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#ITS BEEN YEARS AND IM STILL EMOTIONAL ABOUT THESE OLD MEN

artsymeeshee · 15 days

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*Alex (from the interview) talking about Stan and Ford out at sea* “I can kinda write stories about them as a duo forever, because you can always excuse them both getting hyped on a bad idea for their own reasons, and then you can always come up with a reason for them to disagree about it, and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves but they are also so damaged they desperately need each other.”

Me:

#WHEN I TELL YOU I CRIED #STOP 😭😭😭#ITS BEEN YEARS AND IM STILL EMOTIONAL ABOUT THESE OLD MEN #PLEASE #I NEED THESE STORY IDEAS ALEX #I’m very emotional 😭

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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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kosmicdream · 2 months

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Please don’t think of me as a male artist.

..is what i used to feel, for many years, even when I finally came out as trans. In a way, its one of the factors that kept me from pursuing HRT (which im so glad i finally did.) After only one year, my feeling on this hasn’t evaporated completely but i suppose I kind of don’t care anymore about how I am interpreted, as a person/artist, ect.. It isn’t something i can be in control of anyway, which upsets me less than it used to.

Sometimes in the past, the way i write characters has often been analyzed by the gender I am, or appear to be - that my male characters were written like how a woman writes men (too emotional/vulnerable, ect) , or how my female characters are written thoughtlessly- like how a man would. (too horny, stupid, violent, ect.) Its not a new way to analyze a story but I can’t say that it doesn’t annoy me. It could still be true that my characters/writing could fall into sexist/problematic archetypes, but gendering my work based on the way my characters act always reminds me of the “you draw like a girl/boy” comments, which used to be more frequent when i was a teen.. But the idea that boys = angular, good at cars! Or something and girls are, i dunno, gonna draw sexy anime men or something. Even as a teenager, i hated this idea that my art was “girl art.” Truthfully, i always viewed my art and myself as an artist as genderfluid, maybe even a type of drag performance, where i can explore any gender and not be limited by my body, it was my escape from that. Which naturally, it became my place to explore gender presentation and eventually helped me “crack my egg” of realizing i was a trans man.

I do think its important to reflect or regard my work as the art made by a trans man, or transmasculine person. I feel more and more just like “just a dude” these days. I am also a gay man. I think those things are important to my work. I think that the analysis of my work in regards to my identity as a person is important to reflect on. I also think the steps I took to get there were important, that transformation and my continued exploration of my older selves and more “label-less” self in the art i make. That’s a private space for me, that I happen to share with the world too. I feel the audience is part of my work too, I welcome it even. I have become part of the audience too and I look at my work as if I’m also a stranger. The older my work gets, the more of it I can study, the more I can see plainly how I got here and also it feels so confusing how it did. I try to study my art to help me find where I want to go to next, a map to guide me.

In some ways, I feel more lost than I did before, where all my instinct was pushing me was just to grow and explore as much as possible. Now, I don’t have that same type of energy that I used to. Its not a bad thing, its just different. There’s a sense of duty and commitment and a sense of dread of the time it takes to do what I feel compelled to do on this step of my journey. I am trying to focus more on the things I used to think I was incapable of before and I’m trying to remember the things I used to think were so effortless. I can tell my art is sharper but it feels almost like a mimicry of my older selves - at least when I revisit old work to continue its journey past where its been frozen in time. Comics take a long time, after all, it's normal that after a few years - a story might be yours, but it feels like it belongs to the past of you too, maybe more than it does in the present. I like the commitment I have to my comics though, its not a burden to me. The feeling is strange anyway.

I tend to think that 1-3 years of a project being made, those are the honeymoon years of the relationship. But you hit a wall in 4-5 years and sometimes you’re in denial about it, you try to keep the dreams and feeling alive as you drag it forward, and sometimes the project really reaches its end around 8-10 years and it becomes a type of empty promise to return to it. Not that this is true for every artist, every project, ect. But I think its a natural lifespan for comics that I’ve observed, and it's because it is uncomfortable to face morality and the morality of our own art. Art is this escape, and when it becomes a job - or an uncomfortable mirror into these things about ourselves, about our failures and promises we couldn’t manage to make, the pressures of the audience, the boredom of the task if you have already told yourself the story a thousand times and you have no longer a desire to continue it, ect - its a normal and natural feeling to want to drop it off a cliff. Blow it up, start over fresh - I know the feeling! Its happened many times. But its kind of temporary? Then, it cycles back to nostalgia - and the desire to create and recreate and reform the past to something tangible again.. uh

Sorry, sorry.. I am getting far from the point I started with. Not that any of this makes too much sense, I feel like writing it anyway. It bothers me that the fantasy of art to me, is the ability to dissolve yourself and stop existing, you are the creator creating. You don’t need to be confined by, really anything. It is in “your control” now, and you surrender your own control by falling into the art and letting it “lead you” places. This is a very seductive process and while it might temporarily be fulfilling (even when done for a lifetime) cannot really.. What.. completely fill the void of whatever you’re chasing down there? Its nice though. At least, when I think about when i first started drawing comics, it was to draw Vash the Stampede (from the original 98 anime series, i hate the new one. We’re not talking about there here) coming out of my television after a thunderstorm and he had to just live in my house now. It was the closest thing I could do to actually manifesting that as reality, of making this amazing anime husband come to life to just like live with me now and be my boyfriend. In a lot of ways I don’t see my pursuit of writing ocs, specifically male ones, really much different from this same desire of like “i can just make my perfect boyfriend!” born out of the loneliness I felt in my heart, and the fear that there is no boyfriend out there for me so i need to frankenstein my own - and this boyfriend will be poifect in every way. Or like, crafting the perfect “relationship” in replace the lack of one, or just the fantasy of watching very abstract extremes come to life in various puppets i crafted, beating the shit out of each other for entertainment. But to subject all these.. Abstract Internal conflicts as simply like a “boy author thing” or “girl author thing” is like.. Tiring. Are we really not past that? (Of course not.)

Like there’s some hidden truth to the way someone might write/draw, the way that “makes sense” in retrospect once the identity of the author is analyzed and discovered.. How can you make sense of the self, let alone the other .. and In a way that’s permanent? And gendered? Does art now have an inherent sex characteristic? But I cannot deny that I do want my art to look and feel like part of who I am, what I have chosen to sexually identify as - a transgender, a man, a faggot. I DO identify as a sexual deviant, but that is hilarious because I have been single for so long at this point I can’t even remember in a tangible way what that felt like and I question if I ever felt it or experienced it “for realsies” because of the experiences I have had or havent didn’t feel very fulfilling or romantic, despite that being something I desire so much - and so I feel like a failure. And to create art just based on the fantasy of desire rather than the lived reality, can it even really display what that would actually be like. So its embarrassing, right?

