#( TRYING TO NOT BE OVERLY DEPRESSING IN THE DASH BUT …!! )

[kokoronohiroi]

perhaps i am once again overthinking things . but the fact okuyasu is always seen going out to eat … or snacking … because of the fact he probably doesn’t have much food at home … i am ill

[olderthannetfic]

u have a no nonsense perspective i appriciate. am i being overly sensitive if i'm kinda triggered by those adhd comics where the protagonist gets diagnosed/accepts themselves and says something along the lines of "i get to forgive myself?!"? because my brain automatically injects "unlike those other people who don't have a reason to fail and cant/shouldnt forgive themselves". im neurotypical so im not the target audience but my friends keep putting that stuff on my dash and idk how to deal

--

A lot of "my minority is so great" art is kind of implicitly saying so at the expense of others. Dwelling on it is oversensitive, but I think you're right that there's a bit of weird subtext sometimes. (My personal most hated flavor on tumblr is Smug Asexuality Comics, but there are many versions.)

Lots of people can run into Executive Function, What Executive Function? problems, both from other neurodivergence and from things like situational depression, anxiety directly caused by stress, etc. If life throws a lot at you at once, you won't necessarily escape all these symptoms just because you don't happen to have a specific diagnosis of neurodivergence or chronic mental illness.

A lot of shit overlaps and so do a lot of coping mechanisms that can handle it. The named problems are just a specific constellation of symptoms that are particularly long-term, particularly intense, and that don't relate as much to changes in environment. So perhaps some people deserve extra help coping and extra understanding, but the building blocks of all these problems are things that everybody could use a helping hand with.

I doubt most of these comics are trying to say "nobody else deserves nice things", but one does sometimes come away with that impression.

What you should do next depends on whether your problem is that your friends are posting things you find annoying or whether you feel like you are not allowed leeway and forgiveness (by your own brain, by your friends, by your family).

One of these should be ignored. The other...

[heartkaji]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ SAILOR’S HANDBOOK !

ⓘ to become a sailor on the s.s. mars spaceship, you must first read the sailor’s handbook & abide by all rules.

── .✦ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 ୨ৎ

୨୧ dni ! with me if you fall into basic dni criteria , pro-Israel, anti-christian, semitic, islamophobic or anti-religious in general. also if you’re one of those atheists constantly trying to disprove certain religions.

୨୧ dni ! with me if you interact with r⌗pe / pedophillic / incest & stepcest / pro-shipping content

୨୧ dni ! if you spread or promote discourse, send anon hate, etc

୨୧ byf ! outside my writing, i thirst & yap a lot and what i say may be explicit ! also i’m fond of dark humor & controversial jokes so if you’re easily offended or overly political this isn’t the blog for you

୨୧ byf ! i’m fond of using pet names or flirting, it’s all jokes so don’t take it too seriously !

୨୧ byf ! i block blank, bot-looking blogs as well as spam likers (4+). spam liking can get me shadow banned so do reblog in between !

୨୧ don’t copy any of my works, themes, styles etc. if you’d like to take inspiration from any of my works, ask first. do not recreate any of my writings for another fandom. also don’t write any fics based on my character ramblings ( tagged as ・౨ৎ ─ 𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𓏲˚˖ ᵎᵎ ) without asking & if i say yes, credit me appropriately at the beginning of the fic.

୨୧ don’t translate my works, use them to ai train or re-upload them anywhere

୨୧ don’t bring any form of discourse to my blog or inbox

୨୧ don’t ask me to be moots. i moot naturally through asks & frequent interaction in general

୨୧ i may break moots if we don’t interact ( like at all, whether via posts, asks or dms ). ofc everyone is busy so as long as i don’t hard block you don’t take it personal ! we can eventually become moots again as long as i don’t block you. i just prefer to reserve moots for people i often interact with.

୨୧ don’t trauma dump in my ask box. i appreciate all my readers very dearly but i can’t help you the way a professional will. you’re free to ask for advice on whatever whenever though !

୨୧ on that note you’re free to joke with me in my inbox as i’m very far from sensitive, but anything straight up rude will be ignored. let’s keep it silly n respectful here !

୨୧ if we haven’t interacted before & i block you, don’t take it seriously. i may block simply because i’ve seen you on my dash too often for my liking. it’s no hard feelings at all !

── .✦ 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨ৎ

୨୧ i take suggestions for smaus & fics, not requests. but note that not every suggestion will get written as i write what interests me. do be patient however as i may simply be saving your suggestion for later.

୨୧ i do not write nsfw but my content is largely 16+. my works are at best heavily suggestive / sexually implicit but where i draw the line is fingering, oral sex or actual intercourse. that said, the worst you might see in my heavily suggestive works are groping or verbal kinks like degradation or daddy/mommy kink.

୨୧ even without explicitly stating i usually write my characters as adults (18+). this is because my content regularly contains themes such as drugs, alcohol, etc.

୨୧ i will write sensitive / deep topics such as anxiety, mental illnesses, depression & drug use but i will not write :

⌗ pedophilia / overly large age gaps. sugar daddy / baby relationship is fine provided both parties are written as legal adults

⌗ blasphemous themes

⌗ stepcest or any form of romance where the characters are related in some way, whether by blood or under law

୨୧ all my writings are fem reader. also i don’t bother myself with trying to make my works inclusive for everyone. if i write the reader with big boobs then you now have big boobs. let’s not complicate things y’all !

done reading ? congrats ! you may now board the s.s mars. here’s a map of the spaceship, enjoy your stay !

© — heartkaji ; do not steal, edit, translate or reupload.

[fullmusicbardsquared]

PLEASE HELP SARAH

i'm David- call me Dave! my pronouns are he/him & shark/sharks

🐟 I regularly blog about: MY OCS. I often post about my jukebox musical story Vinyl Hell (though I am currently on a 'hiatus' about it), and my other stories. they're 98% of what I draw, or ramble about, so be warned. they are all WIPs, and they are not very good, so questions or thoughts are always welcome, I like hearing them. ~ Talking Heads & David Byrne's solo work, the artists that have probably impacted me the most in my life. I blog about other music too. ~ Star Trek, most often TOS & TNG, though I have also recently been watching DS9 (about to start season 4). ~ the most recent movies I have seen. these may receive a tag, or not, it depends on how passionate I feel. if you like letterboxd, I have one ~ I was super into to JoJo's Bizarre Adventure (1-8) until like. last year. I am no longer reading it but I often reblog fanart that's on my dash, or the posts my friends make.

🦈 specific tags I use: #talking in my head (tag used for my general communication), #my art (self explanatory), #vinyl hell tag (where i put plot-related things for new wave ocs. Here is a brief overview of the 2 main characters, here is a lore masterpost), #my ocs (for anyone else / not lore important stuff), #fish on (tag for aquatic things), #my edits <3 (for when i color manga panels Badly), & #writing words in vague rhymes (where i make ""poetry"" you should critique).

🐟 Misc: feel free to block any tags you dislike! ~ I'm trans, & aromantic (aroace, but I prefer the aro label.) ~ I'm VERY STUPID. I am not saying this to be overly negative, I am just not very smart. do not argue this point with me. just know that I am not a good person to come to if you want analysis (though I am trying to get smarter). ~ if you care about neurodivergency, I am neurotypical*, so tell me if I do something wrong. ~ I am always love being critiqued on my writing or art! PLEASE DO THIS! I also like tags/comments in general, but critiques are extra important cause they help me get better! ~ I like a lot of silly & older things. I do not have an income or any kind of gaming platform, so I will basically never interact with tumblr's game | show | movie of the week.

*I have been informed that I am not, but only by my friends, and I don't wish to misrepresent myself

🦈 DNI: people who think aromantic & asexual people are not queer. zionists and people who think Palestine isn't experiencing a genocide.

sometimes I get emotional, upset, somewhat-depressed, or have suicidal feelings out of nowhere, but I usually get over it in a few minutes - if you see that, don't worry about it. I have trouble remembering what I did / felt when upset, so it stresses me out to have people worried about me

promo post for my friend's beautiful fanfiction.

okay some gifs from stuff I like & blinkies below.

these blinkies are gifts from @doyouremem8erme!

this blinkie was made by @cheezitofthevalley!

have a nice day..

[erisenyo]

4, 2 and 7???

2. How do you come up with your plot ideas?

For me, it usually starts with a particular scene or moment that catches my interest and builds from there by thinking through what would bring events to that point.

To use my Zukki series as an example, it started (via chat with Ash haha) with a scene--Sokka and Suki are trying to pick Zuko up, Zuko is oblivious to the point of absurdity, like they could skinny-dig in front of him and he would find a way to think it was just a friendship activity, and probably try to drown himself from embarrassment, and they'd try to rescue him and do CPR, and he'd be like moaning into it but also trying to hide his not-friends-boner--

So okay, we have this scene, and it's comedic. What would make it funnier? > If Sokka and Suki have been trying to pick him up for a while and they're at their wits end, just getting naked in front of him and seeing if that works.

Why would Zuko be oblivious to that extent? > Because he's actively working against himself, because he thinks he's going to ruin their friendship.

Why would he be worried about ruining friendships when Suki's practically sitting on his face? > Because he thinks his desire would be unwanted--like if he thinks Suki and Sokka are dating.

Why would he think they're dating? > Because he misread some exchange years ago and has been rolling with the assumption.

Why hasn't that assumption been corrected by Suki and Sokka? > Because they also misread an exchange years ago and have been rolling with their assumptions, and now they're scared to use their words.

