#This is just a post that let's me properly say goodbye to myself

[alexwritesit]

The day I was ready to say goodbye

The mirror that seemingly looks into the past of you. (kind of a Vent post)

As the evening sun cast a warm, golden glow through the windows, I sat in the living room, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. The woman across from me extended a key with a gesture that was both graceful and calculated, her eyes holding a spark of envy as they fixed on me. Perhaps she longed for a life less bound by formalities and signatures. “Please sign here,” she requested, her voice a smooth melody, as she presented a document whose contents were as enigmatic to me as the distant stars.

Her elegance was undeniable, draped in a fur coat that lay across the sofa like a slumbering beast. The suit she wore spoke volumes of the stark, unforgiving world she navigated - a world of sharp edges and colder hearts. Yet, there she was, an epitome of grace under pressure.

“Thank you,” I murmured, accepting the pen with a nod. My signature flowed onto the paper, an unremarkable finale to our transaction. She responded not with words, but with a smile that was a masterful performance in itself - polite, pleasant, yet as devoid of warmth as a winter’s dawn. It was a smile born of years in a role that demanded perfection and offered little room for genuine emotion. In that moment, I felt a fleeting sense of camaraderie for this stranger, bound as we were by the roles we played in a world that watched with unblinking eyes.

The silence that hung in the air after my signature was laid upon the paper felt almost suffocating, dense with unspoken thoughts and veiled intentions. She examined my signature with a practiced eye, her lips curling into that same insincere smile that seemed to mock the very notion of genuine emotion. It gnawed at my patience, stirring a restless urge within me to escape the confines of this opulently oppressive room.

I could feel the weight of the room closing in around me, as if the very walls were whispering secrets meant only for the shadows. The fireplace behind her, cold and neglected, stood as a silent witness to countless such transactions, its ashes untouched and forlorn, a stark contrast to the superficial warmth of her demeanor.

Breaking the stifling stillness, her voice, smooth and controlled, filled the space. “Thank you, once again, Sir,” she said, her words meticulously chosen, void of any genuine sentiment. With a fluid motion, she retrieved her coat from the couch, its fabric whispering secrets of luxury and distant, cold places. Her glance towards me was brief, a fleeting connection that held no promise of understanding or empathy. “I won’t bother you, I’ll see myself out. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” I echoed, the word a mere formality, empty and devoid of meaning. As she moved to leave, the room seemed to exhale, releasing me from its invisible grip. Yet, in the wake of her departure, the echo of that insincere smile lingered, a ghostly reminder of the masks we all wear.

The old house, veiled in the soft glow of twilight, seemed almost to beckon with a deceptive warmth. As I stood there, the world around me felt steeped in a melancholic stillness, the kind that speaks more of sorrow than of peace. The air carried a faint, musty scent, a reminder of years gone by, unyielding to the passage of time.

From my vantage point, the living room stretched out, shrouded in the twilight’s embrace. Each shadow seemed to hold a whisper of the past, a murmur of moments long since withered. The chill that crept through the room was more than just the absence of warmth; it was the ghost of forgotten laughter, the echo of dreams that had once danced within these walls.

In my hands, the keys felt like relics of a life half-lived, heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets. They were cold to the touch, as if they too had absorbed the essence of this place - a tangible reminder of a bond broken, a promise unkept.

My husband’s words echoed in my mind, a somber melody that matched the rhythm of my heart. “This is not a home,” he had said, his voice a low thrum of conviction. “A place that breeds only pain deserves no fond remembrance, no tender thoughts.” And as I gazed upon the dim outlines of furniture, the remnants of a life once cherished, I couldn’t help but feel he might be right.

The silence that hung in the air was not empty but filled with the longing of what could have been. It was a silence that spoke volumes, a testament to the chasm between the life we live and the life we yearn for.

Rising slowly from the couch, I could hear its aged frame sighing beneath me, a creaking sound that seemed to fracture the silence, releasing a breath of bygone years. It felt as if the very air around me shifted, infused with a transient, almost ethereal sense of relief, as if the house itself were exhaling a long-held breath.

My gaze drifted towards the fireplace, now a silent guardian of memories. It was adorned with an array of flowers, their colors faded yet still clinging to a semblance of life, and picture frames that captured frozen moments in time. Each frame was like a window into a past that felt both distant and painfully close, painting a picture of an era when this house still dared to wear the mask of normalcy, when it still held onto the illusion of warmth.

Those photographs, with their smiling faces and eyes full of hope, seemed to mock the present with their portrayal of a happiness that had long since ebbed away. The fireplace, once the heart of the home, now stood as a somber monument to what had been—a time when the house had tried, in its own way, to emulate a haven of love and laughter.

As I lingered in my observations, a pang of nostalgia twisted within me, a longing for those days of feigned normality, for the comfort of an illusion now shattered. The semblance of warmth that once permeated these walls had dissipated, leaving behind only the cold truth of what this house had become.

With each step toward the doors leading into the foyer, a sense of finality grew within me. Casting a lingering glance back, the living room, a space where years of my life had unfolded, now lay before me as a desolate shell, its echoes of laughter and tears reduced to mere whispers in the dust.

Crossing the threshold into the foyer, memories rushed at me like a gust of cold wind. The staircase, once a playground of innocent adventures, where I used to slide down in giddy delight, stood stark and uninviting. Its wood, once warm to the touch, now felt as cold and distant as my faded childhood. I was no longer the carefree child who had once seen these stairs as a mountain to conquer.

Ascending the staircase, I felt the gaze of paintings lining the walls. These familiar faces, once mere decorations, now seemed to scrutinize me, their silent judgment echoing the changes time had wrought. In their stillness, they questioned what I had become, witnesses to the transformation of both the house and myself.

Turning right down the hallway, each step was a journey back in time, to the room that had once been my sanctuary. My bedroom door stood ajar, like a portal to a past life. Within those walls, I had battled imaginary monsters lurking under the bed, traveled to faraway lands through the pages of books, and wept into my pillow in the solitude of night. The room, which once echoed with the boundless imagination of a child, now waited, silent and unchanged, yet irrevocably altered in the eyes of the grown person I had become.

As I stepped into the room, it was as though time had stood still. Everything was exactly as I had left it years ago, a capsule of my younger self. My diary, its secrets still safeguarded by a lock, rested inside the desk. The key, cleverly hidden between a painting and the wall through a small hole, remained my secret.

The room was suffused with a sense of stillness, as if it had been holding its breath all these years, waiting for my return. Dust had settled over everything, a testament to the passage of time, yet it felt oddly fitting, like a veil over the past. The mirror, standing sentinel against one wall, was the only object that seemed unchanged, its surface clouded with the dust of years gone by.

I paused, my reflection a ghostly outline in the glass. “I read a story that mirrors hold memories of times past,” I murmured to the silent room. The words hung in the air, a question left unanswered.

In the ensuing silence, a strange sensation washed over me. My gaze drifted away from the mirror, lost in thought. But when I looked back, the reflection had shifted subtly. There, in the glass, was a younger version of myself, eyes wide with the innocence and dreams of youth.

“Is it true, Alexandra?” The question slipped from my lips, half in wonder, half in disbelief. The reflection in the mirror - a younger me - seemed to hold a world of answers, a connection to a past self I had long thought lost.

“You changed,” the girl in the mirror observed, her voice tinged with the unmistakable timbre of youth. Her words echoed softly in the room as I settled into a chair, facing this fragment of my past.

“Time does that to people,” I replied, a smile touching my lips despite the surreal nature of the conversation.

“It didn’t change me?” Her image in the mirror tilted her head, a gesture so familiar it tugged at my heart.

“You changed alongside me, in a way,” I said softly, reflecting on the journey that had led me here.

“What is your new name?”

“Alexander,” I answered, feeling a strange kinship with the girl who shared my history.

“We still don’t have a good imagination with names, do we?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“No, we don’t,” I chuckled, and her laughter, so pure and unburdened, filled the room like music. It was a sound from another time, a reminder of a joy that was both lost and found in this moment.

“So Alexander,” she said with a sense of newfound respect, “You’re very tall!”

“I am!” I agreed, a sense of pride swelling in my chest at her awe.

“Can you climb trees?”

“I can! And not just trees,” I added with a smirk, “I can even climb some mountains.”

“Wow!” Her eyes widened with admiration. “Did you climb Mount Everest?”

I paused, a flicker of unfulfilled dreams crossing my mind. “No,” I admitted, “But I did climb Shkhara and Risnjak.”

“Risnjak?” Her curiosity was palpable, her image leaning closer in the mirror.

“Yes, I went back to Croatia.”

She gasped, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Mom and dad let you!?”

At her question, a shadow passed over me. The room seemed to grow a bit colder, the dust motes in the air swirling with silent histories. I remained silent, the weight of unspoken stories hanging heavily in the air.

Her expression in the mirror changed, a dawning understanding replacing her initial excitement. “Oh,” she said softly, the single word heavy with meaning.

In that moment, the gap between us – the child full of wonder and the adult bearing the complexities of life – felt both vast and yet intimately close. Our shared reflection in the dusty mirror bridged years of experiences, unifying two parts of a singular journey.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“They don’t live here anymore,” I responded, the words feeling heavy even as they left my lips.

“Why?” The innocence in her question made my heart ache.

“They… they don’t like it here,” I said, choosing my words carefully, trying to soften the blow of reality for her youthful understanding.

“And what about grandpa?” Her eyes, so full of childlike curiosity, searched mine in the mirror for answers.

“He went to Heaven,” I said gently, the words stirring a whirlpool of emotions within me.

“He died?” The simplicity of her question struck a chord, echoing in the silence of the room.

I nodded, feeling a tightness in my throat. It was a challenge to maintain composure, to be the bearer of truths I knew would pain her. “He said he was very proud of us,” I added, offering this white lie as a small comfort, both to her and to myself.

Her reflection in the mirror took on a solemn air, absorbing the news with a quiet maturity that belied her years. In that moment, the lines between past and present blurred, as I found solace in the imagined approval of a loved one lost, conveyed through the hopeful eyes of a child who was once me.

“Do you still wear dresses?” she asked, her image tilting its head with curiosity.

“No,” I chuckled, the sound echoing slightly in the still room. “I don’t wear dresses. They’re just not my style.”

“Good. You’d look weird in them,” she said with the blunt honesty only a child could muster.

“You think?” I raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Yeah!” she giggled, her laughter ringing clear and light.

“I guess it’s also because I can’t find dresses in my size,” I added playfully, “Which is just as well.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened in mock surprise.

“Mhm.”

There was a brief pause before she asked, “Do Mom and Dad call you Alexander now?”

The question caught me off guard. “They…” I hesitated, grappling with the complexities of that relationship. “They don’t,” I finally admitted.

“Do you talk with them?”

“No, I don’t.” The words were simple, but they carried the weight of untold stories and deep-seated feelings.

“Good, I don’t like them,” she declared with a firm nod.

Her straightforwardness took me aback, a stark contrast to the nuanced feelings I harbored. But there was also a sense of validation in her words, a reminder that some parts of us remain unaltered by time and circumstance.

Her image in the mirror smiled, a reflection of resilience and a hint of shared rebellion. In that smile, I found an unexpected ally in the girl I used to be, a bridge across the years that had shaped me into who I am now.

“Your accent is weird too,” she noted, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Weird?” I echoed, feigning surprise.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “You don’t sound like I do.”

“Well, I haven’t sounded like you in a long time,” I replied with a smile.

“Is that…” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Puberty?”

I burst into laughter at her earnest inquiry. “Kind of,” I managed to say between chuckles.

“Your puberty was very strong,” she observed with wide-eyed seriousness.

“Ha?” My amusement grew.

“You turned into a boy,” she said, as if stating a fascinating fact.

“Oh-” I struggled to contain another laugh, “No, this isn’t just puberty. It’s because of surgery and medicine.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in understanding. “So, we are no longer girls?”

“No, you are still a girl. I just realized later that I was actually a boy.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head, considering this new information. “Was grandma happy? She always wanted a grandson.”

“She was,” I nodded, a warm memory surfacing. “She was happy, as long as she got great-grandchildren.”

