#totally forgot i could reblog my own posts LOL

[katriniac]

So I find myself simping hard for Artem Wing this morning, and decide to nurse that ache by re-reading my favorite Tears of Themis card stories.

First up is Por Una Cabeza

When I first pulled this card, all I knew was that I was getting ARTEM WEARING A FANCY MASK.

But then I read the story and was confused.

Like, really confused.

Spoilers below the cut if you haven't read this card yet.

This post has two parts. Maybe three if I decide to include the video call? So look in my reblogs for the rest of this recap!

This card's story is set BEFORE they are in an established relationship, before any love confession takes place.

So ... both Rosa and Artem are having similar nightmares at the beginning, but the reader isn't aware they are reading a dream.

Now that I am reading it through again, I can more fully appreciate the other-worldliness of the "nightmare" and understand why everyone is acting strangely with bad memories, lol.

The bright red digital clock face glaring at Tosa in the fancy hotel lobby makes MUCH more sense more that I know it's her own bedside alarm clock she's incorporating into her dreamscape.

Also? ALSO?!? TODAY, the day I'm reading this right now is December 24th! What are the odds! I totally forgot this story takes place on Christmas Eve, because they call the event the New Year's Ball. Idk why... 🤷‍♀️

Anyways, back to recapping my favorite moments:

🥹 @ Artem second-guessing himself, worrying about you, wondering if you're okay, and if it's his fault

Awwwww, Artem!

His pouting face!

That's just like him to be concerned, and to jump to the conclusion that it might be his fault. He also wants to get to the bottom of any problem you have, so he can:

Discover the root cause of "Problem X"

Understand the reason for your distress

And plan for ways to fix/avoid it in the future so you never have to encounter/worry about "Problem X" ever again

Yes, this man is a 'fixer' but he does more than put a cosmetic bandage on things. He wants to make sure you never have to experience that same hurt a second time. He wants to learn from his own mistakes and others to prevent problems in the future. He wants to control the outcome by preparing for any eventuality.

The amount of energy and effort he puts into his "Rosa Long-Game" is mind-boggling.

Okay, I could go on forever about Artem's control issues, how amazing he is, and what makes him perfect husband-material.

So let's not get lost in the weeds out here. Back to the story!

There is this sublime moment where the two nightmares meld, as if the two of them are sharing the same dream!

And they meet FINALLY, after hours of panicked searching and confusion:

So they eventually wake up, and they decide to text the other to see if they're awake, and it turns into a phone call. No biggie. Just a phone call. At 2am. Between coworkers. Talking about their dreams. 😘 Nothing peculiar about that, right?

Everyone does that with their colleagues, don't they??

😏 Sure .... sure.

Next:

We find out Artem only knows one dance.

Which isn't exactly weird... many dudes don't know any dances.

What is odd is the one dance this shy boy knows:

The tango?

One of the most sensual and passionate dances ever?

Really?

Really.

The tango.

That's your go-to dance, Artem?

Okay.

Let's keep reading:

Ohhhhhh.

*BREATHES*

We get a glimpse into their month-long practices.

30 days of being caged in Artem's arms, spending every day after work in close proximity, working up a sweat.

Oof.

And then once you're confident in the steps, the fun part of the "act" both partners must put on to sell the push and pull of emotions.

The haughtiness, the indignation, the desire, the attraction, the softening and relenting at last, all of that passion needed to put on a good show!

Yup...

...Just what two normal work co-workers do on a daily basis.

TOTALLY NORMAL. 😏

*nods*

Yup.

"Suitable tango partner"

Uh-huh.

Artem. Artem! Stop lying to yourself!!

And then there's THIS:

LMAO @ Artem wishing for a weapon to fight off anyone else who might try to take her away from him.

"Everyone will know"

*sucks in breath*

Possessive!Artem is a really really hawt Artem.

Just sayin'

🥵🤤🥴❤️‍🔥🫠😍

AND they mention his adam's apple! Okay, this might not be a turn-on for other people. But it is to me.

I can point at obvious times in my life where I've decided that a certain action/attribute is attraction or sexy. But not the adam's apple. I have no explanation for why I find it mesmerizing!

But bless the writer who decided to mention that specific anatomy in this story! Shout out to you for adding to my swoon! 🫡

End of Part 1 - Check the reblogs for Part 2

[singswan-springswan]

#1, 7, 11, and 17 for the artist asks?

*scrambling as I attempt to organize myself, searching the original post because I totally forgot I reblogged it* Oh kriff oh dear, sorry, just a sec, let me just---hang on *tripping over random posts*

#1. Show your most recent wip

I will add more cats dw I just need to make more room

#7. Favourite works of all time excluding your own?

my guy how could you possibly force me to choose??? I don't keep track of these things as well as I should okay listen my blog is just all the things I like there's no trend especially not with art. like I've certainly encountered emotional, evocative, thrilling pieces of art but did I take the time to put them in a safe spot and save them for later? no the answer is no. anyway here are just a few I like. really any that I have reblogged are already gleaned faves

original posts 1, 2, 3, 4

#11. Favorite comment you’ve ever recieved on your work?

again, how dare you make me choose??? (also high key don't keep track of that). words of affirmation make me giddy so really any positive comment has me blushing and squealing and jumping in my seat. comments that interact with the internal pieces of my art are top tier tho like if they're talking to the characters in the art or pointing out little details I included as a subtle jokey joke/message I will be estatic

#17. What inspires you?

I am my own major source of inspiration. I have so many ideas guys. The reason I started actively drawing in the first place was so I could indulge my own brainrots lol. on the occasion, however, I'll read a really cool fic, or I'll see someone else's cool art and get jumped by that creative drive.

Thank you so much for the ask! It really made my day to see this in my inbox <3

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

If anybody’s wondering what my self-esteem is like I forgot to double the difference in radius to get the difference in diameter and I was gonna say I still think I’m smart in spite of that but now that I type it out it just doesn’t sound as stupid anymore so I guess the real indicator of my self-esteem here is that I thought that was a legitimate reason to doubt my intelligence.

[knickynoo]

Hi, anon about the perfectionist thing. It was in a post you reblogged from @/chickenmcfly1 which talked about Marty’s relationship with his band members and music. Thanks lol

Ahhh! Thank you, I don't think I would have figured that out on my own. Totally forgot about that post. I actually didn't give much thought to the perfectionist thing after I wrote that response, so I don't really have many fully-formed headcanons regarding it. But here are a few:

Generally, I feel like Marty responds to things that are difficult by shutting down/giving up, much like we see after his band audition. His default is "why bother if I'm only going to fail?"

However, I can see his other response being where he becomes sort of obsessed with figuring something out/getting it right. Like, he throws himself into it and can't focus on anything else until either the problem is solved or he feels satisfied with the work he's done.

Like I mentioned in the post you referenced, this probably comes up the most when he's practicing with his band. Marty will make the guys rehearse a song a dozen times until it sounds the was it's supposed to. If the sound is off or a lyric doesn't work, he stops everything so that they can figure it out.

His band gets kind of annoyed at him because of this. They'll be like, "We sound fine, Marty. Chill." But fine isn't good enough and Marty can't chill.

Sometimes this little personality trait transfers over to when Marty is working in the garage with Doc. A piece for a project won't fit where it's supposed to or something Doc is explaining doesn't make sense, and Marty just cannot deal with it. So he sits there, completely laser focused on that one little part or on something Doc had said until either it eventually makes sense to him or he gets so angry that he abandons the task completely.

You had mentioned in your original ask about a perfectionist trait stemming from anxiety, and I can definitely see that (can also see it being related to adhd). Other than being with Jennifer and Doc, Marty is surrounded by a lot of negativity. His father tries to discourage him away from anything difficult and is apathetic towards his problems. His mother is critical and I imagine her pointing out Marty's flaws/lecturing him frequently throughout a typical day. Strickland gets a twisted sense of enjoyment out of verbally harassing Marty by telling him how worthless he is.

All that considered, I could see Marty sometimes feeling so overwhelmed by the fact that so many people look down on him that it fuels moments of obsessive perfectionism. He has to get that song perfect. He has to get an A on that quiz. He has to understand what Doc is telling him so that he can actually be useful in their current project. Because if he doesn't, then everybody is right and he really is a slacker, a loser, etc.

It creates a weird set of extremes, though, where Marty is bouncing between tunnel vision and giving up entirely because what even is the point?

I generally feel that most of Marty's emotions are experienced in extremes. Like, when he's excited, he's super excited--fidgeting/moving all around, asking a bunch of questions, very animated, etc. And when something bums him out, he's majorly bummed to the point of wanting to abandon a huge aspect of his life (music). When he's confused or anxious, he's very confused and anxious--all breathless and flustered, stumbling over his words, seeming kind of frantic. And when he's angry, he just loses all rationality and wants to beat people up.

There is very little middle ground with Marty or instances of him being kind of happy or kind of sad etc. It's all or nothing with that kid. So I think it would make sense then for Marty to have a perfectionist streak that takes over every so often.

Thanks for the ask! (And for helping me to refresh my memory of what I had written in the first place, lol)

[getofy]

as you are loved by another

genre: angst; tsukishima x gn!reader | wc: 1.2k

—a/n: hello! this is long overdue but tysm for 100 followers aaa. it means a lot that people enjoy my stupid headcanons/word-vomits. as a gift i offer you: this angsty kei fic that i wrote in the wee hours of the morning. is it good? questionable. am i happy with it? not necessarily. however, posting this seemed better than scrapping so here we are </3. enjoy!

cw: brief mentions of death/funerals; self pity/deprecation; no spoilers; one-sided pining; hurt/no comfort

—synopsis: in which tsukishima’s not sure who he hates more: your new boyfriend or himself.

edit: i made it so when tsukki refers to ur boyfriend, it’s in italics. im so sorry i forgot to do that before.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

—Tsukishima had never considered himself to be a hateful person, and yet, here he was: laying in bed on a Friday night, thinking about you with him, and allowing levels of unprecedented envy to bubble up in his chest.

