#and i mean i was trying to be realistic too

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

[seosracha]

Haluu!! Currently obsessed with taylor’s guilty as sin, was wondering if you could make a fic with hanbin in mind? :0

⸻ guilty as sin - SUNG HANBIN

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff (ig??!), imagine

pairing: sung hanbin x gn!reader

wc: 0.6k

authors note: my nonnies have such good music taste cause this song is so pretty too🙏 im sorry if i got the meaning of the song messed up tho 😞😞 anyways requests are open!

Ever since you first saw him, walking so confidently down the hallway, his smile and eyes shining so brightly, you knew it’d be him. You knew Sung Hanbin would be the one you’d be pining for, thinking about endlessly, and daydreaming about. 

Hanbin was kind. Not the type of fake, toxic kind, but genuine sweet type of kind. He was also so smart, his beautiful face being just a simple reflection of his truly incredible mind. 

He was the unreachable, desired boy everyone wanted, and nothing really set you apart from any of the other girls who’d beg for a minute of his attention. 

And maybe fantasizing about him, recalling things that never happened made you guilty, but there was no way you could help it. 

Without ever touching his skin, you had fallen for the boy. 

Your friends kept on convincing you to talk to him, try your chances, but you never did, too afraid of the annoyingly sweet rejection he’d probably serve you with. He had already done so with many of his admirers, and each time he managed to, not on purpose, make you feel wrong for even trying. 

The thoughts of Hanbin accompanied you every day, and it deep down made you feel slightly insane, wondering how much longer you can take his absence in your life. 

So when the moment you continuously dreamt about, was unveiling right in front of you, you still had no idea what to say. You had been admiring Hanbin from afar, and now he was right in front of you, that infectious smile plastered all across his face, as the simple words fell right out of his mouth. 

You imagined it, but never expected it to be so easy for him to say. It surely wouldn’t be easy for you. No matter how much you liked him, putting it into words would never be something you’d be able to do. 

“I really like you, Y/n. I have for a long time, but I wasn’t sure if you were interested in me” that exact moment replayed in your mind, and if he wasn’t standing right in front of you, you’d probably slap yourself. 

Your imagination had become so vivid, that this could well be just another hyper realistic reflection of those thoughts. But it wasn’t. After 3 years you finally got to hear Hanbin say those pretty words to your face, with all of his sincerity and honesty. 

You’d never tell him what you thought about, and he’d never tell you neither, but the affection was enough confirmation to know that it was real, and that it’d finally come true. 

And even though you had done half these things in your head, it was now all so tangible, so warm in your hands. He finally felt so real, and you wouldn’t ever give that away. 

So maybe you were guilty as sin for being so taken away by Hanbin’s image without even knowing him, but at least now you could say it aloud with a proud smile.

#sung hanbin imagines #sung hanbin #sung hanbin x reader #hanbin imagines #hanbin imagine #hanbin scenarios #hanbin #zb1 hanbin #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin fluff #hanbin fluff #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 #zerobaseone angst #zerobaseone hanbin #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone fluff #zb1 fluff #REQUESTS !🪩

[nexa00x]

Hellooo, this is a Tokyo Rev ask and I was really interested in the Mikey post u made abt him as a bf realistically since canonically he’s one of the top worst. So i was wondering, what do you think of Keisuke Baji taking number 1 place as best lover? 👀

Hello! Baji is an angel despite his wild personality. I see him as a watchdog, like in that panel in the last timeline when Takemichi meets Mikey and acts like a puppy. He's not interested in a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean he's immune to falling in love or anything.

After doing this, he probably be that guy who stands silently next to his crush in class while blushing, but his scary face makes your subconscious ignore that he's turning red as a tomato. He will probably try 10 times harder to be a good student to impress his crush.

He gets upset with himself when you find out he's in a gang, he thinks it will push you away (it would push me away, but it depends on the person).

He is faithful, either you betray him or one of you stops loving the other, because only then will the love relationship with him end. I feel like he wouldn't want you to get hurt in any way, so he's always tried to hide that he's in a gang to avoid getting in trouble.

