#too many processes and too many features that im the only one who understands

[prospitfox]

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[almayver]

hi alma!!!!! i see you often rb phumpeem fics. do you have any personal favorites that you would like to recommend?

HI Anon!!!! OH BOY. Do you know who you sent this ask to? OF COURSE, I have personal favorites, and I'm very, very happy to gush about them, thank you dear anon.

So first I did a mini smut rec a couple of weeks ago (A MONTH AGO?? Time flies, damn) and I stand by all of those so here. All of them are very, very beautiful, and fun and have a lovely grasp on the characters and their relationship (Also if you are not reading Cole's omegaverse fic I urge you to fix that right now. I breathe for that fic)

Also, this has to be obvious by now, but I'm very biased, and I think that @thunder-point @alan-apologist and @therethatstar are gifts of the universe to fill our world with great writing. So yeah.

Muse - Very sweet take of phumpeem after the kiss. Love the imagery and the flow of it. Just really nice.

Around the sun - Different first meeting AU featuring absolutely smitten Phum!

reach for me a bit (this loop is infinite) - HYBRID AU MY BELOVED. Cole rewrote my brain chemistry with this one folks. I keep thinking about them. Its very sweet and lovely, with Peem being very protective and caring!

Now and forever - This one is just a very beautiful introspective look from Phum about his relationship with Peem and the group, and its sweet and a little smutty and just very beautiful and soft.

Tiny moments everyday - I'm fully cheating here because this is a TanFang fic, but you don't understand the emotions this fic made me feel. I'm always here for soulmates AU, people we need more We Are soulmates AUs. And Phumpeem are cute in the background

pretty in blue - GLORIOUS SMUT, courtesy of Alan of course no one is surprised. But also, OH MAN, this one is very sneaky and it's actually POETRY. You are like yay smut and then a line comes that makes you clutch at your chest and process the emotions. Once again its Alan so really we shouldn't be surprised.

I hope it's not the kind of rain that only soaks you for a little while - This one is a soft little hurt/comfort that took my heart. Very soft and sweet and beautiful.

your back beneath the sun, wishing i could write my name on it - Star wrote this “Phum thinks they are FWB” that was very beautiful and also had me cackling

Counting stars - and then @danonenen was inspired by that one to write a “Phum thinks they are FWB” that actually had me very emotional and feeling a lot for my sweet insecure boy.

Wild geese - A very cute short different first meeting AU with some lovely ruminations about love

My dog really digs you - This one is an ongoing multichapter that I'm so invested in! A bit of magic and curses and loneliness. So fun!

hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better - Star makes you feel like you are in this house party watching two strangers fall in love in real time and you will have the time of your life

in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you - A fic about soulmates. In the most beautiful way possible. This fic has my heart and soul and if you want my thoughts on it I keep leaving my ramblings on the comments. So go read it, weep, leave your own comment and read mine.

i got an appetite (you too, just maybe) - The famous and beloved lap sitting fic. Really really cool exploration about feelings, and desire. Just fun!!!

Not without you - I see this as a tribute to Peem. And its a truly beautiful one. Featuring insecure Phum and the friendship group being lovely as always

Take my self-control - Short fun different first meeting au (Yes i like different first meetings im aware).

When I look at you - A bit of a canon divergent fic about Peem drawing Phum. Very fluffy and fun.

Every day's a memory - This one to me is a classic. Just a collection of drabbles, not all of them phumpeem but all of them very lovely and sweet.

There are SO MANY more, and as always go to the AO3 phumpeem tag and have a look around because oh gods so many good fics! These are just the ones that stuck with me a bit. Also I will say some of the best fics are the ones that are being written here through a weird form of exquisite cadaver through asks and tags (like the hanahaki fic Cole is threatening my sanity with (yes i made the og post but she escalated the situation)). So def check the tag here and try to catch some of those because oh gods they are glorious.

Thanks for giving me the chance to rant about phumpeem fics because i do love to do it!

[bewitchedsouls]

I know you mean good but fat girls can also break easily. I also don’t mean to sound rude or offend you but it’s rare for fat girls to be 6 foot, I know you might be fat and 6 foot but it’s pretty rare. I think most people stick to petite girls in cod stories because it would be scary and horrifying if they gave reader their sweater and all the sudden reader fits or barely fits in it and it only works as a crop top on them. And please try to remember just because their fat doesn’t mean they aren’t clean fat girls bathe too and do their eyebrows too they aren’t slobs. Fat girls can break when they get laid and yes I believe they also will jiggle around in the process so please try to be mindful when bringing up cod guys with a fat girl

i’m extremely confused but this might just be me not having enough sleep, what are you questioning here? i try (i’m pretty sure i haven’t either) to not mention body types, sizes, descriptions etc, i want everyone to feel like they can read a fanfic i have written because they can imagine themselves as the person, i know in one i said simon could practically engulf the reader but that is because i see simon as this big military man who’s built like a brick wall so that just how i tackle it in writing, as a person who has always struggled with my weight it’s nice to be able to read about a love interest who (not matter your size) can pick you up or put you on his lap, i don’t like writing for body types because it can discourage others and make them feel as if they aren’t good enough or have something wrong with their body when infact i think all body types and sizes are beautiful and think that no matter your size you should feel included in a fanfiction because as it says in the name, it’s fiction, something where you can imagine yourself in that position, if someone struggles to do so i understand that it wouldn’t feel good to be excluded especially when i have been victim to writing that is catered towards a specific body or feature, now if someone wanted a plus sized reader fanfic i would be more than happy to write that, my requests are open as stated and i would do everything to make sure it is up to their standards and their body description if i am given one.

I am also confused at your point of saying ‘just because they’re fat doesn’t mean they aren’t clean’ ???? this is extremely baffling and you mentioned eyebrows, once again ??? i’m seriously hoping this was meant for another post because you may not want to offend but what you have written to me i find extremely disrespectful and rude, just because you say don’t mean to offend/no offence doesn’t mean anything you don’t have the right to talk to people who go out of their way to write fanfiction for people to read when they’re bored, lonely, seeking comfort (as i have myself many times) i have a full time job that i don’t get home form till 10pm (hence the lack posts) you do not get to slander people who don’t have to write fanfiction but choose to in order to make others happy. My last point to add on is that you said ‘yes I believe they will jiggle around in the process’ this is going to sound rude but whatever, are you even a plus size person yourself? as you sound unsure as to what happens when someone is plus size and has sex? i think it’s extremely rude that you think you can make those kind of comments and come on my page and try to tell me what my body is and what i can and cannot write about.

IF YOU FEEL MY WORK IS NOT FOR YOU EITHER POLITELY PRIVATELY MESSAGE ME AND TELL ME SO I CAN EITHER FIX IT TO BE MORE INCLUSIVE OR CAN WRITE YOU YOUR OWN COMPLETELY NEW FIC!!! OTHERWISE GET OF MY PAGE AND DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME OR MY WORK!!! I DO NOT NEED TO PUT UP WITH HATE AND NEGATIVITY WHEN ALL IM TRYING TO DO IS BE CREATIVE AND MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY!!!!

[diodellet]

So many good options for the art appreciation asks but let's go with 3, 4, 13, 14 and 27.

hi hi ner! thanks forda qs!! these are all prettie incharestinge!! (<-girlie who didn't know she'd be Yapping-Yapping)

3. and 4.) Go to [fandom] tag and reblog some art you like that has under 100 notes ++ Go to the art tag (or similar) and reblog some art you like that has under 100 notes

noted, i will undertake this mission with great care 🫡🫡

13. What are your go-to Ao3 filters?

ok i have a confession, i used to be a sort by word count++completed works only++exclude crossovers-kinda person 🤧🤧ANYWAY that was changed, now i only really exclude chat fics (ahaha,,,,theyre not really my go-to genre, like sure they're amusing but i read a really good one once* and it ruined every other chatfic for me)

*this one's for u haikyuu-natics, esp team captain stannies

hm.... i'm not super-duper picky so most of the time i can just scroll through each work's summary and tags.

but if a fandom is popular (or if i dont have the spoons for sifting through works), i stick to just reader inserts HAHAHA, maybe oc x canon if there haven't been any new x reader fics and if there's rlly nothing oough ig i have to write her myself 😭😭 sometimes doe, the curiosity strikes and i'll try looking if there are any fanfics in filipino... i really find it interesting to see how a chara's dialogue reads if theyre speaking in tagalog (tbh i think one would have more luck finding filo socmed aus on twt? but i only know about haikyuu socmed aus)

14. Best fanfic tropes ever?

oH...there are too many... u can't make me choose the best out of all my faves that's unfair 🥺jk lol

i read* this jamikali fic (i like my ships with a bit [read: a LOT] of tragedy/disaster-ness to them. it's so so so compelling to read!) and i just love the "Dubiously Unrequited Love" tag. bcs yes, the feelings are technically mutual, but there is a whole slew of other factors keeping the relationship from being a thing, which it could be a thing, but there's also that awareness that it won't last, sometimes a couple doesn't have to be endgame for the love to mean something, ykw?

this entire oneshot series....has me in a chokehold... my introduction to "Non-Sexual Intimacy" (and "Non-Sexual Nudity" i guess?) like??? holy shit??? the tension?? the way op just encapsulates the poignancy of being in such a vulnerable position without teetering too much into the cliche of roëmænce it has me On My Knees!! (like i love my smut and romance cliches, but some days i jus want a liiiitle bit more spice and variety)

Shoutout to the "Unreliable Narrator"++"Ambiguous Ending" combi that reaaaaally makes you work for understanding the plot, idk how to word it but being able to leave Just Enough Breadcrumbs and having enough trust in your readers to Get what ur implying, also forcing me to reread the fic immediately is so foul (in a good way). like there's an enjoyment in a good satisfying read, and then there's the Itch of never being sure in your interpretation, the feeling that u just need to go over it another time, spot another detail u missed, get wrecked all over again, rinse and repeat. idk i love fic.

27. If someone wanted to make you a creative gift, what's the thing that would make you the happiest?

oh anything featuring my fave charas is sure to make me happy! i mean i'm just not super picky abt gifts. well, maybe a creative gift has to be smth that can last a long while? (a strong hoard-ability kaya idk im senti??)

as long as the thought and intent was there, i'm already happy enough🥰💕💕 but i guess in the context of getting fic gifted to you, probably what matters most to me is that the writer enjoyed the process of making it as well. (i'm kinda drawing off of my experience writing this fic for one of m'oomfies and the vdays drabbles*** so i could be just rambling who knows?**)

(art appreciation ask questions, please bug me to rb some underrated art and fic)

[just-before-dawn]

ok big question im kinda wondering how did you came up with ur fanfic "Where the Streets have no name" and the inspos when it comes to writng the world and its characters

thank you for the question! im always willing to blurb out my thought processes haha.

i wanted to write a long fic because there really wasnt that many? (at the time when i came up with this) and i just really wanted to read a very good dramatic slowburn human au tuggoff fic but there weren't any out there, so i did the dirty work myself haha.

i actually came up with the story idea in 2022. this fic couldve been a VERY different story, but i still wanted it to be a dramatic, slice of life, school based, human au fic that features misto's magic as its main point. (the scene of tugger discovering misto's magic was the drive for me creating this whole fic). at first, they started out in an academy and all of the characters were dorming, but i realized it didnt fit well with misto's magic and the overall plot, so i turned it into the siblings having to attend public school.

the music was also a big factor for writing this fic. each chapter is a song. i try to relate the chapter plot to the song or vice versa. (thank you guardians of the galaxy for being my inspo to that). however the title is actually the one song i put most thought into because the lyrics relate to tugger and misto's personal goals so well. they are both beaten up from the life they have lived/are living. they want to escape this pain so badly, so they find it in each other and their love to find the peace they need, the healing they crave, the street that has no name.

i have a lot of inspos for the way i write tugger and misto. i took inspo from heartstopper, sasaki and miyano, boy meets world, and other series (that i cant really remember off of the top of my head) for the general vibes of the story. i always imagine this fic as a drama tv series haha. rogue and gambit from xmen are also now helping me write the tuggoff dynamics too. theres also sett and aphelios from league of legends who are also very similar to tugger and misto!

but tugger was really the main focus point for me. it was important for me to really draw out his character. i actually relate a little too well to tugger more than i expected, so i always enjoy writing in his pov. hes the perfect character who masks everything he's feeling, burying all of his vulnerable feelings in the ground until there's no more room. i get so much inspo for him from sean from boy meets world for the drama and from sasaki from sasaki and miyano for how he reacts to having a crush on someone. those two characters really helped me build up tugger's personality. his interaction with the world helped me write misto's interactions.

i also love writing misto, he's a very reserved character who sticks a lot to his thoughts, so writing his inner dialogue was the hitting point for me. my favorite thing was getting to his "oh" moment with tugger. the main question that helped me write misto's relationship with tugger was "what would be that tipping point for misto's heart to finally fall?" i also needed to think about how his powers isolate him from everyone else.

i have a chart and list for misto's powers and how his powers actually work (which i cannot reveal yet haha).

for writing the rest of the characters, i actually imagine their voices and how they would say certain things, then it helps me get their personality from that. munkustrap for me was always that older sibling figure who cares so much because he feels he has to and hes the only glue keeping the family together to prevent another tragic event from happening (big relate to that). victoria for me is that sister who wants the best for her brother, shes the one who understands misto well to even say his thoughts when he goes silent. she's full of that joy, purity, and innocence that grounds misto. bombalurina is the perfect best friend for tugger in a way that she knows him in such a deeper way (despite them never truly talking about their feelings). because she understands tugger, she can slap whatever thoughts out of him and whip him into shape. i chose tumblebrutus as misto's best friend because i just always liked the way the two danced with each other in the 1998 version (despite that role always going to pouncival), and i thought it would be great to develop that kind of relationship.

but i do in fact have a pinterest board for most of the characters. saving textposts, face claims, and aesthetics really help me imagine these characters better. they also helped me design these characters too.

ahhh i hope i answered your question well and i hope i didn't ramble too much, anon! i get so excited to talk about my fic haha. this story has been boiling my brain for 2 years now and the plans i have for it are so huge, i hope everyone is excited for them as i am.