“Well?” Her curiosity was evident.

“Well, what?”

“Did you get her great-grandchildren?”

“I did,” I laughed, my heart lightening at her reaction. I pulled out my phone, swiped through the gallery, and turned the screen to show her. Her reflection in the mirror leaned in, eyes wide with wonder.

“Wow!” she gasped.

“Her name’s Anastasia,” I said, a proud smile crossing my face as I scrolled to another photo.

“Like the princess?!” she exclaimed, her smile bright and infectious.

“Exactly like the princess,” I affirmed, feeling a surge of joy at her excitement.

I flicked to another picture. “And this is my husband.”

“We have a husband? Ew!” She scrunched up her nose in mock disgust, her childhood aversion to boys still apparent.

“He’s actually very nice,” I assured her.

“Really?” She looked skeptical but curious.

“Yep. And he looks nice, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” She studied the photo, her initial ickiness giving way to intrigue. “He’s a good cook too,” I added.

“That’s cool. Did Grandma meet him?”

“She did,” I nodded, recalling the meeting fondly.

“Did she like him?”

“She did. She really did.”

“Yes!” She jumped in excitement, her energy almost tangible even through the mirror.

Her enthusiasm filled the room, bridging the years between us. In her reactions, I found echoes of my own journey – the initial doubts, the discoveries, the joys of building a life that was true to who I am. Seeing her acceptance, her unfiltered happiness for my choices, was like receiving a blessing from my past self.

The room fell into a contemplative silence again, the figure in the mirror watching me intently as I pocketed my phone. I could sense her unspoken question hanging in the air.

“Why did you come back?” she finally asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Can’t I come back to my home?” I countered lightly.

“We didn’t like this house. We never called it a home,” she reminded me, her reflection a mirror to my past sentiments.

“You’re right,” I conceded, acknowledging our shared history with the place.

“Then why return?”

“I came back because I had to,” I explained, leaning back in the chair. “I had to do something to get this house under our name.”

“This house is now ours?” Her eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“Yes, it’s ours now.”

“Without Mom and Dad?”

“Mhm.”

“But what if they come here?”

“They won’t,” I assured her confidently. “Thankfully, they won’t.”

“But what if they do?”

“Did I ever lie to you?” I asked, meeting her gaze in the mirror.

“No? I mean, you’re me and I’m you. You never lied to yourself.”

“Exactly,” I affirmed with a smile.

“You’re weird,” she declared, a playful note in her voice.

“You’re weird,” I echoed, teasing her.

“I’m not!” she protested, but her smile was soft, content.

In that moment, the bond between us – the grown-up Alexander and the child in the mirror – felt both surreal and profoundly real. There was a comfort in this strange communion, a sense of closure and new beginnings. The house, once a source of pain, was now a blank canvas, waiting for new memories to be painted on its walls.

“I was thinking of turning this room into a nursery.”

“For Anastasia?!” Her voice rose in excitement, echoing the glee of our shared childhood.

“Yes!” I confirmed, her enthusiasm infectious.

She squealed, a sound that transported me back to my own childhood days. “Turn this room into a princess room!”

“A princess room?” I repeated, intrigued by her imagination.

“Yes! With golden curtains, white sheets, and beautiful stars…” she trailed off, her eyes sparkling with ideas.

“I might just do that,” I said, considering her suggestions with a smile.

“But—” She hesitated, her expression turning thoughtful.

“What is it?” I prompted gently.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“For what?” I asked, curious about her sudden change in tone.

“For becoming happy,” she said sincerely.

“No, Alexandra, listen,” I started, feeling a swell of emotions.

“I am,” she assured me, her gaze earnest.

“You were like a butterfly ready to bloom,” I said, trying to convey the journey of transformation we had undergone.

“You’re a narcissist, Alexander,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I’m joking,” I laughed, relieved by her light-heartedness. “We became happy. Without you, I wouldn’t exist.”

“Well, you are me and I am you,” she said, a profound understanding in her voice.

“That’s right,” I agreed, feeling a sense of completion.

In this exchange, the room filled with more than just laughter and light-hearted banter. It was filled with the understanding that every step I had taken, every decision made, was part of a journey that led me to this moment of contentment and self-acceptance. The nursery, once a room of dreams and make-believe, would now be a place of new beginnings and joy for another generation.

“Mirrors hold memories, Alexander,” she said softly, her voice carrying a wisdom beyond her years.

“They truly do,” I agreed, feeling the weight of our shared past in her words.

“Can you please let me go?” Her request was gentle but firm, a plea for closure.

I hesitated, the silence stretching between us. “Let you go?” I echoed, the idea startling.

“Yes. Break the mirror.”

“Break it?!” I was taken aback. “But that’s ten years of bad luck.”

“That’s just a superstition,” she countered calmly.

“What if I just leave you here?” I suggested, not ready to part with this connection.

“Why?” Her question was simple yet profound.

“Well…” I struggled to find a reason.

“You don’t have an answer,” she observed.

“I’m thinking,” I chuckled, buying time. “Actually, I think it would look great in this room.”

“What would?”

“A beautiful golden mirror for a princess, don’t you think?” I tried to lighten the mood.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she gazed at me with eyes deep as the ocean, and for a moment, it seemed as if the sea itself spilled from her eyes, tears cascading down her cheeks into an unseen abyss.

“Thank you, Alexander,” she whispered, her voice filled with a blend of gratitude and farewell.

“Thank you, Alexandra,” I replied, feeling a surge of emotions.

In that instant, the mirror rippled as if disturbed by droplets of water. As the surface calmed, her reflection faded, leaving only my own. The girl I once was had vanished, her parting a symbolic release of a past self.

I stood there for a moment, absorbing the quiet. The room felt different now—lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. My heart echoed that lightness, a sense of peace settling in.

[leilanihours]

# SHE WAS CRYIN' ON MY SHOULDER, ALL I COULD DO WAS HOLD HER

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf!reader

word count: 851

warnings: arguing, crying, mentions of abandonment/past relationship

summary: you and paige both have things you need to get off your chests one year after you break up.

⭑ from lani: to that anon i told my next fic would be for kate im so sorry 😭 i was crying to this song earlier and i just needed to write paige to it - so heres my first ever angst fic i hope its not horrible 😛

masterlist !

"Y/N, YOU LEFT me, remember? you left!"

"you didn't even bother to stop me, to fight for me- for us!"

neither of you knew how this escalated so quickly. how a friendly reunion turned into a screaming match.

"it's not my job to pick up the pieces of the shit you broke! so i'm sorry if i didn't feel like working myself over for someone who had no issue leaving."

you know her apology is insincere, sarcastic. but for a split second when you hear her say "i'm sorry," your heart aches for the words you've spent the past year mourning.

"paige," you sigh, trying to calm down before you say something you don't mean, "i know it seems like it, but i did not want to leave the way i did. i didn't have a choice."

"bullshit-"

"can you just be quiet and let me talk?" you snap, immediately shutting her up, "last summer when i disappeared, it was because of my parents. they forced me to come home to them even after i told them i wanted to stay here in connecticut. i swear to you, paige, i fought for us. you didn't see it but i went through hell fighting. and i'm sorry for ending it the way i did but, paige...we were bound to end it at some point. we both knew that. i had to go home eventually."

you both had tears streaming down your faces at this point, chests heaving from not being able to breathe properly.

you stood in front of paige, slowly pacing back and forth as she sat with her arms crossed on the cold park bench absorbing your words.

the darkness of the night engulfed the atmosphere, contributing to the inevitable breaking of your once-intertwined hearts. the only light was dim from the far away lamp post, rusting away from its former beauty - similarly to how you and paige used to be a work of art together, but were now nothing more than a mess of spilled emotions and pent-up grudges.

"and i understand that, y/n, but i deserved an explanation- a goodbye, at the very least. or at least i thought i deserved that."

"don't do that," you challenge, referring to the way she degraded herself in front of you, "is that why you didn't try? to save us?"

"why else wouldn't i? i thought you hated me, i thought-" she pauses to catch her breath and wipe some of the tears that had fallen on her pink lips, "i thought you didn't care about us. as if that summer didn't mean shit to you."

"paige i-"

"no, now it's your turn to listen," she demands, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench, both of her cold hands holding yours, "i never felt so strongly about someone the way i felt about you. i couldn't imagine spending my time away from you, i mean, it literally hurt. so i took advantage of that summer, i took advantage of the little time we had together. and then when i found out you left without a word to me, it broke me. and i know you didn't see it but ask literally any of my friends. i didn't get out of bed for days in a row. i didn't eat, i didn't practice, nothing. it was like you stole the good parts of me, took it, and ran. i needed you, y/n, but you were on the other side of the country. what am i supposed to do with that?"

she's full on sobbing now, shoulders shaking as she doesn't even try to hold in her tears now. you swear you can hear cracks in your own heart and bones forming as she confesses what she went through.

you can't bear watching her suffer anymore, tightly wrapping your arms around her shaking frame. hugs like these were second nature, but this time was different. there was more meaning behind it.

your embrace acted as a shield against any future problems that were to be thrown onto your paths. your embrace acted as a glue repairing the broken pieces of your relationship that laid destroyed for the past how many days. your embrace acted as a genuine embrace.

"paige, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry, baby, i never wanted to leave you, you have to know that. i'm so sorry," you whisper into her hair.

one of your hands stroke her head buried in your neck. you feel her tears drip onto your thin jacket, soaking you with guilt as it hits you how desperate you were to spend the rest of your life making it up to this girl.

it was clear to you that she actually did care, unlike how you thought last summer. and because of how she was crying on your shoulder, you needed to forget about that version of her you spent so long hating - the version that constantly haunted the back of your mind.

you needed to hold her. and hold her. and hold her. and never let go.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[hoshigray]

My Professor's Final Spring Praise ༄ K. Nanami

"Before my summer break officially started, I had to finish my last in-person exam with Professor Nanami. It was so tough, but I made it through! I was the last to leave, so I thanked the professor and shared some final words before heading to my dorm to finish packing up. However, how do a few gratitude and praise exchanges end up with me on his desk and him between my legs?"

A/n: Yessirrrrrr!! First work of my very first series!! I'm very nervous about this as this is the first time committing to writing consecutively for a specific theme, but I got faith in myself!! Also, it's Nanami and my birthday!!!ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ So as soon as this is posted, I'm signing off and enjoying my day with my hubby Kento~ (sike I'm not, just gonna hang with friends, lol). But anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this piece, and thank you so very much for 1k followers~~~!!! Not my best work, but it's a decent start for the series! >:D (will proofread l8r tmrw)

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: professor! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - taboo (consensual sex b/w a professor & undergrad) - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Nanami approaching early 30s) - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - semi-missionary position (reader lies on their back on a table while Nanami stands) - public sex/sex in a university classroom - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - pining if you squint - praise - pet names (baby, darling, love, sweet pea) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - kissing/makeout sessions.

Wc: 3.4k

Dear Diary...it's been a long while since I had to come to you as an outlet for my thoughts. But something happened today that caused my mind to go rampant, and I need to rely on you again...

Today is supposed to be the best day of the year. You just finished taking your last in-person exam, you were able to finish packing up all your stuff, and you're now ready to kiss this campus goodbye until the upcoming fall season.

You could not wait to start your summer plans. Not only will you work in the internship you've been hoping to get into since last semester, but you'll finally have ample time to hang with your best friends ever — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara!

The summer break has been the end goal for the four of you, and now that your finals are finally over, there's no stopping you from enjoying the season to the best you can!

However, as much as you say you're excited, it doesn't correlate to your actual feelings at this point in time. Something happened that altered your entire perception of what the future was supposed to be.

Something so out of the ordinary that you don't know how to properly feel or think about the situation.

Something so out of the ordinary that you turn to a diary to let your thoughts out, alone in your shared dorm room when all the other roommates have left earlier in the week.

Something so completely out of the ordinary that it sends chills down your spine just reminiscing the moment before sitting at this exact desk writing about what transpired earlier.

It all started when I went to my last in-person exam with Yuuji, where everyone else was waiting for the professor...