I have worked on my art a lot and I have often thought, or come to the conclusion (true or not) that my singleness is the result of my pursuit and dedication to art - which is the pursuit of self isolation and protection from harm. From influence, from acknowledging that life can exist and someday end. And when you work on projects for years and years, the pride/shame dichotomy only gets more.. Weird. It gets weird, guys! It always was weird, but.. I just think about so many my heroes, my art inspirations, working decades on their art.. I follow in their footsteps too and it feels scarier and lonelier than I expected it to be. And the more and more I realized that as a reality, as my 20s faded away, the more I kept walking. I wasn’t gonna stop now, even if I could, I don’t want to and its not hard to do other things too. I have a slower pace than I used to (thank god) and gets slower but I’m still moving.

I don’t post or write my little art journals as much as I used to. Mostly cause I don’t really have anything good to say and it kinda feels embarrassing to post them too LOL. But.. whatever!! Its been a weird four months of me being off work and I’m about to go back to being a normal working person again.. But its like, its weird to tell people about your art when they ask about what you do. Its like “oh yeah, i draw webcomics” and they wont get it, you’ll say - “yeah its 8,000 pages long” and they’ll say, “thats a lot!” and it is. They’re very nice about it, but there’s a lack of satisfaction there with what that means. I don’t expect it, that’d be dumb as hell. Its nice to take a break from it too, to discover other sides of myself I never let shine because i stayed indoors for a decade, but its a weird feeling too. Like, what will it mean in the end? I don’t really know.

I don’t think I need “success” to feel like this was worth it, its not like a trophy is gonna come in the mail for the good workTM I’ve done - there is no closure to the work I make even when a story finishes. I have to keep going regardless of that, and its strange to know it won’t ever feel done. But I am so thirsty for that temporary itch to be scratched, it keeps me working every day for the “maybe” of what that might feel like. Kinda silly, really. Is it my “male” pride that demands recognition? Would respect be given more freely if I had “remained” to be perceived as a woman, for subverting the expectations for what a woman can/can’t write? (lol) Is my value as a person determined by that sort of thing in my art? I don’t think of my pride as gendered, but I know its there and I know because of who I say I am, my pride will be gendered by others. I think when I was a woman, that pissed me off more than now because.. Well.. I wasn’t even living as the way i wanted to. I still don’t really live as the way I want to, the way I want to be perceived, but even being on HRT for a little more than 1 year, without much else lifestyle changes, I feel a little more at peace not mattering what others will take away from me or what i write about. I have a lot of my own expectations for myself and what i write about and that concerns me far more.

I don’t really know how else to end this, I’m going to eat chocolate now. Oh, to answer your question (?) if you might have this one: can I think of you as a male artist, kosmic? sure. I am one after all.

#whoops! long post #its very rambly sorry #webcomics

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electraslight · 1 year

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I care about ur Bevin headcannon I would love to hear

YES i finally get to yell abt these two, its my fav ship in the series idk why people arent more into it. Fanart is supplied as usual and i have some evidence-ey screenshots under the cut, mostly bc i want to share them w SOMEONE other than my friend blue. Enjoy my ramblings

-kevin is dating both ben and gwen, gwen and his relationship being a lot more outward and public and ben a more private relationship, they only ever kiss or hold hands when its just the two of them or (rarely) when gwen is around, partially bc of bens fame and his own hangups about liking men and partially bc when they are romantic they r extremely vulnerable with each other and thats the sort of thing they wouldnt want anyone else to see.

-(quoting from a discord dm w my friend) ben and kevin violence is something that if u saw it in a painting or a movie it would be rly profound and aweinspiring. in real life its also the same, but it feels so much like intruding when ur actually watchingbc kevin and ben have all their emotions about each other in v short bursts, theyll bottle them up 4 an extended period of time and then have som e massive cataclysmic event when it bubbles to the surface. there r literally no continual emotional moments between them like kevin and gwen who have contunious small emotions abt each other, kevin and ben will hang out 4 months at a time and then one day just start hitting each other, which is in a way a part of the romance

-in omniverse theres a scene where its shown that 12 year old kevin is in possession of a photo of ben that is suspiciously well worn, it has rips and stains and has been crumpled up and refolded a couple times. I like to think he kept that photo, whether to use as a beacon of hate or chew on and cry who knows.

-ben and kevin dont give a shit about what form the other takes, the only time ben has ever blushed about a guy is when mutant kevin grabbed him in the rooters arc and kevin is around alien versions of ben every day and doesnt bat an eye. This is why i think that once kevin and ben get together kevin makes a game about kissing all of his aliens (indiscriminatley. Even if they dont have mouths) he makes a scoring system and writes reviews on how good the experience was in glitter gel pen and makes a ranking list of his favorites. Stinkfly sweeps the vote, shocking everybody. Ben would rank kissing kevins mutations but only 2 out of 5 would even consider it before turning him into pink mist so he just sticks with what he knows.

- ben and kevin get married when theyre older and gwen stays in girlfriend status (mostly bc she knows that ben has a much shorter lifespan than her and kevin and she wants to give him the happiest time she can while hes still there) and they all live in a mansion the size of the white house. Kai comes by once a month to keep kenny happy (he still thinks shes his bio mom even after theyve told him multiple times she was just a donor. Gwen says he gets his delusions from ben). Ben and kevin like to sit on the 500 foot long porch and throw rocks at passerby and snuggle. Kevin is so happy he giggles mindlessly to himself in public, scaring strangers. He tries to get them to look at pictures of his family but this only further creeps them out.

-kevin finds the most random shit ben does extremely charming. hed look at him picking his boogers and eating them and he thinks in his head i need this guy so much. ben finishes a rubix cube not even very fast and kevins like wow. cool. do you like emos.ben is charmed by kevin in the same way. he sees kevin use the toilet brush to scratch an itch on his back and hes like fuck oh fuck oh fuck

I have more i prommy i just cant think of them rn, i will make more if im able. 4 now please have my collection of bevin screenshots under the cut. Spread the word my disciples. fair warning there are a lot

#ben 10 #ben tennyson #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 alien force #kevin levin #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 classic #ben 10 uaf #ben ten #bevin #ben 10 headcannon

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artinandwritin · 1 month

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For the ask game 6, 10, 11, and 14... hopefully those can fill your time but let me know if you need more lmao!

AGH TY for asking so many!! Im certain ill be able to fill a lot of time with those <333

6. Favourite ships; like i mentioned on your post, for me it really fluctuates what ship is in the front of my mind on any given day. Ofc, hiccstrid is a big one (theyre really good to me personally) and I'm currently also in a big snotstrid mood bc of my friend @spacenintendogs 's dragons off the coast au! (Also p l e a s e if you aren't familiar yet with dragons off the coast im begging you to look into it, its such an interesting take on a modern au and Rose's writing and worldbuilding is absolutely phenomonal). Fishlout also takes up a space in my heart, adore them so much! The dynamic is so good.

