#to find the source of the problem so she can start to figure out how to fix it as her own way of dealing with this terror

[tomorrowusa]

It's the media, stupid!

No, I'm not talking about specifics of various news media outlets or nitpicking about particular stories or attitudes. The problem is the vast overall state of the media environment in the United States.

Kate Riga is on target with her blog entry at TMP. (emphasis added)

Democrats Just Can’t Compete In This Media Environment

[T]here’s one leading factor that Democrats absolutely need to respond to as quickly as possible to avert this kind of electoral disaster in the future: the media environment unequivocally favors Republicans. We don’t have a ton of data yet, and much of it is partial. But we can already tell that Harris performed best — that is, underperformed least — in the battleground states. In the places where her campaign flooded the airwaves with her messaging, put her on TV shows and radio stations and in local newspapers, scattered driveways with information flyers, positioned her beside local celebrities, she improved on the repudiation of Democrats that infected nearly every other state. In other words: In the states where she set up a temporary but pervasive media apparatus, she negated some of the nationwide drag. That speaks to the reality that most of the country is awash in right-wing propaganda all the time. For the olds, it’s Fox News and conservative radio; for the youths, it’s the right-wing manosphere podcasts and streams that Trump so assiduously courted all campaign long (plus soothing TikToks promoting retrograde gender roles, evangelical values and distrust of government regulation — think the trad wives and crunchy so-far-left-they’ve-looped-around-to-the-right content — aimed specifically at women). It helps explain Biden’s prodigious unpopularity, despite passing a ton of legislation that not only polls well, but has meaningfully improved people’s lives. It helps elucidate the consistent claims that people don’t know what Harris stood for, before and after she released her policy proposals. It’s a playing field that Republicans not only dominate; Democrats don’t even compete. They still depend heavily on traditional media sources that simply don’t operate the same way these right-wing PR arms do. And we know that these forms of media are powerful; they reach tons of people, and are seen as useful enough pawns that Russia has invested in some of them. This isn’t a novel observation. The Obama alums who started Pod Save America and the greater Crooked Media family did so after Trump won in 2016 specifically to try to build up a Fox News of the left. There are structural problems with mimicking this right-wing content beat-for-beat. The Pod Save guys, while open about their political allegiances, often criticize the party and its politicians. It would be much more difficult to recreate the fawning adoration of Donald Trump Fox News and those podcasts produce for, say, Joe Biden on the left. It requires creativity and investment, but I think Democrats and those aligned with them could do it. Voters say over and over that they prefer Democratic policies — even Republicans often vote for them when they’re standalone ballot initiatives. It’ll require a cultivation of talent, a saturation of these spaces, finagling how to wrest back the counter-cultural bad boy persona from those who are espousing a way of life most people consider retrograde, confining, divisive and exhausting, not to mention solely in service of the plutocratic elites that run the party. Obama was such a revelation because he hijacked technology in a way that was new and exciting for people, and it helped him micro-target low propensity voters. Trump has since taken that mantle. In the two and then four years ahead, Democrats have to find a way to get in people’s eyes and ears, to figure out how to make an affirmative case in these spaces that people would likely respond to if they were exposed to it.

It's not just Fox News – which is bad enough by itself. There are the rightwing talk radio stations dating back to the 1980s. They joined Christian fundamentalist stations which had been pushing social conservative positions since the 1930s. And now there are countless bro types who talk rightwing shit for hours at a time on their podcasts.

Apart from Obama's skillful use of social media when it was still new, Democrats have fallen behind with digital media. Most recently, Elon Musk bought Twitter simply to use it as a propaganda machine. Facebook and its sister sites like Instagram use algorithms which promote rightwing talking points.

There had been attempts to set up liberal talk radio. But they have been sporadic and met with mixed success. Al Franken set up a liberal radio network called Air America Radio in 2004. But it had only modest reach on mostly medium powered stations and ultimately filed for bankruptcy during the Great Recession.

We need to increase our news and information footprint in a major way and on multiple media platforms – and fast. Obviously that takes money and business talent. So if you find yourself next to Mark Cuban, Bill Gates, or Michael Bloomberg on a flight or in an elevator, have your pitch ready. If that doesn't happen, we need to start raising money on our own. Nobody said that freedom is free.

[tanniefm]

all mine | jjk (m)

summary - after a heated argument in the car, jungkook makes sure to set you straight in the only way he knows how.

pairing - jungkook x (f) reader

genre - smut/minor angst, established relationship

word count - 1.5k

song inspo - all mine by brent faiyaz (but also seven cause FUCKKKKKKK)

warnings - jealousy and misunderstandings, lowkey sexual harassment (not from jk ofc), explicit language (especially calling kook out his name 🫣), angry car sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex (yes yes bad we know), creampie, reader says sorry while she gets fucked and jk like doesn’t care 😭, they love each other a lot still

a/n - heard the explicit ver of seven and my jaw dropped and pussy started throbbing and this is the result of that :)

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

Jungkook is having the worst possible time right now. When he came home from the studio this evening, he fully expected to see you laid out on the couch watching some random show in those tiny little pajamas he likes. He’d forget all his stress and the minor headache he’s had for the past hour and squeeze, and kiss, and touch his pretty girl to his heart’s content. He did not account for the fact that you’d be slipping into a form-fitting dress and fussing over how long it would take to do your hair and makeup.

“Um…where are you going?” he asks with a raised brow. “To the company dinner I told you about, remember? I told you about it before you left.” Jungkook does not in fact remember. How could he when his dick was stuffed down your throat and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head? But that was earlier, and this is now.

“Oh. Should I like, change or..” he trails off. In all honesty, he really didn’t want to go, he knows if he said as much you’d be completely fine with him staying home, the problem is he doesn’t want you to go either. You look over at him and see his cute little pout. You had a feeling he'd act this way, he had a tendency to be needy for your presence. You always found it endearing though, he was like a clingy puppy at times.

“Yes baby, wear something nice please, it's business casual but you know I can't pass up an opportunity to get dolled up,” you wink. He sighs wistfully and goes into your shared closet to find an acceptable dress shirt. Since your dress is gray he felt it was only right to wear a gray shirt with a black blazer overtop and some freshly pressed black slacks. You always call him corny when he tries to coordinate his outfits with yours but he knows you secretly love it. All he can do is hope the dinner is short so he can end the night with both of you fucked out in bed.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

He really tried to have a good time, honestly. You seemed to be making it very hard for him, however (both literally and figuratively). He couldn’t seem to stop staring at how good you looked in your dress, the way his hands itched to caress your curves drove him insane. And not to mention how everytime you’d politely laugh at whatever your coworker was saying, your boobs would jiggle like they were purposely trying to taunt him. If Jungkook had his way, he would’ve taken you in the restaurant bathroom by now, but he promised before you two left to be good. But you just make it so, so hard for him.

“_____? Oh my god, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!” You turn to see the source of the familiar voice only to find an old friend from high school. “Chris? Holy shit I didn’t know you worked here! I’m good, it feels like we haven’t talked in forever,” you say cheerily. Jungkook slightly furrows his brow, Chris? You never mentioned a Chris before. As he watched the two of you catch up, he couldn’t help but notice the dark look in Chris’ eye. The way he seemed to look down at your breasts and ass more than he did your eyes. He knew exactly what that look meant, and he had no intention of watching him continue on with it. What especially irritated him was how naive you seemed to be to it. How could you not see that Chris wasn’t listening to a word you said? But the last straw was seeing him lean in for a hug and watching his hands slowly but surely make their way to your lower back, dangerously close to your ass.

“Ok that’s enough,” Jungkook said gruffly. He tugged you out of his arms and swiftly pulled you along out of the restaurant. “Jungkook what the fuck?” You were honestly surprised he was handling you like this, who the fuck does he think he is to be gripping on your arm like you’re some kind of bad child?

“Get in the car,” he says sternly. He must’ve lost his damn mind. “Excuse me?” Where was this coming from? Just a second ago he seemed fine, why is he acting so pissy all of a sudden? “What the fuck is your problem Jungkook? What are you so mad about?” you ask desperately. He says nothing as he opens the passenger’s door and waits for you to get in. You scoff and sit down, rolling your eyes while doing so. He always hated when you rolled your eyes at him, and frankly, it was pissing him off even more. But it’s ok. He knows how to get that little bratty attitude you had to go away.

He gets into his seat and takes a deep breath. “So. You and Chris seem close huh,” he says calmly. You raise a brow and look at him with utter confusion. “Uh no, not really. I haven’t talked to him since I graduated,” you reply. He gives a huff of laughter and shakes his head. “Then why exactly was he giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes baby?” Realistically he knows he’s being overdramatic. Chris was obviously being a creep and you just so happened to be the person he set his eyes on. But Jungkook’s been annoyed the whole night, and it seemed like this was the catalyst for his patience.

“How should I know? It’s not like I was purposely trying to seduce him!” you say exasperatedly. This is ridiculous! Does he think you wanted to make him jealous or something? For what? He was making zero sense right now, and all it was doing was making you angry.

You two went back and forth for what couldn’t be more than 10 minutes before saying something you knew you should’ve never said. “Fuck Jungkook, why are you being such a little bitch right now,” you exclaim, annoyed. His eyes widen slightly before his entire face hardens. You’ve never seen him look so serious. “Come here.” He leans his seat back slightly and looks at you expectantly. “Baby I-“ “I wasn’t asking,” he interrupts. You’re so fucked.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

“Fuu-uu-uuuck m’ sorry! M’ so sorry!” you cry out into the steadily rocking car. Jungkook grips your hips tight as he pulls you up and down on his fat dick. “Sorry? Oh, but I thought I was a bitch? What happened baby?” he grunts. This is exactly what he needed. He's been pent up ever since he got home and he needed to pound into this tight cunt to relieve all this pent-up stress he’s been feeling.

“N-no! Didn’t mean it I promise daddy, promise!” Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head. You’re so fucking close. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, angling his hips in just the right way to take you over the edge. His big, strong hands move down to your behind and grab each globe. He holds you still and pistons into you with an ever-growing speed.

“Don’t give this pussy to anyone else, do you hear me? he pants as he throws his head back in ecstasy. “Whose pussy is this?” he questions. “It’s yours, daddy! Yours yours yours, no one else’s!” you moan out. His moans start raising in pitch as he works his throbbing length in and out of you. Your wetness staining his dress pants and his seat. “Uhhhh fuckkk I’m almost there princess I’m right there hold on baby,” he babbles.