This was not how he had expected his night to turn out.

One moment, he had been doing homework at his desk, and the next, his mind was wandering to today at lunch when you giggled after receiving a text message from your insufferable boyfriend. The memory lasted for only a short moment, but it was all it took to make his head spiral. He had tried to control it, but once his brain got going, it was hard to get it to stop; eventually, he had to retire from being productive to rotting on his mattress.

Generally, Tsukishima was good at keeping sentiments such as these at bay. But it’s been getting harder to do that now, especially since you and him have been so affectionate together recently.

The cruelty of it all leaves him feeling burned by the fire of his jealousy, and a natural disaster of his own making plays out in the depths of his heart as he studies the intricacies of his bare, white ceiling. A song by some band he couldn’t bother to remember the name of emits itself loudly from his phone speakers while the middle blocker desperately tries to stop his train of toxic thinking. He rolls from his back to his side and lowers the annoying music’s volume; not even the most incredible lyrical masterpiece could pull him from the devastation the conflagration of his emotions had been causing him as of late.

And, besides, the sound was giving him a headache. He preferred to brood in silence.

The intensity of his feelings irritates him. Despite his outwardly antagonistic exterior, Tsukishima had always believed his tendency for total apathy would take precedent over any other negative emotion—including jealously.

Tonight, however, was proving this preconceived notion of his character completely wrong.

This wasn’t the first time he’d wasted his night thinking about you and him. Ever since the day you had giddily announced your new relationship, Tsukishima had been allowing himself to become more acquainted with the green-eyed monster, and this evening, he relishes in its company more than usual.

Pity parties like this—which was shaping up to be the worst one to date—had been happening to him more frequently. Feelings of contempt had become his newfound obsession in the sense that they consumed his very being. Hating him was easier than hating himself, and he enjoyed it. The only downside towards living so sullenly was that it made him realize that, more often than not, guilt was a close companion of unwarranted negativity.

Tsukishima knew better than anyone else how outrageous his feelings were. And feeling this way did trouble him, but then again, how could he not be envious?

Seeing the way his hand wrapped around your waist. Recalling the way his fingers traced little shapes into your hands. Remembering the way his eyes followed you as you walked out of the room—as if Kei’s hadn’t been the ones that did that first. It was all just too much for him to bear. Knowing that he made you happy in a way that he could not.

The overwhelming knowledge of his inadequacy makes the middle blocker want to double over in anguish, but he won’t, not yet. He is much too proud to allow himself to display such sorrow, so he’ll settle for feeling hatred tonight instead.

Of course, he knows that he’s in no position to be feeling this way. You were never his, and he had never shown interest in changing that. It was only a matter of time before someone swept you off your feet and gave you the affection he had neglected to provide you with. This whole situation was very obviously his fault. If he had been brave enough to confess before he had, maybe he’d be the one you loved instead. Or maybe not. Your new boyfriend was absolutely perfect for you, and Kei was anything but.

This was so tirelessly aggravating. Why did you have to be stupid and date somebody he could never compete with?

White-hot resentment flows through his veins, and he’s not sure if it’s directed at you, himself, or the man you love. Regardless, one more second of this suffocation, and he thinks it’s likely he’ll die by the morning time. The thought of it makes him laugh, and it temporarily lifts the burden on his heart.

Maybe his funeral would be green-themed. That wouldn’t be so bad—he quite likes the color. Or maybe his tombstone would say something like: ‘Tsukishima Kei: A son, a friend, and someone left gasping for air after being smothered to death by the tight grip of unjustifiable envy.’

Wouldn’t that be something?

Tsukishimas mind betrays the light-heartedness of the moment ruined when, bitterly, it wonders how much you’d care if his death—albeit a metaphorical one—actually did happen.

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned, especially now that you’ve got...someone who isn’t himself who would happily help to console you as you grieve. You were always gushing about how your new boyfriend was such a good listener. One kiss from that guy would probably make any pain you felt about his own fictional death go away in an instant.

Not that he would blame you. Tsukishima thought himself to be pretty forgettable. And he was anything but.

Why reminisce on the underwhelming memory of his own life when you had someone who shone so much brighter than he ever could to focus on instead?

He hates this—the way he let it get this bad. What was wrong with him? He was acting like an entitled child watching other kids play with a toy he wanted to play with. And he hated himself for it. You were a person, not a possession. And even if you were, you were still not his to have.

No, you belonged to someone infinitely better.

Someone who made you smile bigger than he ever could. Someone who made you laugh harder than he ever would. Someone who he despised—second only to himself—more than anyone else in the world.

As he rests in the still of his room, evaluating how intelligent he could possibly be after doing something as stupid as falling for one of his best friends, Tsukishima Kei decides that while he may hate your lover, he hates himself more.

A strange melancholy replaces his previous feelings of jealousy, and his typical level of self-loathing cranks it’s way up to 100. There’s a growing ache in place of where his heart should be, and Kei shakily brings his hand to clench at it. When the pain does not subside, he deduces that his current level of grief was inconsolable. Wearily, the middle blocker shuts his eyes close and allows himself to escape to the bliss of sleep.

Maybe, he’d be able to outrun the misery of loving you as you are loved by someone else in the world of dreams.

He hopes he can.

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission.

a/n: again, i apologize for not being super active (mental illness goes hard), but i’ve been feeling better so hopefully that changes! likes + reblogs are always appreciated and feel free to give me constructive criticism (i know i need it lol). i hope you enjoyed.

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[dokidokey]

cabbage babies

－ when bokuto, your usual customer and friend who is a sunshine on a rainy day comes to your store looking like a hurricane brewing, he realizes that maybe getting rejected was for the better.

pairings: bokuto koutaro x kayla (reader)

genre: fluff, angst, f2l

warnings: swearing, an asshole for a customer, a pinch of jealousy, pining, bo gets rejected lol

word count: 4,941

notes: @janellion KAYLAAAAA SORRY THIS IS SO LATE this is inspired by that post u reblogged before, that hcs of hq boys bringing u flowers and bokuto gives u succulents instead! i can’t stop thinking about that :( this is a very very very late happy birthday post (*￣︶￣) happy late late late birthday kayla baby the love of my life i hope u like it (。’▽’。)♡

“Hi Y/N!” Bokuto Koutaro’s voice booms inside the small space of your shop. You look up from the small succulent you are transferring to a bigger pot and smile up at him. “Can I get one of those cabbage babies again, please?”

You throw your head back to laugh, the familiar name he adapted to calling succulents creating a wave of nostalgia to wash over you. The first time the bubbly boy entered your shop and looked for cute, small plants to give to this girl he likes, he pertained to succulents as cabbage babies.

“Hi!” His voice had boomed inside your little shop on a sunny, Tuesday afternoon. He was wearing a loose white shirt and some jersey shorts, a bag hanging on his right shoulder. He anxiously fiddled with his fingers before locking eyes with you. “Do you, uh, have those. . . those plants that look like cabbage babies?”

It felt as though your brain malfunctioned for a brief amount of time. “What?” You said, and you felt more dumbfounded than he was that moment. The boy with gray streaks on his hair looked down in embarrassment. “Ah! Forget I said anything, I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave!”

“No, no, no!” You were quick to scamper over the counter to stop him from opening the door and fleeing. You were. . . quite intrigued about these － these cabbage babies. Sure, many other customers came into your shop calling all kinds of plants these weird names but cabbage babies is new. You’ve never heard that before. You found it quite endearing.

“Can you describe these. . . cabbage babies to me?”

The man happily did with his eyes bright, hands animatedly flying everywhere. You took that time to take him in and you realize just how tall he was. You barely reach his shoulders. God, this man was huge. His arms were nearly popping out of the sleeves of his white shirt. You had to remind yourself that you were supposed to help him with this cabbage babies situation and totally not to admire just how attractive he is.

Or both. Both could work. You were a proud multitasker

He stopped mid-sentence to fish his phone out of his pockets. “Here! Sorry, I forgot I had a picture of that. . . This! These things!” He flips his phone to show you the screen and it displays an arrangement of different kinds of succulents. You almost slapped your forehead for being so slow. Yes, of course, cabbage babies. They did look a lot like cabbage babies.

So you led him to the small entrance of your shop after locking the doors. Not very convenient, you know, that if this overly-enthusiastic man is somehow hiding some ill intent, then you’re screwed. But you can’t think of him that way with the way his smile widened when he entered the small greenhouse in the back of your shop, littered with everything green and growing. He was so eager to jump from plant to plant to examine each one.

“Oh, this one is pretty!” He exclaimed, pointer finger caressing the soft pink tips of the succulent. He looked at you with a smile. “What’s this called?”

“That’s a Sunrise.”

Bokuto bought the little succulent in a pot, bouncing on the ball of his feet as he cradled it in his hands. He asked you what your name was and you asked him his, and that was when he said it was for this girl he likes. You were thinking about how lucky this girl must be, having a guy like Bokuto liking her so much that even the mere mention of her name has his eyes twinkling and his overall demeanor changing in excitement. All the while you were writing his receipt and his little reminder on the neon green sticky note he spotted on your desk and gingerly pointed to, claiming his penmanship is shit and what if she thinks it’s ugly?

He stuck the little note on the pot and went on his way, waving you goodbye. He came back the next week, talking your ear off about how much she liked the succulent. He purchased another one that day, a small cactus called Bunny Ears. He came back the week after that, and the week after, and the week after, buying a Kiwi, Mexican Firecracker, and Afterglow, in that order.