You and Yuuji had the same Biology class to take care of one of your science credits, and the exam was to take place on the last day of finals week. Although you've been told it's not supposed to be a difficult test — it's a bunch of multiple questions, short answers, and one essay — the exam period starts from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Three hours of endless testing was enough to put you, Yuuji, and all the other classmates in shambles, embracing guaranteed failures and having no idea how to study.

Luckily, a true saint descended from above to bless you and your peers with a professor who knows what he's doing and is patient enough to lead you to the right path. Your professor, Kento Nanami, was relatively young enough to connect with his fellow students but held a well-mannered and stern cadence that gained the respect and admiration of those around him. He was able to steer you guys into a secure approach to your studying: taking in questions, making study guides for quizzes and midterms, and highlighting significant areas from the textbook throughout the semester that will be shown on today's exam.

So through all the diligent preparation and practical labs you've attended, you feel way more confident with the material than at the start of the semester. Can't say the same for Yuuji, who's more nervous than you (with his three unexcused absences and constantly coming to you for help). But as long as y'all are suffering together, that's all that matters.

The only problem is that the exam is sectioned into three parts — sixty multiple-choice questions that are one point each, ten short answer questions that are also one point each, one mix-and-match portion, and the essay is ten whole points by itself (twenty if you can answer five bonus questions afterward). So, off the bat, everyone understands why three hours are given to complete the exam. But Professor Nanami said, "You all should be fine because it doesn't necessarily have to take you all three hours to complete. So if you finish early, you can get outta here." Say less.

So once you entered the usual classroom with Yuuji, you followed through and sat distant from each other at the same table. The professor came on time as always, instructing the class on where to get the exam on the class website, giving the password to unlock it, and wishing you luck.

The only sounds in the space were people clicking their keyboards, sighs, and groans, and people packing up to leave after submitting their exams before thanking their professor for a great semester. Soon the number of students would thin out, leaving just you and Yuuji still completing your exam.

Yuuji finished at the two-hour mark, releasing an extended sigh of relief before hurriedly stuffing his laptop in his backpack. He goes down to thank and bear hug the professor. And you giggle at the expression of Nanami's dismay because he would've sufficed with a simple handshake like the other students. But that's what makes Yuuji an anomaly to the mass, being exceptionally himself no matter where or who he's with. The salmon-haired boy walks up and wishes you luck, going to his dorm to pack the last of his things and promising to pick you up when you're done.

And then it was just you and him: the professor standing at the podium in front of the classroom, reading a book while you finish the last bonus questions before submitting it on the class site. You sigh heavily, and a massive wave of relief washes over you. You did it. You handled all your exams. You're finally free!

"Finished?" You look for where the voice comes from. The professor looks up from his book at your figure.

You place your laptop in your bag and stand up from your seat. It took you twenty more minutes just to finish compared to Yuuji. "Yup! It wasn't so bad like you said, but I had more trouble with the bonus questions than everything else." You stretch your arms and legs.

Nanami chuckles at your feedback. "I see. I did say the bonus questions would be more lab-based. Good thing those who couldn't make it to some of the labs got to see me so I could help them or assign them with the other students who missed."

"You mean like Yuuji?" You walk up to the podium to be in front of your professor. "Because the poor guy couldn't make it to some of the labs because of club activities."

"Yes, Itadori is one of those students." Nanami smiles at the mention of the salmon-haired other. "He's undoubtedly a hard-working student, asking questions and enjoying the lectures. But that's for when he is in the class."

You chuckle as the subtle shade at your friend. "He does try, though! All the times we've studied together since this exam shows that he wanted to put his whole heart into this class. Not to mention that you're secretly his favorite teacher~." You mention the last part hoping it sparks something in the professor, and you're glad to see that the older man releases a wee chortle at the tiny piece of information.

"Hmm, well, I appreciate his enthusiasm and that he was deeply interested in the class. However," your professor closes his book and walks to the side of the podium, erasing an imaginary barrier between the two of you. "You also play a huge part in his engagement. He's lucky to have a friend like you."

Your brows trench, but a smile creeps past your conscious. "What makes you say that?"

"You've been a particular student in my class. Not only are you an easy grader, but you capture the material so well that Itadori trusts you enough to help him when I'm not available to do so. Anytime you ask me a question, it's always outside the textbook or linked to something you looked into outside the lectures."

The smile on your face grows large, and you look away to shield it from his vision. "Thank you, Professor Nanami."

"I won't be surprised if I check the grades later and see that you got an excellent grade." He removes his glasses and places them on the podium with his book. "I'd also suggest you consider minoring in this field if you'd like. And did you sign up for that scholarship I mentioned to you around two weeks ago?"

"Yes, I filled it out last week."

"Good." He moves a hand to place on your shoulder, and the action takes you aback because it's the first time he's ever touched you. "I expect great things from you, Y/n. I'm sure whatever you want to do in this life, you'll do just fine."

You bashfully nod at his kind words. And you extend your hand up to him to signify a ready handshake. "Thank you, professor. And thank you so much for all your help this semester."

The hand that was on your shoulder grabs hold of your hand. But what happens next was far from what you expected.

Nanami lifts your hand with his and faintly sets his lips on the back of your knuckles.

And this is the provenance of what sets everything in motion.

What he did to your hand didn't just surprise you, but also surprised him. Nanami froze with your hand still in his, not daring to move as you have yet moved an inch.

Why did I do that? It's the biggest question that runs through his mind at this time. One moment he was praising you for being one of his best students, then he busses his lips onto your hand the next. But why?

Nanami knew he was done for. Unable to look into your eyes, he can only tighten his hold on your hand. This was so not part of his routine. Today was supposed to be like any other exam day. He only came here to see his students for one last time before the start of summer break. He only came here to see his final class and have them take the exam before heading home. So why?

Perhaps it was the feelings of spring blinding him like a child. Or maybe his emotions got the better of him. But today was the last day of the semester he'd see his favorite pupil — you. Until now, the professor has done a phenomenal job maintaining an appropriate relationship between teacher and student, keeping a respectable distance while tending to his scholars.

And yet, he still would catch himself sneaking a selfish glance at you following through with his lectures, his heart swooning when you use your lovely voice to ask a question, or going blind when you flash a smile that rivals the sun's beam.

It's never right to have favorites; however, you clearly were the one that caught his attention the most.

Yet, also, this type of relationship is not the best for Nanami or you. You are a student, and he is your teacher. This could damage the reputation of both of you. It's the least favorable outcome between the two of you...

...So why haven't you snatched your hand away from mine yet?

Your hands tighten back with his, and the man finally chooses to look at you.

You're eyes bore into him, looking at him as if he's the only thing meant to have your concentration. Your breathing descends to a slower pace, but the rhythm of your heart beats the more you look at the man before you. "Professor Nanami..." you said his name in a whisper, and God, did it feel so wrong to do such a thing. As if your mouth would be thrown into a pit of flames for even calling to him with an indescribable connotation. Your mind is now fueled with a deep emotion rooted within, rooted with a scary longing.

"Y/n..." It felt even more wrong to have your name hushed in his voice, so hot to the ears that they could melt any second. Even so, a part of you wishes he would repeat it in the same tone again. Expressing the exact feeling of wanting something, wanting you.

Observant brown eyes lock in with your eyes. Faces move forward with hesitance. Eyes close. Noses begin to brush their skins against each other. And pairs of lips seal an unfortunate yet desirable event that cannot be revoked.

It takes a few minutes for you two to melt into each other from the makeout session. It takes a few minutes to block the glass windows with portable whiteboards to block the view from the outside. And it takes a few minutes for you to be a disheveled mess with your back on a table with Nanami between your legs, fingering your throbbing vulva and licking your slick and sensitive clitoris.

"Hoooh...Mmmm, Professor Nanami, your tongue. I-It feels too good—Nnnmph!!"

Nanami flicks his tongue on your sensitive, the cause for you to cry out. "Y/n, I told you. It's just the two of us, so call me by my name."

No, you mustn't. That's taking things too far. But, "K-Kentooo," that name is too tempting to not have seeped through your moans. "Your tongue and fingersss, they're too much!"

His middle and forefinger pull and push inside your gushy walls, prompting more of your sweet cries to fill the blonde man's eardrums. "Is that so? Too much for you? Think you're gonna cum?"

You nod desperately with each question, your cunt clenching around his digits as if you were to snatch them off. But that would be impossible when he's playing with your pussy like a toy. Sweat starts to form on your forehead, your orgasm inching in closer and closer by the second.

And Nanami notices, resulting in him coming to your aid for release. His tongue goes back to lapping around clit, kissing and sucking on the bud while the tempo of his fingers increases.

Your climax hits you hard, having your body twitch and quiver as the inner walls of your slit contract around the digits scraping your velvety texture. You grab tufts of his blond hair, messing up its neat shape. But neither of you cares, too engulfed with each other to worry about the details. Tears form at the end of your eyes as you experience your high, and you try to steady your breathing when your professor withdrawals himself from you.

"Good job, sweet pea. Made a mess on my fingers." He praises you while undoing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing his well-defined torso for your eyes to see. But the real prize is when he unzips his pants and pulls down his briefs, his erect cock out in the open for you to marvel at.

But before you could look at it with all its glory, the tip of his dick presses up against your cunt, sliding it up and down to warm you up before entry. The feeling of his shaft grinding on your folds and clit is enough to have chills travel down your spine.

"Alright, love, I'm gonna go slow for you, okay?" His chocolate brown eyes examine your face to give him a response. You nibble on your lip and brace yourself after confirming your cooperation. "If you want me to stop, let me know. So, take some breaths for me."

And with that, the blonde pushes his cock into you with every exhale you take, the twinge of pain making it difficult to focus. Yet you still pull through because you want this so fucking much. There's no turning back now. And when the tip of his cock finally nestles inside your vagina, a choked shriek departs from your lips.

Slowly, Nanami pushes himself into you, every inch of his cock venturing further into your welcoming, throbbing chasm. He brushes up against your sweet spots causing you to jerk up. Nanami coaxes you through it. "It's okay, darling. You're taking me so well."

Tears come streaming down when the base of his cock kisses your folds, your union now solidified. The blonde gives you a moment to get acclimated with his girth inside before he gradually instructs a patient pace of the hips.

"Mmmm, Kento. 'S so good..." You mewl into the air, your face feeling hot and sweaty. The slow rhythm of his ruts is tantalizing, but it feels so good having his length scrape your insides. "Pleaseee, go fasteeer—"

"Want it faster? Nnmmm, damn, I'll go faster, baby." When the moment is right, his thrusts quicken the cadence, provoking more blissful whimpers to fill the silent room.

Your hands find purchase on his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to cage him close to you. And Nanami takes the notion as a signal for him to dial up the speed, thrusting so deep into your pussy with an erratic tempo. Pelvis smacking hard on your slit and tender clit that it has you seeing stars.

"Hmmm, Ahh—Ahhhh! Ohhhh, fucking shit!" The harsh ruts to your lower half keep your ground to the table beneath you, sweat sticking your clothes to your back. The sounds of skin slapping each other are on par with your pornographic noises, having you feel indecent and shameful. But it's too late now.

"Hmmph! Oh, fuck," husky groans exit from Nanami, the man putting his forehead on yours. "You feel so good and tight around me, love. So close to—Ahhhh!! Shit, so close to cumming.."

You swallow the spit that secretes your mouth. "Haaaah, Kentoooo—" your eyes are shut to wholly focus on the commotion beneath you. Your sexes smacking each other, forcing you to clench around him with every thrust of the hips. "I'm about to—Nnnaaahh!! Oh, Jesus, I'm gonna cummm!"

He kisses your forehead. "You want to cum, sweet pea?"

"Yesssss, please, please, pleaseee!!" Begging for your release is all you can do as your mind turns into mush, the familiar sensation crawling back to haunt you.

He hushes your cries with his lips on yours, the final kiss filled with scorching passion while Nanami pistons a few thrusts plunging to your vulva.

Your orgasm washes over you again, and you moan blissfully into the blonde's mouth. Your gushy walls flutter around his member for the last time, coating it with your essence. And Nanami had to be quick not to sink too deep into the feeling, or else he'd spill his release into you. He removed himself from your lips and body, ejaculating his load onto your bare stomach, and you gasped at the contact of his fluids spilling on your exposed skin.

