young girl. She, unlike her father, was looking at Fenris. “I heard it’s full of demons that’re trying to come out. What’re those lines on your skin, mister?” 

“They’re tattoos,” Fenris said. His limbs felt heavy. He glanced toward his sword, three paces away. “Meant to imitate Dalish vallaslin.” He hadn’t meant to say that. Something was wrong. “Anders,” he said again.

Anders was looking at his hands and frowning. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Where did you find magebane?” (the best all lack conviction)

6. Malkar meant it when he’d said he was going to demand a lot of me. He said if I wanted to be a hocus - wizard - nobody could know where I came from. “Do you think the Mirador will welcome a whore from Pharoahlight?” he asked me. “No one must ever know where you came from. They’d throw you out on the streets. Now tell me about the Curia again, and for god’s sake, mind your vowels.” 

And when I didn’t do well enough, fast enough, there were always consequences.

“This is how you learn, Felix,” Malkar said while I was shaking on hands and knees at his feet. He bent down and took my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking up at him, but he was gentle about it now. “It is for your own good.” (Pygmalion)

7. “Why are you so eager,” Song Lan asked. Xue Yang laughed, his smile turning sharper, a little less pleased.

“Why wouldn’t I be? A chance to help these poor people. Wouldn’t miss it.” Song Lan waited silently, and Xue Yang’s eyes cut away. “I’m curious, Song-daozhang,” he said. “Is there something wrong with that? Walking around with you and your judgmental glare gets boring. Give me a problem to chew on, a mystery to figure out, something.” (Walking Far From Home)

8. “Tell me...tell me how we met,” Xiao Xingchen said.

A brief pause that made Xiao Xingchen’s stomach swoop with sudden unease. “What,” his friend said lightly, “did you forget that, too?” 

“I’m…” Xiao Xingchen wasn’t sure if he should apologize or not. He tried to remember, even if thinking made his head hurt, searching through his jumbled thoughts. Something about the smell of blood? A fragment of thought: at least I might be able to fix this.  “You were hurt,” he said, half a question.

“Uh huh,” his friend said. “That’s good.”

“And I found you,” Xiao Xingchen said, a little more confidently. “Helped you.” (xiao xingchen + concussion)

[feyspeaker]

Hii me again. I'm not sure if I sent the ask I'm talking about on anon, so maybe that's why you didn't see it? It partially got answered with a recent ask you got anyway so no worries. I was just wondering if you use 3d in your process and if so, how? I've seen other illustrators use it to varying degrees and it seems like a really helpful tool to push your work.

Oh that's so weird! No I periodically go through my asks in chunks and I didn't see anything like that. I've had a few people in the past few months send me asks that looked like the second half of something else with no context, so maybe it's Tumblr fuckery. Sorry!!

I recommend learning Blender so you can help sculpt shapes and render lighting onto them in order to get the weirder/more complex shadows right. You can also apply colors onto the things you sculpt in order to see how the colors act in different lighting. It's pretty much an invaluable tool to me as it keeps me from having to problem-solve too much. I did a lot of digging around in my house to build references to photograph but it was just impractical to achieve the things I want to a lot of the time. I still do that, and you would not believe how many goofy photos I have of my husband in the poses you've seen me paint Astarion in lmao...

I do think that it needs to be used in moderation if you are a more beginner artist- I think that using 3D is DANGEROUSLY close to becoming a massive crutch for a newer artist and improper usage or over reliance on it can lead to stiffness or artificial looking colors. You need to be able to train your eye to create compelling compositions by bashing things together, and train your hand to replicate/add/subtract as needed from your references with an organic feel.

I will say this as a total committer of this crime myself in the past, it's VERY easy to tell when an artist relies too much on, for example, Clip Studio Paint posed models as bases for pieces without a good enough grasp on their fundamentals. And I also used to prickle when I saw more advanced artists warn of this, so I do think maybe it just has to run its course sometimes, because I know that using 3D for reference seems like an easy-button.

I've taken a lot of in-person classes for live figure drawing and painting, as well as just totally done drills, basically, on sketching and painting from life before relying too much on static imagery/3D/etc.

I often fret over every piece I do looking too stiff even still.

You have to do a LOT of the boring hard stuff the old fashioned way. And I regularly go back to it over and over when needed.

For example, I recently did a stupid amount of rose petal/flower studies deconstructing and painting ugly little paintings/doodles over and over because I know that I've been horribly weak at painting flowers for years (actively avoiding them). And I've been doing a lot of floral stuff lately due to that.

Whenever I start a new piece in new territory, I know it's going to mean several 3AM nighters where I have two other tabs open on Photoshop where I test out different textures or do a couple of studies. I'm working on a piece of my OC right now that has a lot of gore/medical instruments and I've been working on testing out different methods for shiny metal painting and some anatomical studies. I'll come to a snag in a painting and go "here we go" and work through it one piece at a time.

My Halsin piece, "Secret Spot" in the hot spring, was a massive undertaking with a lot of these moments. The Karlach x Dammon piece took 3 times longer than it should have due to me just having to go back and fix things knowing I could do better after doing some studies.

Ultimately I personally find art tutorials to be quite useless overall once you get to a certain point, unless they are teaching the use of a tool/software because you HAVE to figure out what works for you. And even then I use Blender like a monkey with a keyboard, I suspect, because I've just bruteforced through it, so I could probably use a tuneup from a good teacher on that haha. I hope this helps some, and sorry if I overstepped if I sound preachy.

[wrongcaitlyn]

Are we going to see anything more… mature… in Nico and Will’s relationship in tyt? I know that sex and like sex education should be normalized a lot more within teenagers and like society as a whole, but I feel rlly weird asking. I understand that it’s obviously very real and valid if you as an author feel uncomfortable writing about it, but I was wondering if there would be a mention of … something? Obviously fine if not

I just mean like how they’ve learned to grow and mature into young adults (which is something really hard with extended lengths fics, to show how characters grow like aging kids do from the characters us as writers usually start with in our heads). I think it’d be a great way to show how Nico has grown as person, and also normalizing the fact that these are growing young men and women in this fic, and that sex is a normal part of life.