Now Bokuto is here again, his familiar bag draped over his right shoulder, clad in a white shirt and the same jersey shorts he wore the first time he came here.

“What would you want this time?” You ask, wiping your dirty hands on the apron wrapped around you and pushing the greenhouse door open. Bokuto follows you, eyes raking over the countless plants in the small space like he’s seeing it all for the first time. He hums and walks over to the rack of succulents in the corner.

He’s just staring at the pots, hands on his knees, worrying his lip. You’re worried too because Bokuto is quiet. It seems a little uncharacteristic of him to be quiet, especially if it’s about these plants that he loves giving to this girl, who you learned is their manager after a few late walks, talks, and eating out together. You also learned that he is a member of the MSBY Black Jackals, which you have heard before but aren’t that familiar with because you have little to no experience or interest in sports.

“Hey, Bo?” You’re a few steps away from him, fiddling with your fingers. “Is, um, something wrong? You’re so quiet.”

His smile is back at the sound of your voice, like you just pulled him out of this headspace and in his usual, cheery voice, says, “I. . . kind of, want to take her out on a － a date. You know,” he huffs out a breath nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel like she’s not getting the hints of these gifts so might as well tell her I like her and go for it, right?” He beams.

You nod and tell him yes, that’s great, ignoring the way your chest tightens, brushing off the fact that you, unfortunately, like Bokuto Koutaro. He isn’t that hard to like, anyway. His energy is so infectious, along with these little antics that are quite too much but you very much adore. He’s told you one time how some people think he was too much, like Bokuto was something they should but cannot keep from their palms. And they are right. Bokuto is too much, but for you, it is in the best way possible.

You actually met two of his friends before when he asked you if you wanted to eat somewhere after you closed your shop, two weeks ago. He took you to this restaurant called Onigiri Miya, who he said was owned by his teammate’s twin, Atsumu. There, you met Akaashi Keiji, his old setter and vice captain from high school. In the end, Osamu didn’t let any of you pay, saying everything was in the house. You insisted though, of course, but Bokuto, with a very pleased smile, shushed you.

Akaashi even thought you and Bokuto where in a relationship, which hurt, to be frank, on your part, because Bokuto was so quick to deny it. He received quite the judgemental raise of an eyebrow from the younger boy and just a frown from Osamu when he revealed who he liked.

You came back to Osamu’s restaurant just last week, and you love every food that man makes. Literally heaven on earth.

“I’ll drop by again later. Do you want to go to Osamu’s again?” The spiky-haired man who kind of just broke your heart asks. “My treat!” He says proudly, then his smile falters. “If she, uh, agrees, that is.”

You hum, stepping closer to him to take a look at the small grasshopper resting on the large leaf of the Golden Pothos next to your rack of succulents. You were about to answer him when the bell signaling someone entered your shop rings. Bokuto forgot to lock the door, great, and you frowned at him, which he responded to with just a smile before you both went inside.

There’s a man wandering the small space of your shop, whistling as he looks around with his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. Despite the negative energy this customer is radiating, you have no choice but to accommodate him. “Hello,” you greet politely, putting aside the plant bag where the succulent you were transferring before Bokuto came was placed. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, this shop’s got a cute owner, alright,” he chuckles, and you might as well have screamed at him to leave. But you plastered a tight smile on your face as you ask again, “is there anything you want? A plant, maybe? I have－”

You don’t get to finish what you want to say when the sound of his lighter flicking on cuts you off. Your head is quick to turn to Bokuto, who has a frown on his face. You clear your throat and point to the No Smoking sign hanging beside the door.

“Uh, sir, if you don’t mind, if you’re going to smoke, please do it outside. This is a non-smoking area.”

He puffs out a billow of smoke and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to get the fuck out. Customers that do not consider shop owners’ signs and policies are not and never will be welcome in your store. Before you can talk again and try to send him off as politely as you can, Bokuto beats you to it.

“They said get out if you’re going to smoke.”

You almost lose your mind with how serious and scary Bokuto sounds. You always see him with this giddy and happy aura around and to hear him be this serious for the first time is quite unnerving. You are so lucky to not be on the receiving end of this. . . this Bokuto.

The suspicious man clicks his tongue, inhaling and exhaling another puff of smoke. “Ah, too bad. Is the little shop owner taken?”

You purse your lips momentarily before firmly pointing at the door. “Get out.”

“Not the best way to treat a potential customer, hun,” he smirks. Your eyes zeroes in on the ash that falls on your tiled floor. If this fucking man does not leave in the next two minutes, you swear yo－

“Just leave, man.” There Bokuto is again. You thank all there is to thank that Bokuto is here. If this man came in here without him and just you, you aren’t sure what you would do. It’s not like you to judge people easily, but you are always quick to sense if the person is genuine or not.

The man just raises his eyebrows at Bokuto before his eyes flits over to you. He says nothing as he turns on his back and pushes the door open. From behind you, Bokuto notices how you visibly relax as the man slowly disappears from your line of vision. You turn to him with your eyebrows in a pinch. “I’m so glad you’re here, what the fuck, if that man came in without you I’d probably lose my mind.”

Bokuto just smiles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder before placing a large hand over your head and patting the top of your head.

“I told you, you need at least another staff here in case things like that happens again,” he looks pointedly at you before adding in a low voice, “but that should never happen again.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “But I can’t find anyone yet. That’d be more convenient because I’ll be able to entertain more than one customer at a time.”

Bokuto brushes past you to lock the door and walks back inside the greenhouse, immediately cradling a Blue Rose. A grin blooms on your face as you call, “maybe you can drop out of that volleyball career and help me instead.”

There is a brief pause in your surroundings, as if what you said stopped everything and you’re wondering if you somehow stepped over a line, that maybe Bokuto took offense in what you said, but he turns back to you, smiles and says, “yes! I love these small plants, anyways. Maybe I’ll grab Hinata with me and there’ll be three of us.”

Oh. Oh wow. Bokuto is inspecting the tiny plant in his hands with stars in his eyes. He looks ethereal under the sunlight filtering through the glass, his features looking a little sharper than usual. How lucky, you think, that in less than eight hours or so, the possibility of him getting together with their manager will become higher. There’s a little voice in the back of your head quietly wishing it will end up opposite of what Bokuto wants, and you’re berating yourself for being selfish. You’d like to keep Bokuto to yourself a little bit longer than this. You’d like to keep Bokuto without the thought of him sharing what little time he has for you with his girlfriend.

The guilt only intensifies when he locks his gold eyes with yours, eyebrows quirked upward. “Or I can also bring Miyoko-san! We’ll grow cabbage babies together and maybe expand your shop so you can have more plants.” He says it all as if it will happen. As if he’ll really drop his volleyball career to take care of plants with you instead.

You just smile softly, wringing your hands together and trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Are you taking that?” He nods, and you tilt your head to signal him to follow you back inside. You take the stack of sticky notes, which grew a lot more thinner since Bokuto showed up, waiting for whatever he will say for you to write. To you surprise, he holds his palm up, and you look up at him in confusion as you place the paper in his hands.

“I want to write it this time,” his eyes crinkles in delight, “to make it a little more special for Miyoko-san.”

There goes your heart breaking all the way. God, why can’t you have someone like Bokuto do that to you? Why can’t Bokuto do that to you? The things you’d give to experience what it’s like to have him fawn over you like this.

“There!” He rips the small note and sticks it to the ceramic pot. “I hope she says yes,” he frowns, and your melancholy is quickly flying out the window when his hair droops. Nothing in this world will make you panic more than the sight of his usually spiky slacking.

“I’m sure she will!” You’re scampering over the counter the way you did when you held him off the first time he came here. “She’s wasting such a precious person if she ever says no, you know. She’s very lucky to have you. I’m sure she knows just how lucky she is to have you like this as you are.”

Your words didn’t go to waste as Bo’s vibrant smile blossoms on his face. He’s pulling you into a tight hug before and he’s out the door before you know it. You’re left here once again.

Being alone wasn’t so. . . so lonely before. But ever since Bokuto frequents your shop before and after practice, whenever he leaves, it’s as though he is leaving behind a great hole no one can ever fill in. Like he’s taking all the space from you to make you realize just how lonely it is without him.

So you wait, like you always do. You wait for the excruciating eight hours for him to come back and talk about whatever it is that happened during their training. You expect him to come bouncing inside the store all sunshine and wide smiles, but as you’re mopping the floor, the glass doors open and Bokuto Koutaro looks the saddest you have ever seen him.

“Bo!” You shuffle to set the mop against the wall and take his face in your palms. “What happened? Why are you so－”

“She’s dating ’Tsumu,” he whispers dejectedly, his forehead finding its way on your shoulder. There’s an audible gasp from you as the weight settles on your skin, and you notice then that he is still holding the small potted plant he bought this morning, the sticky note nowhere to be seen. You gently take it from him, your fingers brushing against each other before he links his pinky with yours.

You wonder if Bokuto can hear just how much your heart is bartering against your ribcage; or if he can feel the rush of blood through your veins; or maybe he can feel just how stiff you are from your posture. But you let him curl his pinky finger with yours, your other hand cupping the ceramic pot.

“All this time. . .” His breath is hot against your skin. “They were together all this time and I didn’t even know.”

Your voice is soft as you ask, “how did you know?”

“Saw them kiss,” he mumbles.

If this is what it’s like having Bokuto all to yourself without the thought of sharing his time with his girlfriend, then you take it back. This is so much worse than what you expected and the guilt in your chest for wishing he somehow gets rejected is enough to choke you. Just how cruel can you be to ask for his dedicated time when it would mean he will hurt like this?

