#posting at night so i can convince myself this is necessary to post while being too tired to question myself

[coolnonsenseworld]

Has anyone maybe counted which Klance floating lovingly mid air of mine is it? Sixth? Eight? But first one to become a standee though. I adore the idea of them gravitating toward each other, away from trouble, without any other context beyond love and bliss and I will be happy to draw 50 more versions of it.

Linktr.ee/mezzy

[fuwaprince]

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

[ashtrayfloors]

As Matthew Rohrer put it, “I must learn to say the things I never intended to say,” and then I want to add: I also want to learn to say all the things I intended to say— intended and unintended in the very same breath. This seems to me a power,

inherent in language itself, to make and re-make, to vision and re-vision, to act and re-act to the world as it throbs, or culture as thesis-antithesis- synthesis, fear and some trembling necessary and full. Barbaric yawps! Walking home drunk the other night, I said a bunch of weird, good things

and you did, too and while it’s hard to remember exactly what the shadows of what and the feeling still linger—even now, even sober—we were so fired up, because the night was so ridiculously in flower, so and so and me and you

electrified and shocking, terrific and true, and we were laughing together, leaving our strung-out presence like presents around the city, me an amplifier and you a defender. One thing I definitely remember is talking earlier—earlier when?—earlier ever

about how you convince everyone that you’re talking directly to them, and I convince everyone I’m dangerous with speed—it’s true I like being worn out, even when I read, and sometimes, too, overwhelmed and even panicked (though mostly after the fact). When experience kicks me

and everything turns black, or polka-dot, or mechanical bull or post-avant, my teeth in the trees my blood on the windshield, it's just an indication that I need to act decisively—to do something for myself with myself and keep living. It's the best I can do for the people who'd miss me,

but more importantly for the ones who I would miss terribly. Life is overwhelming for good and for ill. But what isn't overwhelming? Beauty is overwhelming. Data is overwhelming. Text and the devil and the heavens overwhelming.... How to live and what to do? To make sense all the time (or maybe ever)

in this life/of this life is a sham. Nothing is perfectly nailed to the wall. I want as much as possible for the carnival of what is. Better worn out and wary, than a mannequin pretending. "The slightest loss of attention leads to death," said Frank O'Hara. I say: Be prepared for the darkness

when it takes you, but stay alive and stay light for as long as you can.

—Matt Hart, from "Amplifier to Defender" (Sermons and Lectures Both Blank and Relentless, Typecast Books, 2012)

[bittermause]

End of the Year Review: A Three Year Act Edition

My birthday is ten days away, so I felt it appropriate to write another one of these End of Year Reviews before then. I decided to summarize the last two years since I didn't bother to do so after 2019. The motivation to do this came from regretting to not record and keep any of my previous EoY posts from 2018 and earlier. As I get older, those said years became a blur to me, which is unfortunate. But I digress, let's start things off with the glorious year of...

2020

The year when Covid went into full swing around the globe, but also the year of brand new beginnings and a year full of insane luck and precise timing. In 2019, literally the day after Christmas, I was offered a job as a 2D Animator for a unique Cybersecurity training firm in CA. After a brief moment of panic and my best friend convincing me to take a chance with this new venture, I agreed to move out west at the end of January, and start my new job in February. For first two weeks I stayed at an AirBnB close to my job, and eventually moved into a makeshift studio space attached to a family home that belonged to a fellow alumni's mother. I never imagined I would finally leave Michigan after 35 years of personal pain and misery, to have a job that actually paid a livable wage that was also synonymous with my career path, and be able to leave behind an environment that put me in a constant state of stress and depression. For the first time in ages, I felt truly blessed. In the Spring, my best friend and I started getting re-acquainted with an old mutual friend of ours that we seldom spoke to in years. We ended up spending weekend nights having three way calls, discussing creative projects and talking about life in general. Never thought I'd re-connect with them in such a way, but now we have a much tighter friendship bond than we did in the past.

2021

After being able to save a lump sum of money thanks to the low rent cost and full on public transit reliance, I finally acquired a car. It didn't take me long to get re-acquainted with driving on the road; not having to deal with the iconic pot holes and rough weather worn terrain made travel cakewalk. I took my time to discover some great local haunts, like GraphAids and Record Outlet. However, in October I realized that my body was out of shape, and when I weighed myself for the first time in forever, I was hitting 231 Lbs. I took it upon myself to start a weight and task log in order to keep track of CICO, and exercise again. ( I was rotating between DDPY, Ringfit and the mini-elliptical) I also acquired a nutritionist to guide me in making better decisions for my diet. When November rolled around, I came to the conclusion that I needed to move out of the little studio space and into my own apartment. While it helped me save a great deal of money, the space was tiny, I missed having a stove, and a washer and dryer nearby. My landlady was oddly avoidant on giving rent history to my soon-to-be apartment management, but come later December I was still able to get approval for a unit. That same month, I announced the end of my long running web comic The Shufflers. It was one of the hardest decisions I had to make, but a necessary one. I still think about whether or not I can pick it back up again, but only time can tell.

2022

No doubt, is perhaps one of my favorite years living out in CA by far. I moved into an upper level apartment, got promoted to Production Supervisor at my workplace, I traveled to Colorado Springs to hang out with my friend, got to visit The Academy Museum with my workmates and explored the Studio Ghibli exhibition, and roamed a little bit around my new city and found some neat shops and restaurants. Along with it's pleasures, also came with great internal struggles; even though I left my old life two years ago, some of the excess baggage was still clinging on to me, and my perception of self was still very unhealthy. I started receiving therapy in June twice a month, in order to help me untangle my past grievances with myself and to help me pull away from the people that caused it. These sessions have been a real eye opener, and keeping a journal based on each one has greatly helped. One of the hardest challenges I've ever faced so far was convincing myself that I am worthy of self love and respect, to undo the belief that I am an unlovable, creep-ass overweight toad, and stop hiding my honest feelings and insecurity behind a goofy ass mask. While it's been a painful journey, the self-discovery was worth it.

Plans for 2023

I'll be continuing my self-improvement goals throughout this year. Since last October, I went down to 202 LBS. Next year I'd like to hit 175 or less. (Ideally I should be aiming for 135 as the ultimate end goal, but that won't be likely for another year and a half). Outside of that, the other goals I'd like to achieve are;

Continue making Animated shorts.

Get contacts, particularly ones I can wear if I decide to go swimming.

Get my hair professionally colored. Been thinking of doing a red violet or dark purple.

Re-work my wardrobe more

Continue exploring and go to more events.

Work on an actual comic project again.

So far for all the goals I've set in previous years, I was able to attain them. I hope that I'll be able to continue that trend in the next year.

[shinesurge]

I like complaining about America's fucked up medical system whenever I get the chance, so y'all might remember that I was hospitalized last year (2020(not covid-related)) and had to have emergency surgery. It was fine tho, it all went down okay and we have pretty good insurance through my partner's job at Cumberland University so we weren't hurting too much once the projectile vomiting stopped.

A bunch of shit happened between then and now and I decided I wanted to get top surgery, the reasoning split about 50/50 between gender reasons and the fact that my mother was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer at 32, which eventually killed her. Every birthday's a little spookier for me, so I figured it was time to see about fixing that instead of waiting around for the bombs strapped to my chest to destroy me lmao. It turns out our insurance has a pretty extensive policy about trans health and I fit the criteria perfectly! So we went about getting this done as quickly as possible, which naturally turned into six months of waiting for a consult, then another month waiting for my therapist to write me a letter, then once we'd jumped through all the hoops there was another month and a half of waiting for that insurance to clear. 

Which it didn't! After some confusion about why the system was refusing to cover a perfectly valid case, we dug around enough to figure out Cumberland University has manually set up exclusions in its insurance for gender affirming surgery and procedures. We went around with them for another month, they asked me to prove that trans healthcare is medically necessary and I did so to the best of my ability (mostly with excellent resources other trans folks in similar situations had compiled). In the end they offered us thoughts and prayers and the assurance that "the denial remains - for now." So perhaps something will change their minds some day, but I am not that thing today.

Essentially, the cost of the surgery would have been our deductible and that would have been unpleasant but perfectly managable for us. Now, since we aren't being allowed to use the insurance we pay for, we have to pay over twice as much entirely out of pocket which is. Frustrating. 

I know we're luckier than most in this situation in that this doesn't take the surgery completely off the table, but to be honest the thought of having to pay this money while our insurance wants to cover the procedure is eating at me. We don't have the money or the resources to pursue legal action, and frankly I don't want to wait another number of legal-system-years for the surgery or sink mine and my partner's time into fighting with this institution, so as much as it sucks we're going to have to just let it go and pay the money and continue to pay for this insurance because it's functioning well for us otherwise. We would also like for my partner not to lose their job, which supports us both right now and allows me to keep making comics and us two queers to sleep safely at night. Causing a fuss and geting them fired over this would just give this university even more sway in our lives than it's already got. My therapist is proud of my radical acceptance skills but I'm not sure what amount of therapy I'd need to be cool with all of this lol

I hate that I was in a perfect position to advocate for myself and other trans people who might come through here after me and I wasn't convincing enough to get this fixed for any of us. I know it's not my job to fix everything, and I feel good about what positive queerness I manage with my comic most of the time but this seemed like some amount of tangible change I could help with in my own community. It's disappointing that wasn't the case. There's nothing else substantial for me to do, but I CAN complain on the internet and let people know this happened instead of this whole thing existing behind closed doors, and that's going to have to be enough. Aside from my jokey Read My Comic posts I try really hard not to ask people to share things because we're all tired of sharing things, but this one time I'd really appreciate it if you could.

