#goldfish shaming

[omatoxin]

- by omatoxin

[oasisofgalaxies]

Well. Better late than never

[fourteen--steps]

Lil baby criminal man all growed up and pretty

[rossithepixie]

Local goldfish splashes water at keeper for being late with dinner

[gay-dorito-dust]

Felix Catton x reader where he invites reader to Saltburn and he confesses his love to her. Super fluffy 🫶🏻😩

This was long as shit! But I hope you like it! 🦦

You honestly thought Felix was taking the piss upon extending you an invitation to spend the summer at Saltburn. You even waited for Farleigh to come out of nowhere to make his usual passive aggressive commentary in regard to your seemingly gullible nature, but nothing.

No Farleigh.

None of Felix’s little posse of posh cunts were nearby to poorly conceal their laugher behind their hands.

It was just you and Felix sat upon a stone bench somewhere, to which you must’ve looking like an right idiot, with your mouth opening and closing like an goldfish in disbelief at what you were hearing. ‘So what do you say?’ Felix asked after a prolonged period of awkward silence, looking as though a little on the verge of imploding at any given moment.

You blinked once, twice, then a third time for good measure before clearing your throat. ‘Yeah, sure…I’d love to but why me-‘ your sentence was cut off when Felix let out a relieved sigh as his mouth stretched into a smile, revealing his pearly whites, also as though he was…happy that you had accepted his invite; A reaction that naturally caused you to become curious as to figure out the reason why.

‘Oh thank fuck, you almost had me second guessing that you weren’t going to come.’ He said, looking at you with eyes that seemed to be reading your entire being, reading your each and every breath with such attention; so much that you swore it was as akin to that of a creator admiring his first creation. You -much like everyone else at Oxford- were very familiar with the stories that came with the supposed friends Felix had taken to Saltburn; they go to Saltburn, things seemingly get weird and the friendship is tarnished, then by summer’s end Felix next speaks with them again.

Used and discarded within the same breath.

You soon came to the conclusion that you didn’t want to be the next discarded toy on Felix’s long list of broken things. It would’ve been better had Felix kept his distance and stayed with his little posse, but he didn’t and now you were riddled with the endless possibilities that laid ahead of you. ‘Would’ve been a real shame if I did.’ You said, hyper aware of the fact that Felix was still staring intently at you. ‘But I’m glad you didn’t.’ He says softly, taking one last puff of his cigarette before its dying embers dwindled down to the bud, tossing it aside carelessly once it’s use has been served.

‘So am I.’ You replied, looking away from him and elsewhere as you pondered to yourself what you had gotten yourself into and what terrors would await for you at Saltburn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your first couple of days at Saltburn were okay to say the least.

Well that was mostly because Felix insisted that you’d spend the most of it together. So no matter where it was that you went through the manor, Felix was never far behind, looking over you like a protective shadow.

The pool? a shirtless Felix was sat poolside with a cigarette handing loosely from his lips, reflective shades concealing his dark eyes that you could feel shamelessly drinking you in as you dipped a toe.

The living room? Felix was there with a selection of movies and snacks that he retrieved from the kitchen along with comfy blankets.

The library? Felix was there reading a book that went over the treatment of women in Greek myths.

Bathroom? Felix was also there because upon giving you a grand tour of the intimidating building, he had informed you that you were to share a bathroom, instead of having you journey to the other side of the house to occupy another one.

You even remembered one time where you were deeply engaged in a topic with the likes of Farleigh and Venetia about Felix’s recent attitude towards you, with you being in denial and Farleigh and Venetia trying to make you see reason; When Felix came into the room as though looking for something, and upon seeing the three of you together, his jaw began to clench. It wasn’t until that very moment did you begin to take note of how Felix’s reluctance in having to share you with anyone else, and how it was staring to look something similar to a stubborn child who refused to share what he thought rightfully belonged to him.

‘Told you.’ Farleigh said with a winning smirk after Felix left the room in a huff. ‘He doesn’t want to share you with the rest of us, he only wants you for himself…and in more ways than one.’ He adds on, obviously knowing something that you didn’t.

‘What do you mean by that Farleigh?’ You had tried to ask but all he did was shrug nonchalantly and cryptically said, ‘you’ll see soon enough.’

You guessed you understood where Felix was coming from, I mean you did come here because of him, so naturally you were meant to be spending most of your time with him. However with what Farleigh had said earlier, you couldn’t help but theorise that there was a much deeper reasoning for Felix to have invited you to Saltburn; A theory that would later be put to the test when you were getting ready to go to bed, pulling back the covers just enough for you to slip in with ease, when a knocking at your door caught your ear.

‘Y/n. You in there? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something recently and it couldn’t wait any longer.’ It was Felix. Your brows furrowed at this, what could he possibly want to talk about in the middle of the night?

As to not keep him waiting any longe then he might’ve been before knocking on your door. You quickly made your way to the door -though not before making sure you looked presentable- and opened it to see Felix stood in your doorway in his sleepwear, which consisted of a short sleeve shirt and a pair of blueish gray boxers, as his dark hair looked ruffled as though he had just been vigorously running his hands through it just minutes prior.

Either way he still looked extraordinarily appealing to the eye. However that was just how Felix looked to near enough everyone; extraordinarily delectable.

‘What conversation could possibly be so hard for you to not wait until tomorrow to have?’ You asked, brows raised, wanting nothing more than to put an end to all the mental gymnastics you’ve put yourself through within the past couple days; It got exhaustive after a while and his childish antics of giving you the cold shoulder didn’t make matters any better.

‘Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a dick to you recently.’ Felix began.

‘A bit?’ You echoed, slightly annoyed. ‘Felix you wouldn’t even look at me when I went to the pool, which if I remember correctly,’ you placed a finger on your chin, faking a face of deep thought before clicking your fingers and leaning in towards him, ‘you invited me to earlier that same day.’ You concluded dryly. ‘So how about you explain that before whatever you wanted to talk about, just so I’m given more of a clear picture as to where we stand.’

‘Fuck. I fucked up.’ Felix sighed under his breath as he ran his hand down his face, his dark eyes peering down the elongated hallway in hopes that no one -Farleigh- would come out and see what was all the commotion about, before they returned to look into yours and decided to just skip the words he was planning on telling you and just get straight to the point; long winded speeches of love was never his thing when he could just be straightforward about it. After all he was Felix fucking Catton, but it seemed that just being in your presence was enough to leave him a little speechless.

‘I like you.’ He began but immeditly felt that like wasn’t the right word to use when putting into words of what you did to him. ‘No, that don’t sound right because at the end of the day y/n, I fucking love you.’ Felix corrects himself and you immeditly felt the anything that you wanted to say to him exit your brain, as his sudden declaration took its place as the only thing that you could clearly focus on. ‘I brought you to Saltburn in hopes that one day I would stop being such a pussy and tell you how I truly felt.’ Felix then looked saddened as he continued. ‘Yet it seems that the only thing I’ve managed to accomplish is pushing you away because I thought that you wouldn’t want me like that, and would try to drive that home by spending time with Farleigh and Venetia.’ By the time Felix had finished pouring his heart out to you, everything leading up to this very moment started making a lot more sense, even Farleigh’s cryptic response made sense.

This entire time Felix was planning on confessing and Farleigh knew, which meant Venetia must’ve knew and therefore his parents considering how upon meeting them, they seemingly knew everything about you in incredible detail. You knew Felix was a bit of a blabber mouth under certain circumstances, but you didn’t ever think that he would ever rant to his parents about you in the slightest and in a positive light too. Though it did feel a little odd at first when Elspeth complimented your eyes but now you knew why and you couldn’t help but be flattered; Felix is a handsome and beautiful man that to be viewed within the same perspective was a new feeling entirely.

‘Really?’ You asked, biting the inside of your cheek, praying this wasn’t an extremely realistic dream.

‘Really.’ Felix replied without hesitation, beaming as he brazenly took a step towards you.

‘You’re not fucking with me?’ You asked again, still somehow not finding any of this remotely real, now bitting down on your bottom lip this time.