“Bo,” you whisper. He says nothing. “Bo,” you try again, and this time he hums. “Look at me, please.” The ruffle of his hair as he shakes his head tickles your neck. You have no choice but  to cup your right palm on his cheek to lift his head up, the back of your left hand holding the ceramic pot making contact with his other cheek. There is a glossy haze in his eyes as he stares at you, looking like a lost puppy with the way his hair is frowning.

“Now who’s this sad little guy in my shop, hm?” You pat his cheek gently. “I’ll treat you to some ice cream,” you offer, completely disregarding what he said this morning about going to Osamu’s again. You’re pretty sure seeing someone who looks like Atsumu at this moment is not a good idea. Bokuto’s lips are still curled down and you bring your thumb to the side of his mouth, softly pushing the end at an upward motion. “My poor boy.”

You’re kind of bitter, to say the least. Of what though, you don’t know. Or who. But as Bokuto walks beside you all quiet with his hands in his pockets, an aching hatred blossoms at your chest. You know it wasn’t that girl Miyoko’s fault, or anyone, really, but you don’t know how to project the bitter feeling it leaves in your stomach. Bokuto, of all people? He deserves to be happy. If happy means having a girlfriend and his time and attention for you decreasing, then you’ll gladly take it.

You push the doors of the ice cream shop a few streets away from your store, going for the booths at the back. Bokuto is still quiet and you’re close to pulling your hair out because his silence is choking you. You sit down beside him after handing him his “whatever, you can decide” ice cream.

“So. . .” You start, lightly stabbing your cup with the plastic spoon. “Are you okay?”

That is the dumbest question you have ever asked.

“No,” he mumbles, his own spoon dangling on his mouth, “but I will be.”

God, yes, you can almost cry from relief. At least Bokuto is not as beat up as you thought he is. You hum, taking a bite out of your dessert and turn to look at him. “There are plenty of other people who will be more than happy to love you, Bo. If she’s happy with Atsumu then that is good, right? Maybe she just isn’t the one for you.”

There is a faraway look in the ace’s eyes and you wonder if he even heard what you said. You got your answer when he says, “I know.” He pauses, then sighs, and looks at you. The frown on his face is gone, but he isn’t exactly happy either. There’s just the littlest hint of a smile on his face. “I know, Y/N. And I don’t know, I’ve been having these. . . these weird feelings lately?”

Your eyebrows rise at that. What now? “Like?” You softly prod.

Bokuto groans and presses his forehead on the table, his arms covering his hair. “No,” he whines, “I don’t want to tell.”

You scoff, slapping his arm. “What do you mean you don’t want to tell! You say things like that and now that I want to know more, you leave me out?”

He groans again. He honestly just sounds like a big baby, which he is, but you don’t mind because he’s slowly reverting back to his usual self. “I don’t know if I like someone else or not.”

Okay, wow, well, that kinda stings.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure yet so I’m not going to tell you!”

You huff, dipping your spoon in his cup and spooning a decent amount of ice cream off. “Okay, yeah, whatever, but you better tell me soon,” you glare.

You actually would rather not! But if that person is the key to really make Bokuto happy, then you’re all for it.

It is kind of crazy, and scary too, thinking about how Bokuto was just another customer on that certain Tuesday. The one-time buying turned into daily visits, and daily visits turned into dinners, strolls, to meeting his friends. You didn’t see that far into the future to even consider that Bokuto will be this important in your life, yet here you are. 

And there you are when he invites you to one of his volleyball practices because Hinata’s been pestering him about meeting you. You meet Atsumu and their manager, Miyoko, who is a total sweetheart. And there isn’t even tension between the teammates, all of Bokuto’s heartbreak quickly passing. Oliver, the team’s spiker, even hit you accidentally on the back of the head one time, which resulted in the whole team fussing over you.

It’s been over three weeks since Bo came back to your shop looking like hurricane personified. Today is another Tuesday, a rainy one at that, and you’re fondly looking outside the window as raindrops pelt the ground. Your surprise is evident when you see Bokuto waving at you outside.

“What are you doing here?” You ask quizzically, watching him shake his umbrella before stuffing it on the rack. He grins at you, all sunshine and happy. “It’s my day off!”

“And?” You rest your chin on your palms.

“I’m gonna buy cabbage babies again.”

It pulls a lighthearted laugh out of you. It seems so long ago since Bokuto came here, usually asking for his cabbage babies and nostalgia swallows you whole. It comes with the cold, hard realization that cabbage babies mean he is going to give this to that person he likes.

Your heart cracks in time with the lightning that lit up the gray surroundings.

“So when do you plan to tell me about this person, hm?” You inquire, standing up from your seat behind the counter and opening the greenhouse door. Bokuto follows after locking the entrance.

“Soon,” he says, giddy, “real, real soon, I promise!”

Real, real soon before your heart breaks again.

“Pick away,” you gesture to the succulents awaiting him, and he picks out an Aloe Vera and a pink succulent (not Sunrise.) “You want that?” He nods. You both go back inside and hand him the sticky note that’s been collecting dust on the corner of the counter. Bokuto is extremely hyper today, almost shaking in his giddiness. You huff, resting your face on your palms once again. “You buy cabbage babies but don’t tell me who it’s for. Okay. I’m totally not upset.”

Bokuto’s laughter fills the quiet of your little store, his head thrown back as he rips two notes and sticks it to the pots. “Real soon, Y/N, I promise. Just wait.”

You’d rather not, but you pout in reluctance, nodding. “Ju－”

“’Tsumu’s calling!” He shouts above the loud ringing of his phone that interrupted you. “What? But it’s our day off,” he whines on the phone, and you take this time to admire him again － the quirky arch of his brows, his bright, golden eyes, his lips that almost never loses that smile you love. He’s literally so breathtaking and you have to slowly let this man go despite never having him, in a romantic sense, in the first place. You have to tell yourself that having him like this, as a friend, will be more than enough.

He frowns at you as he ends the call, grabbing his umbrella. “Something came up and now we have a meeting,” he informs, and you purse your lips and nod in agreement.

“You take care,” you bid softly, waving a hand. Bokuto waves too before he’s out of your shop and into the rain. You sigh sadly, staring off outside, the gloomy weather worsening your melancholy. You don’t know how long you’ve been thinking or staring before you lean back on your seat, and it’s then you see the little Aloe Vera and succulent Bokuto purchased, staring at you. You slap your forehead in disbelief, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your throat.

“What the hell, Bo,” you mutter, curiously scooting forward to read the little notes he carefully wrote out earlier. Nothing in this world could have woken you up from your shock, your little heart stuttering in your chest. You shake your head, close your eyes, before reading his writing again.

aloe you vera much, Y/N :) says the sticky note on the Aloe Vera pot. i’d love to raise lots of cabbage babies with you ♡ says the other one.

“Fuck,” you squeak, taking the plants in your hands and reading it again. “Fuck, what the fuck.”

Your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone, ready to call him and demand just what the hell this trick he is pulling but a customer suddenly barges in, and you have you act normal through the chaos in your mind as the old woman asks you three dozens of small, ceramic pots, two dozens of brown, plastic pots, and seven pieces of large pots. After successfully entertaining your customer without breaking a pot despite your shaking hands, you call Bokuto.

He didn’t answer your seven calls.

You had to wait three ungodly hours before he came back, a soft smile gracing his face. “Hi,” he says quietly, gauging your reaction, “did you see the－”

You kiss him. After almost two months of meeting him, you finally, finally did what you wanted to do four weeks ago. His lips are soft on yours, a little hesitant at first, before you move your hands from his cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. There’s a sense of urgency in his kisses, a little rushed, a little fiery, but it was perfect.

He pulls away and nudges his nose on the side of yours.

“You saw, huh?” He huffs lightly.

“I did,” you reply, just as quiet.

“Been wanting to say that since the ice cream shop.”

You pinch the skin on the back of his neck and Bokuto yelps. If you only knew this is how it will end, you would have wished he told you about it right then and there. You would have wanted to know it then. But soon never came this early, and you’re thankful you didn’t have to wait eight, long hours like when he has trainings.

“So the call?”

His eyes are crescent moons in the middle of noon. “No meetings, all plans.”

You shake your head in light mirth and disbelief, pecking him once on the lips before untangling your arms on his neck. He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately before you could fully pull away. Your heart clenches in your chest and it hurts so good. You finally have Bokuto, you couldn’t ask for more.

You grin as you stare up at him, eyes looking like two little hearts. “Aloe you too vera much,” you sputter between giggles. Red smears Bokuto’s neck and ears, and your giggles turn to laughter. He kisses you to shut you up, which is, unfortunately and fortunately, successful.

“So,” you start, wringing your hands together, just wanting to be clear between what this is between the two of you. “Are we, like, dating?”

He tilts his head. “Gotta take you out on a date first though, right?” He beams, and you smile shyly, stomach fluttering with the idea of going on cute, little dates with him.

His phone rings once again, and he scowls as he sees Atsumu’s contact displayed on the screen.

“What do you want?”

“Are ye guys finally dating?” Asks the setter, and you plant your face in your palms in slight embarrassment. It only heightens when you hear Hinata’s bubbly voice in the background.

Bokuto laughs, a warm sound that surrounds the small space of your shop, battling with the gloomy weather outside. “We are,” he smiles, softly grazing his thumb on your cheek. “We are.”

more notes: if there are errors i am so sorry i wrote the first half of this panicking because i missed kayla’s birthday and the other half earlier at 4 am because i can’t sleep lmao

[that-house]

Hey so I hit 100 followers today!

Buckle up, this is gonna be a LOOOONG post.