Someone like Baji, who despite being aggressive is at the same time affectionate in his own way, and who is willing to do things that many people wouldn't do like suicide is proof that he is not only a good boyfriend, but also a good friend ...actually he's good at everything.

You probably met him thanks to stray animals, or you always fed them or you always went to their pet store. He would probably arrive talking to you about cats and the conversation would flow. Every day you went there to feed the cats and he does that too, not because of you, but because of the cats. But over time it becomes attached to you and ends up appearing there for both you and the cats.

He's the type to behave like an older brother. He doesn't get jealous, he just gets suspicious when someone approaches you. As already stated in the character's book, Baji prefers to resort to violence and before a conversation, this wouldn't change much when you were dating; If he feels like hitting someone who takes up a lot of his time, just prepare your emergency kit to take care of the person he hits later.

I see him declaring himself on an important day like Valentine's Day, Christmas or New Year's, his declaration would have been 100% his and 50% Chifuyu and Ryusei's advice. Baji, like Chifuyu, reads manga, I don't remember if it was here which category he reads, but I'm sure he was inspired by it...

Obviously everything would go wrong. Some delinquent behind him trying to fight, or him simply having brain problems because he forgot what he was going to say. In the end he was only able to declare himself even in serious moments, like moments of near death where he said something like:

"don't give up on me yet, damn it! I haven't even had time to tell you how I feel!"

That alone would be enough for days later for you to talk and resolve the matter and he would simply have to say everything. But that would take years...Baji is a man of steps when it comes to love.

First step would be trust, second would be time, third would be moments together, fourth would be denial of feelings towards you, fifth would be denial and disgust at himself for having these feelings for you, sixth would finally be acceptance of his feelings for you, seventh would be his mental adaptation to all of this, eighth would be gathering courage, and ninth would finally be his declaration. But make no mistake, each stage takes time, in the end only the fourth stage would take a few years.

Baji isn't the physical type either, in fact most Asians aren't very into physical affection. But a hug from him wouldn't bother him, just raise a question in his head.

Him trying hard not to see his mother cry, killing himself for Kazutora is proof that this man would do whatever he could to keep you happy.

He would probably, like Draken, neglect you. the only way to have a perfect relationship with him is to be like him, wild and involved with Toman. Not only would it bring you closer together, but it wouldn't leave you as attention-hungry as our poor Emma.🥺

And these are my thoughts on Baji, if there is anyone with other opinions please let me know, I like talking about it. each person has a different point of view. I was never very close to him, so I only remember a few things...

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji x you #tokrev

[lvndrdaaze]

Hi hi! I saw that you're accepting req & i want to send a req if you don't mind (you can decline it, up to you)! Sfw headcanons/thoughts/one-shot (it could be anything) for wriothesley with gn reader who secretly writing a fanfic about him with the reader, wrio finds out about it 'cause he finds the paper with their handwriting (oof). Thanks in advance!

hiii! so I'm not usually accepting specific story reqs, but this tickled my fancy for some reason so I wrote a short-ish one shot, I hope you like it!! <3

(gn!reader, reader is an adventurer, one light swear ('asshole'))

Wc: 860-ish

Life Imitates Art

Tea with Wriothesley in his office was normally an innocuous affair. You'd come down to visit between your quests across Fontaine, and share a pot of whichever blend had taken his fancy recently while discussing work or literature or the latest performance you had seen at the Opera Epiclese. All of this while desperately trying to hide your attraction to the surely unattainable Duke.

So, when Wriothesley brought up something he had read recently, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. That is, until you had asked that fatal question.

"What was it about?"

Wriothesley's face lit up; he couldn't wait to tell you what the story had been about.

"Well, it was a romance story, about an adventurer and a Duke." His answer came in a light, conversational tone.

The whole world seemed to stop for a brief moment. The steady chug of machinery outside of his office went quiet. Even your heart had stopped pounding in your chest. Those papers you had lost...Archons, you prayed you had not left them in his office.

Meanwhile, he sipped his tea casually, hardly even looking at you as he continued to speak.

"The story was written from the adventurer's point of view, so you get to hear all of their deepest thoughts and secrets." Wriothesley said, glancing up at you with the slightest glimmer in his eye.