Let me be clear‼️ I am NOT asking you to like write smut or something, just wondering if we’ll be getting a mention of that kinda thing.

that's a totally valid question!! and short answer: no, not really. and this is similar to the thing with pet names - logically, i know that they do it, and it makes sense - but i just don't know how to write it, don't feel very comfortable writing it, and so i don't write it😭

i think the closest i've ever gotten is like that one line where cecil makes a joke after nico flies to nashville, and it's like "do everything i wouldn't do!" because he's ace. sorry that was funny to meSDLKJF but yeah dirty jokes are about the furthest i'll get, just because i'm a sex-repulsed ace and it just feels weird to me, personally.

also, i've written a few fade to black scenes in other fics, and everytime i even get CLOSE to it i literally have to shut my eyes and look away from the keyboard because i'm just. cringing. idk i feel like whenever i even try to attempt a heavy makeout session it's just...sjdfksjdjkaf

i'm not sure if i'll ever like mention it offhandedly, because to me- idk, it just feels strange? especially in this fic, seeing as they started at fifteen in this universe, and so even though ik that they're nineteen now, it's just... this gut feeling i guess? like, i feel like i'm slightly more comfortably implying sex in fics where they start off at an older age, like, 20+.

and this is 100% not meant to shame authors who do write smut/implied underage sex, like as long as it's safe that's completely fine!! it's just a personal preference, and i feel super awkward writing anything even remotely dirty. like, some aces have this superpower of writing smut but i do not have that, i can barely get kiss scenes to sound naturalSLKDF

but thank you for the ask!! i've been kind of avoiding anything to do with that, so the answer is this: probably not. at most, a few dirty jokes and a brief mention. we'll see if it ever just comes into the fic, but i don't have any plans for it right now!

[thewinter-eden]

almost summer | kim seungmin (11)

11 : I CAN'T WORK OUT TO THAT

Pairings: KIM SEUNGMIN x OC | YANG JEONGIN x OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: none. Felix appearance?

almost summer masterlist Comment a request to be tagged!

< last chapter | next chapter >

I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself. -Ruta Sepetys

The order came as no surprise.

Maven hardly expected their assignment to come to a close so soon, and while she’d hoped that their next task would be something more active, like rescuing the people or destroying the camp, Seungmin was right—to efficiently learn more about the Nokken’s efforts against humanity, they needed to gather all of the data they could find.

She hated when Seungmin was right.

She also hated when their superiors agreed with him.

It always inflated his already behemoth ego.

Of all the things she’d missed about him, dealing with his ego was not included.

He’d always acted like he possessed the wisdom and knowledge of a man twice his age, which only made him seem doubly preposterous since he was clueless and unperceptive as a boy half his age.

She used to think he just had a healthy self-assurance compared to her crippling self doubt. After he shucked her like a winter parka, she’d realized that she was uncomfortable about his ego because he had an inflated sense of self worth, not because she was used to being insecure.

“I’ll have a document drawn up by tonight.” Captain Lee said to her after Seungmin excused himself from the office. He’d said something about meeting up with someone and ducked out before Lee excused them.

Maven still sat primly before his desk, hands joined on her lap.

The Captain of the Vesper went on. “It will detail generally what I want from the lab; I’ll send it directly to University Station where the techs can come up with a tool to get the job done and the agent in charge can work with Lieutenant Seo to come up with logistics for the operation.”

Maven watched him speak, unsure of how to respond. He seemed to be speaking to himself, gaze still firmly focused on his computer screen. She hadn’t realized until precisely that moment that she couldn’t quite pinpoint how old he was. He had the physical fitness of a young guy in his twenties, but the set of his hardened face could have made him forty-five. It didn’t help that he spent most of his life on an aircraft carrier and half of the lines and veins evident on her face were directly caused by how much sun exposure he got.

The man could have been a model for a tanning commercial.

“You and Agent Kim will likely be set to perform this operation in two or three days. I expect to see two or three practice drills.” Captain Lee said. His voice droned with a hint of a southern drawl.

Unsure how they would execute practice drills for him and wondering if he planned for them to stay onboard the Vesper for a few days, Maven frowned. “Sir?” She hadn’t even brought her toothbrush.

The captain’s eyes finally slid sideways to behold her, like he couldn’t believe he had to explain himself. “The simulation room at University Station is set up to record sessions. Lieutenant Seo is obligated to include your mission practices as part of his supervision of Almost Summer.”

“Oh.” Maven wondered why no one had told her that before. She also wondered how many of their interactions had been recorded and shared. She didn’t want all of the death glares she’d given Seungmin during operation briefings to be on her record. It was hard enough to maintain a passable reputation as a former desk jockey.

She made a mental note to better school her behavior.

Pulling his hands away from his keyboard, Captain Lee turned his shoulders to face her squarely. For a few minutes, his sharp features rested into a terse expression as he examined her closely.

Maven didn’t dare move.

She felt like she’d been sent to her parents room for discipline.

While she’d been an intelligence analyst, her exposure to Captain Lee had been limited to official and formal capacities, where she’d been part of a crew or a team, and never addressed by him directly.

As a newly-minted Special Agent, she’d been in his office twice, both times held under intense scrutiny.

His heavy stare was beginning to make her itch.

She cleared her throat. “Is there anything else, sir?”

Lee Minho inhaled deeply, as though he’d been holding his breath, or possibly had forgotten to breathe. “Almost Summer is an incredibly important assignment, Agent Spanaway; it has only increased in importance as it uncovers more data. Do you understand? You are monitoring one of the most significant Nokken presences on Earth, and human lives are intimately at stake.”

Confused, Maven answered in the affirmative. No pressure.

When had she given the impression that she was taking their job lightly?

Lee's eyes narrowed. “Your assignment is highly sensitive.”

“Yes sir.” Seems somewhat obvious.

“It cannot afford to be afflicted by the graceless handling of your partnership.”

A minute ticked by in silence. Oh.

In other words, get over the personal inhibitions and work together like a proper team.

Maven nodded dutifully. “I understand, sir.” To create the well-oiled machine that he wanted to see in their partnership, she would have to remove herself entirely, working not as Maven Spanaway, but as VALOR Special Agent Mayhem.

A L M O S T    S U M M E R

University Station had a weight room.