And now we have a plot to start putting together :)

4. How do you channel characters' voices and personalities?

I start by writing down statements about the character, describing essentially their vibe and their major concerns. So when I was writing S1 Zuko for the first time, I had things like:

Z is into rules cause doing things the right way means you are safe- predictable - also need power to break the rules 

Things unspoken are a big deal in Zuko's life - he shouts and rages but he never says the quiet part out loud

Z views things through the lens of all the ways he is inadequate - he doesn't take risks to bridge interpersonal things - his father and Azula taught him it never works out - the one time he did he got banished 

Doesn’t lie because he can’t – gets shouty and avoidant instead

Does not ask for help, doesn’t beg, doesn’t say please

So this starts to give me a frame of reference now for how Zuko views the world, what he cares about, and how he'd react to things at this point in his journey, which I'll then translate into basically a set of notes and words and phrases for writing the character:

Zuko voice - more run on sentences, ands, long trains of thought

Zuko names the sensations and physical responses then slowly starts acknowledging emotions behind them

Z – emo angst, depressed, feeling useless awkward, short,– ellipses rather than dashes – overly full of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with

Thinks in degrees - curses like FN sailor - PTSD around water

Thinks in terms of waves washing over him, drowning him

Zuko actions/descriptors

Unimpressed looks, flat looks, blank, empty, impassive, still

Tentative, hesitant, uncertain, cautious, shy, wary

Concentration still, Awkward frozen, Rage immobile, Fear motionless

Huffs – exhales – silently laughs – blows out emotion

And then, to make Zuko's POVs feel distinct, I'll make sure other characters have different actions/descriptors and voices - if I compare character voice notes and they're too similar, I need to do more work. Sokka's, for example:

Sokka – protective, feels inadequate and that he needs to prove himself; persistent worry about inadequacies because he sees all the way things can spin out of control

Wants to be rational but really ruled by his heart – emotive

Tries to be buttoned up and macho but romanticism breaks through

Conflicted over what he wants vs needing to be seen as a leader

Thinks in terms of being lit on fire, consumed

Names his emotions

Thinks in hours

Talkative, rational, stressed, cynical, romantic at heart

Big gestures – talks with hands – emotive

Jokes to diffuse tension

Good of many > good of one individual

And now I have a lexicon of actions and descriptive words and ways of thinking/reacting that are unique to each character, to build up the feeling of each character and POV being separate and distinct.

7. How do you handle writer's block or moments of creative stagnation?

These are two different things for me! If I'm just feeling uninspired, wanting to write but not having inspiration for what, I'll turn to other people in the fandom. I take a lot of inspiration from other people's enthusiasm, so art can spark ideas, tag rambling, shit posts, screenshots of text exchanges someone tags with a character - I've made fics I really love off of all of that. I want to say at least 13 of my fics are gift fics or inspired by another work. Enthusiasm begets enthusiasm for me :)

(Which means it's pretty easy to inspire me to write something you want to see by just being really enthusiastic about the idea and like shit posting back and forth about it with me haha)

Usually when I'm stuck in a fic, though, it means that one of the character arcs isn't flowing right. I've found what works for me is to...

Go back to the start of the scene - is it starting in the right place? Too early, so it's taking too long to get to the relevant/fun stuff?

Write down what the scene is supposed to be doing - taking a step back to think technically about the purpose of the scene (to advance plot, characterization, conflict, etc.) often helps me see where I need to take it or how I need to reframe it

Write down what the larger portion of the is doing - this is more for longfics, but if I'm still stuck I'll step back even further and write down the themes, how the characters are growing, what their arc is supposed to look like - this frequently helps me realize that an arc itself needs to be reworked because of how I've written preceding scenes vs how I've planned

Scene map the whole fic - this is a dire last resort because it takes TIME, but if it still feels off, I step back even further and map chapter by chapter, character by character and interpersonal relationship by interpersonal relationship, what is happening vs what I think should be happening - and when I can see it all visually, I can see that something doesn't have space to breathe, or that a certain character isn't present enough, or that I'm not laying the groundwork for an arc - and then I can work on fixing things from there (example of what this looks like below the cut)

From this Questions for Fic Writers game!

Example of my trying to un-fuck my draft lol.

In case anyone was wondering, the solution was "you focused too much on Hakoda and forgot to give Sokka and Katara arcs" which does, somehow, feel very ironically appropriate

[julyofaugust]

Vignettes: String One

My face throbs, ever so slightly swollen and deeply flushed, a biological reflection of my deep state of frustration. “God help me, I may give up today.” Assumptions, I conclude, will be the death and doom of me. If it were welcomed by the unspoken rules of literature, I would dash my fingers across the keyboard and leave behind a trail of letters, asdfghjkl, foretold and concluded by nothing but the rage in my soul.

I am tired.

Yesterday’s sorrows and tomorrow’s joys pale in comparison with the heat that has now risen to the very lashline of my eyes. Suddenly, I understand the phrase, “eyes burning with rage.” It is, I now understand, a literal phrase as much as a metaphor.

Where did I stray? Let’s walk back to infancy.

My mother often complained to me during my childhood that I had been a difficult baby. I cried nightly, stopping only when she rocked me in a rickety little rocking chair. The moment she stopped rocking, even if she still held me, I’d burst back into tears. I needed the metronome-like motion. With my father, it was the beat of a drum, his heart, that lulled me to sleep. He would lay down on the shaggy carpet in the living room, place me on the left side of his chest, and together we would drift off to sleep.

I can’t help but think that even as an infant, I was desperate to be held in a steady, unending rhythm of love.

I’m walking now, grabbing onto everything as I make my way around the living room. I fall, giggle, and get back up. It’s a resilience that will stay with me, although the joyful spring in it rusts and breaks somewhere in my childhood.

My mother is exhausted, my father is breaking down putting bread on the table, and I find myself lost in the space in between it all. No longer the baby of the family, despised by my older sister for signifying the end of her 4-year reign as an only child, I whimper and reach out my hand. It grasps at empty air, and I feel myself begin to crumple into myself. An overly sensitive flower without enough sun, I’m not meant to survive in these conditions.

School somehow thrust itself upon me, and with it life’s chaos. Racist teachers and parents, my mother’s need for control now flaring, and the introduction of the concept of “being (un)cool.” I respond with a physical embodiment of my sadness: asthma.

Sure, it’s in the family. Sure, my mother worked in a factory producing car parts, often around powderized materials and chemicals. Sure, I was born in a bloodbath with my umbilical cord tied taut around my waist. (Clearly practicing fetal waist training in anticipation of patriarchal beauty expectations.) Sure, I had pneumonia at three years old.

And I also know that breathing felt laborious in a spiritual way as well. In ancient Chinese medicine, lung problems are thought to be strongly tied to sadness and depression. The vagus nerve runs through an opening in the diaphragm. This nerve is connected to the autonomous nervous system, the operator of our fight or flight (or freeze) impulses. Deep trauma can impede proper functioning of the vagus nerve, locking or entirely blocking the operation of those impulses.

I had trouble breathing. I also found it hard to smile.

I’m sobbing, trying to quietly release the waves that drown me from the inside out. My mother’s loud voice comes closer. I hear her look around the room, annoyed and impatient. The accordion-like closet door is pulled open. “Porque estas aqui? Ya deja de chillar. Ay.” She impatiently barks out a request, command, demand. I try to process the sudden burst of sunlight in my face, the loudness and intensity of her voice, and the palpable anger that seems to course through her waving arms and jutted hip. I’m afraid of it all, it is so loud. It’s almost unbearable, but I know I must face it lest it invades my personal space further, directly crashing into me in hand, an object, or spit-laced soundwaves.

My tears stop falling and I find in the clutter of my mind a mask to put on.

The pain rails against my spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical membranes.

I carry on.

In life, there is mortar and pestle.

There are those who break things down, for good and bad, some thoughtfully and others recklessly; they are active shapers of life.

Life’s many factors and elements are the ingredients being broken down. And sometimes, the world’s oppressed are “what” is broken down.

Holding all of that is the mortar. These are the people who passively shape the world. They are accomplices in the good and bad taking place. Either out of avoidance of decision-making, indecisiveness, or neutrality, they hold the space for and carry the fruits of pestle’s interactions with ingredients.

I strive to be a thoughtful, precise pestle, but often find myself a mortar that sympathizes with those ground and tries to reason with the pestle, or one ground that excuses the mortar and tries to reason with the pestle. In fact, in all honesty, it feels like I’m both mortar and ingredient, almost like I am the miniscule bits of mortar that gets broken down and blended in with the ingredients. At once, I am both passively present and helplessly transformed.

I had watched the chaos and heard the emotions thrown around. Like the winter cold that chilled my bones for hours after recess, both chaos and turbulent feelings began to seep inward, past my jacket. Before they could breach my skin, I turned and began walking past the tetherball court, towards the soccer field.

“Sarah, get back here!” My infuriated peer let out a string of objections in her lilting, almost redneck rendition of English. I began to turn my head, hearing Sarah’s voice boom toward me. Step by step, she got closer. My eyes widened, and like a deer, I froze in her path. Like a semi-truck, she barreled forward, her frenzied red curls jolting with every step.I suppose all she saw was red, and perhaps with my flushed cheeks, I blended right in.

Whatever it was, she didn’t see me and her left shoulder crashed into me just as I tried to step out of the way. Her path of motion was unswayed, but my frail little body flew into the tetherball pole, with the bony, tender place behind an ear being the metal’s point of direct impact.

I found myself in the office, being inspected by a nurse and the secretary. My head was swollen and my head throbbed in pain. My brows were furrowed, but not in concern for me. “Is Sarah going to get into trouble for hurting me? I don’t want her to get in trouble. I know she didn’t see me.”

And it’s true. I saw her face snap down towards me when she sent me flying. Surprise, then guilt, then shame flooded her face. She was a soul swollen and throbbing in pain from her life’s circumstances. Just like my head, she was hurting. And just like the ice, all the social workers in the world could not resolve the pain. They helped her soften her reactions, but they could not undo the impactful events she experienced. And while I made contact with the metal pole once, she faced impact after impact everyday, with compounding symptoms. I felt for her–arguably more than I felt for myself.

The adults chuckled in a way I was unfamiliar with at the time. I now know it to be nervous laughter. They looked at each other instinctively as they let this reaction out.

I think that was the moment they recognized me as a mortar, mortar fragment. They knew then what I was to find out in the coming years.

[constantviewings]

Seven Weeks of Films: 16th November - 13th January

All I’m going to say about this gap is that I worked in retail over the holidays...

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

World-famous detective Benoit Blanc heads to Greece to peel back the layers of a mystery surrounding a tech billionaire and his eclectic crew of friends.

We all know how much I love the first Knives Out (it’s one of my top 5) and I try to make a habit of rewatching it at least once a year. This is a great second entry to what I hope is many more Benoit Blanc movies. I don’t love it as much as the first, but it holds up really well in comparison; I watched it three times in five days if that tells you anything... One thing that does disappoint me that I didn’t notice until the credits rolled was that this entry doesn’t have the same film grain effect as Knives Out, whether that is chalked up to a difference in production or for aesthetics of old money vs new money is up to interpretation.