I wasn't going to crowdfund for this surgery because I thought insurance would cover it and others need it more but, well. I know if I don't do it myself people will ask, so if you feel so inclined, the GoFundMe is over here. I wrote this post out for tumblr first and basically edited it to look more friendly to real life folks who might look at the crowdfunding page so you're pretty much already caught up if you decide to go that route lol

Thank you very much for reading this. 

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[armenelols]

There isn't enough appreciation for Elrond's and Isildur's friendship.

I think much of this comes from the movies, where our only image of Isildur is his 'no' and Elrond yelling 'Isildur!', and then we see him die because he dives into the river while running away from a battle because the One Ring falls from his finger. Sure, there is some scroll Gandalf reads, but it only makes Isildur seem even more obsessed with the Ring than he already seemed. Add to that Aragorn's rambling about how he and Isildur share blood and weakness and you've got the perfect receipt for evil Isildur and 'cast it into the fire' memes.

Movie!Elrond's 'men are weak' really isn't helping.

So to start with, I think it is necessary to say that I am talking about book!Elrond and book!Isildur here, and while I don't recall either of them calling the other friend, it's a headcanon I have and it is to some extent supported by the books.

In the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields in Unfinished Tales, Isildur shares a few exchanges with his son, Elendur, that I would like to show here.

Elendur went to his father, who was standing dark and alone, as if lost in thought. 'Atarinya,' he said, 'what of the power that would cow these foul creatures and command them to obey you? Is it then of no avail?'

'Alas, it is not, senya. I can not use it. I dread the pain of touching it. And I have not yet found the strength to bend it to my will. It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen. It should go to the Keepers of the Three.'

And later in the chapter:

'My king,' said Elendur, 'Ciryon is dead and Aratan is dying. Your last counsellor must advise, nay command you, as you commanded Ohtar. Go! Take your burden, and at all cost bring it to the Keepers: even at the cost of abandoning your men and me!'

'King's son,' said Isildur, 'I knew that I must do so; but I feared the pain. Nor could I go without your leave. Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.'

Earlier in the chapter, we also get this passage talking about Isildur:

When he at last felt free to return to his own realm he was in haste, and he wished to go first to Imladris; for he had left his wife and youngest son there, and he had moreover and urgent need for the counsel of Elrond.

Nearer to the end of the chapter, when talking about Isildur's death, Tolkien writes this:

There suddenly he knew that the Ring had gone. By chance, or chance well used, it had left his hand and gone where he could never hope to find it again. At first so overwhelming was his sense of loss that he struggled no more, and would have sunk and drowned. But swift as it had come the mood passed. The pain had left him. A great burden had been taken away. There he rose up out of the water: only a mortal man, a small creature lost and abandoned in the wilds of Middle-Earth. But to the night-eyed Orcs that lurked there on the watch he loomed up, a monstrous shadow of fear, with a piercing eye like a star. They loosed their poisoned arrows at it, and fled.

And last from this chapter, this bit about the Ring itself:

It was little more than two years since it had left his [Sauron's] hand, and though it was swiftly cooling it was still heavy with his evil will, and seeking all means to return to its lord.

So what does this tell us? And in addition, where was I coming to with Elrond & Isildur friendship?

1. For all of Isildur's refusal to give up the Ring after the war ended here:

'Alas! yes,' said Elrond. 'Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast then into Orodruin's fire nigh at hand where it was made. But few marked what Isildur did. He alone stood by his father in that last mortal contest; and by Gil-galad only Círdan stood, and I. But Isildur would not listen to our counsel.

' "This I will have as weregild for my father, and my brother," he said; and therefore whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it.

- The Council of Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring

Isildur realized he was wrong. The Ring was still at its most evil, and it wanted to corrupt him, it wanted to go back to Sauron, yet Isildur resisted enough to be able to almost give up the Ring willingly or at least consider it.

When he was slain, he was already taking the Ring to Elrond. Whether he would have the strength to do it later, he resisted the Ring enough to at least consider it. How many would be able to do so? Of course, there was the factor of the very touch of the Ring paining him, but compared with the Ring's will, that's hardly enough to convince a man to give it up.

And at last, when the Ring slipped from his finger, he did not dive after it. He gave it up, and swam away; and even as the orcs killed him, they killed him a free man.

2. He was bringing the Ring to Elrond. At the very beginning I said this post is about Elrond's and Isildur's friendship, and finally, I am talking about it.

It should go to the Keepers of the Three, Isildur says of the Ring - and for that, he would have to know who the Keepers are, or at least know of someone who knows. And it is said repeatedly that he seeks Elrond's counsel, that he goes to Imladris; did he know Elrond has Vilya?

The location of the Three is one of the greatest secrets kept from Sauron, and it is said many times that almost no one knew of it. Did Isildur know, suspect? In addition to this, Elendur seems to have the same knowledge, which, as he is repeatedly called Isildur's greatest confidant, isn't much of a wonder.

All in all, Isildur either connected the dots well enough to realize that out of all high elven lords, it is Elrond bears a ring of power (and Isildur is clever, this is a possibility); or Elrond was not careful enough and Isildur figured it out from his missteps (which, considering Elrond's experience with cursed jewellery isn't very likely); or Elrond gave him hints on purpose; or he just. Straight up told him.

The last two options seem to be most likely to me, which brings me to Elrond trusting Isildur enough to reveal such a secret to him, which leads me to my Elrond and Isildur are friends agenda.

Should the first option be true, props to Isildur for figuring it out by himself without any clues from Elrond other than him being important. Should Isildur be bringing the Ring to Elrond in hopes that Elrond knows who the Keepers of the Three are, without knowing Elrond is one of them, it still shows Isildur trusted Elrond enough to bring him the Ring even for temporary keeping.

(there is also the matter of whether Isildur knows the other Keepers of the Three, as he mentions them a few times, but never enough to indicate if he knows who they are)

3. Parallels. It is said that Elendil and Gil-galad, the two high kings of their people are friends. Is it really so unlikely that Elrond, Gil-galad's herald (and possibly heir, even though he took no crown), and most trusted advisor besides Círdan; and Isildur, the heir of Elendil the Tall and his second in command, would strike a friendship?

The Isildur we are presented with is both bold and wise - he saves the fruit of the White Tree of Númenor alone because it needs to be done, and then he does it again, and he does it because it's the best for his people. He takes the Ring, and tries to make it listen to him, and realizes he made a mistake; he tries to fix it, and wants to bring it to Elrond.

The Isildur we are presented with has courage, and wisdom, and hope.

Do you know what does this remind me of?

Edain. Their ideals. The reasons why they got the gift of Númenor, greater wisdom, longer lives.

They resisted the evil, no matter how strong; they were loyal, true to their beliefs, brave and courageous.

Elros was chosen as the king of the Edain and really, I highly doubt Edain would choose him as a king just because of his heritage, or because someone told them to do so. Sure, someone could have pointed out Elros to them and say 'hey, look at this dude, he could be a nice king, what do you think?' but in the end, while they might start following Elros because someone else told them, I doubt they would let themselves be led by someone who wasn't the best representation of them. In Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Andreth does not shy away from telling Finrod her beliefs, the beliefs of her people. And I don't think that changed with time.

What am I trying to say? I think Elros and Isildur were both similar in many ways, in ways that made them the leaders they were - and that in a way, Elrond saw Elros in Isildur, as well as himself; for Elrond still connected strongly with his mortal kin, and as I mentioned earlier, their political positions were similar.

And while Isildur was his own person and had done things neither Elros or Elrond would have done, and had his own good and bad qualities, it doesn't erase the similarities.

4. Aragorn was raised in Rivendell, by his mother and Elrond and his people. Of all the people there, it is easy to see which ones would influence him the most: Gilraen, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir. It is repeatedly shown how close he was to them. To some extent we may include Glorfindel, for they were friends, but not as much as the above mentioned four.

Now, as Estel, he wasn't aware of his heritage. He is shown to be proud of his heritage, of his descend from Isildur; and yes, this could be a simple pride in one's ancestors. It could have been that he simply liked Isildur as a historical legendary figure and it became greater after he learnt of his descend from him. Or it could have been that he was told many tales of Isildur, of his deeds and personality, and his family, and decided I want to be like him, and like Elendil, even without knowing he was in any way related to them.

And really, when it comes to the above-mentioned people, who would be the most likely to tell him stories of Isildur? Gilraen who only knew him from stories, or Glorfindel who was never mentioned around Isildur in the books, or Elladan and Elrohir, born after Isildur's death, who could have any number of first-hand stories about hundreds of Aragorn's cool ancestors but not Isildur himself?

All I am saying is there is a potential for Elrond to be telling stories of his old friend Isildur and Elendil and Gil-galad to Estel, and Estel loving them.

There is also the fact that in the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Elendur, Isildur's son, is said to be very similar to Aragorn. And I love the idea of Elrond's and Isildur's sons paralleling each other, in a strange way, thousands of years apart.