"I see..." was all you could manage to say, a hot flush growing in your cheeks as you dropped your gaze to stare into your teacup. He was toying with you, and you knew it.

"The adventurer had invited the Duke on a quest with them to Liyue, and they were staying the night in a hotel by the harbour. But, when they got there to check in, disaster struck- there was only one bed." He went on, an unmistakeable smirk in his voice now. "You see, it seemed the adventurer had some hidden feelings for the Duke. So, as you can imagine, sharing a bed with him would be quite the embarrassing situation for them."

"Yes, I can imagine." Your voice came out quietly.

"But, lucky for the adventurer, it turned out that the Duke had also been harbouring some...intense feelings for them. They barely lasted an hour in that bed together before the plot turned rather obscene."

You sighed, barely resisting the urge to facepalm.

"It was well written, all things considered." Wriothesley went on further, leaning back in his chair. Even without looking, you could feel the grin he wore in his words, the predatory gaze burning into your red cheeks as he knew full well he had you cornered.

"And I thought the plot was quite realistic, too."

That brought your attention back to him properly. Your head snapped up to stare at him, confusion written into your expression.

"What do you mean?" You asked in a low voice, a frown tugging on your brow. You didn't love the way he was toying with you in this moment, but his vague statement was enough to give you pause.

"I mean that I think a Duke like that really would reciprocate the adventurer's feelings." Wriothesley stated as though it were a simple fact. "After all, 'the warmth of their smile was enough to melt the ice that had shrouded the Duke's heart in coldness for so long'."

As he grinned wickedly at your gaping expression, you weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. This had been so humiliating for you, and this was the reason for his teasing?

"You're an asshole." You murmured, still burning bright red in a haze of embarrassment. Wriothesley chuckled softly, and pulled a couple of sheets of paper from his desk drawer.

"You left these last time you visited." He informed you with a wide smirk.

"Yes, I worked that part out." You huffed, snatching them from his hand. "And this is how you decided to tell me?"

He laughed again, a lopsided yet handsome grin on his lips.

"Can you blame me for having a little fun with it?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on the desk, mirthful eyes surveying you closer from this angle.

"I can, and I will."

But your voice didn't hold the bite that it should, and he recognised that.

"I thought the adventurer liked the Duke's 'dry wit and caustic sense of humour'?" Wriothesley teased.

"They changed their mind. The adventurer thinks the Duke is a cruel, cruel man."

Wriothesley laughed again, an expression of such smugness on his face, you couldn't help but stare. He was so handsome like this, so relaxed and gleeful.

"Well, if you ever change it back, I'd love to take you out sometime." The Duke said simply, dropping all pretence and glancing down to run his thumb over the rim of his teacup. Was that...a hint of pink in his cheeks?

Floundering. That was the word for what you felt. Like a cat tossed into a bathtub, you were in unfamiliar waters. Wriothesley was asking you out, but what could you do but accept?

"Alright, but you have to promise me you'll never bring this up ever again. Like, ever." You emphasised the words heavily, desperately, and Wriothesley flashed a mischievous grin.

"Sorry sweetheart, I'm not promising anything."

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader fluff #wriothesley x reader oneshot

[russenoire]

you know, if we're going to go after all flavors of fucked-up terumob for supposedly not being a tenable premise, or somehow 'missing the point'? one can easily argue the same for fluffy terumob.

given all the in-canon trauma standing between these boys, terumob as a concept is on some shaky-ass legs: teruki is projecting a fuckton of worship unhealthy idealism onto shigeo, and shigeo has every right to be wary of/angry about teruki's attempt to end him, for as long as it takes him.

they're still on family name terms at the end of the story, and teruki is still trying to get shigeo to spend more time with him. ONE leaves us with a long shot at anything between these two beyond casual friendship. (unless teruki is more forthright about what he wants? or shigeo realizes he can reciprocate?)

and the pair both have so much healing to do from the pain they've caused each other. whether they do so together or apart, it's gonna look ugly, perhaps for years.

i actually want to see that, too.

