#which is weird ive only had it for like two hours

[vestaldestroyer]

wearing a corset today might have been a bad idea

[al-luviec]

compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)

meh HoT gifs (3/?)

[redwoodforestwiki]

i cant believe im breaking my not using tumblr streak for this but its 4am and im so emotionally bamboozled by yesterday i cant sleep

im just so PERPLEXED and CONFUSED like im just overthinking everything i guess but what was THAT like am i crazy. am i CRAZY. probably but the question is if i am what do i do about it

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[copperbadge]

How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at copperbadge@gmail.com. GOOD LUCK!

[icumpinkglitterxo]

daddy 🎀

a/n: i sort of rushed this and idk if the smut is good or not...now that ive done a daddy slash fic. subby slash (aka biblically accurate slash) comes next 😈 enjoy ★

warnings: smut, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), daddy kink, age gap, overstim, praise, aftercare :3

You and London were friends. You were best friends, you knew each other because his dad, Slash, was best friends with your dad, Duff and you had been friends your whole lives. You and London hung out all the time, sometimes at your place with your sisters, Grace, and Mae, other times at his place where you would see Slash.

Slash would always welcome you into his home, and he would comfort you during the few times something made you upset around him. He took care of you. You couldn't deny your crush on Slash, but he was way older, so you tried your best to ignore it.

You were at London's, and you were both in his room watching a movie. This was quite a regular occurance. You would always plan to do something exciting, only to stay in eating take-out and watching movies.

Eventually, he started to get tired, so he turned it off and went to sleep.

Like always, he told you you could sleep in his bed with him or in the guest room. Neither of you minded which. You were both comfortable enough with each other that sharing a bed wasn't weird, and sometimes you both just preferred your own space, and neither of you were afraid to admit that.

Tonight, you were too lazy to go to the guest bedroom, but that became a problem when you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned for hours. So much London had to kick you.

At around 2am, you decided to get up and go downstairs, thinking Slash would be asleep. Even so, you still tried to be quiet going down. You got to the bottom and went towards the living room. The living room didn't have a door, but a doorframe that was maybe slightly bigger than two doors.

All the lights were out, the only light coming from a movie playing in the living room. Slash was awake. You panic internally and decide to turn back and go back upstairs, but Slash had already heard the floorboards creaking.

"Y/N?" He calls out quietly. You shuffle into the room nervously. He looks up at you, seeming unbothered, "what'cha doing up so late?" You mumble, "...couldn't sleep."

He doesn't reply. Instead, he just pats the seat beside him, silently inviting you to watch the rest of the movie with him. You sat down nervously, keeping a distance between you. You both sit silently for a while, just watching the movie. You had been moving slightly closer to him until your shoulders were touching. He noticed, but he didn't say anything at first. He just wrapped an arm around you.

You felt your face heat up. You looked up at him. His focus was on the movie.

Suddenly, you felt a wave of confidence. You didn't care that he was older. You didn't care that he was your best friends dad. You didn't care that he was your dads best friend. You wanted him. More than anything.

You get up from where you were sitting and sit on his lap, facing him. His hands immediately go to your waist. He looks up at you, "what'cha doing, princess?" You felt butterflies in your stomach. It took every ounce of courage in you to keep going and not break down crying from embarrassment.

"please..."

You barely mumble, but it was enough for Slash. His hand slid into your shorts, brushing against your clit through your panties. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders slightly. He pulls your shorts and panties down. You lift your hips to help him get them off, and he throws them carelessly on the floor when he does. He spreads his legs slightly so youre sitting on his thigh.

You slowly start grinding against his thigh, digging your nails into his shoulders harder. His hands still on your waist help you grind harder against him. He thrusts his knee up in time with your grinds.

He watches as moans and whimpers spill out of you, "so pretty, just for me," he coos.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, "fuck, feels so good!" You moan. He brings a hand down and starts playing with your clit. Your legs start shaking. He smirks, "gonna be a good girl and cum for daddy?" You moan loudly, "fuck, yes! Oh fuck I'm gonna cum!" He kisses your neck, "yeah? gonna cum for daddy?" He slides two fingers into your needy hole, thrusting them in and out, matching your grinds.

Your back arches, and you moan even louder, "fuck, daddy- hah- I-i can't take it! I'm-i'm gonna cum!" He moves his fingers faster, watching you come completely undone by him, "cum for me baby, show me how much you love it."

Your eyes roll back as you cum, soaking his jeans and babbling random begs and pleas. He keeps rubbing your clit in circles, milking your orgasm, "thats it, good girl." You feel yourself twitching from the overstimulation, "fuck! please, daddy!"

Once you come down from your high, your body relaxes. He pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, "you taste heavenly, princess." You whine in response. He brings his hand down, flicking your clit every now and then just to hear you whimper or see your body twitch.

After letting you catch your breath, he stands up, keeping a grip on you. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck. He grabs your shorts and panties and carries you up to his bedroom. He throws your panties in the laundry basket and gently lays you down on the bed. "What're you doing?" He looks at you, confused, "I'm taking care of you, darling. What else?" You furrow your eyebrows, "but why?"

He chuckles, "I might be older than you, but I'm no stranger to aftercare, sweetheart," he says as he walks into his en suite bathroom. You hear the tap running, and then it goes silent. He comes back into the room with a damp cloth in his hands. He comes over to you and gently cleans the mess between your legs. You shudder slightly at the coldness.

He slides your shorts back on. You smile tiredly. He pulls the covers around you and kisses your forhead. "You need anything?" You shake your head.

He changes out of his clothes and into boxers and an old t-shirt. He gets into bed beside you. He pulls you close, and you inhale, taking in his scent. Really, he just smelt like the cologne he wore, but you found it intoxicating. You made a mental note to try and steal the t-shirt he was currently wearing before you went home.

You feel yourself getting tired, but then the events of tonight start replaying in your head. How good he made you feel, how warm you felt when he started taking care of you- then you get a gut-wrenching feeling. You were falling for him. Was this bad? Was this wrong? You can't have a relationship with him. Right...? What would people think? What would London think? What would your dad think? You clear your head for now, realising that Slash most likely thought of this as a one-time thing. You close your eyes and slowly drift off.

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 9 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

part ix (snowed in)

When Tomura gets back to his desk, there’s a present waiting for him. Tomura’s Secret Santa doesn’t need REMEDIAL GIFT-WRAPPING, which means he can rule out anyone who was there as a suspect. Tomura peels open the wrapping paper and finds a pair of gloves – and a note. With the gifts, there’s always a note, and the notes have been getting longer. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they have more to say to him than they used to. Tomura’s weird enough that he likes the notes almost as much as he likes the gifts.

Dear Tomura, this one reads. I know I’m off-list again, but I saw these and they reminded me of you. A lot of the things I see remind me of you, but I think you’d be freaked out if I bought you most of them. I kind of want to ask Toga to ask you what you think of what you’ve gotten. If I’ve missed something obvious. Or if you’ve thought of other things you’d like since you made your list.

Tomura’s thought of other things, yeah. The problem is, he’s usually only thought of them after he’s opened a gift from his Secret Santa that has one of those things in it. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they’re good at this. Better than him, even if he knows how to wrap presents now. He keeps reading the note. I’d like to say I got the gloves in advance, but if I’m being honest, they’re extra. I saw the storm in the forecast and I thought about how cold it already gets down in the basement. I can think of better ways to keep your hands warm, but this is probably the most practical. Merry almost Christmas! Yours, your Secret Santa.

The gloves are lightweight when Tomura puts them on, but warm and soft on the inside – and they’re touchscreen gloves, so Tomura won’t have to take them off to use his tablet or his phone. They’re exactly right, just like all the other gifts Tomura’s Secret Santa has gotten him, but even as he folds the note and tucks it away in the same place he’s kept the others, he keeps getting stuck on the idea of other ways to warm his hands.

It’s fucking freezing in the basement, and it’s empty, even though it’s technically still work hours. Did everybody else just bail after the gift-wrapping thing?  If nobody else is here, Tomura’s not sticking around, either. He packs up his stuff and heads upstairs. Maybe he can get home before this storm or whatever it is kicks up in earnest. But when Tomura gets to the lobby, he finds out that he’s missed his window. The sky’s already darkened, and the parking lot is already covered in a layer of snow.

Tomura waited too long. If he hadn’t stuck around to wrap gifts with you – but even as he has the thought, he realizes that he doesn’t regret it even a little bit. It’s worth it, even if it means that he has to trudge through snow to the train station. You take the train home from work, too, don’t you? Tomura knows you had more work to do after the two of you finished the gifts. You told him so. What if you’re still here?

Your part of the office doesn’t have windows. Maybe you haven’t seen what the weather’s like. Tomura turns away from the front doors and heads back into the building to give you a heads-up.

You look surprised to see him, when he gets to your desk – but you aren’t unhappy. “Hey. Did you find, um – what are those?”

“The gloves? Secret Santa gift.” Tomura looks around your desk, trying to see if the gift he left you is anywhere. “Did you open yours?”

“Do you like them?”

“I’m wearing them.” If Tomura didn’t like them, he’d have put them in his desk and forgotten about them. He spots the stapled-shut paper bag he left for you this morning sticking out of your backpack. “Do you not like opening yours in front of people?”

“I was saving it so I’d have something to open tomorrow,” you say. “I heard somebody say that the office might be closed because of the storm.”

The snow. Right. There was a reason Tomura came up here, and it wasn’t just so he could see you again. “It’s already snowing. We should go now if we don’t want the trains to stop running on us.”

You look surprised. “You came to get me?”

“You take the train, too,” Tomura says. He doesn’t get why you’re looking at him like that. “We can walk together.”

“Okay,” you say. You smile at him, and Tomura’s face flushes badly enough that he actually considers covering it with his hands. “I’ll get my stuff.”

The weather looked bad when Tomura was just watching it through the doors, but once the two of you actually get out in it, Tomura realizes that it’s even worse than he thought. It’s the stupid wind. It keeps changing direction, blasting snow and ice crystals into his face no matter which way he looks, and the hood of his coat won’t stay up. His ears are freezing, even though his hair is covering them. It’s not a long walk to the train station, but Tomura knows he’ll have a splitting headache by the time he gets there.

“Here.” You’re wearing a hat and a scarf, and you take off the hat and offer it to Tomura. Tomura tries to say no, but you put it on him anyway, tugging it down over his ears. “I’m not the one who hates the cold.”