Rating: 5

The Menu

A young couple travels to a remote island to eat at an exclusive restaurant where the chef has prepared a lavish menu, with some shocking surprises.

I only just watched this the other day and, like Glass Onion, I have already watched it twice because of how much I love it. I’ve seen some differing opinions, particularly those criticising the film for taking itself too seriously but isn’t that kind of the point? Mind you, I went in knowing almost nothing outside of the cast and the title which only enhanced my experience. Anya Taylor-Joy is phenomenal as always and is partnered beautifully by Ralph Fiennes and Nicholas Hoult. 

Rating: 5

Get Out

Chris and his girlfriend Rose go upstate to visit her parents for the weekend. At first, Chris reads the family's overly accommodating behavior as nervous attempts to deal with their daughter's interracial relationship, but as the weekend progresses, a series of increasingly disturbing discoveries lead him to a truth that he never could have imagined.

Let’s not talk about how long it took for me to watch this and instead focus on how great it is, which everyone already knows because i’m five years too late...

Rating: 5

Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical

An extraordinary young girl discovers her superpower and summons the remarkable courage, against all odds, to help others change their stories, whilst also taking charge of her own destiny. Standing up for what's right, she's met with miraculous results.

I’m a massive fan of both the 1996 movie and the musical that this adaptation is based on so I had somewhat high hopes going into this that were, unfortunately, dashed after the opening song. They cut out basically everything to do with the Wormwoods, including the bother Michael, when they’re songs are the funniest ones. There is also a departure from the original feel of the musical, where the stage show is bright and campy the movie is grimey and depressing; which I find so strange considering the director also directed the original production.

Rating: 3

Don’t Pick Up the Phone

This docuseries follows the investigation into a hoax caller who talked managers into strip-searching employees at fast food businesses across the US.

As we all know, I don’t review or rate documentaries, the synopsis tells you all you need to know, it’s a grim watch.

[piningbuddies]

🔥 anything about buck

bestie 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

okay, i’ve curated my dash to hell and back so we’re all pretty in agreement over here, but i think my main one is that buck is very mentally unwell, and has been for a long while. ever since the shooting, much of his behaviour screams depression and anxiety to me. the way he’s hesitant in approaching people when he never used to be, the whole anxious attachment he has with romantic partners, the way sometimes he’s overly enthusiastic about things. maybe a lot of this is just me projecting, but when i’m in a depressive episode and i’m trying to mask it, i tend to over compensate and swing waaaaay too hard in the other direction. i talk and talk and talk even if nobody’s listening, i’ll just keep going.

i feel like buck has a lot of unresolved issues that he needs to work on, between his childhood, everything that happened with the shooting, the ladder truck. he’s had a really rough few years and it’s starting to get on top of him and he’s spiralling hard and making extremely bad decisions as a result. i believe that’s going to continue until he has a wake-up call. something to shock him into getting his own form of help and getting well. (i remember oli saying in an interview that buck was still in therapy even if we weren’t seeing it, maybe he could go to more sessions?)

send me a 🔥 and i’ll talk about an unpopular opinion (preferably with a topic)

[altocat]

There appears to be a sad cuddle bug going around! Can we get some hcs similar to the Seph comfort ones for Angeal and Genesis? Your hcs abt Angeal and Gen’s mental qualms makes me wanna hug em and just comfort them 🥺

Awwww babies 😭

Angeal is the most logical and put together of the trio so he's the best at regulating his emotions.

But whenever he's down, he likes cuddling and scrunching up in bed. You get to rub his chest and remind him that he's doing a great job and that he'll always have value. He doesn't like big extravagant comfort gifts because of his frugal upbringing. But he might be touched if you make him a nice dinner or show him something productive you did or made thanks to him. Angeal is usually the quickest to cheer up, and will do his best to live each day at a time. And he'll do it with the ones he loves. Angeal probably has the strongest strength of character out of the three when it comes to withstanding stressors which makes his instability and subsequent death in CC all the more shocking and heartbreaking. But in this, he's okay. You're here. And he's done a good job. And that's what matters. ❤️

Genesis is a different story. He has two modes whenever he's in need of comfort--OVERLY DRAMATIC THEATRICS THAT DEMAND YOUR ATTENTION or him not pretending and being genuinely depressed and numb. For the former, it's cute to indulge him and let him whine and complain while you fuss over him. He loves being doted on, maybe while you feed him grapes or pretend to indulge his Loveless recitals during a cuddle. He likes pampering and will happily submit to whatever you have in mind, and often completely forgets he's upset because he feels just so darn pleased and smug at all the attention. Flattery is the key. Gen is the prettiest, strongest, most dashing hero in all of Shinra! The greatest! The best! Etc. He eats that up.

If it's the latter and he's genuinely depressed, Genesis really doesn't actually move or say or do much besides lay there bundled in the sheets. He and Seph can be similar in that they often have periods where they both just isolate themselves when upset. But while Sephiroth is prone to traumatic episodes or hidden anxiety attacks, Genesis just...doesn't move. At all. He just lays there listlessly for hours or even days. When he's like this, it's best to just give him lots of pets and make sure he's taking in some food and water. Stay close to him and speak very gently. Genesis doesn't often have depression phases like this. But when he does, they're very serious. He has them a lot after Crisis Core, sleeping for hours and hours, trying to block out his guilt and regret. And it takes a really heavy toll on him. It's just best to keep him bundled and quiet, let him ride it out. Put some soft music on in the background for soothing ambiance. Let him look out the window to see how nice it is out. That stuff.

Sad soft babies hhhhhh 😭😭😭

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

For Day 6: Modern!AU of @patrochillesweek​ 2021! High school AU, where Patroclus is the new kid in school, and Achilles a teacher’s pet and a menace. Academic rivals with a dash of pining, ~2.9k words, Part 1/3 :)

Read here or on Ao3!

Chapter 3: On a Sunny Tuesday Afternoon, The Late Sunlight Glowing In Your Hair

The new school was, by far, the largest Patroclus had been in.

There was a football field and a basketball court and a pool, and the domed ceiling of the main hall was so high, the top of it disappeared into the shadows overhead.

Patroclus stood in the midst of it, his backpack hanging limply over his shoulder.

“Well? What do you think?”

He turned to look at Briseis beside him. She had been the very first person to speak to him the moment he set foot in the place earlier that morning. Mr Chiron, the headteacher, had tasked her with showing him around before they would all gather for the first class, and she had jumped at the chance. Patroclus had a feeling she would have done so even if nobody had asked her to.

He gave her a small smile, trying his best to hide his nervousness. He never liked the first couple of days in a new school overly much, though he was kind of used to it now. “It’s… big.”

“Right?” She beamed, her dark brown eyes gleaming. “Wait till you see the library. You’re going to be scooping your jaw off the floor.”

“There’s a library?” Patroclus asked, instantly perking up. His last school didn’t have one; or, rather, it did, but it had closed down after a small fire had caught there three years before, and no one had bothered to repair it and open it up for the students again.

Briseis laughed, her high ponytail swinging as she tilted her head back. She had thick, lustrous dark brown hair that shimmered in the light. “My goodness, of course there is! We’re not animals. Well, at least not all of us. Come.” She took his hand. “I’ll show you.”

He let her guide him through the corridors, the sunlight flickering when they passed before the windows that lined the walls. The courtyard was filled with students talking excitedly, catching up after the long summer break, lying on the grass and soaking the last of the sun before getting back into class.

Grass. Another thing that would take Patroclus a while to get used to. Most of the schoolyards he’d seen so far were plain concrete, without a single tree in sight. Quite depressing, all things considered, but after a while it simply blended into the background.

“Mr Chiron lets us borrow as many books as we like, as long as we return them on time,” Briseis said excitedly, her arm wound through his. Her hair smelled of her subtle floral perfume, the scent of it wafting every time her ponytail bounced this way and that. “He’s very kind, actually, and he knows so many things. Really, I’m not sure there’s something this man doesn’t know, especially when it comes to the classics. And he’s always eager to help. If you need anything, just—”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by loud laughter, which rose from a group of people to their left. Boys and girls were gathered under the shade of an oak tree, talking and laughing amidst themselves, music blasting from someone’s phone. It didn’t take long for Patroclus to know they were the popular kids; he’d been to so many different schools, that he could recognise them straight away.

Polished hair, fancy clothes, expensive shoes. The noise they made was enough to grab the attention of everyone in the yard. The football team, no doubt, judging by the gym bags hanging off of most of the boys’ shoulders, and the cheerleaders with them, perhaps.

Patroclus’ gaze almost slid right off them and he kept on walking— that had never been never his crowd, no matter where he found himself— but a flash of… something unexpected made it snag, like fabric on a hook. It was the morning sun’s reflection on a blonde head, the colour so rich and vibrant that it looked as if made of gold. Patroclus' eyes zoomed in on the owner of said head before he could stop them. He was leaning against the tree trunk, hands in his pockets, smiling slightly at something someone was saying to him. He stood tall, his pose easy and relaxed, his self-assured smile only a touch indifferent. Confidence seemed to radiate off of him like heat.

The boy turned to look at him, then, straight at him, and Patroclus realised that just as he had never seen hair as golden, he had never seen eyes as green either. They cut right through him, pinning him in place. Patroclus stared, despite himself.

It was as if time had stopped for the briefest of moments; the single beat of a butterfly's wings.

Then, just like that, it was over. The boy's gaze slid off of him soon after, like water off oiled leather, taking a tiny bit of that heat away with it. The sun traced the side of his angular jaw, his high cheekbones, the line of his smooth throat.

Briseis clicked her tongue and moved straight on. “Ugh, they’re all so loud and annoying. Why they would think that everyone wants to hear that terrible music they keep playing, I’ll never understand.”

“Who… are they?” Patroclus asked, following her, though he knew the answer already.  

“The jocks and the cheerleaders, and whoever else they deem fit to join their company. Pay them no mind. As long as you stay out of their way, they’ll stay out of yours.”

Patroclus swallowed, nodding. He burned to ask her who that boy he had seen was, but he held his tongue.

Knowing when to speak and when to stay silent: that was something he’d picked up from the many schools he’d visited as well.

~

“So,” Mr Chiron said in his booming, yet somehow still deep and gentle voice, “last year we talked about the wars between ancient Greek states, particularly the Peloponnesian war. Who remembers the names of the main forces that fought in that war?”