there's nothing wrong with sweet, tender wish fulfillment. there's also nothing wrong with examining how trauma can realistically play out in courtship or dating. and teenagers are not immune to toxic dynamics in relationships! if you truly believe this, i have a bridge i wanna sell you.

fluff does not mirror my experience of childhood in the slightest, but i'm not gonna shake my fists at its creators, and i'm not salty that it exists. it's beautiful. guess what? so is mogamiland terumob. so is codependent terumob. shame on all of you who felt it was OK to harass anyone for them.

people create AUs and draw and write for fun, and not everyone finds comfort or enjoyment in the same things. there should be room here for a wider range of emotional expressions. i mean, there sure is in the source material.

and there is already so much carefree marshmallow fluff in the #terumob tag. so much. i don't know about y'all, but i was happy to see some variety for once.

#mp100 #mp100 meta #terumob #trauma #has this fandom learned nothing since 'a breach of trust'? #canon divergence #what if scenarios are just fine y'all #the source material is dark AF #vent #分析 #mp100 analysis #fandom

[chloeseyeliner]

help, now that i have stopped tearing up at every mention of the series, the young royals forever documentary and the bts videos have brought my past obsession with film-making back-

#beware: rambling ahead!!! #so when i was in high school a secret dream of mine was to go to film school #because i was mesmerised by the whole process of writing and directing and everything the crew typically does during filming #and i was reading so much stuff about all the different angles and symbolism and the like #but of course my mother wouldn't let me #(very neil perry of me lmao) #and i mean i was trying to be realistic too #because i don't come from money and greece is not exactly a great place to be an artist #(since i wouldn't be able to go abroad and chase my dreams or something like that i am not the main character in a disney movie) #so like i threw this dream into the bin along with being an astronaut (i was bad at physics because no one ever explained anything to me- #-before last year of high school i still don't know how i technically aced my uni entering physics exam lol ANYWAY) #and don't get me wrong #i like the path i have chosen now (which was at the beginning at least also against my mother's wishes but she thinks it 'has money' so- #-she 'allowed it' as if- i won't say anything worse i'll regret later i'll just leave it be) #i like it very much because i can help people and maybe contribute to making this world a better place #i just... #i watched the documentary some days ago and it's all i can think about (along with the show of course) #like i LOVE the cast #but the crew is magnificent as well #what they create is like magic #anyway #young royals #filmmaking

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

~

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 

That’s not. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing. 

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table. 

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT #except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages! #ohhhh this was so cozy to write #i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk #its been too fluffy in here. #this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction #WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY #i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!! #this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing #my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on.... #but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3 #bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other #snippets from the bog #i will repeat what i have said multiple times before #i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character #i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have #but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam #and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3

[thesawrfilms]

you ever think about how Strahm and Perez are kind of narrative equivalents of Tapp and Sing

#two ways you can go with this either it's an intentional parallel or they were copying off leigh's homework #i mean or i'm reading too much into this but like the older more experienced partner who's trying to figure out who jigsaw/'s accomplice is. #and goes off the deep end when his partner is killed/“killed” #tapp obsessively watching lawrence vs. strahm obsessively tracking down hoffman #you see it right #should've had a movie where it's revealed sing survived the shotgun hallway i think that would've been realistic #sawposting

[sorenphelps]

muse

a quick sketch inspired by a very old fanfic about Remus writing poems about Sirius' bits i just randomly remembered today... unfortunately the fic (more like a poem collection) was in Hungarian only and it's so old that it's now lost forever🤷🏻‍♀️

also tagging @plecotusauritus to help her preach the freckled Sirius agenda

#sirius black #wolfstar #fanart #art by lau #lau draws with a tablet #is it too obvious i used my own face as a reference for this?... #im not saying that i am this hot im not vain enough for a statement like that #but i just see too much of my own features in this and idk if its only me or others can see it too? #i mean i just wanted to kinda “realistically” emphasize the semi-asian features a bit with the shape of his eyes and his cheekbones #ANYWAYS #trying to find the fic i mentioned above i just found out that another decades old wip fic got updated recently lol brb reading