You bring your hands to the back of his neck to lift his head to yours, making sure those pretty doe eyes of his look directly into yours. “C'mon, daddy. Cum in your pussy,” you say seductively. His eyes shut tightly as he lets out a loud whine. His hips still and press into you as deep as your walls will allow him as he paints them white. Feeling his warmth overflow from inside of you triggers your orgasm right away, you tuck your head into his neck as you sob and shake.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you and kisses your head repeatedly as you both breathe heavily and try to bring yourselves down from the intense moment. He squeezes you into his arms as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have a strong hold on you. His kisses go down to your face where he peppers them all over your cheeks and lips, whispering how much he loves you and how good you were for him.

“I love you so much ____ please don’t ever leave me,” he whimpers into your mouth. You pull away and look at him incredulously. “Baby…why would I leave you?” you ask softly. “I just…I don't know. I guess I got a little insecure back at the restaurant. I know it's stupid but, for a second it really seemed like I was losing you.” he explains sadly. You frown and give him a long, heartfelt kiss. “Koo baby, I don't even think about anyone else when I have you. You're all I need.” He blushes and grants you his precious bunny smile.

“My big jealous baby, you know I love you.” ♡

[sdr2lovemail]

Saw your request open for reverse 1999! I not sure what characters you do but could you do smt like troop??idk what it call but basically 'someone ask them if you two are together despite havent establish relationships yet' for medicine pocket, dikke, and tooth fairy? What their reaction and response? If it too much you can cut it down sorry

Oblivious Encounters (GN Reader)

Synopsis: These lovely arcanists are in love and it's obvious to everyone but them.

Notes: I love oblivious pining, a wonderful trope. I'm still trying to get my footing with characters, but I will write for anyone, including NPCs! She/They pronouns are used for Medicine Pocket

Requests are open!

Medicine Pocket:

Parallel play. The act of being alone together. Some people find the best way to spend time with others is to do their own thing. 

Next to you, Medicine Pocket scribbles away in their notebook. Ever since the two of you had entered Vertin’s suitcase, her documenting has gotten way more intense. There wasn’t anyone here to dampen the experiments, so Medi was thriving.

You both sit at a table near the window, the setting sun providing just enough light. It had been a few hours since either of you had spoken, finding peace in the silence. Periodically, Med would slide their notebook over for you to read. They didn’t even want any comments on their work. She just wanted to ensure you were ready for the incoming info dump they would give you. What fun is telling someone about your experiments if they’re just going to be lost the whole time?

Amid the comfortable silence, breaking the serene atmosphere, was a shrill voice.

“No! The great Matilda is never wrong, and I will prove I am correct!” The bright-eyed girl was quick with her pace, making it over to the table in just a few strides. With one hand on the table, she leans in close. “How long has this courtship gone on?”

There’s an almost comedic pause.

“What?” Medicine Pocket cocked their head.

Matilda rests her hands on her hips, tilting her head with a sly smirk. “I know a relationship when I see one. But the question is how long it’s been going on.” 

It’s Medi’s turn to smirk as they respond before you can answer. “What amazing observational skills. Now tell me, just how did you figure us out?”

“Hmhmhm! Matilda always knows! And it was so obvious.” She laughed.

“Ohhh, was it now?” Medi smiled wide, those sharp teeth on display in a wolfish grin. As you are about to correct Matilda on your relationship, the scientist kicks you under the table, itching to see how this plays out.

“The note sharing, for one. You are so stingy when it comes to sharing. Those longing silences the two of you enjoy. The way you’re always together. There is no hiding it from me!” 

You can feel your face grow warmer. Was this romantic? Did people really think that you and Medicine Pocket are together? And was that actually a problem for you?

With a laugh, Medicine Pocket shrugged her shoulders. “Huh, I didn’t think we were that obvious. You figured us out, Matilda. We’ve been courting for a few months now. Obviously, I was the one to start it. They were too flustered even to look my way.” 

“Medicine Pocket!” You chastised, face flushing further.

“See, that’s my beloved, always so embarrassed.” Medi reached over the table to take your hand in her gloved ones.

“I knew it! Vertin owes me money!” The energetic girl ran off to find the others and her new source of cash.

Pulling your hand away from the smirking doctor, you let out a groan. “Why would you tell her that? She’s going to tell everyone.”

“I wanted to see what would happen. We are practically dating anyway.” They shrugged, acting way too nonchalant.

Dikke:

Dikke enjoyed gossip. Well, not just gossiping. She enjoyed listening to others talk about anything. Hearing people engage in idle chatter was an oddly calming pastime for her. However, she couldn’t say it was truthful when the talk of the suitcase was about her. 

“Wouldn’t you like to buy your love some diamonds? I have quite the assortment. Necklaces, rings, anything that is sure to charm your lady.” 

Oh, how that scammer’s voice irked Dikke. She was about to move, wanting to read somewhere quiet, but she heard another voice. One she held dearly.

“Oh, I’m sure the selection of diamonds is… lovely. But I don’t have anyone to give jewelry to.” You answered curiously, unsure of what she was talking about.

Tennant let out a chuckle, brushing her hand against your cheek. “There’s no need to be so coy. I know the judge has stolen your heart.” She knew Dikke was watching. She wanted to rile her up and get a reaction. It would be fun to watch someone so proper get a bit angry.

Dikke rises from her seat, walking over to you and Tennant with quick steps. Her face looks more than displeased. 

“Why hello there, judge. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Tennant smirked, knowing she got what she wanted.

Her gaze practically bore through the blond woman’s body. The grip on her sword unconsciously grows tighter. “Thou should watch what drivel leaves thine mouth.” 

“My, what harsh words. Calling your own relationship drivel.” Tennant runs a single finger down your arm with a borderline mocking frown. “I would never treat you that way, dear.”

It was quick. You barely saw when it happened. Dikke swiped the hand off you in an almost uncharacteristic act of jealousy. “Perhaps thou should mind thy own affairs.” Before there could even be a response, Dikke speaks once more. “Enough of this. Leave us.” 

Figuring there was no point in taunting her further, Tennant leaves. Not without dragging her hand along your back, wanting to give Dikke one last teasing parting gift.

“I’m so sorry about that, Dikke. You know how Tennant can be sometimes.” You apologized with a sheepish smile. While you felt like you were just seeing things, her cheeks seemed slightly pink.

With the pest out of her hair, Dikke’s eyes soften slightly. “Thou shouldn’t let rumors fester. Lest they form into something more sinister.” She bows her head towards you and departs, not to finish her book but to find you a present better than diamonds.

Tooth Fairy:

“There has been an incline of cavities at the Foundation. Perhaps I’ve been handing out too many toffees.” Tooth Fairy sighed as she shuffled through her examination papers. The corners of her lips tugged down in a near-invisible frown.

Walking over to her side of the medical wing, you lean over her shoulder, taking a peek. “I doubt it’s your toffees. The kids probably aren’t brushing as often as they say. I know they lie to me about where they get their scrapes and bruises.” 

“Was that a poor attempt at making me feel better?” If it were anyone else, they probably would’ve been hurt by that comment. However, as the Foundation’s current nurse, you spend a lot of your days with the dentist. You’ve learned to discern when she’s playing around from her usual tone.

You let out a puff of a laugh, lightly shoving her shoulder. “Speaking of toffee, you wouldn’t happen to have any on you, would you?” There’s a soft smile on your face as you hold out your hand.

There was a faint sound of squeaking leather as Tooth Fairy reached into her pocket. “You’ll be the one with cavities if I continue to spoil you with candies.” She hands you a sweet despite her words. Her gloved hand lingers on yours for a second too long, dainty fingers caressing your wrist as she presses the toffee into your palm.

“But you never say no.” You smiled while unwrapping the candy. After popping it into your mouth, you start to walk out of the office. “I have to go meet with Madam Z about some paperwork. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The way Tooth Fairy watched you leave was downright pining. Her gaze locked on the doorframe. Her eyes soon lower, seeing a certain silver-haired young lady.

“Excuse me, is the nurse here?”

“Hello, Ms. Vertin. I’m sorry, they just stepped out. Is there anything I can help you with?” Tooth Fairy asked as the small child sat on one of the medical beds.

Young Vertin casts her eyes to the floor, bringing a hand up to her head. “I’ve got a terrible headache. I wanted to ask for one of their remedies.”

Tooth Fairy smiled. It was the third time Vertin came complaining about a headache this week. She knew she just wanted sweets, but she couldn’t help but humor her once again. “Well, I happen to know where they keep their medicine.”

The dentist kneeled at your desk, opening the drawer to grab from your stash of lollipops.

“Are the two of you married?” Vertin asked, her head titling curiously.

Nearly dropping the lollipop, Tooth Fairy’s eyes widen a bit. It was an innocent question, but it still made her falter. “What makes you ask that?” Quickly regaining her composure, she hands Vertin the candy.

“When I read stories, the parents in the books act the way you do. They always spend time together and give each other gifts.” Vertin explained.

Tooth Fairy sits at her desk, watching the girl unwrap her sweet. “I see. No, we are not married. We are simply work acquaintances, nothing more.” 

Vertin nods before speaking again. “You two should get married. I could be the flower girl.”

“I… will have to discuss that with them. For now, you should be getting to class.” Tooth Fairy turned back towards her papers, hoping to hide her slightly flushed cheeks.

[iridiss]

Mystreet AU where all of the Phoenix Drop High staff are the divine warriors. MCD!Aphmau is a reincarnation of the last Irene, and she restarted the world when the final battle against Shad was going poorly, and Mystreet was created instead, with MCD!Aphmau being reincarnated into Mystreet!Aphmau. The other Divine Warriors (including the first Irene), were recycled into this school with no powers and new lives, completely powerless to the universal change that Aphmau has made. So now they’re forced to adapt to this new world and blend in, whether they like it or not, effectively trapped in this school until they can figure out what the hell happened, and somehow undo it. They all have retained most or all of their memories from their previous life. This makes staff meetings incredibly awkward

Shad is the principal, he runs this school very begrudgingly. He hates his job, but hey, he was able to lead an army in Hell! How much harder can leading highschoolers be?

Irene is the school counselor. The only one. She still has no emotions. This makes her not very successful at her job, but hey, she tries. The students are theorizing that she and the principal are divorced, or exes in some way or another, because of the incredibly grudge-filled looks they keep giving each other. They are forced to work in vague proximity with one another, and no one is enjoying it. They have to maintain workplace diplomacy and after learning what kind of world Shad is trapped in now, he realizes that he can’t actually kill her unless he wants to be arrested and thrown in jail forever. Which would suck ass, because he’s pretty certain the source of their new predicament is somewhere in this school alongside them, and if he wants any luck at getting out, he’s going to have to play along.

Irene and Shad are at least able to remain thinly diplomatic with one another. Shad and Esmund, however—never in a million years will they be civil with one another. They have gotten in very confusing shouting matches in front of the kids before. And yet Esmund never gets fired, (…i don’t think Shad has figured out that he can do that yet…) so the kids start to spread rumors that Esmund is hooking up with or used to be hooking up with the principal. Esmund and Shad find out, and all of the students get in ungodly amounts of trouble for this.