[galaxythreads]

Hello. Ahhh this may be an odd ask so apologies for that. And apologies for the gazillion spelling errors throughout.

 But i wanted to tell u that u r probaly one of my favorite fic writers. Esp within the marvel fandom. Ive reread your fics more times than i can count and greatly enjoy your writing style. So with that in mind please know im trying to say this kindly. 

You are my favorite fic writer . But Im also physically disabled. Your works frequently vist topics of disablity- physical and mental. And even more frequently do u use the word cripple in each work. 

Cripple is a slur agaisnt physically disabled people. It always has been. I understand that its a word that has become very normalized and so phrases like “crippling anxiety” or “crippling debt” or other variations are incredibly common. But its still a slur. And if you are not physically disabled you shouldnt be using this word to describe anyone, but especailay physically disabled charcters. 

One line that i think about quite frequently is in stygain where a charcter remarks that “this disablity had crippled the asgardian” and that is far from the only time something simillar is thought or said about loki, who is blind and physically disabled in this work. 

Frankly Its hard for me to overstate how frequently cripple pops up in your other works too. 

 I understand that this probaly comes from somewhere of ignorarance or just not knowing. But its frustrating to watch such a skilled authour constantly use words that cause serious fucking harm to me and my community. Its very isolating.

i also know that you are (or were) in the process of rewriting stygan. A work prominantly featuring a disabled charcter. And i am asking you to please consider us and the words you chose as you write. 

Again im sorry for the typos or if this is not as perfectly clear as u and i would like it to be. I recomend that you look around more on tumblr or elsewhere for disabled perspectives on this.

Heres one from a disabled authour:

https://cy-cyborg.tumblr.com/post/726304244629749760/cripple-is-a-slur/amp

Thank you for your time, and thank you for your works. I hope you have a good day or night.

Thank you for bringing this to my attention. No, I was not aware that it was a slur. It was my understanding that it was a reclaimed slur, or that most people used the first definition of the word rather than the second, but I can definitely see why it would be extremely frustrating to see that repeated everywhere.

I imagine this is a bit like me and suicide jokes. I can't stand them. They feel insensitive to me, as someone who has attempted, to the point that I have to leave the room/chat when someone makes a joke about it. I'm working on emotional regulation for this - because it is impossible to escape haha - but I can see where you're coming from. Like the squishy Bad feeling. And I don't want to give anyone the squishy bad feeling. I feel really sad that I did.

Any use of cripple has been removed from all of my works - i've double-checked everything, but if you see any more feel free to point it out - and I will be more careful with my word choice in the future.

If you are referring specifically to the blodig skog - which is, haha, filled with internalized ableism - me and another disabled anon have had a long discussion about that work and we came to an understanding about the content in it. I'll give that to you as well, and maybe I'll leave a note at the beginning of the fic, because I know that one goes really, really hard on internalized ableism, which is a very sensitive subject for so many people.

I don't know if you're aware of this, but my left leg is. Not right. I caused some severe damage to it over the course of my eating disorder - damage which has slowly been getting better - but at the time I wrote it, I could barely walk, the pain was debilitating at times, and i was extremely miserable. That work is me Projecting Very Hard Onto Thor, which is why it's like that. As that was a deeply personal experience to me that I was sharing the feelings of, I'm reluctant to change the content inside of it, but I did change the language so everyone can be more comfortable.

Again, thanks for bringing this to my attention, I am sincerely sorry that my ignorance caused distress, pain, or whatever word we want to put here. I take full responsibility for this. I should have double-checked that my understanding was correct, but I do know now, and I promise I will be more careful because i want everyone to feel safe and respected when they read my work. It was never my intention to harm, but that doesn't mean I didn't.

Thank you for the resource, I'll make sure to look at that.

All the best! <3<3<3

-Galaxy

[girlqueens]

Week 7

Assignment #1

Watch the Van Gogh Soup incident videos and respond to the question posed on TikTok: Is She Right? What is your impression of this form of activism? is it effective? Did the action have the intended impact? (one sentence for each)

I have mixed feelings regarding this incident. While I understand the point they were trying to make and they stated they did it knowing the painting wouldn't be harmed I still wonder what would have happened if there may have been a crack in the class and part of the painting accidentally did get ruined in the process, you really can never be too sure of what may happen. And in the TikTok she mentioned how this is not the first time they have done this and they have even went as far to glue themselves to paintings before. While I think this form of activism grabs attention, I think it causes people to become more angry than anything else. Art is a major piece of history that is important that we preserve so risking ruining it is alarming but then again their point is without a planet there will be no art, let alone people.

Assignment #2 Required reading: A Bigger Picture by Vanessa Nakate and No One is Too Small to Make a Difference  by Greta Thunberg

"A Bigger Picture" chronicles Nakate's journey as a black climate activist in Uganda. The book begins by telling the story of Nakate being cropped out of a photograph that featured her and 4 white women activists from Europe while attending the 2019 World Economic Forum. She went into detail about how this was a defining moment for her in realizing the inequality and lack of representation that is engrained within the global climate movement. In the book, she discusses how the Global South is currently effected the most by the climate crisis yet those who live in those regions voices are constantly silenced and not heard. She emphasizes how Western/American culture constantly labels climate change as a thing of the future but doesn't recognize that it is happening NOW because many voices are being silenced.

Nakate also goes into detail about her personal experience growing up in Uganda and recounts the struggle to gather basic essentials for human life such as water and being able to breathe clean air. She also discusses gender roles in her country and how not only did they limit her and other girls from being able to partake in movements and protests but they also were caused by climate change itself. The precarious conditions financially caused by climate change created a need for more gendered roles specifically since money was tight. Climate change hinders an area's economics substantially there for also creating less access/funding for education in some regions.

"No One is Too Small to Make a Difference" is compilation of 19 year old Greta Thunberg's most notable speeches she has made at different climate rallies within the last 4 years in the climate activist spotlight. In many of her speeches throughout the book, such as Almost Everything is Black and White and Im Too Young to Do This she brings attention to the fact that the Climate Crisis is not being spoken or taught about enough. That is needs to be broadcasted on TV constantly and in all the newspaper headlines so people know that it is real and it is happening. She talks about how the solutions to the problems are already worked out by many scientific leaders, but these solutions are not being implemented. Instead, people are silenced and no one talks about it.

Thunberg states "To me that is black or white. There are not grey areas when it comes to survival. We either go one as a civilization or we don't." This is one of the most bone-chilling statements in the book, simply because of it's raw truth. She discusses how everything is cause and effect, and one of the most important themes she discusses is equity. She simply states that if the countries that have everything don't care about the climate crisis, then how can we expect that countries who have nothing and are effected the most to care. This question brings up a good point about the morals we have of a society and how we can overlook the suffering currently being experienced by our fellow brothers and sisters in other countries already experiencing drastic effects of climate change.

Assignment #3

What challenges did they overcome to become leaders? What is unique about their career paths and offerings? What solutions and innovations do they offer? Why do you think they are among so many women leading the charge on climate?

Leah Penniman is the owner of Soul Fire Farm and author of the book Farming While Black. Penniman spent most of her adult life living in a food desert, a region where access to nutricious and healthy foods that are affordable are limited, these areas also don't have food markets nearby making grocery shopping difficult at times. Tired of seeing her community struggle she bought her own farm outside of the city where she started focusing on regenerative farming. In her journey, she focused heavily on healing the soil. Utilizing different methods of composting and increasing the biodiversity in the landscape she was able to produce soil rich in nutrients that also did its part in housing proper amounts of CO2 reducing GHG emissions. She also focused on teaching the youth POC in her community by creating a program that allowed them to learn how to work on the farm and emphasized the importance of connecting with the soil and following ancestral methods of farming. Food produced on the farm would be portioned and given to members of the community, helping to fight against the problem of food deserts. Regenerative farming helps to fight against greenhouse gas emissions that the traditional agricultural farming methods are responsible for. It eliminates the toxic fertilizers and chemicals these farming methods use and utilizes natural methods instead. Penniman has spearheaded a movement that is educating the youth and communities in so many different important areas. She has experienced the effects of the climate crisis first hand which qualifies her to take charge and teach from her experience.

[soap-ful]

Art advice from someone who needs art advice but the specific kind that only I know how to give

A 2am write up by a burnt out artist with nothing better to do :)

Okay so let’s rate the typical tutorials people will look up (generalized)

Anatomy

Features (hair, eyes, lips, etc)

Bodies (in terms of shape)

Anatomy is one of the MOST IMPORTANT things when drawing!! It comes before stylizing and basic features - you need to know anatomy before you branch off into your own style! (Take as long as you need. I started out without any knowledge regarding anatomy - it’s how it goes. You’re never perfect.)

Second to anatomy is FEATURES! Eyes, hair, lips, clothes/folds, shading - those are second. I once asked a professional painter how she got things so perfect, and she said she would just repeat what she needed to understand. She filled an entire sketchbook with eyes, another with lips, another with hair, and so on. (She additionally did this with anatomy - one for hands, one for feet - then onto more complex shapes with heads, arms/legs, torsos). She would then fill an entire sketchbook with everything added together - basically she would redraw puzzle pieces until they ‘fit’.

Now, body shape is a rather stigmatized thing in the community of young and growing artists. I’m sure you have seen the classic ‘women are round/men are square’ or the ‘hourglass vs. rectangle shape’ or the ‘girl eyes vs. boy eyes’. While I do believe these help with basic anatomy skills and helps artists convey the cookie cutter gender alignments, you need to remember that boys have eyelashes and girls can be square. Don’t be too worried about conveying yourself properly! It comes with practice!

REMEMBER! Learning is a mess! You can learn in so many ways - I’m still learning, Picasso was still learning, that two year old with crayons is still learning.

Find your own rhythm. It’s frustrating and you’ll cry and the pictures in your head won’t come out as beautifully as you imagined, but you need to realize that not all tutorials work for every person, and that you don’t need to hyper fixate on a singular piece of advice from one artist.

There’s no holy grail of knowledge on how to make things look ‘good’. Time and patience and lots of crying is the only grail you’ll get - and that’s okay! It’s okay to rip your paper and throw your book and scribble over something and throw something out. It’s okay to give up and do something else, it’s okay to discard an idea you really liked, it’s okay to never get to an idea you really liked.

It’s okay to say that you can’t, but you need to also think that you’ll be able to someday. ‘I can’t, but someday’ gives you something to look forwards to. I cant colour clouds the best, but someday I will and boy howdy they’ll be tasteful.

HOW DO I GET INSPIRATION?

This is something specific to me - it doesn’t have to be followed religiously. But I like to watch things. Sometimes a mild existential crisis brings me ideas (I.e. wow, I’m here and breathing and the universe is expanding a billion times over but I’m touching scratchy grass rn and the temperature is just right and look at the fuzz on that bee). Recognize the things around you and how you’re present to recognize it.

Visualize the colour wheel! Where would damp grass sit? A blush on the skin? A honey bee’s yellow? One of the most surprising things I’ve found from colour picking is that purple clouds in an orange sunset almost always get picked out as grey. Lighting is important to your colours and you need to consider that! Sunset grass is different from morning grass!?

I’ve also found that watching people’s sped up art processes have helped me develop. You get to watch their ways of blocking in shapes and making things look natural, no matter what style it’s in.

WHAT DO I DO IF IM IN AN ART BLOCK??? HELP??????

Do a daily doodle. I know you want to draw that masterpiece you have in your head and the pencil just won’t work and maybe you just suck - no, open a notebook book or file, and draw something simple. Something to smile at. A frog, a flower, an eye, a stupid face, a dinosaur - draw with the aim of satisfying your need to put pencil on paper. Write your masterpiece idea down for later. It can wait.

Just remember that all tutorials are to help you grow and not for you to base your entire art life on.

If you don’t like how you draw your eyes, try something else you come up with. Don’t like your shapes? Try something different. It won’t hurt you, it won’t make you stop drawing. If you mess up on something new you’re trying, that won’t end your hopes and dreams, even if it may smush them. (I try so goddamn hard with my clouds that I can’t even begin to explain how badly I NEED TO GET IT RIGHT)

It’s not easy! You’ll hate everything you do!