Upon arriving back in Houston, Maven promptly shucked her VALOR uniform, changed into a set of gym clothes, and hustled upstairs to work out some of the ever-increasing frustration over the job that she’d thought would bring her back to life but was only turning out to burden her.

Maybe her first assignment was trial by fire—maybe upon its completion she would have a nice, standard posting either by herself or with a brand new person. Maybe after suffering through Almost Summer, assignment number two would put the wind back in her sails.

Three sets into an extremely satisfying bench press workout, Maven found herself thrown off focus by her music decreasing rapidly in volume. She replaced the bar on the rack and sat up abruptly, eyes snapping over to the radio at the front of the room.

Seungmin stood there, scrolling through the music options, dressed in his sloppy, slouchy basketball shorts that might have been from the nineties and a ratty, oversized t-shirt. Nothing about his frumpy appearance supported his decision to walk around like he was God’s gift to VALOR.

Grumbling under her breath, Maven dropped back down on the bench and reached for the bar again. I definitely wasn’t here first. I don’t need a bit of deference for the music selection. She pushed her way through another few reps, knowing he was undoubtedly turning on some high-tempo rock anime soundtrack.

He’d always thought she should have liked his music because she was a rock fan, and he’d never understood that there was a drastic difference between her rock music and his anime soundtracks. Drums are drums, he’d said.

She finished her fourth set and got up to take some weight off the bar for a drop set when the rapid fire beat of drums and electric guitar came booming out of the speakers overhead.

Typical.

Seungmin sauntered past, pretend-shredding an air guitar against his leg as he headed for the free weights.

It was nauseating to watch.

He paused near her, and flashed a charming smile. “I hope you don’t mind. You know I’ve always loved your music. I just need something a little more energetic to get me through.”

Anger flashed across her face.

He’d walked in and changed her music without a word and then explained himself away like his reasoning was entitlement.

He hadn’t changed at all.

She was already plugging in her headphones. Just because he took the liberty of hijacking her music didn’t mean she had to listen to his.

Seungmin had been affecting her mood too much.

She was allowing him to affect her to the point that the captain was watching her, just waiting for her to screw up and throw a hissy fit over a boy.

She laid down on the bench again, the comforting sounds of her own music playing in her ears. The fact that it drowned out Seungmin's mumbling sing along session was merely a bonus.

Managing eight good reps before she feared she’d have to ask for help to get the bar back on the rack, Maven moved on to her next exercise, looking up only once to see that Seungmin was entirely focused on slow, heavy bicep curls.

He’d improved since they’d last worked out together.

A L M O S T   S U M M E R

Lieutenant Seo found them in the break room an hour later. They had the entire room between them, sitting at different tables, facing opposite directions. As he entered, observing the situation, he rapped his knuckles against the door frame to catch their attention.

Maven looked up first, dropping one foot from the chair she’d had it propped up on.

The senior officer leered at both of them. “We’re sorting out how next to proceed. We’ll have an infil/exfil plan and a target for you, as well as the device to install the trojan horse. Until then, clock out. And don’t kill each other.” Lieutenant Seo scanned them both with severe distaste before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.

Behind her, Seungmin could be heard shuffling around the kitchenette, humming softly to himself.

Ignoring the memory of the version of herself that would have jumped up to join him, lingering near his elbow and trying as hard as she could to get in his way, Maven dropped her forehead back into her hand and went back to reading the eBook displayed on her phone. She’d been in that position for twenty minutes when Seungmin had finished his workout and joined her in the breakroom.

The only reason she hadn’t disappeared into her bedroom with her new free time to read by herself was the cave-like aspect of their rooms. Depressing, claustrophobic, no daylight, no signs of life other than her smarmy ex-fiancé—where Maven sat in the breakroom, she had a window on one side of her, letting in bright, Texas sunlight and a view of the occasional bird, and the door on the other side of her, where numerous VALOR agents passed through to grab coffee or their lunches.

A mug appeared by her hand, filled with something dark that smelled like her favorite tea.

Looking up sharply, Maven leaned back in her chair to create distance between herself and the suddenly-nearby Kim Seungmin. He bent over her table, his tall form lowered by his hand resting beside the mug, offering her a quick, charming smile. “Little bit of cream, little bit of sugar. I trust you still take it that way?”

Genuinely surprised that he’d paid enough attention to take note of that in the first place, much less remember it for over a year, she pushed the cup away. “I don’t take it at all if it comes from you.”

The bitterness seeping into her tone didn’t dissuade him in the slightest. Seungmin pushed the cup back. “Take it. I made myself a cup, so I made one for you. It doesn’t mean anything.” He was edging closer, as though the weight of his own ego caused him to sway forward.

Maven scooted her chair back for more distance. “Fine. Go away.”

With a burst of energy, he straightened and backed away with a brilliant smile. “Enjoy!” He called over his shoulder, striding back to the counter to collect his own mug before sitting back at his table across the room.

The tea was exactly how she liked it.

A L M O S T   S U M M E R

“Hello, Agent Spanaway,” It was Agent Lee Felix who swooped into the room where she’d been sitting for over an hour since Seungmin left, his blue lab coat flapping majestically behind him. He peered over her shoulder, not seeming to noticed the startled way that she leaned away from him. “Are you reading a mystery? I love mysteries.”

Maven closed the book, which prompted him to move away from her and pull the fridge door open. “It’s a thriller, technically. How have you been, Agent Lee?”

She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she was still unwashed since having been to the gym and hoped she didn’t smell.

The weapons tech, who was shorter than Maven remembered, pulled a bowl of soup from the fridge and tossed it into the microwave. “Oh, please, call me Felix. And I’ve been fine, thank you. How about yourself?”

As the microwave hummed along behind him, Felix pulled up a seat at her table.

When she hesitated to respond, hundreds of images of tormented and dying people flashing before her eyes, Felix leaned forward intuitively. “Not so good, huh? Would you like to talk about it?” The way his voice softened and his eyes bore into hers made him seem so sincere.

She smiled politely, wishing she could just let it all out. “I can’t, actually, it’s work-related.”

Felix nodded in understanding, and then peered into her then empty mug. “Can I get you more tea?”