Ruffnut and her army of men is also so good, and the dynamics she has with Eret, Fishlegs and Snotlout is really fun and has a lot of potential. Tho i do also think she and Heather have potential. As do Eret and Heather! That whole group can just be mixed and matched together haha. Heather and Fishlegs ofc is also wholesome, they deserved more than this!

Due to me being so involved in the oc side of the fandom and being a really big supporter of everything oc (which is common knowledge after 4 years of this haha), I also love a lot of people's ocxcanon ships! Such as Rose's oc Ermintrude and Snotlout, @nosuda-cringe 's oc Mayeth Vang and Snotlout, and ofc the ships you've hinted and teased in otwd (zephbal save me... save me zephbal. I think about them a. Normal amount. Same with castav but i wouldnt let them save me, they need to save themselves first), plus a lot of others. Theyre all very dear to me <333

10: favourite songs from the soundtrack; OKAY so ive actually got history with this! When i was about 13-16-ish i had music classes as part of my middle school experience (lmao) and we were given the freedom to do any project we wanted. In those 2-3 years i used the httyd soundtrack twice for projects!

First I used Forbidden Friendship (that song man. That song) as like. An underbeat or smt? To add things on. Im sure it sounded horrendous and y'know the other kids in my class laughed at me bc of me using an animated movie's soundtrack, but the song did remain a favourite of mine and still is.

The second time I used the soundtrack was just after the third movie released! We were once again granted freedom and I decided to learn Once There Were Dragons on the piano! (Im not certain i still know it LMAO its been 5 years, this was even before I learned about OTWD which is in hindsight pretty funny)

Ofc once again the kids around me weren't amused and I couldn't play piano to save my life (my hands are too small to reach the octaves needed which. Sucked haha) but i had a lot of fun and the song really stayed with me throughout the years, it always brings me at least some sort of emotion <3

11; favourite locations; OH gotta be Old Berk and Dragon Island. We spend so much time in Old Berk during the shows and the movies and the form of the island is just so... memorable, in a way. In school of dragons, i always loved climbing the Great Hall up to Gothi's little hut haha. Miss that silly little island.

Dragon Island is soooo underused but i adore the implications sm! Like, the Red Death's corpse is there (and we all know how much i love environment changing giants) and we haven't really seen it since RoB/DoB. Underused location in my humble opinion.

Honorable mentions to Berserker Island and the weird treasure island from rtte season 1. They really slayed haha

14; favourite animation style; everyone knows i'm a big hand animation girlie so I have to go for those little moments in the franchise where more 2D animation is implemented (like in Fishlegs' leadership dream and the Boneknapper special). The keyframing and the subtle movements are really worth analysing and i absolutely adore how it's used. A real treat for us animators! (Special mention to the animation that's been going around from the live special, so good)

As for 3d styles, I have to say the first movie. It has a very raw edge which i love and it gives everything a great feeling. Plus, the animation error during forbidden friendship they left in the final cut owns me <333

#ty sm for asking!!! i had sm fun with these #the animation question got me HYPED #And i always love thinking about the httyd ships and the different dynamics every one could give #really brightened up my morning ty!!! <333 #httyd #how to train your dragon #ask game

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deepseacityunderground · 3 months

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i did a pokeymon tierlist that took me three hours to do ;-;

i put it and explainations under a cut because its so big lmao. if you want it to not be blurry then open it seperately in desktop idk

lesbian tier: self explainatory (ill explain why i like them so much later)

my babies: good designs, sentimental, AND i like fighting with them

sentimental tier: various favs across the years, theyre more individuals than species to me because of my memories with these guys.

i wish pokemon were real: for pokemon that make me say "i wish pokemon were real"

ebic: i like them lots and i like to have them on my team

the funny little creatures: i smile when i see them and i like them

intriguing: hmm there is something here... but i'm not quite getting it maybe?

not rlly interested: this one is self explainatory... if ur fav is here im sorry :( im sure these guys are cool i just dont rlly think about them ever

fucked up: i dont like seeing them they make me uncomfortable

scyther was my first partner in my first pokemon game :) it was diamond. i overtrained scyther way too much and he (because it was a boy scyther) would do that thing where he doesnt listen in battle so i build his entire moveset around it. he was lost when i transferred him to heartgold and then dropped heartgold in some water. rip scyther always in my heart

togekiss was my friend alongside scyther. she was the first pokemon i ever trained up to lv.100. she was also a victim of the heartgold incident. rip togekiss always in my heart.

absol was the only one from my initial gamebeating diamond team to survive the incident. she was transferred over to my copy of platinum and after i ended up losing diamond, remained there happily. i dont want to transfer her to bank or home because i think itd be like moving an old cat to a new house. i dont want to upset her at her old age. also absol's design fucks. emo fringe lynx. absol is what sparked my emotions about dark types. also i played pmd1 as a kid.

gengar is gengar. also i played pmd1 as a kid and read a copious amount of fanfic focused around pmd1 gengar (everyone go read pmd victory fire now it doesnt even matter that its on forever hiatus and ended with a cliffhanger go read it)

the tentacool variations are here purely out of sentimentality. when i was much younger, id let my little sister borrow my copies of the gen 4 pokemon games. she was really young and didnt really care about rpgs in general at the time, so shed always just explore and catch random pokemon instead of actually playing the games. one time, after i got the games back from her, i looked in my pc and saw like. two full boxes of tentacool and tentacruel that shed caught. and they've all got nose themed nicknames like "nosey" or "nosenose" and other stuff like that. so apparently she was surfing about and saw a tentacool for the first time and was just. obsessed with how they looked and thought they looked like big noses (with the red spots being like nostrils i think) and just decided to catch loads and loads of them because she liked them so much. so it became an inside joke between us. i dont really have much in common with my sister anymore and our relationship is pretty cold rn but pokemon is the one thing we still hold in common. and ill always associate tentacool with her.

we all know why grovyle is where he is. same with dusknoir. theyre also good designs.

i really dont like enamourus because its fucked up how they designed three big buff genie men and then made one that was pink and skinny. awful. makes me angry. if they were buff theyd be one of my favs tho.

i really dont like the pla designs for dialga and palkia... theyve already both got very busy designs and i think these forms are Too Busy. i really wanted to like them but well... i look at giratinas two forms and cry over what could have been.

i dont like the tumblr sexyman lizard.

a lot of pokemon are in higher tiers cus theyre based on animals i like... i like a lot of cat pokemon for this reason. also i like the litten line cus it fucks. and my litten in sumo was a female and i like the idea of big buff wrester catgirl :3 incineroar is a really good design and shes big and strong... whats not to love.