5. In the books themselves, we do no see Elrond speaking about Isildur much. (I checked almost every mention of Isildur in most of my Tolkien books. So yeah.) On the Council of Elrond, Elrond talks about Isildur the most, but it is mainly in historical manner and 'the Ring should have been destroyed that day' manner, as you can see in the passage from the book I mentioned above in point 1.

This doesn't tell us much about their relationship, much less their friendship - and thus as a source for my image of them as friends, I give the place to The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, thinking they would make a good duo, and the potential of how Isildur's death may have had affected Elrond.

Isildur's death was unexpected. No one expected the road not to be safe - there is a reason why Isildur and his men were unprepared for a battle. They were simply journeying on a familiar road, to Rivendell and then Arnor. Not even the Orcs that ambushed them knew of the Ring. In Rivendell, they learnt of what happened only thanks to Ohtar, Isildur's squire who survived; and even then, the specific circumstances of his death were not revealed until Aragorn found Elendilmir and the chain which bore the Ring among Saruman's things.

In all honesty, I don't think even Elrond knew Isildur planned on giving him the Ring. I do not doubt he expected him, for his wife and youngest son were in Imladris - but I found no reason as to why he might know of Isildur's plans with the Ring.

That could give him a reason to speak ill of Isildur, couldn't it? Yet when he speaks of him, he only speaks of facts and what should have been done - he doesn't call Isildur too weak to give up the ring, or power-hungry, or proud - and by the latter, Isildur calls himself several times (as can be seen here, in the passages I used above)

It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen.

And here:

Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.

And yes, it was a formal Council - Elrond had no reason to speak of his personal feelings towards Isildur. Yet I think the little he said reflects his thoughts well. He might have felt some bitterness towards him, especially as he later learnt what the Ring's nature truly was; and especially as he had no knowledge of Isildur being willing to give the Ring to him, for better or worse, whether he would find the strength to do so or not.

Still, once Elrond learnt of the Ring's Nature, I think he might have understood Isildur better - especially as he himself did not dare to even touch the Ring.

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[darlingbudsofrae]

Andrew Minyard Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6  || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

I believe that even with all the overwhelming Andrew Minyard content, we can never give the love this precious soul deserves.

Andrew Joseph Minyard deserves all the love in this universe.

He is very loyal.

Like, because he was often left behind most of the times in his past, it’s kind of ironic how Andrew understands the concept of family.

How willing he is to fight for his family, keep his family- even if it doesn’t show in the most obvious ways.

Friendly reminder that Andrew Minyard strike deals with people because he thinks it’s the only way to make people stay.

Friendly reminder that he is willing to go through hell and back for his family to the point of even hurting himself.

Because he could give less shit if he gets hurt. This MF is willing to go all in in protecting “his” people even if it kills him because he just don’t see anything worth living his life all the while secretly doing the best he could because he wants his family to succeed and that’s just-

Isn’t it ironic that everything Andrew Minyard are for are also the same things that ended up hurting him?

Like this kid honors promises to a fault and ensures hope when necessary (eg Kevin and Neil) when his life consisted nothing of false hopes and broken promises.

Did you know that the second character in the book to say the word fine the most is Andrew? While Neil says fine as a defense mechanism, Andrew mostly says the word to assure others that they’re going to be okay when they’re overthinking.

He also really values consent and that first kiss with Neil, when he pushed him and said he wasn’t in the head space to give it? That scene is underrated af.

Also, for someone who got lied to all his life, Andrew is so honest. He tells the truth in all its ugly glory because better terrible truths than kind lies.

Honesty suited Andrew because he was an instigator at heart and his opinions were often unpopular.

Andrew Minyard is not a good person- doesn’t try to convince someone he’s a good person.

He threatens people, he can kill without a second thought. I think this is why most people view him as “psychotic” but if you do read the times Andrew act out on violence, they’re mostly because they’re provoked by inappropriate behavior slash words.

Like with Nicky, and the things he says about Neil and Kevin. I really like that Andrew acts on that because as violent as it is and as much as I love Nicky, he tends to oversexualize someone and say unnecessary and inappropriate things.

I love how Andrew doesn’t act like he likes people. Doesn’t feel inclined to make someone comfortable. 

And honestly, who can blame him when most of the foxes see him as a monster? Like I love the foxes but they’re judgmental assholes.

I really hate this about the books, like I can defend why the upperclassmen and even his own family sees him as such but it just gets to me.

Because for me, out of all the people there is in the world, the foxes should’ve been the first people to understand that Andrew was human with real feelings- that he didn’t have to act on a certain way.

I will never get over about how until the end of the book, the rest of the foxes still sees him that way.

As someone who went thru a lot of shit, Andrew was such a comfort character. Personally, I feel like his character arc was one of the best ones I’ve read.

He’s coping, still coping- and that’s okay.

Y’know what I love about Andrew most? He actively goes to therapy. In a way, despite seemingly giving up on everything, kid is willing to fix himself.

And maybe the results are slow or next to none but so what? He doesn’t have to recover immediately and honestly, reading AFTG back in a time when I was pressuring myself to heal fast because I was too frustrated with everything- reading Andrew was like getting washed by a cold bucket of water.

Recovery takes time. Healing is a process. And it could even take years and no matter how long it takes, it’s okay ✨

Also, another thing I like about Andrew’s character was that Nora made a point about not forgiving abusers. Most books tend to send that message (which is disgusting) but with Andrew’s character, it’s clear that you don’t have to attach yourself to your abusers.

Forgiving abusers is not a necessary part of the healing process. 

 This is getting dark so to lighten things up a bit, Andrew has a sweet tooth. He loves ice cream.

Also, he majored in criminal justice and I know Nora said he did that just to be a troll but I like to believe that deep inside, he wants to help those who are in a situation like him and actually make the world a better place.

Andrew knows what to do when someone’s breaking down. Like, with every character, his apathy aside, he always knows how to act.

Also, he’s one of those annoying even-if-I-don’t-make-an-effort-I’m-talented-af-and-can-still-perform-well-so-sue-me assholes and normally I hate those type of characters but Andrew was an exemption. 

Like, we do not talk enough about the fact that he asked Wymack to choose between numbers 1 - 5 and only let that number of goals in of the opposing team that night before shutting down the goal completely.

Or that he only let 13 of the ravens’ shots - the nation’s best team - in and that is oh my gods where do I even begin with Andrew Joseph Minyard being a superior goalie I cannot-

Also the fact that Andrew completely shut down the goal when Neil freaking asked him to- who is this man? 

What a simp. What power. 

I hope in the AFTG universe, someone out there is doing the god’s work and compiling his saves. Like, I don’t normally watch sports stuff cuz I hate sports but I would pay good money to see that yes sir I will.

We could talk about Andrew’s saves more but that just deserves its own post cuz it’s chef kisses

We do not talk enough about Andrew’s eidetic memory. Seriously, we don’t.

Also, you can say all you want that he’s an emo kid but kid has good fashion sense.

Andrew seriously has the best lines in the series. Did some of them made me choke and wheeze and cringe? Yes. But did most of them make me cry like a bitch and hit my heart right where it hurts? Also yes.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose! Since I have none to give, I will tell the others to respond appropriately.”

Also, some of them were lowkey Shakespearean and I refuse to believe that Andrew doesn’t read Shakespeare-

Seriously, he’s so extra but he’s also so traumatized and such a gay disaster I can’t-

He’s five foot short.

[anotheranimestan]

Kiss Drought

Jealous Aizawa smut + possessiveness

NSFW!! Please note y/n is of age here!!

wc: 3.9k

Since my last Aizawa post is my most successful one (I am happily surprised) it only made sense to make my first smutty post for him 🤤

Perched on a barstool playing with the straw in your drink, you were waiting for your date to show. Being late wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for Shouta Aizawa but you were missing him badly tonight. Impatient since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days. Somehow you’d convinced him to join you for a night out at this bar. You’d spent hours getting ready out of pure excitement. Putting on your sluttiest dress and lingerie to make it worth his while.

You settled yourself at the end of the bar, secluded where the lights didn’t reach and few people were. Aizawa hated being in the spotlights. Excited to see if you all done up for him had the intended effect, your eyes were glued to the door. Your hopes getting crushed every time another person walked in that wasn’t him.

“Hey.” A voice projecting over the music tore through your concentration. You jumped to find a tall burly guy with spiked hair and an over-confident smile leaning against the bar next to you.

You didn’t respond. Just stared at him in pure confusion. Surely you didn’t look like you wanted anyone to talk to you.

“How’s your night going?” He persisted.

“Fine.” You said curtly.

“That’s good. I saw you hiding back here from across the way there and I told my bud ‘I just have to go say hi to that smoking chick.’”

You grimaced. A master at flattery.

“So what’s your name?” He continued, not picking up on any of your social cues.

You gave him the stupidest fake name you could think of on the spot.

“Ah. Of course a hot girl has a hot name.”

You nodded in agreement. Listening to him was killing your brain cells.

“You look familiar you know....wait. You’re one of those pros from the next town over aren’t you.”

You nodded. Surprised he had the mental capacity to recognize smaller heroes like yourself.

He scoffed, proud of himself. “I knew it. Lady heroes are always hot.” Dear god someone get him away. “You know I could have gone pro myself.”

“Oh yea?” You replied doubtfully.

“Yeaaaa. But you know, I figured better not. Villains would have a hard time against me.” He joked. He raised his bicep and winked at you. Clearly about to show off whatever pitiful power-up quirk he was so proud of.