Surprised, Maven raised her eyebrows at him. She curled her painted fingernails over the edge of her phone, warning bells ringing in her head. After Seungmin—after trusting him for years and changing her entire life for him, only to be abandoned as though abruptly forgotten—after that, trusting someone’s attention felt like a trap.

“No, I’m fine, but thank you.” She pulled her phone in close, like it could protect her.

In fact, he reminded her a little too much of Seungmin. Flighty, excitable, overly friendly. At least, that’s how Seungmin had been with her. Going through that again was the last thing she wanted.

She hoped Felix was just a generally flirty person. Maybe he just viewed it as casual banter. She wasn’t ready for another person of interest.

The microwave beeped.

Felix scraped his chair back and retrieved his soup, grabbing a spoon from the container on the counter. “Well, Agent Spanaway, I hope your work-related issue goes easy on you, and I look forward to our next inspection.”

[bunny-heels]

leetspeak information post

so if you're someone who's played old online games as a kid and would see the numbers 1337 somewhere, either in someones username or put in a random spot on the map, or would notice random numbers in the middle of peoples names replacing letters- thats leetspeak! in fact, 1337 is the word leet written in leetspeak!

leetspeak is when you use different characters on a keyboard to replace letters in words so that they are harder to read for people who don't know it, and that way you can hide messages from people in plain sight.

history

it gained its popularity in the 80s when speaking to people around the world online started to grow in numbers. pretty much the only way to communicate with people online via computers and the network was using a BBS, Bulletin Board System, that was basically forums before they were called forums. right before IRC existed too! this language was commonly used by people who claimed themselves as hackers, or H4X0RS, and their knowledge of accessing hidden away files and system controls allowed them to be known as the "elite", giving them the title 31EE7 H4X0R. the most famous hacker at the time was Kevin Mitnick, who got arrested at one point in 95 by the FBI for computer hacking and wire fraud. if you're into 2000s gaming and his last name sounds familiar to you, thats because he's even referenced in Vampire: The Masquerade Bloodlines and is the name of the hacker Nosferatu in Hollywood!

should you even learn it?

yes!!! yes you should!!

leetspeak is a wonderful way to keep yourself and your thoughts hidden online from the general public, and especially from specific groups of people that you don't want finding you. as well, you can write a word in any way you want in leetspeak! you don't have to use the same replacing characters twice!

as an example, lets say you are making a post talking shit about na.zis, but youre scared that the trick of putting periods in between words isnt going to be enough to stop them from finding your post, since they can do the same thing.

easy solution! write it in leetspeak!

you could use n4z1, n@51, or even |\|/\-/_!. there's many different variations you can create when you really try to imagine it!

as well, leetspeak is an outdated way of communication, and most people have forgotten that it even exist, so its very likely that the people youre trying to talk shit about will be one of those people, and they'll never know how to find you! and even if they DID remember it existed, theyre probably too lazy to try and figure out the various combinations anyway, so youre always safe!

how to learn

learning leetspeak is especially easy to do when you practice it yourself. often the most common forms of leetspeak that is normalized is changing letters to numbers that look similar, such as E to 3, A to 4, G to 6, and so on so forth. there is also different levels of leetspeak that can be used to make the messages even harder to read for those inexperienced, so your secrets are extra safe.

here are some examples of words being turned into leetspeak at varying degrees of experience:

freckles -> f43ck135

spot -> $907

dictionary -> d1ct10n4ry

dog -> c|06

rabbit -> r48817

action -> @<7|0|\|

problems -> 9|~()9|_&|\/|$

the reason why the leetspeak versions of these words might be easy for you to understand right now is obviously because the actual words are right next to it. 8u7 1f 1 \/\/343 2 $7@47 7@|k1|\|6 |1k3 7h1$ ["but if i were to start talking like this"], then its very likely you won't be able to read it!

on the wiki page for leetspeak, there's a chart that list the most common combinations of replacements for letters that can be used

switching up how you do these various combinations can make you so hard to find that you'll basically disappear from people's searches entirely! making you safe from groups that are prone to harassment, bullying, and the like.

and, psst, for tumblr use especially, you could use this to spread awareness for a lot of topics that staff usually will delete entire posts and blogs over. staff won't know what to do when they suddenly can't find anymore more posts about 9/\|_3$71|\|3 to block.

leetspeak isn't that accessible for some people

leetspeak does not generally do well with people who have disabilities and the like that affects their ability to read, and is not a friendly language when it comes to screen readers.

sadly, tho, that is technically what you have to sacrifice if you want to use it to be hidden. some of your followers won't be able to read a post that you used leetspeak on to be able to avoid being detected, thus they miss out on whatever youre saying. and that can suck.

the best way to keep it as accessible as possible is learning the lower level form of leetspeak and using it in posts, such as only changing some of the letters in words to numbers, l1ke th1s, so that they can somewhat get a general idea as to what youre attempting to say.

there are some sites that do give the option to decode leetspeak, such as 1337.me and dcode.fr, however those sites rely on the old typical chart of leetspeak characters, so if you try to decode someone's unique way of hidden a message, it likely will come out not making sense.

for example, this is what the decoder thinks 9|~()9|_&|\/|$ spells. mind you that this is supposed to spell "problems".

this is how i would have to write it in order for the decoder to understand what i'm saying.

but if i try to put that same "fixed spelling" into the second decoder, it comes out as this

so, sadly, higher forms of leetspeak are not very friendly towards people who have difficulty reading, so if you want your post to be accessible for those individuals, then its best to either use the lower form of leetspeek, as 1n r3plac1ng as l1ttl3 l3tt3rs as p0ss1bl3 ["as in replacing as little letters as possible"], or to just u.s.e p.e.r.i.o.d.s so that the words get spelt out.

of course, if a person with a disability that affects their reading really wanted to, they could attempt to learn how to read it in their own way, such as learning what numbers replace which letters and what certain combinations of characters stand for. very much more power to them if they can, but that cant be easy. and i only wish the best for them.

also, the biggest and most obvious draw back- people who are not experienced or straight up do not speak english will have an impossibly difficult time reading it, some of them not even being able to use it for their own language depending on what it is. which, again, is why it's suggested to use the lower form of it or to just use periods in between words.