You’re right, but something about it strikes Tomura as weird. “How’d you know I hate the cold?”

“Everybody knows that.”

Tomura’s pretty sure everybody doesn’t. If they did, he’d get a lot more ironic let-it-snow shit from his friends around Christmas. There’s only one place you could have heard that, which means that you either know who his Secret Santa is – or it’s you. “Where did you hear that?”

“Sorry?” You’re rewrapping your scarf, pulling it up over your face. “Couldn’t hear you. The wind is really loud.”

The wind is loud and it’s getting worse. Tomura can ask you again once you’re at the train station and out of the weather. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

You and Tomura started out walking side by side. By the time you approach the train station, you’re walking pressed close together, your hand grasping Tomura’s arm, Tomura leaning into you as much as he can without falling over. Part of him feels stupid about it. You’re not fighting your way through a blizzard or something. The rest of him is too happy with it to care. His ears are warm and he’s wearing warm gloves that he got from his Secret Santa who might be you, and you decided you wanted to hold his arm without him doing anything. In spite of the weather, Tomura can’t count this as anything but a win.

The station platform is empty when you get there, and Tomura feels a hit of foreboding even before he sees that every arrival screen is flashing the same message. “Out of service?”

You fumble your phone out of your pocket, almost dropping it. “They just shut down. We missed it by five minutes.”

Fuck. “We can’t stay out here,” Tomura says, and you nod. You don’t have gloves. Your hands are shaking. “We should go back to the office.”

“They have to keep the heat on so the pipes don’t freeze,” you say. “And we can probably get the lights back on even if Maintenance turned them off.”

Tomura’s pretty sure Maintenance left before the two of you did. You were the last ones still in the building. Everybody else left because of the storm, and if Tomura had just left instead of going back to tell you, he’d have been on the last train home – and you’d have been stuck at the office in bad weather, by yourself. Tomura doesn’t like thinking about it. He doesn’t like thinking about it so much that even if he’d known for a fact that going back to get you would have meant he’d be snowed in with you, he’s sure he’d have gone anyway.

He waits for you to put your phone away, then grabs your hands in his gloved ones. “Do you want your hat back?”

“It looks better on you,” you say. There’s nothing on the planet that would look better on Tomura than on you, and Tomura almost says so, except the way you’re looking at him is enough of a distraction that he can’t get the words out in the right order. “Come on. Let’s get back before it gets worse.”

It’s already worse on the way back. There’s more snow on the ground and more ice crystals whipping around in the air, and Tomura’s shivering on every step. You aren’t walking with your hand on his arm anymore. This time you’ve got your arm wrapped around him, even though you’re shorter than he is, holding on tight as the two of you shuffle along. Tomura wants to get inside and out of the wind more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. And at the same time, he’s dreading the second when you’ll let him go.

<- part viii part x ->

[squad-724]

Crosshair’s first day in the Pabu Sea Sanctuary part 2

Part 1

Once again written by the amazing @pinetree-tbb

Crosshair did not realize that he let out quiet whines and high pitched whistles while asleep. He didn’t realize he was sobbing. All he knew was that he was in pain

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"You shouldn't have grabbed him so hard." Echo told his brother.

"Well, I couldn't just let him go over, you saw how hurt he is."

"He slammed right into the edge of the wall!"

"Not so loud!" Fives hissed "If he finds out we are here, he's probably never gonna rest!" The twins sat at the far end of the pond, hiding behind a few plants, looking to the stones where the eel mer burrowed himself under.

"All I'm saying is, that you could have been a bit gentler..."

"... sorry." From where they hid, they could hear the painful little whines from their new friend, Echo feeling a deep sorrow for him. "Come on, let's talk to the others." Fives chirped and with a few strokes of their tails they broke the water surface, Phee, Kix and Riyo already waiting.

"Hey boys" Phee greeted them and knelt down in the sand "He is still in the pool, right?" They nodded, sitting up in the water and Fives moved his hands to talk

'He burrowed himself under a pile of rocks at the bottom... He's hurt... very hurt.' The humans looked into the water.

"We have to get him to eat somehow..." Kix mumbled "He’s very thin, if he doesn't gain weight again soon, he will die of starvation and malnutrition. And I really don’t want to forcefully sedate him for an IV or feeding tube."

"I don't think he's gonna accept the food we provide, he seems very stubborn." Riyo noted.

"Idea." Echo's synthesizer suddenly voiced out. They all looked at him, he just smiled back and pushed the device again, which voiced out another "Idea."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Crosshair passed out after a while and fell into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke again he could smell something delicious. It was early morning, the sky only starting to brighten, and the eel mer tasted the water again. It was mostly tinged with the metallic scent of his own blood, but under it he smelled something different... something... tempting. A bit of sunlight shone through a tiny hole by the entrance of his burrow. He dug a bit of sand away to have a look at the outside of his hideout. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that, at an arm's length away from where he was curled up, sat two fish wrapped together in seaweed and with a stone attached on top to weigh them down.

He felt a stabbing pain in his stomach, but resisted the urge to go out and take it. It was obviously a trap, in which the humans probably put something in to make him lose consciousness or strength to recapture him. So Crosshair only narrowed his eyes, put his ears back and withdrew, shoving the sand up to close the hole again.

After a while, he didn't know if it had been minutes or hours, the smell of fresh fish filled the water again and he looked up. There was a hole in the sand with daylight shining through it. Which was weird, he knew he covered the entrance fully. Someone must have made that hole, which means that he was not alone in the pool. Crosshair moved, hissing slightly as the pain rushed through his entire body with every motion, removed a handful of sand and peeked outside.

There was another pair of fish next to the ones before, the new ones floating much closer to his burrow than the previous ones, but he just shoved the sand back up. With the painful growls of his stomach he fell asleep to wake up when the sun was already setting. He did not feel any better after rest, no, his wounds felt like they were stinged by a jellyfish and then alcohol was rubbed on them. He felt so nauseous he would probably throw up if his stomach wasn’t empty already. When he was finally able to open his eyes he noticed that once again, there was a tiny hole in the entrance of his hideout under the rocks.

Crosshair dragged his body to the opening to look outside again and saw a third pair of fish, directly in front of him. He was hungry, very hungry. He did not know how long he hadn't been eating. But he won't even touch this. With a quick flick of his tail he pushed the fish away and covered the entrance again. He had to get out of here, he had to find his brothers, he had to make a plan... But his pain and hunger woudln’t let him think straight.

Crosshair hadn’t slept the whole night, feeling the agony of his sunburned back and sand filled cuts. The scent of freshly killed fish didn’t help either, tempting and baiting him. He let out a huff, he was so hungry… He put his cheek on the blissfully cold rocks and continued to drift in and out of consciousness.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"He still won't eat them." Crosshair shot up startled, eyes fixed on the entrance, when did someone get so close without him noticing?! He heard more clicking and whistling, two separate voices.

"He probably thinks it's poisoned or something."

"You think this is gonna work Echo?" The voices swam nearer and Crosshair pressed himself in the back of his hole, his burns and cuts stinging by the movement.

"I know it will," He saw a clawed finger stick through the entrance, leaving behind a little hole, the morning light shining through. Was it morning already? "Just give him time." After that, the voices disappeared, outside quiet once again. Crosshair peeked out again and sure there they were, directly before the hole. Two fish wrapped in seaweed, weighed down with a stone. He considered for a moment, but then turned his back and shoved the sand up again with his tail.

Part 3

[justalildumpling]

chapter 26: my soulmate

wc: 0.6k

If Jeno was going to be completely honest, he had no fucking clue what he was doing — partially due to acting upon his fight or flight response when you had mentioned the whole girlfriend ordeal. 

It wasn’t like he had never thought about making the two of you official (who was he kidding, he thought about it almost every day). But as a certified simp and part-time samoyed puppy, he wanted everything to be perfect, and if perfect meant standing on an empty beach digging up a pretty pathway and scattering rose petals for the past three hours, he would do it.

It had been around half an hour since he had texted you to come to this very specific beach — which he spent every minute anxiously fiddling with the bouquet of roses in one hand and fixing his wind-swept locks in the other. However, when he spotted your car pull up next to the boardwalk, he realised that he was not prepared for this moment, especially seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you met his gaze.

There was a little cute skip in your step as you hurriedly down the steps and to his position on the beach, your white cocktail dress dancing in the wind and the corners of your lips gradually rising as you got closer. 

Jeno could almost see the wedding arches and bells in the background, almost dropping the bouquet on the sandy surface as his hands instinctively reached out to hold you in some way.

“Jeno, what’s with all this?” You squealed, receiving the roses from his shaky grasp.

It was tranquil in that moment for the boy, with the girl of his dreams inhabiting the most beautiful smile and sharing the sweetest gaze with his little self, like all anxieties had washed away with his eyes crinkling into crescent moons and the words of “Will you accept to be my soulmate Y/N?” tumbling out of his lips without a second thought.

Your mouth parted for a split second, eyes hammering with a sense of shock and delight before a soft look adorned your face, “You finally accepted the soulmate request huh?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Who says we can’t be both twin flames and soulmates?” 

You smiled, placing the bouquet on the sand before enclosing your arms around his neck, “Maybe we can test that theory,” you leaned closer into his ear, whispering the next few words, “I heard that if you kiss me and the world doesn’t blow up, we were made for each other.” 

Jeno could only chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re always full of surprises aren't you?” 

“Well, clearly you liked the suspense so now we’re here aren't we?” 

You scrunched your nose in glee, your giggles tickling his lips before he closed the gap. It almost felt like a scene out of a movie, with the waves crashing into the sand not too far into the distance and the rose petals once scattered neatly onto the path circling their figures from the wind and most importantly you, the way your laughs sounded so melodic in his ears, your perfect smile glistening in the golden sunlight and how he could finally call you his. 