[torgawl]

this is absolutely killing me *bombastic side eye, criminal offensive side eye playing in the background*

#zhongli probably thinks neuvillette will turn into that one kermit punch meme as soon as he lands eyes on him 😂 #this entire quest was peak humour #i really love genshin sometimes #also neuvi falling for a marketing strategy and ending up buying too much tea on the first time he goes out to another country is so him #there was so much going on during this quest #neuvi explaining an inside joke to wrio... that was so cynoesque ahjsgsjsgshs he's trying his best at fitting in 😭 cute #i love that old man so much #and the ladle?!!!!! picasso 🤌 #furina having a death note moment of reverse physchology trying to understand if zhongli knew who she was was only missing the #l's theme playing in the background #plus clorinde and navia being questionably lesbian in the mountain that was also nice 👍 #but i swear neuvi is so funny #what do you mean that man carried everyone's belongings and went to another country in half a day and managed to scare zhongli without #even trying agsjsh i'm gonna create a monsieur neuvillette fan club #he's the best ever #i need him to meet zhongli for scientific purposes. the world will stop when that day comes 😂 #i need to know what would happen #okay realistically neuvi would probably start wheezing the moment he saw the false vision #but still poking genshin so they give us the content we need they can't just tease us like this

[scintillyyy]

the problem with dixon tim-steph is that it's written by dixon but it's also really the only time that tim-steph is actually kind of interesting (to me)

#sorry i don't hate tim-steph let me be clear even if i ultimately don't ship them too much #i actually find their messiness in the dixon era very interesting to dissect & very realistic for 14/15 year olds #trying out their first relationships & learning how to be in a relationship #steph and her determination to ignore that a guy she likes already has a girlfriend & her inability to regard ari at all #tim and his culpability in. letting the whole steph thing happen bc things are messy with ari #despite some attempts by him to stop it #just the overall messy & mean way they each treat the other once they're finally formally dating #anyways it's leagues above lewis (sorry. they were certainly. better to each other. but it was far more boring.) #(and that was also a subpar tim and a subpar steph & lewis just had tim tweeing over steph the way fitz has tim twee over bernard in tdr #(so.) (don't make me bust out my lewis run & tdr are similar in all the ways that weaken the story post) (actually i might.) #anyways the thing is that there's so much there in dixon dynamic wise that's like. i don't like those dynamics in things i ship #but it was interesting at least <3

[starteas]

I feel kind of silly for worrying if Lumi won’t reach it’s next crowdfund goal despite how much people have shown that yes, they do want to see this and my anxiety is just mean to me in thinking that they won’t.

At the same time it’s still a very real worry to have, but it also lead me to severely doubt myself last time and I feel if starting to creep in all over again…

#tbd #Evan bleats #but at the same time that doesn’t mean it’ll be successful #there’s so much I have to think about and I wonder if I’m overthinking about it too much… #i definitely want to be successful because I love Lumi and I want to tell a story that means a lot to me #but I can’t just let my own wishes and dreams get in the way of what’s Realistic #knowing that the pilot will probably be the only episode made #or maybe I’m just being too pessimistic??? #I’m not trying to my brain is just like yes you can dream about this but u gotta consider the Reality too #ahhhh… x_x

[oh-meow-swirls]

baffled by how early on you can apparently get a yo-kai with paradise.

#puppy rambles #yo-kai watch #yw2 #i mean for the record. tattletell ALSO evolves fairly early and tattlecast ALSO has paradise #but not FUCKING LEVEL 17??? #trying to figure out what healer i wanna use. that's always the hardest part of playing yo-kai watch for me #there's not a lot of options (esp not in 2) #(a good amount of the restoration attribute yo-kai i can think of are from blasters or 3) #so it's hard to pick- #i've already used pinkapoo and nurse tongus. and i got roughraff instead of tattletell #it doesn't help that the wiki is just. blatantly missing some restoration attribute yo-kai #supposedly only two new restoration attribute yo-kai were added in 2 (don-chan and slicenrice) #kelpacabana. tongus and nurse tongus. gnomey and high gnomey. predictabull and smashibull. pallysol #realistically i'm sure that one of the fruitnyans is restoration attribute (apparently not actually. wack) #and i'm sure there's others i'm forgetting too sdlkfjskldfjkfsdjksd-