Felix stepped even closer to you now that you could feel his body heat, his hand gently holding you by the chin as his thumb gingerly pried your bottom lip from your teeth before then moving his head so that it was resting against your own, forcing you to focus on the dark pair of eyes that looked right back at you in a way that one would a masterpiece. ‘I’m not fucking with you.’ He spoke in a low but soft tone of voice. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful and the most amazing person I have ever met. You’re genuine, you’re kind but most importantly, you’re real and I both envy and adore you for that.’ Felix finishes and you couldn’t help but groan with impatience.

‘You could’ve conveyed all that if you would’ve kissed me.’ You whined, hands finding their home within his hair, raking and slightly tugging at the tresses, making him laugh. ‘As you wish.’ He utters cheekily as he then descends his lips upon yours in a passionate kiss that conveyed everything that had been said and more.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

By some fantastical turn of events, it turns out that my daughter and I have the same favorite author. She's three. I'm mumblethirtysomethingmumble. She might even be a bigger fan than me.

(it's vastly important to note the shame is not from the age but because i keep losing count and so I'm considering just keeping track in decades from now on)

So, first let me say that it was a happy coincidence that the author of one of my favorite books as an adolescent (Coraline) turned out to be the author (one of the authors anyway) of one of my favorite books as an adult. I presume you can guess based on *gestures wildly at profile*.

But it was an entirely different not-coincidence-but-still-a-surprise situation that transpired whereupon this author became my daughter's favorite author.

I was perusing G - GAIMAN for some other books I'd been interested in reading to her -- the one about wolves and the other one about goldfish -- when I happened upon Pirate Stew. I bought it, and it looked like fun. I had no idea.

Now, children's books are my kryptonite. I can get by myself on digital purchases and the library, but my child? Absolutely not, I CANNOT say no to buying her books. It's literally -- no matter what my bank account claims -- impossible to pass up a book if I think she'll like it.

Nonetheless, she's three. She never remains on any one book for any particular length of time, even though she enjoys them and already uses them during parties to avoid eye contact and conversation with strangers. She takes after me, see.

But this book? She is absolutely ENAMORED with it. We went to a play place thing where they had a massive boat to play on and she ran around yelling about pirate stew with her mud pies. It's ALWAYS her one of two books she reads for bedtime. If it's not in her rotation of books, she'll ask for it specifically. More importantly, it's the only book she's loved enough to pretend to read to me, for the first time in her young little life.

I don't know what I'm trying to say here, I guess thanks @neil-gaiman for making the joy of reading accessible to all ages. Here's to many more years of reading -- and maybe someday she'll start writing, too. She's very fond of art, in all its forms, so no matter what I think she'll be inspired to partake in the creative process.

[thisismeracing]

Charlieverse | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 2.1k ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol and Halloween costumes (clowns, werewolves, and others).  ― Summary: When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

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There are many sayings about how sharing is caring, and how life feels bigger and better when you do so.

Charles knew this all too well.

He was used to sharing everything with you since he was a kid.

It all started after you forgot your snack at home. He was only five years old then, but he had two brothers so he knew exactly what to do. Little Charles offered to share his bag of colored goldfish and grapes with you. The next day you shared your coloring pencils with him. It started with simple things, and it grew as you both grew older. All through the school years, Charles and you were inseparable, even with his crazy racing schedule. You would take notes for him, he would bring you stories, and you would study together until late hours. You shared your fears, deepest feelings, and even the shame of being underdressed when invited to a party such as now.

“I had no idea people would go this hard,” you state, watching as the Taxi driver came to a halt in front of the big doors. Gathered in front of the mansion were people dressed as all kinds of gore Halloween beings, some of the makeup seeming too real to your liking.

“We can go back home and change if you want,” there’s Charles' tranquil voice. He is always the one to keep his patience even if the world is ending, and you love that about him.

You shake your head, “We would never find something else in time, plus, we’re together, so… here’s to another good story,” you point to your matching costumes, and Charles smiles.

You’re both wearing Spiderman costumes. Though it felt like the best choice, the easiest one, you should have guessed it was too easy and, therefore, not ideal.

Charles gives you one last wink before putting on his mask. You do the same just as he opens the door for you, and hand in hand you walk through the crowd into the house. You cling to your best friend’s arm trying to stay as far away as possible from some of the costumes.

“You sure you’re ok over there?” Charles asks when you’re halfway to the kitchen, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

You nod, “Yeah, just.. That werewolf costume seems too realistic.” And there’s no need for you to explain to him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand, his favorite track, his most played song. Charles knows that someone planted a seed of fear about some creatures when you were little, and some of the stories have stayed with you even after you grew. It is a bit curious how despite your fears, you still love Halloween, at least the kind of parties you go to where people will dress in a way that clearly shows that they are human beings and meant no harm.

Were you supposed to guess that a certain crazy clown costume was a mere costume after seeing people being killed by those?

You wouldn’t stay to answer that question.

When you finally reach the kitchen, both of you take off the mask to your friends, hugging and making your rounds. Charles grabs you two a drink and you choose to stay there instead of mingling and risking bumping into scary figures.

“Can you get me another of these?” You mouth to Charles pointing at your empty cup. From across the kitchen, he nods, and a few seconds later he’s in front of you with a full cup.

“They were out of ice, is it ok if we share this one?” he asks over the music and you nod. You’re sitting on the counter, and when Charles turns to your friends he stands right between your legs. One of your hands goes to his shoulders, and you keep talking about your costume as if your heart weren’t hammering inside your ribcage, almost coming out from your throat the second his hand finds your knee, holding it so your anxious bounce can cease.

You gulp trying to keep your attention on whatever your friend is talking about because all your mind can focus on is your best friend’s hand on you, his body radiating warmth into yours. And not that it is unusual for Charles to touch it, quite the opposite, he loves to hug and kiss those he cares about, but it’s just lately your heart seemed to wish for a different kind of sharing.

It wants to share the secret touches. It wants to claim hungry kisses, tears of happiness, loud silences, and whispered mysteries. It is as if your heart created a reality where you had all of this with Charles.

Your own Charlie-verse.

The party keeps going in full swing, and Charles never leaves your side for over thirty minutes. He comes and goes always checking if you’re ok and if you want to go with him, but you choose the safety of the counter and your crowd of friends. The conversation is good, and so is the booze, from the kitchen you can see a bit of the living room and the pool area through the glass doors.

And it’s only when part of the girls decide to go dancing that you hop off the counter, and grab Charles’ hands following him in the direction of another crowd of friends. You’re tipsy enough to lace your fingers with his and to tighten your grip when you pass people dressed as clowns, werewolves, and with fake open wounds.

You end up in the pool area in front of Charles, he holds your body protectively against his, while his other hand has a cup you’re still sharing. The conversation is between the group, but every once in a while something will catch his attention and he’ll whisper about it in your ear, to which you’ll slightly turn your head, chuckle, and then answer him.

Though you felt a bit out of place at first with how everyone’s costumes seemed so extra compared to yours, you and Charles have had a lot of fun. So much so that you have given up going back home and decided to share a cab to his apartment.

Half of the ride a tipsy Charles is lecturing you with his “I told you so” about how he suggested you slept at his place and you denied it before the party. You just rest your head on his shoulder and pretend you are listening to his non-stop rant.

As it happens, the driver seems a bit uninterested in Charles’ rant because he turns the music on, and the last song that starts playing when he makes the curve into Charles’ street is Michael Jackson. You shriek and start jumping on the car seat.

“Chérie, it’s late,” your best friend tries to reason, but you just giggle.

“You have soundproof walls.”

“But not windows,” he tries again, and you playfully roll your eyes before getting out of the car wishing the driver a good night.

“Annie, are you okay?” you start to sing as you reach the elevators, and Charles just fakes a sigh, holding you close by the waist.

“So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” you sing loudly until you reach the penthouse.

“Love, that’s not Smooth Criminal’s dance, that’s Thriller…” Charles holds back his laughter when you start a made-up choreography in his living room. “Oh mon dieu, you’re so precious.”

You giggle, smacking a loud kiss on his warm cheeks. While you make your track to the bathroom Charles goes to the kitchen.

“I’m using the guest bathroom! Go shower on the main one, you stinky!” you scream from the corridors and you hear his scoff, almost able to picture his eye roll.