I quite honestly expected it (while my ego is a little smaller than my jokes make it out to be it is definitely present), I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

It’s not an insane milestone, plenty of people have 100 followers. A hefty portion of my followers are bigger than me. But it’s still important to me. Knowing that there’s 100 people out there who enjoy my shit makes me happy.

First and foremost the credit quite honestly has to go to ahegao George Washington. No, I’m not joking. Until I posted on r/tumblr about my desire to draw that, I had 0 followers. I jumped to like 10 overnight, which was awesome. And then those new followers helped me spread my posts and get more attention.

Secondly I’d like to shoutout @imaverysadgirl and @themeaninglessjumble. You two were my first real tumblr frens. You were the first of my followers to really interact with me. Ember, I’m super happy you’re alive to see me hit 100 followers. Jumble (I don’t know your name unless I forgot it), your art and creations are great and you deserve way more attention.

To all the rest of you, you guys are great, too. Every new follower makes me happy. I’d say I don’t deserve you all, but my colossal ego says I do. Regardless, being nemesi and getting called out for being horny on main and sending and receiving asks has made this last month or so great.

Finally, for all the shit it gets, and for all the shit it pulls, [tumblr] really is pretty dope. I got to meet you all, and it’s actively making me a better person by exposing me to groups of people I’d rarely interact with in real life.

Why does it feel like I’m saying goodbye? I’m not, don’t worry. I plan to stay, and neither death nor pain shall drive me from this hellsite. I’m just saying thanks.

Now with the thanks out of the way, I want to talk about myself a little. Just the stuff that I’ve always wanted to say and never quite gathered my thoughts and found the time to talk about.

You’re gonna get to know me so well! This is like a mini autobiography!

First off, my mental health. This is something I don’t talk about much on this blog, mostly because it doesn’t need much talking about. I’m doing pretty well, to be honest. I have a smattering of anxiety and I’m maybe a little too introverted for my own good, but I’m not suffering from depression and the only time I ever even remotely considered suicide was when I just really really didn’t want to go to French class. COVID has been great for me, since I don’t have to see people. I suppose I’m not a great person to talk to if you’re struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, seeing as I can’t personally relate, but I’m still always here for you guys if you need me. Just because I haven’t lived through your experiences doesn’t mean I can’t try to help.

Next up I want to talk about my sexuality. This one’s a bit of a mystery. For the past 16 years of my life I’ve considered myself 100% straight. But lately (let’s be honest, following the release of Spirit Blossom Thresh) I’ve been wondering if I might be bi. How many times can I joke about wanting to smash sexy boys before it’s not really a joke anymore? And if I am, a lot of things would suddenly make a lot of sense. But every time I think I have it figured out it suddenly feels like I have no clue what’s going on. Regardless, my sexuality has honestly never been a massive part of my identity (though I’m definitely not asexual, my friends can attest I’m far too horny for that). I have no clue if I’m bi and for now it’s kind of a fun little adventure!

I guess I’ll talk about school and stuff now. Believe it or not, I’m kinda smart. I’m taking a shitton of AP courses this year. But I simultaneously feel like it’s too much and not enough. I’m smart, but I’m not a great student. Compared to my dad, who graduated college with a 3.98 GPA (and his only B being in History of Canada as an American) and now has a super well-paying government STEM job that he loves, I feel like even if I work my ass off I’ll never quite measure up. And my parents have had super high expectations of me, and it’s only recently that they’ve started to accept that I might get some B’s here and there. I’m worried about all the homework this year. I’m a year ahead in Math but I don’t feel good enough at math to be taking AP calculus junior year. I’m worried I’m going to get like a C. But for the most part school is alright, too. That’s sort of the trend in my life. Everything’s alright.

Time to talk about my love life! I have no love life! I’ve been single for 17 years and probably stand no chance of changing that until at least college! Haha I’m so alone! But I can live with it. Growing up an only child with a few friends means that I’m pretty good at functioning without a ton of social interaction, and, while I’d like a partner someday, I’m not desperate. I can wait until I find someone. Pretty much my goal is not to die alone.

Onto sports maybe? I played soccer for most of my life, and was always the worst player on the select team. I was too good for the normal team and not good enough for the select team (kinda like math). Soccer was really toxic, especially when you’re the worst player on a team of high school jock drug addict boys. So I quit, and started playing frisbee! It’s a lot better. The people are nicer! But my first season never happened because of COVID and now I’m in my Junior year and haven’t played much frisbee! So I kinda suck! But I’m physically fit and that’s good enough for me! On my own time I bike and run to stay in shape.

Are you still with me? Now I’m gonna talk about my hobbies and things!

I’ve been playing video games for a long time. I kinda suck at them to be totally honest. I probably have below-average reaction time, and my parents only let me play 15 minutes a day for most of my childhood, so I have a lot less practice than most of my friends. I’m pretty slick with Swain in LoL tho.

This next part is borderline shameless self-promotion, but since the Kickstarter isn’t live yet I guess it doesn’t count. I’m making a tabletop role playing game! I’ve been working on it for the past few years. My goal is to launch the Kickstarter prior to my college applications, because that’ll look sexy as fuck to potential colleges. It’s a post-apocalyptic sci-fi game where you play as supersoldiers trying to reconquer the wastelands of Earth for humanity. I’ll do a big post on it when I launch the Kickstarter, and I guess that’ll also be a full name reveal (kinda spooky since my full name is ENTIRELY unique and one-of-a-kind. More ego boost lmao).

And finally I want to talk about my art and writing. I’ll start with my drawing, and finish off with my writing, since that’s what I’d most like to be known for on here (but that’ll never happen because my caveman brain shitposts are too funny).

So I’ve been doodling for a long time. I briefly got formal art training but sacrificing my Saturday mornings to draw what someone else wanted me to make so that I could make better stuff in the future didn’t appeal to my 8-year-old brain. I draw in the margins of worksheets. I draw on random sheets of paper. Recently my parents bought me a drawing tablet, and I’ve been trying to improve at digital art. I’d say I’m getting better, but I don’t practice nearly enough. All in all my art serves its purpose. It makes people laugh and can sometimes creep people out. It’ll never go in a museum, and I’ll never make money off of it but whatever.

And finally, my writing.

How can I talk about writing without talking about reading? I’ve likely read more books than both my parents combined, and if not, it’s close (and my mom is a prolific reader too). I have three bookshelves in my room and books on every surface. You can’t follow me for long without seeing a post ranting about my latest read. I love to read and I read incredibly fast. Reading spurred my love of English class, which in turn helped me write.

And finally, we get to writing in and of itself. I’ve been writing stories since I was a little kid. I’d like to think I’ve improved a fair bit. I’m still no novelist, but I consider myself a fairly adept short story writer.

But I suppose where my writing really stems from is my bed. Every night while I’m lying in bed, I tell myself stories until I fall asleep. I work on a story until it’s done or until I get bored of it. Along the way, in the shower, on my bike, I build the world of the story, crafting the plot. Sometimes the stories are elaborate fanfictions of my latest reads. That’s probably how they started. Often, they’re unique worlds all of their own. My current writing posts are about the City of Mammon, but my current story in my head is about some vampires who hunt other vampires in Victorian England.

And now we get into the process of writing. It’s fun! I sit myself down with an idea in my head, and use all the fancy words I picked up from my books to convey the vibes I want. I honestly wouldn’t be a great writing teacher. It’s just a skill that comes naturally to me as a result of what I’ve been doing with my free time my whole life. And it’s beautiful. And every time someone compliments my writing or reblogs it, I love writing just a little bit more.

Well I guess this is it. The 100 follower special. I wonder how many of you guys will take the time out of your day to read this. Hopefully a lot!

James (or That House) signing off for the night!

<3 thanks guys

[winnerloser]

idk who needed to hear this today but 

if you use fanart for anything, you give credit for it.

usually i would just implore you guys to at your own discretion but. 

i think sometimes people forget that if you use fanart without explicitly asking for the author’s permission, that's stealing. but obviously no one has ill intent behind it with this hobby, which is why crediting is important. it’s the least you can do.

it doesnt matter how much you use the fanart. even if it only appears on your blog once. even if it’s just a throwaway icon for a gag. even if you replace the icon with new icons from somewhere else. if it was on your blog at some point, and you don’t intend on deleting it, and it’s still on there, you give credit for it.

there’s maybe some leeway if you commissioned the art and/or the artist already cosigned you to using it without giving permission. but that’s the only special instance i can think of.

in that same vein, please just look on artist’s profiles to see if they allow reposting in the first place. if their account says no reproduction/no reposting/DONT USE MY ART.... don’t use it. if the bio is in japanese, chinese, korean, whatever- google translate it. i know google translate can suck but it’ll easily convey what you need to be looking for. 

if you’re one to think that you don’t want to use source media like screenshots or mangacaps because fanart is prettier, don’t ignore the fact that the people providing you the luxury to do so are just that- people, who spent hours to draw what could amount to just one or two icons. who could’ve drawn what you were using as a commission for someone else. who more than likely posted the image without any idea what you’re using it for-- more importantly;

without any idea what you’re using the image to represent, what messages you’re trying to convey- with their image. the fact that the subject is a copyrighted character/isn’t theirs doesn’t change the fact that the drawing in and of itself is still their creation.

it would behoove you to start keeping tabs of the sources you intend to pull from. if you see a piece from pixiv you think you’ll consider pulling from- pluck it, save it, so later when you open photoshop you’re not sitting with the pulled image thats titled computer jibberish with no artist’s signature.

YOU KNOW WHAT? i’ll go you one even better than that.