[vincenzo-s]

tumblr is the best place to talk abt extraordinary attorney woo bc every other site has bizarre takes like can everyone shut up and just let us have young woo and junho be all cute and lovey dovey we dont care if jun ho is realistic or not

#extraordinary attorney woo #if i wanted realistic portrayal of men i would just go outside?? #i mean in this case there are ofc realistic elements as the show is trying to convey an important message #but these characters do not have to be fully realistic #furthermore!!! #why is jun ho so unrealistic #rather than viewing him that way why cant he be the standard #why does there need to be a reason why he likes her? #he just does!!! #thats literally how most rs work in shows #wouldnt u say thats how rs irl work too? #at least some #i do agree we need to know more abt jun ho #but what we do know is he is kind and warmhearted acc to YW #must there be a reason for his behavior? #arent yall nice to people?? like what

[caffeinatedopossum]

I don't understand why it's generally not socially acceptable to recognize your good qualities. Like I don't understand why it's bad to be a show-off or a know-it-all or to brag. Like I think most people know "those things = bad" but not why.

It also seems like people are always either waaaaay into one end of the scale where they are just so unbearably full of themselves and have preposterously high self esteem (and most people act like this is fine too? Like a lot of celebrities and white men specifically seem to be like this) and I don't understand why so many people respect them then. Or they're the complete opposite with self esteem way too low despite the fact that they have redeeming qualities.

I feel like maybe the reason it's considered bad to brag is because you might 'make' other people feel inadequate but see that seems like a stupid reason to me because the problem then is not that you stated an opinion of your own self worth but is actually that everyone else is conditioned to compare themselves to each other in a very unhealthy way. And I think instead of discouraging people from opening up about what they take pride in, what they like about themselves, what makes them feel happy or content or confident, maybe we could just be discouraging people from viewing those things as personal threats? Idk just trying to formulate some thoughts on this

#idk why but this feels like a very convoluted topic #like so many people are probably coming from different starting positions on this than i am and im afraid that might #make it be misinterpreted or something #like i feel like there definitely is a balance where some self esteem is too little and some is too much #it just feels like it is exceedingly rare to find anyone with ideal realistic self esteem and idk why #i also dont mean this in a way to say that every action is the responsibility of the people taking offense either #because obviously thats not how that works. its understandable to demand a certain amount of respect #and to accept that your words (even the ones you say about yourself) could negatively impact other people #and thats not necessarily on them for being defensive #idk social concepts are strange and foreign to me so im still figuring this stuff out and through an autistic lense to boot #so sometimes i feel a bit like im conducting a study or an experiment more than writing a blog post #im just trying to understand people because i need to #it seems like the overwhelming majority of allistics have absolutely no interest in why they do the things that they do #so i have to go around experimenting instead of asking direct questions about this stuff #because when i do ask direct questions they look at me like i just asked them if the sky is actually blue or if its just gasses up there #in case you are not the most common dimwit. the sky is both of those things. however when you ask someone a question #phrased like that about a topic they dont want to admit they dont know about. they will usually avoid the question or answer absurdly #its actually kinda funny you should try it sometime #now im distracted because i dont know enough about how the sky works and i need to know #anyways gonna go down a research rabbit hole methinks

[eggnoodles0up]

its kinda interesting, i think with fanart i prefer the more fluffy and silly stuff, but with fanfiction/comics i tend to be more invested in the angsty ones

#dont mind me just psychoanalyzing myself #egg noodling #i mean ig it seems more realistic for actual writing to be not all sunshine and rainbows #where art is just like a little snippet of their life yknow? #i do like the occasional angst art as well but like when i draw it myself i usually feel rlly embarrassed abt it after a while #its probably just abt exposing my emotions to a bunch of stangers on the internet tbh #wish it wasnt though!!! i really wanna try making art thats impactful and makes u feel things !!!! i love that shit !!!! #im always kinda anxious abt being too “edgy” tho #this is what happens when i think too much past midnight