But his confident smile fell as you stared at him waiting to get his little show over with. His face contorted into horror. Realizing he couldn’t power-up.

“Ah. That’s weird.” He said unable to comprehend what was happening. But you were pretty sure you knew what was up.

“Aw honey it’s okay.” You cooed. “Sometimes alcohol makes it hard for guys to...you know...get things working.” You gave him your best fake smile. Highly amused by his ego shattering.

“Excuse me.” He sputtered and ran to the restrooms in humiliation.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched him nearly crying when he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Suddenly you sensed a presence looming behind you.

“I figured you were somewhere nearby.”

You turned in your seat to find sleepy midnight eyes focused on you under a few loose strands of silky black hair. He had his hair tied back just the way you liked it and he hadn’t shaved in a few days so the stubble on his chin completed his signature look. He was so fucking handsome. You’d missed him so much.

“Sorry I’m late...” His gravely voice sounded like he just woke up. “but you look amazing.” He said sweetly soaking you in.

Forgiveness wasn’t even necessary. You immediately melted any time he was in the room. It was effortless the way he could snatch you up.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Eraserhead.” You teased with a raised eyebrow. Already succumbing to his gravity that always seemed to pull you in.

He immediately knew you weren’t referring to his tardiness. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lied with a little smile playing on his lips. Looking down as he felt your finger which was tracing the line down the center of his chest that was deliciously exposed by his partially unbuttoned button-down shirt. It wasn’t fair how he always looked so effortlessly sexy.

“I think he just wanted to be friends. No need to be jealous.” You cooed, knowing it was going to swirl up emotions in him that he was definitely going to deny. A little payback for being late.

He leaned down to your level. You held your lips dangerously close to his. Waiting for him to kiss the honeyed words off your tongue, despite the impatient desire growing in your chest. He always liked to make you wait. It gives him satisfaction knowing you’re stubborn enough to hold out for him to make the first move. Few people are more stubborn than himself. He always found that impressive about you. That and the way you were so good at baiting him.

“I don’t think I need to be jealous about that...situation.” He was willing to bite tonight.

“And why not?” You pretended to pout, tugging on his shirt with your ring finger for him to come closer and close the gap.

He considered his next move. Well aware that you were ready to pounce on any weak response.

“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me right now.” The edge of his lips tilted up. Knowing he had you cornered.

You growled, biting your lip. He came ready tonight. You hated when he smirked like that. Like he’d won. Even if it did make him look incredibly sexy.

“That’s very bold of you.”

“Am I wrong?”

He finally ended his touch drought and caressed your delicate jaw. So distracted by him quenching your thirst you’d forgotten to respond. You just sat there hanging on to his every movement. Entranced by the way he was admiring the color of your mouth.

His thumb grazed the center of your plump bottom lip. Dragging it down to watch the way it cushioned under his pressure.

He chuckled when you stuck your tongue out as he traced. Licking the pad of his thumb and then wrapping your pretty lips around it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said with a smug grin.

Somehow you went from being the cat to being his mouse.

“You are cruel.” You pouted. Begging him with your eyes to end this torture and kiss you.

It made him smile, with strange satisfaction knowing you’re too hard-headed to just ask for what you wanted. A sadist at heart. But you were so adorable when you were like this.

He answered your unspoken plea. “How about I buy you a drink first.” Deciding to hold out on you. Not ready to end this game you started quite yet.

You huffed.

“Someone beat you to it. Early bird gets the worm I guess.” You gestured to the glass of dark liquor sitting on a coaster next to you, knowing damn well you’d bought it for yourself. But you weren’t going to let him get away with this treatment.

He gave you a skeptical look.

“What? Does that bother you baby?” You pressed. You’d get him to admit it one day.

He paused. “Again, not that concerned considering you didn’t drink any of it.” You realized you hadn’t even taken your first sip yet.

Fuck. It’s like he was running on a full nights rest or something.

He slid the glass out of your hand. Disposing it just in case someone actually had tried to buy his girl a drink. Waving the bartender down he ordered your favorite, which he’d memorized a long time ago. A move no other man in this bar could attempt to pull.

“Wow. My favorite drink. Are you trying to impress me or something?” You asked with a cocked brow.

He smirked as he handed over his card to open a tab. You knew exactly the kind of power move he was pulling.

This flicker of his competitive side sent a surge of tingles between your legs which were currently spread on either side of Aizawa’s jeans. After a few days without him you were already longing for him. This was making it worse. You found yourself pressing your thighs together, which didn’t go unnoticed.

His voice was so deep and his tongue lazy when he spoke. You could practically feel the vibrations of his vocal chords right now, just like when they moaned into your mouth. The yearning for him was growing deeper in the pit of your stomach. But he was set on stringing you along. Punishment for teasing him about another guy.

“Here.” He placed the lightly a dewed drink in your hands, ice clinking against the glass. His fingers grazing yours sent another wave of frustration through you as you pictured them caressing your skin.

You’d run out of quips and were feeling tongue-tied. Focusing on the growing swirls of sensations that were beginning to dampen your black lace thong, Aizawa’s favorite.

Aizawa took some long draws of his drink while watching you sip in yours. Eyes intent on your lips wrapped around that straw. The tensing of your delicate throat as you swallowed. Picturing your pink tongue lapping the pad of his thumb again.

He finally sat down on the other bar stool. His knees parting to give himself room for the pressure you were stirring between his legs.

You prodded him with some questions about work. But he was being awfully quiet. He only half-heartedly answered your questions.

Getting a fuller view of you now he was too distracted. His body temperature rose at the tightness of your dress against your body. Your exposed neckline hinting at the fullness of your breasts underneath. Your legs looking smooth and long in that dress that stopped only a few inches below your ass.

Irritation flashed through Aizawa’s skin as, over your shoulder, he saw the guy emerge from the bathroom and look directly at him. He had started walking in your direction, like he was coming back for seconds, before he noticed you were with another man. He hadn’t been that bothered when he first arrived but now he felt his rarely-seen temper flaring up at the thought of this guy trying to make a move on you.

You were mid-sentence when you saw Aizawa’s jaw clench. His irritation fueled the fire that was blazing in your lower stomach. He only got that possessive look in his eye over one thing. You.

You had to shift in your chair to try and ease the throbbing under your dress. Desperately trying to distract yourself if you were going to be able to hold out against Aizawa’s punishment drought.

You were going to need a few shots to pull it off. Pulling your dress down, unsuccessfully trying covering your butt, you stood up to wave the bartender down.

Aizawa flinched, the tightness in his pants growing after seeing the curve of your ass peeking out under your dress. His body went up in flames however when he caught muscle man catching a look as well. Temper properly stoked, he was hellbent at letting this guy know he could go fuck himself.

You felt Aizawa snatch your wrist and pull you between his legs. Yelping at the abrupt movement, you stabled yourself from tripping over your heels on his crotch, accidentally, and felt the lump that had formed there.

“What are you doing?” He growled in your ear.

“I’m...ordering another drink?” You said confused.

“I’m the only person who’ll be ordering your drinks for the rest of the night.” He informed you warmly, giving your ass a squeeze before resting his hand over the exposed part. “What do you want babe?” He cooed when the bartender arrived.

He ordered four shots of your favorite tequila.

Your arms draped around his shoulders as he held you in his domain. One arm relaxed on the bar, the other territorially holding you against him.

As you both downed the shots you noticed him glaring at something every few seconds under hooded eyes.

“What are you looking at?” You said leaning forward.

“Nothing important.” He growled through a clenched jaw.

But you’d followed his eye-line to find the man from earlier at the other end. You grinned in satisfaction.

A devious streak surged through you. Excited to see how your man would react to you now.

“I thought you weren’t jealous.”

His dick twitched at your hand brushing over his jeans.

“I’m not.”

“Well it seems like he’s bothering you. Want me to go over there and have a few words with him for you babe?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you want to try something like that.”

“I think I might.”

He downed his last shot, the alcohol starting to buzz in his head. He was struggling to keep his temper under control. You were really testing him, on purpose too which made it worse. But he knew how you worked and how to press your buttons.

“Then go do it.” He urged. Releasing his hold on you. Holding his arms up in the air.

You huffed. Wrapping your arms around him even tighter. You hated when he did that. He knew you wouldn’t go. And you hated even more when he took his hands off you.

“You’re so mean.” You whined.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry baby. But you really think I’d let you win this little teasing game of yours so easily?” You yelped when his hand came down heavy on your ass again. Jutting your hips onto his hardened boner. “Unless you’re trying to tell me I have an actual reason to be jealous.” He dared you, looking you directly in the eyes.

He had you cornered again. His little mouse. You couldn’t even pretend to admit that another man caught your eye. And the throbbing in your panties was unbearable now. You were dying to smash your mouth on his.

You whimpered as he swept your hair from your neck. His lips only grazing your skin as he whispered into your ear. “You can tell me the truth baby.” He cooed.

You were barely holding out against him. Your stubbornness was seconds from giving out. His deep voice in your ear had you dripping. You crossed your legs trying to hold yourself together but Aizawa wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Come here.” He instructed as he lifted your leg over his knee so that you straddled his thigh. The pressure against your throbbing sex eliciting a soft moan.