Patroclus’ book on ancient Greek history was open before him, but he didn’t need to check it to know the answer. He started to raise his hand, but Briseis was faster, her hand jolting up above her head.

“Yes, Briseis?”

“The Delean league, led by the Athenians, and the Peloponnesian league, led by the Spartans,” she said, sitting straight in her chair.

“Very well. And who were the prominent figures of each army?”

The answer was quick to come, from somewhere to the far end of the class. The blonde boy that Patroclus had glimpsed in the yard was sitting lazily in his chair, arms folded before his chest. His desk was bare; he hadn’t even bothered to take his textbooks and his notebooks out of his bag yet. “Lysander on the side of the Spartans, Alcibiades on the side of the Athenians.”

“Good, good.” Mr Chiron stroked his short beard, pacing slowly across the classroom. “Who can tell me what Alcibiades was known for?”

“Besides being Socrates’ lover, you mean?” he drawled, to which several chuckles rose. Patroclus blinked, taken aback that he would speak to Mr Chiron in such a way. Not only that, but the fact that he had so casually dropped such a detail from Plato’s Symposium , which had never even been part of the taught material in school, was enough to stir Patroclus’ curiosity.

Mr Chiron glanced at him over his glasses. “No, Pelides,” he said, stern but still somehow amused. “Not quite.”

Pelides —as Mr. Chiron had called him— quirked a brow. “Not for lack of trying.”

That made the boys snicker even more and the girls grin behind their hands. Pelides’ lips curled in a satisfied smirk, not losing even a tiny bit of that unshakeable confidence. Mr Chiron, instead of reprimanding him, shook his head fondly. Smart, handsome and well-read, an athlete and a teacher’s pet, arrogant yet still likeable.

Who was he, exactly?  

“It is true that Alcibiades was notorious for having pursued Socrates relentlessly for a while after the two first met. Still, this isn’t quite what the man was most well known for. Ah.” The kindly teacher’s eyes fell to Patroclus, who had raised his hand timidly again. “Menoitiades. Care to tell us?”

Patroclus took a deep breath, ignoring the eyes that drifted in his direction. They never failed to make him uneasy. “For his unconventional battle strategies,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “He relied on his cunning to win challenging battles, breaking sieges and taking over towns through treachery and negotiations rather than brute force. That earned him powerful enemies, but also powerful allies, the Athenian orator Demosthenes being one of them. After his success in the Battle of Hellespont, he was considered a military genius, though not without his flaws. Many believed him conceited and reckless, his excessive self-confidence often leading him to overwhelming failures. Like the Sicilian expedition, for instance, which ended with the Athenians losing almost the entirety of their fleet. They never quite recovered from that; Alcibiades was thought to be one of the main reasons Athens ultimately lost the war.”

Silence followed his words after he was done. Everyone was staring at him now. Even Pelides had shifted in his chair to look at him, his jade green eyes piercing him to the bone. Patroclus swallowed, snapping his mouth shut. “Or so it is said, at least,” he mumbled, hunching his shoulders slightly.

Mr Chiron’s head was tilted to the side in curiosity. “Yes,” he said. “Precisely. Very well said. I’m surprised you know about the Sicilian expedition; we didn’t touch upon it last year. I don’t think it was even in last year’s book—”

“It isn’t,” Patroclus said hastily, already regretting having gotten carried away like that. “I just… like to read.”

“I can see that,” Mr Chiron nodded appreciatively. He turned towards the rest of the class, clearing his throat. “Now. Everyone, open your textbooks on page three.”

Patroclus focused on the page before him, warmth creeping up his cheeks. He could still feel Pelides’ eyes from across the room, fixed unwavering on him.

He dared not look up to meet them.

~

Patroclus had always been a good student. Straight A’s, top-of-the-class kind of student. His teachers usually loved him for his quiet and respectful demeanour, and he was given the privilege of handling the class attendance book more often than not, something that had always been reserved for those deemed most responsible.  He had thought that this would be the case in this school, as well.

Apparently, it was not. Not when Pelides was around— and he was around . History, Ancient Greek, Latin, Maths, Science and Philosophy: there were hardly any courses that they didn’t share, and no course at all that he wasn’t stellar at. He usually knew all the answers, and delivered them with infuriating self-assurance, something that exasperated and entertained the teachers to no end.

Patroclus wasn’t competitive by nature. He simply wanted to do well— no, he wanted to do more than well. He always tried his best, studied hard enough that his grades were the best they could be, his teachers satisfied and his father had no reason to scold him. Competitiveness had nothing to do with it. But, when it came to Pelides, Patroclus wanted to do better, be better. Every time the teacher called Patroclus’ name instead of his, his heart lurched just a little in his chest with that tiny triumph. He would answer as thoroughly as he could, knowing he would impress him. Yet, even when Pelides was first to answer, Patroclus couldn’t help but listen to what he had to say, every time more enthralled than the last. The way his eyes sparkled in satisfaction and his face brightened ever so slightly, the way he twirled his pens with his long fingers while he spoke… And those glances over his shoulder, curiosity mixed with a strange sort of pride, his smooth cheeks framed by the waves of his golden hair—

There was something about him.

Patroclus couldn’t put his finger on it. Soon, he found himself studying more than he ever had, well into the small hours of the morning, just for a chance to prove himself to him, to best him. To have those eyes on him, even for a fleeting second.  

~

It was a late Tuesday afternoon, and Patroclus was in the cafeteria with Briseis and the other girls. It was their last long break of the day before the final classes would take place and they would be free to go home. The girls were talking animatedly about this and that, but Patroclus barely heard them. His Science textbook was open in his lap, his headphones blocking out most of the noise. He thumbed the music on high, getting lost in mechanical oscillation theory.

The table before him quaked when something landed on it.

Patroclus looked up, startled, the book almost falling out of his grasp. Then, he stared.

And stared.

Pelides was sitting squarely on the table before him. His aureate locks were gathered up in a bun, damp from his shower after football practice. Stray strands caressed his perfectly shaped ears, his petal smooth forehead.

How can someone’s skin be so soft? Patroclus wondered idly through his shock and his haze. Even from that close, he could not find a single blemish.

Pelides’ mouth moved, yet no sound came out.

Right. The headphones.

Patroclus switched off the music and pulled his headphones back, letting them hang around his neck.

“Hello,” Pelides said.

“Uh…” Patroclus swallowed, feeling the familiar flush rushing to his cheeks. “Hello? Hi.”

“I’m Achilles. Achilles Pelides.”

“Right,” Patroclus said thickly, “I know you.”

“Yeah. We’re in most classes together. I thought I’d come to say hello.” Achilles smiled brightly at him. “So. Hello.”

Patroclus stared stupidly. He didn’t quite know what to say. “Um… yeah. Hello.”

The girls around the table had stopped talking, gawking at them instead. Patroclus glanced around him, at the heads that were slowly turning in their direction.

“You’re Menoitiades, right?” Achilles tilted his head to the side. God, even that tiny movement was done with more grace than Patroclus would achieve at any point in his life. “It’s been a week, and I still don’t know your first name.”

“Patroclus,” he said hastily, blurring the syllables like he usually did when he was nervous. “But everyone calls me Pat. You can call me that.”

“Patroclus,” Achilles said in his soft, melodious voice. “Pa-tro-clus.” He smiled just a little, the late afternoon sun that streamed in through the window glossing his hair, the angles and planes of his face, the delicate curve of his neck. “It’s a beautiful name. I’m going to call you that, if you don’t mind.”

Patroclus' palms were damp and clammy in his lap; he wiped them on his trousers. No one had ever said his name like this before, slow and purposeful. Patroclus had never liked his name much, but coming from him it sounded different. Almost… special. His heart clawed at his chest like a cat kennelled in his ribs.

“I— I don’t mind,” Patroclus replied, mouth dry as a chip. “I don’t mind at all.”

A brief moment of silence passed before Achilles spoke again. He cleared his throat, taking on a serious expression. “There’s a Latin test coming up next week,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was wondering— I mean, I was thinking— would you like to study with me?”

Patroclus gaped like a fish out of water. “Study?” he echoed.

“Sure. You’re rather good at it, yeah? I've seen you in class. I thought— well, I could use your help.” He paused, considering, “Or you could use mine. You know, strength in unity.” He smiled hopefully, and something warm curled in Patroclus’ belly. “So, what do you say?”

Patroclus' pulse soared, throbbing in his throat. He could feel all eyes in the cafeteria turned to them, but for once he didn’t care. Achilles’ attention on him eclipsed everything else in the room, the noise and chatter turning into distant whispers under the searing heat of his gaze.  

“Yes,” Patroclus whispered. He couldn't have uttered a different answer even if he tried. “Yes.”

Achilles beamed, a smile brighter than the sun that fell about him like a halo. “Great. That’s great.” He deftly hopped off the table, slinging his backpack over his shoulder with the grace of a feline. “Meet me at the library after school?”

Patroclus nodded, his tongue too numb in his mouth to form words.

“Awesome.” Achilles grinned before he turned around.

Patroclus sat perfectly still for a long while, staring after him.

What on earth had just happened?

“What was that?” Briseis hissed in his ear, coming to sit beside him. “Did I hear correctly? Did Pelides ask you to study together?”

“Yeah… I think that’s what happened. Is that what really happened?” He could have dreamed it all.

“Of course that’s what happened! I was right here. I heard everything. I just — you know— wanted to make absolutely sure.” Her ponytail bounced vigorously as she shook her head. “Be careful with him. He’s an oddball.”

Patroclus looked at her curiously. “How so?”

“He’s friendly with pretty much everyone, but no one really knows him. You know?" She frowned at Achilles' back as he walked away. "Here and there he goes with his entourage, but ask anyone what he likes to do in his free time and no one will be able to tell you. They say he has a black belt in tae kwon do and that he’s unbeatable at high jump, but no one knows for sure. And he never studies with anyone else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him study, period; he just shows up in class knowing everything. Don’t know how he does it. Pretty annoying, that.” She pouted in thought, her rosy lips pursing. “He doesn’t really let anyone close, and everyone has their own theories about him. The guy’s a mystery.”