You go through your shower on autopilot, brushing your teeth, and reaching for one of Charles’ shirts that are on the guest bedroom bed. Your visits have been so frequent you have everything you need there, but tonight you didn’t want one of your pajamas, you want to indulge in the daydream that your mind is harnessing.

When you reach your favorite Monegasque bedroom you can hear the shower still running, so you settle in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in your head, there’s still music playing and your body seems to have kept a bit of the buzzing from the party. The distant noises coming from the open windows, along with the wind hitting the curtains lull you into a soft slumber, that only goes away when a door closes, you guess it's his closet, you smell his body wash and shampoo before he steps close to you.

There’s too much happening inside your head, so you choose to stay in silence while your best friend watches you attentively, eyes finding yours in a beat.

Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t have much in his head. He only has you. Your smell, your laugh, your voice, your body on his bed wearing his shirt.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” his mouth works faster than his brain does, and just like that you’re staring at him in confusion.

It’s like his brain is shortcircuited.

Charles gets up from the bed.

He walks to the door, then turns around and comes back to your side. There’s a crease between his brows and you have known him long enough to identify it as worry.

“Sharls, what’s going on?”

“I’m not drunk ok? Before you say anything, I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy like you,” he starts and you nod from your spot on the bed. “I am so sorry, but I have to tell you this, and I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to take this out of my chest, Yn.”

Sensing how serious the situation is you sit up, legs crossed one over the other, hands tucked under them.

“I- uhm… See- It’s like this, I-”

“Charles,” you call.

“I’m in love with you,” he spills in a single sentence, but then he keeps going. “I love you so fucking much it’s starting to hurt the fact that I’ve been keeping it from you. And I don’t even know when it started, but I’m so used to sharing everything with you, I just.. I wanted us to share more. I wanted to share my bed with you, and my clothes, and-” he points with his fingers before you could say something, “And I know we already share those things, but I want to do it differently. I want to share romantically. I want to share my heart with you, Chérie, all of it. But I’ll understand if you’re confused or overwhelmed by my outburst, in fact… shit… I should have waited in case you wanted to go home right? Please, tell me that if you don’t feel the same you’ll at least get the farthest guest bedroom, I promise I won’t bother you, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen in the morning and I-”

“No,” you interrupt.

“Pardon?”

“I said no, I won’t sleep in the farthest guest bedroom.”

“Oh- then let me drive you, just…– fuck I can’t I drank… uhm I’ll–”

“No, Charles, stop,” you get on your knees on the mattress and reach for his arm, bringing his body close to yours.

“No, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom because we’re sharing a bed tonight. No, I’m not mad about your admission, I’m sharing my heart with you too. Romantically,” you confess.

His shoulders drop in relief, and you giggle, threading your fingers on his soft strands. Charles mutters something you can’t understand because you’re too focused on how his face seems different from this angle, after all the confessed words. He’s still your Charles, but he’s also a new Charles, and this knowledge brings a new feeling to your heart and stomach.

When his lips find yours, soft and warm, a contrast with his cold hands on your jaw and waist, he presses your bodies closer and hums in pleasure. You smile, unable to contain your happiness. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, and when the air has made itself scarce, you part the kiss, foreheads still touching.

“So, Charlie, are you okay? Are you okay, Charlie?”

Charles throws his head back and laughs.

He knows how insufferable you could get once a song gets stuck in your head.

“I was struck down. You’re such a smooth criminal, Chérie. Stealing hearts around so easily.”

It is your turn to laugh.

“That was cheesy, but I loved it,” you mumble before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked the piece, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia on Tumblr) for proof and beta-reading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this piece *mwah*.  

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[teamatsumu]

was i meant to love you? (last part)

pairing: miya osamu x reader

summary: the kanji on your arm says miya atsumu’s name. but every fiber of your being is in love with his twin brother.

word count: 1501

warnings: swearing, some angst, happy ending

tags: @hadukada @utopiamiroh @angstylittleb1tch @sassycheesecake @i-have-no-life-charlie @tsukiran-blog @mommyourcall420 @ak-aaa-li @ti-mame @ellesalazar @seijaelee @hiraethwa

a/n: this is so late im so sorry writers block is a little bitch but omg this is the last part! I hope you all like it xx

previous part // series masterlist

The living room was hardly silent, between the sitcom playing on TV and Atsumu’s incredibly loud chewing, but it still felt like the air was thick and still around you. You were sure it was just you, and not Atsumu who felt this way. It likely had to do with your apprehension, trying to prepare yourself for the topic at hand. You remembered Osamu’s words, drawing confidence from his encouragement. You tried to revise in your head how to approach this, but your bravery was failing you.

How the hell were you supposed to tell your soulmate that you weren’t in love with him?

Osamu’s platonic soulmates theory didn’t sound all too convincing to you, but hearing that it came from Kita did give you some confidence. You were sure Kita would never put forth an idea that he didn’t consider to have merit. So maybe there was some weight to his words. You were still on the fence though. It all depended on what Atsumu had to say about it.

Speaking of, you watched Atsumu slurp down his ramen like it was his last meal on earth, and you could empathize with him. His routine was grueling. A lot went into being a pro athlete, much more than you could have anticipated. You almost felt bad for springing this on him after a tiring day when he was trying to wind down. But you didn’t exactly have any other opportunity for it.

You cleared your throat and shifted in place, turning so you were facing Atsumu instead of the TV. He turned to look at you, slurping up a noodle dangling from his mouth before licking his lips and giving you a look.

“I need to talk to you about something.” You fidgeted with your fingers, unable to look him in the eye. Atsumu seemed to freeze, leaning forward to place his bowl on the coffee table before facing you and giving you his full attention. Somehow that made it harder for you to get the words out. Your mouth opened and closed like a dumb goldfish. Several moments passed.

Atsumu’s hand landed on top of your own, halting the nervous movements of your fingers. You closed your eyes, feeling a sudden wave of shame wash over you.

“Just say it.” He spoke gently, as if understanding the turmoil going on in your head. You looked up at him, at the calming brown of his eyes and the soft curl of his mouth, and you felt yourself tear up.

“You don’t deserve this.” You breathed, shaking your head. “I can’t do this to you. I’m a horrible person.”

His lip ticked up in a little smile. “Ya gotta give me more than that, babe. I have no idea what yer talkin’ about.”

“I don’t-” You felt the words pour out of you like vomit. “I don’t think I love you. Not like I should. And it’s tearing me apart because I care for you so much and Osamu told me about this thing called platonic soulmates which sounds like bullshit, I know, but it explains the way I’m feeling! But sometimes I just feel like I’m a bad person and this is my way of justifying it-”

“Wait-”

“And I do love you. So much Tsumu, you’re my closest friend and you understand me so well but I don’t feel it romantically at all, which is so fucked up-”

“Hey!” You stopped short, staring at the man before you with teary eyes. You expected him to look horrified. Maybe confused. Definitely hurt. But all you saw was amusement.

“Ya gotta cool it.” He grinned, running a hand through your hair while the other squeezed yours comfortingly.

“S-sorry.” You choked out, sniffling a bit.

Atsumu sighed, staring down at your joined hands. The moment was silent except your wet sniffles, and the very low volume of the TV playing in the background. You watched as Atsumu smiled a bit.

“I’m relieved.” He spoke up, and you blinked at his words. “I always thought I was a fuckin’ asshole, ya know? ‘Cause yer so beautiful and a great person. But kissing ya was kinda painful.”

You gasped. “Hey!”

“Yer telling me the thought of layin’ a smooch on me didn’t make ya wanna barf?” Atsumu retaliated, and you fell silent, still sneering. He chuckled a bit, shaking his head.

“What did ya say it was called?”

“Platonic soulmates.”

Atsumu hummed. “Makes sense. Yer my best friend.”

You smiled at that, squeezing his hand. “And you’re mine.”

When he opened his arms, you fell into them, reveling in his embrace. Somehow, it felt ten times better than any time you had hugged him. You figured it had to do with the fact that your chronic guilt was not bothering you anymore. You buried your face in Atsumu’s neck.

“I love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

A bout of silence.

“But not like that.”