conclusion

if youre someone who is into the history of the old internet and has the time and ability to learn something new, PLEASE LEARN LEETSPEAK!!! it can be so so so so useful in the long run and i think it's a lovely way to communicate in secret, especially with how terrible internet secret and privacy has become in recent years, sometimes it can used as a last resort in order to make sure no one out there can be able to track and find you.

and its so much fun to figure out new ways to spell things! and the aesthetics of it can be very pretty!! and i just think its neat!!! please learn leetspeak!!!!!

here's some resources to help learn more about it:

Leet Speak Powerpoint Presentation (Live)

Leet Speak ABC

1337: Leetspeak

What Is Leetspeak: A Comprehensive Guide

1337 speak

[panickinganakin]

stepping stones to hell ch.4 (ronance fic)

hello! all previous chapters can be found here!

word count: 1,858

Robin cracked her fingers nervously. It didn’t matter how many years they had been at it, the feeling of anxious excitement always pooled in her stomach. They stood in the order they walked out in. Jeff, Lance, Robin and then Eddie. 

Jeff lifted up on his toes, waiting for Steve to give them the go in their ear pieces. Robin sucked in a breath as she heard him, “And, now.” 

Jeff bounced out of line with Lance following at his heels. The crowds screamed and hit Robin like a bag of bricks as she made her way out on the stage. She jogged over the drum set and took her seat. She was in absolute shock at the crowd. This was definitely the biggest show of their career so far. 

Eddie finally walked out and gave Robin a huge grin before sticking his tongue out. Robin knew it was time. She pulled her drumsticks from the pouch on the side of her set and puffed out a breath before bringing the first stick down. 

Her fingers buzzed as the drumsticks hit the tops of the instrument. Her, Jeff and Lance were about a minute into playing their intro when they shifted right into the opening song. Eddie stepped up to the microphone and the fans cheered before they started singing along with him.

These were a few hours that Robin lived for. She often wondered what life would be like had she not chosen to learn to play. She couldn’t imagine it really. There was nothing like performing in a huge ass room with thousands of people shouting the lyrics to your song back to you. 

As the second song came to end Gareth rushed up to Robin with a bottle of water. Eddie always stopped to talk for a moment between the second and third song. “Thanks,” she said before drinking as much as she could before handing it back to him. He rushed away to get ready. The fourth song was the first with keys on the setlist so he would be coming out soon. 

“Man, this place is packed. Did you know this is the first time we have sold this place out?” Eddie said into the microphone. Robin hit the drum a few times as the crowd cheered. “I mean completely sold out. Five thousand of you fuckers wanted to be in a room together to see us? Fucking wild. Chicago is always the best,” he took a step back as the crowd started screaming again. 

Jeff started the intro to the third song and Robin fell back into her rhythm. She looked over to the left to see Gareth entering the stage, taking his spot behind his keyboard. 

Robin looked back out to the crowd, searching the barricade. Off to the right of Eddie she could see Nancy. She was bouncing slightly, singing along to the song. Robin chuckled and shook her head slightly. Nancy Wheeler. She had always been full of surprises, even when they were younger. 

Gareth started playing which gave everyone a few seconds to drink water. Steve held a bottle out to Robin who chugged quickly then they were back at it. 

It was easy to lose herself in the performance. Throughout the songs she kept looking at Nancy who never missed a beat. She seemed to know every single one of their songs. Knowing this made Robin’s chest feel fuzzy in an affectionate way. Was Nancy actually a fan of their music or did she just listen because they had been friends? It made Robin feel guilty for not keeping up with her or knowing about her magazine sooner. Robin had always been good at staying in her bubble and it made her wonder what else she had missed. 

As they came to the end of another of Robin’s favorites, it was time for the song Nancy had said was hers. Which was also Robin’s. It took her awhile to get to be able to play drums good enough to have a solo. This song was the funnest for her to play but also it reminded her how rewarding all of her hard work was. Hours and hours of practicing most days and into the night to try and learn to play so quickly had paid off. 

They were exactly one verse away from finishing the song when Eddie stepped away from the microphone. Jeff and Lance also stepped a few paces back and Robin assumed they were either drinking water or taking shots. 

She glanced out at the crowd and saw Nancy staring at her with wide eyes. Others around her were jumping around and cheering but Nancy was almost statuelike. Robin grinned, making eye contact with her. She pounded against the drums quickly, always amazed with what she was able to do and how much energy it took to even do it. 

As the solo wrapped up and Eddie stepped back to the stage to finish the song Robin was still looking at Nancy. She was still unmoving, staring at Robin. Robin dipped her head slightly, hoping to convey the message ‘Yeah, that’s right, Wheeler. I know you’re impressed with me.’

Robin stepped off the platform and jogged toward the back of the stage where Steve waited with water. The current song had a long soft intro so she wouldn’t start until the middle. She drank the water gratefully before sticking her arms out to stretch them. “You crushed it, as usual.”

Robin laughed and nodded, “You should have seen Nancy’s face. She looked like she was frozen.”

Steve peeked around the curtain as if he could see her, “I’m glad she stayed. She tells me all the time how she loves the music but hasn’t been able to make coming work with her schedule.” 

“I never realized you kept in touch with her, honestly. I feel bad. If I had known what she was out there doing I could have been supporting her.”

Steve shrugged slightly, pulling the water from her hands. “You know now. It’s never too late to make up for lost time.”

Robin nodded in agreement before hurrying back to her spot. She missed no time in falling back into playing. 

They were almost done with the show and she always felt bittersweet at this moment. She had never been more herself than when playing a show. It was the one time of day when her worries seemed to fall away. When she was up here she could be whoever she wanted to be. The thought made her hear Steve’s words in her head from earlier, “Just be yourself.”

Then Nancy had said the same thing, “Just be yourself!” 

This was her being herself, at least now she was. Regret clouded her as she remembered the internal debate in the interview. She had wanted to be herself. She had wanted to tell Nancy about her being gay. That way it could be out. She had wanted to come out so her fans knew whos he truly was and so those who were going through what she was would maybe feel a little less alone. This was as close as she came to being who she knew she was. But.. How free would she feel if she could just say it? It wouldn’t feel like she was walking around with a constant secret. 

She had been so scared but for what? The people who mattered supported her. They loved her. It was herself she was unsure of. And why was that? She had known since she was young she was gay. 