He gave one more glance at the pathetic guy from earlier who was visibly tense. Having to watch you perched on his lap. Wilting over him in submission.

Suddenly you were very thankful you were tucked away where few people could possibly notice you melting over him, a mess.

“So? Should I be jealous?” He placed his final chess piece.

You whimpered more as his hand guided your hips to grind against him. Your stubbornness snapped.

You shook your head no into the crook of his neck. Your pussy started convulsing, desperately wanting him to touch you.

“Say it.”

“No baby. There’s no one to be jealous about. Nothing.”

You whined into his ear pressing your lips against him.

He groaned in satisfaction at hearing you admit it.

He shifted his leg to stretch out your stance. Your knee hooked over his thigh, exposing you so he had full access. The cold air hitting your drenched underwear made your breath hitch.

His thumb massaged the inside of your thigh, causing your hips to buck in anticipation. It was killing you.

“Please Shouta. Stop teasing me.” You whined.

You licked your lips which were painfully dry from lack of kisses.

The gloss of your saliva on your lips made his mouth water.

“You look so pretty.” He said grazing the outside of your drenched panties with one finger.

You bit back a moan that was surely going to be so loud everyone at the bar was going to hear.

“Fuck. You’re so wet...all this for me?” He said hanging his head back as he fought the urge to throw you onto the bar and ram his dick into you. Right where muscle man could see.

Another soft moan from you brought him back though. You nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment that he had you this unraveled in front of everyone. Although surprisingly nobody had noticed yet.

He slipped two fingers past your lips. Your tongue swirling around them. His dick throbbed at the sight of your mouth wrapped around him. Sadly wrapped around the wrong body part.

He removed them slowly. Mouth gaping at the saliva that strung off your tongue as he moved them back under your dress, moving your panties to the side and tracing tracing a wide circle around your clit. Just slow enough to hold you on the edge of pleasure.

“I want to hear you say whose pussy this is.” You cried softly. “Tell me baby.” He said watching your face contort at his touch.

You dipped your lips to his ear. Too abashed to look him directly in the eyes right now as he had you helplessly wrapped around his finger.

“It’s yours.” You squeaked out.

“Say my name.”

You were squirming uncontrollably now. But he was careful not to give you what you were dying for until he heard the words spill off your tongue. “It’s yours Shouta...all yours. Please just fuck me already.” You gushed.

“I love how my name sounds in your mouth.” He cooed as he plunged two fingers into you. Feeling the juices swirl around his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out.

Your hand latched onto his shoulder, digging in at his touch. Your hips couldn’t stop grinding against his hand as you used his thumb as a rubbing board for your clit.

“Look at me.” The sight of your face flushed with pleasure was turning him on even more. Abusing your clit even faster as he felt your walls pulsing around his fingers. The tightness in his pants growing painful at how much it wanted you sat on top of him.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded one last time.

Finally ending his kiss drought, he attached onto that pouty bottom lip of yours. Sucking it hungrily. It had been just as hard for him to keep himself off you. He’d been dying to taste every inch of your body.

You latched onto his lip hoping you’d never have to let go. Biting hard to release all the frustration he’d built up in you. He flinched in pain. Having to slip his hands out of you to pry you off him.

“Fuck.” He said feeling his lip. You’d bit him so hard a little blood had been drawn.

“I’m sorry.” You said biting your nail.

“I suppose that was my own fault wasn’t it.” He smiled before sucking your juices off his fingers.

The sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your pussy was clenching around nothing. Grasping for his dick. You needed him. Right now.

You broke out of his hold and dragged his weight behind you to the ladies restroom. Thanking the heavens there was no line because you would easily have punched your way through it.

Slamming the door shut and locking it he immediately threw your weight against the wall. Picking you up and wrapping your legs around him. You clung to him like he was life itself and started aggressively sucking hickeys onto his neck.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whined into his ear.

“I missed you too baby. A lot.” He said kissing your neck as he ripped his jeans and briefs down. He couldn’t wait another second to get inside of you.

His dick was rock hard as he swirled the head around your wet opening. Coating it with your warm juices. He groaned loudly in your ear as he sunk into you for the first time.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

Chills went through you as you felt him stretching out your walls. Wanting him to stuff you with every inch he had.

He pumped into you quickly. You relished at the pain and pleasure of his forceful thrusts. He wanted you so desperately he couldn’t control his power even if he wanted to.

He crashed his mouth against yours to muffle the loud moans that they definitely could hear on the other side of the door.

His mouth started sucking on that pink tongue of yours, mixing with the intense pleasure of him rutting into you. Your hold around his shoulders was going limp. He was fucking the strength right out of you.

“Turn around.” He ordered as he placed you back on the ground. Hiking your dress up to completely expose your ass.

He pressed your chest up against the wall. The cold bricks chilling your skin as he pushed your panties to the side again and inserted his entire shaft from behind. Bottoming out with one forceful thrust and holding it there as he hit your g-spot. Pleasure surged through your body, causing you to moan his name.

The sound of his name pouring off your lips was causing rumbling in his head. He felt himself nearing as he rammed into you faster. Dick throbbing at the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you started rubbing circles around your clit. He was hitting your g-spot with every stroke. You were seconds away from overflowing with euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum Shouta.” You whined as he kept at you relentlessly. Hands clamped on your hips.

“Cum on me baby.” He encouraged as he felt your legs starting to shake.

Just then the knot snapped. And electricity flooded your body. Your hand clamped around his, pulling him against your back in pure gratitude.

Your walls tightening around him sent him over the edge. His rhythm growing sloppy just as he burst, filling you with warm cum. Groaning as he threw his last few weak pumps in pleasure. Coming down from his intense high.

“Shit y/n. Come here.” He said wrapping around your neck and pulling you up to place a sloppy wet kiss on the mouth that had been calling his name.

You both were breathing heavy as he pulled you into his arms. You nuzzled your face into him. Silently worshiping him for the satisfied humming in your body left over from your chilling orgasm.

“I think I missed you more than I realized.” He cooed into your ear. Gently rubbing your pussy from behind. Reminiscing on how amazing the juices felt around him.

You giggled. Yanking him into one last lingering kiss before pulling your dress back down.

He buckled himself up and patted your hair down that he’d disheveled.

When you opened the door, several stunned faces were staring at you.

Giggling nervously, Aizawa pulled you through the crowd to go close his tab out.

He was holding your hand tight as you clung to his arm. Staring at his side profile with hearts in your eyes as he tipped the bartender.

On your way out you bumped into someone’s back. The muscle man turned around in shock.

Not batting an eye you said “excuse me” and kept walking.

You looked up nervously to see Aizawa’s response to the poorly timed interaction but he was just peering at you out of the corner of his eyes with a satisfied little grin.

He grabbed your jaw and pressed a deep kiss on you. Not breaking his stride once as he led you to the door.

“Let’s hurry up and go home. I’m not finished with you yet.”

~~

First smut post so hopefully it didn’t suck 😩

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[betweentheracks]

Hello and yay for this blog!!! I have a question :D. If a certain Chinese star were to wear jeans that say "my cock is gluten free" and "pull me down and fuck me," do you think his stylist would have chosen this knowingly, or do you think it's possible they just were like "hmm english words looks good" and didn't bother to look up the meaning? If they did know the meaning, would they have likely informed the star? Very desperate for the thought process behind this Choice hehehe. Thank you!

Ah, I was wondering hoping if I would get asked about those infamous jeans and here you are!

First and foremost; the following is all speculation from my experiences in the business and is wholly subjective. 

It isn’t impossible that they weren’t aware of what was written on the jeans, but it also isn’t all that likely either. When you pull up these jeans on the Dsquared2 site there’s a listing of what is doodled and written on the jeans and it’s not something that would be overlooked by neither stylist nor client. 

That said, Yibo does know some English and while he may not have known these words exactly, there’s more than enough ways of discerning their meaning. I would also bet half a year of my salary that his stylist would have known what was written here, or any number of personnel that works with them for that matter. I would also take into consideration that even if the jeans had slipped by all these people that may or may not have had the ability to see what was all over them, some of Yibo’s fellow idols should have (looking at you specifically, Seungyoun).

Setting this aside for a moment, I’ll go into who I think is responsible for the jeans being worn to begin with - Wang Yibo himself is the likely culprit. 

Why do I think this? There’s many reasons but most are inconsequential while two points frame the scene as I see it. 

This is markedly not a choice a stylist would make. Stylists, at the end of it all, are employees and therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to know we have rules in place we must abide no matter if we are working outside the purview of the company we are housed under. Even when we work exclusively with a client, we are still taking the name of our company as well as our own with us and are operating as an extension of the brand the company promotes and promises. I don’t know of any company here (and I live in rather free faring place which welcomes eccentricities, mind) that would allow these jeans to be submitted as part of a pitch to either buy or borrow unless they were very specifically in line with a client’s public image and style. Technically these jeans would classify as offensive and profane which means they would invite trouble and cause a stir. While stylists are not associated much with the PR side of things we are still essentially a team playing for the same client - this selection, if gone badly, would be like asking for lightning to strike twice in one place at the same time. If a scandal amounted from them PR would have to handle it and that means the stylist would come under fire for making such a bold and risky choice, most especially with a younger client that thus far didn’t have the sort of image one would think to associate with jeans such as these. 