Enki tried to reconnect with his old friend Shad at some point. It didn’t go well. He left his office as quickly as he came in at the first sight of his glare.

It becomes surprisingly easy (and very existential crisis-inducing) to finally be able to tell Aphmau and Irene apart when they’re two entirely separate people standing in the same room. Shad realizes that this Aphmau is probably what caused this, but problem 1. She doesn’t remember a damn thing and is therefore extremely unhelpful, and problem 2. That’s A Child. That’s A Literal Actual Child. That’s some 13yo baby that is entirely innocent and bright-eyed and oblivious to anything and everything that went down in her past lives. And in my mind, Shad has a soft spot for children. Like, a HUGE soft spot, because he used to be a father and his daughter meant the world to him. He’d do anything to get her back and protect her from all the horrors that he could not save her from. Thats his entire villain motivation. Thats the entire reason why he hates Irene and becomes The Shadow Lord and raises an army and pillages the world and everything else. The Shad in my head would be physically incapable of hurting a child.

So I can see Shad calling Aphmau into his office very early in the first semester, ready to confront her and duel all over again…only to realize that, no, this is an separate, innocent child who remembers nothing and might even be an entirely different reincarnation of who she was before. Her memories might even be wiped, completely inaccessible and gone forever. He has an existential crisis, awkwardly apologizes and plays it off as some sort of joke, asks if she needs anything (putting back on his “I’m a normal human being” mask). She says she needs directions to her classes, so he scrounges up a random map and hands it to her and sends her off. He re-evaluates everything he’s known for the past 900 years.

Shad becoming strangely protective of 13yo Aphmau,,, this is just some kid,, he’s forced to re-evaluate everything and adjusts how he sees his students. From “oh good a new army I’m gonna have to mold from scratch /sarc” to “i…i have gone from zero children…to thousands…. thousands of children put under my care…i need to protect all of them at once” man goes mega mother hen mode, especially since his dangerous traitorous ex-wife is in the same building as them, he definitely sees her and the other divine warriors as threats to his kids.

Irene bringing Aphmau into her office as well, but she approaches things very differently from Shad. She cuts straight to the chase, and tells Aphmau she needs to remember. She’s done something terrible, and needs to reverse it and put the world back in order. She needs to remember her old life and become the newest Irene, take on all the power and the responsibility that being a Goddess entails, and set everything right. 13yo Aphmau freaks out, confused and lost. Irene lays the pressure on hard, and keeps pushing when Aphmau insists that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Shad opens the door, sensing she was here with her, and looks like he’s doing everything in his power to hold himself back from punching her square in the face. They have a very terse, carefully worded micro-argument, and Shad insists Aphmau must return to her classes, her education is more important than anything Irene has to stay to her. He gets very protective of her and basically professional-business-talk tells her to fuck right off and never speak to her again. Aphmau is still confused. He ushers her out, and awkwardly asks if she’s alright. She says…i…think…so???? What just happened??? Shad tells her to be careful around that woman, and don’t believe a word she says. She’s full of lies, anyway. Aphmau’s like. you mean the school counselor???????? It’s a very strange day for Aphmau.

insert the kids joking about how Garroth/travis/aaron/Aphmau must be related to certain members of the staff here

[weasleysbliss]

𝐇𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | Fred Weasley

pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader

summary: fred has always been a constant source of irritation, pranks, and rivalry. known for his charm and mischievous smile, he seems to take pleasure in getting under your skin. to you, he’s nothing but a red-headed pest, and yet, the tension between you both almost feels electric.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: angst, slight cursing

a/n: hihi this is my second hp writing piece but the first one i'm acc posting so this might not be the best but nonetheless, i still hope u enjoy reading <3

You’re deep in your slumber, until you suddenly feel an alarming sensation on your face, awakening you quickly and causing your head to dart up. It was water. Splashed all across your face. And there he was, the man who did it all, Fred Weasley. “Fred!” You shouted, while trying to wipe your face dry with your blanket.

“Why’re you bloody yelling? I just figured this is how I’d wake you up, since your alarm clearly can’t get the job done.” Said the red-head boy. “Gosh Fred.. I mean there’s so many ways to wake someone up but pouring water on their faces is vile! Thanks a lot.” You gave him a sarcastic smile as you pushed past him, making your way to the bathroom.

“No problem!” He yelled, knowing it would fuel your anger even more. Fred Weasley is your new roommate. Unfortunately, for the rest of the year he will be. You can't help but think to yourself how you can possibly get through another day having to deal with him.

• 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

After a rather irritating start to your day, you finally arrive to your first period class - potions. You greet and take a seat next to your best friend, Hermione Granger. Before you both even get the chance to converse, Professor Slughorn had immediately started lecturing.

As soon as he was finished teaching, Hermione finally asked the question she had been dying to ask you. "I was going to ask, how's your new roommate? Fred, is it?" She said as she looked over to Fred's desk, where he was sitting with his twin brother - George.

"Oh dear.. I don't want to talk about him. He's already being a pain in the ass." You said, in a disappointed tone. "Oh please Y/N, he can't be that bad." She argued. "You say that until he pours water on you to wake you up in the morning." You said, clearly showing your hatred towards the boy. Hermione laughed at your response.

You heard a bunch of familiar laughs coming from the opposite corner of the room. Catching your attention, you look over to where you can hear the laughs and see Fred and George surrounded by the rest of their classmates. What they were laughing at is something you weren't able to tell, and didn't think of finding out because you were so confused. "What could possibly be so hilarious now.." You rolled your eyes.

"Oh gosh, how disgusting! Fred and George are messing around with the potions and are turning them into what looks like a bunch of gross frogs.." Said Hermione. You quickly turn your head back again and see that what Hermione said was true. You nearly gagged at the sight. "Where's Professor Slughorn? Jeez.. the second you need him he leaves the room without any heads up." She said, irritated.

At this point, you weren't even listening to what Hermione was saying. Your eyes were glued to the sight of Fred and George's wands' flicking to convert potions into slimy frogs. You turn back to your desk, nodding your head in disgust. You were finished creating your potion, until you heard someone yell your name.

"Hey Y/N! Want to see what I can do with your potion?!" Fred shouted from across the room. Suddenly, all eyes were on you now. You already knew what he was going to do with your potion, and you weren't in the mood for his stupid jokes now. "Fred Gideon Weasley, if you-" Before you could finish your sentence, he strikes his wand at your potion, and it turns into a sluggish frog.

This potion that you made before it was fucked with, consisted of a recipe that took you ages to perfect. And now that today was the day you were finally able to achieve so, it had to be ruined by none other than your roommate and now rival - Fred.

Fred's prank caused everyone, including himself, to burst out into laughter. You could feel your face getting hot, you didn't know if you should feel embarrassed, cry, leave the classroom, or yell at him. You were far too exhausted to even let your rage out at him anymore, since it was still quite early. As a result, you stormed out of the room. But before you did, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and knocked over his potion - breaking the glass and spilling the concoction all over the ground.

Everyone, as well as Hermione, gasped. Fred's mouth hung open, but he wasn't able to get a single world out. You gave him a nasty look and left the class. While running to the common room, you see Professor Slughorn returning to class, not noticing that you had stormed out. Although you weren't able to see what was going on inside the classroom, you assumed he saw the mess you and the twins had created (although it was mainly Fred).

"Bloody hell! I leave for 5 minutes and you guys destroy the classroom!" You could hear Slughorn's yell. Loud enough for you to hear.

• 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Your leaving your last period class, Divination, and you just can’t wait to hop into your bed and take a nap. This idea was cut short as you heard the announcements turn on and say, “Y/N L/N and Fred Gideon Weasley please report to the main office.” Oh gosh. You really hoped this wasn’t regarding what happened in the potions classroom.

As you step into the office, you see Professor McGonagall and Slughorn standing next to each other, relieved that you came but still disappointed in your actions. Sitting across from the two professors, you see Fred with this head facing down. McGonagall signals for you to take a seat beside him, and you do.

"It has come to my attention that you two were responsible for the monstrosity that occurred in Slughorn's potions class." McGonagall spoke. You and Fred didn't say anything, you didn't know what to. You both looked up to her as she spoke. "This is unacceptable! You're both damaging the school's equipment. Not to mention, coming from two very bright students, I must say, this greatly disappoints me." She said, Slughorn eyeing you and Fred while she spoke.

You whispered a soft "I'm sorry" to both professors, with Fred doing the same. "I'll let you both off this time. Do NOT let this happen again, as there will be consequences." McGonagall emphasized. She gave you and Fred the cue to leave, so you both walked out of the office.

"Alright, now that that's out of the way.. I can finally relax." You thought in your head. "Y/N." You heard a familiar voice call your name. You looked back and saw that it was the same guy you walked out of the office with - Fred. You both walked over towards each other, and you waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry that I've been messing around with you lately.. I can tell you're pretty annoyed with me." He chuckled. You let out a small laugh in response before saying, "It's fine Fred, honestly. I was looking forward to becoming friends with you but, you being a dickhead really doesn't help." Fred laughed at the word 'dickhead', but knew you were being serious when you called him that.

"Well I'll stop being a 'dickhead' from now on, so let's at least try to get along. I mean, we are roommates for an entire year. Might as well." He said. By this point, you've both made up on good terms and return to your rooms.

Nearly a month goes by, and you and Fred have surprisingly been getting along really well. He's refrained from pulling any dumb pranks on you, choosing instead to be sweet and gentle with you. You two have even shown subtle signs of flirting, like you playing with his hair, playfully hitting his arm, and occasionally laying your head on his shoulder.

At times, you would consider your feelings towards him. You didn't have a full-blown crush on him, but his features and personality were starting to draw you in. From his perfect smile to his luscious locks of orange hair and his tall, well-built figure, you were definitely attracted to him in a way. A way you couldn't particularly explain.

Aside from your feelings for Fred, something else exciting was on the horizon - the Yule Ball. You hoped Fred would ask you by now, considering the ball was a week away, but he didn't. However, you didn't mind, thinking he needed more time before asking you.

On one particular night, You and Fred decided to watch a movie in your room. It was some boring true crime film that didn't really interest you both, so you let it play in the background while you and Fred fell asleep. The way in which you guys slept on this very night is one you'll never forget, because the tension almost felt electric.

You laid on his chest, hugging his side, while one of his hands was around your waist and the other playing with your soft hair. Fred fell asleep within seconds, but you were struggling to. Your heart was constantly beating, and this was the closest you've ever been and felt with him. You never wanted to let go of him.