Robin tried to shake her thoughts away as they finished the second to last song. The band hurried off stage together to have a minute before they came back from the encore. “I’m gonna tell her,” Robin said to Eddie as they stood behind the curtain. 

“Tell who what?” He raised an eyebrow, looking around to only see Steve and other crew members. 

“Nancy!” Robin said over the cheering. “I’m gonna tell her I’m gay. I’m going to have her put it in the article.”

Steve approached them with a look of surprise but Robin could see in his eyes that he was proud. “We’re gonna be home for two days. Nancy lives outside of Chicago. Find her after the show. Ask for a second chance tomorrow. She can wait to write the article after that and send it to print.”

“If this is what you want we support you, always,” Jeff said as he laid his hand on her shoulder. 

“Always,” Lance agreed. 

They closed around, even Steve and Gareth, to hug her tightly. “Gross, gross. You’re all sweaty, get off.” Robin said in an attempt to keep her emotions even. She wiped her eyes knowing they had brimmed with tears. “You’re going to make me ruin my eyeliner.”

“Time, go,” Steve directed them. They rushed the stage together, having little time to get to their spots to start playing. 

As the song was about to finish Eddie paused before the final chorus, “Thank you guys so much for an incredible night. You all are so fucking beautiful. We could never thank you enough or explain how much it means to be this close to home with such a turn out. Selling out a venue this big is not something we ever imagined we would do. I just want you to know that sometimes shit gets hard. Never give up. Always follow your dreams and you might just play a show for five thousand people. Also, also,” Eddie held up a hand before motioning behind himself, “Make some noise for our wonderful crew. Without them we couldn’t have pulled this off.” The crowd cheered and Robin clapped as well.

“Lastly, since we are so close to home. I would also like to say thank you to our friends for coming tonight. Dustin, Lucas and Nancy, we appreciate you guys and love you.”

More screams and cheers happened before Eddie fell back into song. 

Backstage Steve and Gareth waited for them, holding towels and water. Robin took a towel from Gareth and rubbed her forehead, “Thanks.”

“You guys killed it! That was so awesome!” Nancy said as she exited through a door with a security guy behind her. 

She hugged Eddie then Robin. Robin hugged her back, almost shocked before Nancy stepped back. This is probably the best show I’ve been to.”

“We try hard,” Lance said.

“It was incredible. I’m so glad I got to see it from the floor. I can’t wait to talk about your performance in the magazine.”

The guys started to shuffle around Nancy and Robin, heading back toward their locker rooms. “About the article,” Robin started. Nancy looked at her curiously but she continued, “I need to go over some things again. It might take awhile, are you busy tomorrow? We are home for two days.”

Nancy nodded quickly, “Yes of course! We can meet at Petey’s at one?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then?” 

“Okay!” 

“Great! I'm gonna go shower,” Robin laughed and waved at Nancy. She turned back to call out, “Thanks for coming!”

[cepetriwrites]

The Unexpected Second Life of Bree Tanner - Chapter 12

Read on AO3

Bree POV

The Cullens immediately vetoed the idea of me roadtripping to Nevada to visit my mother’s grave, after I had calmed down from my… not crying, I understood. I was still upset, but truth be told I wasn’t ready to trust myself around humans yet. Truthfully, if I had known Bella could stop me, I don’t think my gratitude would have kept me from killing her. And I didn’t feel a life debt to the rest of the humans. The Cullens didn’t eat people because it was wrong to kill other humans, it made them feel guilty. I don’t know how they managed to feel that way. Sometimes I would feel bad, hearing their screams, but I was so hungry all the time, nothing else mattered but trying to soothe the burning. I don’t even know if I actually liked the taste of blood, or if I liked how it soothed the pain.

A couple days had passed, when the kids were in school I spent most of my time trying to remember my mom. It’s like I had been drunk my whole life, everything felt hazy, Rosalie explained to me after I had a panic attack – at least I think it was, hard to tell when you don’t need to breathe – that if I focused on my memories, they would become clear again, and never fade. So that’s what I had been doing nearly every moment. Shifting through my memories, trying to remember everything, hoping it would help me piece together my mom.

Unfortunately there were a lot of bad memories too, sometimes I had to take breaks and I’d paint with Esme, or watch tv with Emmett, play a family board game. I wondered if it was worth all the pain it took, but my whole life I thought my mom had abandoned me, that my abusive father was the one who loved me, because at least he stayed. Eventually I figured I was just unlovable. But I had been wrong. My mom had cared about me. I had dug up a near-forgotten memories of pancakes in the morning, that we made together. I wanted to remember everything, because if I was wrong about my mom, maybe one day I would look back and realized other people had cared about me too. Despite what my dad used to say.

It did cause migraines, so I had decided to take a break and use the Cullen’s computer. I hadn’t gotten to use one much when I was human, of course the Cullens could afford the best. They kept reassuring me they could afford to fix anything I broke, that everyone had broken a lot of expensive stuff, but the idea of breaking this high tech computer with its Windows 95 system terrified me. I couldn’t bring myself to type on the keyboard so I would use a pencil when no one was looking. It made typing a lot slower.

“You don’t need to do that,” Rosalie said from the hallway, I dropped my pencil and nearly fell out of my chair. How does a vampire sneak up on another vampire?!

“I just… don’t want to break anything.”

Rosalie gave me a smile, “If it makes you feel better, what are you looking up?”

“Um,” I looked at the loading page for cinnamon sticks, I was in to deep to explain that. “just… learning how to use it.”

“Cool, do you want to go for a ride? I’ve upgraded the suspension on my baby and it rides like a dream, no humans.”

“Sure!” Driving in Rosalie’s car sounded fun, an opportunity Human Bree never would’ve gotten. Rose was the mechanic of the family, I had watched her do an oil change once, it felt weird seeing a supermodel covered in oil, but somehow she pulled it off.

Driving with the windows down, and the wind in our hair, I felt like a normal girl, I had bothered to ask how long we’d be out, it’s not like we had a curfew. She kept driving her convertible until we had to stop for gas. “Are we going back now?” I asked as she turned on to the road.

“Nope.” She said, putting her sunglasses back on.

I started to feel nervous, “Where are we going?”