When you save an image from pixiv - this one for example, by default it’ll save it as 78827921_p0_master1200.jpg.  78827921 is the image ID. https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/78827921 will take you back to that image. Plug in any other ID, and it’ll go back to its source. There you go. Easy if you accidentally forgot to keep tabs.

nobody is entitled to the usage of another person’s art, and if you use the excuse that [just by virtue of OP posting it on the internet, it’s free gain], that’s bullshit.

if you post anything- even a text post or roleplay thread- going by that same logic, anyone should be allowed to reblog it, remix it, go to town on it; it’s on the open internet, after all... right? No. you’re entitled to security in the things you post. you don’t really need to say “don’t/ask to reblog” in the tags for people to get the hint to not or ask first if they feel inclined to. if you believe you’re entitled to that comfort and respect, i don’t see why that mindset can’t be translated to fit the situation of artists. even if you don’t give a shit how your stuff gets circulated, at least try to look at it in the way that not everyone is you.

and not everyone is me, so some may be wondering still why they can’t just go ahead and do what they want so long as they’re not hurting people/keeping it lowkey. i mean, at the end of the day, there’s nothing i can do about it either. you can totally do whatever you want, im not denying that. but just know that you’re not 100% in the clear from getting discovered by somebody. you’re not impervious to being found. and reposting/art being used or transformed without credit or consent is a very real reason that artists get upset or even sometimes lock their profiles, delete, or stop drawing/posting, or stop making their art publically available. this is NOT just a western philosophy. asian artists do this just as well- hell, you could even say that some are even more stringent about etiquette when it comes to treating their works with respect. that includes reposting policies.

if you’re too tired/busy/lazy/forgetful/cursed to credit, that’s 100% not an excuse lol. or if you’re thinking, crap, i have all these nicely done assets that i’ve created but it’ll be too difficult to go back and retroactively find the sources!

idk what to tell u but tough titties bro thats a you problem*

uh, so to end this:

再版ポリシーが破られている場合は、お知らせください。すぐに画像を削除します。このブログから利益を得ることも、失礼することも意図していません。再版は許可されているが、クレジットがない場合は、お知らせください。修正いたします。ありがとうございます、失礼します。

如果违反了您的转载政策，请告知我们。我会立即删除图像。它无意从此博客中受益或无礼。如果允许转载，但信用不正确，请告知我们。我会马上改正的。谢谢，不好意思。祝好

this is in my credit’s page at the bottom. i can’t vouch for the japanese, but i can say with more certainty that the chinese is legible. if someone is better at japanese and has any adjustments they’d recommend, please do so! it’s just saying that i don’t intend to cause harm or disrespect by borrowing the artwork, and that at any of the artists’ discretion, whether i’m violating their repost policy or not, they are urged to reach out to me and tell me to remove their art if they don’t want it on my blog. feel free to snatch it and use it for your credits page, or write something similar in lieu of that. i’m 100% in support of that.

please be conscious and considerate of the people who work hard and do a good deal of the heavy lifting for you to be able to make your blog pretty and aesthetic in the first place. i think the bounty of beautiful and high-quality art for the pokemon fandom- or for any popular fandom for that matter- sometimes makes us forget that it isn’t a commodity. it’s something that when taken for granted, can genuinely affect others who work hard to provide content for people to enjoy. at the end of the day, they do this to make themselves and others happy. seeing others take that work without any acknowledgement to them is demoralizing, don’t think that they’ll get enough recognition from others to compensate for you. that’s frankly not how posting art on social media works at all.

i mean, even if this doesn’t convince you, i can only hope it’ll spur you to be more conscious in the future. 

*i get that things happen and this isn’t meant to shame you if you happen to be one to do any of the things other than credit. but know that you don’t... really have an excuse when there’s so many different options, shortcuts and alternatives available to you. you don’t really cite from a shitton of different sources for your paper and then go back to pick through every individual quote to find where it came from to avoid plagiarizing. you just.. make a note or works cited. it takes like, 15 extra minutes. if you’re going to spend hours on photoshop or writing fancy infoposts, you can spend an extra 15 making a works cited.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was). 

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you. 

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ? 

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots. 

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds. 

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute. 

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time. 

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen). 

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence. 

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment. 

Broken glass. 

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was. 

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude. 

There was glass everywhere. 

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune. 

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ? 

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting. 

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it. 

A guy. 

Not just any guy. 

You saw that guy before. 

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !! 

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities). 

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore. 

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ? 

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving. 

“…Outch.” 

Oh. He spoke. 

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something. 

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine. 

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon. 

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks. 

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road. 

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge. 

“Tough day ?” 

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell). 

************

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream. 

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared. 

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?  

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet. 

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself. 

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be. 

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation. 

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope. 

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself). 

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ? 

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago. 

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”. 

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage. 

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says : 

“Wow.” 

************

So. This was surreal. 

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood. 

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well. 

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened. 

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily. 

“Nooooooo !?!” 

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.” 

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!” 

“What an ass.” 

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.” 

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?” 

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.” 

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping : 

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.” 

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily. 

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break : 

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…” 

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot. 

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care). 

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ? 

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot. 

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch.  It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines ! 

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up. 

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex. 

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is. 

************

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened. 

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him. 

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because…why were you frowning ? 

He tries to lighten up the mood and says : 

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”  

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird…. 

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say : 

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.” 

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.” 

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.” 

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.” 

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?” 

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…” 

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.” 

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.” 

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said. 

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe. 

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful. 

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before. 

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says : 

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…” 

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.” 

“I guess…I never thought about it.” 

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.” 

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.” 

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.” 

“I heard you kill criminals.” 

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…” 

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk. 

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon.  Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots. 

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”. 

“She was a wise woman.” 

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. 

“Who ?” 

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.” 

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.” 

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?” 

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?” 

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?! 

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?” 

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?” 

Jason hiccups slightly, and says : 

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.” 

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things. 

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together. 

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy. 

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy. 

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least. 

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.  

Your heart wasn’t broken.  

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

“My heart isn’t broken.” 

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot. 

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”. 

************

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere. 

Nope. 

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love. 

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation. 

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope. 

Nope. Not because of this. 

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you. 

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok. 

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons. 

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex. 

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

************

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all. 

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you. 

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it. 

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you). 

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking. 

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened. 

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons. 

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles). 

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong. 

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk. 

You were just…Special. 

************

It was surreal. The all thing. 

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life. 

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed. 

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened. 

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening. 

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting. 

Sharing your anger and frustration. 

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you. 

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name. 

************

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone. 

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons. 

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go. 

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued. 

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture… 

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again. 

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again. 

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not. 

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting. 

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right. 

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone. 

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out. 

And the tequila is all gone. 

************

… 

…

…

…

Days pass by in a blur. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget. 

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of. 

This entire night was weird anyway. 

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ? 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*. 

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?! 

You open your door quickly, and… 

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.” 

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes. 

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans. 

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet. 

“Yeah, you did…come in.” 

************

Jason Todd. 

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago. 

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together. 

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne. 

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized. 

Jason Todd. 

Now you know his name. 

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”. 

Jason Todd.  

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends. 

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you. 

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best. 

Jason. Todd. 

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says : 

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…” 

You smile. 

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you. 

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake. 

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to. 

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you : 

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”) 

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.” 

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging. 

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3. 

[emperorren]

I know a lot of new shippers came along after tlj and don't know the true craziness of antis, but 2018 was still a frickin mess! For example, November(i think) last year, antis invaded the reylo tag with total bullshit. it's better now that tumblr have sorted out the tagging system, so posts stay were they're meant to, but last year wasn't all sunshine and roses. So shippers who say they're post tlj still should have been around for that shit show.

that’s just a fraction of what the overall discourse was in 2016 though. I mean, main tags can be avoided (I never go there, for example, because there’s too much trash to begin with, antis or not). But in 2016 my entire dashboard was like this. Half my mutuals were like this, general sw blogs couldn’t be trusted, Leia fans couldn’t be trusted, Anakin stans couldn’t be trusted, and bloggers I previously loved suddenly started paying lip service to anti rhetoric calling us sickos and abuse apologists and internalized racists and so on. And I had it relatively easy, compared to other shippers who got death threats and triggering content in their inbox.

The "let us all hold hands and sing the kumbaya" attitude from TLJ Reylos is extra annoying when you realize that many of them were casually liking and reblogging antis' vitriolic posts between TFA and TLJ. I have seen so many of them humorously admitting to it. "Haha I used to think Reylos were crazy but after TLJ I was like hot damn their chemistry is great!"

That’s true. I’m glad that at least some antis came around and fell in love with the reylo dynamic, and I believe in redemption arcs lol, but some OG reylos were actively bullied and doxxed and suicide baited and they 100% have a right to avoid contact with people who previously supported or tacitly tolerated that kind of behavior.

I was in a GC for another fandom last year, totally unrelated to SW, but when I offhand mentioned I was a Reylo it turned out a couple people in the same GC were antis and shit hit the fan. The highlight was prob someone who I thought was my friend bringing up a selfie I’d sent her of me and a male friend at a concert, and trying to use that as “evidence” in an argument that I was straight and he was my boyfriend. Because, you know, a Reylo has to be lying about being queer, because of Reylo

Oh anon, I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s shitty. It’s literally doxxing, and a horrible betrayal of trust on your ex-friend part. Queer Reylo erasure was unfortunately very common in anti circles. Antis seem to think only white cishet normies can love Reylo---not because it makes any sense, of course, but because it’s the demographic they know they can relentlessly and remorselessly bully while still pretending they’re woke and fighting for a good cause or whatever. And when they’re presented with evidence that actually a lot of Reylos are queer, or non-white, they either assume it’s a lie or bend over backwards to prove that those Reylos have “internalized” -ism.