But I think the moment you draw something, even if it’s a tiny part of the piece, and you say ‘huh. what a pretty thing.’

That is what you’re supposed to aim for. Creators usually see nothing truly beautiful in their pieces, so relax, go with the flow.

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

im a cis girl but i wish i was born a boy. is this normal? i get really jealous about specific things when i see men and it would just be so much better and easier if i were born a boy. i like being a girl and like looking feminine but i think that’s partly because i look too feminine to look good presenting masculine-ly so i kind of have to like it. i live in a small town and have no one who understands what i mean by this when i try to explain this shit, which is why i’m turning to tumblr lmfao.

1. Check out this post. It gives questions to look at to help guide you on your path towards self discovery-- be it towards being tran or becoming more comfortable with your body and being cis.

2. You're already on a good path it seems. You're real looking into why you think you might be a boy. Ie. Feeling like you have to like being female, or thinking its easier to be male. <- this is entirely my opinion but if those are your top reasons I think you're more so looking at gender inequality social pressures than an internal issue with your gender.

An important thing to note is that being trans is an internal thing. While it can be influenced by and manifest towards external factors the source is all internal and focuses more on the body then gender roles.

3. I have another post but I have no idea where it's at. But it's SUPER easy to think "my life would be easier as a man." You're not the only cis women to think about that. And just thinking about being another gender doesn't really mean anything. Everyone tends to think about it at some point-- some just more so then others.

4. I'm not saying you are or aren't trans. All I have to go on is a few things that you mentioned. And as a trans man myself I definitely feel the "I should like being a girl cuz I look too feminine" with your "I have to like it" reason. I felt a very similar way until I started to realize how many cis men share similar features. Really the only true feminine/masculine features are the parts that are hidden under clothes.

But the BIG thing to look at is if this is coming from an internal source-- yourself, or an external self--family, friends, TV, societal pressures, etc. Because if it's external you're most likely looking at social issues that relate to gender then your actually gender itself. God knows we have plenty of social issues related to gender to make the process of figuring it out kinda long.

5. Take your time and don't stress. You don't need to figure this out today, tomorrow, or even 50 years from now. You can realize who you are at any age. And you will figure it out in your own time and at your own pace. Don't force yourself to determine everything immediately. It's never to late so give yourself time to breath. Focus on being yourself and doing what makes you happy, everything else will follow.

[captain039]

We can take care of each other PART 3

Hank x reader x Connor

Warnings: ABO, poly relationship, swearing, police things, Intimate, sexual, harassment, Daddy Hank, anxiety, angst

Previous chapter <-

PART 3

You awoke to Hanks phone ringing and him cursing it as he answered.

“What?” He grumbled as you heard a distant voice. You hadn’t moved from your spot on Connor. You yawned and rolled onto your back stretching.

“Did you sleep well detective?” He asked and you nodded dazed.

“Can’t Reed handle it the pricks there” Hank snapped.

“Yeah, whatever” he hung up and laid back down.

“Assholes” he muttered and you chuckled softly. He laid down with a soft thud from the mattress. You still cuddled into Connor he must’ve put his heaters on or something because you were toasty warm.

“Did you put your heaters on?” You asked.

“Is it too warm?” Connor asked and you shook your head.

“No, just making me not wanna move” you chuckled.

“Fine by me” Hank sighed as you heard Sumo bark.

“There isn’t enough room buddy” Hank said and you heard Sumo whine.

“Aw, Sumo” you sat up slowly crossing your legs and pet the bed lightly. He jumped up, in your face licking and making weird noises. You laughed trying to control the big beast as he finally laid down.

“What time is it?” You asked frowning.

“It’s currently 2:33 pm” Connor said.

“Geez” you said realising you had napped for a while.

“You were rather exhausted detective” Connor said and you flushed. You glanced to Hank who smirked almost proud and you glared slightly huffing. Hank was relaxed for once, a small smile on his lips, eyes closed as he leant against the head rest, his breathing even and his scent inviting. You leant back to lean against his side and he chuckled softly.

“My phone on your table?” You asked and he grunted handing it to you.

“Thanks” you said opening it. You had a few messages and emails but ignored them for now as you scrolled through social media. Connor sat up also, stiff in his movements and not relaxing back, you guess he didn’t need to relax back his body wouldn’t hurt. Hanks arm draped around your middle while Connor stared.

“What are you doing?” Hank asked.

“In a sense I’m making a memory” Connor said.

“I can record certain things and save them” he added.

“You show this to anyone-“ you elbowed him gently.

“Thank you detective” Connor smiled and you smirked.

“Great” Hank sighed.

“Two against the old grumpy alpha” he grumbled and you laughed. Connor cracked a grin, laughing wasn’t his strongest suit yet.

The day went on with you staying in Hanks bed. You had relaxed and calmed down after what had happened this morning, you were content in the soft blanket and leaning against Hank. Connor made you some food which was nice before sitting down again. It was going smoothly till your job demanded attention.

You all headed to the crime scene three stabbings in a club. Upon entering the room you gulped it was a private room on the sex side of the club. One android, two humans. The android was in the corner looking beat up and ruined by a bat or something, then stabbed, the two humans were on the other wall with stab wounds on their chest area. You got their identity’s, the android was called Kyla the humans were Mason and Fay. Kyla was designed as a sex robot and stayed that way voluntarily. The other two were also workers here Fay a beta and Mason an omega.

“What you got Connor?” Hank called as Connor stood by the door analysing.

“It was the android that went first, hit with the bat then stabbed on that wall, the other two tried to stop it, signs of struggle, possible fight before being stabbed themselves” Connor said as he walked to the android and looked over it.

“I can probe it’s memory to see what happened” he said.

“Go ahead” Hank said leaving the room to brief. You looked over the body’s again, there was a fight, something had gone very wrong or the killer just got his victims in one room perfectly.

“The android wasn’t supposed to be here” Connor spoke.

“How come?” You asked as he stood.

“The android came in to check on the suspicious noise before being dragged in and beaten to death” you sighed nodding, poor thing.

“Any traces where our killer went or who they are?” You asked.

“There are traces of DNA under the victims nails, matching a Gen Collins” you nodded.

“Send me her information” you said grabbing a spare tablet. You looked through her profile, 30, alpha female, she was tall and built like she was in military. You glanced through her past, she was in military, got kicked out for violent tendencies. She’s been prescribed by a doctor for anger management medication and therapy though she never took.

“We got one anger issued alpha on the run “ you sighed to Hank.

“Yep” he grumbled.

“We got any leads?” He asked as Connor came over.

“Not yet” Connor said and you and Hank nodded.

“Right come on” Hank said to you and Connor and you both followed.

Back at the station you all went through files hoping to find her whereabouts, she was no doubt dangerous and pissed about something.

You were at your desk for hours, it was nighttime when you decided to look outside. You stopped your task and leant back stretching. Your back popped slightly and you sighed hunching back over before sitting up. Connor came over to you and you gave him your attention.

“Are you alright detective?” He asked a slight frown on his face.

“I’m alright” you smiled.

“I need food and a shower though” you said yawning.

“I’ll drive you home” Hank said from his desk.

“You got anything?” You asked talking about the case.

“A whole lot of fuck all” he grumbled shutting down the screen and stretching.

“I need a drink” he grumbled making you chuckle.

“Home it is” you said shutting off your screen also and standing.

Hank dropped you off like he said, Connor following you in your house again while Hank drove off.

“He’ll be ok, won’t be?” You asked hanging your coat up.

“I do believe the Lieutenant has cut down on drinking, so, yes he will” Connor assured and you nodded. You shook your head laughing slightly as you took out a quick microwave meal.

You sat and ate happy to get some food in your stomach even if it tasted horrible. Connor sat and watched TV, well at least you think he was.

“I’m gonna have a shower” you called placing your rubbish in the bin.

“Ok” was all Connor said and you nodded.

You washed and dried before getting dressed into your PJ’s, Connor was still on the couch. You stood by him but he hadn’t taken notice.

“Connor?” You asked, he blinked and looked to you.

“Sorry detective” he said.

“It’s alright” you chuckled.

“You ok?” You asked.

“Yes, just going through some files is all, I apologise” you shook your head and sat by him.

“Don’t apologise” you smiled.

“Find anything?” You asked curiously.

“It wasn’t for the case” he admitted and you frowned curious.

“What was it for?” You asked head tilting.

“If you wanna tell me” you added. If you didn’t know any better you’d say the blue in his cheeks represented a blush.

“I am required to fulfill my roll in taking care of you and Hank both emotionally and physically” you flushed a little as he spoke.

“You don’t have to take care of us, we take care of each other” you said.

“It’s not all on you, I’m just not good with this” you sighed.

“It’s new to me and though Hank was-“ you flushed remembering what happened earlier.

“Eager, we’re gonna have some issues” you mumbled.

“What issues?” Connor asked frowning slightly.

“Well me, I overthink overthinking, Hank Is insecure even if he doesn’t admit it, I’m trying to please both you and Hank, Hanks the only one with experience!” you rambled a bit realising you hadn’t thought this through.

“And Hanks distant” you sighed sagging into the couch.

“Maybe it was a bad idea” you said sadly.

“Y/n” Connor said and you looked to him, he rarely said your name.

“This wasn’t a bad idea, this will take time to get used to and figure our mission out together” you smiled at him.

“Though I don’t understand many things I am willing to learn” he added.

“And try” he said another blue tint to his cheeks.

“May I kiss you detective?” He asked and you smiled as your heart pounded. You nodded and he leant forward, you closed your eyes as he pressed his synthetic lips to yours. It felt like real ones only smoother, you hummed softly leaning up body eager again. He pulled back eyes in a daze as you smiled slightly.

“I have to return to cyber life for some adjustments soon” he said and you frowned.

“Are you ok?” You asked worried.

“I’m ok, they’re going to add features to my body and system” you frowned.

“I’ll be better equipped like a male alpha” you flushed at his words and leant back into the seat avoiding his eyes.

“Oh” you stuttered out.

“When- when is this?” You asked.

“Tomorrow” you nodded embarrassed.

“How long will you be gone?” You asked.

“Only for the night” you nodded again.

“Ok” you said softly.

You frowned as your phone buzzed. You answered and frowned when you heard a familiar voice.

“Jimmy?” You questioned and he sighed confirming. Connor frowned also leaning in.

“Can you come get Hank please” you glanced to Connor at his words.

“Mans messed up again” your heart sank.

“Im on my way” you hung up.

You quickly got dressed sort of and drove to Jimmy’s. Connor followed you as you walked in spotting Hank in the corner slumped over.

“What happened?” You asked Jimmy.

“He got drunk started babbling on about you and Connor before breaking down and passing out” you processed and sighed.

“Thanks” you muttered going to him.

“Hank” you said as you slid into the booth next to him.

“Hank” you dragged out. He gurgled out a sound and you raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps I should support him to the car” Connor said.

“Yep” you agreed getting out of the seat.

“Hank” Connor said and Hank grumbled. He helped the man up who groaned and grumbled eyes opening and closing. He finally focused on you, your arms were on your hips.

“Why’re you glaring at me?” He said like a child.

“We’re going home” you rolled your eyes handing Jimmy some money as a tip.

“I’m sorry” you said and he shrugged.

As you drove Hank home the man grumbled the whole way there. You unlocked your door before taking him to the bathroom.

“Hank” you said as Connor sat him down on the toilet. The alpha looked around taking in his surroundings before taking you and Connor in.

“Fuck” Hank toppled over and you jumped back a bit.

You looked away as he threw up in the toilet. You held down your stomach and sighed going to get him a drink while Connor watched him.

The toilet flushed and you went back in with a glass of water.

“Thanks” he mumbled sipping it. He leant back against the cold tiles as did you as you sat down staring at him.

“Stop staring” Hank sighed.

“Hank we’re concerned” Connor said.

“Well be unconcerned” he slurred.

“Hank” you sighed sadly.

“What?” He scoffed slightly.

“You’re not my mum” he chuckled at his joke.

“No I’m your partner” you said.

“That’s unfortunate for you” he smirked.

“Hank” Connor said almost in warning.

“Shut up tin can” Hank huffed.

“Look at you both sad faced over me, it’s depressing shit man” he sighed.

“You know you’re probably better off leaving me here and going off with Connor” although he was drunk his words hurt.

“Hank-“ you said startled.

“I mean the fuck you want me for? Disgusting old, alpha, pervert with a pretty omega and perfect robocop over here” you bit back tears.

“I can’t give you a family, can’t give you what you need” you felt a tear roll don your face as he continued.

“I don’t want a family I just want you two” you said taking a deep breath.

“Maybe you’re fucked in the head too” you flinched at his words and clenched your jaw, he was just drunk.

“The fucked amigos!” He cheered and you glared at the floor.

“Hank you’ve upset the detective and me” Connor said.

“Yeah? And?” You stood and quickly left at his words.

You curled up in your bed tears rolling down your face. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want the three of you to be together, your alpha didn’t want you or Connor. You hugged your pillow tightly before a light knock came.