You look up to survey the man before you, and you're met with an image you never thought you'd see. Blonde hair that was once slicked neatly now had messy strands that framed his face beautifully. Sweat covered his sculpted physique, and hooded brown eyes examined your body under him.

Letting the silence calm the both of you down from your aftershocks, Nanami glances at your face and smiles. He brings a hand to cup your cheek, brushing off tears that painted your face.

"Glad to have you this semester. Have a good summer, darling."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

BAM! BAM!! BAM!!!

An abrupt sound has you stop writing on the entry, bringing you back to the present time.

It sounded like it came from the front door, so you stuff your diary into your bag and exit the room to find out who's causing all the ruckus. When you open the door, the first thing that enters your line of vision is pink hair.

Your friend, Yuuji Itadori.

"Yo!" He greets you. "Ready to go? I called up your phone like four times."

"Oh, you did? Sorry, I must've forgotten to put it back on vibrate after the exam." You move out of the way for Yuuji to enter your dorm, closing the door behind him. "My stuff is in my room. I got two suitcases, a duffel bag, and my backpack."

"Alright then, let's hurry and get out of here! Think we can take the freeway since it's late at night, and traffic should be gone by now."

Yuuji grabs your two suitcases and heads outside to put them inside the trunk of his car. You walk around to check and see if anything is missing or misplaced before heading to your room and grabbing the other bags.

Yet before you leave the space entirely, you grab your diary again and write your final thoughts.

...I don't know what possessed me to let what happened happen. But, at the same time, I don't hate it for happening? I don't know...it was probably the feelings of spring taking over me or the relief that I finished all my exams.

But one thing is for sure; if I wasn't the last person to leave that classroom, none of that would've happened. I wouldn't have experienced that new side of Professor Nanami.

And as long as this keeps between me and him, then I'm kinda glad that it happened.

[kingofthefortress]

An explanation

Tl;dr - this blog will most likely never come back. It will remain on what is essentially an indefinite hiatus unless something else ends up happening and I change my mind.

I left randomly, and want to explain why I did, properly.

If you don't know, I'm mod Rat. I was the second TADC askblog and shortly after the creation of the Kinger blog(which you are currently on) I made @zooooble, an askblog where I attempted to write as my interpretation of Zooble as opposed to Kinger, as they were two major comforts to me at the time(along with TADC as a whole).

Unfortunately, we got off to a rocky start pretty much immediately, with someone sending gore in my asks, leading to the asks being closed right after they opened. A bit later after asks were reopened, I started getting more and more odd asks - including animal abuse on Zooble's blog, and people being very gross about Kinger here and in some instances, me. This continued until I closed up the asks, which I originally didn't know would be permanent.

This ended up lining up horribly with my irl situation aswell, not to mention the fact that I was frequently disrespected in my asks. Someone even talked bad about me in Zooble's blog, thinking we were different mods.

Through all of this other mods were having lore happen to their characters, it got so overwhelming to have to keep up on anon blogs, TADC blogs, personal blogs I haven't and never will show here, it was making this feel like a chore.

Not to mention Zooble - because of several shitposts that I now regret, people were asking me and mod Soup(owner of the Gangle blog) to make Google canon. It was and never will be canon. It is a ship that now makes me uncomfortable and as I understand it, Soup aswell as they are literally in a relationship.

I didn't want this blog to get to the state it did. I just wanted to make jokey things, but it all got so complicated so quickly. It has been atrocious for my health, mental and physical. And I decided I need to stop worrying about this post. I wanted to make something like it months ago, but I didn't want to let people down. I don't care for this blog anymore.

I started a comic at some point in here, really its mostly a blur, but I ended up falling out of TADC as the third panel was being worked on. The whole Kinger wood rot arc was just something I made to make myself feel more included since other mods were doing lore with their respective characters aswell. I regret it - he would've been better as a silly character, like I started the blog with the intent to invision him as.

The TADC fandom was alright for awhile, but at this point, I am no longer interested in TADC, the characters, story, or these blogs.

The blogs were great when they started, when it was just some people having fun, but now, everything feels so odd. It's all different and not in a good way, not to the fault of the mods at all.

If you still want TADC askblogs(in the OG askblog group) -

@thecomicallytragicgangle is to my knowledge the most active, @jaxtherabbit is to my knowledge either on hiatus or inactive(though their blog is still fun to scroll through), @blue-tooth(Moon) I am unsure if they are active or not but they're an amazing artist and have a blog that's fun to go through, @theoneandonlysun is still active(I think), @cainetheringmaster is somewhat active, @theclownkaufmo(Abstractions) is a shared blog where to my knowledge there are still a few abstractions taking answers. There is of course askblogs not in this group, but these are the ones I was interacting with.

I believe @pomniii and @ragatha1 are inactive.

I will be floating around in some places in the internet, but now, this is my goodbye to this blog and all my other blogs on this account.

I guess this is just a lengthy post all to say:

Goodbye TADC. I hope you enjoyed this blog while it lasted.

[lowkeyrobin]

👀 guess who's back

Is now a bad time to request a Foosh fic?

helloooo!! ; also I'm backed the fuck up but dw I swear I'll get this shit posted LMAO ; also went for some angst cause why not (I wanted to write maze runner angst of some sort but idek I have too many reqs)

FOOLISH GAMERS ; meet you at the graveyard

summary ; you have to say goodbye to one another

warnings ; language, suicidal innuendos

disclaimers ; snow in carolina 😭🙏 forgot where bro lives for a minute, reader is 23 but can mostly be ignored ig, young sheldon reference, me venting about loss and grief kinda idek

track ; meet you at the graveyard, cleffy

word count ; 853

b/m = birth month & b/d = birth date

masterlist

Foolish somblerly walks up to the graveyard where you lay now, where you stay now. He carries a bouquet of crimson red roses in his hand, the snow under his feet making a crushing sound as he walks.

His head hangs low, the vision of the accident and your face clouding his mind as he lays eyes on your headstone. He sets the flowers down across the snow, covering the bottom of your headstone like a freezing cold blanket.

You didn't deserve this, being only twenty-three.

His fingers trace your birth date and death date fragiley, like he'd hurt you beyond the grave.

B/M B/D, 1999 - December 28th, 2022

It stung seeing those numbers like that, under this circumstance. Your birthday was something to be celebrated, bringing joy and excitement, but now it hurt. Instead of creating more fun, happy memories with you, he'd have to sit in silence and ponder, drowning in those old memories because he couldn't make any new ones with you.

He sits down, looking blankly at the grey stone, then up at the grey skies above.

He talked to you every once in a while when he visited, trying to fill the empty hole in his heart. He felt like Mary Cooper talking to you like this, still hurt and alone, just wishing it'd all get better.

"How do you ever expect me to be happy?" He asks, his tone laced with the slightest bit of anger. Anger at himself mostly, angry at the force that took you away from him. "Why isn't letting go as easy as loving you?"

Tears stream down his frost-bitten cheeks, glowing a bright red. He wasn't properly dressed for the cold, only wearing some thick shoes, jeans, and a heavy coat over a t-shirt. He'd nearly left the house wearing basketball shorts until he saw the snow in his yard.

"I can't help it, it's just the way I'm wired, I know. I just can't let go. I love you too much to even try." He shakes his head, shoulders raised as he tenses up. "Every time I see photo recaps of you on my phone, I just cry. I don't wanna cry anymore, Y/n/n. I wanna smile when I see you, but I can't."

He wipes his tears away with his thick sleeves, sniffling a bit as he attempts to keep his composure.

"You taught me so much, you gave me so many new experiences and memories and showed me things I never would've if it weren't for you. I'm here right now because of you, everything is because of you." He admits. "Getting over you feels so wrong, even if it's just trying to live with myself without you. Those words that you said before you left my house are stuck in my head like glue, I don't know what you even meant. I can't even tell between fact and fiction with it"

He thinks of it over and over again before whispering it aloud. "'See you tomorrow, maybe', what does that mean?" He questions, "What does that even mean?" He asks again, his voice breaking.

At the response of nothing, he hides his face in his hands, struggling to hold back the tears. He quickly stands up without wishing you goodbye, heading back to the front entrance to leave and get back home.

You watch as he does so, his frozen fingertips hidden in his pockets. You sat on top of your headstone, knowing he couldn't see nor hear you, hoping one day he could. You always answered his questions, responded to his statements. You'd stay there until he joined you, hoping it was later rather than sooner, if anything.

As much as you'd been waiting for him, you could wait longer. You wanted him to live the long, fulfilling life you didn't give yourself. He'd be okay without you, he just needed time to adapt.

The days flick by quickly as if they're merely seconds, showing the snow melting over time and those roses wilting. Eventually, they're fully decomposed, leaving the plastic wrapping to be picked up by a stranger visiting their loved one, as it'd blown in the wind toward them. The grass is cut again once it's warm again.

They never weed wack, but mow over the flowers Foolish left at your grave, angering him. He decided that every time he'd come, about once every two to three months, he'd plant new ones. They hadn't run over the new rose bush he'd put beside your headstone, pleasing him at least.

You watched as he grew month after month, clearly happier and healthier after each visit. They'd become more sporadic, but he'd never healed, you don't just heal after losing someone like that. You break for good, you're able to super glue the broken plate back together, but cracks and small missing pieces still remain.

His goofy laugh makes itself present one day, lighting up your whole face like you'd never smiled before. It glued together one of those broken pieces inside of you, you swore it.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

[ohtobeleah]

Never Good Enough // Mickey Garcia

Summary: People always leave Fanboy. He goes through pilots like chump change. Is it him? Is he the problem? What happens when one of the many times you’ve tried to console your husband when his demons become to brutal?

Warnings: Left Behind trope. Spooky dream vibes. Depressed Mickey. F-18 crash.

Author Note: Day Nineteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Left Behind. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Honey, I think you might be reading into this a little more than you should be.” Mickey Garcia could be described by a lot of people as a lot of different things. He could be described by his colleagues as a genuine soul whose love for aviators made excelling in his career easy. His friend could say that he had one of the most endemic memories to date– holding a plethora of knowledge about star wars, star trek and battle star galactica, basically any and all shows and movies that end in the word star at the tip of his tongue.  

Fanboy is a team player, he thrives off the people he chooses to surround himself with. He’s a social butterfly who goes from person to person through the night collecting stories and making memories laced in drunken hazes or sober serenity. He could be described as a compassionate person who goes above and beyond for the people in his life. 2

But most importantly, his wife, Y/n, could describe Mickey as a life partner who consistently shows that he is one of the best people you could ever know. He knows how to crack a joke at the right moment and lighten any mood you might find yourself in. His love for his passions and career and his wife surfaces any kind of love anyone had ever seen. 

Because Mickey Fanboy Garcia is good people. Simply put– he’s the best kind of person you want on your team. 

But despite all that, despite all the kind and gracious things people say about him–Fanboy couldn't feel any further from it. 

“But I'm not.” It was the way your husband said it that made you question if you were the one who wasn't taking his concerns as seriously as you should be. Mickey stood in the shower with his head under the warmth of the running water, hiding his tears as the muscles in his back clenched in anger. “Payback was my longest standing front seater, everyone leaves.” 

You knew it was hard on your husband to say goodbye to people who he trusted with his life. You could remember the last time Mickey was separated from his front seater. Erin was a dear friend, but you hadn’t seen her in a few years. 

“Everyone always ends up leaving me and I don't know what to do with myself.” You had a feeling this could have been about more than just Payback's new posting. There was an underlying tone of self sorrow that you picked up on as you turned around to face your husband as he showered. As you let out a soft but audible sigh, you knew that there had to be more. “Six months–six months is the longest I've had a front seater for and you wanna stand here and tell me I'm not the problem?” 

You and Mickey didn’t argue an awful lot, again, he was as kind as kind could be. But he was struggling, he had concocted this ideology in his mind that everyone around him, all his friends, his family, you, we’re going to leave. Abandon him sooner or later. 

And it didn’t help that you and Mickey had been working so much as of late that your conflicting schedules were beginning to take a toll on your ability to communicate properly. 