You let out a laugh. “I get it, Tsumu.”

“Just wanted ta make it clear.”

“Shut up.”

And he did. You smiled and settled into him, feeling lighter than you had in years.

……………………

When Osamu saw the look on Atsumu’s face, he immediately froze. He knew, in that instant, that you had talked to his brother. He just knew Atsumu too well to not know any change in his demeanor. And his demeanor had definitely changed. Except it wasn’t the change he was expecting.

Atsumu looked more relaxed. Happier, even? Maybe that was going too far. But then his twin was grinning up at him and settling into a stool in front of the counter, and Osamu could no longer ignore the spring in his step.

“What’s got ya so preppy?” He tested, trying not to build up his hope. Atsumu grinned.

“I just got answers ta some really old questions.” He replied, and Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“Wanna tell me what yer talkin’ about?”

And Atsumu did, sounding jovial, and with a light tone. Osamu stayed rock still as he spoke, unable to believe that Atsumu too had felt this way his whole life. He was almost shocked that he had missed such a huge part of his brother’s feelings, but it was overshadowed by the kindling of hope in his chest at the prospect that he could actually be with the girl he loved.

So when Atsumu had stopped talking, and Osamu had served him a plate of fresh Onigiri, he worked up the courage to drop another bomb on his twin. One that was arguably worse than the Platonic Soulmates one.

“Tsumu,” he began. “What do ya think about her datin’…. someone else?”

“Hm?” Atsumu looked up at his brother. “Why? She like someone?”

Osamu nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He finally let the words leave his mouth.

“M-me.”

Atsumu stopped eating then, eyes meeting Osamu’s. Osamu felt like he was holding his breath, heart racing.

“I like her too. Uh, it’s- I’ve liked her for a while. Didn’t do anythin’ for obvious reasons, ya know.”

Atsumu sighed, turning back to his plate. He bit into another rice ball.

“What is this? Kimchi mayo? It’s real good.”

Osamu blinked, trying to fight off his incredulity in favor of staring down his brother.

“Are ya for real?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Samu, ‘m not really shocked. It’s pretty obvious ya got a thing for her. And I don’t have anything with her at all, so if ya wanna date, go ahead.”

Then he gave Osamu a lopsided grin, and Osamu felt like everything in the universe had just fallen into place.

“Ya better not break her heart though. She’s still my soulmate.”

Osamu’s smile was genuine. His relief was immense. He felt almost stupid with joy at that point. And he realized he gave Atsumu far less credit than his due. His brother had just stumped him completely, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“I won’t.”

………………….

Your and Osamu’s first kiss wasn’t anything to write home about. It was at a train station, rushed and messy, so quick that you almost didn’t feel it. It was immediately followed by a feeling of regret, panic and guilt. Something you both wanted so bad, but couldn’t have. So forbidden that it broke your heart into pieces.

Your second kiss was the exact opposite in every single way. Everything that had broken your heart seemed to mend now. Heart and stomachs both full after the wonderful date you had just been on, when Osamu finally leaned down to press his lips on yours. It felt like every fiber of your body had been pulled taut and then released, and your hands felt shaky as you finally allowed them to run over his body. His own grip was worryingly tight, arms enveloping you completely, not that you minded. You reveled in the feeling of his mouth, hoping you never stopped kissing him. Hoping he never let you go.

The kiss did end. But he never let you go.

[sammysficfactory]

JJK men’s reaction to you calling them a whore/slut

characters: nanami, gojo, geto, and toji

notes: if you want me to go more in depth for a character lmk!

Nanami Kento

oh em gee

he is SHOCKED

have you no shame? no decorum?

“You look like a whore when you wear your suit without a blazer.” you deadpanned.

“Excuse me?” Nanami is thoroughly confused, hoping he didn’t hear you correctly. But he did. And who could blame you?

“You heard what I said.” You shrug.

he would never admit it, but he liked it

the way you said it so outright threw him for a LOOP honey

if he were a rich woman he’d be clutching his pearls

“Don’t say it like that. Just say you think it’s nice and move on like normal people do.” Nanami rolls his eyes at you. If you looked close enough you could see a light pink dusting the tips of his ears.

you laugh at him for being flustered

but you’re a good person so you suppress it a little bit

as you call him a whore more often he gets used to it

don’t get me wrong, it still flusters the hell out of him

but he’s accepted it as part of your relationship dynamic

Satoru Gojo

i can’t even lie to you

gojo would like it

“You look like a slut in that outfit.” You say in a nonchalant fashion. Gojo smirks.

“Do I look like a slut? Or do you see something you like.” he leans forward to you, the proximity of your faces distressingly close.

if you thought his ego was big then

i can promise you it’s 10x bigger now

“You want me so bad.” Gojo laughs smugly. You scoff.

“You wish.”

the truth is you DID want him

he was in that black tee and wearing sweats😩

I CANT BLAME YOU

despite the two of you being in a relationship gojo loved to tease you like you were still single

gojo probably bites his finger every time he thinks about the first time you called him a slut

every few weeks he texts you ‘remember that time you wanted me so bad that you said i looked like a slut? i do🤭’

he be swinging his feet back and forth as he types it out

Geto Suguru

if he’s nothing else, he’s definitely gojo’s friend

he’s a good sport about it

“You look like a whore when your hair is in a bun.” Geto does a double take.

“I- what?” He’s confused. One moment you were sitting in a peaceful silence with your boyfriend, and the next you’re calling him a slut?

very confused about the train of thought you took to get to that conclusion

but after a few times he gets used to it

and his replies are definitely something

“You look like a slut in those glasses.” you say flatly. Geto sighs,

“Come slut me out then.” he says, leaning back and spreading his legs slightly on the couch.

when you hear him say it for the first time you almost caught whiplash

you for the first time in the entirety of your relationship, were at a loss for words

it was BAD

you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish bc you couldn’t find anything to say

you in fact do slut him out once you gather yourself

he’s smug asf for the next week

Toji Fushiguro

he’s shocked too

but his reaction was a lot different

“Toji, you look really slutty in that outfit.” You eye him up and down.

“Bitch?” he quickly apologizes for his knee-jerk reaction.

“Watch that bitch word, Toji! Deadass.” You narrow your eyes at him. He already knew how you felt about that word.

he saw his life flash before his eyes when he said ‘bitch’

he’s super smug too

he isn’t as bad as gojo or geto though

it becomes a running inside joke between the two of you

toji would do shit like send photos of his outfit and say ‘feeling extra slutty today’

and it might make you chuckle a little when he sends them

“You’re not going to the market with me looking like a whore Toji, go change.” you joked.

“Wow, are you slut shaming me right now? I thought you were a feminist.” He accuses you in fake shock.

“I’m getting women’s lick back.” you justify yourself.

does it sound kinda weird to other people? yes

but did you care is the real question

the answer is no

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

♡︎𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚♡︎

Day 24 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: Izuku has a mommy kink, after hiding it for a while, and he lets it slip out.

603 words.

You could always tell that Izuku had a special interest in your breasts. He was always staring.

He would stare at the curve of your tits and the valley between them when you wore v-necks, and his gaze would linger when he saw you in only a bra. Not to mention how he would fondle and squeeze them almost painfully when you made out.

What you didn't realise, however, is that this played a much bigger part in his... Special interest.

It all comes to light while the two of you are busy making out on the sofa of your unlit apartment, the dark settling over you like a blanket as your boyfriend's gentle hands trail their way up your shirt. You have no idea when it happened but, at some point during your relationship he somehow managed to acquire the skill of unclasping your bra one-handed.

So the two of you end up tangled with one another as his palms warm your breasts under your sweater, the pooling arousal between your thighs forcing you into a near constant state of fidgeting, your knees rubbing together in a fruitless attempt for friction.

Meanwhile, Izuku ruts against your hip slowly, leaving a trail of kisses and bites across your neck and collar bones, and the only reason he stops there is because of your inconvenient clothes, blocking him from showing you all the love he has to give.

Sensing his frustrations you wiggle beneath him to take off your sweater and shirt in such an awkward position, but you don't mind. You'd do any form of acrobatics for your adorable boyfriend (he'd like it too).