And what you said describes very well the atmosphere many of us found ourselves in---with people you thought were your friends, or at least nice mutuals, suddenly turning against you or supporting discourse that painted all of us with the same brush as racists, misogynists etc.

I'm so so glad new reylos don't have to deal with the toxicity now that was felt back then. I was new a few months before TLJ came out (mostly because I completely forgot SW was a thing & then I fell upon the wonderful OG reylos' meta), and even that brief amount of toxicity drove me to delete my Tumblr account. I made a new one since then, but I still feel too nervous to make any posts of my own. I tend to just reblog everyone else's thoughtful posts. Thank goodness for blocking buttons & tags. 

I think things changed not just because Reylo got objectively more mainstream and is practically canon now, but also because there’s much more honest discussion about the toxic aspects of this culture. And we Reylos had a part to play in this. We fought back (like other *problematic* shippers did), and we forced anti culture to reveal itself, rather than keep lurking and infiltrating fandom discourse in a underhanded way. We made block lists and recognized potentially toxic patterns in bloggers with a certain theme or certain buzzwords in their blog description. We engaged in public discussions and more and more people started coming out and denouncing how uncomfortable they were with anti arguments. When needed, we closed our ranks and made it clear antis’ feedback on our shipping activities was not welcome. In short, not only we created an environment where our ship could thrive, but we contributed to the rise of an anti-anti culture, which is strongly pro-inclusiveness, pro-intellectualism, pro-intersectionality, pro-nuanced meta analysis, whereas classic anti culture is getting old and relies on the same stifling, reactionary arguments from 5-6 years ago.

[flippyspoon]

Lol I almost forgot to make my own thing.

AHOY!

I’m participating in Harringrove for RAICES! That means I’ll be writing fanfiction in exchange for donations to RAICES for Texas which provides legal services advocates for the rights of immigrants and asylum seekers.

I’m asking that you donate money in exchange for me posting my work.

Follow these steps if you’re interested:

Reblog this post with a donation amount offer and your request for fanfic/art/etc, following the suggestions below

Send me an ask too, so I can acknowledge that I’ve seen your donation and will start working on it.

I will be accepting donations until midnight est of 12:00AM EST 8/27/19

Wait until I reply to your ask, then you need to make your donation to https://www.raicestexas.org/

Donate!! Remember PLEASE to screencap your receipt – you need to send me this to show you’ve donated so we can all track how much we’ve raised as a group.

Don’t forget to block out any private contact details you don’t want me to see!

Once I’ve seen your receipt, I’ll start work on your project will be posted by  12:00AM EST 10/01/19

What I have to offer: Fanfiction for donations!

What I Like to Write: I love to write fluff or flangst (fluff/angst), smut is also fine. I’d rather not write hard kink (light BDSM is alright) and I don’t know anything about ABO. Other than that, I’m wide open. No non-con. 

 Accepting prompts? Yes!  You can also leave it to me, but I will take prompts.  If you don’t have a specific idea, you could also just say, give me fluff or hurt/comfort or Christmas or whatever.

Additional Info:  Please specify if you want smut or no smut. I’ll be capping my contribution at 10,000 words of fic total.

Suggested Donation Amount:   $1 per 100 words of a fic. This means you can donate $10 for 1,000 or $20 for 2,000 or more if you’re feeling very saucy. Or $7 for 700- whatever.  Feel free to donate more for less!

[classictombraider]

@noficbyhalves​ This might be a less popular opinion, but I don’t think multiplayer and Tomb Raider are necessarily mutually exclusive? In this hypothetical scenario, I’d kind of like to see it, just not implemented in the garbage way it is currently. Like I remember someone had set up a mod so multiple people could play in tr4 I think it was, or like how TRAE was rumored to be able to, and if they designed a few levels/an expansion pack around it I think it’d be pretty cool.

Or a completly different idea: You and your friends spawn in on opposite sides of a big ol’ tomb map. Your objective is to get to the treasure that’s vaguely in the center before anyone else,  but there’s a catch: your weapons won’t work on the other players. By exploring and solving puzzles, you can release enemies or spring traps that can get in other players’ way.

(Also completely unrelated but the classics’ PC controls are goddamn majestic and I refuse to hear otherwise)

copied from http://noficbyhalves.tumblr.com/post/182281930175/if-you-were-in-charge-of-the-next-tomb-raider to save reblogging my huge post lol

I drafted this then forgot to finish my reply, so sorry this response is a few days belated! TR is a single player game and I cannot imagine it any other way. You’re on your own, with only yourself to rely on and figure out what to do.

By introducing multiplayer modes they’re including something entirely different to single player. So many single player games have multiplayer shoehorned in because “people want it!!”, but the multiplayer aspect never has any relation to the single player aspect. They are just totally different game styles. Instead of concentrating on the main game or making a multiplayer that’s more unique, like you suggested, they redirect that time and effort into a generic deathmatch that will be dead within a few months. I think single player and multiplayer games should be two separate things because they just are two unrelated things to begin with.

By adding co-op and having your friends helping (or in my case, always being a hinderance lmao), they remove the sense of isolation and working things out on your own. Even in AOD where you could play as Kurtis, you could never play as both Lara and Kurtis at once. Legend was single player but with Zip and Alister constantly in your ear it was very grating and verging on the “other people are ruining my game” feeling. I just want to be left to my own devices and to get on with it.

I unfortunately can’t find the actual picture, but hopefully upon seeing this very accurate recreation somebody will know the one I mean and send me it please!!. The first pic was TR1 and the second pic was the multiplayer from 2013, cluttered with all these different notifications. Feel like it explained my POV pretty well! It was like:

Bigger version of second pic here lmao: http://i.imgur.com/OH7CA.png

Haha! Definitely just depends on what you played first I think! I played Assassin’s Creed 1-3 on PC, so 5 games with the controls ingrained into me. Felt really natural and didn’t have to think about it for a second. But when I played the PSP game and demos of the PS3 games, the controls felt really wrong. My brain/muscle memory knew what I wanted to press, but obviously that is different to Playstation controls. I had to think about what button I had to press even though they’re always right there in the corner!

[yumichanhamano]

1-12 and 50 for the fanfic writer ask 😘

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Oh geez, I was about 15? I was inspired by great things other people made 😘

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

Currently I'm writing for the Guardian fandom! (Most just weilan really lol) Though I don't really have time to write, I do sometimes write for the Miraculous Ladybug and Owari no Seraph fandom. (But no time to do anything really OTL) But as for a favourite, I probably have to say the OnS fandom just because I've been writing for the fandom for so long (and so much) and my switch to Guardian is still relatively new!

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

OCs. I find reader inserts a little hard to write? Also I just make up characters if I need to slot someone in and serve my purpose to move the plot along haha

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

Romance LOL Most of my fics are relationship based with the occasional one that isn't.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Oh no, why do you do this to me... uhhhh

I think I would choose the one I never finished or posted. It's about arranged marriage and the two fall in love as they work past their own past trauma. I chose this one because it was going to be a really long fic with three arcs. Also I'm weak for domestic fics and children, which this fic would have both lol still working on the domestic part since they just moved in together and trying to figure out their place within the relationship and what they mean to the other person. Maybe I should adapt this into weilan hahaha

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

HAHAHA that implies I didn't already 😂 Which I have... but uh, I had this really bad idea of writing a "sequel" to this one anime I watched as a way of coping with how I wanted to just live in that world a little longer. Needless to say, there was too much worldbuilding and the fandom was pretty dead so I just deleted it from existence haha

7) When is your preferred time to write?

Night time, around like 9? I usually don't write until after midnight sometimes, but no time now with school and all OTL

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Everywhere 😂 From songs, to shows, to prompts on tumblr, heck, I even get ideas just because I like a certain concept like what is person A was stuck in a mirror (which is an idea I have to flesh out but had like two other ideas with the same concept lol)

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Ah, I'll go with the one I completed most recently: Uncovering the Truth

It's very different from what I usually write, because I actively choose to not write dark theme fics lol But my favourite scene would be the last part. I had the perfect scene planned out in my head where they have the confrontation, so I hope I conveyed it well to the readers!

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

Haha, going by the same fic again: I did have an alternate ending where Shen Wei would avoid answering any questions, keeping everything a secret, but it felt unlike his character in the fic. He didn't think he did anything wrong, so there was no need to hide the truth.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I don't think I ever received such strong criticism that made me amend a fic. It's usually just grammar or spelling errors if that counts haha

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

From Guardian, I would probably say Zhao Yun Lan. His character is quite eccentric and fun to play with. Also if I ever think "would he do something like this?", the answer is likely yes LOL

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I actually read this question when I reblogged it and thought about it so I'm really happy someone asked haha

I personally would choose fluff, because fluffy domestic fics are my jam!! I love them so much ahhh But the easy option would be angst because my brain is wired for angst for some reason OTL

Thank you so much for sending in the ask 😘 I answered half of these before class but totally forgot about it until now hahaha

[megaphonemonday]

I forgot to check my activity page for a while and therefore did not realize that I’d missed quite a few replies. So, I’m sticking my replies in one post and putting it behind the cut. Sorry for getting to them so late!

@osmarinamo replied to your post “omg these snippets are killing me! how about almost kiss + aroused by...”

OMG! If you dont give us a part 2 to this story, I'll I'll...cry... 😢😢😢

I hadn’t thought about it, but maybe I could cook something up...

@ladyinredfics replied to your post “54 and 91 for mike and Ginny with maybe a little”

I probably shouldn’t have read this sitting at a table with my in-laws, LOL.