“I don’t think it's you babe–” You began as you made your way over to the shower door. The fog from the shower made the glass its home as you pushed it open, watching as your husband's muscles tightened at your response. But you persisted, hesitantly. “Erin, Reuban, even the guys before like Luke and Mitch, they were either stationed out or just got caught up in the reshuffle, I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with you.” 

Mickey Garcia was genuinely the best person you knew. So when he turned around with veins popping in his neck from frustration, you didn't know how to process the way his tone echoed off the walls around you. It didn't sound like your husband, the man you loved so dearly. The man who was usually the level headed, logical partner out of the two of you. 

“Y/n, just stop.” You had to pause and take a minute to register what was going on. “You've been working nights, weekends, hell you've even been working my days off– I know somethings going on.” You really had to hold your tongue as Mickey let loose. You knew it was coming from a place of anger and frustration, but regardless it was missguided, it wasn't appreciated, and it certainly could have been handled in a better way. “If you’re gonna leave too, just fucking do it.” 

Your husband never swore at you the way he just had. Mickey wasn’t himself, you couldn’t recognise the sadness in his eyes. The pain behind his tears. He was crumbling under the weight of being left behind over and over and over again by the people who mattered most. 

“You think I’d leave you?” You had to make sure you had all the dots connected before you decided to let your frustration run wild. “You think that because the people you work with change and that I’ve taken on a bigger role in the company that I’d leave you?” 

“Everyone leaves me!!” Mickey finally snapped as he ran his hands through his wet, dark brown locks. Completely soaked and clinging to his scalp and neck. “Everyone—so yeah, with the track record I’ve got going babe I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you decide I’m not good enough for you either!” You stood there completely speechless, in all the years you had known your husband you had never seen him so broken, so full of self doubt and self loathing that he had begun to take it out on you. “I’m not good enough—“ But then, the gentle stream of tears turned into someone more violent and all consuming. 

“Honey—“ You cooed as you watched your husband shake his head as painful sobs ripped through his chest. The walls were all closing in on him. Those shoulders of his that you thought could have carried the weight of the world, slumped in utter defeat and soon enough—Mickey Fanboy Garcia was on his knees under the warm stream of water, crying out for someone to stay with him. “Oh Mick, honey.” 

“Everyone always leaves.” It came out like a mantra, the voices inside his mind wouldn’t stop. “You’ll leave too, and I’ll be all alone and I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.” You had to do something, consol your husband so that he knew he wasn’t alone. He had his demons but you were there to fend them off, like a knight in shining armor. 

As Mickey kneeled under the warm stream, crying into the palms of his hands, you stripped off your clothes. Articles laid strewn across the bathroom floor haphazardly as you stepped into the shower and kneeled with your husband. 

But you can't control a nightmare that isn't yours, and you can't decide what happens next in someone else's dreams. 

It was only then did the nightmare Mickey thought he was already living turn into an all out hellscape. Your touch, usually so warm and comforting, was as cold as ice. So cold it damn near burned his cheeks. When Mickey looked up to meet your gaze he saw nothing but dark eyes that allowed him to peer into your soul. Nothing remained but a darkness so unholy that it made him jump about three feet away from you into the glass of the shower. 

“We all left you Fanboy.” It wasn’t your voice anymore, but Paybacks. “Wake up!” It was your body, but your voice had been contorted into something straight from hell. 

Mickey cried as you crawled towards him, he cowered in the corner of the shower as you cornered him in, trapping him without any kind of defense as you chuckled and smirked—the corners of your lips exaggerated to the point it looked as if your lips had been pinned to your cheeks. 

“Wake up, don’t you smell the burning fuel?” 

In that very moment Mickey gasped as the overwhelming smell of burning jet fuel choked his airways. Suddenly he wasn’t in the shower anymore—he was in the snowy pine fields laying on his back looking up at the clouds above. 

“Y/n?” He moaned as he rolled over, still coughing and splattering as he tried to gather his bearings. What had happened? Where was he? Oh. The mission. “Payback?” 

Groaning as he rose to his knees, Mickey took his helmet off and looked around the burning rubble and debris from the F-18 he’d just been in. Parts laid sprawled over the snowy field as small pockets of fire burned the twisted chunks of aluminum and carbon fiber. 

The more he looked the more he came to terms with what had happened. It was a surface to air missile. 

“PAYBACK!?” Mickey shouted as he stumbled weakly to his feet, coughing up blood as he did so from his prominent injuries. How was he even alive? “REUBEN!?” His throat was cut up. Torn apart from shouting and yelling at the top of his lungs as he walked and walked and walked through the forest to try and find his front seater. 

A panic deep inside him began to bubble over when Mickey realised that his biggest fear was coming to fruition. And when he heard the helicopter buzzing not too far from where he stood he knew that he was being left behind, he knew he was going to be left behind to die alone. 

“HEY!” He shouted as he ran as fast as he could, sprinting through the thick covering of snow as he saw Payback being hoisted into the air. “I'M HERE! WAIT!” 

No one could see him, no one could hear him. All Mickey could think about was you, his beautiful wife, being left to stamp his wing into his coffin. 

“PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!” 

But it was all to no avail, the rescue helicopter turned around and began to fly away. In the opposite direction from where Mickey stood. And his biggest fears came true. 

Mickey Fanboy Garcia wasn’t good enough to be saved. He wasn’t good enough to not be left behind, and he certainly wasn’t going to be rescued. 

He’d been left behind. 

***~***~***~***~***~**~***~***~***~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

[suddenlybambi]

as long as you stay here [6] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.8k

chapter 6

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a/n - 2.8k words for this one 💀 i need to catch up writing because i simply can't refrain myself from posting a chapter a day

fortunately i am british and we have a long bank holiday weekend so the next 3 days are gonna be full of writing

“Wait!” Kyle called out as Y/N started walking towards the diner after saying her goodbyes and thank yous for dropping her off.

He pulled her apron, neatly folded over and cleaned, out of the trunk of his car. He began jogging over to her to hand it over, but his foot managed to catch on something. Before he could register what was happening, Kyle flew through the air. He landed on the ground, one hand on the apron, which helped cushion his fall, but the other wasn’t so lucky as it slid across the gravel of the car park. “Shit, that hurt….” 

“Oh god, Kyle,” Y/N ran over to him, he wanted to tell her not to in case she tripped as well, but she was next to him within seconds, his injured hand cradled in her own hands, inspecting the damage. “We need to get this cleaned! Are you okay to walk? Did you hurt your legs at all? Is your back okay?”

“Just my hand,” He sighed, looking down at the now-soiled apron that he had spent about an hour making sure was perfectly clean for Y/N. “I hope I didn’t scuff your apron up.”

“Fuck my apron!” She shook her head, flicking the apron to the side. “I don’t give a shit about that, but I do give a shit about you! Come on; there is a first-aid kit in the diner.” She carefully pulled him to his feet and walked him towards the door. One arm was looped around his waist as she held the wrist of the hand that was injured out in front. She didn’t need to support him as he walked, he was perfectly fine aside from his hand, but he saw the determined look on her face and realised that even if he insisted he was okay, she wouldn’t believe it until she knew for certain. 

The warmth of the diner was a stark contrast to the cold October air of Denver. “Finally letting us meet your-” Doris had perked up as soon as she saw Y/N guiding Kyle in. She had been begging to meet him since day 1.

“Not right now, Doris!” Y/N interrupted, leading Kyle behind the counter to the small break room next to the kitchen. It was just a square room with two chairs and a table, barely bigger than a supply closet, really, but it was out of sight from the rest of the diner. “Grab the first-aid kit for me.” Without another word, Doris disappeared for a second and reappeared with a little green box.

“It’s really not that bad,” Kyle mumbled, but Y/N wouldn’t listen as she gently took his hand and started to wipe it down with an anti-septic cleaner. He hissed at the pain but tried to suppress it as he worried she would think he was weak. Doris decided she couldn’t do much to help, so she left the two be and went back to the front counter to continue serving customers, though there fortunately weren’t many. 

Kyle and Y/N sat in silence while she cleaned and bandaged up his hand, the only noises being his occasional hiss of pain. Each time, she would gently soothe him by stroking her thumb across his wrist, which worked wonders in distracting him. Unfortunately, it just flustered him.

“I think that is the best I can do with what we have,” She broke the silence after inspecting her work to ensure everything was bandaged properly. “Oooh! I can do one more thing!” She picked his hand up and drew it close to her face, placing a feather-light kiss on the bandage. If Kyle wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was after that.

“Did you just…” He paused as he tried to comprehend what happened. “Did you just kiss it better?”

“Hopefully!” She grinned at him, placing his hand back down on the table. “How does it feel? Can you hold anything?”

“Uh… Not sure…” Kyle looked around for something to hold to see if he could do it without pain, but Y/N beat him to it by slipping her hand in his. He would have enjoyed it if it didn’t hurt so much.

“I hope that face is because you’re in pain and not because you hate holding my hand,” Y/N laughed, letting go. She froze, her own words processing in her mind. “I’m so sorry! That completely came out wrong! I didn’t mean to say that I hope you’re in pain; I hope you’re not in pain, but you clearly are, and I am just making things worse by talking….” Kyle surprised himself and her when he leaned over and used his good hand to pull her into a hug. Up until that point, she had initiated every hug as he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” He whispered, pulling away and settling back down in his seat. He froze as he saw a man in the doorway. His expression was unreadable to Kyle, possibly somewhere between annoyance and anger, but it was really difficult to tell. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but there is-“

“Jay, I’ll be out in a minute!” Y/N groaned, not needing to look around to know her boss was in the doorway. He grunted and turned back around to go back to the kitchen. “Sorry, he gets grumpy when people don’t work to his standard… and when they do… He’s always grumpy… Do you want me to call someone to come and get you? You can’t drive with your hand like that.” Kyle didn’t want to leave. Y/N was only working for 4 hours, and he didn’t want her making her own way home late at night when he wouldn’t even have a car to drive to get her if she needed him because it would be stuck in the car park.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” He asked. “I’ll sit back in the diner and study until your shift is over.”

“That’s not for another 4 hours!” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat as she looked at him. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home?”

“I’d be more comfortable here with-“ He almost said he’d be more comfortable with her. It was true, but he didn’t want to make things weird between them. “I’ve got my books with me, so I can just study, which is what I would be doing anyway.”

“You’ll get all the crappy free coffee and food you want,” Y/N smiled, giving in. “Come on; I’ll sit you in the best spot. The window has a great view of the dumpster, and sometimes a raccoon will pop out. His name is Big Dave, and he is a single father raising two little girls.” 

Kyle didn’t pay much attention to studying while he was in the diner. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N as she worked. She had an answer to every question from every customer, and she delivered them so confidently. Even when a customer was rude, she had a smile on her face that seemed genuine.

The only exception was when a woman kicked up a fuss after paying for her burger and fries.

“Here is your change, ma’am,” Y/N handed over the cash after the woman paid at the register. She seemed to be in her late 40s or early 50s, and her scowl was one that rivalled Cartman’s when he didn’t get his way.

“This is the wrong amount,” She scoffed. “I gave you two $20 bills.”

“You gave me one $20 bill, your total was $15.67, and I gave you $4.33 change. You didn’t give me a tip,” Y/N calmly explained. “I can ask my manager to double-check my math if you want?”

“I gave you two $20s!” The woman repeated herself, crossing her arms and stamping a foot on the floor. “You need to give one back.”

“Ma’am, it has been a slow evening so far,” Y/N had taken a deep breath before speaking. Kyle watched from his booth, absolutely mesmerised by how poised she was able to stay despite how aggressive the woman had already become. “There is one singular $20 bill in this register. It is the first one we have received tonight. It is lonely, and if you listen close, you can hear its cries for companionship. If you had given me two $20 bills, it wouldn’t be sat in this register as single as me on Valentine's Day stuffing three boxes of chocolate in my mouth while watching true crime and reminding myself why it’s better that I’m painfully alone because I can never truly trust another living soul.”

“I don’t-” The woman was about to argue back, but Y/N wasn’t done.