But, you're caught off guard by the words that next come from him. They ring clearly through your mind, despite how breathy and hesitant they are.

"C-can I-...? Can I suck on them?..."

Uh.

Why not?

You have to take a moment to get over your shock but when you think on it just a little more, it's always been obvious that he would like this sort of thing. Why were you even surprised? With an amused but kind and awefully inviting smile, he thinks, you allow him to press soft lips against the bud of your breast, his tongue tracing around the pebbled nipple with a passion evident in his little moans.

His hair is soft and fluffy as you grab a handful at the back of his head, tugging slightly only to then start to massage the base of his scalp, pressing gentle fingertips into pleasure spots he didn't even know existed.

Your bottom lip is bitten and red, tugged between your teeth as you feel him fondle and squish at the most sensitive areas of your body, your underwear thoroughly ruined by now.

All is well and good, until you hear it slip from between his lips.

"Mnh- mommy-..."

Judging from the complete lack of reaction from the dazed greenete he probably doesn't even realise he spoke out loud, too focused on the moment to pay any attention to anything that's not you.

"oh? What was that, babe?"

He pauses, pulling himself from your chest slowly as he looks at you with mortification, a blush of shame running over his face as his mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish. The poor thing is so embarrassed, and you just can't help but want to make him feel better.

"no, no- it's okay... You can call me whatever you'd like, baby"

He's just stepped into paradise, and the look on his face as he presses his lips to yours once more sets a fire in your belly.

© 2022 not-your-fucking-kacchan

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

[starboyshoyo]

Kiss the Girl

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x reader (ft. Floyd Leech)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff, humor

Word Count: 1.5k

Housewarden Riddle Rosehearts is trying to enjoy a date with is crush on a Saturday- but a certain slippery Leech has to ruin- or help- it with a song.

Loosely based on the song “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid!

There you see her, sitting there across the way She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her And you don't know why, but you're dying to try You wanna kiss the girl

+++

In no way did Heartslabyul Dormwarden Riddle Rosehearts ever anticipate that he would be here in Mostro Lounge, sitting across from the one person who could make his face go as red as the roses and get away with their head intact. 

Of course, there was no way for you to know the kind of effect you had on him. You are Night Raven College’s only female student and loved by all- polite, sweet, and always ready to lend a helping hand. The kind of girl that Riddle could- and did- fall head over heels for. Who was he to turn you down when you asked him to accompany you on a date on the weekend? You deserve the best in the world. And naturally, that meant him. (Well, he hopes he can be the best. At least for you).

And so now he finds himself, stiff posture and all, seated at a table with you under ambient blue lights, trying not to explode. 

+++

Yes, you want her Look at her, you know you do Possible she wants you too There is one way to ask her It don't take a word, not a single word Go on and kiss the girl

+++

He watches you shyly from across the wooden plane of the table, so close yet so far. Your knees are brushing his under the tabletop and you’re absentmindedly watching luminescent fish drift by the window. Typical Prefect, zoning out at the most inopportune moments- there must be a rule against inattentiveness in the presence of the Queen! He should have your head for that, but… he’d rather just have you.

You’re tapping a hand on the tabletop in a makeshift percussion beat. What song are you listening to in that mind of yours? He wants to reach across the distance, to take your hand like the gentleman he is, and enjoy this moment with you under the sea. But then a voice begins to hum in his ear, too soft for anyone else to pick up. The tune is familiar, a playful little love song that was often cycled through radios in the dorm’s lounge. It’s called Kiss the Girl, Riddle realizes, shoulders stiffening even more and heat rushing to his cheeks. But then- wait a minute, who’s murmuring such a scandalous thing in his ears? 

+++

Sha-la-la-la-la-la My oh my, look like the boy too shy- Ain't gonna kiss the girl Sha-la-la-la-la-la Ain't that sad? Ain't it a shame? Too bad, he gonna miss the girl~

+++

Riddle whips around and locks gazes with the young man in the booth behind him. “Will you shut up?” Riddle hisses at Floyd Leech, a mixture of embarrassment and fury burning behind his cheeks. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to enjoy an outing with Ramshackle Dorm’s Prefect here. Your off-tune blathering is ruining the atmosphere.” 

One yellow and one green eye stare back at him, narrow with amusement. “What’s the matter, Goldfish?” Floyd teases softly. “I’m not doin’ anything illegal here, just enjoying my break hour with some food and a little song.” 

“You know very well what you’re doing,” Riddle snaps back, voice as low as he could get when scolding someone. 

He glances surreptitiously back at you, but you still don’t notice. You have your hand pressed against the glass now, giggling as a small red anchovy follows the movement of your finger. Turning away from Floyd, he clears his throat, lifting his head up and straightening his posture. 

“So, Prefect,” Riddle says, painfully aware of how formal he sounds. “Have you checked the results of the standard magical exams yet? The rankings were posted yesterday in the Main Hallway, in order of subjects- I ranked first in every one, naturally.” 

You turn towards him, abandoning the little red fish to its own devices. “That sounds great, Riddle,” you smile at him. He would give anything to see that smile directed at him every day. “It must have taken a lot of effort for you to- oh?”

The boy suddenly reaches across the table and places his hand on top of yours. He hopes- prays- that you won’t pull away, and you don’t. Instead, you take it in yours without hesitation, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. He can feel the pressure in him subsiding, being replaced by confidence every second he grasps your fingers in his. 

“It did,” he responds, ignoring the scoff from Floyd behind him. “But really, it’s no hassle at all. As dormwarden of Heartslabyul house, I need to set a good example for my peers. No Heartslabyul student has been held back since I took leadership- and I intend to keep it that way.” He finishes his speech proudly, puffing out his chest. 

Riddle sounds egotistical from the outside, but you know how much effort he puts into his studies. He’s simply talking about the thing he knows best, and you can’t begrudge him for that. “Very impressive,” you smile fondly at him, leaning forward on the table and propping yourself up with your free hand. “You really are a great leader.”

For once Riddle doesn’t care about how your elbows are on the table or how it’s not proper to be showing affection in public. He’s too busy staring at your lips. His face has gone red again as he realizes just how close you are to him. If he just leaned forward a bit he could-

“That’s enough about me!” He cuts himself off hastily. “What about you, Prefect? Tell me some more about yourself.” He nods towards the fish beyond the glass near your table. “You seem to enjoy aquatic life quite a lot.”

It’s oddly charming watching you ramble on about the fish here, speaking about the different species and even individual ones that you were particularly fond of, and have given names. A small smile begins to spread over his face, and he’s getting lost in your story- but every so often, his gaze is flickering back to your face, and your lips. And he’s all too aware of Floyd who has now moved on to softly singing the lyrics of that very same song in Riddle’s ear. 

+++

Now's your moment, floating in a blue lagoon Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better  She don't say a word, and she won't say a word Until you kiss the girl

+++

“I see you looking at her lips there,” he murmurs to the red-haired boy. “What’s the matter, little goldfish? Too much of a coward to kiss your girl?” 

“A real gentleman will let the lady finish speaking before he does such a thing,” Riddle shoots back, moving his lips as little as possible and keeping his eyes on you, though frustration is welling in his chest. “And besides, the Prefect is not in any dedicated relationship. She’s not ‘my girl.’” Yet, he adds silently in his head. “Don’t make such preposterous assumptions.”

“Well…” Floyd drawls back, “If she’s not yours then maybe I’ll take a splash at Shrimpy here, hm? Or I could relay the message to Crabby, that freshman from your dorm. I‘ve heard he’s got his eye on Prefect here, y’know~”

Out of the corner of his eye, Riddle sees Floyd start to rise from his booth, fixing his tie and shooting a grin at him. And Riddle would be damned if he let a slimy sea-slug or that insufferable troublemaker Trappola get to you before he could. He jerks forward, leaning across the table and presses his lips to yours, face as red as his hair. 

You snap your head up in surprise- and immediately bump your foreheads- “Ow!” 

You jerk backwards, and Riddle panics. “I’m sorry!” he scrambles forward. “I’m sorry- here, let me-” Tipping ice out of his glass of water and into a napkin, he presses it to your forehead gently. Apologizing over and over, he’s well aware he’s causing a scene. Students around you two are cupping their mouths with their hands, whispering among themselves. How embarrassing for the Heartslabyul dormwarden to be caught in such a flustered state. “Do you need anything else?” 