also, i generally like a lot of designs which other pokemon fans dislike... i especially love more humanoid/furry "feminine" designs like primarina, lilligant, gardevoir, lopunny, tsareena, etc etc... i really dislike how a lot of these designs are just seen as like sexygirl designs by the community... sadly porn will exist of everything but these pokemon are also creatures. theyre animals. they may look a bit like a girl but they are still magic animals. like one time in moon i had a whole team of grass girlies and it was just fun to hang out with my funny grass lady creatures.

i like giratina because theyre a big ass antimatter caterpillar. drawing giratina helped me draw antropomorphic caterpillars actually. i like their big ass legs.

all eeveelutions are CATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the lunar duo are my ultimate fav pokemon forever as a team for a big mix of all the other reasons. partly its sentimentality, cus i really liked them as a kid and i would always chill on fullmoon island in my copy of platinum and just listen to the music, i also always tried to do the void glitch to get darkrai but i always fucked up and never quite saw her! (i couldnt do the event cus living in shitty rural region reasons) i also liked battling with them in oras :3 i think their designs are very well done. they remind me of the "swan" series by hilma af klimt specifically, which is a series i really liked on its own. i dont think that was intentional, but i was looking at the work about a year or so ago for an essay and i sorta realized how well the overall color palette of that series matches the pair and cresselia specifically, because shes based on a swan ofc. and ofc darkrai is also birdlike but in a more abstract way. she actually reminds me a bit of the skeletons of one of those really fucked up breed pigeons with the receeded necks and huge fantails and tiny beaks and weird spindly legs. i also really like how unabashedly edgy darkrai's design is... i feel a lot of nostalgia for edgy character designs from the mid 2000s which were edgy in a very un-selfaware way (another reason why i like absol specifically and also like. so many ghost and dark types) and as an angsty kid i always used to gravitate towards those designs lol. i also think its kinda romantic, the idea of a creature which kills others simply by being around them, a typhoid mary type creature, which isolates itself due to that, with its only friend also being the only creature that negates its negative affects. and also that creature killed a kid in america (fucked up). thats how i interpret their relationship. anyway ive been having lots of thoughts about them for like over 15 years.

this is unrelated but its kinda annoying when ppl use gendered pronouns for genderless pokemon... its not gonna ruin my days its just. funny lol (ignore that i have used she/her for darkrai throughout this entire comment... when i do it, its ok <3) one of the sad flaws of the pmd series imo bcus the mainline games dont do that at all.

in general i think my likes and dislikes are more dictated by character design/sentimentality as opposed to ability in battle or fanservice or competitive meta ... this is just part of being a longtime fan who doesnt rlly keep up with the community anymore methinks. im kinda beating myself up for not putting more complex thought into this buuut also i wanna be true to myself yknow... but then again this community sucks so i feel like im gonna be attacked for putting idk wingull too low or something lol

#please dont hate me if i put your fav low... this is just my personal opinion!#all creatures are wonderful in their own way <3 <3 <3

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ssreeder · 2 months

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HELLO

I didnt see that there was an update until now and i dont feel like discording and i just read the new chapter so here i am with my few main points bc i dont feel like doing a full live reaction👍👍🫶

Seeing Jeeto come into play in any capacity at all makes me feel like a proud parent watching their children grow. Its always wonderful like those are my emotional support middle aged fictional men. I watched them go from conspiracy to getting crumbs to now their "dates" and gossiping together. Youve gotta love it. Those are my children. Im so proud of them. But im also scared because you killed shen so obviously my feeligns mean nothing to you 🙄😒😒. (Im never going to get over that, im going to be 80 years old in some pst apocolypic enviroment with horrors all around me, but im going to be having nightmares about shen. Ill send you my therapy bill) (im going to get a tattoo in his memory istg)

Also its always really subtle but its funny to see your specific linguistical patterns in liab esp because i can never really explain it. Like ill read a random sentence and be like 'yeah that seems like sreeder wrote it' i just think its neat.

I also really loved zukka this chapter. But i always lovr zukka so its not a surprise. But espesially this chapter because its mostly soft zukka.

"Do you think we will stay together" NO Zukko divorce 🔫🔫. 🙅🏻🔥🔥🔥🙅🏾

The 'moving forward' ness of zukka in liab is so nicely written. Like ive been reading liab since (almost) the beginning and it has been a ride and its starting to feel more conclusive and that is SCARY but its also nice because you write it very well and i adore the way you write trauma and the healing of it and the ups and downs and the two steps forward two steps backness. Its very lovely.

I knew ara was going to have a suicide attempt (esque situation (idk if that counts)) i called it i win.

Idc what others say ara will always be amazing. I love her character SO MUCH

i feel like you can always tell the strengths of a writer in the way they write complicated characters and the way you write ara is very telling of that. Like the fragility and also harshness used for her is very realistic and i always enjoy her parts so much.

Like her deciding to move on independant of how zuko or sokka feel about it is and regardless of whether people thinks she 'deserves it' is immaculate.

And thats a good example on your specific strengths as the author of liab (being able to handle delicate situations well, and realistically and make them very thought out and not rushed, stuff like that).

But her 'i need to start getting along with other girls' is great because like,, RHATS SO TRUE. she is genuienlly one of my favorite characters of all time, i could write essays on why i love her. Exquisite.

REHO MENTION 🥳🥳💪💪💪💪

Thats my emotional support woobified early 20 something year old man. I adore him. If 30 people love reho i am one of them, if one person loves reho i am them if 0 people love reho i am dead (rip rehoes 😔) i will defend his (and aras) good names until i die.

Amazing chapter as always 10/10 *chefs kiss* im so excited for the series to finish and see what you do with everyone and the rest of the storylines and such.

Every time I think of Shen’s death I think of your utter devastation & how I wasn’t expecting you to be so distraught over it. I will say I had another commenter lately who was talking about how much they liked Shen & wanted an Iroh/Shen/Zuko dynamic and I kept thinking…. Damn it buddy, you’re going to be soooo mad at me in a few chapter haha…. oops.

ugh my linguistic patterns haunt me and I specifically ask my betas to check for them because I feel sooooo repetitive sometimes especially when there’s a lot of introspection lol. So it’s funny you mentioned that lol.