“Detective” it was Connor who called.

You didn’t answer so he let himself in.

“I’ve let the Lieutenant rest on your pull out couch, he’s unconscious I’m afraid” you sniffled and nodded.

“He’s just drunk” he muttered.

“Is he?” You turned to face him. Connor couldn’t answer.

“He doesn’t want me or you! Or us! Maybe I am fucked in the head, we’re all fucked in the head” you cried.

“I’m stupid for ever dreaming” you laid down again, back to Connor as you cried. Your mind was going wild you couldn’t handle the rejection he had just said. You tried to reason but there wasn’t anything to reason with.

The bed shifted but you didn’t move as Connor laid behind you. He slipped his arm under your head and another around your waist. You clutched your pillow tightly and cried softly.

Your tears dried and stuck to your face, your eyes were droopy as you tried to stay awake.

“Sleep” you heard Connor mutter as he pulled the blanket over you both. Your eyes closed and you sighed letting darkness take over.

Next chapter ->

[whitexwingedxdoves]

the other side  |  part 1   [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language, Death, Unrequited Love Summary: After being saved, you devoted your time to becoming the best saviour you could be until Eugene lets you in on a secret. A/N: Requested by @jinxeee​ im excited about the next couple of parts. ITS A FUN ONE I PROMISE. - I hope you like it <3  Click to read the next chapter

Covered in a thick paste made up of blood and mud you laid against a stone, staring up into the clouds. Surrounding you were piles of the fallen dead, some newly executed, some days old. You couldn’t remember how many days you had been there, fighting for your life but it had been long enough for the hunger to start eating away at you and the thirst to turn your throat into sand.

“Holy shit!” a voice echoed through the empty field and left you feeling even more vulnerable, which you had once thought was impossible. Using every bit of energy you had, you pushed yourself into a sitting position looking for the source. Your eyes met with a rather tall man, wearing a leather jacket and what seemed to be a bat hung from his shoulder. Behind the man were two others, though they didn’t quite hold the same confidence that the man in front did. You watched as he approached you, kicking a few of the dead out of his way, he levelled with you now crouching in front of you using the bat as some sort of crutch. “You’re one badass bitch” a smirk creased his features as he stared at you, you were too dazed to fight anymore you accepted your fate with these men as you laid back down on the rock to find peace in the clouds allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

-

Once your eyes opened again you started to panic, not feeling the liberating breeze that you allowed yourself to fall asleep too. You felt much more rested, fitter to fight again. Your eyes darted around the room you now laid in, taking in the medical equipment and the grey concrete walls, you had never seen this place before and though it felt like a miracle that somewhere like this existed in this world you still remained sceptical. You pulled the needles from your hand that connected to a drip bag and pushed yourself out of the bed, taking light quiet steps as you came closer to the door. You grabbed one of the tools from the medical bench, a scalpel, just in case and turned the knob on the door slowly, peering out of the crack you made. It seemed safe enough to leave having not seen or heard anyone in the corridor. 

You stood against the wall in the hallway, the tip of your toes holding you weight. “Hey!” your head snapped behind you as you saw a man run towards you, you held the scalpel close to you, your grip tightening the closer he got. Once he was close enough you jammed the tool into his forearm, sending your knee into his delicates. Your plan was to run but before you could even turn you felt arms wrap around you, holding you in place. Thrashing as much as you could to be released from their grip only caused them to hold you tighter.

“Well fuck!” you recognised the voice that ran through the hallway, it was the voice of the man back at the field. You stopped trying to free yourself when your eyes met with his. “I was right, you ARE a badass!” his laughter filled the silent halls as he stepped over an injured man to come face to face with you. “I like you” he whispered into your ear.

You were escorted back to the medical room by a woman and the man, a doctor who seemed to be waiting for your arrival as you sat back down on the bed. “Who are you?” you whispered as the doctor checked your vitals, not baring to look up at any of them.

“We’re Negan!” the woman spoke, your brow cocked at her words. “We save people… Negan saves people” she finished, your eyes now darted to the man in the leather jacket. You’d never let the way he smirked leave your mind, it was infectious. He seemed to be full of pride as the woman bragged about his work here. Your eyes welling at the sound of it all, she made him sound like such a saint. “He saved you” she added causing the tears to fall down your cheek, his eyes now met yours.

“Thank you” almost choking on your words, you allowed yourself to relax a little more.

After the doctor cleared you to leave, the woman you’d now learned was named Laura took you to your new room, though it was to be shared with her. That night you spent a lot of time thinking about Negan and how incredibly lucky you were that he found you. Your heart seemed to swell when you thought of him and the way his leather jacket fit snug to his body, the stubble on his jawline and the way it highlighted his smirk. You were ready to be one hundred percent devoted to him.

-

It had been a while since Negan saved you and you had spent every second of your time since then trying to prove your loyalty to him. He placed you with Laura for a reason, to teach you about the way things worked and to teach you the ropes on how to be the best saviour you could possibly be and you were, one of the best. You did everything Negan asked you to without even batting an eyelash, you would never deny him anything. Your love for him grew stronger every day, it hurt sometimes that you couldn’t call him yours but at least you could be by his side and protect him.

Today your job was to watch over Dr Eugene, make sure he was getting everything he needed and to keep him safe. You didn’t mind this job so much, Eugene never really spoke too much to you, he only ever told you things that you had no interest in knowing but he was easy to block out most of the time. Today he seemed different, a little off from his usual self, he paced his room and seemed a lot more jumpy. You really didn’t like it, it was like he was up to something he shouldn’t be. “What’s going on smarty pants?” Eugene even jumped at your question causing you to smirk a little. He shook his head and insisted nothing was the matter. “Sure doesn’t seem like nothing! Come on, spill the beans otherwise I’ll have to get Simon in here and he doesn’t play quite as nice as I do” you teased tapping your foot on the floor awaiting his explanation but when he responded with silence you turned on your heel and headed for the door. “Fair enough, SIM-“ the man cut you off mid sentence, clearly scared for his life.

“No… no need.” Turning back around you took a seat on the armchair and gave him a smile. “The wives…” he started, almost second guessing his choice to tell you about what had happened.  

You sat in complete silence as Eugene told you all about the wives plans to kill Negan with some sort of pill and how they made them before fully thinking it through. He held the two tablets in a zip lock bag in front of you, you took them from him with force, your cheeks turning red at the story he just told you couldn’t say you didn’t believe it or that you didn’t see this coming, you saw how his wives acted around him and heard what they would say when he wasn’t there. Ungrateful bitches. You pushed yourself onto your feet and gave the fragile southerner a warning look and he took a couple of steps away from you and out of your reach. “You ever try this shit again, I’ll have your head on a pike.” You whispered in his direction before leaving the room. You shouted to the guards on his door to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t leave his room as you stormed towards the wives bedrooms.

Fuelled only by anger you ripped one of the doors open, the zip lock back still in your hold. The girls looked over at you, like deer in headlights noticing the pills in your hand and as the door shut one of the girls took her chance at wrestling you for the poison in your hand. When the others realised what was happening and that she couldn’t fight you on her own, the rest joined in piling on top of you scratching and pulling at your hair, pushing you down to the floor as you tried to scream and fight your way out of them. Without even thinking you pulled out your handgun and started shooting rounds into the women who hovered over you. It felt like a curse being such a good shot as you watched each wife drop, a few falling on top of you. You laid there for a moment, like you did in the field, completely speechless, your body now covered in their blood. You heard the door swing open but you didn’t dare look to see who it was. You just laid there, allowing the blood to soak into your clothes.

You recognised the next set of footsteps that came through the door, you knew for a fact it was Negan. Swallowing the lump in your throat you pushed the girls off you and sat up right, your eyes following Negan as he made his way across the room. Your eyes filling with tears as he witnessed the massacre. “I'm sorry” you croaked but you didn’t seem to grab his attention as he looked down at his fallen wives in pure disbelief. “I had no choice” the guilt had crept up now, strangling you with every breath you took. That’s when he looked at you, a look you could never forget. He looked so confused yet angry at the same time as he took in the sight of you, bathed in his late wife's blood, he didn’t talk, he just looked in the direction of the door before turning his back to you.

“Put her away” he spoke softly, not allowing his emotions to better his judgement. You shook your head as you stood up to your feet, attempting to avoid the other saviours.

“No, you don’t understand. Please let me explain! They were trying to kill you, they had pills. You have to believe me.” you cried but it was no use.

-

You had been in the small box room for a while now, still covered in blood, you sat in the corner of the dark room, holding onto your knees as tightly as you could replaying the last couple of years in your head. You never felt so much shame before after everything he did for you, you go and kill his wives. Why you didn’t tell him before you went in there all Rambo you’ll never understand. The anger got too much for you to process. The sound of the door unlocking broke your concentration. You looked up hoping and praying they would let you out now. The light stung your eyes a little, causing your arm to act as a barricade as they adjusted to the new light. “We didn’t find any pills” the voice that once made you melt like butter now only causes you tears, you looked at the man in disbelief, though all you could see was his silhouette.

“No, no… you have to look again. Ask Eugene, he made them. Please Negan you have to believe me” you pleaded as he leant down to your eye level… similar to the way he did when he first found you.

“He doesn’t know what you’re talking about” his tone was soft which only made you more anxious. You shook your head vigorously, why would Eugene lie like that

“No, please. I would never lie to you, Negan. Please.” Your tears seemed to clean your bloody face as you reached forward to place your hands on his but he pulled away. “Please, I love you. I would never try to hurt you like this” you almost skipped passing, admitting your feelings for the man as you sat there pleading but the butterflies swam in your stomach as you heard his breathing getting heavier.

“So you did all this… all this because your a jealous fuck?” he screamed at you, you could hear the sound of your heart breaking. “You’re pathetic.” He finished before turning on his heels and shut the door behind him. You heard the lock on the door turn once more but you bolted towards it anyway, slamming your fists into the door attempting to speak under your cries but to no avail. You sat back in your corner, attempting to catch just one breath but you couldn’t… all you could do was rock back and forth… hoping one day he would see sense and free you from this cage.

[mack3030]

Types of Paywall Abuse --- A post...

I think it’s time to tackle a topic that might make a few simmers uncomfortable, but we need to talk about it, because in addition to seeing a lot of people complain about it in general, I’ve also been getting some anons in my inbox talking about it. So let’s discuss this. 

Now, first of all, I would like to clarify a couple of things: 

When I speak of PAYWALLS here, I am talking about custom content that can ONLY be accessed by paying, or viewing an ad through a virus filled ad shortener link (which is just as bad).  Pure early access content, where you pay for it and get it earlier than everyone else who gets it for free IS NOT PAYWALLED CONTENT. 

This is why it is called a pay “WALL” because the wall portion indicates that you cannot access it without paying a fee/toll. 

Second of all, I would like to remind the public at large that this is not hate, it is a critical commentary. I am not going to go for these creators personally, nor do I want to. I, as a member of the community who plays the sims 4, and downloads/uses CC, would like to simply hold some of these creators accountable for actions that are unethical and unsatisfactory to the community in which they serve. That is it. No more, no less. I simply believe they CAN do better and BE better than this. 

Now, let’s get into the meat of this. 

The main type of abuse that I have focused on has been what I call Permapaywalls. 

Permapaywalls:

Content that cannot be accessed ANY other way than either paying a certain amount via patreon or another service, OR viewing a link through a virus-filled ad that puts your computer at risk. 

There are many creators who are well known permapaywall creators, with at least 80% or more of their content being locked behind these permapaywalls. Sometimes they may release a few items for free, but this is very similar to being allowed to test drive a car before buying it. It’s to entice the user/viewer into liking the brand, and then buying in.

I’m not going to delve into this too much because I’ve already expounded on this topic a bit. So let’s go further. 

The next type of abuse is what I like to call “Exclusive Loopholes”. 

Exclusive Loopholes: Creators who try to “get around” EA’s early access policy by offering a majority of their content as early access, but holding back certain items only to those who “subscribe” to their “patreon exclusive” content. 

There are some who are okay with this, thinking of this as a neat “bonus” for those who subscribe and support. However, the sims team made it clear: 

Folks who have a Patreon page are welcome to provide folks with "early access" incentives for their content but it should be made available to the general public within 2-3 weeks of it being given to folks early.

- Simguru Drake, The Sims Forum

Notice nowhere in this answer does it say anything about BONUS CC incentives. Nowhere. This is just a method that certain creators try to use to keep people from decrying them as “big bad paywall creators”. This way they can say “oh look, we do early access, we’re following EA’s rules~!” while still holding content hostage. 

If you want to offer your patreons some exclusives, here’s some ideas:  * Share pictures of your process, or work in progress content coming up.  * Allow them to have input into your process via polls and questions.  * Have an exclusive discord community just for your patreons where they can talk to you easier and share excitement and input about your content with you and each other.  * Have exclusive streams where only you and your patreons have the link to see you go live making content.  * Host a workshop on how to make CC using your process. (I see all of you who steal meshes from other sites sweating over this. ;D)  * Pause billing for a month and say “you know what, since you guys have been loyal and supported me, have a month of patreon on me!”  * Anything that honestly doesn’t involve only giving those patreons CC and not releasing it to the public. 