“I’m fine, Riddle,” you say, wincing. Riddle is dying inside, the red rising in his cheeks. He’s definitely ruined this date. He’s sure you’ll send him off, tell him to go back to Heartslabyul in shame- but to his surprise, you start laughing. 

“You can stop singing now, Floyd,” you tell the slippery second-year. “I think Mr. Dormwarden here has gotten the message.” 

That’s the last straw. “You could hear him the whole time?!” Riddle yelps. His voice squeaks at the end like a child’s, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s too busy covering his face with his hands, steam practically rising out of his ears. 

Planting another kiss on his cheek, you grin. “Of course I could hear him, dummy. I asked him to do that- how else would you have gotten the hint?”

“Glad you finally took the leap!” Floyd, leaning on a side table, puffs out a gleeful laugh. “I’ll leave you little fishies be! Brother is calling my name~”

Riddle really does puff up like a goldfish when he’s embarrassed. Cute.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[morallyinept]

Emotions are like rollercoasters, right?

Hold tight, D!

One moment you're enjoying the upward incline, feeling on top of the world. The next you're plummeting without any control, and it all happens so fast that-

I... D? You feeling alright, bud?

You didn't like it? Okay. No more rollercoasters for you. Yes, I promise. We'll just stick to the hall of mirrors next time...

It's okay, sweetie. Just heave it all up. It's alright... you're okay, D...

JESUS!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EAT?! 😨 Why is there a goldfish in there...?

You know what? I don't wanna know...✋🏻

Whilst Dieter, uh, pulls himself together, let's take a look this week at how we can recognise the oncoming signs of depression.

It's Friday!! It's time for more Self Care with Dieter & Jett. 🖤

Oh... Christ. Here we go. 😮‍💨🧻🧻🧻🧻

Everyone has ups and downs.

It's perfectly normal to feel out of step sometimes. And we all go through feeling low in our spirits at some point in our lives.

You do, don't you, D?

Yeah, and boy don't we know it... 😬

Often people use the term ‘depression’ to describe feeling down or low. But not everyone will have or experience depression.

And not everyone knows or understands what depression is fully, as everyone who experiences it, can feel differently and experience different types of it.

For some it may be fleeting, or even seasonal (Seasonal Affective Disorder, for example). For others it may render us mentally incapcitated for weeks, months, or even years on end.

Depression is a mental disorder of the brain, common, something that anyone can get at any time in their life and is treatable.

Depression isn’t something you can simply 'snap out of’, a sign of weakness, something that everyone experiences, or something that lasts forever.

You sometimes get the brain scramblies, don't you, D?

Yep. And so do I. It's perfectly normal to feel down and blue.

So, how do you know if what you're feeling is just a case of the blues, or the encroach into depression?

What are the symptoms of depression?

Some symptoms of depression are:

low mood, feeling sad, irritable, or angry

having less energy to do certain things

losing interest in activities you used to enjoy

reduced concentration

becoming tired more easily

disturbed sleep and losing your appetite

loss of self-confidence

feeling guilty or worthless

losing interest in sex

weight loss, or weight gain from comfort eating

thoughts and movements slowing down

☝🏻Now, it's important to note here, that you can feel some, or all of these things, from time to time and it doesn't mean it's necessarily signs of depression. It could mean you're just feeling out sorts and need a time out for a few days, a little rest.

Perhaps you've been burning the candle at both ends and it's your body telling you that you need to have a break...

Umm, yeah. 🤨

ℹ️ But if you've been experiencing these symptoms for longer than two weeks, most medical practitioners would recommend you take a trip to see your GP.

Especially if you've been experiencing any feelings of mania, or thoughts of self-harm or suicide.

Please remember that you're not alone. Even if it feels like it. There is help out there for you and you don't have to feel like this.

Your tum still feeling all squibbly, buddy?

Aww, you're worried about our friends? Bless your heart, D. You really are a sweetheart, aren't you? 😘

But it's okay, we'll put some links at the bottom of this post in case anyone needs some more help and support.

Breaking the stigma of depression

Many wrongly believe that people with a mental illness aren’t able to function in daily life, are incapable of making a living, lack interpersonal skills, or are unkempt. These are unfortunate, and often cruel, stereotypes placed on people by others who lack empathy, understanding, and knowledge about depression.

In many families, depression, and other mental illnesses, are looked upon as something shameful. People with depression are perceived as weak and told to “buck up” and “stop feeling sorry for yourself”.

Statements like this can ultimately shame and discourage people from seeking help. Depression is a medical condition.

Like the body, the brain can also get sick sometimes. 🧠 And you would need to treat your brain like you would your body, by getting help to mend it. 🩹

Steps to cope with stigma

Here are some ways you can deal with stigma:

Get help and treatment. You may be reluctant to admit you need any treatment. Don't let the fear of being labeled with depression prevent you from seeking help. Treatment can provide relief by identifying what's wrong and reducing symptoms that interfere with your work and personal life.

Don't let stigma create self-doubt and shame. Stigma doesn't just come from others. You may mistakenly believe that your depression is a sign of personal weakness or that you should be able to control it without help. Seeking counseling, educating yourself and connecting with others who have depression can help you gain self-esteem and overcome destructive self-judgment.

Don't isolate yourself. If you have a depression, you may be reluctant to tell anyone about it. Your family, friends, or members of your community can offer you support if they know about it. Reach out to people you trust for the compassion, support and understanding you need.

Talk about it. Spread the message positively about the harm of stigmatisation. Educate others and encourage them to be supportive. Don't assume they are being deliberately ignorant - they may not understand because they may not have experienced depression for themselves.

Others' judgments almost always stem from a lack of understanding rather than information based on facts. Learning to accept your depression and recognize what you need to do to treat it, seeking support, and helping educate others can make a big difference.

Tips on getting back to the top

Be kind to yourself. I know that's easier said than done sometimes, but take some time to remind yourself that you're only human, and sometimes we feel things deeply within us. And that's okay.

Understand that you are not weak. Seeking help does not make you weak. The fact that you want to feel like yourself again makes you incredibly strong.

You are stronger than you think.

Isn't that right. D?

Talk about it. It's easy to cut yourself off and hibernate. To feel like you're a 'burden'. You're not. The people that care about you will want to help and support you. So talk to them. If you really feel like there is no-one you can talk to, you can also talk to someone medically or professionally.

Treat yourself. Give yourself moments of kindness by doing things or indulging in things that make you happy.

Little bursts of joy can accumulate in to long term to getting back to yourself and feeling happier.

That's not what I mean, Dieter. 🙄

It's important to understand that although your symptoms of depression may come and go, or be with you for a while, being kind to yourself will ultimately help alleviate some of that pressure put on yourself.

Feelings and emotions are like rollerocasters; once on board, you've just got to let yourself go through those rickety up and downs. And crazy, scary loop-de-loops. But remember, you will eventually be able to get off the ride when it comes to a halt. 🎢

Now D, shall we get you into bed and I'll give you some nice, warm tummy rubs, hmm? Would you like that?

No, D. I'm not going to rub your di-

Dieter and I hope that we've managed to explain a little bit more about depression, even if you never experience it. But if you do, or are currently going through it, know that you are not alone and you will feel like yourself again.

And we are giving you the biggest hug right now.

Please be kind to yourself and know that no matter what, you are amazing. You will persevere, and you are stronger than you think you are. 🖤

If you need further help, please check out the links below:

Mind UK

Giving Guidance USA

In a crisis? Worldwide Help & Numbers

Healthline Depression & Anxiety

Ideas for coping with depression

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

More Dieter & Jett love here

ℹ️ Dieter and I always strive to bring you unbiased, fact-checked advice. We're not licensed therapists, so we do a lot of research to ensure we can provide helpful and informative posts. Well, I do. Dieter mostly sits around eating KitKats.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None mostly. Goldfish slander, some minor injuries resulting from clumsiness, mentions of events from the show. Layla is here! We stan a healthy, happy divorced couple in this house >=\

A/N: There will be multiple chapters like these in this series, mostly dialogue and filler to help facilitate plot.