The second reason is that, from what I can tell, this is in line with Yibo’s personality. He’s very serious about style and engages with it as he does most things; by overtaking it completely and rebranding it to suit him to the point that it makes one wonder if the style wasn’t designed with him in mind. He makes full use of what fashion is all about at it’s core; expression. These jeans in particular would have suited the Yibo of the time he wore them (2018, if I remember right?) as he was trying to break away from the image he held as a pretty boy with demure and soft looks which held the shock value of being in such contrast with his dancing and rapping. He’s mentioned before that he doesn’t really like being “cute/sy” and having to do things in the way of that since it’s not true to who he feels he is. Which, honestly, a lot of idols and stars go through this experience where they no longer wish to be constrained by the persona they play for the public and one of the most impactful means of going about it is to address the styling since it is the focal point of public image. 

The Dsquared2 jeans don’t only say “my cock is gluten free,” there’s actually quite a lot to them and I think it would help if more were aware of it so here’s the description of them on the website: 

D Squared Limited Edition Jeans. Sexy Twist Printed Low Rise. Fun, Evil Boy, Love Sucks, Pull Me Down, Open Me, Unzip, Buttons, Wine Is My Water, Tic Tac Toe, Dean & Dan, Sex, Gluten Free Cock, Hot Patches

The jeans actually say “pull me down and fuck me” right there on the ass, but naturally they can’t list the expletives in the marketing. Not strictly important to this post, but still worth mentioning given the hushed treatment of what the placement of such words could easily imply and the effect that could have had. 

Anyway, the bit that is very telling in my opinion is that “evil boy” tag. I’m not terribly certain due to having never been fortunate enough to work with these jeans myself and the internet only has so many pictures from so many angles, but “evil boy” is either written somewhere (which I think is the case since there’s devil horns present as well) or they’re being promoted as such for aesthetic value. Regardless, I am fairly certain this would be the feature which caught Yibo’s eye. It’s on brand for someone seeking to shatter the conceptual ideal of being naive, innocent, youthful, or soft.

The jeans as a whole fit with Yibo’s sense of humor, as I’ve seen it at least. He lost his mind and fell into full laughter and hysterics over a dick joke, not even minding that he was being filmed or anything. He was still laughing about it even after the other hosts had moved beyond it, making them circle back around to it and in turn making it all the more hilarious for him to enjoy. You can see it clearly in the bts footage from the CQL set that he enjoys being mischievous and stirring things up and having a good time. 

This is who he is, I believe, and it makes a lot of sense for him to have made this stylistic choice and then either convince his stylist to let him run with it or change out at the last second. Both of these are possible, though one of them is less probable than the other given how tricky it actually would be to sneak a wardrobe alteration past the many people that make up the staffing roster for any events, and then to be able to change in the limited time frame available between exiting the dressing room to being in the public sphere would be one in a thousand. Much simpler to goad your stylist into being lenient enough to give you free reign over your own styling - we can only hold out and say no when the grounds for it are met, which this wouldn’t have done in all likelihood - and most of the time we build up a good enough relationship and rapport with clients that we end up doting on them a bit and heed their requests when we can.

That’s all from me on this token moment in Yibo’s very stacked fashion history. Thanks for asking!

Furthermore, there’s the third possibility that this wasn’t a styling choice whatsoever. Or at least not one that involved the stylist in any real regard. It is very plausible that this was just Yibo in his own clothes, having dressed down after the main events wound down. I’ve never actually watched to see what that night looked like overall, but from the videos I have seen it looked to me like the actual do had passed and they were all just goofing around and having their own dance competitions and such when he was wearing them. I can’t say for sure that he did or did not have them on for the whole thing or if they were his own self packed casual wear. In which case it would fall back to his studio to tend to since stylists generally don’t hold authority over personal clothing choices and only ever have a hand in it when it is expressly stated in contracts or temporary clauses, and it just isn’t too common anymore. 

Worth a quick mention for means of distinction, here in the US this choice wouldn't have raised many eyebrows no matter if it was chosen by an artist or a stylist. The only reason I feel it necessary to say this is simply because this is not so in China and that alone lends context to the controversy of these jeans. In the scope of conservatism these jeans are outrageous and I think that a stylist would steer clear of utilizing them at all if they value their job. This is why I don't consider it likely at all that Yibo and his stylist collaborated to make use of these jeans as a way to shake away the remnants of his pretty boy aesthetic.

[fatehbaz]

The time I met the nicest snapping turtle and the most furious softshell turtle. I was a child. I was forced to go visit some far-removed extended “family,” the kind of passive-aggressive and authoritarian people who took in a distant cousin for a weekend and treated you like an obnoxious dog or something, people who I was only slightly familiar with, which made me uncomfortable. “Family” not being something that I ever consistently had access to, “family” not a concept I was (or am, honestly) used to, “family” being something I only knew less of as time passed. They had a job which they were contracted to do that day. They brought me to a decaying industrial site in northern Appalachia, a paragon of Rust Belt gothic, to clean out the junk from a riverside lot that was scheduled to be redeveloped. My impression:

It felt like that stereotypical scene of pulp Americana, where a middle-aged man sits in a construction job-site trailer, flies buzzing, an old outdated fan from the 1970s unhelpfully churning warm air, and he, face half-obscured in shadow, hires a bunch of 19-year-olds to go to a post-industrial site to “take care of things.” Despite it still being morning, everyone is sweating, nobody is happy. A developer, dealing under the table in cash only, who despite owning several private properties is somehow always on the verge of bankruptcies and calls you from a landline after midnight on Tuesday night to offer you $150 to spend the next morning chugging gas station coffee before clandestinely salvaging some rusted metal from an overgrown property he may or may not actually own.

You wouldn’t know how far you were from Morgantown, Pittsburgh, or Zanesville because of the nature of the hills, hills everywhere, always obscuring the horizon, and the density of western Appalachian slopes’ deep green foilage drunk on late spring rain. I was the youngest person present, like a fragile goofy dainty pre-teen stowaway, barely tolerated on their Gruff-and-Serious Mission to tromp through the stagnating mud to reclaim bent rusted metal in the oppressive humidity. Pungent vernal pools. Too many toads and frogs to count. And in the flooded oxbows, and where the rain puddles collected in gravel, there were two turtles, and both of them were tiny little babies that could fit in the palm of your hand. One was a snapping turtle, the other a spiny softshell.

I almost saw this as a spiritual experience, because: (1) I actually lived far away, nowhere near this kind of humidity, where there were much fewer reptiles and amphibians, in a region at the extreme range limits of both of these turtles, where these turtles were rare. Acres and acres of degraded cattle rangeland or barley monoculture. Not very friendly to streams. There was also yucca-covered badlands, shortgrass prairie, sagebrush steppe. Friendlier to reptiles generally, but not generous in providing streams for the turtles. However, if circumstances aligned, and you paid attention to the humidity and the insects and the goings-on of the prairie, you might be lucky enough to sometimes see a snapping turtle or spiny softshell in little stock ponds and vernal pools in the “wide-open” prairie. They were like harbingers of ... something special, I guess.

And it was also a “spiritual” experience because (2) they were my two favorite North American turtles, at least at that time, partially because they both had interesting distribution ranges on the edge of their range, and I often went out looking but could rarely find them, so the auspiciousness of seeing both species together was cool.

And both turtles are so unique. The snapping turtle is like a dragon or dinosaur, full of personality and charisma. The serrated shell, the rough skin, the mass of muscle escaping bursting out and escaping the shell’s confines, the long dragon-like, almost-horned tail. And spiny softshells are almost alien. The dramatically long neck, the unique flat pancake shell, the leathery soft texture of the shell, they’re highly aquatic even for a turtle, etc. Softshells can sit at the bottom of a river, and extend their neck up to the water’s surface, so that they can breath, like a submarine’s periscope. And they’re very skittish, very fast when you encounter them and they retreat, just a blur, like an apparition.

So these, like, dudes in their twenties, seeing me watch the turtles, they all wanted to either (1) take the turtles home as “pets,” or (2) kill and eat them. (!!! But don’t worry, everything was fine, I eventually convinced them to save the turtles, to re-release at the river nearby.) But for a while, these people placed both turtles together, each in a pail with some water, the pails side by side.

You know how snapping turtles have a reputation for being fiery, grumpy, dangerous to handle?

This little snapping turtle was - to this day, still - the most passive and pleasant turtle I’ve ever encountered. Just completely calm and charming. I swear she was smiling. The dudes “babysitting” me were insisting on handling the snapping turtle to demonstrate their fearlessness or some other bullshit. I don’t like handling reptiles and amphibians unless its necessary for their own safety (remove them from the road or residential yard, transplant amphibians from a dangerously drying vernal pool, transplant a rattlesnake to somewhere it won’t be killed, etc.). But this time, to keep these dudes from harassing the snapping turtle, I was the one who would take it, and place it back into the wet pail after each of these guys had Proved Their Courage or whatever. This snapping turtle, not once did it appear agitated or aggressive. Nervous and uncomfortable with the harassment? Yes, but not a violent turtle.

But the softshell? Violent turtle. In the best way. The two turtles were polar opposites.

To this day, that was the angriest turtle I ever met. Hissing, clawing, wriggling, biting. I was 110% vibing with this softshell, because I shared its righteous fury. This turtle didn’t want to be harassed by these guys, treated like garbage. I myself was not enjoying being teased and harassed by these guys. They had spent their down-time that day fishing for and arbitrarily/sadistically killing carp and catfish to toss to the crows.