“Nevada.”

“What!” I shouted, “Rosalie I can’t go to Nevada! Dr Carlisle and Esme said no!” I looked at her phone it had buzzed multiple times, when I had asked Rosalie said Emmett was messaging her and she’d answer later, then she had turned it off. “Rose… has Emmett been messaging you?”

“A couple times, but eventually the rest of the family figured out what was going on.”

I nervously gripped my seat belt, “We’re going to get in trouble! They found out! There’s a psychic in the family, why did you try to get away with this?”

“Try? I did, we’re too far away for them to get to us unless they get a flight, and even then, we’ll still reach our destination.”

“How did you even pull this off?”

“Because I’m smart and know things. Like that Alice sees everything, but can’t pay attention to everything, she’s only paying attention to if you cause trouble. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s also hyperfocused on throwing the best wedding and graduation party, and trying to see if the florist will get a cold, which means she’s slacking on watching you. I know that Edward can’t read your mind, and he’s too busy trying to spend every second with his precious girlfriend, and making sure her grades don’t drop because he’s trying to get her to start at one of the many colleges she’s applied too, and the ones he secretly applied to on her behalf. I knew that when Carlisle went to work, & Esme got roped into doing shopping with Alice in Seattle, that Jasper would be kept busy by Emmett and not even think about asking where we’re going. And I knew that I could drive for hours without Alice being the wiser as long as I didn’t think about where I was going.”

Never cross Rosalie Cullen, “What about us? We can’t go in the Sun and I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“That’s why I have the gloves and hats, you’re going to stay in the car. Besides you just ate and I can the news about your mom is making you much more empathetic, you’re not going to go hunting for anyone right now.”

“You were fearless as a human, weren’t you?” Rosalie replied by flashing her dazzlingly white teeth at me.

I didn’t know if Rosalie was right, but she sounded so confident, it was impossible to not believe her, so I turned up the radio and decided to enjoy the ride. Super massive black hole came blaring through, the wind was in my hair, I felt normal.

Almost twenty hours later we arrived at my hometown: Las Vegas, Nevada. The Sun was blazing in the sky, so Rosalie pulled over to a motel, she explained she had booked it in advance, and we hid out in a room with the curtains drawn tight. “This feels so risky,” I said as I relaxed on the spring mattress while Rosalie idly flipped through the tv channels.

Rosalie snorted, “You should ask Alice about her little ‘day trip’ to Italy, sometime. We’re the well-behaved ones of the family compared to her and Edward.”

“Really? But I’m the one who’s always thinking about eating people.”

Rosalie gave a sympathetic look, “Jasper has you beat still, we’ve had to move four times because of him, we try not to mention it. He always spirals into a depression after a slip up.”

The Cullens seemed so perfect to me, it was reassuring to hear they disowned their parents and sometimes accidentally ate a person. It made it easier for me to believe I could belong with them. “Hey Rose, if you brought me with spontaneously, how did you book the motel in advance?" I asked after a bit of silence.

“Oh, I had been planning to come down here, bringing you along was a last minute opportunity.” She didn’t have to explain why she would make a random trip out to the too sunny Las Vegas, I knew she was trying to help me learn more about my mom.

We laid there in comfortable silence for a few more hours, until Rosalie went to front office to attend to “some business”. When she returned, she had a white USPS box in her hands. I sat up, “What is that?”

Rosalie handed the box to me, “It’s um,” this was strange, I had never seen Rosalie nervous before. “It’s your mom.” My mouth hung open, “It’s why I came to Nevada. She didn’t have any next of kin left to claim her, so I had Emmett fake some paperwork and ship the remains to our motel.”

“Remains?”

“She was cremated,” Rosalie explained, “I hope that’s okay. This way you can always bring her with you.”

I slowly pulled out the plastic bag in the box. It was filled with gray dust, ashes, that used to be my mom. “HUMAN REMAINS” was stamped in bold letters, along with her name: Erica Tanner. I stared at the package for a long time, trying to understand how one person could end up being a few pounds of ashes. I ran my thumb over her name. “Hi Mommy.” If I could’ve cried a second time, I would’ve. Rosalie wrapped me in a hug until the sun went down.

The whole drive back, I kept my mother hugged tight to my chest. I was never going to let her go again.

[90frogsinatrenchcoat]

✴ 🎀 ~~~𝑀𝒶𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒶~~~ 🎀 ✴

'Magnolia:'

She wrote,

'An Open Love Letter to the Most Astounding, Deeply Astonishing, Brilliantly Philocalistic Woman I've Ever Known'

She paused, holding her hands painfully close to the keyboard of her laptop. She had only known her for 4 years. This seemed far from appropriate.. there was no occasion to prompt such a thing, nothing had happened in their lives to stir such emotion in her, and yet.. she found herself in quiescent serendipity as she typed this letter of adoration for a girl several months from her own age.

'There are 8 types of love. Historically, you are meant to learn these with several people, throughout your entire life. Yet, I find myself, so hopelessly enamored with you in a blazingly desperate platonic love in all its facets.

The first of the 8 loves, Philia, is Affectionate love; catalyzed by a bonding of the mind, reciprocated through deep conversation and support during hard times. You taught me this when my Parents divorced. When I needed a mother, you held me. When I cried over what I was losing, you held my hand. When no one would listen, you found me, and you looked me in the eye, and you told me that I was valid.

The second, is Pragma, Enduring Love; Enduring love, whose catalyst lies in the subconscious. Shown by creating long-lasting relationships with genuine effort. You stoked the small fire that was my heart till it was a burning blue flame and tended to it with everything you could spare.

The third love, Storge, Familiar Love; is Most often felt between a mother and child or childhood friends. I've only known you for 4 years- but those 4 years have been more constructive, and more familiar than any of my childhood ever was. I can recognize your voice, your hair, your eyes, your figure, all in mere seconds; your voice lights up my day and brings my rushing mess of a brain to a screeching halt.

The most important of the love you have taught me, however, is Philautia: Self Love. Through everything I have been through, through everything we have been through, you have taught me to be comfortable with my authentic self. Through years of pain and hardships, losses and pain, you have stayed so wonderfully true to who you are. And yet, you contribute that to me. And that is an honor I would never dream of accepting.