Taglist: @shirukitsune @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 4:

Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

"You guys can't keep doing this." Layla said over the phone.

"I know, I know." Marc sighed, running his hands through his hair. He haphazardly sprinkled some fish flakes into the tank to feed the ever chubby goldfish; looking at the glass to see Steven's reflection staring back at him, a frown creasing his features.

(Marc, you're going to make 'em pop!) Steven scolded.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how much to feed three goldfish?" Marc groaned.

"Steven told you the fish were gonna explode, eh?" Layla laughed softly.

"Yeah. Almost exactly that. I swear, I've never met a man who needs an emotional support fish." He replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, screwing the lid back onto the tiny container of nasty-smelling flakes.

(How dare you! Gus and his friends are members of this family! You're going to hurt their feelings!) Steven said, absolutely aghast at Marc's summary of how the little aquatic creatures fit into their lives.

(The other two don't even have names yet, hermanito.) Jake finally piped in, coming to co-front to see what all the fuss was about.

"But seriously, Marc. You have to take it easy. Just tell Khonshu to shove off and ignore his bony ass for a few days!" Layla sighed. Though they weren't married or intimate anymore, Layla still cared deeply for "her boys"; even Jake, to a point. Even if she didn't fully trust him, he was a part of Marc and Steven. Part of their system. She knew Jake was the protector. She knew that he was only violent when he absolutely had to be.

Or when Khonshu sent him after fresh targets. She still didn't like that.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marc flopped onto the sofa, his hand resting over his face as he sighed.

"He's a god, Layla. It's not so easy to just say no."

"Taweret doesn't seem to have a problem with boundaries." She pointed out.

"Because Taweret is a big softie, Layla. She literally mothers you." Marc retorted with a grunt.

"Well… she is the goddess of motherhood. One of them, anyway." Layla conceded.

"And Khonshu is the god of being a tall, harping asshole who refuses to let me rest." Marc leaned back, closing his eyes as the leather on the sofa softly groaned under his weight.

"You think we like working for him, still? We don't. We need the suit, and people need to be kept safe..."

"Have you considered just… giving it all up? Telling Khonshu you're done? Just hang up the cape?" Layla hummed.

Marc could feel Steven and Jake fade into the background of the headspace, leaving him alone to his conversation with Layla, not enjoying the current topic at all. And it would be smarter to prevent a possible argument between Jake and Marc, right now. They had enough headaches.

"I already tried that, remember? Khonshu just used Jake before we knew he was here and had him kill Harrow."

"Right…"

"And besides…" Marc said, conspiratorially. "...I think he already has his sights set on another person to be a Moon Knight. And I don't know who it is, but I know he's going to hold it over my head. Steven, Jake and I would rather be dead than let some poor, innocent person see the shit we have."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Okay… You obviously need a mental health break. Anyplace in particular you can go to get away from everything?"

"Well… there is one place. A little shop Steven found that's nearby." Marc replied.

"Is it a bookstore?" Layla laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Marc chuckled. "Some woman runs it. American, if you can believe that. Apparently the store was her aunt's or something and she inherited it from her when she died. Steven's built a bit of a rapport with her. Me too. Kinda. She also sells stuff like coffee, tea, snacks… kind of like a one-person cafe."

"She runs it alone?"

"Yeah, impressive actually. But, it's not always safe, I saw that the other day." Marc nodeed.

"Oh? What happened?" Layla asked, wholly invested now. They had a friend? She likely didn't know about their DID, but Marc, and by that extension Steven, and possibly Jake having friends was a win in Layla's book.

"Some abusive drunk ran in after his girlfriend. Apparently she hid his girlfriend in her flat upstairs when she came in covered with bruises and freaking out." Marc said, smiling a bit at remembering your tenacity and urge to protect somebody you didn't even know. Even Jake respected you after that. And Jake respects very few people.

But it proves you were a protector, like he was. Not to the same extent, but close.

"Sounds like a good person."

"She seems like one. I just hope she doesn't get herself into trouble with anymore–ah!" Marc hissed, dropping the phone and waving his hand in the air as pain whipped through his fingertips.

"Shit!" He cursed, picking up the phone again with his other hand. He glared at the red marks appearing in his palm.

"Marc? Are you okay? What happened?" Layla asked, her voice just a hair above worried.

"Yeah, just my fucking hands again. Last week it was my shins." He grunted.

"So either you're getting old," Layla teased. "Or a certain someone hurt themselves again."

"Yeah, just wish they'd quit it. It's really inconvenient."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?" Marc asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the burning red marks blossom on his skin. Pretty, almost, if you were into that sort of messed-up body art.

"Marc, please don't tell me you haven't considered that every time you got hurt, your soulmate felt those pains, too?" Layla deadpanned with a sigh, most likely pinching the bridge of her nose. He could picture it now. She was probably pacing in the kitchen of her flat in Cairo; the sun illuminating her figure, making her curls glow in an amber light, highlighting her jaw as she frowned.

But the thought she triggered in his mind sent a stone dropping into his gullet. Had he really not considered that? He thought that maybe, being Moon Knight would… would dull the pains, or maybe negate them entirely. Or… was he just stupid and didn't put them into consideration?

If they can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs... what about when he…

But sometimes it felt redundant to think about and worry for someone he never met, but at the same time…

"Fuck." Marc hissed, wiping at his face.

"Oh, my gods! You haven't been careful at all have you?" Layla gasped.

"I…"

"Marc! You and the other two need to get it together and take it easy. You think you don't understand things? Imagine how your soulmate feels. They're probably going about their normal daily routines and feel it when you get shot! Oh gods, what about when we were in Egypt and you got impaled?" Layla murmured. "Gods, I almost forgot about… what about when you died? I don't even want to imagine what they felt."

Marc dropped back into the cushions staring blankly at the ceiling. She voiced the very thing he himself was hesitant to mention.

"I… I forgot about that, too." Marc said, his voice almost flat.

"I imagine they must have been confused when their mark reappeared."

"Fuck…" Marc groaned, feeling exhaustion suddenly creep into his body. But then, he jerked, gripping the back of his head. "Damn it!"

"Another pain?" Layla mused.

"God–yeah. Right in the back of my head." Marc grunted.

"Yikes. Your soulmate must not be having a good day." Layla chuckled.

"Whoever they are, they're accident-prone as all hell!" He grumbled, pouting as he rubbed the fresh sore spot.

"Pot callin' kettle, Maaaarc." Layla sang softly over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Steven."

"Good."

"Ugh, please don't say that." Marc said, a smirk cracking his mask of discomfort. "He's already nagging me."

"Okay, okay…" Layla quieted for a moment. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah?"

"I might take a trip to London. Maybe if I'm there, Taweret and I can run interference for you to give you a break." Layla suggested.

"Layla… You don't–"

"Already looking at plane tickets." She interrupted.

"Of course you are." Marc smiled. That was one of the things he loved about Layla when they first met. He was drawn to her. Her snark, her determination…

"Yeah. I'll pack a bag and hop the flight that leaves in a few hours."

"Wow, okay." Marc said, his eyes widening. "You're serious about this?"

"Who else is going to babysit you three and get Khonshu off your back if me and the Hippo Mama don't?" Layla jabbed playfully.

"Oh my god, you do not call her that." Marc snorted, shaking his head.

"She thinks it's a cute nickname. And she agrees with my plan, so…"

"Oh great. You two gonna just harp me and remind me to take my vitamins, too?"

"I mean, if we have to…"

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"But that's why everyone loves me!" Layla laughed.

"Sure, sure. And Layla?" Marc asked, looking at the mark on his wrist, a soft fond look in his eyes. It was blooming today, the rose.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Marc. Go hang at that bookstore and get a coffee or something, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You hurried up the stairs and rushed to your oven, frantically cursing with each step as you hauled yourself up the stairs and into your flat.

You practically ripped the oven door open, coughing as smoke filled your nostrils as the burned pastries greeted you.

"Damn it!" You whine, slipping your oven mitt on and grabbing the small pan with one hand.