Omg I remember when I was still on RIA & someone in the server was like “dude I’m rooting for some jeeto.” & I was like oh no how do they know??? I created this fun divide between hakoda and bato just to push Bato into Jees arm!! Don’t spoil it haha, but whatever at least Dentys dead

Awwww thanks for the compliments it means a lot coming from you <3 but also yeah Ara is my delicate dumpster fire who says she going to make her existence everyone’s problem (most importantly sokka because damn girl could just LEAVE but she refuses lol) I love it. She’s fun, and any scene with her expect utter chaos haha.

every time I write Reho in a scene my mind says and the crowd goes wild,,, he’s annoying but I’m glad you like him.

thanks for this amazing ask you’re awesome

#Haha maxxxxx you’re so funny #I am forever a fan of Ara and her ability to harass sokka while constantly saying she’s not going to harass sokka #Zuko: “I just…. Never want to see you again”#Ara: got it ok so I’ll go make friends with sokkas sister and hangout with the water tribe healers and suki and -#No wonder sokka starts foaming at the mouth every time he sees her #I still don’t think zuko has nearly as big of a problem with Ara as sokka does #I truly think she’s just “that bitch from prison”#& sokkas got like 43 fake scenarios saved in his head of how things could have been different or how he would get his revenge #Anywayyyyyy I like Ara she’s fun #& Katara deserves to have some fun!#Thanks for the ask max sorry it took me so long to answer I’m a loser I have no excuses #LIAB #leaving it all behind #ITF #ask #Maaaxx

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 3 months

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Mild Confession

From 2023 i looked at my experience with men and i've dealt with a few traumatizing situations but i still can agree that i have to discern and choose better.

I hate that i've had to accept that as apart of my reality but the truth is men or women aren't going to protect you if they dont think you're a good fit... and what i mean is based off the traumatizing situations i been in its like a fish being 'baited' by a shark..

so it caused me to go into celibacy and just staying away from men in general.

the last time i been with a guy, i had to cut it off short because i mentally couldnt take anything that was going on in my past and just wanted to move forward. nothing he did, just thought it would be best to let go.

so i've been sitting with myself and having to deal with my emotions. im practically really old school... and thought for 'love' i'd let it go. the past few years have been something. 20 yr old me was right. all this time. i thought i was 'shallow' and people were telling me i was doing too much but in retrospect i was doing ENOUGH because it PROTECTED me from bullshit. Once i decided my attitude was making me 'stuck up' i kinda let go a lil and it got me into more mess.

so.... im taking a step back and going back to the old me, being 'shallow' in other words having RULES and REGULATIONS to live by instead of letting any man just enter.. thats what they said was shallow. I was too picky.

So ladies, gents, gays, if you've been feeling worthless do to some of the characters you've let in your life i will finally just go and say its time to let go and be 'shallow' be 'picky' be everything they said would make you single AKA SAFE FROM BS. do not go out to that date with that guy unless he has shown he's worth it. don't 'hangout' with them just for fun dont let them tell yall nothing NOTHINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. cause you will have to look back at the mirror and take responsibility and blame for whatever a man does to you. thats all.

i gotta heal alot of wounds and bs because folks dont care about you the way you do them, or just like to use you because thats all they been doing. just look out for yourself is all im trying to say.

god bless. <3

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souryogurt64 · 1 year

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Did Vicky and Gabe have a falling out or something?

so to be brief-- vicky was about ten years younger than gabe and experienced a lot of harassment as one of the only women playing on warped tour and in pop punk type bands from the 2000s.

a former member of cobra starship named elisa, who vicky replaced, accused gabe of emotional abuse when she left and later wrote a marie claire article about it. when she was kicked out of the band the the band responded with a 27 page hate letter. i am not exaggerating. it is no longer available online because it happened on absolutepunk.net and the owner of absolutepunk.net has blocked it from the wayback machine but it was 27 pages. this happened in like 2007 or something, so instead of cobra having their careers destroyed everyone sided with them.

vicky went on this girls podcast after she saw the marie claire article because she didnt know anything about that and the band had presented a different story about what happened with elisa to her.

this podcast was very long, about two hours, and the girl running it seemed a bit, um, unwell? she had been a host on howard stern after being on cobra and was apparently a sugar baby and a lot of people calling into the podcast were perverted old men verbally abusing her and she had this elderly "fiance" who also called in with some other girl bragging about cheating on her. it was incredibly weird and incredibly long and convoluted but and difficult to get through but vicky seemed kind of freaked out

its been years since i watched this so im fuzzy on the details, but vicky basically shared in this interview/podcast that her time in cobra was very difficult and traumatic for her even though she has a lot of fond memories of that time

she said things like gabe was very controlling and would do things like threaten to fire her if she didnt wear what he wanted and that she would cry a lot.

the other guys in the band bullied her so extensively that she would often go hang out on blink182s bus because they were nicer to her. she said that if she tried to interact with the rest of cobra or guys in other bands she would get called slutty/a whore, but if she didnt and kept to herself she would get called rude and frigid.

i think she said nate was very nice, she said that gabe was also very protective of her even though he could also be an asshole, she said ryland was the worst and incredibly mean. she did speak very highly of patrick lol

ultimately she said she wasnt ready for the band to break up-- which makes sense, she was so much younger than everyone else (gabe was 32, vicky was 23) they were ready to settle down and start families and move into the business side of the industry and she wanted to keep touring and doing music

she said she and gabe ended up cool and theyre still friends but ryland was really nasty to her if she ever wanted the band to catch up. i do think its telling regarding their relationship that victoria was the only one involved in the cobra reunion stuff whereas ryland and everyone else wasnt

again because the interview was so strange and long and everyone hates vicky not many people have seen this or know about it

i know there are a lot of problematic things about vicky that shouldnt be excused, but i really respect and admire her for being like essentially the only girl on warped (hayley williams is a diff convo idk if she was even on warped) and surviving an environment like that

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dayurno · 1 year

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"Exes Kandriel edition" im so curious as to what you mean by that bc I have seen all kinds of variations of "past relationship one ship new relationship another ship" like past andriel now kevineil or whatever but I don't think I've see a single fic where all 3 of them were together and then broke up??? I want to know what your brain is thinking pls share

HEHE WELL honestly the way i thought of it was kind of just kandreil being a thing throughout college/kevins last year but after his graduation he kind of goes m.i.a, in my heart i think about kevin moving out of the states to play exy a lot and i think itd actually be relevant and even important to him to be able to see the world beyond the nest......... but it also means things like different timezones, new people and new languages, an entire new life really that andreil of course do not agree with... i dont think they necessarily part on bad terms but andrew and neil very much dont want him to move away. in the end kevin (midnight rain plays softly in the background) wants the world in more ways than just a small apartment somewhere in denver and two cats you know....

so the fic would be really kevins return to the us a decade later, having broken off things with andreil but still loving them dearly....... right person wrong time kind of thing really.... and then theres andreil who never really stopped waiting for kevin, never stopped thinking about him, but accepted (after a lot of therapy mind you) that theres nothing you can Do when someone wants to/has to leave. i dont think thered even be a need to Rebuild their relationship per se because its always been there!!! andreil still have his stupid books in their apartment and kevins old jackets in their closet... i think theyd even come to pick him up at the airport totally uninvited too... BASICALLY JUST. ahhh you know... getting older and different but still yourself, being waited for when you thought your absence meant nothing, that kind of thing.... would kevin have stayed if he knew how much his absence would hurt them? would they have been as adamant about him staying if they had the insight of older men who know kevins ambitions are just as important as their own?