The day after, you were about to leave your 3rd period class - Charms. Before you could step out, you notice Fred in the corner of your eye, across the hall. His presence made you smile, and you felt butterflies in your stomach seeing him, knowing the amazing experience that occurred last night. Your smile slowly fades as you see him talking to Angelina Johnson.

You peek through the door, trying to eavesdrop and find out what they're talking about. You knew this was wrong and a bit creepy, but seeing him talking and laughing with another girl after you had cuddled up with him all night felt strange. You finally find a position where you can hear they're conversation.

"Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?" He asked, in which Angelina agreed and said yes. Your heart ached hearing this, feeling like you had been stabbed right in the chest. You stopped breathing for a good few seconds, trying to process what you just heard. Did last night mean nothing to him? Did he not like me? Am I not good enough for him?

There were too many thoughts in your head at the moment, all being negative. You felt your eyes water, tears forming and eventually escaping. You see Angelina leave, and you quickly wipe away your tears before finally leaving the classroom, trying your best to walk as fast as you can back to your room without Fred noticing.

Unfortunately for you, he did notice you. Your red puffy eyes and unusual walking speed caught his attention, and he knew something was wrong. He was calling your name while following you back to your room, but you pretended as if you didn't hear him. As soon as you both get in the room, he yells your name, clearly frustrated, and forcefully turns you so you're facing him.

Your whole look was clear to him now, the smudged mascara, the red eyes, and your tear-stained cheeks. "Y/N! I've been calling your name for like the past 2 minutes and you've clearly ignored me, why are you avoiding me?!" He shouted, making you flinch a little. You felt weak, weak enough to be unable to speak. Your voice was quiet, but you managed to say "B-because Fred.. I've made it so obvious that I like you and I was stupid enough to think that you feel the same but you chose another girl over me! Was I not enough? What did I do wrong?!" You yelled. You looked and felt miserable at this point.

Fred was surprised that you had seen him ask Angelina to the ball, but he was also shocked that you voiced your feelings for him. "Y/N.. I-I'm so sorry. I just didn't know you'd think of me in such a way, considering how I used to treat you when we first met." Fred said. "Fred, that was easy for me to get past. I mean look at you, your handsome, humorous, and you really are a kind soul deep down. Any girl would want you, and would be lucky to have you. I'm so stupid for thinking I was the only option." You said, with your head facing down, unable to make eye contact with him.

You still felt tears slowly streaming down your face. Fred gently grabbed your face so you could look up at him, and wiped your tears with his thumb. "Honestly, I really do like you Y/N. I have for a while. I wasn't sure how you'd react if I went with someone else.. I guess I didn't think you'd care. Again, I'm really sorry, I should've taken your hints. I'm so sorry." He said, with a guilty and sorrowful look on his face.

He genuinely felt bad, and wished he could've went back in time to express his feelings towards you sooner. You didn't give him a response, but instead stopped crying while still trying to catch your breath. He put his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes. Gosh, his eyes were so gorgeous. You hated him seeing you so distraught.

"Y/N, forgive me. Please, I can't afford to lose you." He said. You finally respond, "Freddie, of course I forgive you." He softly smiled at your answer, and pulled you into a tight hug. His arms snaked around your waist, and yours around his neck. He slowly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before saying, "You're so beautiful, did y'know that? Even when you're a mess." You smiled.

You could feel his face inching closer to yours, and you couldn't help but stare at his gorgeous face. Every feature of his was striking to you, his lips, eyes, everything. You admire his face for a solid 10 seconds before you feel his lips go on yours. Finally, you had always dreamed of this moment - kissing him.

The kiss was passionate, your lips both moved in sync and everything about it felt amazing. One of your hands moved to his jawline, and the other tangled in his beautiful hair. His hands were exploring your entire upper body, but decided to settle on your neck and waist, inching closer to your breasts.

The kiss nearly lasted half a minute, before you both pulled away, catching your breaths. His hands moved, cupping your face. "I love you so much Y/N." He spoke, still slightly out of breath. "I love you more Freddie." You said, smiling at him. "It's like our hearts were hexed." He said, as you both laughed. He picked you up off your feet, and you both got back to your steamy make-out session.

[palskippah]

Hmmmm

Preg!Mario but hes in his cat or tanooki suit >:3

Hi!

Anon you're the smartest of the anons ever and also thanks for giving me an excuse to feel less embarrassed of posting preg cat Mario here ajskdjak

Here's some ideas regarding the cat suit when Mario's preggy bc about the tanuki suit I've got like one:

-When Mario's with the cat suit, his body becomes cat-like (surprise :0 omg) and that means he's much more flexible, so he really likes to use the suit when he feels overwhelmed at how much he can't do now that his pregnancy's so advanced. When he's a cat he can stretch like he wants, his belly doesn't feel as cumbersome and he can even loaf for a lil' while (until it becomes uncomfortable, and he has to change positions).

>It's for those reasons that, let's say that at the last weeks of pregnancy, Mario sleeps at night with the suit on. He sleeps soundly and wakes up feeling very rested, never mind whichever weird position he was in, he feels great.

>Now this is a problem for Peach's sleeping, because since Mario's able to pull weirder positions to sleep in, she often finds herself with a very pregnant cat just sleeping on top of her and snoring the loudest he ever has. The whole night. She doesn't say much about it, she's glad that Mario is resting and sleeping well, because before they figured out the Super Bell, he couldn't move much when sleeping, since any change in position could alter his comfort. He could be laying in his side, and if he tips a bit too forward his belly starts pulling at his back and makes it ache, but if he tips too backwards, the weight of the babies makes him feel short of breath- so basically he can't do anything without feeling discomfort.

>Before Mario was pregnant, he moved everywhere too when he slept at night, but Peach could easily hold him and pin him down and whenever he moved, she just hugged him and manhandled him to her own comfort, he always slept so deeply that he didn't really notice that he was being thrown around like a doll. BUT it's much harder when the small guy is pregnant with twins, it isn't just harder to move him since he's heavier, but also, she doesn't want to cause him discomfort nor jostle the babies too much. She doesn't want to move him around this time either, and yeah, she could just scoot away from Mario, but he always unconsciously looks around for her body to get closer. So, Peach stays right in the middle of the bed, it's much better being uncomfortable there, than at a little corner where she's still going to have Mario right over her.

-About tanuki Mario, the fact that they gain some weight when they have the Super Leaf was not pulled from my heart, the source is here SJDKSJ from Super Mario Broth's twitter. Also, I think it was the racoon power-up, but honestly I don't get the difference between that one and the tanuki one hwdwh

>So, he just feels a bit less agile with the tanuki suit on, so he doesn't use it as much unless necessary- prefers the cat suit the most :y

-One morning Peach finally snaps, and pretty much yells at Mario that she can't take it any longer and she's so sleepy. Mario jumped in place from her outburst but kept listening silently while she rambled about how Mario stays almost on top of her ALL night and he wouldn't let her fall asleep and it's been so many nights already and if she goes another night without sleeping, she'll go crazy- and when she's breathing to get her air back after all that, he says almost shyly, why don't you use a Super Bell too?

>And Peach pauses to look at him and then at the ceiling in such a deep disappointment directed to herself that Mario feels bad for having to resist the urge to laugh. Why didn't I think of that-? she asks herself, raising a hand as if ready to smack her own forehead, but then she redirects the hand and points a finger at Mario, You- I think the pregnancy brain is contagious, she mutters, with a crazed look in her eyes that completely comes from not getting her usual eight hours of sleep each night. And now Mario can't resist the giggle that left him.

>From then on, each night both sleep soundly, yippie!!

-Btw I love drawing sleeping characters with drool, it's like they're having a really good sleep aksdjsaj

-BTW look at the first drawing I made of tanuki Mario last night, to figure out how it was JSKSJD the silly

-ALSO, it was Peach who gave the solution initially askjdasd

[Mario's laying on his side partially while complaining about his back, Peach comes up with the solution of the Super Bell, and then there's Cat Mario deeply asleep in the same position as before aksjdsa]

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”

[adventuringblind]

Flowers in your throat

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: Angst

Summary: the problems of unrequited love

Warnings: hanahaki disease, blood, coughing

Notes: idk what this is... Does anybody wanna spam my inbox with things to write over break? Logan is on the list, but I'm blanking on ideas for the boy T_T

Masterlist

Flowers. Beautiful things that each have their own meanings. One that even color plays into.

Beautiful amd deadly things, these Flowers. She can't even stomache the sight of them anymore. Not when they are the source of her current misery.

A misery she has yet to understand. Is one not enough for her? Will Lando hate her for loving more then just him? Is she really that greedy?

Her driving had suffered because of her lack of focus. She's coughing over the radio now and her engineer has started to notice. Her trainer even more so with how sick she looks.

She doesn't want Lando to find her like this. Maybe she doesn't even like Oscar and this is because of the loving looks and gentle touch he's been sharing with her boyfriend. Is she jealous? In a way yes, but she wants that from both of them. She coughs up another petal at the thought.

Hopefully Lando isn't awake. She'd been on the floor of the Hilton bathroom for at least an hour now. Her mind running through all her options. How she might be able to fix this.

Death is the easiest option in the long run. The surgery would hurt Lando as she would struggle with any kind of love afterwards. Oscar loving her back is another, but again, how would Lando react?

She'd yet to even open up to him about the idea of polyamoury. To scared from past encounters and getting hurt. Easier just to ignore anything else. The words of her last partner rings through her ears. 'It's either one or the other' but never both. How can she have such a love for two people to the point it's killing her?

The door creaks open. She panics and tries to hide from Lando's worried gaze. He still ends up on the floor with her.

"Please talk to me."

"I can't. You're going to leave me."

"Whatever this is, we'll figure it out, okay? But we can't even begin to work on it if I have no idea what's going on." And he's right. For as chaotic as he is, Lando has always wanted to work through things together.

"I'm not - well - before I start I should say I love you dearly with every fiber of my being."

"Is this a break up?"

"No!" She shouts a little to loudly and quickly. Lando looks a bit startled but calms we he sees just how panicked she is. "I don't want us to break up - I just know that you won't want me anymore."

The thoughts of Lando leaving her flood her mind. Having to watch him and Oscar be teammates while she watches from afar. Her body wracks with coughs again as another petal comes up, pretty but splatters in red.

"Is that-?"

"Hanahaki, unrequited love."

"But I do love you so then..." He takes a moments to process. "It's not me is it?"

"My parents always told me my heart was to big." She inhales shakily. "It's Oscar."

"Since when? How long do we have before-" He doesn't finish the sentence.

"A have a few months left maximum. I'm already two months in."

"Silverstone."

"I'd already been fond of him before that but watching the two of you smile together like that." Tears slip past her eyes as she tries to stop the burning in her chest. "I'm so sorry and I understand if you leave. It's not like you signed up for this."