Let’s talk about another type, and oh my lanta, this type has had some anons messaging me ALL up in arms. I like to call this type “The Donation Disaster”.

Donation Disaster: Someone who CONSTANTLY uses the “downs” in the up/downs of life as excuses to not release content on time, or delay it while still collecting payment from patreons. Bonus “you’re a jerk” points if they then try to use those misfortunate circumstances to beg for even more money from their patreons on multiple occasions. 

Look, we all have junk that goes on in our lives. But when that junk is used as an excuse for you continually delaying content while still charging your patreons (and not using the pause feature), it makes them feel cheated.  In addition, when you then ask for donations to help you during your difficult time, and turn to your patreons instead of the support networks that are around you (ex: friends, family, religious communities, etc.), that can be VERY off-putting. You might be able to get away with it once, maybe twice, without a large chunk of your community turning against you. But the more regular it becomes, and the more they hear about how strapped for cash you are and how you’re asking them to give more than their pledge, and you’ll soon find yourself being called a scammer. Regardless of your intent, or if your problems are reality, you’ll find people’s empathy for your situation will be lacking.

I’ve had a few anons in my inbox talking about different patreon creators that always seem to have an excuse for why updates aren’t coming just yet, or why x is broken, and with their excuse comes a plea for help with bills, and a link to a paypal or venmo. 

Everyone has junk, don’t get me wrong. And it sucks to go through the junk we have in life, but if you’re reaching out to random people on the internet as your first method of support, you might need to be looking someplace else for support first before you come to the people who are already paying you for content you make. A one time “hey I’m in a bind, I need some help” donation thing might not be a bad thing, but when it becomes a constant pattern on your patreon....people aren’t going to take it well...at all. 

And last, but not least, I’d like to talk about the last kind of patreon abuse, which frankly, is really upsetting to me. I don’t even really have a name for it, because it’s literally so much of a “what?” thing in my head. I don’t even understand why it goes on.  Now, this practice involves the black/POC community, and frankly, as a white girl, I don’t feel I should be speaking over the community and what they have to say. Thankfully @xmiramira​ spoke on it, all the way back in 2019. Here’s an excerpt from her fantastic POST:

Even new creators who JUST joined the community sliding up in TBS with locs and braids talking about Patreon only. GTFOH. I’m not okay with creators doing Patreon only CC PERIOD, but my main discussion is focused on NON BLACK simmers making CC catered to US, and making it PATREON EXCLUSIVE IN AN ATTEMPT TO FORCE US TO PLEDGE, and how people are ASSUMING that I’m OKAY WITH THIS, and ASSUMING that I’m letting it FLY in my community. Just because I don’t go off about shit as frequent as I used to doesn’t mean I cannot see and I am not doing what I can to keep the fuckery OUT.“Oh but your friend has a Patreon” I don’t have an issue with what @ebonixsims is doing because it’s all early release. It gets released to the public a few weeks later. It’s not being kept behind Patreon, forcing people to pledge to her. Despite this, she’s still doing really good with it. So don’t get it twisted, I’m not on social media arguing with folks so people just assumed I’m okay with this shit, I’m really not. I’m actually two seconds off dropping Patreon share folders. (That also have my shit in it) Supporting people is one thing, but a lot of these motherfuckers are becoming extremely exploitive, and it’s aggravating. It’s like you goofy motherfuckers sit in DMs like “yeah let’s make some CC for the negros and put it on Patreon” Fuck outta here. And it’s not even just hair, it’s skins and even CLOTHING STYLES. Y’all are really wilding the hell out. African necklaces, black girl magic chains, Juicy Couture sweatsuits. Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? IM TIRED! Next time someone asks me where I got something and it’s Patreon exclusive I’m dropping a SFS link. FUCK OUTTA HERE!

Here’s the deal. The black community has been fighting for a while to be able to feel represented in this game. Here’s two articles (ONE, TWO) talking about this issue.  But the thing that has me upset is the fact that SO many creators of content that is AIMED at Black/POC simmers are locking that content (or a good majority of it) behind paywalls. And what’s even more shameful is some of those creators are POC themselves! They understand what it’s like to feel that they cannot make themselves or have sims that look like them in this game, yet they still lock their content away and expect people not just in the SIMS community, but in the POC community to pay through the nose for it.  The fact that this is STILL going on, two freaking years after she made this post, and that both NON POC creators and POC creators are engaging in this behavior is honestly disappointing and shameful. I believe black/POC creators should be supported, BUT they should be supported without depriving their OWN community of representation and access. And frankly, if you’re a NON POC creator and you’re specifically targeting this group to make money off of them with paywalls, I have only one thing to say to you:

I’d speak on it more, but frankly, I’d rather let the people who are actually in the black/POC community speak on it, so if any of you want to let loose in the comments about this problem, go wild. I’m happy to sit back and listen, and I suggest others do the same.

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: January 28th, 2021 (Part 1)

And we’re back with many more ask answers! Thank you for waiting.

Is lizzie/the main character tripping over a rock a random event in barbecue? or does it require certain choices? i picked the same choices in multiple different playthroughs but ended up with three different outcomes (1. nothing happens 2. liz trips 3. i trip)

Yep! It’s completely random. Just a little moment of life you don’t have control over, haha.

wait just double checking you stated that derek would be another romantic interest you can pursue in step 4 right??? im just asking cuz hes my fav character 

oh wait and btw i was the one that asked the question about derek being in the step 4 just now, and will you have to pay extra for like a dlc or something bc i play the free version rn and i just wanted to check!! 

Yeah, you will eventually be able to romance him, but unfortunately it is a paid DLC. Cove is the only love interest who’s entirely free-to-play. You can  follow our social media for when we giveaways for a chance to win a key for it, though.

i know that y’all said the step 3 dlc and step 4 will be released early 2021, is there any update to that? for example, a rough amount of days/weeks until release? no pressure at all, i’m super excited!! <3 

The Step 3 DLC will be about in maybe two-two and half months or so. Step 4, we’re not entirely sure. Maybe a few months after the Step 3. We don’t want to give set dates until we’re really close to the release since otherwise we wouldn’t be able to 100% guarantee them.

First off love the game. Second I'm a little confused on how the nsfw dlc is gonna work. Because based on some stuff you've said it sounds like a patreon only thing and others make me think it could be an itch/steam thing after the fact? Would you mind clarifying for me 😅. Also if it's a patreon only thing do you need to become one before it's released? 

It’s not going to be on Steam/Itch. The actual game of Our Life is safe for teens with no adult content. Any 18+ stuff we’re releasing is separate bonus content. Right now the only for sure plan is having it available through Patreon. If there’s another hosting site that’s not Steam or Itch that’d be easier for people than Patreon we might consider uploading it there too, but nothing else is set.

If you want the bonus Moment you’d have to join once it’s already out or sometime after the release. Joining now would get you our current rewards, but wouldn’t get you future content that’s coming later.

this is probably an awkward question and i apologize, feel free not to answer, but i just wanted to address the elephant in the room....will step 4 acknowledge covid/2020 world events?? i kind of hope not bc i'd like to just exist in a fictional version of the world where things are happy in this quaint seaside town and the world isn't falling apart, but i'd understand if there are some references to it. just thought i'd ask so i can Prepare if that makes sense

Step 4 isn’t going to include Covid or even reference it. When we set Step 4 in that year we definitely didn’t know there’d be a global pandemic during it. It’s too late to move the timeframe earlier or later, but we’re not going to make Step 4 stressful for anyone because the real world became so much more stressful. The universe of Our Life will just be an even more idealized place than it was before.

hiiiii! i'm really sorry if this is a bother. i was just curious if cove has a canon setting for each step, like is it canon that he stays candid the whole game and is super sporty for instance and the rest are variations? thank you for your time!

None of those settings are canon. They’re all equally valid.

I love the game and Cove so much that I ended up spending most of the holidays playing it. Definitely worth it! Idk if you're taking suggestions/criticisms, but I chose the peach skin tone and seeing it written as "my peach skin" in the game broke immersion for me because I kept thinking it was referring to the fruit instead of my skin color. I think that skin color is most commonly referred to as "fair" but "peachy" or "rosy" would work too if you're looking for a different word 

Thank you for sharing your experience. We’ll change it to “peachy” in the next update!

So I accidentally overwrote a save file with a different one, is there any way I can recover that save? 

Sadly, there isn’t. Not unless you had a backup of the actual save file files in a separate location you can get. I’m really sorry. You can try using the skip feature to quickly speed through the game and get back to where you were though.

Do you try to maintain the color scheme for the clothing throughout the years in Our Life? 

Yes, though in hindsight not as much as I wished I did, haha. It could’ve been a little more cohesive. It was a bit too broad in my opinion.

I noticed that Cliff mentions he wasn’t much older than Cove before finding out he was going to be a father when he finds MC in bed with Cove during Part 3 so doesn’t that Cliff and Kyra were teenage/young parents? 

Yeah, Cliff was nineteen and Kyra was eighteen when Cove was born. They were just a couple of kids.

Does Cove have a favourite holiday? 

It changes depending on the year. Around Step 1 he’s not a huge fan of a lot of holidays because he’s not together with his whole family for them. But once he’s older and Kyra comes around more, he starts appreciating major family holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas more than other holidays because he knows how it feels not to have that. Though summer vacation is of course his most favorite all the time, if that counts as a “holiday”.

I tried to join your patreon but I can’t seem to? The website keeps saying something went wrong and to try again. 

I’m sorry you’re having trouble! I think contacting Patreon support would probably be the best option if the joining process itself is having issues.

How much is it to become a part of your Patreon? I don’t have a lot of money currently but would love to help you out more than just buying the games and dlcs. 

Aw, I appreciate you wanting to support but the Patreon is really optional. You don’t need to push yourself to join if you don’t have extra funds for it. To still answer the question, the tiers are $1, $5, $10, $15, and $20 in USD. Each come with different perks.

I had this idea for a future daughter for the MC and Cove being named "Poppy", after the flowers on their hill~

That’s a really sweet idea! I’m sure Cove would be a fan.

So if you don't mind me asking, how do you get Cove to propose to you in Step 4 and not the other way around? 

I’m afraid that’d be too big of a spoiler to give away before the epilogue’s release, at least in terms of specifics. Generally you’ll just have to be patient and try not to propose first, haha.

will we get to move in with cove in step 4 😮?? or is that a secret 

You can be living together with Cove in Step 4! Though you wouldn’t get to see the place itself. That’s up to your imagination.

Is it bad that I'm completely in love with Cove's dad... What I gotta pay to romance Cliff 😭 (I don't mean as Jamie because that would be wack) 

That’ll cost one million 20 twenty dollar bills, haha. I’m really glad you like him, though sadly we aren’t able to make a separate game where you can romance Cliff. I wish we had enough time to make tons of new scenes/extra stories in the Our Life world, but it just takes too long. Maybe people will make fanworks about it.

—–

We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ   Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog  

[yongtxt]

hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

-

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

-

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

-

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

[haztory]

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (2)

-chapter two: the story of us; warnings for this chapter include a brief discussion and mentioning of sexual assault. it is not described in detail nor does it happen to anyone in this fic. i will not ever be using sexual assault as a plot device as i think that’s unnecessary. however, because it is prevalent in female culture, or at least the discussion of it is, it is briefly mentioned.

if this makes anyone uncomfortable, please skip over! i will not be offended at all! 

-summary:  His eyes are a sea of green that you can't seem to stop drowning in.

a/n: this chapter is a doozy yall, im so sorry. this is mainly to serve as complete exposition of reader and iwa, so it’s hella long. i had an original idea of how i wanted this to go and then i started writing and this happened. lmfao. thank you all for being patient and loving and your comments are so wonderful! i had midterms all last week and all i could think about was writing this! so thank you all and i hope you all enjoy! next chapter will be pure chaos and fun!

i was listening to “cloud 9″ by beach bunny for this chapter! so that might help you understand how i see reader and iwa <33

(w.c.: 8,662 words)

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You’re ten years old when you meet Iwaizumi Hajime for the first time. 

He’s an inch shorter than you, skinny, hair set in an unorganized mess of spikes, and he smells of sweat. It’s the least enticing first impression you’ve ever encountered, wondering briefly if this is what all of Miyagi Prefecture has to offer.

Because if so, you’re not looking forward to it.

He’s blocking the entrance to the neighborhood park with his bike, back facing towards you and an arm stretched outward-pointing at something across the park. The same park that your mother has forced you to attend, kicking you out of your new home filled with moving boxes, a warm smile on her face and a simple request to “go have fun”.  

A request that was starting to seem like more of a problem than you anticipated. 

You’re halted in front of the gates to the area for a solid minute, the boy in front of you being less than aware of your presence as he continues to shout from across the park.

“Grab all of them, Oikawa!” 

There’s another boy roughly the same age holding several items that look to be action figures close to his chest. His face is scrunched up and his shoulders slouched as he takes exaggerated sluggish steps while crossing the courtyard. He’s sweaty too, just like the boy in front of you.