SO... old men yaoi........ i actually have a lot of thoughts about this you can guess by the long long answer haha i really want to write this (< going insane).... theyve loved him for almost ten years, what is one more? THAT KIND OF THING........ gah getting emotional just thinking about it.... kevin dayyyy!!! its you. its always been you

#asks #IM NORMAL AND THINGS LIKE THAT. ETC #i imagine kevin would come back to the us because of his retirement/to look out for wymack who is ahem. Getting Old Too #SOMETHING OF THE SORT..#AN D THEN OF COURSE THE GRAY HAIR ETC. im not dead i also want to fuck dilf kev #but really just the topic of waiting for a love/the one that got away..... but as a Poly Thing... AHHGHG #andreil stayed together and they were happy but they never forgot about him #really theyve been waiting. so patiently!!!!!!#IM NORMAL IM SO NORMAL ETCCC #gah (holds back tears)#just thinking about the decade andreil spent loving that man through news and tv appearances and pictures #the stash of old jackets kevin was never able to take with him because he never found it #kevins books on their shelf..... kevins exy dvds neil puts in a literal safe like its his most prized possession... little trinkets of life #that they just. kept. while they waited for him to come back #AFGHGHG... the years of confusion and longing and [so i'll watch your life in pictures the way i used to watch you sleep]#and kevin from the other side of the world still thinking that his absence meant nothing to them #that maybe he was just a fling or a sex thing or . it doesnt matter #SO YOU KNOW.

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daedalusdavinci · 2 years

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@trustymikh asked for “Excuse me?” from the emotional prompts list. im not sure how coherent this is but by god am i incapable of cutting anything out. twobruce, anyone?

In the yellow light of streetlamps and purple neon glow of signs, Two Face cut a fearsome silhouette, tall and broad-shouldered, framed by the tall buildings on either side of the alley. His gun glinted dangerously, his face more shadow than feature. Before he’d even clicked off the safety, Bruce watched the men surrounding him shrink, fear spreading across their faces.

“My, my.” Two Face’s gravel cut cleanly through the night, echoing off the dirty alley walls. His footsteps crunched on the cracked asphalt. “It seems someone forgot whose turf they were on.”

Two of the men stepped back. But the third- a buff, white man with close-cropped hair and tribal tattoos- lifted his chin, aiming for bluster. “Seems like somebody forgot the rest of their gang. You planning on taking us on alone, freak?”

Bruce wasn’t in any place to be picking a fight, but still, he felt himself bristle. The fog of alcohol gave heat to his defensive instincts, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It’d been years since he’d had any need to stand up for Two Face; a gang boss could more than handle himself. But he still felt the familiar anger, the familiar urge to put himself in between someone else and his old friend, even when Two Face was the one with the gun and all he had was a rumpled suit. He stepped forward, demanding, “Excuse me?”

One of the men snickered. The tallest of them eyed Bruce, his stance uneasy. “What’s it to you?”

The click of a safety going off rang through the alley, freezing them all where they stood. The shadows on Two Face’s face seemed to cut his scars deeper, making them look sharp and raw. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll give you two seconds.”

“Two Face-” Bruce started.

The leader of the group scoffed loudly, flicking open a knife. The point of it leveled at Bruce’s chest, but not over his heart. (Inexperienced, or not thinking about going for the kill.) “Going good, freak? Or are you just pissed we got to your prey before you did?”

“Hey, Matt,” one of the men whispered, taking another step back. “I don’t think-”

“You’ve heard what they say about Gotham. Every damn villain here is just a-”

The gunshot cracked through the alley, screams echoing after it. Bruce flinched without meaning to, clapping his hands over his ears. His whole head seemed to be ringing, his vision suddenly unfocused. Somewhere in his mind, he was aware of the men stumbling backward, spinning on their heels and bolting away from the scene. Matt yelled something, but whatever it was, the words were like gibberish in Bruce’s head.

His heart was beating too fast. He’d thought he was past this, but suddenly he was sitting on the ground, breathing hard, trying to remember why.

The light leaking into the alley flickered around him as Two Face moved closer, crouching in front of him. “Bruce?” Even half in shadow, his face was familiar, his brows furrowed with concern.

Bruce’s jaw felt locked shut. But when he reached out, Two Face grabbed his hand, gripping it tight, the way he had when they were kids. It felt steady and reassuring, the pressure of it soothing, somehow. His breathing eased slightly, and he tried to focus on the lines of Two Face’s face, following the familiar scars and the narrow line of his hooked nose.

“There you are, darling,” Two Face said, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “It’s alright. No one’s hurt. Just take deep breaths.”

Bruce did, trying to ease the panicky feeling in his chest. Two Face’s hand was warm in his, and he reached, on instinct, for more of him, finding his heart under the lapel of his jacket and feeling its steady beat under his palm. The rhythm helped him relax, slowly smoothing over the last of the fear.

When he felt fine enough to move, Two Face helped him back to his feet, pulling him upright again. He stumbled slightly, but Two Face caught him on instinct. “Careful,” Two Face said, squeezing his arm. He paused, and then his nose wrinkled. “Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy,” Bruce corrected, leaning back just enough to look up at him. His jaw felt strange, like it wasn’t used to moving anymore. “Party. You know how it is.”

Two Face sighed, but his expression looked fond. “Alfred’s number is the same?” he asked, taking out a phone and flipping it open.

It’d been so goddamn long since Two Face had helped him get home, Bruce felt suddenly emotional. Even now, Two Face would help him? He squeezed Two Face’s shoulder, stretching up to kiss his cheek. “You’re a dear, Twos.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Two Face muttered, punching in numbers. Bruce thought his face might have been red. “Just try not to go wandering around at night again. You’re a pretty target.”