"I'm not leaving you. I don't care who else you love as long as I'm here with you. Plus, it's Oscar, I'd be lying if I said I don't have any feelings for him." Lando Admits with a shrug.

"Really?"

"I know you love me, too much, probably. If this is what loving you means then I'll be here every damn step."

She throws herself into Lando's arms, curling into the warmth of his body. And for the first time on two months, she cries in relief.

~~~~~

On the other side of things, Oscar isn't fairing any better. The constant scratch of his throat has started in August. Over the summer break when he had to bare witness to Lando and his girlfriends pictures.

He couldn't tell who he was more jealous of, or if he was jealous at all. Both, he was jealous of both because he wants to be with both of them. It's illogical, he thinks, that he should want two partners so desperately. They are committed to each other, why would they want him as well?

Lando is once again on the podium his female counterpart part there to congratulate him. Eyes shining as they smile at each other. The itch in his throat is to much. It burns in his chest as his lungs try to fight for air.

He runs back to the garage after getting weighed. Just in time to collapse onto the floor of his driver's room. Petals fall from his lips. Beautiful and soaking in red fluid.

He's still struggling to breathe when his door flys open. Logan amd Liam swim in his vision and ears. They drag him off the floor and get him upright again.

They clean him op and sit with him until Kim comes to get him for debrief. The older male looks horribly concerned. Lando also looks at him with something he can't pinpoint while sitting through the meeting. It's enough to make his chest burn again just knowing Lando is even looking at him.

Logan and Liam come knocking at his door that night. They want answers and rightfully so. He tells them, coughing on the bathroom floor while doing so.

"Have you talked to them?"

"No, why would they want me Lo?"

Liam hands him more water and pratically forces him to drink it. "Have you seen the way they look at you?"

And no, he hasn't, only how people say he himself looks helplessly in love.

How would they look at him now? In disgust? Maybe pity?

Shame he may never find out.

~~~~~

Another hard race. Las Vegas had messed them all up in some way shape or form. She couldn't breathe knowing Lando had crashed to hard. She coughed an entire petal up during the yellow flags just thinking about how he must be feeling.

She's been coughing up whole flowers recently. Tonight was no exception. Lando, despite being on heavy painkillers, was desperately trying to help her through a few larger ones.

She was barely eating anymore. Couldn't breathe. Her teammate had even noticed the drastic change in her appearance. Max and Christian had both been on her case. Third seemed so far away now as Lando tries to get water down her throat.

"I don't want you to die."

"And I don't want to live without love."

Lando manages to pull himself off the floor to answer the door. Mumbling about how it's probably Jon making sure he's alright.

She can hear the familiar voices of Oscar and Logan through the thin walls.

Oscar sounds rough. She blames it on the long race he had. He'd looked so tired coming out of the car, hands running through his hair.

Her lungs burn again. It's more so this time. Her entire body is on fire. She can't even cough properly and wails as she has to pull out whatever is in her throat.

A stem. One with thorns.

Lando is frantically pleading with Oscar and Logan for something. Oscar is also coughing. Enough that is worsens her own.

She coughs again. Another stem feels like it's tearing her open from the inside. She wails at the stinging pain. Panic overcomes her as it seems to never end.

The door swings open. Lando and Logan drag in a coughing Oscar.

He's in the same boat as her. He's been suffering this whole time.

"Logan who is it?! Please, I need to know." Lando is begging now. The sight of what's happening can't be helping his nerves.

"It's you two, both of you I think. He didn't say exactly."

She tunes out anything else. It's them. He is feeling this because of them. She coughs up the rest of the stem and the burning starts to fade.

But then the exhaustion hits. She wants to tell Oscar everything. Enough so he doesn't have to cough up thorns like herself.