Your phone started ringing and you spun on your heels to glare at the offending object secured to the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you–"

You felt the pan tip when you turned, the blackened treats threatening to fall to the floor, and without thinking you reached out with you other, unprotected hand and gripped it, before making a sharp yelp and throwing the pan onto the counter with a loud bang, blowing air over your burning and blistering hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You hiss, turning to your sink and hitting the tap for some cold water. The stinging subsided, if only minutely.

The phone rang incessantly again.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes with a groan, and pulled away from the soothing coldness of your tap.

But, of course, as your natural "luck" would have it… You trailed water onto your floor, and slipped into it, cracking the back of your head on the tile. Not hard enough to knock you out, no, but it was just enough to hurt, and leave a rather nasty bump.

So. There you lay, flat on your back, water still flushing into the drain of your sink, smoke detector now going off, and your house telephone ringing impertinently.

"I didn't do anything! Why're you guys always giving me the short end of the stick?" You shout at nothing in particular; maybe whatever gods could hear your lamentations and rueful words.

For extra effect, you flipped the bird with your uninjured hand.

Yeah.

Fate was a funny thing, all right.

Chapter 5: Link

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME MARINA & THE DIAMONDS / THE FAMILY JEWELS

was i meant to feel happy?

people like to tell you what you're gonna be.

it's not my problem if you don't see what i see.

i do not give a damn if you don't believe.

it's my problem that i never am happy.

are you satisfied with an average life?

do i need to lie to make my way in life?

nothing comes for free.

they say i'm a control freak.

it's my problem if i wanna pack up and run away.

i feel the need to hide.

i feel i want to die.

are you satisfied with an easy ride?

once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

trying to hide the hole inside my head.

the sleep is not my friend.

i feel celestial.

i wonder when the night will reach its end.

you've been acting awful tough lately.

inside, you're just a little baby.

it's okay to say you've got a weak spot.

you don't always have to be on top.

better to be hated than loved for what you're not.

you're vulnerable.

you're just trouble.

don't be so pathetic.

can you teach me how to feel real?

look like a girl but think like a guy.

not ladylike to behave like a slime.

easy to be sleazy when you've got a filthy mind.

girls are not meant to fight dirty.

is there any possibility you'll quit gossiping about me?

i feel i've been riding up the wrong path.

i'm gonna make sure i get the last laugh.

do you think you will be good enough to love others and to be loved?

last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed.

i want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me.

you never told me what it was that made you strong and what it ws that made you weak.

i'm obsessed with the mess that's america.

your mind is just like mine.

you're looking for the golden lie.

feeling like a loser, feeling like a bum.

don't get on my bad side.

just because you know my name doesn't mean you know my game.

i'm good at protecting what they want to take.

i'm a fucking wild card.

all i know is i cannot pretend.

i feel i'm watered down whenever he's around.

did you find your bitch in me?

you're just a little bit too much like me.

i'm only after success.

i just want to make a change.

i know exactly what i want and who i want to be.

i'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy.

if i fail, i'll fall apart.

i feel like i'm the worst so i always act like i'm the best.

your possessions will possess you.

tv taught me how to feel.

real life has no appeal.

i'm a cloud drifting by, dripping tears from the sky.

i'm a stray cat on the roam.

one track mind like a goldfish.

this better be worth my while.

i feel numb most of the time.

i've been silent all my life.

i was dreaming something dark.

i'm a guilty one.

will i see the end?

did i beat you at your own game?

typical of me to put us all to shame.

i can't keep my cool.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT, I have a confession to make: I read all of the Harry Potter books and didn't like them, to the point that I cannot remember anything from canon. But reading your fic feels like I am getting to experience the magic everyone else felt when they read the OG series, so thank you for that!

I wanted to say that I especially appreciate your treatment of the female characters. Obviously you are getting rid of the weird misogyny and competitiveness of the books in regard to Hermione, Fleur, Molly, etc (I especially love your Molly, and the respect she gets from the other Order members is delightful) but I really appreciate it when it comes to the "reminiscing" parts of the story. It always bothered the hell out of me that Lily seems to have nobody who really remembers her? Like she was clever and pretty and nice and yet all anybody talks about is how cool James is and he has all these bros who would die for him while Lily had ... No friends? Apparently? Anyway sorry this is so long but I really really really appreciated that Molly, Lupin, Sirius, etc. don't just forget about her in your version, and talk her up to Harry as much as they do his dad.

This is a really incredible compliment. Thank you! It makes me incredibly happy to hear you're having that experience. It was one of the foundational moments of my childhood, and to share it with someone else is a magical privilege.

Lily is so dear to me, even though the source gives us rather little about her. I think it's a great shame that Harry in canon grows up mostly around his father's former friends, who happened to survive the war, whereas Lily's friends (we imagine probably the Gryffindor girls, so... Marlene, Dorcas, etc.?) are all dead or missing when the story starts. There's something grotesquely tragic about that, upon reflection: Harry is robbed of knowledge of his mother because of how the war destroyed her living memory. It's such an insidious remark on what death takes away — not just one life, but the memories and love that the life represented.

I was endlessly inspired by that one throwaway remark Lupin makes about being friends with Lily. It's really odd, in the context of Lupin's setup as a Marauder, that when he finally gets a one-on-one with Harry about his parents, his first move isn't to talk about James, but Lily. (Of course, this is on the heels of a comment about Lily's eyes, but like — Harry is said by many people to look like James, and if Lupin was James's friend first, shouldn't that have been the thing that struck him? Wouldn't it be "you so resemble your father, one of my dearest friends on this earth"?) And what was that kindness Lily showed to Remus? Especially since James literally altered his own biochemistry and risked his life in order to support him on full moons? I'm not saying Lily wasn't a true friend to Remus, but like — that's kind of a hard gesture to top, Lils!!

Between that and the goldfish story with Slughorn, Lily gets a phantom characterization as this intensely selfless, giving person. Problem being: that's not a personality, that's a character value. And we don't talk about people we miss that way! We don't go "damn, I'm missing my friend Lily, a noble heart capable of great kindness," we go "oh damn, Lily would have loved that joke," or "those were her favorite kind of pickles," or "I bet she'd have hated that guy." It's the ephemera of knowing someone that we use to feed their memory, and it's that ephemera Harry will never get.

[whoreshippingbooks]

what should i do? shall i cut your three fingers or use the lying fork to eat the clementine? i was mixing pickles along with my indian gradmother, she tells me you never know taste of the food you make from your own mouth, let spark in eyes of others tell you the story. inside a gothic fiction I'm sitting on my husband's lap, his eyes gone bleak, same color tastes same, so i poke my fingers in his eyes/ i was sure pickle was made well when his eyes bled.

hunger

/ˈhʌŋɡə/

noun

• a feeling of dangerous ulterior motive. "I tell you, hunger is not a political joke"

you must be terrified of one's hunger. i have heard wolfspiders eat their own babies, because i know a poor mother shall chop her organs if her kid asked what is for dinner. my heart sweetie, my heart/ so shall she serve it on the plate and push it towards you. a boy i liked learned his first word as love and the very next word he spelled was desire and so when he learnt the third word he stopped. he had a picture book in his hand, a knife drawn along every sharp object existed. every lover of mine left one finger or toe before they leave, and i'm sick of refrigerator that looks like some experimental laboratory having preservatives of body parts and i'm sick of having one or two fingers pressed against my bread with spilling mustard sauce for breakfast just because i cannot afford a full liver because no one has found me worthy enough to have left a complete organ behind, it is always one finger or a toe. because brutality can taste of sugar when you are in wrong love, the heros in me are the villains about me. you should know the generations of howling, the generations of abandonment, the generations of grief i had to pet, made god cry.

once again inside of a gothic fiction, i am a taurus so my upbringing is to be a labour of rage and shame, my husband should be a leo for he has wolfsbane spine bone. our bedroom is slaughter corner of the house, him and i look in the Mirror of Erised, he licks my neck i feel a graze of bullet on my skin he continues, for years now i grew icicles from scalp instead of hair it scraped his clavicle. i sniff like shark does to blood, like a goldfish has been wounded a mile ago in ocean. like i can smell food. like i have to kill. like i have been hungry all my life.

070222

— muffinsincoffin, "once again inside of a gothic fiction"