Jeno didn’t vibe with chaos and unpredictability. But weirdly enough, the suspense and wrecking ball of events you had brought into his boring old life he found himself compelled to. And for the first time, he found himself agreeing with Chenle and his weird beliefs of the universe because a part of him began thinking that he had indeed found his soulmate, his other half, his twin flame.

masterlist || previous | next 

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other, so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack

warnings: swearing

note: sorry for the delayed and short updateKAEBFOWWGBW ive been sick for the past week and been stuck in the worst writers block ever😭 but GUYSSSS the finale's next week can u believe it????

taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))) ~ @babyjenono @btssf9nct @baekksore @411star @jenyoonoh @igotkpoops @calumsmut @hs825 @liliansun @raikea10 @loveleejn @luv4jeno @rosabella1009 @ismileeprnc-responder @jenoists @222brainrot @sexygrass @culterycollector @kikookii @minkyuncutie @mrsyixingunicorn10 @tytrackfebreze @sehunniepot @choi-beomgyulvr @jaeminnanaaa17 @multifandomania06 @aerislovjeno @spilled-coffee-cup @artstaeh @tddyhyck @jeongintwt @aerivrs

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[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Blackouts

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Reader

Requested✨ (as a comment in a previous post)

@lolihaveaproblem

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): None!

Not proofread!

—————————————

“This is so stupid!”

“Well if you hadn’t blown all your money, you wouldn’t be losing this bad.”

“Jack, you idiot.”

“I don’t wanna play this any more. You guys cheated.”

It’s all Ive heard all evening. When the boys at the lake house asked me to oversee monopoly, I did not think it would be this hectic. Or heated. It was Monopoly.

To be fair though, I did learn quite a bit about the Hughes and their friends.

Quinn was silently competitive, and I had definitely seen him slipping Luke some money here and there under the coffee table. I only let it slide because I was rooting for the youngest brother. I learned Cole was incredibly good with his money. Maybe a little stingy, but he was definitely a saver. Trevor didn’t give two shits. He was playing just for the hell of it, spending here and there and everywhere, but still managing to stay out of debt or bankruptcy, and Luke just seemed to have a natural knack for the game.

My beloved Jack was trying to do Trevor’s method, but luck was not on his side. He was owing people money he did not have. He was all over the place. He was a financial nightmare. I kept it in mind in case of the day you both get married. Any conjoined bank accounts would certainly have a pin or password he would not know.

“It’s a little late to quit now. Might as well stay in.” Quinn tried to reason.

“With my one property? Hell no.” Jack quickly stood up from the floor. I was not the only person who winced at the crack in his back. “Trevor can have it.”

Trevor, who somehow seemed to be the richest and luckiest.

“Oh fuck yes!” I giggled at Trevor’s excitement.

I would say I had more fun overseeing monopoly than Risk. When the boys decided to play that, I had to take headache medication due to all the yelling. They took that strategy game quite seriously. Again, except for Trevor. Who had a weird obsession with Australia, and overpopulated it with his troops.. and somehow ended up winning the game after two days of on and off playing.

There had been a lot of F-bombs there. A lot of negotiations. A lot of snack breaks. The second time it was brought out to play, halfway through day three, one of the boys got so tense they flipped the board.

The NATO of hockey players did not enjoy that.

Sometimes I played board games with them, but other times I really did enjoy watching them bicker and argue.

Throw Throw Burrito was another I enjoyed to watch. From a safe distance. Considering the main concept of the game was to throw foam burritos at one another. Some of the welts those boys left the table with amazed me. But I hadn’t laughed harder than the time Trevor got hit in between the legs. The speed with which everybody scattered, was highly amusing.

They didn’t play board games often at the lake house, but seeing as we were in the midst of a three hour power outage, and phones were on their last percentages, everybody was desperately looking for something to do.

“Babe, come on.” Jack mumbled, ever the sore loser. I looked up at him from the couch, his face illuminated by the many candles we had burning. Fucking scented candles that had the house smelling like too many things at once.

“I don’t know, Jack. Last time I left a board game unmonitored the whole thing was flipped.” I commented. I knew what I was doing, and as soon as the words left my mouth, the uprising of displeasure from that memory came in the form of new arguments and accusations about who it was that had flipped their poor game of Risk. Jack chuckled softly. I swiftly climbed over the arm of the couch, seeing as boys were sitting at the foot of it all gathered about the coffee table.

“They’re never gonna get over that.” Jack mumbled as he grabbed my hand. I was swift to snatch up one of the candles before he led me down the hall to his room.

“Not my problem. I still have my money on Cole.” I whispered in response. We both snickered softly, and I winced at the sound of another outburst. Trevor yelling about money missing. Looks like they caught Quinn and all his laundering.

“So, Rowdy,” I began with a playful smile as we wandered down the hall. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“I don’t know. There’s gotta be something in this house to do.” Jack shrugged. I smiled at his cluelessness.

Once we got back into his room, I pushed the door shut behind myself. I opened his blinds and watched the rain pelt the windows, gently biting my bottom lip. Jack swiftly snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my body.

“Watch out baby,” I whispered, holding the candle out.

“Sorry.” Jack’s mumbled apology made me smile.

“Come on, Jack-O.” I tried to make my way to his tall dresser, but seeing as he wasn’t letting go, we both waddled our way over together. I set the candle down on top of the safe area, slowly turning in his arms to get a good look at Jack’s face.

“You think my mom and dad are okay?” His question caught me off guard.

“I have a strong feeling they’re more than fine.” I assured him, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Probably having a more peaceful night than we are.” I added playfully, just in time to hear another shout and a loud bang. I winced. Somebody was beating the table now.

As much as I claimed to hate the noise, the silence in the lake house was often worse than that. Especially in the evenings. I got so used to the noise that the silence began to feel eerie. Like something was incredibly wrong.

“Can’t do movies, not enough phone power to play games. Not enough light to read.” I mumbled thoughtfully. “I have hair dye in the bathroom.”

Jack seemed to really consider the idea before shaking his head.

“Okay. Makeovers?”

He shrugged.

“Wanna watch me try on lingerie?” He lit up like a kid on Christmas. It was a cruel joke, but alas, I had no lingerie to try on, and I was not going to resort to seduction at a time like this. Not when something could go worse with the weather. The last thing I wanted to do was be huddled up in the basement with my boyfriend and his brothers and friends, in a less than appropriate outfit.

“Sorry for the false hope,” I apologized with a smile. Jack groaned.

“I’ll play mini sticks with you.” I finally offered, and Jack shrugged before deciding that was good enough.

“I’ll go get ‘em.” He was out of his room and back within a minute, two tiny little plastic nets in hand, a ball, and two sticks. I giggled softly. Even in the off season, we couldn’t escape hockey.

By the foot of his bed, Jack set up one net on one side of the room, and a net on the other. We quickly got situated on the floor before Jack slid a stick in my direction. I felt incredibly silly, but anything to pass the time at this point.

“You know the rules?” He asked, and I nodded.

“Same as normal hockey.” I checked. Jack smiled at me before he tossed the foam ball in my direction.

“Loser has to eat the melted nasty ice cream on the counter.” Jack made the condition. I grimaced. How disgusting. But once I agreed, we faced off, and our game began.

I could not say I was surprised near the end of the game, when we took an ‘intermission’ and I found I had holes in my leggings. Jack and I had played quite an aggressive game of knee hockey. Despite the fact that he tried to enforce penalties, he quickly gave up when I reasoned that he couldn’t be in charge of them. Especially when he kept grabbing the back of my shirt to keep me from getting too close to his goal.

The Hughes brothers were always cheating to win in some kind of minor game.

We’d laughed and yelled, pushed each other over and played with no mercy. But it was 9-9, and I seriously did not want to eat the warm ice cream. I figured if Jack had cheated, then I could play dirty too. So when I had the foam ball in my own possession, I rushed Jack, who was trying to play defense in the middle of the floor.

We made eye contact at the last second when I moved my stick into both hands -acting as though I planned to cross check him- and pressed my weight against his chest, shoving him onto the floor and effectively pinning him down.

Jack broke into a fit of laughter as I climbed on top of him.

“That’s a penalty,” he tried. I laughed and shook my head.

“Your mom is.”

I was swift to tap the puck into his net with my stick.

“And I win.” Jack was still laughing at the ‘your mom’ joke when he actually registered his loss. The poor brunette craned his neck to see the goal, his expression dropping with realization.

“What? You cheated!”

I leaned forward while he was busy complaining.

“You’ve been cheating since we started this game. I’d just accept my loss and get ready to eat shitty ice cream, Hughes.” I was quick to kiss him before I stood up, dropping my stick on his chest for effect.

“I want a rematch!”

“Can’t, Jacky. I’m retired.” I’d certainly give him hell about this moment for the rest of our lives.

“Bullshit. One more game.” Jack finally sat up, staring up at me as he held my stick out.

“I can’t, buddy. Not pulling a Tom Brady. I’m retired, end of story.”

“This sucks.”

“Aww it’s okay. How’s about you just come to bed and we can cuddle for a bit instead of the ice cream.” Jack eyed me cautiously, seemingly trying to decide if it was another joke or not.

“I’m not making you eat warm ice cream, Jack.” My tone took on a much more serious sound before I held my hands out to him. “Just come lay with me.” He let me help him get up from the floor, dropping his own stick and nodding.

“Can’t believe you thought I was cruel enough to make you eat that,” I teased.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[femdomlieeh]

Notebook of a fool ✧ Xiaojun

BFF!Xiaojun ✧ Crush!Fem!Reader

WC—3.8 ✧ k

WARNING—anxiety ✧ heartbreak ✧ crying ✧ pet names

THEMES—sfw ✧ light angst ✧ future fluff (?) ✧ best friend au ✧ crush au

NOW PLAYING—OTT ✧ IVE

A/N. 누나 (nuna) = older sister

psst! Next update is a Beomgyu smut… probably my fav smut I’ve ever written

M.LISTS—wayv ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Today was one of those bad fucking days. One of those days when you can't find any positivity in anything. One of those days when you don't feel like talking to the people you love the most. One of those days when you just want to give up.

The first thing you saw in the morning was a notification of a text from your boyfriend. Looking at the white speech bubble is something you usually look forward to when you see Wonwoo's name bright up your screen, knowing he always has something entertaining to tell.

But this particular morning he said something you wish were a joke.

Wonwoo Boo💞

[ive been thinking lately and _____ i think we need a break]

Mommy🤠💦

[You're not going to tell me why?]

Seen 10:17

You asked him the first thing that came to your mind. He couldn't possibly just expect you to be OK with having a break without a reason, right?

After an hour you accepted the fact that he had left you on read and that he wasn't going to reply anytime soon.

Maybe it was because he called you _____.

He never called you by your name. Only your friends called you that. He was supposed to call you weird or cheesy pet names and nothing else! 

He left you with a headache. He left you with your bad thoughts and theories. Damn you, Wonwoo.