Patroclus gazed in Achilles’ direction. His back was straight and his shoulders swung ever so slightly as he walked, his legs moving with the grace of a dancer. He was part of the crowd yet seemed separate from it, a star in orbit, shining the brightest because it stood alone.

“Yes,” Patroclus agreed quietly. “He is.”

**

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) If you enjoyed this, I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3

[ninjabelle]

Key-points in Berserk if Guts was allowed to act on his emotions where Griffith’s involved - Meta

There is a theme with regards to Guts always wanting to run to Griffith when he is feeling emotionally shaken up and vulnerable and though it happens a bunch of times in a lot of subtle ways all throughout Berserk the 3 that majorly stand out to me are - going back in time - the hill of swords, primrose hall and after the Zodd fight when Griffith’s recovering.

Let’s start there, and this is also a direct (long winded lmao, forgive me) response to this reply by @bthump about what I wish had gone differently.

When Griffith gets injured after fighting Zodd together Guts wants to see him. I forget the exact timeline but I’m pretty sure this is effectively immediately after. As soon as he’s able to, but he’s stopped by Caska and whatever it was that he wanted to say or do gets put on hold until his talk with Griffith outside later on when, surprise surprise, they get interrupted again. This is also a theme and another recurring, deliberate one. Guts never gets to have a true heart to heart with Griffith and vice versa and this is something that drives the plot forward because otherwise those two would’ve run off into the sunset together long before the eclipse ever had a chance of happening. The whole of Berserk rests on the fact that Guts and Griffith have unfinished business and the entire story takes a nosedive into the dark and depressing once Guts overhears Griffith’s speech to Charlotte at primrose because, again, he’s stopped by Caska (again!! poor girl gets done so dirty every time she gets used like that but that’s meta for another time) and he does not have the opportunity to speak with Griffith about how deep that affected him either.

So, back to just after the first Zodd fight, though he doesn’t seem as deeply wounded and emotionally raw as he was after accidentally kebabbing Adonis while trying to get to Julius, I believe he was deeply shaken up by the whole Zodd encounter regardless, not to mention the thought of Griffith being injured, the guilt - god, the guilt, between the two of them I don’t know who would win when it comes to sheer amounts, but the key difference is that Griffith’s guilt morphs into self-loathing and ruthless actions and Guts’ guilt manifests as self doubt and a recklessness and disregard for his own safety that gets thrown back into his face when Griffith shows time and time again that he’s willing to put himself at risk to protect Guts in spite of all that. Imagine what a shock to Guts’ system that was, to be seen like that. It’s what he still wants, even now wayyyy post-eclipse.

If he hadn’t been stopped that very first time, I imagine him storming into that room and demanding Griffith explain why he risked his life again. His handling of the guards earlier and the fact that he never, not once during the golden age gave a single shit about politics and standing and propriety and would only participate for Griffith's sake speak volumes, because in that moment of intense feeling and on a quest for answers he moves on emotions alone, like he does in battles, where he goes with his gut instead of strategizing, and it helps the Hawks win, because he is the perfect wild card and so complementary to Griffith's more analytical nature. You could argue that emotive Guts = best Guts, but when it comes to directing them at Griffith in a productive way he always gets stopped one way or another, and I mean every. single. time.

In a perfect world Guts gets to storm into the room, where they’re alone and they do not get interrupted and instead of a non answer like ‘do I need a reason?’ Griffith would tell him exactly why, and the only you made me forget my dream is said to Guts’ face instead of thought during Griffith’s despair event horizon. Guts probably wouldn’t even know how to process that and would promptly leave the room to think that over, or not think about it and swing his sword some in frustration, but crucially that would have created an opening and a version of Berserk where Guts is mercifully allowed to seek out Griffith when his emotions dictate that he should.

So then, even if the story unfolds the same after this and Griffith still makes his speech to Charlotte and Guts still wants to see him that night because he just did something horrible and needs comfort, even if Caska gets thrown in front of him again to stop him there would be an opening - because it was allowed to happen before, and last time he learned he meant more to Griffith than he could have ever imagined, maybe he would know to take Griffith’s words about equals and see them for what they really are instead of feeling so horribly incompetent and resolving to leave.

In a perfect world he seeks Griffith out afterwards, and tells him he overheard, and Griffith would probably panic and start babbling politics as damage control, and Guts would throw in a ‘what are we?’ and Griffith would look into his eyes and say ‘you’re so much more to me than an equal’ (I’ll write the fic someday, I promise) and then... well. All I’m saying is when Guts is allowed to be emotionally vulnerable when he’s alone with Griffith that would give Griffith the boost of confidence he needs to finally open up and tell the truth about his own feelings. Because Guts isn’t alone there, Griffith’s just as emotional, just as fragile, if he allowed someone close. He’s just better at pushing all that down until his indifference becomes a mask he wears and a weapon he wields.

He could overcome it, but it starts with Guts, he’s the catalyst, as the only one that could have ended Griffith’s dream that’s only fair.

Now last but not least, the hill of swords.

In a perfect world, the eclipse never happened because Guts, knowing his true worth in Griffith’s heart, would never leave. And even if he did, for whatever other reason, having opened up to someone would have made Griffith a hell of a lot less repressed, and less likely to hit a point of despair so strong it triggers the behelit. After all, it wasn’t the torture that broke him.

But.

The eclipse does happen, and even then, with all the bad blood between them and al that hurt and anger Guts still want to run to Griffith. There is a reason why my favorite moment in the whole entire manga is that scene. It’s just- mwah. Kissing my fingers. So good. I almost have no words. Almost.

Guts, for a moment, forgets that he has to kill Griffith. And I say has because wants does not feel right to me. I don’t believe Guts, nor Griffith, nor Caska or anyone in the story for that matter really ever gets to do what they want. In the world of Berserk desire is a ticket that leads straight to tragedy. But Guts has to kill Griffith, and he forgets himself for a moment and is ready to run to him, and in that moment I see the echo of all the moments before where he wanted to do the same thing and was stopped.

Again it’s Caska that jolts him back to reality and his rage and away from Griffith, who even as Femto draws Guts in. Who even after everything he’s done has Guts standing there with wide eyes and the whole of his body straining towards him. Now if this sounds overly romanticized to you I say this, look again. That’s Guts, again, vulnerable and raw and hurt, and to who does he want to go? I guarantee if Zodd hadn’t whisked Griffith away when Guts went on his mad dash to run him through with a sword under the pretense of rescuing Caska it would not have been her he’d locked eyes with first.

Do I believe they would have talked heart to heart, even in that setting? I doubt it. But if Caska hadn’t been involved, and Zodd was nowhere to be seen I wonder what could’ve been said. I imagine Griffith as Femto wouldn’t have let Guts come close enough to physically harm his brand new body, but perhaps if he was slightly less in denial about no longer feeling anything he would have let Guts rant and rave and cry out all his anger instead of flying off, and maybe in seeing the pain in Guts for what it truly is - betrayal over hatred, a broken heart over unstoppable righteous fury - that would have made it easier for his heart to thaw, and perhaps then at least he would know that he meant more to Guts, like Guts meant more to him. And Guts, would he admit that to himself? That it’s not just anger and hatred he feels for Griffith? It gets hinted he knows that damn well several times post-eclipse, that the anger and hatred is just a front, the beast of darkness whispers it to him all the time. But it never gets to go somewhere, because he’s not alone with Griffith when it happens. Even now, even as enemies instead of comrades he’s still not allowed to be near Griffith when his emotions demand of him that he should be.

And that’s a damn shame.

Ninja out~

[ryqoshay]

OTP Ask Meme (Impatient Edition) NicoMaki

Yeah, I know the point of these things is to wait for followers to Ask questions from the list, but reading though this one got me thinking too much. And, as the title implies, I got impatient and wanted to answer them all. Right away.

Anyway, credit to @lonelypond​ for this version coming across my dash. Reblog that version if you want to do this thing correctly.

Also, just because I’ve already answered these here, I’ve expanded on some for various reasons and left others short if I believe the reasons are obvious. So if you still want to do the whole interactive thing, you can still ask for clarification or whatever.

And finally, there will be spoilers ahead for How to Handle a Nico, both scenes I’ve written and posted, as well as some that remain in my Notes and WIP Warehouse. I’ll try to remember to link to the chapters mentioned.

1. Who wakes up first?

Nico, so she can make breakfast for her Maki.

2. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Maki. Usually because she studies or works later and/or longer hours. She is also not above pulling Nico back into bed when she comes to wake her.

3. Who takes longer getting ready?

Usually Nico.

4. When they can’t sleep, what do they do?

Maki’s libido can pretty much always be counted on to at least exhaust Nico, if not both of them.

5. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

Depends on who had a rough day or week at work/school, though Maki may get bored and either watch Nico or fall asleep during overly sappy romance movies.

6. Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

Either, depending on the stresses of the prior day.

7. Who comes up with the cheesy pick-up lines?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally.

8. Who gets extremely competitive playing Mario Kart?

They both are, though in different ways. This is depicted in Consolation Prize.

9. Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling?

Maki, especially if she is in an unfamiliar place.

10. Who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back?

Both, though Maki only in retaliation for whatever teasing Nico may have done.

11. Who rearranges the bookshelf/DVD shelf in alphabetical order?

Nico likes a proper presentation of her idol merch. Maki is too busy with other stuff to care about special organization.

12. Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing?

Nico.

13. Who points out a dog when they see one?

Either.

14. Who’s prone to road rage?

Maki, especially when she is trying to get to the hospital when called in at some odd hour, or trying to get home after a stressful day.

15. Who’s prone to wearing socks indoor (or to sleep)?

Nico gets cold easier. Warm socks help.

16. Who reminds the other to put on sunscreen before going to the beach (or pool)?

Nico, partly out of habit from doing it with her siblings and partly as an excuse to offer to help Maki put it on. Depicted in Sunscreen.

17. Who carries all the important documents while traveling?

Nico.

18. Who gets the window seat?

Nico. Maki traveled enough with her parents and is happy to let her girlfriend see the sights instead.

19. Who puts their cold hands/feet on the other?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally, usually.

20. What do they argue about the most?

I don’t believe anyone has been brave enough to track the data for this.

21. Who’s clumsier?

Maki, especially in the kitchen. Nico has her moments though.

22. Who texts more often?

Nico. With heavy emoji use. (I need to depict this more in HtHaN somehow)

23. Who is better with kids?

Nico. She was the primary caregiver for her siblings for many years after all.