The softshell, the snapper, and I, all hostages.

To this day, I still love these two “alien” turtle species.

The turtles ended up being transplanted somewhere safer. So did I, when I returned “home.” The turtles lived. So did I, I guess.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[lunar-wandering]

....Family, huh?

girl help i keep posting emotional fanfics at 1 am in the morning

Word Count: 2k

read on ao3

When Wukong and MK returned from the fight of the day, Mei, Tang, Sandy, and Pigsy were all waiting for them. Once Wukong set MK on the ground, Mei immediately ran forward and drew him into a hug, being careful of his injuries. Tang and Sandy were quick to join her. Wukong sighed and turned, about to leave, when he felt a tug at the end of his scarf, stopping him. Turning, he saw that Pigsy had grabbed onto the fabric, preventing Wukong from leaving.

"...Do you need something?" Wukong asked, wanting to head back to the mountain and just rest, it had been a long day after all.

"I... wanted to thank you." Pigsy said, and wow, Wukong had not been expecting that.

"....Thank me for what?" He asked.

"For taking care of MK." Pigsy said, "The kid is like family to me, you know? They're all my family. If MK died....I'm not sure what I'd do. That being said..."

Pigsy suddenly tugged on Wukong's scarf, hard, pulling him closer to him, so that they were staring at each other eye to eye.

"If anything every happens to the kid." He said, "I can promise you this Sun Wukong. I will find a way to kill you."

"Uh." Wukong said, nervously, unsure how to respond to that. "....Point taken?"

Pigsy wrapped up this whole odd exchange by lightly ruffling Wukong's hair, much to Wukong's confusion, before finally letting go of Wukong's scarf. Wukong immediately leaned back, summoning his cloud, and vanishing. Pigsy sighed.

"Hey Pigsy!" Mei shouted, grabbing his attention. "Aren't you going to join in on the 'MK is Okay' hug?!"

"I'll do you one better." Pigsy said, "I'm going to start the lecture on why MK should never do that again."

"Hey now, there's no need for that-" MK started to say, trying to wiggle out of the hug Mei, Sandy, and Tang had effectively trapped him in, to no avail.

"You will stay, and you will learn to not make us worry like that." Tang said, as he and the others tightened their hold on MK.

"Come on guys, seriously? Do we really need to do this again?" MK asked, already resigning himself to it.

-----------

From a nearby rooftop, Wukong watched MK interact with the others, a sad smile on his face. He was just going to head back to Flower Fruit Mountain, but one part of what Pigsy said to him just kept repeating in his head.

He'd called MK family. And Sandy, and Tang, and Mei. The five of them, they were a family, Wukong was now realizing.

"Family, huh?" He muttered to himself, standing up from his crouched position. "....I don't have that anymore."

Not feeling like intruding on the family any longer, Wukong vanished, teleporting back to Flower Fruit Mountain.

...He hoped the monkeys would be enough to soothe the sudden feeling of loneliness that had washed over him.

---------

The monkeys weren't enough. He was a fool for thinking that they would be, after he had seen MK and the others interacting like that. It just....wasn't the same.

Which was why Wukong found himself sneaking in through the back door of the noodle shop. He wasn't entirely sure what he planned to do here, but he figured he could just figure that out while he did it. Wasn't like there was going to be anyone to see him in here anyways, considering the late hour.

Or at least, there shouldn't be anyone.

Wukong suddenly became aware of the sound of talking from the general eating area of the restaurant. From the voices, he could tell that it was MK and his friends. Drawing a little closer, he peeked around the corner, to see them laughing and smiling, the card game they were playing laid out on the table, forgotten as MK retold the events of the day.

They were still up. Having fun, as a family.

...He shouldn't be here.

Suddenly feeling rather stupid for doing this in the first place, (and really, why had he thought it was a good idea to come back here?), Wukong started slowly backing up, fully intending on leaving as though he was never there.

This was, of course, as fate would have it, the moment his tail happened to move in just the right wrong direction to knock a bowl off a table.

Wukong froze as the bowl shattered, the noise seeming to ring impossibly loud. The voices in the other room went quiet, and he could hear someone slowly get up and walk towards the kitchen and, oh, he should move-

"Monkey King?" MK asked, seeing him. Wukong forced himself to relax, trying to make it seem like he hadn't been about to leave in a panic.

"Hey, kid. How's it going?" He said instead, casually leaning against a table, only the swishing of his tail betraying how kinda nervous he was. MK looked both confused and concerned, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to ask him something, but he was interrupted before he could even begin, by Pigsy yelling;

"Tell that monkey that he'll have to pay for whatever he broke!"

Wukong suddenly became aware at the shards of broken bowl surrounding him. Quickly, he magicked them away, making a motion indicating MK to not say anything about it. MK rolled his eyes in response, but didn't call him out on it, so Wukong considered that a win.

Quietly, he followed MK into the main room of the restaurant.

"Ah, Wukong, care to join the game?" Tang asked when he saw him, holding up a deck of cards. "We only just started, I can still deal you in."

"Uh, sure, I guess." Wukong said, slowly sitting down at the table, picking a seat between MK and Sandy. "What are you playing?"

"Poker." Mei said, and Wukong smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

---------

One hour, and multiple warranted accusations of cheating later, Wukong had won the game.

"I am convinced that you cheated." Pigsy said, glaring at Wukong.

"You can't prove anything." Wukong responded, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

"I know, and I hate it." Pigsy sighed, before glancing over at Mei and MK. The two of them had fallen asleep a little while ago, leaning on each other.

"...We should probably get Mei home." Pigsy said, standing up. "Wukong, you can bring MK up to his apartment right?"

"Who do you think I am?" Wukong asked, gently picking MK up. "He weighs but a handful of grapes to me."

Tang snorted at that, but didn't comment on it. Sandy picked up Mei and walked out the door, waving goodbye as he went. Pigsy and Tang started to clean up the table, so Wukong carefully carried MK up the stairs and into his apartment. He put MK down on his bed, transforming his clothes into pajamas as he did so. (Because while Wukong might tend to sleep in whatever he was already wearing, he knew MK always wore pajamas.)

MK stirred a little as Wukong tucked him in.

"Monkie King?" He mumbled, rolling over.

"Shh." Wukong whispered, "Go back to sleep."

"Y'know." MK said, ignoring him, "You should come to family game night more often."

Wukong froze.

"Oh." He said, "This was a. A family thing? Uh. I mean, it was fun but, I probably won't end up coming by again. This was like. A one time thing."

"Aww." MK said, sounding vaguely disappointed. "...You're always welcome to come though."

"Uh huh, sure." Wukong said, trying not to sound as....mentally shaken as he was. "I'll keep that in mind."

MK seemed to accept this answer, as he rolled over and quickly fell back asleep, leaving Wukong by himself with his thoughts. Wukong, figuring that there was no better way to deal with the emotions he was going through right now, climbed out the window and onto the roof, where he started pacing, tail waving back and forth.

What did MK mean by "always welcome"? Did he like, mean it as part of the family, or was he just inviting him to be nice? Surely that was it, right? He was just being nice, or maybe it was just him being sleep deprived!

But what if it wasn't?

...Was Wukong ready to be a part of a family again?

Wukong, caught up in his thoughts, remained ignorant to the passing of time, as he continued to pace back and forth on the roof.

This was how MK found him in the morning.

"...Monkey King?" He asked, making Wukong startle, looking down to see MK standing on the balcony. "What are you doing?"

"Oh! I was just, uh, thinking." Wukong said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. MK narrowed his eyes at him.

"Have you.... been up there all night?"

"Huh?" Wukong looked at the sky, confused, only just now realizing that the sun was rising. "Ah. I uh, lost track of time, I guess."

"So you didn't sleep at all?" MK asked, concerned, as Wukong jumped down from the roof to stand beside him on the balcony.

"Kid, I don't exactly need sleep as often as you do." Wukong snorted, leaning against the balcony rail. "You don't need to worry about me."

"When's the last time you slept?" MK asked, to Wukong's confusion.

"What?"

"When. Was. The last time. You slept." MK asked again, saying it slowly to really drive the question home. "You said you don't sleep 'as often' as me. That implies you still need to sleep. So tell me, when was the last time you slept?"

"I don't see how this is important-"

"If you don't tell me I'll go to Flower Fruit Mountain and ask the monkeys." MK said, summoning his staff, fully ready to follow through on his threat by vaulting to the mountain.

"Okay, okay, fine, you don't need to do that." Wukong sighed, "The last time I slept was....about two weeks ago."

"Two weeks?!" MK practically yelled, making Wukong flinch. "Okay, no, that's it, you're taking a nap, right now-"

"Uh, I don't think that's really necessary-" Wukong started to say, turning to leave, but was stopped by MK grabbing a hold of his scarf and dragging him back into the apartment and oh, Wukong really regretted giving MK super strength now. Even though MK's arm was still injured, the kid had a ridiculous amount of strength and energy.

"Listen," MK said, "I did not sit through 27 lectures from Pigsy and Tang about taking care of myself just to watch another member of my family make the same mistakes I did."

"Another member of your what?" Wukong asked, shock flowing through him, but he was ignored as MK all but threw him onto the couch, pulling blankets out of a closet. He dumped the blankets on top of the Monkey King. Wukong fumbled with the blankets for a moment, finally getting his head free of them, only to be smacked in the face with a pillow MK threw at him.