Hah! Maybe not, but I respect your poker face if that worked out for you 😏

“I wish I could explain to you how much I appreciate your writing and...”

Still reading, still trying to write here I’ve just been blocked in general. I put the show on my kindle to rewatch on vacation for inspiration.

Oh, I totally get that. That’s what these trope ficlets have been for me, trying to brute force something out of my brain. Maybe I should sit down to a rewatch soon, too. Fingers crossed something gets knocked loose for you because I do love your fics!

“Mike's bobblehead dressed up as Han Solo is everythingggggggg. I'm...”

Seriously, Star Wars Night is Mike’s favorite. Post retirement he dresses up in costume and goes to the stadium to be part of it. He doesn’t advertise it, and usually wears a costume with a mask so he isn’t recognized, but he doesn’t deny it if someone does figure it out.

For sure! He must’ve been so excited when MLB started doing them, though I’m sure he also tried to play it cool; he probably thought he had to protect his rep or something. And that idea is adorable! He misses dressing up for the ad spots he always talked his way into doing, and getting to be in the crowd is a very different from experiencing Star Wars Night on the field. 

“If you were the one writing pitch and it’s hadn’t been canceled (��)...”

I’ve thought that business might bring them in touch again, with both of them owning auto dealerships.

Oh, that’s so good! I hadn’t thought about that as a possibility, but now it might be all I think about? I’d considered Mike maybe getting into the business because of Dave—he had a family and kids and his own car dealerships, maybe that’s how I get it, too?—but spinning that out into the future opens up all kinds of opportunities for angst.

@hermiginnyharvelle replied to your post “@perfectblue: 12 + 60! (Bawson, obviously!)  roommate au + poorly...”

KEYBOARD SMASH

Thank you!!

@masterclassinprocrastination replied to your post “62 and 70 for bawson!”

A full fic dedicated to Evelyn’s match making shenanigans is a gap that deserves to be filled! I love this!!

Unfortunately, it’s not all about Evelyn’s matchmaking abilities themselves. More like the consequences of them? But they still definitely come up!

@lerayon replied to your post “That gif of Mike is too damn sad. He looked so guilty about leaving....”

I can't read or reblog this because I can't open up the Mike Lawson Feels Floodgates. But I support you. 💙

I can definitely respect that, especially since I’m still trying to close those floodgates 😭

@everylastline replied to your post “I wish I could explain to you how much I appreciate your writing and...”

I second this. If you knew how much I refreshed your page you’d file a restraining order. We ADORE YOU! You keep writing we’ll be reading and rooting you on! 💓💓

Aww, thank you!! And I probably wouldn’t, haha. That’s pretty much exactly what a writer wants to hear!

@cheremary replied to your post “That gif of Mike is too damn sad. He looked so guilty about leaving....”

So much yes to all of this, but especially SF and the Break. His struggles with his body breaking down, yearning for love (with Ginny, Rachel, his parents)...some truly heartbreaking moments in there, but it makes me love the man even more

Those two episodes are peak sad Mike Lawson. He so clearly wants to keep playing, and will lie to everyone he can if it means getting to do it. You’re very right, though. The heartbreak is what makes us love him so. 

[f1nalboys]

31 (i love keiji but i gotta know if you have any more ocs!! if not i would just love to hear more abt keiji) and 34 ❤️

SO SORRY THIE TOOK FOREVER OMGGG i totally forgot i reblogged that last night LMFAO but here we go >:)

FANFIC QUESTIONS

31. do you have any ocs? tell us about them!

first of all i’m so glad you love keiji?? i need to write more for him (i have a fic in the works involving him and amber (bex’s oc who i’m in love w) so hopefully i get it done soon lol)

i have a few ocs but keiji is, at the moment, the only slasher oc! i was watching Fallen Angels (1995) and saw Takeshi Kaneshiro and literally lost my mind over him

ngl, i had a dream about him and that’s how i came up with his backstory 😭 it took months of trying to figure out who he was and why he did what he did before i even posted him but tbh i’m so glad i did bc when people send in questions about him it helps me develop him even further ❤️❤️ if there’s anything you wanna know about him in particular please let me know i love talking abt him hehe

34. copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly proud of

OK SO THIS IS KIND OF A HARD ONE??? but this is what i decided >:) it’s from my randy fic (bc ofc) based on the song Like Real People Do by hozier (link is the fic) and this paragraph just kind of stuck with me for some reason

Was he funny? Was he a protector or a coward? Had he been loved like he should have been? So many questions, none of which could be answered by his gravestone. A slab of grey, it was intact unlike the others that surrounded it. An alien head was carved into it, the black eyes of the creature catching your own. Underneath were the words ‘Do not weep, for he is a lightyear away,’ followed by his name and the date he was born and the date he died. 

still waiting for my alien face necklace to come in the mail so i can pretend he bought it for me 🙄

[standing-in-the-rain29]

Interview Tag

Rules: Answer the following questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

I was tagged by @ladyknight-keladry ! Thanks for tagging me, though I fear my answers will leave much to be desired 😬😂 But let’s do it anyway! Here we go:

Nickname: I have a few. The most common is Jess. My mom calls me snugglebug, and my little sister likes to call me muffin-head lol

Pronouns: She/her

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5’ 4”

Current Time: 10:38 pm ... I really need to go to sleep since I have work in the morning. Oh well!

When is your birthday: January 29

Favorite Band/Group/Solo Artist (I grouped these together): BTS, American Authors, Imagine Dragons, Red, Halestorm, Disturbed, Godsmack, Bad Wolves, Daughtry, Demi Lovato, Alesia Cara, The Score, Ava Max, Sam Smith, Daya, Adam Lambert, Halsey, GIMS, Tiziano Ferro, and many more lol My tastes vary with my daydreams at the moment :)

Song Stuck in my Head: My Head & My Heart by Ava Max. Specifically one line: “My mind’s got a mind, mind, mind of it’s own right now and it makes me hate me”

Last Movie Watched: X2 My mom, little sister, and I are watching the X-Men series, so, yeah. We already did Marvel, so we’re making our way through this series before moving on again lol

Last Show Binged: WandaVision. I waited until the entire season was done to watch it, and I binged all of then in two nights 😂 I’m thinking about waiting for TFATWS to finish too before watching? But ughhhhh it’s tough waiting! I love Bucky.

When Did You Creat Your Blog: July 2, 2013. OMG So long ago! My posts were ... interesting back then lol I went through phases, which I guess is t any different! But at least they are healthier?

Last Thing Googled: Toshiba tv reseating cables ... our tv has a wide blue line going down it, and I was trying to figure out how to fix it 😩😩 I’m gonna have to finagle and try things I’m it sure I’m good at. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it’ll be interesting.

Other Blogs: Nope! I’ve only had this one! Cuz I’m weird lol

Who Chose Your URL: Me!! I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out back then and randomly chose it because ... rain is awesome lol Haven’t changed it because I don’t like change.

Do you get asks: Sometimes? Not often, which is both good and meh. Meh because I do like the attention, I think. Good because I am so awkward! My mood changes a lot between hyper/confident so I say whatever and don’t care what people think (right now for instance) to overthinking/low self esteem where I don’t know what to say, don’t want to say something wrong, get an answer wrong, and so on. It’s rough. My mental health is a slippery slope. Whelp.

How many people do you follow: 167

How many people follow you: 186!!! Holy cannoli guys! Thank you 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗 I honestly don’t care if people follow me or not. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of making friends on here, but this blog is for me. My safe space where only one person in the world knows me in real life (and she’s never on lol), so yup.

Lucky number: uhhhh 29?

Instrument: Hah! That’s funny. Me? Play an instrument? Nah. Took a piano class in college as an elective ... played by ear and got by, but don’t remember any of it!

Currently wearing: I’m in bed, about to sleep, so my pajamas. Which is basically a huge shirt lol Not that you needed to know that ... I may delete later tbh

Dream job: Man ... I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure this shit out. All the stress. But if money wasn’t an option ... something with the ocean. With animals. Idk what exactly, or where, but I seriously love the ocean. It’s calm yet unforgiving. I don’t live by an ocean, but I would love to. Just ... not where hurricanes hit lol because fuck that.

Dream trip: Shark diving with great white sharks :) Or something my little sister wants, and therefore spend time with her and my family while having fun. Both are good.

Favorite food: CHOCOLATE! I love chocolate. No lie. So good. Pizza, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, salad (yummmmmy) ... basically carbs, cheese, chocolate, and some healthy things lol

Favorite Song: Why. How could you? Why put me in this situation! My mind went completely blank! It changes constantly. Depends on many things. I’ll give you my top 5 songs from last year on Spotify: ON by BTS, What About Us by P!nk, Ya Habibi by Mohamed Ramadan (totally found this on accident while looking for Nicky/Joe Old Guard songs and omg yesssss!), Daechwita by Agust D, and Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.

Top three fictional universes you’d like to live it: Sooo. I have literally no idea??? Are we talking movies, books, shows, all of the above?? Ahhh. Guys. This is stressful. It shouldn’t be, right? Idk. I’m going to skip because I have no clue, and it’s stressing me out. Sorry?

Alright! That was a wild ride. Now it’s time for me tag people. If any of my followers want to do this, go for it! And for those I tag, you don’t have to do it! Here are my tags: @alona-marinelli , @spookydefendordreamer , @justagirlwithhercat , and @just-a-rather-ace-ravenpuff . So like. I’m tired. And tagging isn’t hard normally, but right now it is, so sorry if I forgot anyone that I talk to, that reblogs me a lot, that I reblog a lot, or so on. If I forgot anyone, I’m sorry! Please do it if you want to, or not! You do you. All the love xx 🤗🤗🤗