24. Who’s the better cook?

Nico. See above.

25. Who mistakes salt for sugar?

Maki. Even after Nico labeled the containers.

26. Who puts the fork in the microwave?

Maki.

27. Who cooks at 2 in the morning?

Nico. Maki isn’t allowed to cook without Nico’s supervision. However, this would be a rare occasion as Nico typically will prepare something ahead of when Maki is arriving home this late and leave it for her to reheat.

28. Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m.?

Maki, when she’s reheating whatever Nico made for her after arriving home late.

29. Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

Both.

30. Who likes doing the dishes?

Nico, though it would be more appropriate to say she doesn’t dislike it.

31. Who has bigger cravings? What are they?

Nico loves her sweets. Maki loves her Nico.

32. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Nico is highly attentive to Maki’s preferences in food. Knowing what Maki likes in restaurants lets her know what she can make at home. And food is definitely one of the best ways to Maki’s heart.

33. How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

Nico likes sundaes with lots of sugary toppings. She also likes trying new flavors and will often get multiple scoops of different flavors. Maki is fine with a single scoop cone.

34. Do they go on dates? What are they like?

As often as their schedules allow. Maki likes quite dates like walks in a park or museum or sitting up on a hillside for stargazing. Nico likes shopping for outfits and idol merch, going to movies and bustling amusement parks. But both love watching the other enjoy their hobbies so they’re willing to go along with the other’s interests as well.

35. What do they smell when they smell Amortentia?

Nico smells her father’s aftershave, strawberries, and stewing tomatoes. Maki smells Nico’s special tomato curry, Nico’s shampoo, and the cinnamon sugar of the snickerdoodle cookies the Nishikino baker made for her to leave out for Santa.

Yes, two of Maki’s are directly related to Nico. What can I say? She’s addicted.

36. Which one is the secret snuggler?

Maki. The more tired or drunk she is, the clingier she gets.

37. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

Maki. Nico gets cold easier, so Maki is usually the one to offer her jacket.

38. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?

Yes.

39. Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch?

Nico, because she is the only one who makes lunch for them both; Maki isn’t the type to do such a thing even if she were allowed to cook more. (Bonus: What does it say?) Usually the messages are simple affirmations of love, but she is not above getting snarky if the two had an argument recently.

40. Who is the most affectionate?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

41. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Usually, Maki is the big spoon as she is quite fond of hugging her Nico like a teddy bear, though Nico will sometimes jetpack.

42. What is their favorite feature of their partner?

Maki loves Nico’s smile, particularly her genuine, unforced, non-idol persona smile. Nico loves Maki’s voice, specifically her singing voice.

43. What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Nico starts teasing Maki more, no longer to “put the spoiled rich girl in her place” but rather to see more of the adorable reactions. Maki actively tries to deny her feelings, even to, or perhaps especially to herself, falling back on established habits of insisting that she doesn’t have time to date, all the while quietly continuing to seek more time with Nico.

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

Both exclusively use -chan with the other.

45. Who worries the most? Over what?

Early on, both are worried about losing the other for different reasons. Nico is afraid that should a scandal occur that ruins her idol career, Maki may blame herself and leave. Maki fears that a busy schedule of studying in medical school followed by long hours at the hospital may turn away someone like Nico, whose attention seeking seems infinite. Later, as they settle into their relationship, their concerns turn to more stereotypical adult fears; traffic or transit accidents, sever illnesses, etc.

46. Who initiates kisses?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

47. Who says I love you first? How did it happen?

Nico, by accident, as depicted in Spoken.

48. Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

Technically Maki in both cases, though with their friends, Nico was active in the chatroom, and with their mothers, Maki only beat Nico by maybe half an hour or so. These instances are depicted in Reconstructed Reunion and Telling Mama.

49. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Both have busy schedules, even as early as the years immediately following high school, so spending time away from each other is quite commonplace. This still did not stop Maki from going through a bout of depression during Nico’s first tour as a professional idol, as depicted in Homesick and Homecoming. From then on, Maki starts a tradition of visiting Nico during longer tours so as to break up their time away a bit.

50. Who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Nico, as the more romantic of the two. This isn’t to say Maki doesn’t value sentiment, she just has other ways of expressing it than being overwhelmed.

[quintessenceofdust73]

Julance 2021 Prompt: Post-S8

She checked her watch again. It was nearly seven. She looked up at the glowing sign above the famous club’s entryway, squared her shoulders, and walked towards the front door, then abruptly stopped short before entering the nightclub. There was a sign on the door in front of her that read

ONCE YOU CROSS THE EVENT HORIZON, THERE’S NO TURNING BACK.

Pidge read it, and then swallowed. She reminded herself that she was doing this for Lance because she wanted him to be happy, even if that meant he was going to find happiness with someone that wasn’t her. Her vision blurred, and she wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingers, hoping her eye makeup didn’t smear. She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

A young Galran woman greeted her in the front lobby. “How many are in your party?”

“Oh, uh, I’m looking for a friend. He might have arrived before me,” Pidge replied.

“You are welcome to look for him, miss. Let me know if you require a table.”

“Thanks,” Pidge responded, and she headed towards the bar just beyond a large sign that read “The Singularity.” She assumed that with a name like that it must be the singles bar. There were several sorry-looking males and only a few overly made-up females of a variety of species at the bar. All of them seemed either depressed, intoxicated, or both. She sat as far away from all of them as possible. If Lance was going to meet the woman of his dreams tonight, surely it wouldn’t be any of these pathetic creatures. What was Hunk thinking? The Polluxian bartender asked what she wanted to drink, and Pidge responded that she was waiting for a friend. She cringed inwardly as a gap-toothed Unilu male sauntered her way and sat on the barstool next to her. “Buy you a drink, sweetheart?” His breath reeked of intoxicants.

“No, thank you.” She moved away from him. He leaned closer, eyeing her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Pidge’s mind raced. She needed an escape. “I’m meeting a friend here tonight.” She looked toward the club’s main entrance, and saw her opportunity. “Sorry.” She got up. Lance had just arrived, and she couldn’t repress her grin at the sight of him. She darted towards the front lobby, passing in front of the huge darkened room called The Black Hole, which was, by the sound of the loud music, a dance floor of some kind.

Pidge thought Lance looked quite dashing in the tailored blue suit he was wearing, but she soon realized that his expression was surlier than usual, as if he didn’t want to be there at all. Her smile melted away.

Lance didn’t see her approach. He had turned toward the young Galran hostess. “Table for two, please. I don’t know if she’s here yet though.” His stance was alert, with his fists curled at his sides. He looked as if he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“There was a pretty young woman of your species who arrived just before you did. She said she was looking for someone,” said the hostess. She saw Pidge standing a few feet behind Lance. “Here she is, sir.”

Lance took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something very unpleasant. He slowly turned around, and Pidge watched as Lance’s expression went from a look of anxiety to one of elation. “Pidge?! What are you doing here?” He looked happier than he had been in weeks. “You look great in that dress, by the way.” His eyes lingered on the golden heart-shaped necklace at her throat, and his grin broadened even more.

“Hunk told me I had to be here, and I don’t understand what’s—”

“Hunk really is the best friend a guy could ever have, isn’t he? I owe him big time for this.”

Pidge didn’t understand what Lance was talking about. “I—“

The hostess interrupted. “Your table is ready, sir. Right this way.”

Before Pidge could even ask what was going on, Lance grabbed her by the hand and followed the hostess into a brightly lit dining room, past the larger tables for boisterous gatherings, and onward to a quieter, more dimly lit area where couples would normally sit at smaller, more intimate, candlelit tables. The room was empty for the moment. Soft, beautiful music was playing in the background. Pidge was both overwhelmed and confused. She felt a momentary pang of regret as Lance let go of her hand, but she soon realized that he did this in order to pull out a chair for her. “Oh! Thank you.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. What was happening? She smoothed her skirt as she sat down. They should be at the singles bar. How was she supposed to help Lance get a date if...

“Hunk really had me fooled,” Lance said with a chuckle. His blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

“What exactly did he tell you?” she asked, trying to calm her nerves. She had her hands hidden in her lap, hoping Lance wouldn’t notice that they were shaking.

Read the entire story here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255404

[mirageofthecrystal]

16. Do you prefer long or short replies and why?

19. Who is an author that inspires you?

20. Do you need music/noise to write or do you prefer silence?

16. Honestly, it’s not the most important factor, especially when only a sentence or two will do. However, I grew up on long replies. I consider myself one of those RPers that is capabale of multiple paragraphs if I have a partner who also does the same. But I try not to keep it as a standard, lest I scare away great partners who just aren’t as overly verbose as I can be.

19. Time to mine the recesses of my brain for this answer. I used to read so much more, and it’s fallen somewhat by the wayside.

J.R.R. Tolkien -I’ve been reading Tolkien’s work since I was a kid, which obviously means The Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion. The way he crafted such worlds, realized beyond my faintest imaginings, had colored what I hope to achieve at least in some small measure when writing. I will never write like Tolkien, but I still use his star as a guiding light.

Andrzej Sapkowski - I started my Witcher experience with the game series, and eventually moved on to the book series. I expected somewhat fleshed out fantasy written by some old white man that stuck to a lot of tropes in a meh way that were just well realized in-game. What I got was a deep, dark, realized realm with complex characters and moral framework. There is such an allure and maturity to Sapkowski’s work that while I think has some emblematic issues, they’re baked into the story in a meaningful way that grounds them in the world.

Lev Grossman - When I first began reading The Magicians trilogy, I thought I was going to get what was essentially Harry Potter for adults. Older kids going to a magic school and having whatever adventures, maybe with a dash of Narnia. What I found was an experience that was incredibly formative and freeing. The characters, especially the protagonist Quentin, are not likeable. They’re not always happy-go-lucky or secure in their destiny. The cast of The Magicians are what most people are: lost, damaged, emotional, seeking purpose. They grow on you because they grow as people. They suffer loss in a way that makes it feel real. The arrive at the end of their story arcs through trial and tribulation, and discomfort. There are some topics that the book approaches extremely well (trauma, rape, depression, etc.) in a way that I haven't experienced. And the female characters are written the exact way I like them to be: as just CHARACTERS. Like, when I write female characters, I don't often associate their attitude or mannerisms with their gender. I literally just write the character as an actual person and go from there, and my experience with Lev's writing influenced that. Also, the TV show adaptation is phenomenal, though it stumbles in the first season and warms up a bit in the second before getting really good.