It was very human-like of you to be in a bad mood. Only a robot would feel nothing in this situation. The day wouldn't get any worse. You were going to make sure of it! Your mood may have been bad, but you weren't going to let anyone else get affected by it. Lashing out on innocent people because you don't feel good on the inside is something you hated doing.

Today you were going to hang out with your best friend, Xiaojun, have a picnic on a park next to the Han river. Xiaojun had packed a cute pink basket (that he had specifically bought for you two to use for picnics together since they happened at least thrice a month) which was filled with kimchi kimbap, green grapes, two clementines and some churro flavored chips and you had packed a large outdoor blanket so Xiaojun wouldn't have too much to carry. For almost a week you two hadn't met up and you both missed each other and wanted to make up for the days you had spent apart so of course you went for the nice, typical not-romantic-at-all picnic hang out session.

But no.

You weren't going to meet Xiaojun and ruin his parade with the rain cloud that was following you around wherever you went since you opened your eyes this dark morning. No, you weren't going to let the first time you two meet in such a long time be ruined by the sad news you got this ugly morning.

누나 🥰

[I can't hang out today, sorry]

Prince Junnie🦄

[why not?☹️]

누나 🥰

[I'm not feeling too well]

Prince Junnie🦄

[it's ok i'll make u some delicious soup😊]

누나 🥰

[No, you don't need to, I don't want you to get sick!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[but ive missed u sm☹️]

누나 🥰

[We'll meet another day I promise to make up for this!]

And so you put the phone gently on the table to lay on the sofa and binge watch some random show. You made sure to turn your phone off first since you knew you'd cut Wonwoo some slack in case you read any persuasive text from him — he's good with words and making you feel loved. Whilst you were looking through all the lists Netflix had created for you, which were filled with movies and series you either had already seen or weren't interested in, Xiaojun was still expectantly waiting for his screen to go bright.

She must be joking, he thought.

Unlike you, Xiaojun's morning had started out brilliant. From the moment he opened his eyes, he was smiling and full of energy, excited to hang out with you after not seeing you for five whole days. He had missed you. Spending time with you was one of his favorite hobbies! Since you two had picnics regularly you two had decided that you would take turns in deciding and packing the picnic basket and this time it was Xiaojun's turn! He had been so excited all week, planning out a shopping list days before. He had specifically purchased grapes this time because he had this fantasy of putting one in your mouth (which sounded weird, but it would feel intimate to feed you fruit) and also playing around and throwing grapes up in the air and catching them in the mouth. 

Needless to say, he liked you a little more than a best friend should and that was a bit of a problem. His friends kept telling him that it was stupid to spend so much time with you and that Xiaojun should either try to ignore his emotions or he should distance himself from you until he loses feelings, because it was unfair to hurt himself by giving himself false hopes of getting somewhere with a taken girl. 

And Xiaojun knew it. For so long, he'd known that it was a bad idea to like you. You didn't like him in the same way, and you even had a boyfriend for fuck's sake — and a really pretty one at that! But no matter how many red flags there were, he still wanted to spend everyday with you. He didn't want a week to go by without being with you. He wanted to cuddle with you on a picnic blanket. He wanted to kiss you when you visited photo booths. He wanted to share hoodies with you. He wanted to stay up late and talk until you two fell asleep in each others' arms. He wanted to be the only one you called Prince. 

Wondering why you called Xiaojun 'Prince' when you already were in a relationship with Wonwoo? Well, Prince had been Xiaojun's nickname before you even met Wonwoo (yes, you'd known Xiaojun longer than you'd known Wonwoo, yet you still found yourself in a relationship with the latter — or not anymore actually). And though your (then) boyfriend never liked it, you had convinced him it was just a friendly pet name. Because that's exactly what it was.

To you.

To Xiaojun it was the closest he'd ever feel to being your boyfriend. But you started using that pet name less and ever since Wonwoo came around and ruined everything more than it already was ruined. Xiaojun even had to change his contact name on your phone to include the word 'Prince' so you wouldn't forget to call him that.

He loathed Wonwoo.

Wonwoo was always the reason why you couldn't hang out with your bestfriend for too long, why you couldn't call him Prince on certain occasions and why you couldn't look at him as a potential boyfriend. Wonwoo was an attention thief. Not really. But it felt like it. Xiaojun was jealous of everything Wonwoo had with you.

Because your boyfriend obviously was a threat, Xiaojun felt like he needed even more of your validation than before (which was already a lot). He needed your attention. If you ignored him he'd think it was your way of telling him that you had left him completely for Wonwoo. Ridiculous! He shouldn't feel like you owe attention to him.

Your friendly fucking friendship was the closest thing Xiaojun had to being together with you in the way he really wanted, so he valued it a lot. Not having you as his girlfriend was painful enough, but not having you as even his friend would break him.

Right now you weren't validating your time together, nor your friendship — or at least it felt like it to Xiaojun. He always needed your attention and unlike normally, he wasn't getting it right now. His smile dropped and so did his excitement for the day.

Was this the end?

He knew that spending one week without each other would lead to more time for you to spend with your damn boyfriend but he didn't know it would lead to the end of your friendship. 

No way he'd bail on the picnic plans.

Prince Junnie🦄

[can i pls come over? i bought fruits for u<33 i'm sure fruits is exactly what u need right now!!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[idc if i get sick or not bc i still wanna hang out w u]

Prince Junnie🦄

[pls 누나]

Sent 11:33

You had ignored him only once before and it was a horrible experience.

The way you ignored him (on accident) was so hurtful that he had to leave the gathering that he had looked forward to for so long, confusing the other guests, to go and lock himself in a bathroom so he could cry without bothering anyone. You'd gone right after him since you knew it wasn't very Xiaojun-like to leave a fun time for no reason. After you had knocked on the door and reassured him you were his best friend and not a random person coming to make fun of him, he let you in the bathroom.

The sight you were met by was his crumbling figure on the floor and overflowing tears on his cheeks. He had thought that you wanted nothing to do with him. Stupid you didn't see the obvious signs. It was because of the fact that you hadn't paid any attention to him that Xiaojun had gotten the idea that you had grown bored of him or that you wanted to leave him for Wonwoo (he hadn't told you the latter part, of course). And weeks later you did get together with Wonwoo. And that made him cry himself to sleep for days which you never knew.

How much your lack of attention and affection for Xiaojun had affected him was scary. And a fucking sign, you idiot. Nobody gets so worked up over the loss of affection of someone they view as a friend. Ever since that incident you'd made sure to always remind him of how much you value your friendship.

Except for today.

He thought he had made it clear enough to you that you never ever should ignore him unless you really meant It. Unless you really wanted to part ways. To go from the bestest friends to cold acquaintances. Some people might think it's crazy to be this attached to a best friend but you weren't just his best friend. You were his love and happiness. Without you he didn't have either.

Five minutes passed since he triple texted you and he still had no reply. Slowly he felt how his tummy was turning into knots and how his eyes started stinging.

Prince Junnie🦄

[ur making me worried]

Prince Junnie🦄

[hey!! text me so ik u didn't die from choking on strawberry milk 누나😰]

Prince Junnie🦄

[r u ignoring me?🫠]

Prince Junnie🦄

[unless u have corona, meet me by the river at 6 if u care abt me. i need to talk to u abt smth important]

Sent 12:04

If you didn't show up he knew for sure that you had left him behind forever. If you did show up then he'd confess to you. So spontaneously he couldn't keep his feelings away from you for another year because it wasn't healthy and he knew it. He knew he would have to tell you about his feelings sooner or later. And after being without you for a whole ass week and after experiencing the cruel punishment that is being ignored and even thinking you broke your dear friendship off, he knew the time had come for him to finally woman up and confess.

Whilst he was anxiously thinking through why he made such a bold move and possibly ruined any future he had with you, the girl he loved was being lazy and stuffing her face in pillows in front of a TV.

one season of Bojack Horseman later...

Tossed between blankets and an overflow of pillows, your tummy roared like a lion. You hadn't eaten anything yet. Maybe it was time to do something other than numbing your feelings with Netflix and the drinks you had at home? As you stood up you felt heavy. You had moved maximum 100 meters in the past few hours — to go to the bathroom, then kitchen and back to the living room — and it had taken a toll on your body physically.

Fuck.

You sat back down on your sofa and brought your phone to view after hours without it.

[6 new messages from Prince Junnie🦄]

Fuck. The last message was sent so long ago. You looked at your windows. It was dark outside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. As fast as you physically could, you put on a pair of shoes and a jacket with your aching limbs.

In just a few minutes you were on your way to the closest bus station. The whole bus ride to the river was filled with thoughts putting you down. Your favorite person in the world was sensitive about this stuff and you hurt him. You were supposed to not let your bad mood affect anybody around you. But who were you kidding? Of course something had to go wrong with an idea you constructed and analyzed for four microseconds.

Before you knew it you had arrived at the destination. You were speed walking to the river. You two always went to the exact same spot by the river since it was usually vacant, by some miracle, and had a pretty view of a bridge.

You were naive enough to think that isolating yourself from your bestfriend and your phone would help solve your problems, so you were certainly naive enough to go and check if Xiaojun was still at your meeting place hours after you were supposed to meet him. What if he wasn't there? What if he was there?

The water was shimmering from the moonlight and next to it was a bench and an athletic, tall silhouette. Your eyes widened. Could it be...? Sniffles. That's the sound that came from their direction. You walked closer and could make out the lines of a figure that was all too familiar.

"Prince?"

The silhouette turned around and though it was dark you could see that it in fact was him. You quickly sat down beside him and noticed that a couple of notebooks were scattered on the ground next to a bike. You didn't know what to do, never having seen glad Xiaojun cry. After another particularly loud sniffle you turned your attention back to him. The light of the moon exposed the redness and tears on his face. For hours he'd been outside and his face was still wet with tears.

"Why are you still out at this hour?"

He choked on his tears and rested his face in his hands, "Because I'm a fool."

"No, you're not a—"

"Why are you here?" he interrupted you.

Touché.

"You told me to meet you if I care about you."

"You come here hours later as if I don't mean anything to you," he hurried out before his voice could crack.

"I'm sorry about that. But if I didn't care about you I wouldn't show up at all," you spoke with a soft tone. The last thing you wanted was to be harsh, especially since you were the reason your best friend was upset.

"Why did you do this to me, 누나?" he looked you in the eyes as if he'd find any answers inside them.