#twobats #bruharvey #bruce wayne #harvey dent #two face #tumblr drabbles #my fics #trustymikh #i feel like i was going somewhere with this and then forgot where it was i wa sgoing #or maybe i changed directions too many times

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bettercostume · 9 months

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never have I ever had such an intense love/hate relationship with an athlete/celebrity/public figure/whatever as I do with Neymar 😭 like he’s genuinely one of the dumbest men alive and also a horrible guy but I’m such a nostalgia merchant that I still love him and feel like he had so much more to give to football :/ I know there’s a lot of other talented players out there and I like a lot of them but idk if I’ll ever feel the same *spark* I felt when I first watched ney at santos/barça. sorry to bring this to your inbox I know the transfer is a few days old by now but it still makes me sad. I hope Bayern dunk on psg in the next CL 🫶

hi anon its fine can I show you where I am:

youtube

laliga being a lil bitch as per usual but the sheer number of videos like this i used to hoard in my bookmarks to watch over and over because watching neymar made my chest explode into glitter. I started watching Ney because my partner at the time was a brazilian dude who was obsessed with neymar and santos so i was like, alright, I'll try. and then I really saw Neymar. my feelings now are all a result of the weird combo of circumstance and emotion: it was the time, the place, the community i found online for fcb. funnily enough I don't remember watching a single game with my boyfriend, other than a few clasicos i watched with him and one of the only nice madridistas i've ever met irl, i know he was there but he's just out of frame in these memories, i was so focused on the game and then the after party, coming on tumblr and talking with other people who loved him and barca the same way. it was important to me. Ney and his meet cute story of being able to play with Messi, the way he moved, his skinny little legs and embarassing insta uploads, the way he and dani would dance in spite of the ire of the spanish crowd....man.

i am a professional nostalgia merchant lmao so im just here to enable you. think nostalgia is an extremely beautiful human instinct, because while it is born from loss, it is kind of remarkably warm. a gorgeous rosy encapsulation of the best moments of something, cherry-picked for your own soothing, for brightening your internal world and doing that double-dip into being in love. for a moment you can just catch the edge of what it felt like, truly, before it slips away and fades into a softer re-imagining: the past, and you're still here. Neymar has been faded and soft for me for a while because I'm seven years older and more present in the real world, not the love-world of watching him, but I still would see him play sometimes with a dismal psg side and it would be back, that love, the embarrassing pull of it that defies logic. so I am also going to mourn this and then make dumb jokes about it and then also get kind of mad at the colossal waste because it's all a part of it. its always fine to bring this to me. what else are we on this goddamn website for!!!!

take care of yourself <3

#anon

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addoration · 2 years

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thoughts on will parry's predicament in tsk (and bleeding into tas, so beware spoilers)

(forgive me for inaccuracies in this meta, i dont have my copies of hdm with me so im going on memory alone!)

so will parry, maybe 13 years old, has murdered a man. manslaughter, really, and was it even really his fault? the man shouldn't have been there in the first place.

he runs and runs and runs in fear, all the way from - what was it, winchester? - to oxford. he's physically running away, and while he would like to mentally run away too, he can't. he's gripped with fear and guilt and despair, and the only good emotion he's probably feeling is gladness that he had managed to get his mum out of there before that night.

he's too young and doesnt understand enough to realise that the dead man would never have been found. pullman does such a good job of making us get inside will's mind, see things from his childish perspective - we know, distantly, that these men must have been hired by someone else who's up to no good to go and break in to his house etc, and thus we might deduce that there would be some sort of "clean up" where the death of the man doesn't see the light of day.

in the show, we're shown this explicitly. it's almost too obvious? we know suddenly that it's boreal behind the invasions n stalking.

in the book, however, we're left as shocked and reeling as will is. like i said, distantly we know all those facts - but pullman manages to write in such a way that we see things simply from will's perspective, and we forget all logic. we're all scared little boys running from a bad deed.

and he meets lyra, and amongst the things he's thinking is probably "she doesn't know what ive done. i can still be a good person to her."

except of course, lyra pries and consults the alethiometer and she finds out exactly what will is. a murderer.

and well, anyone who has heard me speak abt it before knows that that scene where she finds out he's a murderer and is just like "awesome, he can keep us safe then" is one of my favourites. i think they did it dirty in the show. BUT regardless, i believe that this is both anticlimatic and also a climax at the same time.

anticlimatic because she finds out will's a murderer and she's actually put at ease. climactic because of the exact same reasons: its a pivotal moment in their relationship, even as early on as it is.

(actually can i say that as much as i adore the scene, i find it a bit..... wrong? it always rubbed me the wrong way that the altheiometer, a truth telling device, called will a murderer. it shouldnt, because that is ultimately what he is!!! he killed someone, intentional or not. but.

but.

will parry unintentionally and quite by accident killed that man. the word murderer just never sat right with me, despite it being true. i dont know if im alone in this - does anyone else feel this way??

anyway, moving on. the fact is, he seems to quickly forget about it. he's still on the look out for coppers when they cross back into his world, so of course it's not out of his mind completely! he's paranoid but not so paranoid as to be irrational.

but he goes the rest of the books without really thinking about it much more. remember when he draws the knife and intends to stand up to - who was it, the metatron? he does so without a thought.

which is partly on par for his character: he's a protector, he's a survivor. but i also feel like pullman forgets to give him any of the trauma that should come with accidentally killing someone.

even though kids are more resilient. even though its very much likely that he's pushed that into the mists of his mind simply because he has more pressing matters to attend to (finding lyra).

actually it's just occured to me; he doesn't have time to really grieve his father, either.

but anyway, back to the topic.

when the knife shatters, he's thinking of his mother. when he cant make another cut, he's thinking of his mother.

it's interesting that pullman chose love to be the driving force behind everything that will parry does. i actually really appreciate and adore that. i don't belive its ever explicitly said? but he is the bravest character in the trilogy. lyra endures a lot and is brave too, don't get me wrong, but there's something about will, seen consciously putting love first time and time again, that makes you remember that he, unlike lyra, did not choose this adventure, and so him standing in the face of it all and choosing to love anyway is a sign of his bravery.

i mean, thats not to mention the time he stands in front of iorek and says "fight me".

it's interesting to me. he is by far the kindest character in the series. even lyra, though never meaning ill, has her moments of small cruelty, though they taper out towards the end of the triology as she grows up and is also influenced by will.

i started this trying to gather a few thoughts on will being a murderer, and ive ended up concluding that will is the bravest and kindest character. do you think balthamos would have done what he did, sacrificing his life, if he had never been influenced by will?

and let me touch on one thing i said in passing: will did not choose this journey. men started stalking his mother and him, forcing him into the actions at the start of tsk; lyra, on the other hand, fought tooth and nail to go north and save roger, and then continued to chose to walk over the bridge between worlds that asriel created. you can say that it was fate and she was destined to do so, so she didn't have a choice either.... but its not true. she had a choice the same way eve had a choice.

well! ive said a lot and resolved none of the floating thoughts in my head. feel free to comment or add your thoughts to this, or come talk to me in the hdm server (msg me if you would like a link) about what ive said!! i just love will parry a lot.

#his dark materials #hdm #hdm tv #dove talks #long post #sorry mutuals who have no idea what im on about!!

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the-navistar-carol · 1 year

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here from zee's blog. don't worry about answering if its too personal, but how did you know you were ace? did the whole romance vs. sexual thing confuse you too? going through my own thing rn and idk how to articulate it but i feel like advice coming from a person that i know, in however limited of a scope, would help, as opposed to an informational post (they have been helpful too! its just not what im looking for rn).