“But there’s so many, Iwaaa. Can’t you help me?” 

“You’re such a baby, Oikawa.” 

The one named Oikawa is about to respond when he stops his movements altogether. He merely points his finger, eyes fixated on something behind his black-haired friend.

You realize a bit too late that he’s pointing at you.

The friend, Iwa as he was called, turns his head with a questioning hum, green eyes meeting yours. A sea of emerald. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice high in timber and flooded in awkwardness, raising his hand in a shy greeting, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you respond in equal awkwardness, the kind that only a new kid can embody. Uneasiness has been settled into your bones ever since the move was announced, and now, as you stand before two physical embodiments of your displacement in this area, the feeling seems to sink even deeper into your stomach. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry ‘bout that.” He begins a cumbersome shuffle of pushing the bike he was sitting on backward, small grunts escaping his mouth as he tries to make space for you to enter. It’s a slow process, considering he teeters from side to side and struggles to smoothly retreat from the space. Oikawa snickers in the background, some teasing words being aired that you are too far to hear, but they must be irking enough considering Iwa mutters a “shut up, idiot” in response.

The friendship is formidable, you don’t need to know them for long to see that. Envy and all its bitter acid coat your tongue.

“Are you the one that just moved in?” Oikawa speaks up.

You nod.

“How old are you? Are you going to Kitagawa Elementary? Have you already—”

Iwa interrupts the ferociously excited boy with a gentle scoff, “Calm down, Oikawa. Give her some air. Geez.”

“I just want to know more about the new girl, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, well you’re doing it wrong.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and clutches the toys in his arms tighter, “You do it then!”

“Do what?”

“Introduce us! Make friends!”

“I think you blew it already.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. If she’s going to the same place as us, she might as well join us! What do you say, new girl?”

You’re shaken from the brief exclusion of the conversation— realizing they’re including you this time—  when Iwa tears his eyes away from his friend and meets yours once again. Upon connection with the emeralds, your throat constricts your throat and the relief of ease washes over. The hesitancy that was bubbling in your stomach starts to dissipate when he looks at you— almost comforted by his dark yet steady stare— but the sense is quickly replaced by something else that shakes you. Your skin prickles, like fire ants marching up the pattern of your skin, and your palms start to sweat despite the cooling temperatures and the light breeze blowing against your skin. 

You’d have to tell your mom about this, just to make sure you weren’t getting sick.

“Would you like to join us?” Iwa asks. There’s no trace of a smile on his face but the invitation isn’t lacking in warmth. It’s a subtle kind, almost imperceptible if it weren’t for the look of curiosity residing upon his features. He speaks gently, like there wasn’t a distance between you two and another person listening in on the conversation, pointing his question and attention solely at you. There was a center of his gravitational pull and it was in your direction.

He’s waiting for your answer, and not the kind that results after courteously asking someone a question; You can tell he is really waiting, wanting to know what you say because his eyes hold onto yours in a way that is much more mature than a boy at the tender age of ten should be looking at someone.  

He’s sincere. He doesn’t even know you and yet he waits upon you as though your response were one he was to weigh considerably with his agenda. He’s a stranger, only said two things directly to you, and yet you feel weightless in the most minute of his attention. 

The rocks of anxiety that were sitting heavily in your stomach for the past month have disappeared and the answer that he waits so intensely for comes rather naturally. It’s the surest you’ve felt in a while. You don't know them at all, aren't even sure if you'll like them, but what would you be other than a fool to not follow the path of certain safety laid out in front of you, disguised as a black-haired boy with the spiky hair? How can you be sure unless you don't see for yourself?

“Yeah,” you sigh out, burdensome weight lifting off your shoulders at the answer, “Can I?”

“Yeah. You can.” He affirms with a nod, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Oikawa, rather befittingly, shouts a cheer, resuming his incessant chatter in throwing an onslaught of questions your way but you’re not listening. Pulled elsewhere you find your gaze being drawn back to the calm and steady boy, with the sea of emerald in his eyes.

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, by the way. And that’s Oikawa Tooru.”

“I’m (Y/N).” 

“Cool.”

You spend the whole day with them, quickly finding a natural place in their relationship, serving as the happy in-between of the flamboyant nature of Oikawa and the pillar of stone that is Iwaizumi. It’s fun, the most fun you’ve had in the entirety of your move that you find yourself trying to make some kind of excuse to extend the day when the sun starts to set. 

But Oikawa has to go home, and so does Iwa, and the disappointment is more than apparent on your face. There’s the unmistakable promise of seeing one another again, that of which was affirmed when Oikawa held out his pinky for you to take and solidify the statement on.

“I can walk you home if you want.” Iwaizumi tells you after you both wave your goodbyes to the other brunet. It’s a godsend, a miracle from the heavens who heard your building plight and decided to spare your jilted mind with some form of comfort. 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you tell him, purely as a formality. Your mother’s lessons of never burdening others kicking into gear at his offer, but you plead, secretly in the deep recesses of your brain that he disagrees. Hope desperately that he’ll take the initiative and stay with you just a moment longer. 

He shakes his head, bearing a toothy smile that is missing one of his canines. “I don’t mind. My mom always tells me to make sure girls get home safe.”

Calm, steady, comforting. You selfishly agree before you have half a mind to say otherwise, “Okay. I live this way.”

And as he trails beside you, holding his bike in his hands as he walks at the pace you set, telling you the details about his favorite monster movie, you find yourself incredibly enamored with the short, sweaty boy that hates green tea and loves summertime.

And not for the first time.

You’re thirteen when you realize that you have a terribly, horribly, deeply incessant crush on Iwaizumi Hajime. 

It’s lunchtime and while you’re usually quick to eat with the resident bickering duo of Sendai, they’ve ditched you for volleyball practice— and not for the first time. So you sit with your other group of close friends, the ones you made through the conventional school setting, and not because they impulsively adopted you into their routine. They’re the necessary and equal balance to the growing testosterone you religiously spend your weekends with, so ultimately you’re not too upset at being left behind for a sport. 

Besides, it’s nice to be surrounded by girls who talk about normal things instead of sweaty violent boys that only talk about volleyball and occasionally the things you like.

Mai, a girl with a short bob that frames her round face, shakes the table with her loud laughter, the curtain of her hair swaying in tune to her joyful movement. She was the first friend you made in this group, and easily the one you’re closest to. The complete opposite of Hajime if her unabashed, frantic excitement is anything to go by. But much like the spaces in this Miyagi heart of yours that’s dedicated to Tooru and Hajime, there’s one for her too. She grabs onto one of your arms and holds it tightly, seeking stability as her melodic laughter rings through your table. 

It’s hard not to laugh alongside her. 

“Please!” She begs Yua, a blonde girl in the year above you, and wipes her eyes free from the laughter-induced tears, “No more! I’m gonna pee!”

Yua huffs, shrugging her shoulders to say that Mai’s inability to hold her urine was beyond her control, “I’m serious! That’s how I found out Kaito had a crush on me!”

“And what did you do?” You ask, laughter lacing your own words at the tale Yua expertly weaved, describing in excruciating detail how Kaito from your third period wrote a love letter comparing Yua’s lips to that of a whale as if that was somehow a compliment.

“I ran away! What else was I supposed to do?!”

Mai howls with laughter, her body being thrown against yours and her arms flailing with the movements, unable to contain herself. You’re almost identical, finding that you follow Mai’s gesticulation in perfect countering. Where she pushes you left, you move in sync, allowing her to lean her weight on you as you both lose yourself in the story.

For as much seriousness as she tries to implement in her words, the quirking of her lips betray Yua, “Laugh all you want, but wait ‘til this happens to you! Then you’ll get it!”

“I don’t think Mai and I have to worry about that,” you tell her, the remainder of your laughter dying out of your words. Mai snaps upward, her body no longer slumped against yours, and instead of facing you with furrowed brows and an offended expression.

The two friends speak simultaneously, one with indignation and the other with confusion “Why not?”

The pointedness of the question makes it seem as though your words were wrong, a misstep in a direction that you have to apologize for. Regardless of whether or not you know why. “Uh, ‘cause no one likes us like that?”

Mai scoffs, crossing her arms and tilting her nose upwards, “Speak for yourself.”

“Sorry, no one likes me like that. So I don’t have to worry.” You say with a smile punctuating the statement with a scoop of rice into your mouth. It wasn’t a statement meant to be considered deeply, it was a simple fact. There were hardly any thirteen-year-olds looking your way, and even if there were, it wasn’t like your attention was focused on them either. All the boys in school were either too annoying or too stupid.

Except for Hajime. He was the only tolerable one. Oikawa fell into the “too annoying” category. But you still loved him—sometimes.

Yua and Mai share a glance, a fleeting look before they look back at you, “You’re joking, right?”

You look up from your food to meet their furrowed stares, “What?”

They share another glance, Mai answering Yua’s silent question with a shrug of her shoulders. You’re completely left in the dark. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Okay, so what if,” Yua begins, the familiar teasing lilt that you’ve widely associated with the blonde returning, stressing on the ‘if’, “someone did like you. What would you do?”

They both look at you with waggling eyebrows, like they’ve cornered you into the exact hypothetical they want you to be in. While this isn’t necessarily an unfamiliar place to be in, it is a weird one, considering you and boys have never really been the topic of conversation unless Iwa and Oikawa were somehow brought up. But your friendship with them was well known and not exactly hidden at all. It wasn’t sensational, nor was it the topic of gossip. Neither was the fact that you aren’t exactly the kind of girl the boys of Kitagawa First were looking at if they were even looking at girls.

“But no one likes me like that.”

“Answer the question.”

You gesture in exasperation, “I don’t know! I’m not really into anyone like that, so I guess I’d say no?”

The two girls pause again, sharing another look. 

“Okay, can you two stop that?”

Mai speaks up this time, almost disbelieving, “You really don’t like anyone?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Yua sings, “Not even Iwaizumiii?”

The chopsticks that you held deftly in your hands go limp and a straight shot of shock runs down your spine. Time stands still in this cramped cafeteria and it feels like your head has been dunked into a bucket of cold water, halting the train of thought and highlighting every possible exit in this building.

The red lights of panic have turned on in your brain and they’re screaming at you to run.

“I— I don’t— what are you guys talking about?” 

Your two best friends, who now resemble Satan’s assistants more than anything remotely positive to you, share their third unspoken glance, and you’re about to lose it. 

“So,” Yua starts again, tearing her sly eyes from Mai’s excited ones, “You do like him?”

Code red. Abandon ship. Abort. R-U-N.

“No! He— I— We’re just friends!” 

“Oh my god!” Mai slams her hands on the surface of the table, her brown eyes boring into your widened ones as she leans over to invade your personal space and poke your chest.

“You like him!”

The brain that is usually so quick with an excuse, trained to be sharp-witted and smart from years of intense teasing from Tooru and Hajime, suddenly feels like mush in your head. Ooey, gooey mush that can’t come up with anything but stuttering, “N-No” at the idea of having some romantic inclination towards Hajime. The best friend you hang out with every weekend; The boy that always walks you home and always makes sure your comments are heard; The spiky-haired idiot with a sea of emerald in his eyes that you always seem to drown in.

But, that’s not— that doesn’t mean— No. 

You don’t like Hajime like that. He’s just a really really good friend. That you enjoy spending time with. That makes you feel comfortable with just a single look. The friend that you always want around, regardless of the kind of day. Yeah. That’s it. 

Hajime is just that kind of person.

Yua gives an unconvinced hum and taps her bright pink nails on the table surface, “When you think about another girl liking him, do you get jealous?” 

Mai backs up from your face to give a wide smile at the blonde, pointing at her wickedly and almost shouting, “Ooh! Good question!”

“Thanks, I read it in my sister’s magazine.”

Mai turns back, almost touching your nose with hers, “Well? Do you?”

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue as an instinctual defense against this personal interrogation, but it doesn’t come out. Partly because of the mush of your brain but also because you know any denial of that question just simply isn’t true; Because when Saran followed Hajime around all day in grade six, you distinctly remember being in a foul mood for a while.

A mood that could only be fixed when Hajime indirectly affirmed that he did not like her.

Oh god.

You like Hajime.

You like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and the stupid way he teases you and the stupid way he makes you feel.

Your friends laugh in your face for a solid minute while you hang your head in your hands, certain that your life was completely over with the new revelation. Yua is the instigator, teasing you relentlessly over the silent confession while Mai asserts that this is the beginning of a fairytale. 

She says it with such conviction that you’re almost inclined to believe her until reason kicks in, and the shamefulness of the situation kicks in. You push it down, fine with keeping the acknowledgment exactly where it is, right under your thumb. That is until Oikawa finds out about it and then suddenly, it’s no longer in your control.

You’re fourteen when he corners you after school. He’s walking you home, taking Hajime’s usual role when said boy and subject of your plight had to stay home with the sick. 

You don’t think he’s going to bring it up, hardly aware he even knows about it, but he does making you choke on your spit and trip over a crack in the sidewalk. He clutches his stomach in a guffaw. 