She passes out before she can.

~~~~~

Oscar wakes up in bed. One that definitely isn't his own. He tries to sit up, but his body is depleted still. Noticeably, his lungs feel lighter then they have in months. The ache in his chest has lessened, but his love for the two is still there. If this isn't the work of a surgery then-

He sits up frantically, searching for something. Someone, more like. A hand on his shoulder pushes him back down.

"Relax, we're still here." It's Lando and his partner is on the other side of Oscar. She's dead asleep and rightfully so after what he witnessed her cough up.

"Where's Logan?"

"Asleep on the couch. He didn't want to leave you."

"And you - do you and her - are we?" His words are broken. He can't think properly.

"Caught feeling a while ago, mate. Her before I realized myself. She loves hard, enough to cough up flowers, apparently." Lando crawls into the space between Oscar and the female. Oscar, in his sleepy haze, latches onto Lando. He feels better being apart of whatever cuddle pile this is.

He falls back to sleep so easily. Only to be woken up later by a few frantic coughs. Lando is immediately trying to get the female out of bed and to the sink. She claims she's fine and it's confirmed by the lack of petals.

"It's from what the thorns did." Her voice sounds wrecked. Oscar tries to get up to help only to be pushed back again by Logan. Curse his exhaustion.

The American gets everyone water. Oscar is grateful for it as it soothes his still sore throat.

"So does this mean you three are going to be together then?" Logan raises an eyebrow.

"If either of them say no after this, I'm throwing hands. After the hell they've put me through I will force them to cuddle if need be."

[kopilot-pop]

hi, about the yunjin starbucks controversy.

i’m gonna try to be as fair as possible talking about this controversy, but i’ll be honest i’m leaning more on yunjin’s side. i’ve been getting several requests on yunjin and i feel like i need to get this off my chest every time i see her name on my page.

let’s start off with the facts: yunjin was caught drinking starbucks in Korea (in front of the company building.)

I thought she drank it on a post or somethrong but no, it was just a few pixels of a low quality picture fans took. And that’s my first minor problem; she wasn’t on live, it wasn’t a post, it was a few milliseconds of pixels. But I get the ‘performative activism’ controversy, it DOES feel like she’s hiding it.

However, my take is that she just got out from her car, and wanna know a little fun fact? Most snacks and drinks that all idols are seen eating are most likely bought by their managers. And it’s a fact that Koreans aren’t currently boycotting Starbucks as actively as western foreigners are. So my thought the first time I saw the picture was that. The manager probably just bought coffee from whatever shop was closest, and handed it to her.

But I do understand how that can feel like reaching so I did some more research .

The biggest thing I have to so called ‘defend’ Yunjin is that Starbucks Korea is completely separate from International Starbucks (source: ChosunBiz).

In 2021, 67.5% of Starbucks was comepletely bought by E-Mart (a branch of Shinsegae), and the rest 32.5% was bought by a Singaporean investment comapny (GIC).

So oh, Starbucks Korea has no affiliations with the part of Starbucks that sues their worker’s union.

However, I can make the argument that Yunjin could influence others to ignore the boycott and buy Starbucks. Is it true that she has several international fans and alot of impressionable fans? Yes.

But then we have to go back to our first argument; it was a few milliseconds of a low quality video.

And after finding that out, I started to feel like all the people commenting about “starbucks queen💕” and “omg whats your starbucks order?” is the problem.

YOU guys are the one promoting Starbucks at this point. Do you understand?

I’m not saying don’t hold someone accountable, no, but I’m saying the comments aren’t fucking helping.

Don’t get me wrong, I do live in Korea, and I have been actively avoiding purchasing from them because I saw a few posts on twitter referencing it. I based an activity on a twitter post. And wanna know when I figured out WHY I was supposed to boycott exactly?

After I deleted Twitter because of the stress I got from the app.

That’s when I finally found out about the BDS list, found out oh, Puma is on the list, McDonalds is an even bigger problem than Starbucks (directly supplying food to soldiers), HP APPARENTLY SUPPLIES TECH FOR THE ISRAEL GOVERNMENT, and oh wow! Starbucks isn’t even on the list because theres not enough proof that they financially fund Israel.

In conclusion, the people preaching about how Yunjin is a performative activist is such hypocrites themselves

It’s clear that while some of the comments and criticisms are genuine, trying to hold a person accountable, but its also clear that the repeat of the same mocking comments of Yunjin is just performative and for attention and likes.

That’s what pisses me off. People who don’t give a shit about Palestine, and people even if they do support Palestine not even doinng the bare minimum amount of research just having fun mocking (not criticizing) a person when a tiny bit of wrong doing is shown.

Please, go look in the mirror, and i dont like saying this but go touch grass, do your own research, dont base off your whole ideology on a reddit post or a twitter, tumblr post, read different variety of news articles from several companies, and THEN make your decision on a situation. Not only Starbucks, not only on Yunjin, but on several other ones too.

Media literacy. Look it up.

[1vy-ofthevall3y]

https://www.tumblr.com/1vy-ofthevall3y/744658924283805696/fuck-you-wont-understand-how-his-intelligence?source=share

This gives a idea! Can you do reader is telling their type like what kind of guy they like and reader is describing chishiya's personality (intelligent , hot lol) later chishiya realise it and started teasing the reader?? Thank you!

warning: fluff!. lower case. took place in the jack of heart game.

a/n: tbh, i feel i'm bad at writing a full one like this. but thanks for the idea and request

you and chishiya are casually wandering around the cafeteria of the prison, taking the biscuit he found that is better than every other one here. your sigh beside him caught his attention, glanced over at you for a moment then back at the pack of snacks in his hand.

"something's bothering you?"

thought you were feeling anxious over the game, it's been filled with manipulation since the second round. you have no idea who the jack is, yet, and chishiya's already had some suspicions in his mind. and your eyes were secretly on him all the time on this round.

"nothing... just some personal problems."

personal problems, huh?

"hm."

he hummed acknowledged, having an urge to know what's on your mind right now. it's not that he doesn't care about what people think, he's actually even curious about it sometimes, then at the end, he chose to ignore it, because it's not his problem, or something he's interested in. but this time, it's you, so why not take this moment as an advantage to know you more?

"...mind telling me?"

"what?" you look up at him.

"personal problems." he holds the snack by his side, stuck one of his hand into his pocket and turned to face you, stare back at your confused eyes.

"oh." you feel surprised when he asks you if you want to share it with him, which is kinda out of his character.

he rarely gets into small talks, you noticed. both you and kuina back when you're still at the beach, always gossip about everything that you guys found interesting and funny. chishiya's just listen, or mostly, ignore all the talks and think about the plan to get out of here with you and kuina.

oh, how you missed kuina and her humourous. you still remember when she asked you if you have any type of man you like, and it's still bothering you until now. you used to go on dates with guys before getting into the borderland, some of them may have your interest, but still, not able to reach your heart. clearly, they just not what you expect them to be your... actual type. until you meet him.

"i was thinking that i may have figured out what my type is." you shrugged, looking away.

"your type?" he tilted his head slightly, growing interest at this side of yours.

"type of man, yeah." you sighed, "it's just... i used to don't know what exactly my type is, it's been bothersome to me. it was just so confusing, i even tried to go on date with some guys, and no second date happens after then, all of that just to figure out what kind of man i'm into."

chishiya remains silent after you've done telling him your thoughts, makes you feel like you may be too talkative for him, or makes him feel uncomfortable. can't blame you cause you're used to having kuina by your side every time you talk.

as you were about to apologise, and asked him if it's a little too much for him to hear, he cut you right before you can.

"what's your type then?"

"...huh?" you're confused again, it's strange when he wants to know it.

"you said you may have figured it out, so there must be someone who caught your interest, or even have your heart, i suppose?" he almost chucked at your confused face, finding it quite adorable. you must be surprised when he suddenly even cares about your 'personal problem'.

'it's you.'

it's like he can read through your inner self. you can't tell him that it's him who you found you're attractive to. so you have to choose words carefully, to describe him without him realising.

"well. i guess it's about being confident, independent, calm, have perfect plans..., and hot...? uh... being intelligent and outsmarts everyone around him would be perfect for me..."

yeah fuck. too detailed. should've think thoroughly before saying it.

at this point, you already feel your cheeks starting to burn at your own words. did he know that you were just describing him?

"...i think i know this guy." he narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow, commenting on your 'type'.

oh! so he thought it was someone el-

"actually, i know that i know him pretty well." his voice sounds playful as his lips curled up, smirking at you.

oh.

you immediately understand what he means by that look as you widen your eyes, dumbfounded. he... realised.

"don't even think about it." you were just opened your mouth as he warned you before you could deny your feelings for him, which would be a huge lie if you do.

he looks at you up and down, then right at your face, that eyes of yours before it darted away from his, that little blush. it's all too familiar for him.

so it was right. his theory all along, about your feelings for him, was right. he takes your silence as an agreement to his conclusion, and starts to tease you.

"don't think that i didn't notice your stare on me, or how you avoid my eyes, and hide that little blush whenever i look at you a bit too long." he calmly stated, enjoying how shy you're looking right now, knowing he's the only one who could easily makes you like this.

widened your eyes as you turn to face him, not noticing when your lips parted slightly at his statement. all this time, you thought he was just caring about his plans and strategies for these games and being an emotionless, cold man, turned out you were just making yourself a fool.

"so you do know about my feelings all along!" you furrow at the realisation, can't believe you just exposed yourself like that.

"oh sweetheart, you're the one who's willing to tell me your feelings." he chucked.

this is when you immediately regret opening up yourself to him, you may feel relieved whenever you blur out what's bothering your mind at the moment with your close friends, like kuina, but now you hate yourself for that.

you groan and cross your arms, not looking at his 'winning' face anymore. but not for so long when you have to look back at him after his next unexpected words.

"you know, i don't feel annoyed when your type is me, in fact," he leaned closer to your ear until you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

"...i wanted it to be true."

he leans back and meets with your big, round eyes, looking straight into you with a smirk on his face, still being close to you. he makes sure to take in everything into his mind and never forget this moment.

you stare at him for a few more seconds before getting out of your flustered mind and rolling your eyes, slightly pressing your lips together.

"shut up." you muttered, pressed the palm of your hand on his lips and pushed his face far from your already like a tomato face, turned back and walked away from him with his laugh leaving behind before you could turn yourself into an actual idiot with his teases.

"hey, i think i know my type too! wanna hear it?" he shouted from behind and slowly followed your steps, not going to end this little joy, knowing that soon he will have to soothe you for his teases.

well, at least it's not a waste of time to listen to this, and the most important thing is that he knows that you have a crush on him, too.

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

[shuutingstar]

It’s FINALLY done. I’ve finished the sit-com/reality tv show/whatever. It’s only one chapter/a oneshot because it honestly took so long just to write and I procrastinated a bit, but there’s like 4 drafts of just different scenarios for this AU and I’m tired. Not sure if I’ll post this on ao3 or not, but whatever.

context (I guess??) to my suffering.

@doodlebugdpj I hope you like it and I’m terribly sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting! I understand if it’s garbage because it honestly is.

[camera pans on Will Solace’s face. He’s sitting on a love seat in a bland room and fidgeting with his hands]

Will: [blinks uncomfortably] uh, I’m not sure what I’m meant to—

[a piece of paper gets thrown at Will and he catches it effortlessly, he looks at the contents and sighs]

Will: [reading from the paper indifferently] welcome to the start of a spin-off series where we look into the lives of the demigods residing at Camp Half-Blood. There will be laughs, there will be hardship, but most of all there will be a rememberable and lovable cast of characters— do I have to read this?

Apollo [off-screen]: of course! How else am I meant to start off my career as the best movie director? You know, I’m still disappointed that I couldn’t be in the show, but maybe Hephaestus is just waiting to star me in something really popular! I know he would never brush off my experience and expertise!

Will: [sighs] fine, fine. —rememberable and lovable cast of characters who all face the mundane problems of Camp Half-Blood. Grab some popcorn and sit back because you are about to be sent to an entire different world.

[Apollo claps off-screen while Will puts his head in his hands]

Apollo: well done! Although I do think you need to be more expressive, but I suppose it’s usable. Now if I had done it I would’ve used more emotions to convey just how excited I was to show off my new show, but that might just be a me thing.

Will: [puts his hands on his lap] can I go yet? Nico said he wanted to play some video games today and I need enough brain power to mentally prepare myself for my inevitable defeat.

Apollo: [hums] I guess. All right, you may leave.

[Will stands up quickly and leaves the studio room/basement of the Big House without another word]

[The camera cuts to a shot of Alice Mizayawa and Julia Feingold, who are standing opposite each other]

Alice: so you know how Mr. D loves his coke?

Julia: [nods] yeah.

Alice: [giggles] so what if I told you I swapped it for diet?

Julia: [blinks] you… Alice!? Are you stupid?!

Alice: [scoffs] no? I am completely aware of the consequences! It’s called wanting to have fun, Juls.

Julia: [raises an eyebrow] are you sure you aren’t trying to impress Kayla?

Alice: [slaps a hand on Julia’s mouth] what?! No! Why would I?

[camera cuts to Julia Feingold sitting on the love seat]

Julia: [looks deadpan at camera] Alice has a crush on Kayla and before you say that it was rude of me to reveal that, I’ll have you know that everyone at camp knows except for Kayla.

[camera cuts back to the previous scene]

Julia: [sighs and gets rid of Alice’s hand] okay, okay. How are you supposed to know if Mr. D finds out?

Alice: [smirks] don’t worry, I’ll know.

[a beat of silence before a frustrated scream echoes through the camp, few campers look for its source]

Alice: there it is!

Julia: [face palms] you are so dead.

[camera cuts to Alice sitting on the loveseat, looking worse for wear yet smiling brightly]

Alice: I got put on dish washing duty for a month, but it was worth it! [she sits crisscrossed on the seat] Kayla said my prank was hilarious! Can you believe that? [her smile widens] I think I might explode.

[Dionysus sits at the love seat, looking beyond tired]

Mr. D: fuck you, Zeus.*

*Hephaestus TV would like to clarify that this is a figure of speech and Dionysus does not actually want to fuck Zeus.

[camera cuts to Cecil Markowitz, Lou Ellen and Will Solace sitting in a circle and playing a card game]

Lou: [places a card on the deck in the middle of the circle] UNO.

Will: [huffs] I swear if this is your third win—

Lou: oh please, you’re just mad you’re bad at a card game.

Cecil: [chuckles] even I’ve won at least once.

Will: [rolls his eyes] it’s a game of luck, Cecil. You don’t need much to win a game like this.

[in the background a cabin lights on fire and Percy Jackson can be seen controlling water from the lake to extinguish it]

Lou: [smirks] are you not lucky, Will?

Will: [deadpans] Tyche hates my guts.

Cecil: did you accidentally forget to heal Chiara or something?

Will: what? No! I take my job as head healer very seriously.

[the fire slowly dissipates, however the cabin is charred and badly damaged. Annabeth Chase walks over to Percy, the two discussing something too far to pick up on]

Lou: [shrugs] it’s your turn, dipshit.