20. Music inspires a lot of my ideas, and sometimes when I'm writing a certain song will come on and that'll influence my writing greatly. I prefer to have music on when writing, but sometimes it can also be incredibly distracting with my ADHD brain, so it really depends.

Thank you for the asks, @rokachan!

[zombiekillerky]

{ROTTMNT Fanfic} - Burden

( WARNING : This is not Turtle x Turtle related at all, this is purely just some family scenarios with no relationships at all what’s so ever. Just regular day in the life turtle stuff)

[Also before you read this, I’m not very knowledgeable with ROTTMNT just yet. I just started binge watching the episodes recently so if I get any information wrong about the series I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this though.]

It was around an hour before when he left the lair down below the surface. Not even bothering to tell his brother’s where he went off to before he had left. He was to much of a burden to them any way so why would they want to know where he went off to. It seemed like they were just all around annoyed with him to be fair. More then the usual annoyance of his sick puns he made through out the day to lighten the mood with his humor. Almost like he had done something wrong and didn’t even know about it. The blue masked turtle let out a sigh as he sat on top of on of the roof tops. Staring down at the light the shined in the city around him. His chin rested in the palms of his hands as he sat there in silence. Debating on what to do next in his little solo adventure by himself. The loneliness was hitting him hard, unlike Raph he could be alone for periods of time easy. But it was the fact that his brother’s didn’t want him around them, that made the feeling worse in the pit of his stomach. He just didn’t understand why, and that was his worst fear. That they didn’t want him around any more and that’s what it felt like at the moment.

-------------------------------------- 

“Hey......hey Donnie watcha doing!” Leo asked as he spun in the spare chair his brother had by his computer desk. The purple banded turtle seemed busy enough, coming up with new ideas and advancements with his past inventions. His brother groaned in annoyance as he hunched over his table yet again, ignoring his brother behind him. Continuing tinkering with his bow staff in his hand to fix the little problems he had using it last time. Leo’s brow raised as he pushed himself over using the end of the table against the wall. Pushing past his brother swiftly and glanced over his shoulder to see what he was working on at the moment.Curiosity was all he had at the moment and the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. He knew Donnie would get easily distracted by him moving so he tried to stop himself from moving any more. His plan was to get a good spot to look at his project behind him. Failing miserably as he fell back with a loud smack of the back of his shell hitting the floor along with the chair. 

“Leo could you leave, you’re distracting me from my work to much. I can’t even think with you around causing all of this noise! Can’t you just go and bother someone else!” Donnie exclaimed as Leo laid there on the floor in pain as he looked at his brother looking down upon him. The small sound of a pop in his ribs filled the room as he sat up from the floor quickly. Donnie soon turned back to his bow staff as he sat there on the floor. The blue masked turtle sighed as he stood up from the ground quite quickly. Running his brother’s words through his head that pierced his heart somewhat. Leo sighed, his posture hunched over somewhat, his ego bruised by his brother’s words. the comedic turtle walked in to the front room. His head lifted up and found Mikey in the kitchen, humming a tune softly to himself as he stared at the cook book on the table. Leo smiled widely as he raced over and ducked in tot he kitchen, his younger brother seemed to be cooking a desert dish. One of the many things he liked to cook and practice in the kitchen on his days off. Leo glanced around the island in the kitchen and stood up fast. 

“Hey Mikey, watcha cookin?” Leo asked as he stood up, frightening his brother somewhat as he stood there concentrating. Mikey screamed, dropping a little more then enough flour in to the mix. His brow knitted together as he glared at Leo standing there on the opposite side of him. Mikey was never one to be overly angry, but his face at the moment showed all.

“Leo could you NOT scare my in the kitchen like that bro, you made me pour a lot more flour then what I needed.....I have no clue what I’m gonna do now!” Mikey exclaimed as he glanced down in to his bowl he was using at the moment.

“I-I’m sorry Mikey.....I didn’t mean to scare you.....I’ll just go” Leo replied, his head hanging even lower then before. Now two of his brother’s hate him at the moment instead of one. What was up with him today? Why were they so easily annoyed and aggravated with him....He was getting in to his own head again like he always does. No reassurance to get him through this bad time. The turtle in blue just wanted to cry, he wanted to go to his brothers and just ask them why he was annoying them. Leo ran his hand down the back of his head and neck as he walked in to his room. Grabbing his sword placed on nails on his wall up above his bed. The comedic turtle carefully walked out of his room, his eyes darted toward the living room where his father sat. A small smile formed on his face as he walked closer. Noticing he was falling asleep in the chair in front of the TV. Leo bit his bottom lip slightly, not knowing if he should wake him up or not. The look on his father’s face meant he was falling asleep, but he wanted to tell him where he was going before heading out in to the world alone.

“dad......dad I-I’m-”

“Blue! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch my shows! Goodness you know it is on a marathon tonight. I have no time for your silly games, go bother your brothers right now.” Splinter somewhat yelled in an annoyed tone of voice as he fixed his sitting position on his chair. Having the cousins squeak loudly from the shift of weight. Leo glanced away from him, not even remembering that it was the marathon of his favorite show this afternoon. To be honest he didn’t really pay attention to him saying that earlier because of his selective hearing he had.

“Sorry dad......I’m just gonna head out” Leo replied as he walked away from him, even more depressed then ever. His whole family hated him, he didn’t even want to try with Raphael at this point. He scared him the most when he was angry because he normally isn’t at all. The blue masked turtle’s head hung low as he made his way over to the entrance of the lair. Glancing back in to it like he was waiting for one of his brothers to come and tell him not to leave. What was he thinking, they didn’t want him around at the moment anyway. Why would they stop him now?

--------------------------------   

The blue masked turtle rubbed his eyes slightly, forgetting to blink as he stared off in to space while he sat there in silence. He lifted his legs up from the side of the building. Dusting his back of dust as he stood up from the roof. His mind was wondering in many places, the bad overruling the good at the moment more then anything. He hasn’t even gotten a call from his brother’s back at home to ask where he was. His eyes looked down in sadness at the cars slowly driving by. 

“Well what do we have here, the turtle in blue all by himself up on the roof top....what A pleasant surprise” Leo turned around quickly and found the two villains with the foot like symbol on theirs heads. Standing there behind him with what seemed to be a brief case in the taller ones hands. Leo smirked, hiding away his emotions as he grabbed his sword with a snarky grin.

“Well well well looks like we meet again then you crooks, what have you stolen now.....let me guess some fancy colored paper for your minions that we fought and beat easily might I add not just because of my ego?” 

“No! Why would we.....oh your the sarcastic one aren’t you....gotta be honest all I remember about you is that and your portals you create....other then that not really anything”

“Oh I can so promise you there is a lot more to me then you know about besides my dashing good looks and my charm”

“Come on we don’t have time for this, we need to get going”

“What you don’t have time for little old me? What’s wrong you afraid of Leon?” Leo asked with a sly smirk as he gazed at them standing there. The villains glanced over at each other, smiling devilishly as the smaller one brought out. Several pieces of paper. Making more minions as their escape route, they seemed to be bigger then before. Some had better weapons then others. Leo gazed over all of them, making it seem like he was confident in himself to take them all on but truth be told he wasn’t. Leonardo got his stance ready and launched himself forward. Cutting two of the closest ones in half with some ease as he tried to follow the two villains from earlier. They were quick as they ran on top of the roof tops together. One carried their stolen item the other created more minions for Leo to defeat on the way. 

“You guys are really slacking, I just cut through like 6 of hem with ease. Come on, you would think fancy colored paper would do the trick this time” Leo called out to them as they ran, realizing that they were only ignoring him as he talked. The blue masked turtle sliced his way through the crowd, it seemed as he got closer the villains made even better minions as they traveled. Leonardo hated to admit it but he was getting really tired at this point. He tried his best to follow behind them but his stamina was running low.

“I guess you could say I’m giving them a paper cut huh? Come on and fight me already instead of putting your minions in the way. What ever you got in the brief case shouldn’t be that important. It’s just me, shouldn’t this be a treat to you guys?” Leo asked as he dodged another hit coming at his head swiftly. The comedic turtle formed a portal quickly and on to another building across the street where he saw them go. As he turned the next corner his body was slammed against a big hammer one of the minions was wielding. His body smacked against the closest wall with a loud thud. The air being knocked out out his lungs tremendously as he struggled to breath while laying there. Leo clutched his shell in pain as he sat up from the ground. He reached out and grabbed his sword from the ground next to him. Getting hit once more by another minion to his side, he didn’t know what to do. His mind was racing yet there was no plan of escape. He needed to act fast now, with the villains gone out of his sight and range. He needed to find a way to either defeat all of the minions and get back to them or portal himself out of there and fast. He just wasn’t sure what to do and that was the main problem. 

-----------------------------

“Are you sure he didn’t tell you where he was going Donnie?”

“No he didn’t, I made him leave the lab because he was distracting me with my work” Donnie replied as he flipped his googles down to see if he could trace the energy of his brother’s sword. Raph sighed as he glanced over to Mikey, he seemed tense as he stood there. Almost like he was hiding something as he stood. Raph’s brow knitted together as he took a few steps closer to Mikey as he stood by the edge of the building. Getting his brother’s attention almost immediately.

“Mikey......did Leo tell you where he went?”

“N-no-”

“Mikey?”

“I yelled at him too okay, he scared me and I didn’t mean to....he left looking really sad and then I heard dad yell at him before he left in the other room....I really didn’t mean to yell at him he just scared him a lot and that was my reaction!” Mikey replied, letting everything out as he stood there with and upset look on his face. They all knew Leo’s issue with negative and overthinking, he never told anyone about it but they all knew he had that problem.He felt as though he could be annoying and a burden to them. Like he was useless and that his family hated him for some of the things he has done. Even through they reassurance he still has trouble coming to realize that they could never hate them. Donnie looked back at them in realization, knowing why he had left with out telling any of them now. Guilt was setting in on all of them now as they thought about their brother’s emotions and what would go through his mind at the moment. Raph stepped forward and hugged Mikey tightly. His eyes wondered around for any signs his brother could have left. He knew they didn’t mean to yell at him, but how was he gong to convince him about it when they see him next.