“Did you really think you could hide it from me?” Tooru teases, his finger poking at your heated cheek that you quickly swat away. 

“I’m not hiding anything, Tooru,” you mutter, keeping your head turned downwards. If Oikawa even sees a smidgen of embarrassment he would never let you live it down.

“Oh, please. You’re so easy to read, especially when Iwa-chan is around. You’re all, ‘oh Iwa, you’re so smart and funny. I want to be with you forever. Mwah, mwah, mwah!’” His hands are interwoven beside his head and he attempts a poor, high-pitched imitation of your voice. Again, Oikawa Tooru belongs in the “too annoying” category that most eighth-grade boys find themselves in. 

You lift your left leg, thrusting your shin outward to kick the taller boy in his behind, a move all too familiar. Really, Oikawa should have seen it coming, having had it done to him so often by Iwaizumi. He’s too swept up in the antics of teasing, though, that it surprises him and the pain in his bottom is sharp. His hands cover the stinging area. 

“Ow, (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you get for being stupid.”

“See! You even act him like him!”

You raise your fist upward and he raises his hands in defense, cowering at the threat of more pain, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He lowers his hands, one eye closed and the other peeking from behind his lowering fingers, “Gosh, so violent. I’m only trying to help!”

“I don’t need help.” You grumble.

You continue your trek onward, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and this nightmare of a conversation. But it’s not that simple. There are now three people that have realized the truth of your crush in less than a year— all of which are your closest friends. It’s only a matter of time before the friend above them all realizes it too. 

Worst off, only a matter of time before someone tells him. 

You turn towards Tooru with a speed that has him flinching and thrusting his hands upward for protection again. A yelp echoes around the empty street and was it not for the intensity behind your desperation, you probably would have laughed.

“Tooru.” There’s a rasp in your voice, one that you aren’t exaggerating. It makes Oikawa uncomfortable hearing such a serious depth to your previously annoyed cadence. In his continuously growing height, he stares down at you, fear crumpling his face.

“Don’t say my name like that—”

“You cannot tell Hajime.”

He straightens his posture out, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A brow is raised quizzically, “Isn’t that the whole point of having a crush? So that you can eventually tell that person about it?”

It’s not like you expect him to understand, hell, you don’t even understand it yourself. All you know is that Hajime cannot know about it; There are too many factors, too many problems that can happen. Besides, you’re sure it’s just a tiny crush, one that will go away after a couple of months. 

And even if it didn’t, you still wouldn’t be able to tell him. Because you’ve been best friends for four years now, and if there was anything remotely remarkable about you, you’re sure something would’ve happened already. Because Hajime is strong, decisive, and steady. If he wants something, he goes for it; And if he wanted you, in any capacity like the way you want him, he would’ve said something. 

But he doesn’t because you’re his best friend. Nothing is outstanding about you, nothing that would make you more than just the girl he’s friends with. Nothing that would make you any different from “just one of the guys”.

He would never see you as anything but. 

So, it’s just easier to have Hajime as a friend than to risk it all for a likely rejection. You could swallow the feelings, bury them deep inside of you for the rest of time. It would be significantly easier than never talking to him again because you couldn’t be a big girl and not make things awkward. 

You try to tell Oikawa as much, “It’s— I just— It would be easier if he didn’t know. It’ll go away soon.”

The brunet tilts his head to the side, kind of like a pouty puppy. When he’s not being a teasing butthead, he’s rather gentle with you, considerate of your emotions, and above all, eager to understand.

“Do you want it to go away?”

“Like I said, it would just be easier.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

A quiet settles between the two of you and it feels like it’s oceans wide. You, stranded out at sea in the terrorizing waves of emotions, and he, the lighthouse built on the rocks. Tall and fixed, beckoning you towards his stable ground of reason. It’s a brief reminder that when Oikawa tries, he’s not that annoying. He’s rather kind and empathetic.

“Do you want Hajime to like you?”

The deep cocoa eyes dig into you and the waves crash even more ferociously around you.

Cotton dries up your mouth, and the ache that always pains your heart whenever you think about Hajime returns in full force, “He never will.”

Oikawa huffs out a breath, back becoming imperceptibly straighter while he crosses his arms. It’s hard to imagine him as anything but that sweaty boy you met on the playground, but he stands before you a giant, body filling out from all the volleyball practice and the baby features of his face evening out to become the handsome boy girls were starting to see him as. He radiates his kind of steadiness, one different from Hajime, but equally as comforting.

It’s admirable— he’s admirable— when it's not pinned against you.

“And how do you know?”

“Tooru,” you sigh, exhaustion suddenly creeping up your shoulders along with the overwhelming urge to cry, “Please.”

You don’t feel like explaining all the intricacies of your perceived inadequacy and thank the gods above he’s a good enough friend to know when to stop prying, “Fine, fine. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

You stare up at him, searching his face for any notion of deceit or subterfuge, “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves his hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes in that way that portrays annoyance but the love is there. He understands you, at least. 

You hold out your pinky for him, “Pinky promise?”

“What are we, ten?” 

You hold your finger out further, almost waving it in his face. It’s the staple of trust in your friendship, instituted early on between you and him, and only you and him. He can’t back out now.

He takes it with a sigh of his own, huffing out his breath, and twisting his long, slender finger with yours. You shake his hand in affirmation, letting go only when you feel comfortable in the validity of his promise and resuming your walk home. 

He throws an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you tightly to his body, “Eventually you’re going to have to say something.”

“I know.” 

“I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

“It’s like you want me to hit you again.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe in the future, when you’re more comfortable with the fact that it’s your best friend of all people that gives you butterflies in your stomach, you’ll do something about it. But not right now, not when he spends all his time in volleyball and especially not when you were barely confident in yourself. Or maybe, it’ll go away, and you can look back on this as a funny memory rather than anything serious.

You’re fifteen when you finally accept the circumstances and become resigned to it. Finally understanding that your crush is more than just a crush, but knowing full well that that’s all you can let it be.

Hajime sits on the floor, surrounded by your regular friends plus a couple of others at Oikawa’s birthday party when he says it. You’re not supposed to hear it from your place in the kitchen, but you do and it’s a dagger to both heart and confidence. He’s confirmed everything you knew and quelled any potential rebuttal of thoughts Mai or Tooru have planted in your head. 

You were stupid to think Hajime could ever see you as anything more than the girl he’s just friends with.

Your appetite quickly dissipates and you have to work extra hard to make sure pure despair doesn’t show on your face. Especially when Oikawa hears it too and he makes that face that looks like he wants to give you a hug, which makes everything ten times harder.

A kid named Matsukawa is the one that asks. You don’t blame him. He’s only fifteen, after all, asking what normal fifteen-year-olds normally talk about.

“What about (Y/N)? Would you date her?”

Hajime scoffs, a laugh on his lips as though it were the weirdest question he’s ever heard.

“She’s my best friend. That would be like dating my sister. I don’t like her like that.”

You’re fifteen and you’ve become resigned to it all, because it’s better to have Hajime as a friend, than to never have him at all. Because you would never have him; At least not in the way you want. 

You don’t blame him for that either.

You cry about it later on, after the party is over and after you deny Hajime’s insistence to walk you home. He has a weird look on his face when you tell him you’ll be fine, your house is only a few blocks away. He wants to fight you on it, can see the argument forming it in that storm of green. It’s a shitty feeling to deny him so blatantly, but you really can’t stomach being around him at the moment. Not when your heart pangs longingly for him and your insecurities increase tenfold at the confirmation of your inadequacy.

Not when all of this is happening at once, showing as clear as day on your face, and he sees it. Worst of all, not when he wants to solve it, hardly understanding that he’s the cause of it.

His eyes narrow, staring intently as he studies your features. The scrutiny is uncomfortable and if he does stares a second longer the tears will fall.

“Did… something happen during the party?” Hajime asks hesitantly. There’s a whirlwind of possibilities crossing his mind, all indicating rather unsavory and horrifying ideas that have his worry bubbling beneath his skin. You’re barely meeting his gaze, hands clasped tightly before you and body way too stiff. The complete opposite of your normal demeanor, especially around him.

Usually so open, so vibrant. And here you stand before him, the dark of night surrounding you and the fluorescent glow of the streetlamps casting a ghoulish light on your face, exaggerating your dejected features more prominently. 

He’s heard of worst-case scenarios when girls and boys get together, something mentioned in passing when his mother was on the phone with his aunt. He never really thought much about it, considering he would never do something like that and he doesn’t hang around many girls, to begin with for something like that to be an immediate concern.. 

In this stark contrast of a moment, however, he’s briefly reminded of the fact that he so often tends to forget. You’re a girl; A living, breathing, pretty girl. Everyone likes you, would be fools not to. And while he would never allow himself or anyone else to force themselves upon you, you weren’t with him for the whole party. Disappearing for a brief moment after he saw you enter the kitchen. The idea of something like that— something that horrible— happening to you under his nose has all of his instincts on fight mode, forget the flight. A shattering of the innocence he was so previously impervious to. 

The implication is clear in his voice accompanied with the fear-stricken features, so you can hardly miss what he means. 

“Did— Did anyone…?” His voice cracks and he hurriedly tries to clear it up with the clearing of his throat, but you heard it. It happens often when he’s wrestling with an onslaught of emotions, trying his hardest to remain calm and clear-headed and focused that sometimes his voice just gives out. Also, puberty.

The act doesn’t matter though, not when he’s silently amping himself up to fight someone if you were touched inappropriately. He would win; He’s been in a couple of fights before, usually off school property, he doesn’t mind getting into another one. Not if it was for you. And he would win; Would make sure of that.

The tussle for calm is transparent on his face. Lips struggling to stay in a closed, neutral line rather than the frown he has to hold back. His fists clench, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms to alleviate the growing anger, only to prove futile. He so badly wants to grab you by the shoulders, shake you furiously, ask what the hell is going on because you’re never like this—

He doesn’t. He knows better. Even if the suspense is driving him up the wall and the tension that encapsulates the empty street is thick and choking him. 

Finally, you say something.

“No, Haji,” you say softly, “No one did anything to me.”

It’s what Iwaizumi wants to hear; Should be ecstatic to know that you are physically unharmed, free from the taint that comes with a foreign touch, the one he’s intent to protect you from. Your voice is too quiet though, and the smile you give him is too small for him to feel any modicum of ease. You're lying. Someone did something.

“I’m fine, really!” You try again, amping up the energy to convince him. It falls flat. 

“(Y/N).” That spiky head of hair tips forward, pushing himself in your averting line of sight, refusing to let you hide from him. He’s taller now, finally taller than you. While his hair is still that fluff of mess on his head, his eyes are still that piercing green that can always read you like a book and his favorite season is still summer, only this time he no longer enjoys going to the park, but instead the beach. 

He’s the same Hajime you fell in love with and the remainder is enough to cause a lump swell in your throat.

“What are you hidi—”

“Iwa-chan!”

The familiar melodious voice rings out in the empty street, its owner sauntering his way over to your departing figures. There’s that recognizable air of flowering confidence rolling off of him like a humid heat and the sly shining of his pearly whites that serves as a buffer from the thick air of tension between you and Haj— Iwaizumi.

Just, Iwaizumi. No added affection.

There's magic in Oikawa’s stroll, you’re sure of it. It looks perfectly coincidental, like he just so happened to stumble upon a tense scene, instead of the very much needed and purposeful intervention for his emotionally crushed best friend and worry-fueled other best friend.

And they call him the idiot.

He sighs that flowery breath of his, throwing his arm around Iwa’s shoulders and watching the desperation that filled your gaze wash away with relief at his intrusion. Iwa’s confusion only seems to increase, but truthfully, Oikawa isn’t too concerned with his hard-headed friend. He’s really only keen on getting you out of there— out to safety and away from the source of your heartbreak.

“Iwa-chan, you have to go set up the movie player. I have no idea how to work it.”

“I’ve shown you how to do it four times, Tooru.”

“But it’s so much easier when you do it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk our precious flower home while you set up for our sleepover.”

Iwaizumi hesitates, his eyes bouncing from the self-assured smile of Oikawa to your downturned gaze. There’s something wrong, he knows it. But it’s obviously a secret he isn’t allowed into. 

He won’t pry, he’s never been one to beg for secrets— never been one to want secrets told to him at all. However, there’s a particular sting at knowing that it’s you who’s hiding something and refusing to tell him. That there’s something Oikawa is aware about, that he isn’t allowed to know.

It’s not his business, he surmises. You’re not his business. He swallows that bitter pill, accepting Oikawa’s offer with a brief nod. He’s not happy, that’s plain to see, but he knows better than to insert himself where he’s not wanted.

Calm, steady, comfortable. Iwaizumi will fight for what he wants, but not when it hurts you in the process.

He bids you a brief goodbye, voice tight and rigid, clearly displaying his dissatisfaction but accepting it nonetheless. He doesn’t even look back at you. It’s what you want, you suppose. Some distance from him for your benefit, so you can at least try and forget about how you feel; Save yourself from the devastation of falling even deeper in love with him. 