Will: [looks at his cards, then places one on the deck ans grins] maybe Tyche doesn’t hate my guts.

Cecil: [groans] just great. [takes four cards from the opposite deck reluctantly]

Lou: what’s the colour?

Will: hmm, how ‘bout blue?

Lou: ugh! You son of a bicth!

[Will and Cecil laugh at Lou’s unfortunate situation all the while in the background the cabin has gone up in flames again, Percy and Annabeth staring for a single moment before trying to extinguish it again]

Will: [puts a card down] UNO!

Cecil: whaaaat?!

Lou: fuck you, sunshine boy.

Will: [grins smugly] I guess Tyche has finally blessed me. Suck it, losers!

Cecil: [frowns] you’re so cruel, William.

[the three friends laugh as the sun sets behind them. The cabin is no longer on fire and now Leo Valdez and Harley have joined Annabeth and Percy. They discuss something before Harley looks down dejectedly]

[the camera cuts to the bland room once more, Will Solace sitting in the love seat once again]

Will: for the record, I won that UNO game.

[a paper gets thrown at him and Will looks at its contents indifferently]

Will: [reading form the paper] that concludes the pilot episode for Apollo’s new TV show. He would like to thank himself for coming up with the idea and Hephaestus TV for sponsoring the production. Tune back in next Wednesday to catch the very first episode of the series. [looks at camera] how much longer is this gonna last, dad?

Apollo [off-screen]: dunno, I’ll have to check the views first. I’ll get back to you.

[the screen fades to black as Will stands up and leaves]

don’t ask my what kayla x alice is doing in here, I wanted a funny scene and kayla was the first person I thought of.

I hate this so much, but honestly I kind of just want to be done with this (for now). This most definitely branches out from my initial post because it’s hard to incorporate fight scenes when my vocabulary only consists of ‘explosions’ and ‘screams’ in that field. Also, I guess it would make sense if sometimes camp wasn’t in mortal danger and other times it was? So yeah. That’s what this is.

[liedownquisition]

Jason Todd's timeline and "Age"

So, there's a lot of discussion of Jason Todd's age esp as relative to other sidekick vigilantes, particularly Tim and Mia. I believe the exact words are usually something about a "grown ass man beating up/trying to kill teenagers."

DISCLAIMER: This particular post is specifically regarding the "grown ass man vs teenagers" statement, I have posts regarding the "tried to kill them" portion and other stuff like "seriously Jason Todd is like being shot by a marshmallow gun compared to what goes on directly before and after him in these incidents, also you don't bitch about the right stuff, also a lot of you prop up characters who are Objectively Worse, and no that's not hate on your fave it's just me calling out hypocrisy". It just takes time to find digital copies of the panels I'm using. NOTE I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HIS ACTIONS. I'm just saying y'all blow it out of proportion for petty character hate. Like, shit, they're superheroes. Jason's soooo fuckin' tame. He's not even framed as a big deal to the teens it's only the adults that think it's that much of a problem.

Courtesy readmore post cut:

Now, to start off, we all know Jason died at 15 & a few months off from 16 (if you want me to dig up panels, sure, but I figured at this point that wasn't in question). Tim at this point is somewhere between 12-13, and we have this panel in Lonely Place of Dying which takes place a few months later:

So that's a ballpark of 2-3 years between Jason and Tim.

But Tim's age is really fucky and they keep de-aging him tbh. We can extrapolate that his confrontation with Jason was between the ages of 16-17 bcs it's after the arc where he has his incredibly shitty 16th birthday in Robin Vol2 #116 and before Red Robin where he's stated to be 17. This would put Jason between 18-19 at the time. (If you really want me to find panel sources for Tim's birthday and his age in RR then, sure, but I don't think they're necessary. I used it more as a guidepost for Jason's age, since we have a clear idea of what the age gap is.)

At least, on paper.

Mia for her part I've had a hard time finding like, on panel mentions of her age and if anyone can direct me to it being explicitly stated I'd love that. I'm rereading old comics but it's a LOT of comics to hunt down & dig through. To my understanding she was fifteen when Ollie first met her, and there's at Minimum of about a year and a half between that to her meeting Red Hood, more likely at least two? because there's at least few months between that and her joining the Titans, the Doctor Light stuff, then One Year Later, and then returned to Star some 3 months after Ollie came back to run for mayor? And then Jason not too long after. So, two years feels safe. Puts her at 17-ish, Jason at 19-20

Once again, I specify: on paper.

People would happily point out at this point that the upward stretch of a 4 year age gap is a "huge gap in maturity." And yeah, under normal circumstances, I'd agree.

But, and this is going to get contradictory bcs I found Two different timelines (BOTH written by Winick, lmao), and depending on how you read it it could be up to three different possibilities. Let's Start with Batman Annual #25: Daedalus & Icarus.

Timestamp before Jason's resurrection, which is pretty well known at this point:

Next, him waking up from a coma afterwards, when he escapes the hospital:

Now the above could be interpreted as either 1 year after he died if we're assuming that it's using the same "start" point to count as the resurrection (unlikely), or one year after he came back (more likely).

Next, the timestamp right before a guy recognizes him and sells him out:

And, finally, the timestamp before being put in the Pit:

That is, count it up, between 3-3 1/2 years where Jason was dead, in a coma, or otherwise not particularly... cognizant of the world around him. His ass is NOT developing emotionally, socially, or mentally like this, which pretty handily bridges the gaps there. Taken at face value, Jason's maturity level is going to be, unironically, younger than Tim's in the wake of these setbacks.

Now, if we go to Lost Days issue 1, it doesn't specify how long he was dead, nor how long he was in a coma, so we'll just carry those two over, what we DO have is this from just after Talia brought him home:

This puts him as being on the streets for five months, so we're at just shy of two years so far. And then we have this:

Which is right before Talia puts him in the Pit.

So, in summary: 6 months dead, 1 year coma, 5 months on the street, and something like 1-1 1/2 years with the League which...

Actually puts us on almost the exact same timeframe either way. 3 to 3 1/2 years. It just changes whether Jason was on the streets or with the League for longer.

And is utterly incomprehensible because comic timelines are a freaking nightmare.

If we're being generous, then that would put Jason at a minimum of 19, maybe toeing the line of 20 for UTRH, again, on paper, because like hell are you convincing me he did less than a year's worth of training abroad throughout Lost Days. Yeah maybe they trained him in fighting while he was catatonic, muscle memory and all that. But the other teachers that we KNOW of? The bombs, guns, probably something to get him up to date on handling all that tech we see him using, Egon, potentially arguably All-Caste if you want to draw from n52...

but you'd have to knock at least a year and a half off of his internal/personal development from death & coma, at minimum. Maybe you could argue he was somewhat developing while in his "the lights are on, but nobody's home" phase, you can't say it's at the same level as a normal person might when going about their day to day life, and it's difficult to measure. But he's not hitting the kind of milestones that he should be for his age. I wouldn't put him at anything less than two years behind. So if we use our upper estimates on Jason, and lower estimates on both the developmental setbacks and Tim/Mia's ages that gives us:

Jason toeing 20, mentally 18, fighting Tim at 16. 2 year gap, kind of stretching the physical age gap if we assume Tim had just barely turned 13 when he showed up to be Robin. - OR LESS

Jason maybe 21, mentally 19, fighting Mia at 17, two year age gap again. Honestly, still not that big of a difference - OR LESS

And, to be frank, that's not even counting the mental development issues that come from the intense physical trauma from dying - and I swear to fuck don't give me the "He's not the only one who died he's not special" speech.

HOW MANY OF THE OTHERS YOU'RE USING AS A GOTCHA LOST, *GESTURING AGGRESSIVELY ABOVE*, LITERALLY MULTIPLE YEARS OF THEIR LIFE.

Not counting adults, of course. Barry lost years, Hal lost years, Ollie I think also lost a couple years? but A) they came back still adults, bodies pretty much the same. B) While Jason's body didn't go through a magic growth spurt in canon, it did still grow esp while with the League.

I'll eventually get around to Titan's Tower & GA#72 (tbh, there are other people who've already done Titan's Tower and it'd probably be better than what I do, so I'm more going to focus on the latter, but there IS a specific part of the former that drives me nuts that I don't see brought up a lot), and maybe if we're feeling spicy all my issues with UTRH starting with how Winick is just as guilty of retroactively writing Jason as being inherently a bad penny since his Robin days as any of the other "modern" writers. Like, bud, Severe enough Head Trauma is legitimately enough to change someone's personality, not to mention trauma. It wouldn't hurt your narrative for that eerie difference, the Shade of What Once Was if you're really going for RH being Like that.

Final addition: I swear to god if you use my post to start up some kind of petty-ass ship war or flame other characters I will immediately turn off reblogs and replies I am Not Dealing With That Shit, please and thank you.

Anyways, @glitter-stained, your interest made me decide to actually put the work in now to pull it up rather than passively gather stuff to dump whenever discourse pushes me over the edge so, here ya are. Looks like you did have it closer on the mark than I did.

[jeannereames]

hello dr. reames! I've been wondering if you have some sources you can recommend on fashion and clothing in alexander's empire. greek clothing is a little easier to find, and military dress is decently enough documented, but I was wondering if you know of anything that would talk about the clothing in all the different provinces of persia and possibly cover more than nobility/royalty. image search results are a little lacking on this - many are either not described or the credibility is suspect, not to mention the influences of orientalism. do we have any legit documentation? were there any restrictions in who could wear what? how did the servants and working class dress? how different was clothing in the heart of the empire to, say, the easternmost provinces? how did persians influence dress in the greek city-states they ruled? that sort of thing.

Unfortunately, there aren't many recent books on this. Harry Thurston Peck did a lot of things in the late 1800s, and there are some others from the early 1900s, when there seemed to be a boom of interest, and not just in Greece and Rome. Textiles were a thing, but more in an "oriental exotica" way. There are also nationalist sites that sometimes elide when things started, to intentionally push back the advent of certain clothing trends. Some years back, I was told about a billboard in Tehran showing stone carvings from Persepolis of people wearing the face veil, meant to make modern veiling more palatable for women. Problem: the figures they were showing as "women" were actually MEN. Veiling in the ancient world had a different purpose (namely, the expression of power: I can see you but you can't see me). So there's that sort of thing to beware of. As well as just uncareful research. I've also spotted mention of "lemons" in Achaemenid cooking. Er, no. Citrons yes, lemons no.

Probably the best recent book for Greece is Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones's Aphrodite's Tortoise: the Veiled Women of Ancient Greece. But as the title suggests, it's almost exclusively about women. Fun fact, Lloyd was one of Oliver Stone's advisors on Alexander, at least for clothing. So most of what you see there is pretty accurate, except for whatever the hell that was Angelina Jolie wore as Olympias...because (I've been told) she refused to wear what Lloyd told her to wear. 🙄

Anyway, as you mention, military is easier to find. For others reading, I'll link to the Osprey series on military history that often includes illustrations that give some idea of clothing, but it's military specific. My other complaint is that they're a little too inclined to give the suggestion of "uniforms" in a modern sense, although maybe they've improved on that in recent years.

Harvard has a pretty good website (with long bibliography) about ancient Greek weaving, which would, of course, include a little about making clothing. And there's material on daily life--which includes clothing--in various collections of that sort. Robert Garland has a good one I use in class. But again...Greece.

The Getty has a website with pictures of Persian material from their own collection, but I saw nothing there about clothes.

For Persia...yeah, there's not a lot that I know of, alas. Again Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones might be the best name to chase, as he does both clothing and Persia. You could even email him and ask if he can recommend some material--probably going to be in article form. And it might be in German. A fair bit of good research on the ANE is in German. I just don't know what's out there on clothes, specifically. But he's probably the most likely to.

I do recall an article by Olbrycht that includes, inter alia, a discussion of what pieces of Persian royal wear Alexander adopted. But that's obviously royal, and probably not much help.

That's the best help I can offer. I'm sorry!

Perhaps other people know of reputable sources and can either reply with them or repost with them.

[chuuyas-height]

A Gentleman's Word (The Cat Returns)

Hiii this is a short story for the #gt_gotcha_4_gaza and the chapter revolves around the Studio Ghibli movie "The cat returns"

This is absolutely sfw and fluffy :3

You can also find this on Wattpad and AO3

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The rays of the beaming sun gently bathed his golden fur in their warm light as the motionless statue came to life. The appearance of any humans in the world of cats was incredibly sparse, therefore Baron would rarely have any human customers. In fact, even with no humans around, other cats passed his doorstep on extremely rare occasions since the nature of his services was not seeked very often. Baron brushed his thoughts away with a stretch of his limbs as the shop bell rang, indicating the entrance of a client. He straightened the hem of his coat and patted the dust off his fancy clothes to make himself more presentable. 

But no matter how distinguished Baron was, no amount of proper etiquette had the ability to stop his eyes from widening ever so slightly at the sight. By the door stood a human woman whom he mistakenly took for a girl. But he was not to be blamed. After all, most humans scaled up to three or four times his own size, and watching a human sport the same stature as him was an odd sight. The woman's small figure crept closer. 

“H-Hello,” she stuttered, “is this the Cat Bureau? I-I was advised to come here… I was told you could maybe provide some aid to my predicament...” the lady voiced. As she approached, Baron got a better look at her features. Long, chestnut colored hair graced her shoulders as an anxious pair of hazel irises scanned the room. Her figure, abnormally petite for someone so mature, didn't dare wander too deep into the shop. That's when Baron decided to make his presence known by clearing his throat, earning a soft yelp from the smaller lady. 

“I apologise for my imprudence.” said Baron as he removed his hat and bowed into a curtsy. “This is indeed the Cat Bureau and I, Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, am at your full service.” As he rose once more and put the hat back on his head, Baron realised he was actually a few inches taller than the human woman. As she reached the same conclusion, the woman flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully, Baron spoke. 

“What is your name, my fair lady?”

“My name is Anna. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Well, dear Anna, your problem must be of an arcane or magical nature, hence your presence here. And if my judgement stands correct, your predicament revolves around your size, no?” The woman nodded and hesitantly took a step forward. 

“That's right. It has just recently come to my attention that my body is reducing in size at a rapid rate. From what I observed, I lose around five inches of height every week and as you can already tell, it's quite bothersome.”

Baron hummed in acknowledgement, fondling the fur of his chin in thought. “I can see the source of your worries, my fair lady. I shall certainly start working on a cure right away, although please note it may take a considerable amount of time to gather all the necessary ingredients. I would advise you to stop by regularly so I can check up on your condition.”

The woman nodded as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress. She didn't want to get her hopes too high in case they came crashing down on her. “Very well. Thank you for your time, sir. Be certain I will return and best of luck with your work.”

Baron bowed his head as a thank you and escorted the lady out. After sharing their goodbyes, the cat returned to his spot and got to work right away. 