Hey, anon! I have a funny story about how I realized I was ace, actually — and it’s funny because it’s completely ass backwards from anyone else. To TL;DR it, yes, romance vs sex confuses the shit out of me still. Like, how can someone look at someone else (even someone they don’t know) and be like “smash” ?????? How does it go further than aesthetic??? Than “oo pretty person! moving on” ?????

Content warning, I talk about boobs below the cut.

But the story of how I realized I was ace goes something like this.

I didn’t know that being LGBTQ+ was a thing until seventh grade. Like at all. Age twelve. Had never heard about people being gay. My parents are not homophobic, they are accepting of who I am, but for some reason -- LGBTQ+ things were never brought up in the house. But age twelve. That was the year I got a wider group of friends and also had wider internet access. What did I do with it, you may ask? Print memes off of Pinterest and carried them in a binder to show my friends. I am not joking.

But in this Pinterest rabbit hole, I discovered the glory of crossposted Tumblr textpost memes. Like old Tumblr memes. Having-the-old-format old. And alongside these memes like the dancing Spiderman and none pizza with left beef was some pretty profound shit. Like the ol’ “biggest gaudiest patronuses,” the “the day after i killed myself” poem, all that jazz. And in that category of profound was a bootlegged post about asexuality.

“Huh,” twelve-year-old me said, taking all of fifteen minutes to think about it. “That sounds pretty accurate!”

While I have not looked back since, it gets funnier every year that that is how I figured it out. Because for the first three years or so, I was carrying around the label with just the knowledge of what it was, not really thinking about it whatsoever despite it being as true as the color of the grass in California. (Brown.) It was only when I hit sophomore year or so that I actually began to realize hang on, I was actually on to something here and that there was actually — shocker — a lot more about me that fit with the ace label. I got bored when making out with an ex. I got BORED. MAKING OUT. That was the funniest one.

To TL;DR that — I never had the feeling of “oh no I’m broken, I don’t feel this emotion” because I slapped the label on myself and then discovered I actually fit into it after the fact. I’m probably not the best person to ask “hey how did you know you were ace” because I discovered more about being ace after already labeling myself as such. But I did write a research paper on asexuality, if someone ever wants to read that for some reason.

…..i did not answer your question.

About the romance versus sex thing: it absolutely still confuses me. Tinder is a huge confuser. Why. Why the hell. Hookups. Why. Why the hell. Is it not enough to listen to someone ramble about something they're passionate about? Love is stored in the infodumps.

My last ex was not ace, I have not dated someone ace because finding ace men is actually quite hard. But there was a point near the end of our relationship when he wanted to see my boobs (like with a bra on, not nude from the waist up). I got nothing out of it, but shrugged and went “sure” because,,,, ehh???? It’s just,,,,,, boobs? They sure as hell don’t make me horny, so I had no problem temporarily showing off things that didn’t affect me lmfao

People, to me, are like paintings and dogs. They’re like paintings in the sense that I can stop and admire someone, even for a while, but I’ll eventually walk away. They’re like dogs in the sense that I want to cuddle and hold hands and do soft things with them, but I wouldn’t fuck a dog, to put it crudely. Also, I get tired of hanging out with people after a while, but that’s also because I’m autistic and a whole other can of worms.

Hope this helped?

#dani answers #ace pride #asexuality #anon asks

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thatbitchsimone · 11 months

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I also love Angelica and think she's so great - there's another video on her youtube where she says people should only lose their virginity in their 20's - what do you think about this? I agree with her sentiment to an extent and I do think as a woman I was put into many situations that make me feel used now and I am sure this can negatively affect men as well.. I just kind of felt ashamed/worried after watching the video because she said that having sex very young can negatively set you up for life and I agree to an extent but I think there's more nuance to it than a 20 minute youtube video can express.. And also I think the problem more with me is I didn't know to express my boundaries or communicate and people took advantage of that sometimes.. and just how women are socialised etc etc

i was just gonna watch that video but it looks like shes deleted all of those videos (which sucks ass bc she had an amazing video about the tumblr nymphet community and its parallels to nambla and how it has negatively affected us that got seduced by that little subculture back in the mid 2010s) so unfortunately i cant answer this properly bc i dont have the full context and i dont have her arguments etc but i can still give some of my immidiate thoughts on it so here we go

i think losing ur virginity/wait with sex until ur in ur 20s is probably ideal tbh and i would absolutely encourage it for anyone who is in their teens rn and havent had their sexual debut yet. main reason being that u will be old enough to understand sex and its risks and effects and u will have had time to figure ur own body out more and u will most likely have at the very least basic level emotional intelligence and maturity that is required to have safe and healthy and enjoyable sex. like u have just finished puberty and just left teenagehood behind which is a messy and confusing and rough lifestage for all of us and ur now entering adulthood and have gained some perspective etc and u are way more in tune with urself (at the very least compared to when u were a teen) and both ur body and brain will be developed enough to be able to handle sex and have a realistic attitude around it and while ofc u can still be manipulated and u may still be somewhat naive it wont be anywhere near AS easy to manipulate u as it would have been earlier bc thats just how it is. u might still be vulnerable maybe sure but if ur vulnerable now u were even MORE vulnerable when u were a teen. its just how it is. thats how growing up works. u will probably have a way easier and more enjoyable sexual debut in ur 20s bc u will have a headstart in so many ways both physically and emotionally.

BUT im not gonna pretend like its that black and white and simple. Many girls (and boys but im focusing on women here) have perfectly normal and healthy sexual encounters when they are teenagers and i rly dont believe that sex will just automatically traumatize and harm u when ur a teen bc lets be real here, the key here is that u explore sex with UR PEERS, boys and girls within ur own age group, NOT ppl that are 20+ when u are like 14-16. when ur a high schooler and u want to explore sex u do it with other high schoolers. ppl ur own age. I think its perfectly fine and normal to have sex when ur a teen, but that is assuming u are having sex with other teens. NOT ppl that are like 5 years older than u. thats when actual impactful long lasting harm becomes highly likely. feeling like u got used and heartbroken by a boy in ur school aka a boy that is ur peer and ur own age will hurt and suck and will leave an impact on u but its a very different impact than the one u will be left with if u felt taken advantaged of by someone much older (not a teen). the dynamics are whats important here i think.

sex and relationships are messy and yes u can always get fucked up from it thats just how it is. u cant avoid it. u just need to be able to handle it and maybe ur not ready to handle it until ur like 25, thats fine. dont do it then. like if u dont think ur ready, just wait until u are. if ur like 15 and feel ready then go ahead but STICK TO PPL UR OWN AGE when ur that young. u gotta be equals. period.

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