“If you’re so insistent that you gave me two, then where do you think the missing $20 bill has gone? Has a portal opened to another dimension where the magical pixies have taken it to turn into a blanket for the needy? Have the $10 bills murdered it and disposed of the body in a gang-related crime? Did the other $20 bill develop a sudden fetish for cannibalism and eat it? Or do you think that maybe, maybe, you lied in an attempt to get free food and steal money from this poor little diner?” Y/N held the woman’s gaze for what felt like an eternity for Kyle but was really only 10 seconds at most. The woman, without saying another word, turned around and left the diner. “Have a wonderful evening, ma’am!” Y/N called out after her, a small little smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Attagirl!” Doris patted her on the back. “Taught you well!” Y/N laughed, turning her attention over to Kyle and giving him a dazzling grin. He couldn’t help but smile back at her with the same enthusiasm.

The next hour passed by uneventfully. Y/N took orders, cleaned tables, and chatted with the few regulars, but the diner was next to empty. Kyle managed to get a little bit of studying done, but each time he looked down to focus, he caught the smell of Y/N’s perfume as she walked past and got distracted again.

“Y/N, hun, the diner is as dead as my grandpappy,” Doris patted Y/N on the shoulder as she cleaned the same table for the fourth time in a row. “Why don’t you two head off early?”

“You sure?” Y/N looked around for anything that needed to be done. “What if there is a sudden rush?”

“At 9pm on a Thursday?” Doris let out a short little laugh. “Honey, if that happens, I’ll call you. But we’ve never had a late Thursday rush in the twenty years we’ve been running this shithole.” Y/N took this into consideration before making up her mind with a nod.

“Should I get us an Uber?” She slid into the booth seat opposite Kyle, taking his injured hand to examine it and make sure the bandage was still in place.

“It actually doesn’t hurt that much anymore. I should be okay to drive,” He smiled, tapping the wound and holding back the winces of pain that threatened to escape and betray his composure. “It’s not far to yours or mine, and I’d rather not leave my car here overnight.”

“Security camera is broken,” Jay added from the other side of the window to the kitchen. “Ain’t safe leaving it here.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” She was absentmindedly tracing her fingers around the bandage, making Kyle shiver a little. He hoped Y/N hadn’t noticed, but the knowing look that Doris gave him from behind the counter said that the older woman definitely had.

“I’m sure, come on,” He grabbed his bag as well as hers since he had been keeping guard over it at the booth, swinging both over his shoulder. Y/N immediately took them from him before he could take a single step, grumbling something about him being injured. “Thank you for the food and coffee!” He called out to the two owners of the diner. Jay grunted, and Doris responded by saying he was welcome whenever he wanted.

“She loves you,” Y/N smiled once they were outside. “And he may not show it, but Jay likes you too. He plated you up way more fries than he usually does for people. That’s the equivalent of a fatherly hug in Jay's terms.” She opened his door for him and chucked their bags on the back seat before getting into her usual spot in the passenger seat.

“You dealt with that horrible woman really well,” Kyle complimented while starting up the car, being careful with his hand on the wheel. “I’ll have to start watching you more. I think I could pick up some tips for being a more assertive lawyer.”

“Watching me more suggests you already watch me a little?” Y/N teased. Kyle’s face heated up. He was about to stutter out some excuse, but she saved him the embarrassment by changing the subject. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m sure,” He insisted again. “My hand barely hurts anymore.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same when he finally pulled up to Y/N’s apartment. He had accidentally gripped the wheel a little too tight when Y/N reached over to fix the collar of his shirt while at a red light. Fortunately, they were only a block away from the apartment at that point.

“Come on; you’re staying over. You can’t drive like that,” His poker face was poor and had given away his pain in an instant. She didn’t give him any other options this time. She just pulled him into the apartment and straight to her room. They hadn’t stayed overnight together since that first night. Kyle was somehow more nervous now that he knew her better. “Happy to wear these again?” She held up the clothes he wore to sleep the last time he was round.

“Of course,” He nodded, taking them from her. “I’ll get changed in the bathroom again.” He turned to the door, but she caught his arm.

“Clyde is in there; you won’t want to go in for another hour at least,” She sighed, having heard the music he played out loud every time he was in the bathroom when they entered the apartment. “Just get changed in here. We can face the walls if you’re uncomfortable?” He didn’t trust his voice to not crack as he spoke, so Kyle just nodded, turning to face the wall and getting dressed.

“Ready,” He announced, once changed. She confirmed she was too, but when Kyle turned around, his eyes widened as he realised she wasn’t wearing pants, just a long t-shirt and underwear. “Are you going to be comfortable in that?” Y/N looked down, confused. It took her a second to realise what he was referring to.

“Ah shit, sorry, I didn’t even think about that. It’s hot in here right now, and this is how I would usually sleep,” She looked around her room. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I have some shorts somewhere-”

“No! It’s fine!” He hadn’t meant to sound eager, but he was worried it had come out that way. “Uh- I mean, if you’re more comfortable like that, then I’m okay with it.”

“I didn’t think anyone could be worse than Stan and Wendy, and I share a wall with them,” Kyle mumbled, turning his head to look at Y/N as she settled against the pillow next to him. “I can’t believe they’re that loud from across the apartment.”

“This is my life,” She sighed, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculousness. “It’s honestly impressive; they go for an hour straight almost every night.”

“Next time, you’re sleeping around mine,” He exhaled softly, closing his eyes.

“Already planning another sleepover with me?” His eyes widened at her words, despite her teasing tone. “Good, you smell nice. It’s very comforting to be next to you.” Kyle thought his heart would stop beating when he heard that, but when Y/N rolled over towards him and wrapped her arm around him while she rested her head on his chest, he was sure it had stopped, and he was dead. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” He answered without thinking, his uninjured hand resting on her waist before he could register what he had just agreed to. There was no way she couldn’t hear how heavy his breathing had suddenly become as he tried to calm himself down.

Then again, Clyde and Bebe’s moans had somehow increased in volume. It was hard to hear his own thoughts over that.

“Goodnight, Kyle,” Y/N managed to get out through giggles. Her laughter soothed him more than anticipated.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

a/n - let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah @cosmicbroenies @himoutolikesjojo @katnipkoffee

[nicolesainz]

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (CP 10)

Christian Pulisic x f!reader

Warnings: heavy swearing, angst, violence and fluff

A/N: as if it isn’t already obvious from where i was inspired to write this one shot (the connection between chris and maathp can’t be undone, but im glad)

Summary: you always counted on yourself to defend against the bullies and mean comments on the press, although now things have changed, as he will be the one saving you from running in the dark

“She’s only on the team because of her boyfriend being the captain. Otherwise she’d be in a B category”

“She has two left feet. Can’t even kick a ball properly”

“Poor Christian, hope he finds someone better than her”

“Pulisic being with a girl out of his league? Shameful.”

Usually, one would find me in our room crying my heart out and with my mind racing between ‘Would Chris be better without me?’ and ‘What must I do to improve myself’.

I’ve been receiving this comments ever since mine and Christian’s relationship was announced. We had the support of friends, family and teammates and from a big portion of the fans, but some of them bite back. They don’t like what they see.

Well, they mostly don’t want to see me.

Girls hate the fact that their favorite footballer is taken and boys think I’m privileged enough to be on the Women’s USA team.

I’ve always told Chris to not respond any of these. That they don’t affect me. But they do. They hurt and I am a human, not a fucking robot.

He always wants to reply or post something on his story about defending me and leaving us to our peace, but I tell him to stay back. I don’t want anyone to hate him or have him receive nasty comments. He surely doesn’t deserve this.

We were now at Cobham, while he was training, I was discussing with the team about our next session. I decided to take a break and just scroll through my insta. I recently posted a pic of me and the team, reaching the semi-final at Copa America and once again, they were there

“You did nothing”

“Useless player”

“Only there because of Chris”

“Just leave. We don’t need you”

“Next time, I will break your phone in half and throw it in a pond” I look up to see the constantly kind Mason.

He was the only one who knew about this ugly situation. Mostly because he once caught be crying at their changing room. It was one of my most vulnerable moments. And I was glad to have him there.

“Don’t tell Chris. Please. I am fine. I’ve been used to them”

“But you shouldn’t be. Let him help you. He can shut their mouths. I know you are strong but you shouldn’t have to put up with their bullshit”

Mason sat next to me, not removing his eyes from mine. We had grown very close and was my best friend. He knew that I wasn’t in a position to pressure Chris into doing something that may hurt him publicly.

“Maybe I will just disappear from social media. The fans will still see me at the club’s posts and I won’t bother seeing the comments. Problem solved” I shrugged and put my phone in my pocket.

“You shouldn’t have to limit yourself to please others. You will say, do and post whatever you want. They aren’t in your place to understand the worries and pains of this sport”

He is right. I do agree. But I can’t fight back this time. I fear that no matter what I say, it will come back at me like a boomerang. Fuck!

Before Mason gets on to continue, Christian comes up to us with Ben following him. He looks exhausted but also with a questionable look plastered on his face.

“Why hello, Y/N. What brings you around?” Ben greets me with a hug.

“Here to support the superstar. Plus, I’ll be leaving soon for the international games, so as much time as I spent with him, the better” I smile at my boyfriend who has his arms around my waist, softly kissing my collarbone.

“All the best! Hope the team does well. We have faith in ya!”

“Shall we get going babe?” Chris asked me, looking at the time on his phone.

I simply nodded my head smiling and collectively said goodbye to his two teammates, first to Ben and then Mason.

Once I finally was for the last time in Mason’s embrace he whispered in my ear ‘he loves you more than anything and would fight the world just to see you happy’

I held Christians hand in mine and walked back to his car. The ride despise it being silent, it was comforting as my eyes didn’t remove from his beautiful physique. I loved admiring him.

In Chris, I had found true love and compassion. Feelings I thought didn’t exist, until we met.

When we reached our house, Christian dropped his bag on the floor and immediately spoke up.

“Please talk to me” he sounded like pleading.

“What do you mean?” I knew what he meant. Very well!

“Baby let me help you. Mason has told me about the incident back in the changing rooms.”

“I’m a burden to you Chris. Nothing more. And I hate doing this to me” tears start escaping my eyes.

Christian instantly wrapped me in his arms tightly. “Your name in my mind, has as its synonym the word ‘love’. You could never be a burden. More like my source of happiness”

“People are judging you for being with me and telling you deserve better. Which you do. You’re deserving of the world.”

“But you are my world. I don’t want anything fucking else but you, my dear. Let them judge. They don’t know what a wonderful woman you are!”

“What if we-“

“Don’t you dare fucking finish this sentence. I will never leave you. And neither will you me. I will fight for you. I don’t give a single penny if they start hating on me or talking shit about me. As long as you’re with me, I can handle everything else”

Chris cupped my cheeks, not wanting to remove his hands from any part on my body. I knew that without him, I wouldn't feel safe or loved. It's a feeling that only one person can create. And I am more than thankful to have had this with him.

"I don't want to hurt you, I love you more than anything that I have. I do not wish for people to hate you just because of me. This is unfair."

My eyes are bloodshot red and a soft kiss lands on my lips, as Chris has the urge to prove something to me with that move.

"A kiss, a touch and a hug of yours, are the reasons I breathe. Without you, I would be hurt. Without you life would be meaningless. Football is my career but you are my present and certainly future. I love you, Y/N and I will fight the goddamn world for you. No one else, you hear me?"

"Can you hold me like this forever? From the moment we met, I have never wanted to stay in a place so badly" I cooed softly, hiding my head on his chest.

"Baby, we can stay like this forever. Since that's what we both want, then it stands. And I had no intention of letting you go any time soon. I have planned a lot of things for us"

At moments like these, you know that if the person in front of you, would guard you with his life no matter the case, they are your one true love.

[hesaykise]

Shifting woah o.o

Okay y’all, yesterday I made a post that I was going to tell you my shifting experience. :0

So yeah…I actually experienced a shift which was so interesting…lemme not babble anymore and get straight to the point (since that’s probably why you’re reading this :3).

Disclaimer: I am not a professional nor am I experienced in anything related to shifting/manifestation or anything of the sort. Everything I write down is purely from my own experimentation.