He, thankfully, managed to dodge the second pillow.

"...Why do you have so many blankets and pillows?" Wukong questioned.

"Me and Mei build blanket forts sometimes." MK said, pulling out the last of the blankets. "Pigsy and Sandy bring up snacks, and Tang will bring up old movies as well. You can join in the next time we build one, but for now, you are going to nap."

Wukong figured that there was no way he was going to be getting out of this situation, so he decided to just accept it, laying down and closing eyes. 

He couldn't sleep though.

MK had just called him family.

....Why? What did Wukong do that could've possibly made MK see him as family?

He didn't understand. He really didn't.

But...something about the idea of being MK's family....just felt right. Like it was meant to happen.

Mind spent from the emotional whirlwind that had been the past 24 hours, Wukong finally fell asleep.

And he dreamt of the games and bonding moments he had with his family from long ago. Somehow, despite missing them, some part of him knew, that he had found a new family with the people he was with now.

[harryhandstan]

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

//

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

//

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body. 

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest. 

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.      

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” 

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.” 

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.” 

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.” 

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

//  

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare. 

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled. 

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face. 

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings. 

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.” 

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?” 

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?” 

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

//

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.” 

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further. 

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply,  “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

//

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the  exhaustion of the day washes over you. 

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

[akayoko]

nights like these

summary: kenma falls asleep in the backseat of kuroo’s car while he waits for the two of you to finish shopping

a/n: just some soft SLEEPY kenma for the soul,, i actually listened to cavetown while writing this, hug all ur friends really made me feel things but it also inspired me a lot hehe please enjoy cuz i had a lot of fun writing this :)

pairing: kenma x gender neutral reader (and kuroo kind of, but mostly kenma)

genre: fluff! 

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

it’s another one of those nights, accompanied by muffled giggles and random banter bouncing off the walls of your cramped apartment. humming a random melody as you hold a warm cup of tea close to your chest, you lean back on the couch, glancing at your friends’ softly illuminated faces under the dim lights. closing your eyes, you listen to kuroo’s remarks at the movie you chose as he clings on to a tired kenma lying between the two of you. i could do this for an eternity, you think, inhaling the delicate scent of the chamomile tea between your palms.

“he is SO dense,” he exhales dramatically, sipping on his drink. “she obviously likes him!”

you laugh at his antics as you snuggle closer to kenma, both you and kuroo making sure to keep him warm and shower him with the love and affection he deserves. he claims he hates the kisses you occasionally place to the top of his head, but he never pushes either of you away. even if he does, he never means it anyway.

“stop that,” he mumbles when kuroo tries to boop his nose.

when he actually pulls away, kenma turns to frown at him, just as if he didn't reject him mere seconds ago. it's a lovely sight.

in the middle of the movie, you reach for the chips only to realize you have finished the third and last bag that night. kuroo looks at you knowingly, and in the blink of an eye, he’s unwrapping kenma from the pile of blankets, telling him you are going for a drive.

kenma of course protests, but you’re persistent. you grab him by the hand, promising you will cuddle him later if he comes along with kuroo and you, to which he scoffs.

“you think that’s enough to convince me?” he grumbles.

“i see you’re already putting your jacket on,” you throw his socks at him. “i think i have my answer.”

--

you leave the store with bags full of snacks and kuroo by your side, enjoying the crisp air biting at your cheeks. you take a deep breath as you look up at the sky sown with stars, admiring the numerous constellations adorning it. dragging your feet against the concrete, you wish you could stay in this parking lot longer. the tranquil midnight darkness reminds you to relax your shoulders, finding reassurance in the way the gloomy hues seem to engulf your senses. 

a faint sound of a car honking in the distance wakes you up from your trance, bringing your attention back to the gentle winter breeze. you sigh as you watch the broken street lights flicker, barely illuminating the vehicles driving under them. midnight trips to the store have always been your favorite, and you’re more than happy you get to spend them with the people you love the most.

“bet kenma’s fallen asleep,” kuroo chuckles, breaking the comforting silence.

“you think so?” you giggle, turning your attention to your friend. the truth is, you did manage to get kenma in the car after you had somehow established a middle ground. he however refused to enter the store, saying two people were more than enough to get food. you decided not to push him anymore given the fact that he was right, so you left him in the backseat of kuroo’s car.

actually, one of the reasons he wanted to stay home was the fact that both kuroo and you were very indecisive when it came to choosing snacks, and he wanted to avoid the trouble of mindlessly walking through the store longer than necessary. so, when you tell him you won’t take too long, he doesn’t believe you one bit.

rightfully so, you think to yourself when you get to the trunk of the car and check the time, realizing that almost an hour has passed. you feel the guilt stinging at your stomach so you place the bags on the ground and ask kuroo to put them in the trunk for you.

you peak through the window to wave at kenma, only to notice that he was sprawled on the backseat of the car. just as kuroo predicted mere seconds ago, he had indeed dozed off. you grin as you tell kuroo to be quiet when entering the car, to which he laughs, realizing what happened.

you do your best to close the door behind you as silently as it is possible for, well, a car door, turning around to look at the boy you oh so adored. his lips are slightly parted, emitting soft snores, and you can’t help but notice how uncomfortable he seems in that position. just as you are about to take your jacket off to cover his shivering body, he shifts in his seat, raising his head to analyze his surroundings. when he recognizes the interior of kuroo’s car he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall again.

“hi, kenma,” you wave at him, flashing him a soft smile. “i woke you up, i’m s-”

“can you come here?” he cuts you off, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away. “i’m, uh, kind of cold.”

he doesn’t need to ask twice. you immediately move despite the urge to tease him, since this side of him was definitely not something a person could see every day. you love him too much for that, though, unable to bring yourself to make fun of him when you see the way he fiddles with his fingers. his lips are pressed in a thin line, and he looks just a tad too small in his oversized jacket. perhaps he’s blushing too, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to notice it.

the moment you step foot outside the car, kuroo finishes what seems to have been a phone call, placing his hand over his chest when you reach for the doorknob of the rear door.

his eyes widen. “you’re leaving me all by myself-“

“shut up,”  you snort at him, moving quickly to sit beside kenma who has straightened himself up to make space for you. resting his head against the window, he flinches when kuroo enters the car, slamming the door shut.

you stare at him, to which he shrugs. “what? he’s up.”

ignoring his response, you extend your hand towards kenma as an invitation to your arms. he takes it only for a brief moment, before placing his head on your lap, turning his back to you. your hand immediately travels to his hair, the other rubbing his back. “sorry we’re late,” you murmur, squishing his arm.

it’s nights like these that allow kenma to let loose, relishing the familiarity of your scent. a fuzzy feeling travels all the way to his fingertips, which completes itself the moment you link your hand with his. he lets his eyes close shut, the sound of the mellow radio tune lulling him to sleep. what’s that perfume you’re wearing? it’s comforting.

somehow, everything clicks for him. he tries to recall the last time he felt this way, and he huffs when he can’t remember.

you hold his cheek before tucking his hair behind his ear, and he hums against your touch. “aren’t you uncomfortable like this?” you ask. kenma doesn’t respond, which leads you to assume he’s drifted off to sleep.

your question resonates in his ears just scarcely, that being the last thing he hears before his grip on your hand grows weaker, proving your assumptions right.

you turn to look outside the window, counting every lamp post you drive by. this time you can’t see the stars but you know they’re out there, shining in their full glory. you’re not certain if it’s because of the heating kuroo has turned on, or maybe because of kenma’s steady breathing on your lap, but keeping your eyes open gradually turns into a chore and you’re quickly nodding off, too; your heartbeat slowing down to reach a steady pace. you run your tongue over your dry lips as you part them to ask kuroo if he has a bottle of water somewhere in the car, but he doesn’t respond. wait, did you ask him anything at all in the first place?

the rest of the night is a blur; the only part you remember is kuroo practically dragging you out of the car and into the apartment, complaining about how lame his friends are.

he doesn’t let it go the following morning either as he taunts you at the dining table, claiming that falling asleep so early in the night wasn’t a part of the plan.

“let’s discuss the movie, shall we? oh right, we can’t, i forgot you two fell asleep again as soon as we opened the snacks.”

he’s exaggerating, yes, but you still apologize and lean over to give him a hug, when both your and kenma’s phones light up simultaneously. you pull away, glancing at the groggy boy as he idly rubs his eyes in the seat across you, freezing in his spot abruptly.

you reach for the napkin to wipe your hands as you hastily unlock your phone, only to be greeted by a picture of you and kenma sleeping in the car, your hand placed on his back as the other one supports your head against the window. kenma is curled up with his head on your lap, his hands resting close to his chest.

kuroo snickers at the scene unraveling in front of him, waiting for a response from either of you. kenma’s ears heat up at the sound of you chuckling, eyes boring into the wall behind you. you tilt your head just enough to catch them, playfully snapping your fingers in front of his face.

“kenma i might be wrong, but i think you’re blushing,” kuroo chimes, propping his chin on his hand.

you turn off your phone, lightly kicking kenma’s legs under the table. “we look cute though, don’t we?”

“if you say so.”

“call me crazy, but i think i’m kind of third-wheeling right now.”

“you definitely are.”