He enters Oikawa’s house. It’s a place you’ve been many times, slept over on many occasions yet, when Iwaizumi crosses the threshold with a strain on his shoulders and a grimace on his face, you can’t help but wonder if he’s finally going someplace that you can’t follow. If you’ve spent all these years pining over him, wondering if you would ever be enough for him, only to push him away into an area of no return. 

Oikawa doesn’t give you a moment to think long about it before he’s ushering you away from the crime scene where your uncontrollable and childish feelings have brutally injured a fraying friendship and guiding you home. He talks the entire time, about everything and nothing, and you’re rather grateful for the background noise. To finally think about something other than your broken heart and Iwaizumi’s betrayed face. 

He leaves you at your door with the promise that things will get better, that it won’t hurt so much, and that he’s always there for you. He places a sweet kiss on the crown of your head, turning his back with a final wave and leaving you alone with your thoughts. The promise of meeting one another again is unspoken, instinctive. You know deep down, though, it’ll be different from here on out. You’ll have to be more careful, more guarded with the things you say and do.

You wonder if Iwaizumi has as much trouble sleeping that night as you do. 

(He does. He doesn’t sleep at all.)

Things do get better, which is a blessed curse. The tension eventually resolves after a couple of weeks of tiptoeing around each other. Normality returns in full-swing and you’re able to talk to Hajime without the overwhelming feeling of guilt and need to explain everything; If he holds any issues about what happened that night, he doesn’t mention it, following your lead and letting the friendship return to normal.

The problem lies in the fact that Oikawa was ultimately right, and he makes a point to show that he’s right. That things did get better, and the fragmentation of your splintering relationship with the boy you love eventually gets patched up.

Life moves on.

The feelings don’t go away, but you get better at managing them. It’s significantly easier to push the pining down and not think too much about any passing romantic comments in school that pair you and Iwaizumi together; Nor do you think twice about the harmless flirting that occasionally comes your way. You dish it back, continuing the joking nature of the friendship and after a while, it doesn’t hurt so bad. You exit the stages of puberty and things don’t feel as hectic as they once were. 

The turbulent waves of emotions finally die down to a steady roll, and for a while, you’re able to float. It’s safe, peaceful, exactly how you want it to stay. 

That is until you’re seventeen, almost eighteen, and Iwaizumi asks you to be his fake girlfriend. The waves pick up steam and you’re drowning again. You have the girls of Aoba Johsai to thank for that. 

This time though, you’re determined to protect yourself. The anxiety of it all starts to settle in between your shoulders and instead of falling victim to the whims of an unsuspecting Iwaizumi once again, the urge to protect yourself and your pathetic emotions takes precedence. You will not be reduced down to the unconfident, love-sick girl you once were; You’ve worked too hard to do that. You matter more than Iwaizumi’s stupid girl problem.

It’s why you don’t think twice when you blurt it out after agreeing to help.

“We need a contract.”

“A contract?” Hajime parrots back, broad arms crossed over his equally broad chest and the intense training you’ve instilled in yourself to not stare at him meets its limitations, lest you stoop down to the level of the girls he’s so desperate to evade. He’s grown so much, physically and personally, that it's hard to not look at him. You force yourself to glance around the crowded cafe, look anywhere but his veiny arms, and instead replace your view with the small restaurant you two frequent every Monday— the only day he has off from volleyball practice. 

It’s a small establishment that sells teas and noodles, a pleasant find to make one day when the both of you were hungry pre-teens and full of time on your hands. It’s usually rather empty during this time as it’s just out of the line of sight to avoid the after-school rush of students, but today the line extends outside of the door, all attendees eager to have a taste of miso ramen and pushing against bodies to do so. The people behind you are respectful enough to give you as much space as one can afford in the cramped venue, but you end up still having to press yourself into the stiff body of the boy— no, man— beside you. 

You have the decency to look at least a little uncomfortable in the tightness of the situation, but Hajime shows nothing. Whether it’s because he doesn’t even care that your chest is bracing against his arm or he’s too distracted with the complicatedness of his “girl” problem, his face betrays no embarrassment at the closeness. No frustration, no discomfort, not even annoyance. He merely exists, dealing with your body pressed against his as if this were a regular occurrence and not an awkward preemption to the farce that you’ve stupidly agreed to. This would surely haunt you for the rest of your years. 

This man of steel, this monolith of lean, corded muscle, was going to be your “boyfriend” for the next couple of weeks. You would be lucky if this arrangement even lasted for that long considering the confession of pure unadulterated adoration is crawling up the canal of your throat and tearing the fabric of your skin, sticking a middle finger at the rational parts of your brain trying desperately to hold it back. 

Your fate is signed, knowing full and well that in your inability to deny Hajime— especially when he’s so desperate, which is a rarity in and of itself— you’ve willingly agreed to have your dignity and confidence stripped from your person and your feelings thrown in a loop for the sake of his sanity. 

It’s annoying. Every potential hypothetical plays itself in high definition across the theatre of your mind and each one ends with you being brutally rejected once again. There’s no way you could handle something like that again, no matter how much you’ve matured. 

This is a bad idea, and you need to tell him that.

But then the sight of pleading jades enters your vision and you distinctly remember the permanent frown that etched itself on Hajime’s face these past three months. Remember how the feelings of deep discomfort forced him to confide in you on a late-night phone call when sleep evaded him and he detailed the dread he felt at the prospect of going to school the next school day.

If your mouth even opened a fraction to breathe, you’re sure the “I’m in love with you and have been since sixth grade” will come tumbling out, but even the fear of that happening doesn’t overpower the overwhelming desire to help the man you’re madly in love with.

There’s a limit to what would be forsaken in the name of Iwaizumi Hajime’s happiness, but your sanity isn’t it.

The situation worsens when the subtle shifting of the patrons behind you throws you off balance and forces you impossibly closer to him. The shuffling of feet knocks into your own, tilting you off balance despite your leaning against Hajime. A rebuttal is on the tip of your tongue ready to be released in rapid-fire when Hajime beats you to it. 

He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, allowing your unsteady feet to find balance against his lean body of stone, clutching you tightly to his side as if the accidental push against you were a personal offense. 

The protective nature that so often lies dormant in his personality rears its head forward and you swear your heart stops beating altogether. 

“Easy,” he mutters, a layer of strict dismay interweaving in his words as he casts a pointed side glare at the two boys standing behind you. You hardly hear it, much too occupied with trying not to drown in the sudden flooding of his cologne in your nostrils. 

Musk and spice. His usual scent, but even more addicting when it’s this close. 

This is a bad idea. This is a horrible, bad, awful idea. Bad, bad, bad idea.

You have to end this. You won’t survive this. 

“C-contract.” You, somehow, manage to spit out, shaking your head free from the waft of his scent and the strength of his arm across your back. 

Okay, not necessarily ending this but protecting yourself. Yeah, that’s it. Because there is no way you want him to keep acting like this, no. You’re just doing this to help and totally not to selfishly indulge in the delight of being his, even if it is fake. 

He tears his narrowed eyes away from the boys behind you to glance at you, the remnants of disapproval flickering in the sea of green that you swear only evens out when he looks at you, “Right. What’s in this contract?”

“The, uh, basics,” you begin, voice slowly finding its footing after the intense whiplash you just experienced. You're surprised you can even form words that aren’t resembling proclamations of desire, “What we can and can’t do, how long this is for, and so on.”

“That’s a good idea,” He breathes out. The line shifts forward, and the cashier finally enters the field of view. With a quick recoil, as though his skin were burned by the action, he removes his hand from around your waist. The warmth of his arm rescinds with it, and that thirteen-year-old girl that has fantasized for years about this, whines in desperation. You quickly tell her to shut up.

He clears his throat, awkwardness filling the cramped and stale air, “Uh, sorry. About that.”

He avoids your eyes and you quickly look around too, “It’s fine.”

A silence ensues. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, but it’s a far cry from the brief pauses in conversation that usually occur between the two of you. The comfortable silences that occur naturally between friends of five years. You wonder if you should address it, address the fact that if you two were to pull this off— and pull it off well— there were going to be more moments when he was going to have to touch you like that. 

He was going to have to hold your hand and give you frequent hugs and actually act like he was in love with you. Act. 

You swallow at the prospect. Not like that would be hard for you to do, you think rather pitifully.

There are two more couples in front of you when you say, “I’d like to institute the first provision.”

Hajime quirks an eyebrow, his lips lifting upward, an obvious sign of gratefulness at being able to brush over that weird moment of physicality. He doesn’t know why it was instinctual, or why he even thought that placing his hand that low around your waist would be a good idea. But, he did it; And it’s quite the revelation when he realizes he didn’t mind it. 

At all.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He glances at you to his right, the teasing smile gracing your features and the recognizable glint of mischief in your eyes. 

“You have to buy all of the food we eat together.”

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “I already buy all of our food.”

“I always pay you back!”

“You owe me at least three-thousand yen.”

“Okay, an addendum to provision one.”

“Shoot.”

“You buy all of our food and forgive my debts.”

He laughs louder tilting his head back as his teeth peek from his pink lips. It’s the bark of laughter that swells your beating heart with confidence. You may not have him romantically, but there’s no denial of the fact that he likes you in his life, especially when you can make him laugh like that, “I’m starting to think this contract is only beneficial to you.”

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, the body still tucked tightly beside his as feet shuffle forward in the line, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m doing you a huge favor.”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” A silence befalls again, this one not as tense as before. A small smile plays on his lips and there’s a sincerity behind his gaze that reminds you of how appreciative he really is for this. Hajime isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to repay you for stepping in and helping him in the most intimate of ways that you most likely would rather not do. There wasn’t ever an expressed interest in the dating scene from you, always denying the occasional confession that came your way and never thinking twice about the romantic holidays that come and go.

He wonders why because if you tried, you’d have every guy within a ten-foot radius begging for your attention. Surely one of them would be worthy of your love. (He doesn’t agree though. There’s no one in this world who could ever be worthy of you. Not when you smile so brightly and tease so enticingly. No one would ever deserve that part of you. No one that he would ever approve of, anyway..) He’s not dumb in realizing that your willingness to engage in a romantic relationship with him— even if it is a fake one— is a large deviation from the norm. It’s not something to be taken lightly.

So, he owes you. Big time. Whatever you want, whatever you put in this contract, he’ll do. He’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. 

(Fake boyfriend, he has to remind himself. He swallows down the disappointment.)

“Thank you.” he breaks the silence, rubbing the back of his heating neck, “Again. For doing this for me. I don’t—”

“Ah, ah!” You interrupt, holding your hand upwards and wagging a finger at him, “I haven’t done anything yet, so don’t start thanking me so soon. Who knows? I might sabotage this whole thing, be the worst girlfriend you could ever imagine.” 

 The couple in front of you finishes their order, stepping to the side to allow the both of you forward. You step up, dragging him with you but you don’t miss the low throaty chuckle he emits when he says, “You like me too much to do that.”

He pats the top of your head, smoothing the fly-away hairs with a wink and a sly smile, and then, like nothing even happened, he steps up to the counter, taking the initiative and placing your usual orders. There’s both too much nuance and not enough to his statement to determine if you should be scared at his words. Does he know? Did Oikawa tell him?

You don’t even notice when he puts both food items on one bill. 

It’s then that you remember, with little humor like someone who’s forgotten a necessary step to an important project, that while you’ve done a lot of growing and building these past four years to fortify the walls of your heart, so has he. He’s stronger, more confident, more sturdy. 

Fourteen-year-old you built the walls for a fourteen-year-old Iwaizume Hajime. She didn’t even think to consider the damage eighteen-year-old Ace and Vice-Captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team could do. Not with a spike those strong arms could make and a sea of green that you still drown in.

The first large crack in the barriers has been made. 

He turns to face you upon finishing the order, stepping to the side and bracing his body against the far wall of the restaurant to allow the next customers to the counter. That damn sly smile is still on his face, and it’s then you realize that he has to know. He has to know what he’s doing, or at least know that it’s doing something to you.

“So,” he tucks his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants, biceps bulging at the action “tell me about this contract, sweet girlfriend of mine.”

end notes: god damn glad that’s over. what did yall think?? too much? not enough? lemme know! i love reading all of your tags and comments, it fills me with such happiness :))))

tag list: @bruh-kill-me @owlnymph @airybnb @yukiilu-personal @cathwritestragediesnotsins @berna-dette​

[remsmoonlight]

— title : glitter in the sky

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : loki x reader

— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide

— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness

         ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? nope　/   requests are open  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha

Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.

Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.

Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.

In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only  ⎯  for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.

“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “

The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.

“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.

“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.

Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.

“ oh, shut up! “

You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.

It’s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.

“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.

You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.

“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “

Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.

“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.

“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “

You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.

“ Loki, what’s wrong? “

“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.

Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.

“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “

A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.

“ tell me. “

Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.

“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “

“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?

“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.

“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “

Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.

He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.

“ so why do it then? “

“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “

Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.

“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “

Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.

“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.

“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.

“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “

“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.

“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.

“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “

“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “

His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.

“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.

A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.

“ you heard me correctly. “

Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.

All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.

“ do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “

The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.

“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “

“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “

You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.

“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.

“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.

“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “

He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.

“ Perhaps one day. “

Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?