The shift that I experienced yesterday (4/18/2024) was mostly with the help of a video from slade - Obelisk. (There’s something in slade’s videos I swear 😭😭)

ALSO, I listened to MOON HOUR on YouTube as well. (Felt some powerful shift in real time as I was affirming - I look ethereal.)

I closed my eyes and set the intention that I would shift. I don’t know why but I started to affirm, “I am in the 8th dimension.” There was no specific reason or rhyme as to why I focused specifically on the 8th dimension? I think I might have seen somewhere 8D on a YouTube video and I just remember thinking let me say this. Again, no specific reason. It just popped into my head.

When my started affirming this - I saw a light forming from the top of my eyes. I did have the lights on in my room, but it felt as if a brighter light was forming beyond the regular level of brightness. I then started focusing on the brighter light and felt as if I was being pulled into a different space. I was still physically present, but it was if my whole being was pulled somewhere different. I then see a vivid scenario of myself talking to a guy that I follow on twitter. We then started having conversations/random banter. I want to add that I have never spoken to this guy on a personal level. I haven’t been properly introduced before but the way we were talking was as if we had known each other for years.

I then wanted to focus on other manifestations that I had in mind. So I finish and tell him goodbye and then instantly was able to move into the timeline of the dream I had about getting the job I just got. After dabbling a little bit into that, I then decided I was physically waking up and then I was back. (Honestly I think might have cut off too early from shifting because my body felt weird after that.)

Sooo what does this all mean? Honestly, I can’t tell you. It’s the first time I’ve ever consciously shifted. I do know that I will keep experimenting. I find it very fascinating.

I don’t expect anyone to believe me. Maybe you might think I’m making this up or I just imagined everything. That’s okay. You believe what you believe, just as I believe that I have shifted. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way for anyone to do a specific thing. This is my personal record and interpretation. I’m just sharing it with you all. Hopefully you found something in this post interesting and will prompt you to try your own shifting or manifestation experience. ☺️

Love y’all!

Kise out~ 🫶🏽♥️

[syrips]

hello im gonna pin this post

hello my name is Syrips, im a super duper simp and simp/self-insert enabler for others who love strahd or any cos/ravenloft/fictional characters

im 28, but i sometimes say im thirty as a vague response because its easier and faster to say (or safer to say to strangers)

i think i am autistic but i am currently only self-diagnosed; i plan to tell my doctors once i compile a binder of reasons why i think im autistic based on noted events in my childhood, behavior, and my reflected perspective on things in pages of charts and text which is a totally neurotypical thing to do

im genderfluid and i am fine with any and all pronouns (different people may use different/changing/fluid pronouns on me, i am completely fine with this)

im polyamorous and pansexual/panromantic, i gush over games that have polyamory/pan options!!

i have huge CoS/Ravenloft spoilers so please, PLEASe do not enter unless you are fine with being spoiled with all kinds of content. i also wont explain what is or isnt 'canon' because, well, some things may be canon for one person, while potential/not-canon for another, so i really cannot confirm or deny it myself.. ask your DM for confirmation! (and for my players who are here, hehe, goodluck figuring it out!)

i do music, art, crafting, and streaming sometimes, here is my linktree: https://linktr.ee/syrips

please 'ask'/message/send me any and all of your curse of strahd and/or ravenloft works of art! this can include these and more!:

playlists

moodboards

art/portfolio/link to your art or artblog

pages of your OC/PC/dnd lore (both player and DM welcome)

campaign/session notes and storytime

canon and potential-/home-/head-canon dumps

narrations/imagines/ao3/google docs/fanfic/fic writings

cool crafts!!

i crave it more than strahd craves blood, please and thank you!

you can also send me stuff and let me know if you want me to gush/simp over it, provide advice, or simply acknowledge it (publicly or privately)! let me know in advance cuz i dont want to make you uncomfortable with what you share

i have no limits on triggering fictional content, just make sure to tw it properly if it is sensitive content for others

my Ask thingy is always open, i may ramble alot if i get passionate enough though so be warned! hehe

ok goodbye ill edit or change this whenever idk

Edit Entry 1 - 11th Moon, 2023

for context, keita/raze (he/him) is my irl partner. he's been a simp for alucard (castlevania) longer than i've begun simping for strahd. i only discovered this years into the relationship when we watched castlevania (where i expected to be a bigger simp for castlevania), and instead HE made high pitch simping noises as alucard appeared on the screen and i was like -sus eyes- wait a GOSH DARN MINUTE-. also, keita has a thing for necks. i shrugged it off when he first told me, but years later i started simping for strahd and now i look back at that moment like 'hm. odd.-'. anyways, i mostly started dating him because he sounds like a kermit the frog southern guy who goes 'howdy howdy' and he says 'i should be golden' unironically and i think thats pretty funny

i tag stuff as #making a keita tag so when keita presses this he can see all the stuff that he likes so that i can organize stuff and incase he ever decides to poke around my blog and use this tag search within my blog

Edit Entry 2 and 3 - 12th Moon, 2023

syrips OC/PC list (loosely alphabetical)

Other People's Adored OC/PC list (loosely alphabetical)

Edit Entry 4 - 7th Moon, 2024

hi huge warning that im fucking WEIRD. like i know people may enjoy the idea of me for entertainment/indulgence purposes but please please. if you ask/tell me to do something, i will 90%-chance take it seriously and respond bluntly/directly. please take my warnings seriously and please please interact with me responsibly!!

and i already know some would be like, 'oh syrips people always say that. they wanna act unique/special by calling themselves weird'. like. thats fair if people dont believe that but please dont be surprised when freakos start feeling more comfortable/vulnerable around you and you become shocked. like. stop trying to shame/blame freakos for what they've warned since the beginning. please, it's hurtful and disrespectful.

my asks are always open, be as blunt/direct as you want. most of my cws will be with "cw: " before it. let me know if you want me to cw tag something!

i use the #be cringe be free tag for weirdos/freakos/happy/indulgent stuff. this can include stuff that isnt 'cringe', and/or cringe we embrace. it's okay to be cringe. it's okay to say cringe culture is dead. it's okay to not see things as cringe. it's okay to embrace the cringe. it's okay to indulge, to be your favorite version of you. it's okay to indulge, even if it's unfamiliar/scary. i use the tag for moments of doing what makes you happy, regardless if youre unfamiliar with that indulgent feeling. be cringe be free!!

[bloodyfeverdreams]

Whumptober Masterlist

This is my first masterlist, but let's see if I can pull it off haha

Bakugou "Doesn't Get Sick"- Katsuki's fine. He's totally fine, it's just too hot outside. and inside. It's nothing, his headache is from dealing with everyone's bullshit, and getting annoyed at Todoroki for being his assigned partner. He's fine.

Prompts 1, 2, 3, 7, 13, and 15- Swooning, Thermometer/Delirium, "Make it stop", "Can you hear me?", Cold Compress, and "I'm fine"

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I'm Fine (Don't Peek Behind the Curtain)- Honestly, Shinsou hasn't been in class 1A for long, but god, it seems like Bakugou has the biggest case of 'main character syndrome' he's ever seen. His entire personality is just being an asshole, and Shinsou is already tired of it. But when a villain makes Bakugou's internal pain show externally, Shinsou sees just how wrong he was.

Prompt 4, 6, 22, and 29- Shock, Made to Watch, Watch Out, and Troubled Past Resurfacing

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Lost in the Darkness- Katsuki is already having a seriously shitty day when the building he, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Uraraka is in collapses. From there, everything just gets worse and worse. He should've known better, he said "today couldn't get any worse", and he jinxed himself.

Also known as trying to keep the blindfold on Katsuki as long as possible ;)

Prompt 5, 9, 10, 17, 18, and 30- Pinned Down, You're A Liar, Stranded, Touch Aversion, Blindfold, and Bridal Carry

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Stricken- Trying to rescue Kaminari from his own dumbassery, Katsuki gets struck by lightning.

Prompts 8, 11. 16, 25, 27- All the Things I've Done, "All the light's gone out and my hope's destroyed", Chasing Cars, Storm, and Scars

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Never Shall We Die- Katsuki walks the plank to save his crew, willing to die so they don't. Waking up on a beach alive wasn't something he'd thought possible, and his rescuer is even more inexplicable.

Prompts 14, 21, 24, and 28- Water Inhalation, Restraints, Goodbye Note, Sacrifice

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shidekobushi- Katsuki has a stalker who gives him something she shouldn't

Prompt 19 and 23- Floral Bouquet and Stalking

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Friends Are The Best Obvious Solution- Katsuki hasn't been able to properly sleep for a while, having nightmares that leave him unable to get back to sleep until he has to get up again. The squad notices something's wrong, and decide that they're gonna help no matter what Katsuki says.

Prompts 12, 20, 26, and 31- Insomnia, Found Family, "Sometimes I Get So Tired, I Don't Know Myself", and "I thought I was getting better"

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[alicemitch09writes]

I just finished (un)loving miya atsumu and wow what a ride. I'm normally a silent reader, who gives likes maybe reblogs on fan fiction, but I want to give my appreciation and love to the author!!

I just want to thank you for writing this fic, and that I cried a lot and my heart aches and my headaches and I don't know what to do with my life now. I just happen to see this fic on a post on fic recommendations of miya atsumu and thank god I read it. While I was reading it, I had high hopes that atsumu and oc will get through it and be together at the end but, I was wrong at first I was like "I don't agree with this ending they should've had a second chance". Because as a hopless romantic, who always has consumed too many "love conquers all" type of media, it kinda of a slap to the face because in real-life, it doesn't always work that way. And that I think that if we had an ending where oc and atsumu get together, I think atsumu wouldn't be facing the consequences of his actions.

The fact that he wouldn't even give her a chance to explain herself properly, that she didn't sabotage his attempt to confess to his first love/crush. I mean they were young and like I mean I get it we were teenagers once, awkward, don't know how to handle emotions really well. But, the oc was/is their best friend, they grew-up together basically, and the fact that his immediate thought-process after seeing her letters was that she was sabotaging him, that she was capable of doing that to him, one of the people closes to her heart. During that part, my heart-ached for the OC. The feeling of betrayal, confusion, heart-ache, humiliation that she must have felt when he was reading her letters, where she wrote a very vulnerable piece of her heart on, to the team and when he ignored her for a year. I mean, it's a sad and traumatic experience to have someone, close to you, treat you like that and that he thought that you were capable of doing that to him. If it were me, I would be thinking, "Do you really think that I am capable of doing that to you?" "Was I a bad-friend to you" "Did my friendship with you, over the years, not show my sincerity, love and loyalty for you?"...I understand her stance in moving forward and as she should, I have yet to read the suna fic but, I think reading one angsty fanfic was enough for today. But, I did read forever person epiphanies, which made me cry more, but t'was great. I loved that the oc moved forward, got married, had children,... I loved that she got her happy ending.

On another note, I like the depiction of growing-up, that everything won't stay the same, letting go, that everything is futile and ephemeral, and that you should enjoy your youth and not waste it. I loved the quote that the oc said, "We can't always be ruled by our past after all. How else are we going to move forward?" that will be forever embedded in my mind along the "We don't need memories". And that we should cherish the people around you, that you should appreciate them and that don't be a scrub like Atsumu was in this universe JSAJSJ, I wish him well, and I hope he will find someone special too. Or not. BUHAHUSDkKk

Anyways, this is one of fics that I will be thinking about for a long time. And I wanna say thank you again for writing it and sharing it, even though the price of reading it was my sanity. AND LIKE OMG YOU'RE FILIPINA, I LOVE IT MY FELLOW KABABAYAN. Throughout this fic, I couldn't stop thinking about the song "IF EVER YOU'RE IN MY ARMS AGAIN, THIS TIME I'LL LOVE YOU MUCH BETTER"…!! I'm sorry if this rant was too long, I just really have a lot to say.