"I promise I didn't do it on purpose. I would never hurt you on purpose," you took his hands into yours, oblivious to how the simple gesture made Xiaojun a bit hopeful on the inside.

His hands were so cold it was shocking that he was shaking because of his crying and not because of the ice-like coldness. That's what happens when you're out for hours when there's no sun — or person — to keep you warm.

"I saw the messages 20 minutes ago and got here immediately. I would never purposely ignore you, Prince."

You made sure to use his nickname in almost every sentence you spoke, silently telling him that you don't want to fight. Slowly you brought his hands to your lips and kissed them lightly, five kisses on each hand for every finger. He looked at your lovely action and felt how his tears were slowing down. The kisses didn't make him warm — maybe for a second — but at least they made him feel somewhat better inside.

"I'm so, so sorry you had to be here in the cold," you apologized and kept his hands in yours as an attempt to warm them.

One part of Xiaojun wanted to continue being mad and make you feel bad for the hurt you'd caused him but the bigger part wanted you to hold him in your arms. He loved you and couldn't stay mad at you for long even if he tried.

"I-It's OK, 누나. At least you're here now," he whispered and looked at your locked hands, admiring the sight since it may never happen again — or maybe he should make sure his hands are cold more often—

You sent him a sorrowful smile and let his head rest on your shoulder, resting your own against it as an instinct, both from being comfortable and tired.

"From now on I will check if I have any texts every hour for you," you said with an exaggerated joking voice to lighten the mood.

He giggled. You weren't even being that funny but you were both tired and sad, so anything even a tiny bit funny was hilarious to both of you.

"What did you want to tell me before, Prince?" you whispered into his fluffy hair and petted it.

Should he tell you how he feels? Should he possibly ruin this? If he told you how he truly felt, would you ever kiss him hands like you did just now? Would you ever touch him this caringly ever again? Would you continue to call him Prince? Or would all of that be gone due to your loyalty to your sweet precious boyfriend Wonwoo?

For hours Xiaojun had been outside in the cold waiting for the love of his life so he could tell her the truth. But it took time before you, the love of his life, showed up. Too long.

When a person is alone outside with notebooks filled with blank pages to write feelings and stories in, it's easy to let emotions take over. He ended up writing around seven poems. Some poems were really cheesy and written in the spirit of the moment. Some didn't even rhyme. Some were a perfect description of where he was in him non-existent love life.

But they all had one thing in common.

They were melancholic and written from the point of view of a man who was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

"Nothing. I just wanted to have a picnic with you, 누나. I was just being dramatic to convince you to come despite feeling under the weather," he lied right through his teeth.

That made no sense because you two had never been on a picnic after sunset and Xiaojun would never lie to make you come see him. But you were tired and desperate to leave the cold outside, so you chuckled lightly, believing him immediately.

"Then where are the snacks?" you asked, confused since the only things around you were notebooks, a bike and water.

"I ate them."

Laughter filled the air; your genuine one and his fake one.

You put your face in his cheek, making him blush (not that you'd notice, since his cheeks were already red from before), "Well, my tummy is a little too thin right now, so let's go somewhere."

"In the middle of the night?" he questioned.

"Yes," you smiled against his cheek and he felt it, making him smile too.

"OK."

You both were still smiling when you were picking up all the notebooks to get ready for the ride. Jokes were thrown here and there. It was as if nothing had happened. You both knew it was a misunderstanding and you valued the friendship with the other too much to put energy into arguing. And you were tired too, so the argument wouldn't even be that epic even if you tried.

"What about your bike?" 

"Oh nooo! The buses are always so full now that it's too late to take the subway!" Xiaojun whined.

"You know what? Since I was a jerk you can go take a warm bus while I ride in the cold," you said impulsively.

"B-But, 누나—" he smiled, flattered. 

"B-But nothing," you interrupted him and sat down on the bike. Anyone who had spoken to you knew you were stubborn. He laughed. The little sadness he had left was gone by now. His cheeks were dry. Still red, but not from crying, now they were red from blushing.

"OK, whatever you say, 누나."

"You brought a transport card right?" you made sure since he came by bike.

"Yes I did~ See you in an hour, 누나," he winked at you and waved with a smile brighter than the moon before running to the bus that just arrived.

You waved back to him and got ready to bike — you definitely needed a head start. But before you started you couldn't help but see something white standing out in the darkness.

It was another one of Xiaojun's notebooks. You must've been too tired to notice it when you were picking them up. Thankfully the notebook was open or else you wouldn't have noticed it as it had a dark cover. You took it into your hands. To make sure it really was Xiaojun's you needed to read at least a snippet.

You prayed it was Xiaojun's because it would be worse if you read a stranger's private thoughts than your best friend's since you already knew all him secrets. The snippet was Xiaojun's. It was from one of the pages of poems that didn't rhyme, that was very cheesy but depicted how sappy he was feeling and also told him part of the story that you never knew.

I want to feel my best friend's lips on my lips

I want, more than anything, her to call me HER Prince

You drop the book on the grass. So that's what he wanted to tell you.

[syndrossi]

I always feel a weird kinship with Baelon, on account of having dealt with appendicitis myself a few years back, which hit right around the second "age bump" where it's common (when nearing one's thirties).

I remember being at work, and having a growing pain/discomfort in my stomach. I felt off enough that I opted to take the rest of the day off. I took the subway home, then laid down for a nap, hoping it would make me feel better.

It didn't. I woke up in worse pain, with a fever and chills. It was bad enough that I, a person who generally prefers suffering rather than drag myself to a doctor, called my roommate, who kindly took a lunch hour off work to join me back at the apartment. We found an urgent care that was nearby, made an appointment, and walked there, only to find that it didn't have a physical location (it was just a placeholder office), it was one of the virtual urgent cares where you have a video conference.

So we trekked back to the apartment. My roommate had to go back in to work, and I took the virtual call. The doctor thought it sounded like it could be appendicitis or an ovarian cyst, which present similar symptoms, or possibly just a bad stomach bug, but advised seeking a physical urgent care.

At this point, I was feeling absolutely wrecked. I remember lying down on the floor, dizzy and feverish, calling my parents, trying to decide what to do. The funny thing is, they're usually the first to urge caution, but they thought it might be worth waiting a few hours, offering to drive over (they lived 300 miles away) and help me.

But I just knew that something was really wrong. I couldn't walk to take the subway, I was too weak, and because I live in lolmerica, I was terrified of incurring ambulance costs, so I called an uber. I could barely make it down the long hall to the elevator and out to the curb. I kept having to hold onto the wall, so light-headed I was worried I'd pass out.

They drove me to the hospital I'd punched into the app, and I dragged myself to the desk, and from there things went about as you'd expect, aside from the incident where they put a fluid IV in wrong and my arm started slowly inflating with the fluid instead. 😱

They weren't able to get me into operation until later that evening, and apparently I had been hours away from it bursting, which makes recovery a lot harder.

I just remember thinking afterward that if I had lived in anywhere other than the modern era, I just...would have died. I would have been dead before thirty, and it would have been recorded as some fever, or the "burst belly" that Baelon's death was ruled as. It's such a strange feeling.

Anyway, that's my unasked-for story of why I have such a soft spot for Baelon and why I really wanted him to live in at least one of my AUs. Because I too would have died, had I been in his place.

Addendum: Even though I had quite good insurance, I still owed about $1,500 out of pocket for that life-saving operation.

Addendum 2: Laparoscopic surgery is amazing. I spoke at a conference a week after my surgery. Granted, I was sore and weak and paid for it, but I was able to do it!

Addendum 3: Since ovarian cysts and appendicitis present so similarly, they checked me for both, meaning I have two scars, not just one!

[gffa]