You say that I showed you how to be loud, how to take up space, how to be yourself.. and yet, I found that above all things in our friendship, the thing I envy most about you is your confidence. Every day you dress to impress yourself, not others. Despite your hardships, you smile. You always wear the bravest, most joyous smile. And the mere thought of providing you with that smile makes my heart pound violently in my chest, my eyes water and I feel a pang of guilt, guilt that I might not be good enough. You live in a storybook- a novel, where you find your way through the world. And I find myself to be a side character, the comedic relief that provides everyone with a laugh. The sidekick with big ideas but no clue what they're doing. And yet, whenever I say such things out loud, you silence my fears with the most amazing hug I've ever felt. You wrap your arms around me and tell me to be quiet. You tell me it's okay. You tell me I am my own person, my own main character.. it's just not my chapter yet.

So to Magnolia, the girl who taught me to be a woman when I had nothing but a broken heart and fragile mind, I thank you. And I wonder, alone in my heart, sleeping softly in the warmth of my now calm mind, if you would ever know the impact you have on me. If you would ever know how deeply I envy you, how desperately I plead with the universe to allow me to even begin to be like you. Every soft pastel princess has a deep green goblin companion.. and if I would have the privilege to be your sage green fairy friend, I would be happy. To see you be so happy, to see you falling in love, to see you finding yourself.. and to think that, had I not sat behind you that day during our freshman science class.. to think- although the thought terrifies me- that we might have never met.. I would give myself for you to be allowed to keep being you.

My last words to you, Magnolia, are this:

Keep being you. Keep being the prettiest girl in the world, in your golden gowns and bright makeup. And on the days you need rest, I will await you in your castle, holding a warm blanket and your favorite book, more than content to just be included in your story. You will always be the Prettiest Girl I've Ever Known. Inside and out.

She took in a deep breath, pressed save, and closed her laptop. She would never publish this letter. She knew the words she had just written would never be heard by another living soul. And though that pained her, she knew it was not her choice. Magnolia was her own person. Which meant she was her own person. And the time for thanks had not yet reared its head. So she put her laptop in her bag, zipped it up, grabbed her purse, and set out to find herself, guided by a Magnolia compass.

[jolselin]

the thing about the main cast of moonlight chicken is that while the show is nominally centered around jim you could also make six different shows focused on each of the characters (so the hypothetical jim show would be even more about jim and a bit less about, for example, li ming) and they would all be great and interesting. i've just been thinking that if i had been given just one additional episode of mlc i would love to see a fuller picture of alan and wen's relationship and how wen fell out of love and then i thought i would watch a show told entirely through wen's perspective and with more of his background and then of course i thought i would even more gladly watch the alan show with both his backstory and the continuation of his storyline past the end of the original show (the alangaipa spinoff we deserve) and then i thought we saw even less of gaipa, in a way, so that would also deserve more spotlight, and finally there's so much to know about heart from the keyboard in his room to him learning sign language (we have to assume all by himself?) and to him finding community among deaf/hard of hearing people of pattaya and then of course to his university adventures in rochester. and as for li ming well one just has to check the tag to see that like half the audience either would rather watch the li ming show or treats the original as the li ming show.

so mlc could really be any of these shows but instead it's kind of like a little bit of everything with the focus on jim but not as much as if it were mainly a jim show. the trade-off is that you actually get so many wonderful characters and stories coming together in one show and isn't that great

[iloveabunchofgames]

#JakeReviewsItch

Arigatou, Ningen-san!

by Michelle Ma

Price (US): Name your own price

Included In: Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality

Genre: Visual Novel

Pitch: Walk through town finding and petting funny animals. A short, bilingual picture book.

My expectations: Looks super cute. I don't see a single written word in any of the screenshots, and its style is completely unlike any other visual novel I've reviewed so far. I'm feeling good about this.

Review:

If you have a very young child and an iPad, download Arigatou, Ningen-san! right away. It’s going to be a huge hit in your house. For those of us who aren’t churning through a stack of picture books every night, the appeal will be limited.

A bird named Tori-san (“tori” is Japanese for bird) lands on your house and explains that animals around town need love and attention, setting off a linear journey to find five animals across three screens.

A snake named Hebi-san (go ahead and guess the Japanese word for snake) is hiding behind a not-at-all-subtly rustling plant. The other four animals aren’t hiding at all, which feels like a missed opportunity.

Once an animal is found, it must be squashed and stretched, with animations that are guaranteed to send any toddler into paroxysms of giggles. And that’s all there is to it.

The two-finger controls are built for a touchscreen. On a PC, this is emulated by holding Ctrl while clicking. It works, but it’s inelegant. The writing is cute enough, but it’s not the star of the show. The music and sound effects are fitting, but again, they’re not spectacular. It’s all about funny, squishy animals.

+ Cuuuute. + Funny! + Perfect for tiny kids who are just starting to take an interest that flat, glowing thing you always have in your hand. + Maybe 5-10 minutes from start to finish.

– The animal-squishing scenes take a little too long for my liking. You squish and squish and squish, and at some point—I could never quite figure out the trigger—the animal says, "Cool, that's enough," and the scene ends. – Little variety. How about some more hide and seek? What if all the animals didn't have the exact same request? – Unintuitive mouse and keyboard controls. The game refers to two-finger touchscreen operations as "zoom and pinch"—wouldn't it make more sense to map these actions to the mouse wheel or the right mouse button? Take it easy on the toddlers. – All text is displayed in both English and Japanese at all times. I love that it's bilingual; I'm confused by the execution. As an English speaker who is trying to learn Japanese, it's too complex for me. Most text boxes contain multiple sentences, so I have a hard time comparing the two languages. A furigana option would be helpful, as early readers like myself will likely find the some of the kanji impenetrable. Since there's no recorded speech, I must assume everything's meant to be read by mommy or daddy. If said parent is already fluent in two languages—these specific languages—they're probably capable of translating the writing on their own, leaving me to wonder why all text is displayed in both English and Japanese at all times.

🧡🧡🧡🤍🤍 Bottom Line: Arigatou, Ningen-san is free, it's cute, and the picture book crowd will flip for its funny animal squishing. By the way, have to looked up "ningen" yet? That one will catch you off guard.

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