I'm goingto return to the fluff corner of Tumblr. Thank you and Goodbye!

thank you, thank you, thank you very much for the read, sweetpea~

probably my favorite process of writing it was reminding myself over and over of the setting and the characters involved were teens. there was a myriad of emotions I've gotten since posting the fic years ago (wow, it's old lol) and though some were good and bad, it still did its job of making people feel things. because again, we were all teens once and we all wished life went the way we wanted it to. sadly, it never will.

even though i've already set on the ending and many didn't like it (at least in tumblr, my ao3 readers were fine with the ending), I wanted to stand my ground and give an ending /I/ wanted to share and remind everyone that you don't always need to be together romantically to be happy. sometimes, you just need closure.

(unrelated, but i'm listen to the natlan live symphony writing this, so I got a boost but it feels like I'm prepping for battle hahahaha)

[trappedtowers]

Trapped Towers Dev History ~ How We Got Here (Part 2)

(Middle art piece done by @/evilredyoshis)

Hey everybody !!

Part 2 of the "How We Got Here" blog posts today. After covering the original Trapped Towers, Undertale AU territory, Megalovania Hell, and much more... we're finally getting to the original project side of stuff. Almost. A little more Undertale AU stuff to push through, but this is the transition period for it all.

So, without further ado - lets get back into it.

August 2020 - May 2021 ~ Seeing Change:

2020 was an interesting year. The end of 2019 had seen me begin to focus on original projects and ideas again, with Undertale content taking a backseat as I hadn't uploaded in ages. AnoVerse was born and pushed me to learn more coding than I had before. But as the months indoors passed by I ended up finding myself back to one place... Trapped Towers.

Looking through everything there was, this was the first time I'd gone "this really isn't that original or unique... I should make it more unique" and so that's what I started doing. Rewriting, designing, composing, crafting ideas galore for what a new Trapped Towers would be... but it was slow as I kept popping in out of it since I'd just start game development classes and they took priority, as well as my music which slowly began to get lots more attention than expected.

On the music side though, a plan began forming in my brain as the 3rd anniversary of Ministry of Death began approaching and my brain told me it was finally time to make Ministry of Death 4. A showcase of the new direction I wanted to take Trapped Towers, while also celebrating and saying goodbye to what it once was. I started building it up. I remastered V1 and posted it 3 months before MoD's 3rd anniversary. V2, remastered and posted 2 months before.

Then I got ill. And I couldn't finish V3 remastered in time for 1 month before... so I changed my plan of action. At the beginning of 2021, I teased Ministry Of Death 4 finally, with a snippet I'd already made showing that it wasn't just going to be another "megalovania". I then delayed V3 remastered to the initially planned release date for V4, and V4 got pushed back to my own 4th anniversary since I started making music - March 20th.

So V3 remastered happened, then eventually the day came for V4. I'll never forget it, it felt amazing that day. The love and support and excitement from friends, fans, etc over what turned out to be a ~7 minute orchestral battle piece was great. Seeing reactions in live time, getting messages and DMs... it was incredible. All the while too I had began to start pumping out ideas for the new Trapped Towers more rapidly than ever, creating a major document to contain all the information, dropping the Undertale AU title and beginning it's adventure into an original fan project...

This all led up to May 14th 2021, when I officially opened applications to join the new Team Towers (later renamed TeamT).

Old Content:

A lot of concepts and ideas between this time began to merge together as past this, TeamT basically had the base I'd provided to work with - but not every story beat was worked out yet. 2021 Trapped Towers was still filled with plot holes, blank chapters, under-developed characters and so much more. Not to mention when planning this the original reboot name was going to be "Trapped Towers: Revisited" ??? I just found that out from an old tweet of mine as I was looking that's CRAZY.

The screenshot of the "public doc" I did find, but the public document doesn't actually exist anymore as it got turned into an old private one. As much as I want to share an old document like that - this time period is entering when Trapped Towers story beats were starting to form properly and there is some major spoilers that are still relevant.

There's not loads else to share though so !! I hope you enjoyed part 2 of this small little series. I will ensure that part 3 is written up for tomorrow !! Until then, cya

- JustDaniel

[themarginalthinker]

The fic will not be posted for a while, because we are planning on writing the majority of it before beginning posting, but here is an excerpt from the prologue of @berd-alert and I's coming Lost Boys fic 'You Can't Catch Me (And Make Me a Man)'.

Prologue - A Letter to Sam Emerson 

 Hey little brother. 

If you’re reading this, then it means I’m dead. Well, not <i>dead</i> dead. The other kind. Sorry, I guess that’s kind of a dramatic way to start this thing. Let me start over.

So, you remember the summer of ‘87, right? I hope you do. It feels like a million years ago now. Well, turns out, we didn’t end up killing them. I mean, I think you probably figured that out, or guessed at it, by now. Honestly, I think that might be a relief to know? It was for me. But I’m rambling. I think it’s about time I got to the point. 

I want you to know what happened. Not just what you were there for, but all of it. All the things I wasn’t able to tell you, the things that we didn’t know. It’s been a long time since that summer, and it feels like a longer time since I was able to actually make sense of everything going on in my life. That sounds worse than it actually is. I’m fine, I promise. Though, I think I might deserve to not be fine after running out on you and Mom. Sorry about that, as little as I’m sure that means. Right now, especially. It was a decision that made more sense in the moment, but more and more I find myself regretting that I didn’t try to explain it, or at least say goodbye properly. I lost that chance with Mom, Sammy. I’m not gonna let the same thing happen with you. 

-

It was a Tuesday when the letter from my dead brother came in the mail, sixteen years after his death.

[crayonshinchanloid]

Time for a serious post, since it has really been a while since I made one...

I just would like to get this off my chest. For those who are reading this, I just would like to say that this account is just used to promote my Vsynth cover content in Tumblr, hence, giving the impression that I am a bot, spamming random content when in reality, I just would like to promote my content in this website... I do not have any ill-intentions. Also, I would like to address my stupidity. As I am typing in a half-asleep behavior, I would like to admit that I am now the most hated creator in the vsynth community, especially in the UTAU community because of my behalf. Because I used my cousins' voice to make an UTAU and release them to the public. I closed my X account too, so there's no absolute way that you would find me there.

I decided to make UTAUs of the cousins because I felt like it was a trend that I wanted to follow. I got inspired by what Kam Adrian (a fellow vsynth cover artist) did by recording utaus of his friends and even his nephews and nieces. I shouldn't have namedropped the individual, but I did it anyways.

I bet that until now, the hate against me never stops. I mean, I am the one who dug a bigger hole on the incident. They say that I am creppy off-platform too. But let's be honest here, if you were to meet me irl, would you feel the same way? Would you still continued to pester me about that incident that I acknowledged was my reckless mistake?

But, thank goodness that I was still a minor when I made this catastrophic mistake. If I were to be older and I got myself into a situation like this, I WOULD BE IN A MUCH BIGGER TROUBLE. And the hate comments would be much worse, since it's expected for an older person (let's say around their mid 20s) to think more properly and make decisions that had been put a lot of thought in... For goddamn sake, give me a break. I am trying to make my YouTube channel a part-time/full-time career sooner or later as I finish high school and graduate onto college. Please spare me for once. I am serious.

Even after the incident, I still make covers featuring Elijahloid and Timothyloid, to still liven up the atmosphere in my channel. You're thinking right now. What I'm doing is disgusting, right? Guess what? It's your goddamn opinion! I never cared about what those X users would say about me. I don't have anything to do with them anymore. Just in case mass reporting occurs to terminate my channel because of the upbringing of the incident, I would just accept my fate and create another channel... And the cycle repeats again. Once I become older, I'll be back to revisit the incident. This will be my goodbye post, just in case the time will come.

[heartz4tob]

25/08/24 23:59

i made the decision to stop caring so much about you. gosh how stupid i was for pouring my heart out to God about you when i didn't cross yours once. i'm gonna say this one more time. i have deleted all evidence of you in my camera roll, i cut off the long hair that i treasured that i thought you would've liked, i blocked all your friends and the reminders of you that would be an obstacle in this journey. but one last time i want to recap on everything since i've fallen for you:

the moment i saw you in whoever's post i knew i would fall head over heels for you. you stood out to everyone in that photo and i was determined to know who you were. once i found out your name through stalking everyone you knew, i became obsessed well not until after qasim. i fell in love with the idea of you knowing nothing about your life other than the basic stuff.

i really wanted to know you toby. i wish you knew that. the day i followed you on instagram i didn't know if you'd follow back (i wish you didn't, this wouldn't have happened) when you did that's when all hell broke loose. and when i found out that you won poty award, i was so so proud of you. you will never know how proud i am of you toby. and when i found out you got an academic award for whatever you achieved i was beyond proud of you. i am your biggest and no.1 supporter.

but i was obsessed with getting your attention and getting you to notice me. i'd follow up on everything about you, i was desperate for your love. and when i found out you could've loved another i crashed out. i unfollowed you and wanted you out my mind in hopes that "out of sight, out of mind" would work. it didn't. it made me even more obsessed with you.

and when i saw you days after i tried removing you from my life, i was so kilig to the bone. the way you smiled and the way you looked under the sunlight made me melt. (no pun intended) like why did you have to look? i get it my mom honked the horn but you looked at me? ME? i actually wish your eyes never met mine.

i love you toby but im not letting you take over my mind, heart and life. you've brought me nothing but doubt and stress. you made me skitz out night after night making me change myself in ways so i could look appealing to you. i've prayed to God for 30 minutes just to get an answer. you will never know what i said. you made me believe there were good people in the world but at what cost? you made me happy and miserable all at once. how is that possible? i will never forget all the sadness you made me feel but if you ever need me my arms are wide open for you. i am not waiting for you anymore but my heart will continue to wish you Godspeed until we die. good luck with your basketball stuff and good luck in the next academic year.

and this is not my position to say but if you ever feel bad about yourself please consider my thoughts. if you saw yourself through my rose tinted glasses you'd never have a bad thought of yourself again. no matter how much people tell me, i think you're perfect in my eyes. God made you with so much love and care that i can practically see Jesus Christ through you. you're beautiful and you'll never hear me say that. (Solomon 4:7)

i wish nothing but the best for you. and one day i hope you find a woman of God who treats you perfectly. a proverbs 31 woman. i pray that she builds you to become an ecclesiastes 5 man. im so sorry but ive had enough. i've had enough of all the doubt and sadness loving you brought to me. although this whole thing put me through some tough stuff in not going to be a liar and say it was a waste. i enjoyed my little fancy for you even if it meant tears being shed. i mean hey, that's life. loving you made me realize that love can be silent and that i can love someone without knowing them properly and with no words exchanged. you made me believe that i do indeed hold love in my heart and it isn't all just bad in the world.

i truly believed it was you and me. and if my prayers are answered and we are in Gods plan i hope when we meet again in the future that we make it, and i intend on waiting forever if that's the case. (Genesis 29:20). cause gosh i wanted it to be you so bad. but if it's not you then that's okay and i'll learn to be okay with it. and to be honest i really do not see myself loving someone that's not you, i hoped it was you from the beginning. and i pray if it's not you and me in this lifetime that it's you and me in the next one. "sa susunod na habang buhay" is associated with your name in my heart.

but if you did reciprocate the love i have for you, i'd be the best you'll ever have. the love i have for you is unhealthy at this point. and in all honesty i was more pulled in by the idea of loving you than building my relationship with God first. i'd be as loyal as a dog to you. you could break my heart 1 million times and i would still rather that over giving it to someone else. gosh toby i love you so much. the love that i have for you in my heart needed more space so i planted the love i have for you in things i loved too. i envied anything you loved knowing ill never be those things. inanimate or not. how crazy do i sound right now?

you looked like a prayer i made to God about my future husband and i was gutted realizing that you may not be that. i know deep down that you're a good guy toby. don't let that potential go to waste and please don't be consumed by the bad people around you. keep your dreams alive and i just pray and i pray so hard that you end up succeeding in what you aspire to do. if you can't be with me i pray you be with God. build that relationship between you and Jesus. keep going. i'm here on the sidelines rooting for you.

please, if you feel like the world is mean to you, run to me. call out for me and i'll be there for you. i'm an idiot for you.

this whole account made me realize how deluded i am. and i don't think i can go like this for longer before i actually go skitzo, and, for the last time,

i love you toby. goodbye. 💗