Hey, hi, cool, so I just thought, for no reason that I can think of at this particular time, you all might want to fall back into the Kalluzeb rabbit hole with me, especially since they didn't get onscreen resolution for the desperate need I had for them to kiss, so fic is here to help solve that for us. Also feelings. So many, many feelings. And delicious mutual pining and hilarity of two idiots who clearly want to bang each other, with the knowledge that Zeb eventually will totally get his man (Steve Blum said so!!! just like that!!!) which makes it fun to watch two dumbasses circle each other around. Or finally give in because there's definitely a lot of giving in. Anyway, yes, have some STAR WARS REBELS fic, centered on Kallus and Zeb just because I thought it would be a fun side trip today. No reason! Just seemed like the thing to do, is all! STAR WARS REBELS KALLUZEB FIC RECS: ✦ A Lasat Walks into a Bar by Holderisms, zeb/kallus, the mandalorian spoilers, 1.3k    After speaking with Teva, Zeb gets a drink. Even when someone is waiting on him. ✦ Eudaemonia by Bur, zeb/kallus, 7.9k    Alexsandr never expected to find peace more terrifying than war. ✦ Hoth is (Not) for Lovers by bar2d2s, zeb/kallus, 1.2k    Hoth is cold and Kallus is miserable. Set only just before Empire Strikes Back. ✦ Falling in Love with the Right Now (Poster Boy) by akaparalian, (pre-)zeb/kallus & ghost crew, 1.6k    Somewhere out there in the galaxy, there's a rebel propaganda artist who deserves a raise. ✦ It Works on You by Kereea, zeb/kallus, 3.2k    Humans and lasats can have very different ideas about what's attractive. Zeb and Kallus still tend to line up by each other's standards. ✦ Warmth by icarus_chained, zeb/kallus, 1.6k    Zeb and Kallus, in the aftermath of Zero Hour. Someone needs to put Kallus back together, or near as can be managed. ✦ Mating Rituals by Velvedere, zeb/kallus & sabine & cast, 4.7k    Zeb has been acting weird lately. Kallus vents to Sabine about it. ✦ in your warmth I forget how cold it can be by dykeannebonny, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.6k    "Are you going to kiss me, Garazeb Orrelios?" Alex's lips were parted; he inhaled deeply through his mouth. "I'm thinkin' about it," Zeb said quietly. ✦ What We Want by TheTrashMan (Viraaja), Viraaja, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 12k    Kallus and Zeb realize what it is they want from each other: sex, obviously. ✦ Falling in Love with the Right Now (Poster Boy) by akaparalian, zeb/kallus & phoenix crew, 1.6k    Somewhere out there in the galaxy, there's a rebel propaganda artist who deserves a raise. ✦ The Care and Keeping of Ex-Imperials Who Need Coffee, a Nap, and a Hug in That Order by akaparalian, kallus & phoenix crew (& some zeb/kallus), 8.8k    Five Ghost crew members who helped Alexsandr Kallus, and one who he helped in return. ✦ In the Middle of the Night by bar2d2s, hera & kallus (background kanan/hera & zeb/kallus), 1.8k    When one member of your self-made family is pregnant, you’re all pregnant. ✦ Celestial Navigation by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 1.7k    Kallus doesn't understand why Zeb's not sad. ✦ Untitled Rebels Fic by Mirror and Image, zeb/kallus & cast, 11.6k    Kallus, on Yavin IV, sees a Lasat that isn't Zeb. Things go as expected. ✦ When we have peace by apocrypha73, zeb/kallus, 2.9k    After the Battle of Endor, Kallus and Zeb enjoy the celebration. ✦ The Last Parking Spot on Lovers' Lane by ambiguously, zeb/kallus & hera & cast, 3.7k    All Zeb wants is to find a nice quiet spot to make out. This is not as easy as it should be. ✦ Speculation by Nana, zeb/kallus & ap-5, 1k    "AP-5," Kallus said, "are you under the impression that Captain Orrelios and I are involved, romantically?" "It is common knowledge at the base, sir. You don't have to deny it just because I am a droid." ✦ roisters by spookykingdomstarlight, zeb/kallus, 1.8k    For once, he is willing to put aside his thoughts and act. “Garazeb,” he says, because he is the only one who calls Zeb by his full name and because he’s noticed the way Zeb’s fur ripples in pleasure after he says it and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that means something. “A word?” ✦ in this world by xpityx, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 2.1k    It had been eight months. Eight months since he'd last seen Alex in person. He'd still been Kallus then, had still been convinced that the Ghost crew were taking him to his executioners. ✦ The Sea Has Ten Thousand Names by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.6k    Living on a new planet is hard when you don't know the language. ✦ Date Night by ambiguously, zeb/kallus & kanan/hera & jacen, 1.7k    Asking your not-boyfriend out on a date is even harder when he's stuck babysitting for his friends. ✦ Heard It in a Love Song (Can't Be Wrong) by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.7k    Kallus can't quite figure out what makes Zeb tick, but he keeps trying. ✦ a more than mutually beneficial agreement by wrennette, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.1k    It takes a while, getting ex-Agent Kallus to open up. ✦ Another Mission, Another Mess by icarus_chained, zeb/kallus & kanan/hera & ghost crew, 6.5k    Kallus has been slowly intergrating into the crew when the Ghost is assigned to a normal supply run. The mission goes south, as it usually does, Zeb takes a hit, Kallus doesn't take it well, and the rest of the crew try to pick of the pieces. Another mission, another mess. Just another day on the Ghost. ✦ Rebel Teamwork by sempaiko, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 4.9k    How many Rebels does it take to screw in a lightbulb? ✦ Unscheduled Contact by Kala_Sathinee, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 3.4    During a rescue mission, Zeb gets stranded aboard the Chimaera when it jumps to hyperspace. He and Kallus make the most of the time. ✦ just another damn of the damns you're not giving by shades, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 6.8k    The thing is, Zeb’s handsy. ✦ taste of pleasure by wrennette, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 1.2k    The one where Zeb follows through on his idea of fucking Sasha full of come and then eating him out until he cries ✦ Scent Blind by Rachello344, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 4.4k    Alexsandr has been avoiding Zeb since he joined the Rebellion in full, convinced that prolonged contact with the Lasat will prove his undoing. As long as Zeb smells so unfathomably good, he’ll never be able to speak with him casually, especially now that there are no other divides between them. If only Zeb had gotten the memo that Alexsandr was doing this for both their sakes. Unfortunately, it seems Zeb can’t, or won’t, take a hint. ✦ In Your Orbit by LoveCrumb, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.2k    After wanting to touch Zeb for so long, Alex reaches up and runs his hands down Zeb’s wide chest. The fur there, like much of his body, is short and thick; it feels velvety as Alex strokes downward, and more textured and coarse on the upstroke. ✦ We Belong Way Down Below by Mithrigil, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 1.6k    Zeb runs into Kallus on a routine mission. He doesn't know how that resulted in both of them getting off, but he's not complaining. ✦ ibac jaon by wrennette, zeb/kallus, nsfw, 3.9k    Fulcrum had given up on being found. ✦ Cogs by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 1.1k    "You brought him home. That makes him yours." ✦ ever so patiently by Anonymous, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 21.2k    Lasat have very peculiar mating habits. No one thought to tell Kallus about that. or: Kallus is the last one to find out he’s being courted.

[farklelucas]

okay so. now that ive taken some time to breathe, compose myself, and gather my thoughts, lemme lay out why the teen wolf movie was a hot holy mess (besides, you know, the obvious) as a teen wolf enthusiast and expert.

a lot of the characters were really little more than set dressing. to be specific, i think liam could have been replaced by a mailbox with a hat and the movie would have been the same (and this is coming from a major liam fan). the same can be said for mason, malia, melissa, peter, and honestly even the sheriff (which i hate bc god he was such a core of the show). i think parrish was only useful in one specific instance and even that isn't enough to warrant him being in the film. the characters i loved felt like cardboard cutouts and that wasnt fair to me, to the characters, or to the actors. i would have rather they not been there at all tbh. like just leave liam out of this if youre gonna do him like that fr

a lot of the plot points felt... disjointed and weird. saraid said it felt like three different movies in one and i have to agree. derek and eli felt like its own thing, then scott and allison, and then everything else (whatever the hell parrish and malia had going on, the lydia and jackson buddy cop comedy, liam in... japan with a ramen shop i think? and some random girlfriend that happened to be a kitsune) kind of fell to the wayside in between.

this movie was truly so flat without kira. it was hard to make a nogitsune movie without stiles, but it was almost impossible to make without her. hikari unfortunately ended up just feeling like a woman they randomly shoved into all the plot points kira was supposed to be in. because she didnt have a character besides liams girlfriend (and because liam was barely a character himself), she just couldn't compare and so kiras lack of presence was really felt. she left a huge hole in the narrative. they didnt even mention her and you knew what was missing. if you had cut khylin and dylan sprayberrys checks entirely, im sure they would have had enough to pay her as much as the rest of her white coworkers :) but that's just my opinion xxx

this was supposed to be for fans of the original series, but really just felt like jeff davis's weird rare pair fanfiction. instead of focusing on the dynamics that already existed - melissa and the sheriff, malia and peter, scott and liam, derek and. anyone really - he ended up delving into all these new dynamics with only two hours to develop them. malia and parrish (which. i really had to mentally run through the show to see if those two had interacted before and i dont think they have), liam and hikari, and derek and eli. all of which had a shot at being interesting but because there were so many different plots going on, it all just felt. awkward and confusing.

that being said, im gonna move onto derek and eli generally. i like eli! i do. i thought he was funny, i thought the actor was super charming (although the timeline made no sense because if he was born fifteen years ago And allison died fifteen years ago he would be braedens and. hate to say it folks. thats not braedens baby. make him mixed jeff davis you fucking coward). really, i liked him. ... but not at the expense of dereks character. the derek i knew was an asshole. he was mean, he was sarcastic, he was a bastard (honorifically). its not to say that people cant change, but... the derek i saw in the movie was a complete 180 from the derek we last saw in the series. honestly, the derek i saw in the series probably wouldn't have made a good parent - we saw how he was with erica, isaac, and boyd. even with scott. derek was kind of a dick. i dont even think he would have wanted kids - i think he would raise them out of duty, and i think he would if a partner wanted him to. but i dont think kids were ever in his life plan. and i think that could have been super interesting to see with him and eli. i think making him a parent could have been really interesting and it just. crumbled.

i know i mentioned the timeline in that last bit but. the timeline. it hurts my head. when was eli born. what year is it. how long has it been since scott has been in beacon hills. im so confused.

lets talk about adrian harris. shall we. i have made a list of people who i think would have been a better villain reveal are you ready: allison, peter, theo, chris argent, kate argent (resurrected), matt daehler (resurrected), victoria argent (resurrected), kira herself, danny mahealani, rafe mccall, isaac's shit dad, coach, greenberg, me with a baseball bat filled with rusty nails, jeff davis in a wig. the list goes on. you could not have picked a more random and less memorable character to reveal as your villain. i almost felt like i was being mocked. "haha! you didnt expect it to be this guy? the chemistry teacher who also died fifteen years ago? who had almost nothing to do with the plot until season 3? stupid! idiot!" i have never been so mad in my life

speaking of villain. did they forget what a nogitsune is. it needs a host. its not some guy they can stab to death. its a concept, a feeling, a parasite. its a manifestation of mental illness. but no sorry excuse me i must be wrong bc now its also a werewolf??????? im sorry. am i the crazy one. give me void allison! give me allison as the host and shes being taken over and she has those bags under her eyes and that creepy void stare and grin! give me crystal reed emmy noms! while we're on the subject, heres some more questions about the nogitsune include: why was it in a jar? why was it with LIAM of all people (who didnt even know what that was)? why did its powers completely change? HOW was it a werewolf????????? i cant stop thinking about it.

i said it once and ill say it again: jackson fucking carried this movie. he was giving all season one jackson, he was bringing comic relief, he was even bringing up ethan when no one else would! king! he carried. but he shouldn't have had to. dont get me wrong, i think crystal reed ate and left no crumbs. this was allisons movie and it should have been. but when the other two standout characters imo were jackson (who arguably did nothing) and coach (who did even less)... you simply didnt use your characters well. i think i would put deaton up there and even chris, but... scott and lydia? this should have been their movie. but scott spent nearly the whole movie ignoring his friends, and lydia was reduced to 'woman whose plot was about a man,' again. it was horrible. lydia outgrew that song and dance by season two. and scott? hasnt been to beacon hills in twelve years? hasnt seen his mom or his friends? not the scott mccall i know.

this is not about shipping discourse this post will never be about shipping discourse so i say this as a completely objective party. that being said. st/dia was so strangely shoved in there at the end. how did harris even know about lydia leaving stiles. how did he know about her dream. how did it add to the plot. like yes the nogitsune feeds of chaos and strife but i think lydia was getting enough of that watching her friends get murdered. it felt like a weird way to explain why dob wasnt there and it simply didnt work. i would have rather they not said anything about stiles at all.

anyway, this is skipping over a lot of other little things that i thought were really bad (sexualizing malia who literally had the mentality of an eight year old for most of her life AGAIN, why was mason a fucking cop, peters lack of interaction with the hale family which is what made him interesting in the first place, the absolute insanity of allison coming back to life and just being absolutely okay even though shes been dead for fifteen years, died at the hands of her friend, and almost everyone she knew including stiles, isaac, and kira are all just gone now), but boy oh boy. for a while it was funny bad. like "oh this is bad but i can still enjoy this for what it is" bad. but those last ten minutes. what is actually absolutely wrong with jeff davis. there are very few times ive felt this betrayed by tv shows i held this close to my heart, but im there. im heartbroken. i wont go on about it here, bc honestly, it would need its own post considering how much i have to say. but if the rest of the movie was bad? that was shit was traumatizing.

anyway. so sorry this post is this long, and so sorry i couldnt come back with a positive review. this show died long ago; i think we should have just let it rest - nobody asked for a reunion, and now i can see that was with good reason. so the next time jeff davis opens up an email with a header titled 'sequel idea' and he ccs tyler posey, i think we should all just agree to ler arden cho beat him to death in a dennys parking lot instead.

[fauxnotice]

ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev. masterlist.

CHAPTER IV. JUST KICK THE DAMN BALL, PERCHANCE.

Just as you’re about to wonder if you’re ever going to actually play football in this place, since it’s been around three days of doing nothing but various physical tests, Ego is helpful enough to announce that the results of those have been finalized. Thus, your rankings have changed as well. By your reasoning, if each team got one member kicked off during the first test, that would mean that you should bump up by quite a few rankings.

Your hypothesis is proven correct, as the number on your shirt rises by twenty five places. 

His goal point system is interesting as well. You decide to set getting a proper bed as your first objective, as those shitty futons are disastrous for your back. And an unhealthy back means an underwhelming football performance, and you can’t have that. That, additionally to this peculiar uneasiness that’s been plaguing you ever since you arrived, was bound to only bring you down.

But that was a worry for later.

You had already assumed that Blue Lock was going to be an intense environment, and Ego proved you right. The rules of the so-called First Selection were rather cutthroat, intending to further aid in sowing the seeds of desperation within participants as it went on. Truly an eat-or-be-eaten situation. 

You can’t say that you’re against it. 

Then, the weird man proceeds to drop the biggest bomb of all -it being that your first match as Team V would be held in less than two hours. 

The screen returns into its initial pitch black state, and the entire room is thrown into disarray.

Well. A good part of the room. Some of you are much less affected by the sudden revelation than the rest. For your part, you’re sitting down on your futon, attempting (and failing) to find the most comfortable position. You really need that deluxe bed, huh.

Detachedly, your sight lands upon the “analyst”. Of course, he doesn’t seem worried at all, though from what you’ve seen, Karasu isn’t the type to show it visibly, even if he was perturbed by something. You can easily tell that he’s thinking of something, grinding of gears almost audible in the realm of reality. How cool, you think humorously, it’s our “weakest” that’s trying to be rational about this.

The majority of your team is pacing around restlessly by now, complaining in vain about not knowing how to build a team of all forwards. Someone even suggests playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who will be playing each position, which sounds like such a deliberate attempt at reducing your chances of winning it almost makes you laugh out loud. 

Sone, the guy signed into your memory due to his less-than-impressive performance during the initial exam, looks incredibly tense. Like, tense enough that you think if you poked him on the shoulder right now, he’d have a heart attack and die. His polar opposite is found in Otoya, who is lying on his back, entirely unbothered as he twists his signature green strand of hair between his fingers. His nonchalance is truly extraordinary.

At some point, somebody walks up to you and asks for your opinion as the “strongest” (as if some stupid number actually meant anything). In all honesty, you didn’t spare a single thought on how to proceed, as you had spent the past few minutes lamenting your shitty living conditions, so you’re kinda stuck on what to say. Not for long however, as you are nothing if not an improviser, and also a person who uses others to save your own skin when the time calls for it. Thus, the most logical decision is to throw someone under the bus. And there is only one candidate for it. 

“I think Karasu-kun already has an idea.” You smile. “So let’s hear what he has to say first.” 

All inhabitants of Room V collectively turn to look at the mentioned boy. He sends you a look that’s too quick for you to interpret. Even you find yourself rather curious, especially with how relaxed Karasu seemed to be, almost as if he already had the entire game in the bag.

“Puttin’ the spotlight on me like that … are ya tryin’ to embarrass me?” Karasu smirks, clearly not even close to being embarrassed. You simply continue smiling. 

“No, not at all. I’m just saying that I think you’re the best person for the job.”

“And what made ya think that? Not that I mind the compliment.”

Unwilling to unravel the methods of your reasoning, you only shrug lightly. “I’m simply a very intuitive person.”

“Should ya really be relyin’ on intuition right now? Who knows, maybe I’m the biggest buffoon in the room.”

Your smile widens. “Then I’ll put my trust in the buffoon.” 

Karasu actually does laugh at this. The others, however, are far from laughing, and are feeling like this supposed strategy meeting is getting derailed into a session of bickering between you two. Which is happening at the most inopportune time possible. And yet, no one seems to want to speak up, as if what you and Karasu are discussing is of some great importance. Even Otoya stood up to observe the event.

Karasu’s eyes meet your form with an intensity that would unsettle most people. But you-you’ve felt worse. After seemingly debating something with himself, he finally speaks up again. “Well, let’s see if yer intuition is worth anythin’, or if yer a naive dumbass.” And he ends it at that. 

There’s a miniscule twitch in your brow. But whatever. If the scales don’t tip in your favor, you’ll force them to. “The stage is yours, Karasu-kun.”

Karasu makes a sarcastic bowing motion. “Many thanks, Mr. Angel.”

This bullshit again? You swear, that weirdo has done irreparable damage to your image. You can only hope that your stupid nickname won’t spread amongst people, because you don’t know how much cheesiness your psyche can take before you do something unpresentable. 

But you’ll brush that off for now, as it seems like Karasu is about to finally say something worthwhile. 

“The other team’s probably jus’ as unprepared as we are.” He begins, even and collected in his delivery of what could possibly make or break your future career. “Which means they’ll have buncha holes in their plays-if we poke at those weaknesses enough, they’ll topple right over.”

Everyone seems to find this reasonable enough. You do think it’s a sound start to a strategy. 

“But that’s not enough, right?” You ask, tone as serene as always, but you’re guessing that Karasu can notice the almost challenging suggestion behind it. “We can’t just bet on our opponent’s incompetency to win.”

Karasu snorts in turn. “Duh, obviously. I was gettin’ to that.” And he’s grinning. What a cheeky bastard. “Even if they manage to make a workin’ team, there’s always those who’re laggin’ behind. The mediocre ones.” 

The way he accentuates mediocre is no different than the rest of his sentence, but you feel a particular importance put into it. Mediocrity … Those who continue to be plagued by it won’t make it far into Blue Lock. 

You’re already forming some kind of picture of who Karasu is as a player. Once more, you feel anticipation blossom within your chest like a late flower, although you squash it before it takes full form. Such clear-cut strategic playing … is it truly what you’re looking for? 

“Uh … that’s nice and all,” some brunette with an unfortunate haircut cuts in. “But how are we supposed to decide who’ll play which position? We’re all forwards!” 

As patient as you strive to be, it doesn’t stop you from thinking that some people need to use their ears (and brains) more than their mouths. Could he not wait, for like, a minute at best? Karasu obviously got the planning covered, and he wasn’t stupid enough to skip over the critical part of the entire process. But whatever, it is what it is. You make no move to acknowledge his rather useless addition to the conversation. 

Karasu graces the questionably-intelligent specimen with a proper response, at least. “Since most don’t have experince when it comes to playin’ different positions, each one of us should think of somethin’ they’re good at that they can use in the match.”

“So something that’s our “weapon”?” Otoya pipes in. You’re surprised that he was even listening at all.

Karasu nods. “Sure, let’s call it that. Everyone, think of yer weapon.”

Wow, what assertiveness. Seems like he fell into the leadership role with no problem. It appears that the rest of your teammates had the same thought, since they all turned to think about their new “assignment”.

That includes you too, as you’re, shamefully enough, stuck with the dilemma of what exactly you excel at enough for you to share. The abrupt feeling of … you’re not sure what, as it twists your insides with something akin to shame, uncertainity, dissatisfaction, irritation, and a plethora of other unpleasant things. But you manage to supress it all, or rather tuck away for later. Personal feelings of weakness mean jack shit on the field. If you bring them in, be ready to leave with nothing but a scorching loss on your hands. 

Of course you have useful skills. You’re you.

So you manage to land on something you’d describe as a weapon. 

When it’s your turn to share, you put on your best face as you speak. “Other than my flexibility and balance, I’d say my playmaking is pretty good.”

Karasu then proceeds to stare at you in silence for a good minute, enough to make you feel awkward and oddly violated as he keeps trying to pry into your very being with only his gaze. You show no signs of discomfort, of course, although you raise your eyebrow in question as he continues to attempt to psychoanalyse you or whatever he is doing. You truly had no clue. What a guy.

“And yer shooting, striker?”

Well, his rather interrogative question strikes you as quite odd, since he seemed to accept everyone’s answers without any fanfare except for yours. Is he trying to provoke you? You bet he is. He’s trying to throw you off balance, like a lowlaying hunter waiting for its prey to misstep. What an underhanded method! No wonder his entire philosophy hinged on attacking the weakest. A viable, rational way to go about things, yet it still doesn’t sit right with you. 

You don’t know why, however. 

Your lack of reasoning greatly bothers you. 

“What about my shooting?” You seep out sweetly. Maybe you overdo it, because it sounds forced even to your ears. You belatedly notice the team that observes you two with keen interest. 

“Nothin’.” Karasu fires back just as coolly. “Ya just seem like the typa guy that’s real’ proud of his strikin’ ability.” 

Okay, now you’re beginning to get annoyed. This is exactly why you can’t last long around people like Karasu; so self-assured in their capability to tear others apart, ignoring all that is wrapped around one’s core as if it meant nothing. Was he suspecting that you were hiding something? Was he theorizing that you were the star actor of some arbitrary play, with him being the only member of the audience to be aware that what’s presented in front of them is not reality, but a farce? As if. 

With the best of your ability, you mold your expression into something that could be described as sheepish. You even throw in a nervous laugh, as a bonus. “Is that really the impression I give off? To be honest, I don’t think I’m good enough to be boasting around.” 

With the way something in Karasu’s eyes changes, you’d think he had hit a jackpot. And he probably did, you think, in his own roundabout way. 

“We’ll see if yer good or not once the match starts.” He says, as if it’s that easy.

The ending of your little exchange feels like a bitter loss on your part. Even if you choose every step of your act carefully, it’s greatly aggravating how easily Karasu seems to be able to come in and push against you. Truly a bothersome crow. You’d throw rocks at it.

Of course, he is also in charge of everyone’s positions. So it does come as a bit of a shock when Otoya of all people gets chosen as the center forward. Was your assumption about there being some type of animosity between them wrong? Or were they simply mature enough to put that aside on the field? 

Whatever it is, it’s fine by you.

You make your way to the pitch with the resignation of a man joining the losing side of a war. 

It’s the same as always, which saddens you in some way. You wish you could feel the jitters of excitement, or even nervousness, yet your heart is as steady as ever. Even recalling the rules of Blue Lock does little stir you up; perhaps getting eliminated is fine, if you manage to find what sort of football makes you feel like a living being, and not a paper doll given consciousness. 

Your opponents stride towards you with as much confidence as they can muster up. When you look them all over, yet no one seems to stand out. Still, you hope for an outlier to appear, someone who could make you feel weak in the knees after the game. 

(Alas, there is no cold-hearted forward with long eyelashes to steal your breath out of your lungs this time.)

Team Y moves in a rather standard way, with a few of their members sharing passes as they begin their attack. Surprisingly, they seem to be rather coherent as a team, or at least coordinated enough to not trip over themselves for possession of the ball. As per Karasu’s plan that he so gracefully shared with the rest of you, Team V falls back into defense. 

You do a quick scan of those on the field. Everyone is at their positions, moving as smoothly as possible. Karasu, of course, is doing the same as he inspects the movement of each player with great intensity. You can see Otoya slowly speeding up. 

The pieces for the plan that Karasu suggested earlier are falling into place. It’s showtime, you guess.

Otoya, who let you know that he is supposedly a descendant of a long line of ninjas of all things, actually lives up to it, much to your amusement. He easily weaves between the rivaling players as he makes his way towards the one with the ball, who is unfortunately still unaware of the threat that is approaching.

And just like that, the advantage falls into the hands of Team V.

Glancing off to the side, you become aware that your scheming companion seems to be donning a rather smug expression. Or rather, it’s even more smug than usual. You wonder what exactly he has in store that gives him the right to be so confident.

Somewhere along the line, the ball hits the goal in favor of Team V, marking the first official goal of your Blue Lock experience. Too bad it’s not yours. Not like you’d want to claim ownership of such an average shot, of course. You’d say it’s a solid five-point-five out of ten.

Karasu says something about … installation? You aren’t really following, but you assume he’s had some form of significant revelation of sorts, but you aren’t quite sure. 

When the game resumes, a detail strikes you as noticeable. 

Team Y has no players with exceptional speed. 

No wonder Otoya’s attack easily tore them apart.

Karasu throws a grin your way and has the nerve to speak. “Just figured it out, Mr. Angel? Ain’t that a lil’ too slow?”

Oh, aren’t you getting sick of his smart ass. Letting his vocal chords rest once in a while could do him some good. As another benefit, you’d enjoy that a lot as well! “Keep your head in the game, Karasu-kun.”

He snorts, just like that. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

The boy who has the ball has a fairly sturdy build, but you can’t help but notice the barely visible, yet present, wobbliness of his feet. 

Huh. Neat.

You move to pressure him. You truly had no intention of taking the ball, honest -but it simply seems to stick to your feet! The big guy fumbles as you hook your foot between his own and with an elegant movement bring the ball towards your form.

Too bad you have to part with it early, as two other guys move to swarm you. In the corner of your eye, you spot Karasu, loitering around like a permanent thorn in your side. 

Your heart still beats steady in your ribcage. 

Getting the ball to Karasu would be so painfully easy. 

You click your tongue in distaste. You reel your leg back and send a polished low pass his way. With it, goes the unspoken prayer: Excite me. Make my presence worth it. 

Karasu pushes onwards, until some brunette from Team Y interrupts him. Now, a curious part happens; he stops, and starts rolling the ball across the grass, letting it get away from him, gaze thrown to the side. 

No way, goes through your head as you watch the other’s bewilderment. You fight back a smile. What cruelty.

As the poor victim of this charade foolishly moves to steal the ball, Karasu reels it back in, forcing himself into his opponent's personal space. He easily marches towards the goal, followed by a flock of stupefied players. 

Now, you think he’s engaging in some type of trash talk, if the angered visage of the bamboozled brunette is anything to go by. You don’t even hear what he’s saying, so you fill in the blanks easily, using your foreknowledge of Karasu’s irritation tactics.

Looking at him more closely, you guess his surname’s kind of fitting. If anything, his crazy long limbs make him seem like some sort of bird, as he pushes against various bodies with no issue. A nasty, nasty crow, that’s for sure.

Boom. It’s two goals for Team V.

In terms of scoring prowess, you’re falling behind. But no matter how much you force yourself to react to the fact, you remain unmoved. This showdown feels more like a one-sided beatdown, and swatting flies really doesn’t seem all that fun. 

Although there are interesting things happening. Like Otoya and Karasu hooking up. In football terms of course, even if with how they suddenly started smoothly playing in tandem you’d think there is some previous connection between them. Which there isn’t, you know, as they seemed to be quite opposed to the idea of the other literally days ago? Did you miss something? 

Was this the work of pure and practical interpersonal understanding between partners? You have no idea. Unfortunately, in contrast to their ascension, you got a demotion. Which does piss you off, honestly. Once someone who carried your entire team, you’ve now become a bystander feeding the two passes so they can score. And to be frank, you wouldn’t even mind if your pass led to an amazing play, but these goals weren’t even close! In fact, they were in no way similar to the perfect play of your dreams! 

But even the frustration that is felt deep within every fiber that makes up your vessel, you can’t bring yourself to attempt to change that.

What a useless thing, you!

Team Y experiences a humiliating defeat of 6-0. 

You feel like you’re going to throw up, or something. There sure is a heaviness in your gut. Usually, you’d work off your intense emotions by training, running, doing whatever else, but you’re already sticky and quite unwilling to further push yourself physically, so you make a straight route to one of Team V’s training rooms without even looking back at your teammates, since your usual, although well hidden, distaste for people got increased by at least a hundred percent. 

You don’t even care if you feel Karasu’s eyes on your back. Not like it’s anything new for the A-class creep. Kinda insane how he called Otoya that on the first day, yet he’s the one acting in ways that you think are generally frowned upon in society. But what would you know? 

You unceremoniously drop yourself against the wall once you reach your destination. You didn’t even turn the lights on. Which is annoying, but you don’t want to get up, so you sit there in the dark like a pathetic piece of shit.

You think for what you deem to be a long time. You initially think about the game, obviously, but that makes you feel worse, so you try to think about something else. It doesn’t work.

You love football, don’t you? And the answer is always, no matter when or where, instantaneously going to be a yes, certain like nothing else in your life is. And love makes you happy, so happy that you want to die, doesn’t it? That’s what it is. A feeling so intense that nothing else compares. 

So why aren't you feeling happy? You finally had a chance to compete against other supposedly skilled people, yet you were left feeling hollowed out, uncomfortable in the prison of your own skin. 

Amidst all your turbulent thoughts, the unwanted reminder of … Itoshi, of all people, rattles you enough to snap you out of your miserable episode. Why would you think of a guy you met once now, of all times? You don’t even know his first name, yet his afterimage clings onto you like a memory of a dead wife would onto a husband. 

Yet … is he not the one that forced you into the world of the living, all those weeks ago? The way he played was so out of the ordinary that it had awakened something within you, as well. But now, even if you try to recall any notable moments from that game, you’re only met with the recollections of joy, from being forced to submerge yourself into the flow of the game, and hatred, that he had dared disturb your everyday mundanity so rashly, without any consideration. It had left you feeling so weak, that Bachira had to carry you almost the entirety of the way home, and yet it was no product of exhaustion.

Itoshi. You hate him. You need to play against him again.

He must have come to Blue Lock. There is no way he hasn’t, right? If Ego didn’t invite him, that would be an astronomical waste. 

It’s fine. It’s only the beginning. You’ll play your type of football, you’re sure of it.

You just have to wait.

(You fail to notice that your teeth had pierced your lip, leaving crimson droplets to weave paths down your chin.)

A clear shot into the goal marks the ending of the match, and declares the opposing team the undeniable losers. 

Itoshi Rin doesn’t even spare a glance to the result as he marches away from the field, ignoring his bothersome teammates all the same. It’s the same as always; a bunch of NPCs who attempt to challenge him get crushed. If this is all Blue Lock has to offer to him, then it’s a waste of both Rin’s time and their money.

The memory of his brother emerges. Of course it does; it’ll remain with him until Rin proves the worth of himself and his dream. It’s the almost exact same picture as that day, where Sae -so different from how he used to be, with his gaze, resentful and dark, that had never been aimed at Rin before then -tore at his very being as if their brotherhood and shared promises meant nothing.

And then, the memory shifts, like it has never done before.

Sae’s visage gives way to a smile, dangerously cruel in its delivery, leading the owner’s lips into a wobbly line. You, of all people, some lukewarm nobody, come back to haunt Rin as you dance around him as if it required no effort on your part, all with that dull spark in your eyes, as if he was truly someone undeserving of standing before you, much less his brother. Not only was your goal the first offense; it was not enough for you, as you had continued running against his side, like a shadow, as if to ridicule him as you matched his every move with the precision he had only seen in one other person. 

He barely remembers your name. It’s not important. 

Next time, I’ll crush you. Rin had promised. But of course, you had smiled, as if gazing upon a petulant kid who had no idea about anything. You, you, you. So elegant in your performance of maliciousness. 

Like by some premonition, he knows you’ll be in Blue Lock.

And when the time comes, he will stand against you again and make sure your mocking grin makes way to awe, as he destroys you, completely and thoroughly, before he finally reaches his goal. He’ll make sure you understand where you stand -as an insect on his path. 

(He doesn’t take note of how tightly he’s been clenching his fist, allowing a ghastly white color to drench his skin.)