~~~

True to her words, Anna returned many times, each one appearing smaller than the other. She was losing height gradually, going from three feet tall to a measly two feet tall in the span of two weeks. The velocity of her condition was especially concerning to Baron but he didn't wish to upset the shrinking lady. Instead he opted for optimism and faith in his potion-making abilities. Indeed, whenever the woman paid him a visit, he'd have a new, improved potion waiting for her. She'd happily accept and drink the mix of herbs, extracts and other “secret” ingredients, but her hopes shrivelled with every failed attempt that by now were too many to even count. 

Eventually, Anna's predicament had reached a new low. One of those days, Baron was startled by a faint knock on his door. It was the middle of the night and unlike the other cats who were most definitely soundly asleep by that time, Baron was working his butt off, dedicated to reaching the root of the problem. He could sleep once his objective was completed. Wondering who it could possibly be this late at night, he marched to the door. Paws on the handle, he opened the door to find no-one. Confusion was written all over his features but a nearly silent sniffle caught his attention. Looking down, he was met with a tiny figure that undoubtedly belonged to Anna. She was so small she was only slightly bigger than a mouse. As she looked upwards to face the now giant to her cat, Anna's sobs died in her throat. He couldn’t help but observe that her small face was visibly red and adorned with the glistening patterns of fresh tears. 

“I… I…shrunk again…” she said softly, barely audible to Baron who now towered above her. His heart swelled at the pathetic display before him and his paws reached down and scooped the woman up of their own accord. Her first reaction was to gasp, not expecting to get picked up all of a sudden. But as her cheek was pressed against the soft, fine material of his vest, she let it all out and a new flow of tears was released. “I-I am s-so scared.” she admitted with both her arms wrapped around his paw, her hands holding fistfuls of golden fur as if seeking some relief. “Worry not, for I will keep you company until you get back to normal.” he purred. Baron looked at the wrecked miniaturised lady with fondness and affection, while fear started to find its way through his heart. She was barely four inches tall. What if… What if he couldn’t help her after all? 

He cursed his pessimistic thoughts and pressed the tiny woman harder against his chest in an attempt of comfort and security. It seemed to do the trick as the crying reduced to whimpering and eventually nothing more than occasional hiccups and a racing heart. Wordlessly, Baron walked back inside and took a seat by his work table, careful not to startle the jumpy lady in his paws. While still caressing and comforting the small lady, he had to keep up with his work and finish that potion. It could possibly be his last chance. 

~~~

It had been hours since Anna had fallen asleep. By the time Baron mixed the very last ingredient, Anna was snoozing in the cat's vest pocket, huddled in the tight opening. Baron raised the vial with the deep lilac color up to his face, glaring at the thick fluid within. I hope this works, he thought and with a soft sigh, he delicately tried to awake the woman. 

“My lady, wake up.” he purred. “There is a new potion I would like you to try.” Baron felt a shift near his chest as the tiny human poked her head out of his pocket, all while rubbing the sleep off her tired eyes. He reached into his pocket and scooped her out, laying her on the work table. He couldn’t tell if she was smaller than he remembered or if the lack of sleep was taking a toll on his body. Anna stood there expectantly, hoping this time everything would work out. At this point, the vial itself was bigger than Anna and Baron had to carefully lower it down to her level so she could take a sip. The woman tried holding the oversized tube but she honestly wouldn't manage much without Baron's help. She latched her lips on the edge and took careful, measured gulps. 

The excitement had died off of her as soon as nothing happened after Baron pulled the vial away. She had to admit this one left behind a better after taste than the rest, but it meant nothing if she couldn’t turn back to her original size. Crestfallen, Anna felt her lids droop as the adrenaline slowly evaporated from her body, the previous exhaustion finally catching up. Looking outside the closed window and then at the big wooden clock decorating his wall, Baron decided they both had to catch up on some much needed sleep. He took the woman on his soft paws and headed to the expansive couch where he rested his body, with Anna's tiny form clinging at his sides. 

The wearines the cat felt was so great he didn’t wake up until the early hours of noon. Not even the glaring sun managed to awake him. His eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh lightning, but something caught his attention either way. He was no longer on the couch. Startled, he searched for Anna's small body, only to find that he had been resting on the fully sized woman's torso all along. Elation overtook him as he realised his potion actually worked. Anna was still sleeping, unaware of what happened throughout the night. Something soft brushed her left arm and she shifted in her sleep. 

“My lady.”

Baron's voice she could recognise anywhere, but what was off was the fact that she couldn’t hear him all around her. Anna's eyes snapped open and she was met with the cat standing on her torso and smiling proudly. “We did it.”

Anna was stunned, taking in her surroundings. Nothing towered above her anymore. Instead, she was the one who was too big now. Baron took the cue and climbed down the woman's torso as her upper body rose. Everything around her down to every detail was perfectly sized for a cat's comfort. She felt like the giant one for a second. But once she was over the mild shock, her heart picked up the pace and a smile adorned her pretty features. “Oh thank you so much! You did it!” she exclaimed and wrapped her arms around the cat's figure. “No need to thank me, my lady. After all, I only did my job.”

Anna shook her head. “It's not just that. Thank you for helping me out, and keeping me safe. Thank you for keeping me company and going through all that trouble just for me. I'll be eternally grateful to you, Baron.” And with that, Anna hugged the cat once more before squeezing herself out of the small Bureau and waving goodbye with a huge smile plastered on her face. 

Baron couldn’t help but think she was beautiful. But then again, all humans were. And with that thought, he took his usual spot by the window until his next client's arrival.

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@gtgotcha4gaza <3

[save-the-villainous-cat]

So, unquick question:

I know you're probably not the best person to ask since as far as I know you're cis... but you are a really cool ally (using nongendered language when writing characters).

I was wondering what you would do to show a character asking another character's pronouns in a way that doesn't feel clunky or awkward?

Like, I've encountered media with non-binary or otherwise gender-non-conforming characters, but the problem is always that they're like, "Oh they're so androgynous. They seem to switch between feminine and masculine with every step they take!"

And, like, that's not representative of all (dare I say it, most) gender-non-conforming folks, especially not me! And I spent a long time trying to be more androgynous even though it wasn't the truest expression of myself. I'm AFAB, and I identify as non-binary even though I use she/her pronouns and dress femininely, and I want to write representation nearer to that, but I'm not sure how to. Like, how do you write a complicated understanding of gender? Especially when the person isn't obviously trans/gender-non-conforming/gender queer? Unfortunately, asking someone's pronouns is not yet as common as asking their name, and I'm not sure how to bring it up in my writing:(

Any advice is appreciated!! Thank you very much, I love your writing (and the nongendered language makes me happy as a non-binary bean, even though I use she/her pronouns 🥰)

You’re right, I am definitely not the right person to ask this, so please check reblogs and comments.

I think there’s more than one question in here, so let me try to answer from my perspective as a writer, I also got a lot of help from my lovely @epiclamer who was kind enough to send actual examples (seriously baby thank you, you’re the sweetest 😭)

So, I think it really depends on what your story is about. Because there is a difference between a story with non-binary characters and a story about being non-binary.

If being non-binary is not a big theme in your story, I believe shifting a lot of the focus on a character being non-binary can seem a little distracting for the reader. Because, you know. Some people are just non-binary. Not every story with a non-binary person needs to be about gender. Like not every story about a teacher needs to be about teaching.

Some people live in a magical world and need to defeat the dragon and they just happen to be non-binary. And some people accidentally piss off the Mafia and need to save a former lover and those people just happen to be teachers.

So, if you’re not planning on writing anything related to that, I’d just let other characters figure it out.

Because, ultimately, when you’re talking to someone you’re using you. When you start talking about someone you’re using he/she/they.

So, I think that’s why it might come off a little strange to approach someone and ask “what are your pronouns?” Personally, I’d ask someone else about a person’s pronouns. And you can incorporate that into your writing! Maybe a character tries to whisper to a friend of the non-binary character “Yo, dude. What’re your friend’s pronouns??” And your character overhears them and answers: “I use she and they. But you can also call me your sweetheart.” With a wink of course.

Or something like:

“Wait, I just heard someone say ‘they broke into the mansion.’ Who the fuck are we talking about?”

“Me,” she said.

“Oh. Ohh.”

And I would leave it at that.

However, when the main theme of your story is about being non-binary and how to find your own identity etc., being non-binary will obviously need to be discussed more often and it will have to be the source of conflict.

By that, I don’t necessarily mean fighting. It can be a conflict for the non-binary person themselves; they’re questioning themselves, they’re trying to find the right label for themselves, they choose wrong, they decide on something else, they get slowly more comfortable yada yada yada.

The thing is, most people who are cis will have no knowledge about non-binary people. They probably will never really understand it either. I think that doesn’t have to be rooted in ignorance or being an evil person, I just think most people never really felt the need to question their own gender (or they don’t dare lol).

And I believe writing a clueless person learning something new or making a mistake and being corrected can be used in a very comedic way or simply to show the characteristics of that and other characters.

Here are some lovely examples my dear husband wrote: