#would love someone to talk to about those kind of things ;-;

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! Someone genuinely trying to understand and perhaps unlearn some reactionary tendencies. With the response to that anon about "not asking if you're a pro or anti", the response about "imagine if they put this much effort into protecting real kids" definitely got me thinking. So... Is an adult shipping children and finding that hot NEVER a red flag? Or is it case by case on seeing how that person handles the distinction between fiction and reality in other things? And bringing the issue of real kids into it, if a real kid who has been abused sees someone shipping kids and finds that a red flag in that person, that... No, no I juicy answered my own question on that one. Block them and cultivate your own experience.

hi there anon, and congrats on trying to unlearn some things! and great job catching yourself at the end there, that's exactly correct.

I will start by saying this right out of the gate: fundamentally, I do not really give a shit about what made up scenarios about fictional characters people are jorking it to in private. I am, first and foremost, interested in how they are interacting with actual, real people.

"but Makenzie are you saying people who look at sexually explicit images of real human kids should be allowed near children?" no I'm not. please note that I was specifically talking about people engaging with fictional characters who are, you know, not real and do not have feelings and therefore cannot actually be hurt, traumatized, abused, etc, in any way that actually matters. I want to be so clear about this: you can genuinely think whatever vile things you want about fictional characters. you can enjoy any problematic shit you want with little guys who don't actually exist.

like, here's an example I use a lot: I'm kind of a huge Batman fan. don't know if you could tell that or not, I'm pretty subtle about it. if you spend any time in the Batman mythos, you know that this is a story where you just kind of have to take for granted that our hero is a billionaire using his vast wealth to dispatch vigilante justice with military grade weaponry and a small army of child soldiers and cop friends to help him put people in prison. these are moral quandaries that are discussed and acknowledged within the story, but fundamentally the universe is always going to involve billionaire vigilantism and child soldiers and the so-called carceral justice system. that's just the price of admission if you're gonna read Batman.

and like. I spend a lot of time in that world. I love Batman, I love his child soldiers. he's my little blorbo or whatever. but like, at no point have I said "yeah, fuck it, preteens should be learning martial arts to fight domestic terrorists, actually. I think Elon Musk SHOULD be allowed to put on a fursuit and beat up criminals. cops need more funding." no amount of Batman comics can make me believe or act on any of those things because, you know, I'm a person with a brain and I know the difference between "thing that makes a good story" and "thing that should actually happen for real."

and the thing is that genuinely, honestly, if someone thought that it was a red flag that I like Batman, and that enjoying Batman comics was somehow a red flag indicating that I'm fine with violence being done against real, actual children? I would think that person was a nut, if I can be super real. like, I'm thinking about somebody trying to make the case that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with my nephew because I enjoy the fictional character of Robin so clearly I'm going to kill my nephew's parents in front of him to try to get him into vigilante justice. or if someone attempted to bar me from teaching my 4th-6th grade sex ed classes on the grounds that I was obviously going to teach them to do karate to clowns instead of how their reproductive systems worked.

(although, lets be real, there are a lot of politicians who would MUCH rather let little kids cage fight each other than learn anything about safer sex.)

this doesn't just apply to morally bad things, either, btw. I also read a lot of romance novels, especially hetero romances. and the thing is, not one of those books has made me want to fall in love with a ruggedly handsome but condescending straight man. hell, none of them have made me want to fall in love with anybody, period. that's not really something I'm interested in for myself, it's just a fun and frequently funny dynamic to explore. I'm hardly the first queer person to point out that the allegations that queer media "turns kids gay/trans" is obviously bullshit since the vertible mountain of cishet media evidently failed to turn any of us straight/cis, you know?

my point being: no, I genuinely don't think it's often, if ever, reasonable to judge someone's actual, real life morals by how they interact with fiction.

I'm going to say something so vulnerable right now, because we're in a safe space here: since you asked me this very reasonable question, you evidently value my judgment and perspective at least a little bit. and I once read and thoroughly enjoyed a fic in which Dr. Horrible, from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, gets fucked by a sapient evil horse. and I don't think that makes me a morally reprehensible person, or a person who advocates for real human beings having real sex with real horses. I think it just makes me kind of a weirdo with a bullshit tolerance.

if you want to hear a MUCH more thorough take on this, complete with addressing the issue of shipping fictional children, I cannot recommend Princess Weekes' video essay enough:

[engie-ivy]

(Trying something new. Love to hear if you like🙂)

1021 words

High School Conversations

Edgar Bones

“So, how about it, Lupin?”

“... Come again?”

“You. Me. Drinks. It ain't rocket science.”

“No, I actually understand rocket science. You're not making any sense.”

“I want to take you on a date, Lupin.”

“But…why?”

“Why not?”

“For starters, I'm a loner who likes to spend his free time reading a book, while you're a star athlete who's almost the most popular guy at school.”

“Almost?”

“Well, there's-”

“Okay, okay, I know. Don't mention him.”

“So, it's ridiculous for you to want to go on a date with me.”

“It's ridiculous for someone like you to say no to someone like me.”

“‘Someone like me’ might not want to date someone he has so little in common with.”

“Don't be difficult, Loopy.”

"Calling me that won't increase your chances.”

“You should be grateful I'm even willing to spend my time on you.”

“You know what, Bones? Here's my answer: Fuck. You.”

Marlene McKinnon

“Hi there, Loopy Lupin.”

“Good god, what's going on today?”

“Why, that's not a very kind greeting.”

“Why are you talking to me, McKinnon?”

“I heard Edgar Bones asked you out.”

“And I said no, so don't worry, he's all yours.”

"The fact that you'd think I'd be interested in Bones is even more insulting than that rude greeting of yours.”

“I just don't understand what's going on today. First the school's jock, now the head cheerleader. Honestly, is it Talk to a Geek Day or something?”

“No, I think that's in March.”

“What is it, McKinnon?”

“I just want to ask you some questions.”

“I'm really not in the mood for-”

“Question Number One. Who is the most popular guy in school?”

“Sirius Black, of course. With his bad boy-image and that leather jacket of his, but his still perfect grades, that effortless charisma that lets him get away with anything, his guitar playing and that voice, his impossibly attractive smile, and that always-perfect-hair…”

“...”

“Or, ehm, at least that's what all those girls pining after him would say.”

“Of course. Your cheeks have turned a bit red there, Loopy.”

“So is your next question going to be who the most popular girl in school is? If you're just fishing for compliments you could've just said so.”

“Cute how you think I'd need your confirmation. But no, my next question is who is the second-most popular guy in school.”

“Edgar Bones.”

“What, no raving monologue for Bones?”

“Shut it, McKinnon.”

“And how would you describe the relationship between Black and Bones?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions?”

“I hope I won't need twenty, no. Answer this one please.”

“A rivalry. Or, well, a one-sided rivalry, that is. I don't think Black ever wastes much of his time on Bones, but Bones is obsessed with outdoing Black.”

“Like how?”

“Well, when Black wants a motorcycle, Bones wants a motorcycle, when Black gets his ears pierced, Bones gets his ears pierced, when Black starts a band, Bones starts a band. Basically, Bones wants everything Black wants.”

“Exactly. Now, how would a clever boy such as yourself combine this information with Bones asking you out?”

“... I don't know.”

“Oh, I think you do, Loopy. I think you do.”

“No, because the logical inference of the information you're presenting would be that Black wants… me, and there's no logic to be found in that.”

“Black fancies you, Lupin.”

“No. Just… No.”

“Yes. Just yes.”

“McKinnon, maybe for a head cheerleader the most popular guy in school fancying you is within the realm of possibility, but not for us geeky bookworms.”

“Ask Black out, then you'll see.”

“Is this a prank?”

“I'm wounded, Loopy. You think me so cruel?”

“The head cheerleader playing a prank on me is more likely than the high school heartthrob fancying me.”

“Well, since you're so obsessed with the head cheerleader-thing, let me put it this way.

Hey, Hey, Hear Me Cheer,

Hey, Hey, Hear Me Shout,

Lupin Should Ask Black Out!”

“Oh, for god sakes, please stop!”

“Lupin Might Be Geeky As Hell,

Black Just Thinks He's Swell!”

“Please get off the table!”

“Hey, Hey, Lupin Boy,

I've Got News You Might Enjoy!”

“I'll do it, okay? Just stop! Stop, and I'll ask him out.”

“Thank you.”

“You're a nightmare. I don't know why Dorcas likes you so much.”

“Wait, what?”

Sirius Black

“Oh, hello, Lupin.”

“Ehm, hi. So, ehm, a little birdie told me…”

“Mmm, was it a cheering birdie named Marlene?”

“Yup. Look, I know that a guy like me should drop to his knees and praise the lord if a guy like you would even breathe in his direction…”

“What are you talking about?”

“That you're probably expecting me to be grateful for any bit of attention you're willing to pay me, but…”

“Wait, what? Lupin, if anything, you are out of my league.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gods, you're so smart, and you read so many books, while I hardly ever read, and you have such an amazing dry sense of humour, with all those sharp, sarcastic remarks, you make my pranks seem juvenile, and I wear leather jackets and band tees, sure, but you can just wear cardigans and sweater vests and still look so unique and cool, and you have this calming presence over you, like when you're reading and you're chewing your lip in that way that you do…”

“You… you've noticed me.”

“Of course I have. You think I would fancy you without knowing anything about you?”

“Well, yeah. I thought… I didn't think… I don't know, I thought maybe you were bored or something?”

“This is not about me being bored, or about me wanting to shock people, or about me trying to stir the pot, or anything about me really. This is about you. You as a person.”

“You actually…”

“Yeah, I actually.”

“I… I promised that I would… No, screw that. I want to ask you out.”

“I think it's clear by now I would very much be okay with that.”

“Good god, I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but Sirius Black, will you go out with me?”

“I'd love to, Remus Lupin.”

[paper-mario-wiki]

"no art is good bc it's a misconfiguration of the natural world to suit man's vanity" Is an extremely misanthropic take on art. Is humanity not part of "the natural world"? Can one not make pigments from flowers or minerals? You say that the universe would never align so that a piece of art is made without human intervention, but the universe did align so that it could be made, you just assume humans aren't part of it. I understand that this is some faux-deep shit I'm on, but I love art and while I think good is kind of useless adjective when talking about art in general, to compare the concept of art to a tumor is a pretty bad faith take. Sorry if that was like, ironic or something and I just sent a rant into your inbox for nothing.

your faux-deep shit could never reach the faux-depths of my even shallower faux-deepness.

i think the main problem when establishing this argument in the first place was saying "all art is bad" because someone asked me if i liked any bad art, and i answered using "bad" as a shorthand for "not good". if i had known i'd be getting into this pedantic of an argument about it i definitely would have changed my wording, because things that are "not good" are not inherently "bad", which seems to be where the majority of the misunderstandings of my stance come from.

i'd ask you this: what could be considered "good" outside of something that affects humanity in some capacity? to be clear, you're absolutely right, humans ARE natural, humans ARE part of the world. but the idea of something being "good" didn't exist until humans came up with it.

100,000,000,000,000,000 light years away, two planets crash into each other, each with their own forms of biological life so different from earth's that we would find it difficult to even classify it as life if we were given the chance to observe it, but that doesn't matter because we would have never been given the opportunity to reach those planets anyway under any circumstances. is this a good thing? is it a bad thing? i don't think it's either, it's just something that happened.

because "good" and "bad" are code words used to reflect the societal values of the person using them, they cannot exist in a vacuum.

so if that's the case, and "good" and "bad" only exist to us, what does it mean to us?

well, something "good" is something with objective benefit or subjective enjoyment-- but subjective enjoyment of something can also contradict the nature of its objectivity. soup can be considered "good" because it sustains us and is therefore beneficial. soup can be considered to "taste good" because someone might enjoy the flavor. but "torture" can only be seen as "enjoyable", but it benefits nobody-- even if the person doing it enjoys it. that's just them subjectively enjoying it.

conversely, something can be objectively good but still subjectively unenjoyable, like having a soup that's healthy in a way you think tastes bad! you'd still benefit from it, even if you didn't enjoy the experience. but regardless of whether or not you enjoyed it, what has the greatest bearing on something being considered "good" is its objectivity, as it's something fewer people can debate.

now, all of that being considered, what can "art" do that is objectively good, without it serving some secondary purpose? something that is objectively good can be artistically created, like a children's hospital designed by a genius architect-- but its goodness in that case would be derived from its benefit, with the subjectivity of it being something that only enhances its good.

a piece of fabric, stretched across a wooden frame and painted using colorful oils, creates no benefit objectively, it exists solely in the world of subjectivity. how can something be "good" if the only thing it does is hold the potential (not the guarantee) for a person to look at it, and enjoy looking at it?

more importantly though, is that bad? it's not.

but it is superfluous.

^ please forgive me for typing all of this. im so sorry. it's just so easy to be pedantic. i promise im not a stick in the mud and i love art, i just also happen to be someone who is personally deeply concerned with rhetorically whittling communication down to the bare knob of its meaning (XRA style).

because it is something i find subjectively enjoyable.

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، eternal admirer ،، ⌇ 원우

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،، even on the days i ain't right by your side , i'm keeping my promise that i will be wherever you are ،، .ᐟ 🦋

pairing .ᐟ shy!wonwoo × fem!reader genre .ᐟ office romance au , lifetime crush word count .ᐟ 3.1k song rec. .ᐟ wherever u r ─ umi , v

note .ᐟ my playlist got the best of me─it's one of my favourite masterpiece , hope u guys love it as much as i do !

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Wonwoo first noticed Y/N in primary school, when they were just children sitting in the same classroom. It was something small at first—maybe the way she focused during lessons or how her laughter was bright and genuine. He didn’t know why, but even back then, something about her presence stayed with him.

Through middle school, Wonwoo kept his distance, content with admiring her from afar. He wasn’t the kind of boy to chase someone’s attention. In fact, he often found himself tucked in corners of the classroom, quietly reading while the others played during recess. Y/N was popular—not in the loud or flashy way—but in the way everyone naturally gravitated toward her. She was kind, easygoing, and always surrounded by friends. Wonwoo’s heart quietly thrived in that space of unspoken affection, never daring to break the surface.

High school came and went. Y/N was the star student—good grades, captain of the debate team, and still as radiant as ever. Meanwhile, Wonwoo was in the background, still the quiet boy who excelled in his own way but never sought the limelight. He had accepted by then that his love for her was something that would likely never be returned. It was easier that way. They barely shared more than polite smiles, a handful of group projects, and casual greetings.

His heart, however, had a way of betraying his thoughts. No matter how much he tried to push it down, his feelings for Y/N only grew. The longing became a constant companion—a soft ache he carried silently, never acting on it. He told himself he was okay with just admiring her from the sidelines.

They ended up attending the same university. It was a coincidence that almost felt like fate, though Wonwoo never allowed himself to believe in something as whimsical as that. University was different—they shared classes again, the same building, and occasionally ran into each other at the campus café. Those run-ins were his favorite part of the week. Sometimes they exchanged a few words, just small talk, but it was enough to keep his quiet hope alive.

During their final year, there was a group assignment, and for the first time, Wonwoo found himself working closely with Y/N. It was the most interaction they’d ever had, and for once, he allowed himself to believe they were becoming friends. His heart soared every time she asked for his help or when she smiled and thanked him for something small.

Graduation came quickly after that. Wonwoo had prepared himself for a life where their paths would finally diverge. He’d never confessed his feelings, and he told himself it was for the best. She was going to move on to bigger, brighter things, and he’d be left to move on as well, as he always had.

But life had other plans.

Three months after graduation, Wonwoo found himself at a sleek new office, ready to start his first job as a data analyst. The office was large and modern, a corporate hub buzzing with young professionals. He’d only been there a week when he saw her—Y/N, walking through the glass doors as if it were completely normal that they’d end up in the same place once again. His heart skipped a beat, then two, as she caught sight of him, smiling warmly.

“Wonwoo! I didn’t know you’d be working here too,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way.

He froze for a moment, fumbling for words, before managing a soft, “Yeah, I started last week.”

From that day on, they crossed paths daily—at meetings, during lunch breaks, in the shared spaces of the office. And every time they did, Wonwoo’s heart fluttered with the same nervous energy as it had back in school. Yet, despite all the opportunities, he still couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Then, one afternoon, a project landed on their desks. It required collaboration between departments, and to his utter shock, Wonwoo found himself paired with Y/N. They would be working closely for the next two weeks. His mind spun at the thought of spending so much time with her, but he played it cool, nodding in agreement as if his heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.

The first meeting was nerve-wracking. Y/N sat beside him, their elbows almost touching, and all Wonwoo could focus on was the warmth radiating from her. She asked him questions about the project, listened intently to his suggestions, and for the first time, he felt like she truly saw him—not just as a classmate or colleague, but as someone important.

By the end of the project, they had spent more time together than ever before, and Wonwoo’s heart was in overdrive. Every moment felt surreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake from. The day they submitted their final report, Y/N turned to him with a smile that nearly made his knees buckle.

“We make a pretty good team,” she said, lightly nudging his arm.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up. “We do.”

That evening, back at his shared apartment, Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement. His roommates were lounging in the living room when he burst in, practically glowing.

“You won’t believe what happened,” he blurted out, pacing back and forth.

Mingyu, sitting on the couch with a game controller in hand, raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Wonwoo could hardly stand still as he recounted every small detail—how they’d worked together, how close they’d sat, and how Y/N had smiled at him like that. His friends listened with amused grins, teasing him about his schoolboy crush.

“You’re so whipped,” Seungcheol teased, laughing.

Wonwoo didn’t care. He was giddy, like a teenager all over again. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, something could happen between them. The hope he’d kept buried for so long was starting to bloom, and though he didn’t know where things would lead, he was finally ready to see where this journey would take him.

For now, that smile was enough to keep his heart racing.

The next few days at work were a blur of nervous energy for Wonwoo. Every time he saw Y/N in the office, his heart would leap, and his mind would start racing with all the possibilities. He couldn’t shake the memory of their project, the casual touches, and the way she looked at him. Every moment replayed in his head, keeping him awake at night, wondering if she saw him the same way he saw her.

Despite the rush of excitement he felt inside, outwardly, he was still the same Wonwoo—quiet, reserved, and shy. He wanted to keep things normal, professional even, but his friends had other ideas.

“You’re really going to let this chance slip away?” Mingyu asked one night after work, tossing a pillow at him. “Dude, you’ve liked her since forever! Now you’re practically working together every day, and you’re just gonna stay quiet?”

Wonwoo sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s not that easy, Gyu. What if she doesn’t see me that way? I don’t want to ruin everything.”

Seungcheol, who had been scrolling through his phone, chimed in. “You don’t have to confess your love out of nowhere, man. Just… get closer to her. Be her friend. See where things go.”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Wonwoo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been in love with her from a distance for so long. Actually being around her now feels like… I don’t know, like I’m going to mess it up.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re overthinking this, as usual. Just talk to her. You work in the same office, it’s the perfect excuse.”

As much as Wonwoo hated to admit it, his friends were right. He couldn’t keep waiting for things to happen by chance. He needed to take a step forward. But how?

The opportunity presented itself the next morning.

Wonwoo was sitting at his desk, reviewing some reports, when Y/N approached him with a hesitant smile. “Hey, Wonwoo. Do you have a moment? I could really use your help with something.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression calm. “Sure, what do you need?”

Y/N explained that she was working on a new proposal but had hit a roadblock with the data analysis. “I know you’re great with numbers, and I’m kind of struggling,” she admitted with a small laugh. “Do you think you could take a look?”

For a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t believe she was asking for his help again. His mind raced, but he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I can take a look. Let’s go over it together.”

They ended up spending the next hour in one of the meeting rooms, poring over spreadsheets and brainstorming ideas. Wonwoo found himself relaxing as they worked, focusing more on the task at hand and less on the nervous energy buzzing inside him. Y/N was thoughtful and sharp, always open to his suggestions, and the way she engaged with him made his chest swell with a quiet pride.

As they wrapped up, Y/N turned to him with a grateful smile. “You’re seriously a lifesaver. I don’t know how I’d get through this without your help.”

Wonwoo’s face heated up, and he looked down at the table, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. You could’ve figured it out.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. But seriously, thank you. You’ve been great to work with.”

Before he could respond, their phones buzzed simultaneously—lunchtime. Y/N glanced at her watch and then back at him, hesitating for a second. “Hey, do you want to grab lunch together? It’s been a while since we’ve really talked outside of work.”

Wonwoo’s mind went blank. Lunch? With her? It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a meal, but it felt different now. This was just the two of them, and he didn’t want to overthink it. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

They ended up at a cozy little café near the office, sitting across from each other with steaming cups of coffee and sandwiches. It was the most casual setting they’d been in together in years, and for the first time, Wonwoo allowed himself to relax.

“So,” Y/N started, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, “how’s it been for you, working here? It’s kind of funny that we ended up in the same place after all these years.”

Wonwoo smiled softly. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it either. It’s been good. Different from school, but… in a good way.”

Y/N nodded. “Same here. I was nervous at first, but seeing familiar faces like yours makes it a lot easier.”

His heart flipped at the mention of him making things easier for her, but he tried to keep his cool. They talked more about work, shared memories from university, and slowly, Wonwoo realized how natural it felt being around her. She wasn’t just the girl he’d admired from afar anymore; she was someone he could talk to, laugh with, and maybe even get closer to.

That evening, back at the apartment, he couldn’t contain his excitement once again. His roommates were already waiting for the update as soon as he walked through the door.

“So? How’d it go?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward with a grin.

Wonwoo tried to keep his expression neutral, but the smile that broke through was unstoppable. “We had lunch together.”

Seungcheol sat up straighter. “Lunch? Just the two of you?”

Wonwoo nodded, the warmth spreading through him as he remembered their conversation. “Yeah. It was… it was nice. Really nice.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at you, getting all giddy over lunch. You’ve got it bad, man.”

“I know,” Wonwoo admitted, laughing softly. “But… I think I’m finally starting to see things move forward.”

And for the first time in years, that hope he’d held onto so tightly felt within reach.

As the days passed, the lunch with Y/N became a new routine. They started meeting up more often, sometimes in the office cafeteria, other times at the same cozy café nearby. It wasn’t anything special on the surface—just two colleagues grabbing a bite together—but to Wonwoo, it was everything. Every conversation, every shared laugh, every accidental brush of their hands felt like another step closer to something he had never let himself imagine before.

His roommates, of course, continued to tease him about it at every chance they got.

“So, any big developments?” Seungcheol asked one night, casually flipping through the channels on TV. “Did you hold hands yet?”

Wonwoo groaned, throwing a pillow at him from across the room. “No, we’re just… talking. It’s not like that.”

Mingyu, sprawled out on the couch, shot him a knowing look. “Not yet, maybe. But come on, man. You’re basically going on mini-dates every day. When are you going to make a move?”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo said quickly, though the idea of making a move had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. “We’re just friends. She probably doesn’t even see me that way.”

Seungcheol snorted. “You’re dense, dude. She’s spending all this time with you for a reason. No one’s that nice unless they want to be around you.”

Wonwoo frowned, unsure of what to believe. The thought that Y/N might feel something for him seemed too good to be true. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them crushed. But then again, the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary—it made him wonder. Maybe… just maybe…

The next week, everything changed.

They were working late one evening, finishing up a project that was due the next day. The office was quiet, most of the employees already gone, and it was just the two of them in the meeting room, typing away on their laptops. Wonwoo was focused on the task at hand, trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible, when Y/N suddenly broke the silence.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something?”

His fingers paused on the keyboard, and he looked up to find her staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Sure. What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip like she was gathering her thoughts. “Do you… ever think about what things could’ve been like if we’d been closer back in school? Like, if we’d been better friends or… something more?”

Wonwoo’s heart slammed in his chest. Her words were casual, almost uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in them that made his pulse race. He didn’t know how to respond—didn’t know what she was really asking—but he couldn’t lie to her. Not now.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Probably more than I should.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a small laugh. “I always wondered about you, you know. You were so quiet, so reserved. But you were always… there. I noticed.”

Wonwoo blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Of course I did,” she said, smiling. “I mean, you were always one of the smartest in the class, but you never tried to stand out. I thought that was interesting. You seemed… different.”

He swallowed hard, trying to process her words. All this time, he thought he’d been invisible to her, just a background character in her life. But now, sitting here with her, he realized that she’d been paying attention too.

“I always wanted to get to know you better,” Y/N continued, her voice quiet but sincere. “But I didn’t know how. You were so hard to approach.”

Wonwoo felt a lump form in his throat. He’d been so afraid of getting close to her, so afraid of rejection, that he never gave her a chance to know him. And now, here they were, years later, finally sitting across from each other, finally talking about the things that had been left unsaid for so long.

“I was… scared,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t think you’d ever be interested in someone like me.”

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening even more. “Why would you think that?”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were always so… perfect. Smart, popular, surrounded by people. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, smiling gently. “You’ve always had a chance, Wonwoo.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to something he’d dreamed of hearing for so long. But before he could find the words, Y/N reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against his.

“I know we’ve never been close,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “But I’d like to change that. If you’re open to it.”

Wonwoo stared at her, his mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was she really giving him the chance he’d always wanted?

“I’d like that too,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N’s smile widened, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like maybe—just maybe—everything he’d hoped for was within reach. They sat there for a few moments in silence, the warmth of her hand lingering on his, and for the first time in years, Wonwoo allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more.

That night, when he returned to the apartment, his friends didn’t even need to ask.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Mingyu teased, grinning from ear to ear. “What happened?”

Wonwoo dropped onto the couch, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “We talked. Really talked.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And…” Wonwoo paused, still trying to wrap his head around it all. “She said I’ve always had a chance.”

The room went silent for a moment, and then Mingyu let out a loud whoop, throwing a pillow at him. “Finally! Took you long enough!”

Seungcheol laughed, clapping him on the back. “Looks like things are finally falling into place.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh along with them, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. For the first time, he felt like the walls he’d built around his heart were starting to come down, and with Y/N on the other side, maybe—just maybe—his story was only just beginning.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART ELEVEN)

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 3,5K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, angst, talking about feelings

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

*Saturday, April 6th*

It was early in the morning when Oscar found himself seated in the meeting room. He wasn't alone, you, Zak & Sophie from the media team where there too. It was time for Oscar to get introduced to the one girl he absolutely did not want to meet. The one he was supposed to fake a relationship with.

The reason as to why you were there too, was Zak. He said something about it being important that you would meet the girl too, considering Oscar and you spend a lot of time together being his trainer. Zak pointed out that it would be practical for you to know some of the ins and outs as well.

Oscar looked around the room, his eyes landing on you, pressing his lip together. Almost as if he was silently apologizing to you, trying to not be obvious about the hidden knowledge between the two of you.

It was then when the door opened, a man and a woman walking in. She looked kind, she actually did. She was tall, skinny, had a slightly tanned skin & long brown locks. You could easily tell they tried to find someone with similar features to you, probably to make it more believable that it was her in those leaked pictures. She was pretty, very pretty. In your opinion, a lot more beautiful than you were. It stung a little, if you were being honest with yourself.

Oscar felt bad for you, for himself, but also for the other girl. Wondering if something similar brought her into this as well.

Zak's eyes lit up, a professional smile spreading across his lips. He stood up from his seat, gesturing to the man and woman to take a seat.

"Oscar, Sophie, Y/n, this is Ava, the lovely lady we told you about" he started, looking briefly at the lady. His eyes then shifted to the man next to her "And this is her manager, Liam" he continued.

Ava smiled kindly at all of you, first leaning over the table to hold her hand out to Oscar. He shook her hand and send her a polite smile "Nice to meet you, I'm Oscar, but you probably already knew that" he said, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

The brunette returned a smile "Likewise" she spoke, before moving her attention over to Sophie, introducing herself to her as well, before shifting her attention to you.

She held out her hand, her nails perfectly manicured. When you took her hand and shook it. She send you a smile.

"Nice to meet you!" you weakly spoke, your tone kind, but laced with an uncertainty "I'm Y/n, I'm Oscar's trainer and physio"

"That's lovely" she spoke with an honest smile.

"So, Liam and I have already talked a bit about what could be a plan" Sophie started, clearly not the one to have came up with this fake dating plan. She sounded as if she only said these things, because she had to.

Liam nodded, a smile on his face "We were thinking it might be a good start for Ava to be in the McLaren motorhome tomorrow during the grand prix. Maybe wearing something that's Oscar's, like a bracelet" he started, his attention shifting to Ava "Then maybe after the race, we could arrange for Oscar to walk by you briefly, maybe brushing your hands or him quickly hugging before he walks on?"

Oscar looked at Sophie and Liam, his breath catching in his throat. Not in a good way, but in a way that made him realize how real this all was getting "Y-Yeah.. sure"

Ava nodded "Sure, I think that could work"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

Oscar sat on the edge of the small couch in his driver's room, hands clasped loosely in his lap as he glanced at Ava. She was perched on the other end, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her kind smile didn't quite reach her eyes, though, and Oscar could tell she was just as unsure about this arrangement as he was.

"So," he started, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "This is... definitely a strange situation to be in."

Ava let out a soft laugh, nodding. "You can definitely say that, yes. It's not every day you agree to fake date someone you barely know."

Oscar's lips twitched into a small, half-hearted smile. "True. I mean, I get why it's necessary, but it's still... weird." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Did you get into this in the same way?"

She tilted her head, considering his question. "Something like that. It's complicated, I guess."

Oscar nodded, his mind flashing to the conversation with his manager, the pressure of the rumors swirling around him and you. But he didn't want to get into all that. Not with Ava, not yet.

"Yeah, I get that," he said, leaning back a little. "I'm sure we both have our reasons for agreeing to this."

Ava's smile softened. "I'm not really one for drama, to be honest. But sometimes you just have to play along, right?"

Oscar chuckled lightly. "Yeah, exactly. I'm not a fan of all this PR stuff, either. But, I guess it's part of the job sometimes."

They shared a brief, understanding look, the tension between them easing slightly. Ava shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, how do you want to play this?"

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "Well, we don't have to overdo it. Just enough to make it believable. We can show up together to events, act friendly—like we're getting to know each other. I don't think anyone expects us to be all over each other."

"Agreed," Ava said, relief in her voice. "I think we should just be ourselves, but maybe add a bit more... I don't know, closeness? Like we're actually interested in each other."

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. We don't want it to look obviously fake."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the awkwardness from earlier gradually fading. Oscar found himself relaxing a bit more around her. She was easy to talk to, and he appreciated her straightforwardness. Though she was not you.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Ava asked, her tone light but curious.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, this is a first for me. Feels a bit like acting, doesn't it?"

Ava laughed softly. "Yeah, but without a script. We'll have to improvise."

"I'm not great at improvising," Oscar admitted with a playful grin.

"Well, good thing I'm here then, perks of being an actress" Ava teased gently. "I'll cover for you."

"Thanks," he said, his smile growing. "I appreciate that."

They lapsed into another easy silence, and Oscar found himself feeling grateful that Ava wasn't making this harder than it needed to be. Despite the odd circumstances, she seemed genuinely kind, and that put him at ease.

"Let's just take it one step at a time," Ava said finally. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah," Oscar agreed. "One step at a time."

As they sat there, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of all the chaos outside, Oscar couldn't help but think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad. As long as he could keep things clear between them—and with the reader—he could get through this. And, with any luck, things would settle down soon enough.

After that they spend some time getting to know each other, just so it wouldn't be awkward when they would have to do interviews. He learned that Ava was 22 years old and born in Australia, but moved to the UK at a young age, something Oscar and her had in common. Ava told Oscar that she had started acting when she was just a kid, so she kinda rolled her way in it when she was young.

Oscar, on his turn, told her about his hobbies outside of F1. He told her about you. Explaining that you have been best friends for a while, leaving out the detail of your feelings for each other. Not wanting to break his promise to you.

"She's the girl you hooked up with according to the media, right?" she asked, honestly interested.

Oscar stayed silent, but did give her a soft nod.

"That explains the awkward look you both had in the meeting" she replied with a laugh "Let me guess, shit-faced drunk?"

Oscar laughed "Pretty much covers it, yes" he stated, scratching the back of his neck.

Ava send him a compassionate smile, folding her hands in her lap "So, let me get this straight" she started, a chuckle leaving her lips "The girl you kissed is not only your trainer, she's also your best friend. And to top it off, she's also your teammates sister"

Oscar shrugged "Yep"

"Yeah, that makes it all a whole lot more complicated" she laughed.

Ava then leaned back on the couch a little, looking back up at Oscar "Before I forget to ask. Liam mentioned that it maybe would be smart to discuss our boundaries. You know, considering the things we have to do. Affectionate wise"

Oscar looked back at the other Aussie, then shifting his gaze to his lap. Time for the awkward stuff, he thought.

"I'm fine with anything to be honest, I'm used to it all considering my job. So if you're up for it, I'm fine with kissing, if that helps convince the public eye"

Oscar felt a tight knot forming in his stomach as Ava brought up the topic of boundaries. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt as he avoided her gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be convincing in this whole fake dating scenario—it was just that every time he thought about doing anything more than the basics, guilt hit him like a punch to the gut. Your face flashed in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah, um,” he started, voice a little shaky, “I guess we should talk about that.”

Ava nodded, her expression calm and open. “I know this is weird, and I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of putting on a show either, but if we’re going to do this, we should be on the same page.”

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m… I’m kind of socially awkward, to be honest. I mean, I’m fine with doing some stuff, like, a hug or holding hands maybe. A kiss on the cheek is okay too, I guess. But anything more than that—” He hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. “I just… I don’t know.”

Ava tilted her head slightly, her eyes gentle. “That’s fine, Oscar. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. This whole thing is just acting, right? We can take it slow, one step at a time.”

He glanced at her, grateful for her understanding. But even as she spoke, he couldn’t help but feel like he was betraying you. You hadn’t exactly defined what you were, but the thought of pretending to be with someone else, even just for show, made his chest ache.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, looking down at his lap. “It’s just… complicated, you know?”

Ava seemed to pick up on his unease, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, I get it. Really. But you can trust me, okay? I’m not here to make things harder for you. We’ll go at your pace. And if it ever gets too much, just let me know, and we’ll dial it back.”

Her words were sincere, and he found himself relaxing a little, but the nagging feeling of guilt still lingered. He knew she was right—it was just acting, and it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, the idea of kissing Ava, even if it was just for show, felt wrong. Like he was betraying something fragile and precious between the two of you.

“But, if you’re up for it,” Ava continued cautiously, “a real kiss could help sell it. But only if you’re okay with it. We don’t have to, Oscar. Not if you don’t want to.”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew she was just trying to be professional about the whole thing, but it still felt like a rock was sitting on his chest. “I know, it probably is… I just have to think about it, I guess. It’s not that I don’t want to be convincing, it’s just—”

“You’re not comfortable with it,” Ava finished for him gently. “That’s okay. We can stick to hugs, holding hands and kissing each others cheek.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, giving her a weak smile. “I appreciate that.”

"I just suggested it, since in the pictures that got leaked, it all seemed pretty intense. So I thought, that might sell it a little better, but.." Ava smiled back, her eyes soft. “We’ll figure this out, Oscar. Just remember, this is all for show. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He nodded, though he couldn’t quite shake the unease. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he also couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him. He needed to tread carefully, not just for the sake of the act, but for the sake of whatever it was between you and him. And maybe, just maybe, he could get through this without messing everything up.

"I gotta go now, tho. Liam needed me for something around this time" Ava spoke as she looked at her phone, her voice soft and understanding.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks again" Oscar replied, not moving from his spot on the couch.

Ava stood up, but not before bending down over the couch, kissing Oscar gently on his cheek "Well, see you later, boyfriend" she said, before sending him a cheeky wink and leaving the room.

*Later that day*

A few hours had passed, and you found yourself sprawled out on the couch in Lando's hotel room. The evening had been spent in casual conversation with your brother over dinner, discussing random topics that flitted in and out of your minds. But now, the silence in the room was thick, heavy with unspoken words. Lando had noticed your shift in behavior, the way you’d grown quieter, more introspective, and it was starting to concern him.

He watched you carefully, his brow furrowed with worry. The quiet stretched on, and eventually, he broke it, his voice gentle but insistent. “You know you can always talk to me if something’s bothering you, right? That’s what big brothers are for,” he pointed out, his eyes soft as they searched your face for a clue.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting away from his. The guilt gnawed at you, the weight of the secret you’d been keeping pressing down on your chest. Lando knew some things, sure, but he didn’t know the whole truth about you and Oscar. The part where you and Oscar had crossed that line from friends to something more, something you hadn’t been ready to share with anyone else yet. And keeping that from Lando, of all people, made you feel terrible.

“You’ve just been different,” Lando continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, tinged with the slightest hint of disappointment. “You’re so silent. Normally, you always tell me everything. Is it the whole fake-dating thing that Oscar has to do?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a pang of anxiety ripple through you. “No?” The word slipped out, but it sounded more like a question than the firm denial you wished it could be.

Lando rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?” he pointed out, leaning back slightly as he observed you with that perceptive gaze of his.

You sighed deeply, sinking into the couch in defeat. There was no point in pretending anymore; Lando could always see right through you. “Ugh, fine,” you huffed, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “To answer your question... Technically, no, but also yes.”

Lando raised an eyebrow at you, silently urging you to elaborate. The way he looked at you, with that mixture of concern and patience, made it even harder to keep things hidden. Another sigh escaped your lips as you met his gaze, knowing you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I get why he has to do it,” you began, your voice low and tinged with frustration. “The reasoning behind it makes sense. Besides, it means nothing—it’s just a business deal.”

Lando nodded slowly, waiting for you to continue. He could sense there was more, much more, that you needed to get off your chest.

“But…” you trailed off, your voice catching in your throat. You hesitated, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. Admitting it out loud made it all too real, and that terrified you. But Lando was patient, his presence steady and comforting, like an anchor you could cling to in the storm of your emotions.

“But it’s complicated,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. “Oscar and I… We’ve been trying things. We decided to give it a shot, you know, without labels. And it felt great, Lando. It really did. But then, not even a week later, this whole fake dating thing comes up, and it just… sucks.”

Lando’s expression softened even more, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently. You could see the concern in his eyes, but there was also an unspoken encouragement there, urging you to keep going.

“It sucks because… because I wish things weren’t so complicated,” you continued, your hands wringing together in your lap as you struggled to put your feelings into words. “He’s your teammate, I’m your sister, and we work together. It’s already a mess. And now with this PR stunt… I can’t help but wish I could just allow myself to fully be his. But I can’t. It’s like… I’m holding myself back.”

Lando reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting, and it made you feel a little less alone in your confusion. “You’re in love with him,” he stated softly, more of a realization than a question.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “Yeah, I am. Honestly, I’m so in love with Oscar. But I’m scared, Lando. Scared of what happens if we make it real. What if it all goes wrong?”

Lando’s thumb brushed gently against your shoulder, a small gesture that carried so much understanding. “You know, sometimes things are worth the risk,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful. “If you’re both feeling this way, then it’s real, with or without a label. And sometimes, putting a label on it doesn’t change anything—it just makes it easier to define what you have.”

You looked at him, biting your lip as you considered his words. “Maybe,” you murmured, “but it’s still scary. And then there’s Zak, and the team… I just don’t want to make things harder for Oscar.”

“Have you thought about talking to Zak?” Lando suggested gently. “Maybe it wouldn’t be as big of a deal as you think. And Oscar’s strong, he can handle this. You don’t have to carry it all on your own.”

You nodded slowly, the idea swirling in your mind. Maybe Lando was right. Maybe talking to Zak could ease some of the pressure. But there was still that gnawing insecurity that wouldn’t leave you alone.

“I thought about it, but I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. Also, the PR thing might be the solution to, you know, fix things,” you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I understand why it’s necessary, and I don’t mind it too much, not really. But it still sucks. It sucks to see the person you love having to act like that in front of the cameras with someone who’s not you. Someone who’s way prettier, someone who wouldn’t make everything so complicated.”

Lando’s eyes softened, and he squeezed your shoulder gently. “Are you afraid he’ll fall for her during this PR stunt? That you’ll lose him?”

You let out a shaky breath, the question hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “I guess I am,” you whispered. “I definitely trust him. I know he wouldn’t do anything, but… I’d understand if he did. It would be less complicated with someone like her, and besides, we don’t have any labels. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

Lando shook his head slightly, his expression firm. “Oscar is head over heels for you, sis. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—there’s no way he’d want to look at anyone else like that. Not even for a second.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the cold fears that had been gnawing at you. You took a deep breath, letting the tension in your shoulders ease just a little. “Thanks, Lando,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of gratitude.

“Anytime,” he replied, pulling you into a gentle hug. You rested your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing. The conversation wasn’t easy, but it had been necessary, and now, with Lando’s support, you felt a little more prepared to face whatever came next.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor

[sukioyakio]

тнє ¢яαzу тнιηgs ι ѕαу

Pairing Gojo Satoru x femreader

An: here is something to eat while I’m working on my choso fanfic.But anyway here a crack fluff writing.Lovesick Gojo.Drabble non-proread so sorry about the grammar. mowed count like around 300 I think.

”Shoko I think I’m lesbian”Gojo said confidently with a wide smile as if he said that he could fly as high to touch the clouds again just like when there were teenagers.

Shoko drop her cigarette onto the ground beneath them,as he turned her head to the side with a shock, disbelief,and dumbfounded all together painted on her face. As she see her friend smiling like a complete fool.

She pauses to grab her thoughts and her intelligence for this.Because what on earth did he just said. . .

As if Gojo read shoko mind.He repeated for her. “I’m lesbian shoko”He stare into the blue sky,of the jujitsu school second floor;where they were at.Shoko still look at him with dumbfounded eyes.

“What?..”She answered with disbelief running as clear as her confused eyes. She was usually good dealing with Gojo stupidity as such as he was very much a man child.But his dumb question wasn’t for her to deal with but for her partner to deal with.And that being his best friend.But sadly he wasn’t here at the time since he was in a mission at the moment.

She look at him and he look at her with such a prideful smile and his clear ocean eyes filled with love and devotion.

Before shoko could ask him for a clearer explanation of his words.He began talking with such animated expressions.

“I mean it,like this girl has my heart in diabetes, steroids, drugs!Like When I see her. . . god” He heartfelt-Ly sighs “ It like I’m looking at an angel,or one of those beautiful ancient paintings.She is very different from what am I known;opposite do attracted shoko.

-She feisty,Ambition,Conscientious,Ethical and many more but Holy lord,if you seen the way she trains when she alone,i swear the air between her thigh would be m- ahem. . ." Gojo Clears his throat,looking away from shook face,blush painted onto his cheeks,as he continues.

"She doesn’t give people to tell her what to do,she'll bite back like a hot black Panther-”He says Practically vibrating with energy,waving his hands animatedly while his continues talking.

“She has this side,that makes me feel like I'm Someone around her"-he mumbles lowly'like you and surguru'- "And the way that she willing to protect her students from danger or from the higher up-that to me is Strong signals of love since we do the same for our students.But you should see how kind she is to her students even when she is upset or mad at them and she always insisted gives me sweet for everything she hurts me”He grinning from ear to ear as he talk to shoko about you.And this makes his cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

Shoko now looks at him,giving out a huff of a sly smile before becoming a sigh.She was still confused with her male friend literally in front of her saying that ‘his lesbian’. She just see him rapid fire he burning love about this girl towards her .Basically letting him yap to her. But she interrupted him.

“Ok but how does this make you lesbian?If your literally talking about a girl who you are in-love with.Do you know what the sexuality lesbian means right?”She announce with her arm crossed.She really doesn’t care who this girl(you) is, it wasn’t her thing to ask him who the mysterious girl is and has no plans too,because if one thing for sure is that he'll talk about his sex life to her and she really doesn't care. (She gonna find out soon enough,time will tell)

That interpretation effortlessly making Gojo stop his yap session and listening to her words completely collecting the words that made out of her mouth and replies.“ Yea,I know what lesbian means duh and yep im totally lesbian shoko.Lesbian,lesbian lesbian that my sexuality doc.” He finishes with smirk with a cocky smile on his perfect pink lips.

As shoko palms herself,and loudly groans.And mumbles “I swear to lord that you do this to make me fucking go dumb,and dumber with each one of your questions,Gojo” Before rubbing her nose bridge with her hand.

Gojo looking at her with offensive look. “I’m being very serious here with you shoko,It not one of my dumb comments or weird questions nor recommendations,shoko” Gojo replied with a serious expression on his face,one shoko seen rare times on his face.

Shoko just shrugs and shake her head with disbelief,before talking again. “Ok. . .but let me explain you what lesbian means because I think your confused;lesbian means when two Females are in love,meaning girls are in love physically and sexually with each other.But If your a male in this situation and you say that you like a girl, it means your straight” She says with a steady voice.Looking at Gojo nods at shoko words.

“Yep still Lesbian” He says with his chest high.Shoko huff out in annoyance as she slaps herself in the face.Having to deal with his stubbornness and over the top random talks.

“I’m very much lesbian,because it means only girls x me,I am very much attracted to girls,Only girls,why can't you see that".-he quietly wines"-Im pretty sad that you don’t understand me” Gojo face drops with a mocking sad face. “I’m done with you,your making me lose brain cells ,when I need them to heal my patients” She answered back to him,as she leave him alone.Walking away from him,just to hear him footsteps come along her way.And chatting with her again about his love of his life,as well covering his eyes with his black blind fold.

While She walks downstairs with him taking most of the space of the little staircase,afterwards they walk towards the hallways where the teaching rooms were set.

Then suddenly shoko hears footsteps walking there way.Then seeing it was you,and somehow notice how Gojo was standing there still with his mouth closed,completely stop talking and his lips turn into a sly smile.Shoko knew you,you were the teacher from Kyoto jujustus high school who had been working with her best friend utahime. ’Oh it (___).Is she here to give Mr. Yaga something from Kyoto’

As soon you walk over there with a quiet smile on your lips,giving shoko a smile and Gojo an annoyed look.Which wasn't uncommon for you to do that.

Shoko began talking.”Hey (___),what you doing here in Tokyo today,Are you Here to give Mr Yaga some paper or something?” Shoko spoke in nonchalantly to you.

You sigh when you heard her spoke about the topic of Yaga.”Sadly yes,I had to do extra paper work,because of Someone here who decided to go along in my assigned mission and make a complete mess of thing,mhmm.Gojo Satoru”

shoko swear that Gojo just grow a pair of ears and a dog tail wailing in happiness even if he faces shows with a cocky smile.

As Gojo chuckles loudly at your comments about him,making you huff out in annoyance,completely rolling your eyes.

“Why are you so mean”he says with mockery with a smile”I’ll was just looking out for our sweet lovely teacher,plus we can’t lose another beauty,right?” He says with his composure strong, and give you a playful smirk.Hoping you would blush from his comment but failed. Shoko looks at him and you, and instantly realizes that your this man child loving crush.And that only makes her want to roll her eyes out for not knowing who it was instantly;now that she think about it.It was as obvious as a tree in a desert.

You bluff out,before replying back “I am completely fine without your assistance and I was completely fine when I was in my mission,Satoru Gojo and now ill got to do extra work” you spoke in a steady pace,also with a firm voice.Your eyes brow furrowed now in frustration.

Gojo was easily countered with his body leaning forward completely towering you,and leans more close to you.Like he always does with everyone.It in his nature to invade people's personal space.

"My lord,Can't I even visit My favorite teacher in Kyoto. .You know it honestly make me sad that you weren't happy to see your handsome knight in shining armor" He replied back with a teasing manner,As you roll your eyes,with some pink blush forming in your cheeks crossing your arms,not trying to appear weak.

Eyes looking deep into his blind fold."I hope it did made you sad,because now I have to deal with paperwork for my day off" You snap at him with a calm voice,you lean away from your guys close proximity.You notice how he completely hover you so effortlessly, making you wonder'were you this short';you could practically smell his intense yet calming cologne.Before mumbling "Stupid Jake frost wanna be" Not caring if he heard you.

He stop leaning toward you,his heart pounding with eagerness.As he compose himself.Before chuckling in radiant feats;a perfect shade of pink was painted on his face.He found you absolutely adorable, And fucking perfect in his eyes.

You mumble about him being Jake frost made him crackle.It would infrared you that he was mocking you;you couldn't bring yourself up to punching him when he smiling like that.

Shoko stood there,dumbfounded by you and him,like she was watching two pair of dummies Flirt.More like gojo trying to use his teenager boyish type of flirting towards you.

At least shoko could understand your part,how the hell were you supposed to know whether he likes someone,when he this jolly to everyone. But for gojo to be laying around the brushes and not acting like a man,or not having confidence with his next move or not making the first move;was killing her intensely.

'He act like a Teenager-" she mentally groans '-Oh my god,Seeing right in front of makes me even think that the doctor exams were more easy than having to see them' Shoko Spoke in her mind,as she rubs her temples in frustration.

She really needed to smoke a cigarette again.As if on cue,you quietly dismiss yourself that utahime need help in kyoto and so you, walk away from where they were.Shoko was looking at you walk away until she couldn't anymore but she already could tell that he was watching you intently.especially with all six of his eyes.

Turning her head towards gojo,He has this big dorky smile and more blush creep up onto his face.He nonchalantly return to standing right beside shoko.

"That the girl you love"

"That the girl I love"

Both shoko and gojo said in unison.Gojo let out a dreamy sigh before looking down at shoko with his blind fold on.He chuckled a bit when he heard her said the same thing as him.

"I'm sooo lesbian for that girl.That the girl I will deliver the world too" He said with plain calm voice.With a cheeky grin.Effectively making shoko groan loudly."it called straight,lovesick idiot"

She walked ahead of him,shouting at him.,"I'm done with your ass satoru! I need a smoke session without you breaking my brain for the day" She says nonchalantly without looking back as she wave him away,and while walking away she could hear gojo rich, honey driping like laughter;making her sigh with a sly smile before taking out a cigarette a lighting it up.Placing it into her mouth.

"What an idiot” she mutter before puffing out airs of smoke that cover her with her the nature smell of a cigarette.

As Gojo was nagging you,as you punched him to stop annoying her.

Thanks for reading this and may your day be the best day. Also tell me your thought on this 5:am written story.

@sukioyakio 2024

@lil-annonie @mxrgodsstuff @scoobysnakz @lynxslokley @mononijikayu

[elumish]

I talk about what writers should do a lot, so now I'm going to take a break and talk about some reforms that I think agents should make.

A caveat: I am not an agent! Unlike when I talk about writing, I am just talking about this as an author who happens to be in the midst of querying. If I have an followers who are agents who think I'm getting something wrong, please let me know!

That said, here I go:

Trad publishing is, fundamentally, about getting past a whole bunch of layers of gatekeepers, and agents are the first gatekeepers. With some very limited exceptions, you can't be trad published without having an agent. From what I can tell, being an agent is a bit of a thankless job--it's based on commission, so an agent only gets money if they are selling their clients' books. (Remember: the money flows towards the writer. If someone claiming to be an agent is telling you that you need to pay them to represent you, run.)

Because of this structure, agents have a massive amount of power over unagented authors, particularly because unagented authors simply do not have another option if they want to trad publish. It is my opinion that that power dynamic is part of the reason why querying actually sucks so unbelievably much for authors.

Now, part of why querying sucks is that it's a numbers game, which means that most of us will lose. Every writer is competing against a gazillion other writers, some of whom are better or writing things that are seen as more sellable or happen to be eariler or whatever. You are going to get a bunch of rejections, and that's not the fault of agents.

But here's the other problem:

There are, from what I can tell, no true industry standards and somewhat limited professional expectations for agents when it comes to how to deal with querying. Again, this is what it looks like from the outside--agents, if I'm getting this wrong, please let me know.

For example, many agencies and many agents will have different rules about what you can submit to them and how, and in many cases those rules are in somewhat arbitrary places, which means that querying authors have to hunt for them, and it's easy to run afoul of them even when you're trying. It's common for some agencies to say that you can't query two agents from the same agency at the same time, but some say that you can't query two agents from them ever--a rejection from one is a rejection from all.

But most agents' Twitter bios/MSWL pages/personal pages/etc. don't say that--which means that authors need to hunt through every individual agency's webpage and then cross-reference against every agent that they have ever queried previously, which can be arduous when many people are querying dozens or hundreds of agents. It also means needing to keep track of things like when agents switch agencies.

There are also no standard expectations for agents to actually respond to queries in any sort of time span, or at all, which complicates the above issue even more. But it also is just (imho) kind of unprofessional to ghost people who are seeking a professional relationship with you, when you have explicitly asked them to reach out to you seeking that professional relationship.

And to make that worse, many agents don't say whether or not they respond to all queries, meaning that authors are often left wondering if a 6-month or longer wait is a "no" or an "I haven't gotten to this yet but will definitely respond to you."

There are more issues that I could cite, but my overall point in this is that authors have no recourse here. There's not authors' union, no way to go on strike until agents change what they're doing.

And some agents are really awesome about this! But enough are not, and authors don't really know what they're going to get when they query someone.

So all of this is to say that, if you are an agent, here are some fairly easy changes I would love for you to make to your own behavior to make querying a little bit less of a nightmarish hellscape for authors (and thank you so much if you already do some or all of these):

Respond to every query that you receive

Tell people your general response times and be communicative if that changes. It's okay if it regularly takes you six months! Just tell us it regularly takes you six months, so we're not left wondering if we've been ghosted at four months

Outline all submission guidelines on Query Manager or where you accept queries, including things like a) rules about whether a rejection from one is a rejection from all, b) length expectations for things like synopses (I've seen a range), and c) any other expectations you have (e.g., you require trigger warnings). Don't make people hunt through 2-4 websites to find what you want

Stop asking or at least strongly rethink how you ask about Own Voices or why an author feels like they are qualified to write about a marginalized identity--I understand the impulse, but nobody should be expected to disclose medical or other personal information like that in a professional setting

Also, just to say (other than please don't reject my query because of this post), agents: authors really do appreciate the work you all do. I want someone to work with to get published, because I am very well aware that I am not the expert in this situation.

And again, please tell me if I got anything wrong or misrepresented anything.

[corviiids]

oh would love to see ur breakdown of whether or not miles could do it tho. if not him then do u think polly could do it

verdict: miles edgeworth could beat kira but not without help and significant damage to his psyche. as a player character he could do it with support. as an npc he would support phoenix to figure it out but would argue the entire time

could miles edgeworth intuit the mechanics of the death note

not at first instance. probably not at all. i think if miles edgeworth received the right combination of clues and/or (but preferably and) was forced to eliminate literally every other option, he would accept the mechanics of the death note as factual. however i don't think 'magic notebook that kills people' would ever enter miles edgeworth's mental realm of things that are possible without someone/something very firmly pointing him towards that fact. he would not arrive at this conclusion on his own. also, phoenix meekly bringing up the possibility in court would give him a migraine.

could miles edgeworth identify light yagami

yes. i think edgeworth would ultimately be able to kira even without intuiting the death note's mechanics. i think figuring out how the book works is the very last stage in this inquisition. but i think he would be able to ID light as a person of interest even without solid information on means and i also think he would really enjoy his verbal battle with light yagami and by enjoy i mean miles edgeworth enjoys talking to people that make him want to tear his hair out. can we all take a second to imagine mind chess/logic chess light yagami edition? can we please think about that

could miles edgeworth survive

yes - see my post about shi long lang:

yes i think he survives owing to the rules of the ace attorney universe which he brought with him, namely that a culprit in ace attorney will politely sit and cooperate while you argue with them and will admit when you've defeated them in argument, which is the least realistic thing about ace attorney. so i think light wouldn't make a move to try and kill lang until his Culprit Breakdown, at which point lang could simply kick him in the shins and pluck the notebook out of his hands because light is three toothpicks taped together.

(miles wouldnt kick light in the shins but if lang, franziska, kay, or gumshoe is there they would do it for him while miles does that arms crossed eyes closed pose about it.)

also noteworthy is that miles would give a speech about how he would gladly risk his own life to kira if it means uncovering the truth

(i put apollo under the cut because this post is too long)

verdict: apollo justice could beat light yagami but i think he would need trucy for help and motivation

could apollo intuit the mechanics of the death note

not organically but i think in true trained by phoenix wright tradition he'd kind of arrive there in a moment of panic by pure accident. trucy would say something nuts and apollo would be like

APOLLO The only thing the witness has on him is a notebook!

TRUCY

Hey, anything can be a murder weapon if you try your best and believe in yourself!

APOLLO What's he going to do with a notebook, write me to death?

APOLLO .........

TRUCY Uh, Polly? You've got a weird face on.

APOLLO I just had a really bad idea.

could apollo justice identify light yagami

i think apollo would be taken in by light for the most part like, kind of kristoph style... listen the bracelet is a weird mechanic. people literally lie all day long forever and apollo only catches specific, gameplay convenient things, just like phoenix with the magatama. (we're back at 'why dont you just question your client with your truth telling powers from the beginning' and the answer is because it is a video game with a narrative that needs gameplay and stakes.) so i think apollo catches light in a couple of white lies and then dismisses it for the most part as like, light's just one of those weird guys with a fakey persona but who is mostly harmless, and light generally tries not to lie directly in favour of speaking vaguely around the truth, so it doesn't really ping apollo as particularly strange until near the end of the case where apollo is like. ive been getting weird vibes from this guy from the start what if that like. means something

anyway i think he'd figure out that it's light in like a tense moment where he feels like trucy or himself or someone else is in danger

could apollo justice survive

yes for the same reasons as above but i think it's a close thing. like i think light gets "Apollo Justic" written in the book before trucy throws a knife at him and nails the death note to the wall and then apollo is like (Y-y-yikes!!! That was close!)

[thirtysomethingloser92]

If you don't take requests that's so fine please ignore me but if you do can I request a plus size reader/ Gambit. I'm just feeling a little insecure today and i feel like he would be a thick person enjoyer. Thank you, you're my inspiration

My Darling I'm so sorry you're feeling like that today. I hope this cheers you up.

You stared at your reflection, frowning as you tugged at the hem of your shirt for the hundredth time. No matter how much you adjusted it, it still didn’t sit the way you wanted. The fabric clung to your stomach, revealing every curve and bump you didn’t want to see. Your jeans, which had once been your favorite pair, now felt too tight, pinching at your waist and making you feel like you were bursting out of them.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked the shirt off entirely and tossed it onto the pile of rejected clothes on your bed. The mirror reflected your bare skin now, and you couldn’t help but notice the way your stomach rounded, the way your thighs touched, the fullness of your hips. All of it felt too much. Too much body, too much space, too much of everything.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you could shrink away from your own reflection. It was one of those days where nothing felt right. The clothes that usually made you feel confident and comfortable now felt like costumes, ill-fitting and awkward. The little voice in the back of your mind, the one that whispered cruel things about your body, was louder than ever today.

"Why did I even agree to go out?" you thought, staring at the mess of clothes around you. Remy had asked you out earlier that day, suggesting a casual dinner in the city—just the two of you. He had looked so excited, flashing you that irresistible grin of his, and you had agreed without hesitation. But now, standing here in front of the mirror, you felt like it had been a mistake. You didn’t feel like yourself. You didn’t feel worthy.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you sat down heavily on the bed, burying your face in your hands. You loved being with Remy—he was charming, kind, and always made you laugh. But sometimes, it was hard to quiet the voice that told you he could do better. That he deserved someone who looked like the women he’d been with before—slender, toned, effortlessly beautiful.

A soft knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Chère, y' ready?" Remy’s voice was warm, but there was a hint of curiosity in it. "We gon' be late if y' don’t hurry."

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t want him to see you like this—not when you felt so exposed, so vulnerable. A part of you considered pretending to be sick, making up some excuse not to go. But you knew that wouldn’t fool him. Remy was too perceptive for that.

"I… I don’t think I’m going to go," you called out, your voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound casual. You hoped he’d drop it, that he’d understand without asking too many questions, "Maybe we can just do something here?"

There was a long pause, and for a moment you thought he might have walked away. But then the door creaked open, and Remy stepped inside. He shut the door behind him quietly, his eyes immediately scanning the room before settling on you. His brow furrowed slightly in concern.

"Now, what y' talkin' 'bout, chère?" he asked, his voice soft but firm. "Why y' don’t wanna go?"

You avoided his gaze, staring at the floor instead. "I’m just… not feeling up to it, that’s all."

Remy wasn’t a man easily fooled, and you could tell by the way he crossed the room to stand in front of you that he wasn’t buying your excuse. His eyes flickered to the pile of clothes on the bed, and then to the way you sat hunched over, arms crossed protectively over your body.

"Somethin's botherin' ya," he said quietly, crouching down so that he was on eye level with you. His red-on-black eyes, always so intense yet gentle, searched your face. "Talk t' me."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill over. You didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want him to know how insecure you were feeling, how much you hated what you saw in the mirror today. But the weight of it all was too much to carry alone.

It had been building for a while, this gnawing pit of self-doubt that seemed to grow larger whenever you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t remember exactly when it started—maybe it had been creeping in for years, little comments here and there, comparisons to other women who seemed to glide through life effortlessly, their bodies molded to perfection. Or maybe it was something deeper, an old voice that had always lingered in the back of your mind, whispering that you weren’t enough.

And today, that voice was louder than ever.

Your chest felt tight, your throat constricting as you tried to hold it together. The last thing you wanted was for Remy to see this side of you—the side that felt small, fragile, and vulnerable. He was always so confident, so sure of himself, and you didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities. You didn’t want to be the one who cracked under the pressure of something as trivial as your reflection in the mirror.

But gods, it didn’t feel trivial. Not today.

Every time you looked at yourself, all you could see were the things you wished you could change. The way your clothes hugged your body a little too tightly, the way your stomach wasn’t flat, the way your thighs touched. It was as if every part of you was magnified, exaggerated, and you couldn’t escape it. You had tried—tried to brush it off, tried to focus on the things that you liked about yourself. But those thoughts were drowned out by the louder ones, the ones that told you that you weren’t enough. That no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you would never quite measure up.

And the worst part? Standing in front of Remy, with his eyes on you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he must see it too. He had to. How could he not? He was gorgeous—dangerously handsome—with that smirk that could weaken knees, and a body that looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. He had been with women who were stunning, women who looked like they belonged on magazine covers, and here you were, feeling like you didn’t even belong in the same room.

The thought made your chest ache, the tears stinging behind your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You didn’t want to break down and tell him how ugly you felt, how unworthy you felt. The shame of it was too heavy, too raw. But it was getting harder to hold it in, harder to pretend that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

For a moment, there was silence between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes fixed on the floor as if it could somehow swallow you up and save you from having to confront the truth. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, though—steady, patient, waiting. Remy wasn’t the type to push if you weren’t ready to talk, but you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let this go. Not when he could see how much it was hurting you.

And that was the thing—Remy always saw you. He saw you in ways that you sometimes wished he didn’t. He saw past the walls you tried to put up, past the bravado you sometimes used to hide your insecurities. He was always watching, always noticing the little things, the things you thought you were hiding so well. And that scared you, because it meant you couldn’t pretend with him. Not for long.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy in the air, and you felt the dam starting to crack. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to admit how deeply the insecurities had burrowed into your heart, how much they weighed you down. But the burden of carrying it alone was suffocating, and Remy was standing there, waiting, offering you a lifeline without even saying a word.

"I…" Your voice broke, and you hated how small it sounded, how fragile. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears were dangerously close now, and you knew there was no holding them back. "I don’t feel good, Remy. With me."

It was such a simple sentence, but it felt like you had just ripped open your chest and laid bare everything you had been trying to hide. You could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes now, and you quickly turned your face away, not wanting him to see. You hated how emotional you were getting over this, hated that you couldn’t just shake it off like you thought you should.

But you couldn’t. Not today.

You felt Remys hands on your thighs, his thumbs drawing small circles on the skin, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a protective shield. He didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, you wondered if he even understood. Maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe he couldn’t. How could someone like him—so effortlessly confident, so sure of himself—understand what it felt like to look in the mirror and hate what you saw?

But then you felt his hand, warm and gentle, on your arm. His touch was so soft, so cautious, as if he knew exactly how fragile you were in that moment. He didn’t try to pull you into a hug or force you to look at him. He just crouched there, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, grounding you with his presence.

"Chère," he said softly, his voice like a soothing balm. "I’m right here."

And that was all it took. The dam broke, and the tears spilled over, silent but heavy as they slid down your cheeks. You felt your shoulders shake with the effort of holding it all in, but it was too much. The weight of your insecurities, the fear of not being enough, the shame of feeling this way—it all came crashing down at once.

Remy didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just stayed close, his hand never leaving your arm, his presence a steady, unwavering comfort. He didn’t try to fix it or offer empty reassurances. He just let you be, let you feel what you needed to feel, and somehow, that made all the difference.

After a few moments, when the tears had slowed but the ache still lingered in your chest, you finally found your voice again, though it was shaky and weak.

"I just… I look in the mirror, and I don’t like what I see," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don’t… I don’t feel like I’m enough."

Saying it out loud felt like admitting a terrible secret, something you had been holding onto for too long. But the moment the words left your lips, a strange sense of relief washed over you. It was out now. The truth was out, and you couldn’t take it back.

You half-expected Remy to brush it off, to tell you that you were being ridiculous, that you were beautiful and didn’t need to feel this way. But instead, he was quiet for a moment, his hand still resting gently on your arm. Then, he stepped in front of you, his gaze soft and unwavering as he looked into your tear-filled eyes.

His brow furrowed even more, and he reached out to gently take your hands in his, uncrossing your arms. His touch was warm and reassuring. "What y' mean by dat, chère?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. The words felt heavy in your mouth, but you forced them out anyway. "I don’t look like the other women you’ve been with. I’m… bigger. And today, I just… I don’t feel good about it. I don’t feel good about me."

There. You said it. The ugly truth that had been gnawing at you all day. You braced yourself for his reaction, for him to say something dismissive or to tell you that you were overthinking it. But instead, Remy’s grip on your hands tightened slightly, and he pulled you gently to your feet.

"Come here, chère," he murmured, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you. He held you close, his chin resting on top of your head as he stroked your back soothingly. "I been waitin' t' say this for a while, but y’ve never given me the chance."

You blinked, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down into your eyes. His expression was serious, more serious than you were used to seeing on his face. "I don’t care 'bout that. I don’t care 'bout what other people think. Y' beautiful, cherie, jus' the way y' are. And I need y' to believe that."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he didn’t understand, that it wasn’t that simple. But he silenced you by placing a finger against your lips, his eyes soft but unwavering.

"I know y' don’t always see it, but I do," he continued, his voice low and sincere. "Y' think I’m wit' y' because I want someone who looks like everybody else? Non, chère. I’m wit' y' because y' one of a kind. Ain’t nobody else like y', and that’s what I love 'bout y'."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming warmth of his words, from the realization that he truly, deeply meant what he was saying. You had always known Remy was kind and compassionate, but hearing him say these things to you, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, made your heart ache in the best way.

"But I don’t always feel beautiful," you admitted, your voice shaky. "I don’t always feel like I’m enough."

Remy’s expression softened even more, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had fallen. "Then let me remind y', every day if I have to. I’ll tell y' a thousand times if that’s what it takes. Because y' are enough. Always have been, always will be."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. It wasn’t as simple as snapping your fingers and feeling better, but with Remy’s arms around you, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

"You’re too good to me," you whispered, resting your forehead against his chest.

"No, chère," he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I’m jus' tellin' y' the truth."

For a moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your room fading away. Remy’s presence was so grounding, so steady, that you felt the storm inside you begin to calm. The insecurities were still there, lingering in the background, but they didn’t feel as loud anymore. Not with him here, reminding you that you were more than enough.

After a while, Remy pulled back just enough to look down at you again, his signature roguish grin returning to his face. "Now, how 'bout we go out, eh? I promise y' gon' have a good time. An' if not, we can come right back home, no questions asked."

You managed a small smile, the warmth of his words still lingering in your chest. "Okay," you said quietly. "Let’s go."

Remy’s grin widened, victorious but gentle. "That’s my girl." He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stepping back and grabbing his coat from the chair. "An' for the record, chère, y' look damn good."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at your lips. "You’re unbelievable."

"Maybe," he winked, shrugging on his coat with a flourish.

As you followed him out the door, hand in hand, you couldn’t shake the warmth that spread through your chest. The insecurities were still there, lingering at the edges of your mind, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore. Not with Remy by your side, reminding you that you didn’t have to be anyone else. You were enough, just as you were—and that was more than enough for him.

[elyvorg]

The Most Significant Change in AAI2’s Official Localisation (according to me)

Ace Attorney Investigations 2 finally has an official localisation! This is kind of mind-boggling to those of us who played the fan translation and have loved it in that form for years, never expected an official localisation to happen, and now suddenly have to get used to everything about it being Just Slightly Different.

Having played the official localisation in full, I can say that for the most part, it’s even better than the already-excellent fan translation! Most of the lines have just a little bit more colour in them now, and there’s a bunch of small nuances that went over my head before that are emphasised better in the new version. There are some lines I prefer in the fan translation, but they’re vastly outnumbered by all the lines I prefer in the official version. All in all, strongly recommend fans of the fan translation to check out the official version in some form.

However, among these minor lines here and there that I prefer in the fan translation, there is also this one small but much more significant thing from the fan translation which is not present in the official version. I happen to care about this small-but-significant detail a lot, so here is a post explaining exactly why this is a Thing that Matters (to me, at least).

(This will mention major spoilers for the game! Do not click the readmore unless you have experienced the entire story of AAI2 in some form.)

The Thing is this: In the fan translation, Simon refers to his friend as “Knightley”, all the time. Meanwhile, in the official localisation, Simeon always calls him “Bronco”.

Now, I get why the localisers did this. It’s a Japanese cultural thing – in Japanese, it’s common for even close friends to address each other by their surnames, and indeed, Sim(e)on referred to Knight(ley) by his surname in the original Japanese game. This is usually changed into friends using each other’s first names in English localisations, because it feels strange in English to see two close friends addressing each other in what feels like a distant and formal kind of way.

(For example, in The Great Ace Attorney, Ryunosuke and Kazuma addressed each other by their surnames in Japanese, and this was – very correctly – localised to them using each other’s first names in English. It would feel wrong to an English speaker for these best friends not to do that, even though they are still characters from Japan.)

So it just makes sense as the obvious localisation choice to have Simeon refer to his friend with his given name, rather than his surname.

However! In this particular instance, I firmly 100% believe that this was the wrong decision.

See, Simon calling Knightley by his surname in the fan translation isn’t just an awkward holdover of a somewhat more direct Japanese translation – it actually means something. It’s a subtle hint that Simon doesn’t actually see Knightley as the friend he supposedly is; he’s distancing himself from his friend by talking about him in this more detached way.

This is subtle enough that it isn’t a spoiler, either! On my first playthrough of the fan translation, I never batted an eye at Simon using his friend’s surname. Some people in English-speaking countries do just prefer to go by their surname, even to their friends – particularly when their first name is kind of awkward. It felt perfectly natural that Knightley might prefer to be called just that even by his best friend, instead of “Horace”, which sounds somewhat old-fashioned and dorky.

(And this would go double, surely, for someone whose first name is freaking Bronco of all things. It’d make plenty of sense that he’d rather be called Knight!)

Knightley himself probably didn’t even question it. I imagine Simon would have called him Horace while they were kids at the orphanage, but then when Simon reappeared in his life years later after his disappearance and was calling him Knightley instead, Knightley probably shrugged and figured, yeah, Horace is kind of a dorky name, he’s not a kid any more, “Knightley” is way cooler. (Especially with his obsession with chess, not to mention his whole white-knight complex towards Simon.)

The biggest reason why this means something is that Simon calls him Knightley almost the entire time, with one single exception. In the flashback to their impromptu nighttime meeting in the prison, in which Simon knows he’s about to get his “friend” killed and this is the last time he’ll ever see him, the final thing he says to him is, “Goodbye, Horace.”

He uses Knightley’s first name, for the only time in the game’s present. And so, precisely because he’s used his surname every other time, this simple line becomes an achingly telling sign that Simon still cares about his best friend despite everything, despite the fact that he is literally getting him killed. It’s like he’s remembering the happier times they had being friends at the orphanage before everything turned sour, like a part of him wishes they could still have that, and it breaks my heart.

(This is the same in the Japanese, too – he uses his friend’s given name, which is a sign of extremely close friendship in Japanese and would have even more of an impact to Japanese-speaking players.)

This implication isn’t there in the official localisation, because it can’t be. Not when Simeon calls him Bronco all the time anyway, even when he’s revealed his true colours and is no longer pretending for the sake of Edgeworth and company. Which means that he simply did call him Bronco the whole time, even after they reunited, even while secretly wanting him dead. In that context, using the name Bronco when saying goodbye to him in the prison means nothing in particular. It’s just the name he always uses.

…Okay, granted, it’s not like that flashback scene has no emotional weight in the official version. It still is Simeon coming to talk to his friend one last time when he doesn’t really need to, which still means a lot on its own. But the final line itself isn’t a particularly notable part of it. In the localisation, it’s “Goodbye, Bronco. …And farewell.” The added “farewell” mostly just serves to make it obvious that he knows this is the very last time they’ll meet, but I suppose there is at least something to the fact that you wouldn’t usually say that to someone you didn’t care about. I don’t think it hits nearly as hard as calling him Horace for the first and only time in twelve years, though.

It seems like either the official localisers didn’t notice the significance of the given name in that line there, or they did notice it but they decided that localising Simeon to use his friend’s given name the rest of the time, like localisers normally would, was worth losing the impact of that line. And I firmly disagree that this was worth it. There’s nothing inherently wrong about Knight going by Knight even to his best friend, even if it might feel a little awkward in principle, and the emotional impact of the final thing his best friend says to him would have absolutely made up for that.

[1-800-crscnt]

-hcs for food/drink preferences that I think some clones would have, more under the cut-

Cody: likes neat-ish breakfast foods that have a bunch of flavor, but can be eaten quickly. doesn’t really have drink preferences, but first choice is always ice cold water with a little mint leaf in it. doesn’t hate any food/drink at all, but dislikes cleaning up after eating messy food (think of those very tall sandwiches that have the ingredients spilling out while covered in a sauce).

Wolffe: Big meal + with a snack guy. Has a more intense sweet tooth than expected of a clone, so he likes to pair a sweet snack with whatever he’s eating if he’s able. Hates most seafoods and liquid-y foods, but likes most other things. Doesn’t like to drink water so he either mixes syrups in or deals with it. Usually goes for very doctored-up caf, but his men are too intimidated to tease him for it.

Dogma: prefers non-spicy meaty foods no matter the size, but he ends up usually going for things he can eat in <15 minutes. Forcing himself to like vegetables for several reasons, but it isn’t going that well. Dislikes too-sweet things because of a fear of cavities and the burning/“full” feeling his mouth and throat gets. Denies having a drink preference at all, but he prefers just plain milk.

Rex: LOVES stews and salads and doesn’t care about anything else the entire time he’s eating. would love to have them for every meal if he could. Likes energy drinks and fruit smoothies even if he hates most sweet foods/drinks (gets made fun of for this by brothers and Ahsoka). also, not a messy eater but a loud eater, doesn’t care if it’s annoying.

Fox: despite being near so much food and eating a large variety of it, never actually developed a preference for particular kinds because he doesn’t feel hunger and everything is just “fuel” to him. Does prefer protein shakes and energy drinks, but can’t stand caf (smell is too strong for him, but will drink it if there’s nothing else). sometimes considers faking having generic preferences so his men stop trying to trick him into eating inedible things.

Stone: loves spicy & greasy foods, but is overall very adventurous when it comes to food, will try anything at least once. likes fruit juices and most alcoholic drinks, but won’t make efforts to get the latter since he’s usually very busy. genuinely hates bland food/drinks and won’t finish them, leads to some arguments/teasing/dares with others. has a citrus allergy but assumes it’s just a thing everyone goes through.

Bly: actually loves seafood prepared in any way (including raw), won’t eat any other meat dishes though. Likes any tea, hot water, and milkshakes. dislikes alcohol & caf + their smell and will sneer / walk away if someone is drinking it near him. wouldn’t consider himself vegetarian, but nearly everyone else does. also, hates being watched and talked to while eating, and gets angry/uncomfortable if he’s the only one eating in a group.

[winchesterscorner]

[Dean Winchester] - Bruises

♫ - Lucky Stars - Lucy Spraggan

This was a request for @jayblove1994, I hope you enjoy! <3

Loving a demon hunter wasn't easy. Loving a hunter was not what you expected in your future. But, you most certainly were not complaining.

Dean Winchester was a hell of a man. Often times, he was straightforward, honest and headstrong. Whether that was a good thing all the time or not, you didn't know. What you did know, was that he could also be soft, kind and caring. The Dean you saw behind closed doors was not the hunter, it was just a boy. Over the time you had gotten to know him, Dean had opened up more than you thought he ever would, and you learned things that made you understand the way he was every day.

Your relationship had, for the most part, been quite normal. Sure, you'd been kidnapped by Crowley once or twice, but that's what you get, dating a Winchester. But, when the King of Hell wasn't being a menace in your local area, you found dating Dean was one of the most calm and natural things you had ever done. Loving him was easy, and being loved by him was the best feeling. 

Dean's love language has always been touch. Physicality was always the way he showed love; hugs, kisses, falling asleep together. You name it, Dean did it. You were never short of love from him. In turn, you always helped him after a hunt, usually when a demon had given him a good fight. Tonight was another one of those nights. 

It was about 9pm, and you were just wandering around your apartment, tidying up a few things before planning to settle on the couch with a good book and some hot chocolate. There was a knock, the same knock that only one man did to let you know it was definitely him. Standing, you opened the door, and there was your boyfriend, bloody and bruised. 

"Dean!" you exclaimed, partly shocked at the state of his face and partly happiness. "Come in, babe, what on Earth happened to you?"

He shook his head and smirked a little, eyes staring into yours. 

"The same thing that always happens, sweetheart."

That gruff, sarcastic voice always tried to make the best of every situation. You chuckled, and brought him to the couch. Fetching a glass of water for him, and some washcloths, you began to clean him up whilst you sat.

Dean still, after all this time, wasn't used to someone helping him in times like this. Not that anyone hadn't ever offered, Sam and Cas most certainly had, but he never took the help. With you, Dean knew he didn't have a choice. You were always there to fix him, in more ways than just this. He wasn't against it, and he didn't think he deserved it most of the time, but it never stopped you and your love was something Dean wouldn't give it up for the world.

As you sat, your legs touched and Dean's hand sat on your thigh, thumb stroking up and down against the fabric of your pyjamas. Every now and then, you'd catch each other's eyes and smile. From previous experience, you knew Dean wasn't too talkative in these moments, and you respected that. Each time you cleaned up a section of his face, you gave him a quick kiss on the area. Slowly but surely, you had patched him up everywhere. 

"There we go,back to normal," you said, then shrugged. "Well, you know, as normal as a hunter can get, at least."

"So, not at all then, hey?" He chuckled, then held his ribs.

"Everything alright, Dean?" you asked,and he lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised rib cage. Your eyes widened. "Dean!"

"Well I figured you can't exactly fix this with water, can you?"

You just shook your head. "You're way too stubborn, Winchester."

"Ahh, you love me anyway, Y/N."

"I do, now get your kit off and change into something less blood-stained." 

He stripped down and fetched a pair of lounge pants from his drawer. Dean came round to your apartment so often you bought a specific set of drawers just for him, growing tired of having no space for your own clothes. You weren't complaining though, there was always something of his for you to wear. 

"Better?"

You spun round to see your boyfriend in just his pants, without his shirt on. You cocked your eyebrow, and smirked.

"Not that I'm complaining, believe me I'm not, but where's your shirt?"

"Nuh-uh," he started, taking your hand and leading you over to the sofa again. "You never mentioned a shirt, just something 'less bloody', and I believe I have fulfilled that request."

"I hate when you're right, Dean."

Dean winked at you and pulled you over to him, so you were straddling his lap. He looked at you, eyes sparkling and smile present. When he smiled like that, his whole faced lit up. But, you knew it was mostly put on, as these situations drained him, and though eh wouldn't admit to it, they scared him. The atmosphere got a bit more serious now you two were seated again.

Dean's hands rested on your hips, and one travelled up to the back of your head, running through your hair as he went. Pulling you forward, you rested your forehead against his. His hand came forward, tracing your jaw and running his thumb along your lips before he spoke.

"Thank you."

Dean's voice was a low whisper, his eyes closed as he just being in the moment. He got very emotional after hunts, and you guessed it was the comedown of adrenaline, or the thankfulness he felt that he could come home. Sometimes, it wasn't too bad, and the risk was low, but he got especially in his feelings after a risky run. Such as now, where he held you and you stroked his hair. Dean listened to your heartbeat, calming himself fully by counting the beats.

"I've always got you," you whispered into his ear, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here. No matter what, or however bad it feels, I'm here to fix it. Never forget that. I love you, baby."

A hoarse reply came from the man in your arms.

"I love you too."

Dean looked up, and you could think he was close to crying. He looked tired, very tired. You smiled down, and brought your lips to his. The kiss started soft, your hands on either side of his face and his hands on your waist. He pulled you both down, so you were lying side by side on the sofa, facing each other. The kiss broke, and Dean was looking down at you, fingers tracing up and down your side lazily.

"I got very lucky to have you, sweetheart. I'm sorry things get dangerous, but know that I'll protect you, okay? I'll fight hell twice over for you."

You cuddled into him, and his strong arms enveloped you in a safe warmth you only got with him. You had forgotten all about your hot chocolate and book, but that could wait. For now, you were cherishing the soft moments with your boyfriend, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading! <3

If you enjoy my content, you can buy me a coffee here :)

[snookienthusi4st]

mello sfw alphabet

warnings: language, gn! reader, angst if you squint, reader gets called pretty/gorgeous, pet names(doll), mentions of violence, mentions of sex

sfw, just suggestive

a (affection)

mel’s super possessive. not because he doesn’t trust you, he just likes having you all to himself. so i feel like he’d have no reluctance to show you any type of public affection, and will probably be touchy given the time and place.

like an arm around your waist in a crowd or a quick lil kiss before he goes somewhere

b(best friend)

i feel like we can agree that mello is a very distrustful person, so it’ll take time for him to even consider opening up to you. nothing personal, it’s just how things have always been for him.

but be patient, and whether it’s obvious to you or not, he will develop a soft spot for you and will come to enjoy spending time with you :3

c(cuddles)

this guy is so touch starved this answer’s a no brainer

maybe he’ll brush off the idea at first because he has that big of an ego, but if you ever lie down next to him and hug him around his neck he’s gonna consider crying and will not let you leave until the time he sees fit

as tough as he seems, he has such a soft heart and those moments where you two are holding each other are what push him to get through another long day

d(domestic)

it’s hard to tell if he would settle down. i know he would want to but the mafia stuff is making me rethink

unfortunately i think the closest he’ll ever get to settling down is having you move into their base thingy, which seems decent in theory minus the shootouts, yelling, blood etc etc

e(ending)

if he ever had to break things off, it wouldn’t be by choice. but like i said earlier he does grow a soft spot for you, and might distance himself because he doesn’t want you in danger

he’s involved with a lot of menacing people and the thought of you getting hurt or him getting hurt after you get attached could be too much for him to carry

f(fiancée)

wouldn’t get married cause of the mafia stuff and having to stay undercover, but i do think you guys would get to that level if that makes sense

like no documented marriage but after a while you guys are conjoined at the hip so it’s obvious you guys want to have a future together even without the rings

g(gentle)

it’s kind of out of character for him to be gentle by any means but if you guys get close enough, he’ll start warming up to you

whenever he attempts to be gentle it’s the hottest thing ever and he doesn’t even realize it. he’ll tone down his voice a bit cause we all know he can get a bit high strung or he’ll lean down a bit and tilt your chin up to hear you better

also he really likes people looking at him when they talk to him so once you guys start dating some of those mannerisms will be coupled with small little coaxes

“look at me, doll. there she/he is, you’ve got such a pretty face.”

h(hugs)

he wouldn’t initiate them cause he’s too nervous cool to ask

but if you’re a hugger then he’ll gladly accommodate! he’ll return it normally and let you stay as long as you want within reason, probably run a hand down your back or ruffle your hair if you’re already dating

i(i love you)

give it a while, but he will tell you he loves you eventually! prepare to be incredibly shocked when he does because the man will catch you off guard

and he’ll probably go about it like he’s already said it a million times and he’ll be surprised by how emotional you get if you’re a sensitive person

“have i told you i love you yet? no? wait, the hell are you crying for? you’re such a baby..”

and he’s holding you close while you both laugh about it together

j(jealousy)

so mel’s less jealous and more protective. not to the extent where he’ll go and hurt someone over talking to you but he has a killer stink eye

and then later on when you get a moment alone he’ll be all over you, kisses on your neck and running his hands over your waist and collarbones

not cause he’s envious of whoever got to talk to you but because he likes knowing he’s the only one that can get this physically close to you. it’s like an unsaid reassurance for him

k(kisses)

his kisses get rougher over time but it depends on where you two are, like he’s not gonna shove his tongue down your throat in front of the mafia members

subtle, quick kisses in public, on your forehead or on your cheek. he probably won’t give you many in public unless you ask, and he’ll have that lil smirk on his face when you do like aww you want me so bad

but in private he has no shame in heavy makeouts, his lips careful but firm against yours as he holds the back of your head to cradle you against him as you kiss :3

l(little ones)

homegirl hasn’t been around kids since 500 BC, and wammy’s doesn’t really count since he was a kid then too

wouldn’t end up having any kids, since he doesn’t want anyone born into a mafia “household,” but he’d be like awkward in a cute way if he ever encountered a kid

do not let him around babies though, he’ll freak the fuck out

“am i holding it right?” and he’s holding it upside down

m(mornings)

mornings are slightly chaotic when you live at their base. if you’re lucky enough you two get a cuddle session in before you hear people fighting outside

during kira, he’d be up earlier than you and out of bed already to work on the case stuff

but as soon as he’d hear you start to stir and wake up he’d sit at the foot of your bed and wait for you so he could greet you :3

n(nights)

work work work, especially during kira, but he’d always do his best to make time for you. maybe he’d have you straddling his lap and napping on him while he works, just so he gets to feel your body against his

you usually turn in earlier than he does but on the rare case where he’s ready for bed at the same time as you, you guys cuddle or have sex before you both fall asleep

o(open)

so he’s not a super open book considering he’s literally undercover half the time

but a while after you guys start dating he’d tell you his real name, but he’d urge you not to call him by it unless told that you could

he doesn’t want either of you two getting hurt but especially not you

p(patience)

his patience is usually pretty thin as shown in the series but he really does try for you

he’s super passionate about things so something that might get him slightly impatient is if you’re like super deadpan and nonchalant about things he vocally shows an interest in

not a lot of ways to get completely under his skin though, man’s been through hell and back

q(quizzes)

i see him as the type to forget a few minor details about your likes and dislikes but to remember the things that matter to you the most

like your favorite color, gifts you want, things you like about yourself, he’ll remember it all

r(remember)

his favorite thing he remembers about your relationship is probably the night he saw you after kira was apprehended

just seeing your gorgeous face and knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about you being prematurely taken away from him made him feel so whole

he hugged you when he saw you and his voice was really shaky but he never ended up crying or so you saw

s(security)

he’s secure about your bond/commitment but he’s really insecure about himself :(

like he trusts you and knows you won’t leave but he feels like you deserve better than a mafia scarface like him

he dreads the day you’ll kiss his scar and tell him how beautiful he still is because the waterworks will be showing up VERY fast(should i make a fic about this)

t(try)

will definitely make an effort!! for anniversaries he’s got you covered on gifts, nothing you can’t buy with mafia money

but he’ll make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you too, last thing he wants to be in a relationship is superficial

u(ugly)

some bad habits of his are being a workaholic and sometimes raising his voice

if you ever have an argument, he won’t raise his voice to try and scare you. it’s just how he’s gotten people to listen whenever he’s getting his point across in any type of conversation so if he ends up freaking you out he’ll definitely reel it back in and apologize

and he’s a total workaholic, but he manages to make time for the things he cares about, like you

also bottles his emotions up half the time since that’s what he was indirectly taught to do at wammy’s, so sometimes you have to sit him down and really reassure him before he cracks and opens up

v(vanity)

absolute fashionista

whenever he’s outside, he always has one of his fire fits on, extra points if you dress up too

you guys definitely go shopping together if you have similar or even contrasting styles

seems like the type to let you wear that big fur jacket he has whenever you’re cold and tease you about it later

w(whole)

after some time, he can feel you growing into a piece of him. like you’ve become such a big part of his life that he can’t imagine it without you

this was a big struggle back during kira, because he felt like you’re the only person that would ever love him that much and the only person he could love as much as he does

lots of nights where he’d spiral and stress, resulting in comfort from you that eventually calmed him down, until the case was finally over

x(xtra hcs)

will absolutely play dress up with you if you let him

like it won’t usually lead up to sex of any kind but it’s so intimate, just having him pick out your clothes and gently undress and redress you

even better if it’s his clothes, he’ll be so proud of himself like damn he really lucked out with you

“think this dress is my favorite on you, y/n..you really are gorgeous.”

“that shirt’s big on you. it’s a cute look, though, maybe you should keep it.”

y(yuck)

obviously all of this is subject to accommodate but he doesn’t fairly enjoy people he has to repeat important stuff for(unless it’s a normal amount and you genuinely didn’t hear him lmao) like no he will not tell you that for the fifth time

also he likes smart people and he’ll still like people that at least try to be smart, but the man does not fuck with airheads. like if you’re identical to misa if not more extreme personality wise, he will take forever to come around to you

z(zzz)

light sleeper, but he eventually starts sleeping better and getting into a better schedule after you two start sleeping together

another one of the reasons he’s so grateful for you

[wiltedflowerpetals]

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John Price is a lot of things. A soldier. A leader. The captain of Task Force 141. And, of course, (Y/N) Price's husband. They are so much in love, in fact, that after a year of dating, John asked her to marry him. But even lovers have secrets... Because John's lovely wife wasn't just a sweet wife with a boring office job. No. She was a killer. A hitman. One of the best...

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It's my first cod fic... I hope it's good. Thank you for reading and I wish you all a great day! x3

Words: 2259

Warning: none

You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow as you entered the quiet sanctuary of your home. You placed your weapons carefully in your hidden compartment beneath the floorboards of the closet, where John would never think to look. It was almost laughable, really. Your husband, John Price, a man who had dedicated his life to fighting criminals, had no idea that his wife was one of those killers.

You closed the closet door and took a deep breath. This was your life, your choice, long before you even met John. He didn't need to know about your job. All he needed to know was that you were here, waiting for him, just like you always were. You took another deep breath and needed to switch gears, to become the version of yourself that he knew and loved.

After you took a shower and put on some comfy clothes, you decided to cook your husband’s favorite food. You moved around the kitchen, preparing it as the aroma of simmering stew filled the air.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from Kate Laswell. A good friend of yours.

You smiled before swiping the screen to answer the call.

“(Y/N).” Kate greeted you. She sounded professional, as always, but with a bit of warmth.

“Kate.” You replied. “How did it go?”

“Smoothly. The target is dead, and our friend is safe for now. You did a good job out there.”

“Thanks.” You said, leaning against the counter, watching the stew. “What’s next?”

“Next?” You heard her chuckle. “Next, I’m coming over.”

You raised your eyebrow, stirring the pot. “You're sure about this, Kate?”

“What, afraid to see me in broad daylight?” You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, John invited me. He’s been telling me for ages about how good your cooking is. How could I refuse?”

You sighed. “I’m a great cook… But, Kate, you know how important it is that John doesn’t find out about… you know.”

“I know.” Kate reassured you. “I won’t say a word. He has no idea we know each other, and it’ll stay that way.” Silence filled the conversation. “But he’s bound to find out. You have to talk to him one day.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I know and I will do it… One day. It’s just… I don’t want him getting involved in my shit. If he knew what I really do…”

“I understand…” Kate said softly. “And I promise, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You sighed and rolled your eyes as the line went dead before you could say more. You placed the phone back on the counter.

“You could have said bye, Kate.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your husband; it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of him being in danger. You’d lied to him for years, all to protect him. And so far, it had worked.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The front door opened. John was home. You turned, wiping your hands on a towel as he entered the kitchen, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey, love.” He greeted, his voice gruff but full of affection.

“John.” You smiled, walking over to him. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. The scent of sweat, gunpowder, cigars and earth clung to him, a reminder of the world he lived in, the world you knew perfectly well…

“Missed you.” He murmured against your neck.

“I missed you too.” You replied, your voice soft. You kind of did. Can you miss someone that you see so often? Even when your husband went on missions, you were there, watching his back and saving his life more times than you could count.

You always went there to safe him. For Kate and for yourself.

You pulled back, giving him a soft kiss on his dry lips. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

John watched you with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“Someone has to.” You teased, setting the plates on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get everything.”

He obeyed. You placed a steaming plate in front of him and joined him at the table. You two ate in comfortable silence.

John leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a satisfied grin. "You’ve outdone yourself, love."

“I’m glad you liked it.” You replied, gathering the dishes. He grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Leave it.” He said. “I’ll do it later.”

You smiled, but shook your head. “Let me help then.” John offered, but you shook your head again.

“No, you go take a shower. I’ve got this.”

He didn’t need much convincing. “Alright, but only because you insist.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, before you watched him head towards the bathroom.

The next day arrived too quickly…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You woke up early and ready to prepare breakfast. John was still asleep, his arm draped over your side of the bed, the peaceful expression on his face making your heart ache with affection.

You moved quietly, not wanting to wake him just yet. He needed his rest, especially after the mission he’d just returned from. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, savoring the moment.

As you finished up, John stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, love.” He mumbled, reaching for you. You stepped into his embrace, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Morning.” You replied, your voice soft. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Smells amazing.” he said, pulling back to look at you.

You two sat on the table, eating your delicious food as John intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Soo…” John started, as you finished your food.

“Soo?” You glanced at him, squeezing his hand.

“A friend of mine wanted to visit us. You, know the friend I’ve mentioned a couple of times? Kate?” You nod your head, feeling a slight twinge of anxiety in your stomach. “Yeah, she will come… Is it okay? Or should I call her back and-“

You shook your head. “No, no, honey. It’s okay. She can come.” Despite her promise, there was still a small part of your that worried, that he will find out about your job.

John smiled at your, happy that you were fine with it and finally could meet his friend.

And due to your nervosity, you start to cook early on for dinner. For the time Kate will come into your home. You prayed and hoped that everything will work out…

John noticed your nervosity, of course. He always did. “You’re fussing too much.” He teased as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you.

“I’m not fussing.” You rolled your eyes, but could hear the tension in your own voice. “I just want everything to be perfect…”

“It will be.” John assured you, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind. “Kate’s going to love you. She’s always been curious about the woman who managed to snag me.”

You laughed, though the sound was a bit strained. John kissed the side of your neck, his beard scratching gently against your skin. “Don’t worry, love.”

The doorbell rang and you felt your heart leap into your throat. This was it…

John released you, heading for the door. “That’ll be Kate.” He said.

You quickly wiped your hands on a towel, trying to steady your breathing as you followed him. When the door swung open, there stood Kate Laswell, dressed casually but with her usual air of quiet authority.

“Kate, good to see you.” John greeted warmly.

“Good to see you too, John.” Kate replied with a smile, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You stepped forward, a perfectly practiced look of curiosity and friendliness on her face. It was time to act. Something that you always had to do during your missions. Acting or more likely… lying…

“You must be Kate. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you must be (Y/N).” Kate responded. “John wasn’t exaggerating when he said you’re beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes at the false pleasantries, but at least your friend had some fun. This was the game you two had to play after all. “Thank you. Come in, please.”

As Kate stepped inside, John closed the door behind her, looking pleased. He had no idea that the two women had known each other for a long time already.

They moved to the dining room, where you had already set the table. The conversation flowed easily, John and Kate reminiscing about old missions, with you chiming in here and there, careful to keep up the facade of being just a supportive wife with no real connection to their deadly world.

As they ate, John kept looking between the two women. “It’s funny.” He remarked. “I’ve always thought you two would get along great. Glad to see I was right.”

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Well, Kate’s easy to get along with.” You said, but kept your eyes rather on John than on her.

Kate returned the smile, her expression giving nothing away. “And I can see why John speaks so highly of you, (Y/N). You’ve got a real knack for this - hosting, cooking… you’re a natural.”

“… Thank you.” You replied, you were counting down the minutes until this tense dinner was over.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk and laughter, with John completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the two women. As far as he knew, it was just a pleasant evening with his wife and a close friend.

When it was finally time for Kate to leave, John walked her to the door, thanking her again for coming. You followed, staying a step behind, happy that the day has finally ended.

“Thanks for having me.” Kate said warmly, giving you a meaningful look as she shook your hand. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“I would love to.” You replied, your voice steady despite of all the emotions you were feeling right now. “It was lovely meeting you.”

With that, Kate left, and you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed as you let out a slow breath.

John came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You leaned into his embrace. “You were right.” You admitted, turning in his arms to face him. “It was nice and went better than I thought.”

John smiled down at you. “You did great, love. I knew Kate would like you. But then again, what's not to like?”

You chuckled. “You give me too much credit. But I’m glad she came over. It was… good to finally meet her.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “You know, I think she’ll become a good friend of yours. She’s got a lot of interesting stories, and I’m sure you two have more in common than you think.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah… maybe.”

John’s smile softened as he looked at you. “Are you alright? You seem… distracted.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. He was always so perceptive. But you couldn’t tell him the truth… Not now, not ever. So, you did what you had done countless times before. You lied… Again.

“Just tired.” You said, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “It’s been a long day.”

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back. “I understand. It’s been a lot. Why don’t we call it a night? You need your rest.”

You nodded, feeling now tired from this day. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You locked up the house and headed upstairs. As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t help but glance at John, wondering what would happen if he ever found out the truth. How would he react? Would he be angry, hurt, betrayed?

Once you two were in bed, John pulled you close, his arm wrapped protectively over you. He kissed your temple, whispering a soft “Goodnight, love.” before closing his eyes.

You lay there in the darkness, your eyes wide open as you stared at the ceiling. The evening had gone as well as it could have, but the anxiety was still there. Kate’s visit had been a stark reminder of your real life. Your real job.

You turned slightly to watch John sleep; his face peaceful in the light. He had no idea how many times you’d been there, watching over him from the shadows during his missions, making sure he and his team got out alive. You were always just out of sight, never letting anyone know where you were. It was your way of protecting him.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up.

But for now, John was safe. He was home, with you, and that was all that mattered.

You reached out, brushing a hand over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble under your fingers. He stirred slightly, but didn’t wake, just leaned into her touch.

“I love you.” You whispered.

It was both a vow and a plea. A promise to keep him safe, and a silent wish that he’d never have to find out the lengths you’d gone to do so.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the arms of your husband.

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© nanamisflowerfield/wiltedflowerpetals. Do not repost, rewrite, plagiarize my work.

[walmartbrandwhatever]

cherry and marcia hcs because I love them so dearly.

they met when they were 6 at a park. cherry was sitting alone on a bench and marcia being afraid of nothing just sat down and started yapping.

Marcia used to be afraid of nothing except for storms. whenever there was a storm she would curl up in the corner of her room and cry.

her parents weren't around much, both working to hard to keep the life they had built so her house was often empty.

cherry having a not so good home environment would spend days upon days at marcias and they would just hang out.

cherry was the quiet popular girl who did her work but when she was at marcias house they would talk the most shit and about drama going around the school.

cherry is really good at doing other people's hair, and it's something she quite enjoys doing. someday, when things get too stressful, Marcia will let Cherry just mess with her hair as they sit in silence or talk about what's bothering her.

Marcia used to roller skate a lot when she was younger but stopped when she reached highschool and started to worry more about her staus.

cherry lowkey hates oranges. she hates anything to do with them while marcia LOVES them.

on the days where they were practicing for rodeos they find a way to fuck with eachother.

they had a game where they had gotten this small little figure and have made it a game to place it somewhere on eachother and whoever has it has to try to get it to the other person without them noticing. the last time they played marcia got it to cherry(I'm gonna come back to this later)

once they reached high school, Cherry had met Bob in her math class. at first they didn't really talk but after being paired together during class they sort of just hit it off.

Marcia and Bob? did NOT hit it off. they started unsure of each other and then turned to them, not liking each other.

there was one day where bob and marcia had ended up alone waiting for the rest of there friends and marcia got to see the true version of bob Sheldon that had been pushed down deep.

he had started talking about the stars, going into detail about the ones he knew and how important they were to him. no matter what changed in his life or the little amount of actual love he got from his family they stayed a constant. a reminder that there were nice things that even he could see.

Marcia before would have never expected it from someone like him but it made her look at him with a different light. only for a little while because that was the only time she had ever seen that side of him. after that he went back to the bob Sheldon she had known. the bob Sheldon who hated her just as much as she hated him.

Marcia was considered a weird girl who was simply friends with Cherry Valance. that didn't bother her much up until that point.

Marcia hated how Bob treated Cherry like some sort of trophy. Cherry had always told her that he wasn't like that and that he was real kind and she didn't need to worry.

the weeks when Cherry would spend hours at Marcias turned into just a few days, focusing her time on Bob which didn't hurt Marcia.

she understood that a d she respected it. she spent most of her time with bev, brill, and trip. she learned a lot with them and learned that something were better kept hidden than out.

her parents had very different ways of thinking. her father grew up with a single father who didn't have much taught her to fit in and roam with the crowd because that's how you got successful while her mother grew up with a rich family who was cold and uncaring. she taught marcia to stick up for herself and to trust those who are her true friends.

Marcia often battled between what her parents wanted her to be. she wants to make her father proud, but she doesn't want to disappoint her mother, who always taught her to be kind and true to herself.

reaching highschool she learned real quick between the difference of social class and how she needed to fit in if she wanted to make it to graduation.

Bev had told her that she needed to stop "acting so weird, you'll never get someone if you act like that," and marcia had laughed in her face then. Bev, that day, wasn't too happy with her, nearly cost her the spot she had within the small group. she learned that day to take most things with a smile and that things would be easier if she just kept others happy.

Cherry had been spending time with Bob, the nights where they both just needed to escape from their lives, the would drive Bob's car out to a reserved place and just look at the stars.

the first time Bob got real drunk she had freaked the fuck out because she would not be with someone who ended up like her father.

he the next day had showed up at her house with flowers and with an apology. she practically melted into his arms after she explained to him why she had freaked. he had promised that it wouldn't happen again, though he never kept that promise, leading to her snapping at the nightly double.

Cherry post cannon distanced herself from all the socs for the most part. she only really stayed connected to chet and somewhat marcia.

the two grew apart for a little bit as Marcia battled with the pressure of her parents and with the ideas of social class.

one night marcia just completing broke down in front of her parents. they talked for hours after that, working through their problems and how she had been feeling. her parents had always loved her, she knew that but her father rarely showed any emotion and her mother too busy fighting with her own family to realize how her own family was falling apart.

the next day Marcia asked Cherry to talk and they did. Marcia apologized from practically everything that had happened andthey both made a promise to be better, to talk things out no matter how they felt.

that's all I have rn but please feel free to add in the comments or in my inbox 🙏 also trust I'm just feeding yall until I finish this fic.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.