“Have you tried calling April, maybe she has seen him lately?” Raph suggested, watching his smarter brother nod his head as he grabbed his phone. Her number was soon dialed but no one answered after the rings had stopped and the voice said to leave a message. Making them all panic since April always answered her phone no matter what. Donnie soon tried again, his face of confusion said it all as he clicked her contact once more. Getting the same result soon afterward.

“We’re heading over to April’s then, it’s settled right now she never does this” Donnie replied as he stood up from his crouching position and jumped to the next roof top. Having his brother’s follow quickly behind. Their anxiety was through the roof as they traveled closely together. First their brother wasn’t answering and now their best friend wasn’t either. What was going on with the two of them, more importantly was something very wrong. They needed to think positively about this, maybe she just couldn’t reach the phone at the moment and they could try again soon enough.The trio of turtles traveled quickly through the night, coming closer and closer to April’s apartment building across the street. Mikey went first and landed on the ladder outside, hearing voices coming from inside. He waved his brothers over, having them be quiet as he slowly opened the window so they could hear better. As the sat they finally found April coming in to frame and their brother slowly limped behind her to the kitchen chair pulled out. He seemed bruised and cut but alright for now.

“Leo how did you even manage this and what’s inside the briefcase?” April asked as she brought out cleaning supplies and started to clean the cuts along his legs and arms. Hearing him wince as the alcohol touched with open cuts.

“Well.....I ran in to those guys with the *wince* foot symbols again and they carried this along with them.....I followed them and got beat up by their minions. But they weren’t the normal ones, they were like upgraded versions. So naturally I *wince* fought back against them. Just as I thought I wasn’t going to make it and stop them. I managed to- Ow hey be careful”

“Sorry Leo, you know I’m not good with this kind of thing”

“It’s fine....anyway where was I- Oh yeah....I managed to portal away just in time and actually portaled right where they ended up. I took the brief case and portaled my way out of there before they could do anything about it as easy as that.” Leo replied with a large grin on his face as April wrapped his arm slowly so she wouldn’t hurt him any more. April smiled back at him as she watched him fiddle with the case. Soon stopping as his expression faded and went blank. He slowly sat it on to the ground beside them both and glanced back at her cleaning the gash on his leg.

“You mind telling me why your brother’s weren’t with you fighting?” April asked as she looked up at him. Placing a butterfly bandage on his temple where a small cut lied. His gaze fell in to a quite depressed looking one, telling April all she needed to know. She knew about his anxiety and constant over thinking. He covered it up well she had to give him that, but nothing could get past her when it came to her best friends. Already getting an idea in to her head of what had happened.

“I left....I could tell I was being a burden so I figured I would just leave before I made things worse....I didn’t look for a fight the trouble just found me up here.....I came to you because you were the closest when it came to help and well I didn’t want to bother my brother’s and their work....but I’m okay, at least it wasn’t that bad injuries to be fair.” Leo replied with a small sad smile on his face to try and cover his real emotions. April leaned forward and hugged him tightly, trying not to hurt him even more since she noticed the bruising near his shell and the small crack on the right side of his plastron. Leo was in shock for a second, but he soon wrapped his arms as best he could around her with a small chuckle.

“I told you I’m fine-”

“Leo! I’m so sorry....I’m so sorry for yelling at you honest” Mikey broke the silence as he entered the apartment. Joining in on the hug they were having. Leo stared at him in confusion and found his brothers coming in as well from the same window. he laughed softly as April let go and had Mikey hug him tighter. He let out a groan of pain, signaling for Mikey to get off of him. his hand quickly went to the small crack in his shell. Shrugging slightly as he glanced down at it.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We were searching for you.....when April wasn’t answering we figured something had happened to the both of you and came here to check out the place.....Are you okay Leo, where did you get hurt?” Raph asked, being over protective and caring as always. But as he was about ready to help Leo up his brother stood up himself with a small bit of pain in his eyes.

“I’m fine, April patched me up pretty good.....just gonna have bruising the next few days” Leo replied as he picked up the brief case and limped over to his brother standing there silently. The guilt in his eyes never faded as he glanced away to try and hide his fear. Leo smiled softly as he placed his bandages hand on his brother’s shoulder. Grabbing his attention and handed him the brief case he had took from the bad guys.

“Well since you guys were eavesdropping and doing it really badly might I add. Have a look at what those guys were stealing will ya....and probably away from April’s place just in case it’s something really bad in it like a bomb” Leo replied as he started to make his way to the window. He turned his head back as he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. As he looked back he was brought in to another hug. This one was less tight then Mikey’s but Leo could tell how worried Raph was and how much he cared for him at the moment. Leo smiled as he wrapped his arms around his brother, resting his head up against his chest. He felt his other brother’s arms wrap around him soon after like he had done before. Leo’s eyes darted over to Donnie, standing there like he wasn’t aloud to hug him at the moment. But as soon as he seen Leo’s smile he had he knew he was always welcomed. Wrapping his arms around him as well as tight as he could almost.

“Sorry I left guys....I didn’t know I would worry you this much jeez”

“No don’t be sorry....I shouldn’t have yelled at you for scaring be on accident”

“I shouldn’t have been so stern with you when I told you to leave......I-I’m s-so-” 

“Save it Donnie.....I forgive you guys” Leo replied as they stayed in the group hug for another minute or so.

“But from now on at least leave a note before taking off like that okay, you scared the ever loving crap out of me!” Raph said as he picked his brother up with ease. Making him chuckle as he held him like a rag doll up in the air.

“I won’t I won’t okay scout’s honor, you want a pinky promise I’ll give you a pinky promise Raph”

“Yes I would like a pinky promise thank you very much”

“Fine pinky promise.....now could we head home....I’m kinda hungry after running around all night after those goons”

“Yes of course, I’ll make dinner as soon as we get back I promise”

“Sounds like a plan bro’s”

[biscuitfam]

Bittersweet Love

Request:  hi hiii it's Athena!! (Lupinfiction) may i request an eleventh doctor x fem!reader where they're dating and his affections are usually really rough/playful (like kissing n hugging n stuff are rough) but the reader wants more slow and gentle love and then she has a bad day and the doctor is super careful and soft with her for the first time??? Sorry if that makes so sense😅 tysm!!! ❤️

Summary: Everyone becomes unaware to certain situations in their lives, even the Doctor. However, it took you crying before him to notice he needed to change the way he handles you.

WC: 1008+

Pairing: 11th doctor x reader

Warnings/Tags: So much fluff my bisexual heart can’t take it

A/N:  Covid is hitting me hard with bad internet and depression. I’ve been trying so hard to keep myself motivated to write. Send in some requests! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Some say that the man acted like a giraffe, all failing and confused with his overly long limbs and lanky body stumbling over his own two feet. They may have been also the people who said he acted like a child with his over hyperactivity and bouncy persona.

To both, you would typically agree. Maybe more so leading on to question if Timelords could experience ADHD in a reincarnation. Nevertheless, the people who said these things about the man never noticed how he handled women. To the outside eye, he was nervous and inattentive to love. However, the Doctor had never been so far in love with a person like he had with you. The toughness of the touches, however, was starting to become a problem.

He would grip your wrist while on the run in such a tight locking hold that would cause friction to your soft skin when attempting to wriggle free. In times alone the stolen kisses were rough and needy and lacked soft intimacy and left raw need instead. The Doctor, however, never was mean. He never could intentionally hurt you. He couldn’t hurt a fly most days. There had been little times you had seen his true nature and frankly, you were quite alright with the bruising touches of passion until now.Something within you just snapped when you stepped back on board with the man after dropping the Ponds back at home for a weekend away. In front of your shared friends, his touches were hard and lacked the soft passion that they held together. Jealousy burned red through your veins and tinted your cheeks as you stood with your back to him. The familiar burn has begun to rise the back of your throat and pinch at your eyes. Was the room getting smaller?

“ Right! So, where are we off to? Your choice! Anywhere?” The man piped up and slipped past you unnoticed to the demeanor of his girlfriend as they yearn for travel grew. A small smile quivered on your lips at the quirkiness of him. He’s always in such a..hurry. The smile had quickly faded as you glanced upwards to meet his eyes at the point he too lost his smile.

“ Y/N, what’s wrong?” He said softly and turned to face you with a raised brow and an arm rested against the console dash. The concern melted your heart, but also caused it to ache. How would you be able to say this to him? To tell him to stop being so rough and in need of more even when he already gave you the stars quite literally?

You stood and plastered a fake, yet convincing smile to your face and joined him at the console. “ It’s nothing. Right, you asked where? Maybe the future?”

The Doctor shook his head backed up some with arms tightly crossed against his chest, “ Not until you tell me the truth, Y/N. I know you’re lying, it’s quite clear. Your secret is safe with me..cross my hearts.” The alien has a soft chuckle and ghosted long fingers in x marks against his chest.

The room became claustrophobic with the rising tension and the burn that slid up your throat and stung at your eyes and cheeks. You turned quickly from him which caused him to grip your wrist — again, tightly and roughly.

“ It’s that.”

“ What?”

“ It’s that, Doctor. You handle me like I’m a toy. Roughly and bittersweet. Don’t get me wrong — I do love you, I just need something more. I need romance. Soft touches...I need to take things slow instead of so steadfast.” You whimpered softly and wriggled free from the grip of the Doctor.

Your voice was taught and firm trying to refrain from crying even though you wanted to so badly. The man looked horrible. A disturbed looked had accompanied his face. The usual one when he felt so much regret and shame for mistakes he’s made. However, this looked held a much deeper feeling. He had hurt you unintentionally, his lover and best friend.

“ I’m so so sorry,” He begun and lifted his hands to cup your cheeks softly and slid his thumbs across the apples of your tinted cheeks. “ I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I had known — I can try better — I don’t know what has gotten into me, honestly I..”

“ Doctor, you’re rambling, you know.” A soft laugh slipped your lips as you nuzzled your hand into his palm. He then pulled away and reworked the controls causing the TARDIS to halt and lazily huddle in the midst of space. The man dipped his head with a sigh before he glanced up again and held out a long-fingered hand.

“ Come with me.”

—

That’s how this situation had started with your head on his chest and his fingers tangled within your soft locks of hair. The man of adventure and traveler of stars laying in bed for a simple cuddle. He Esther insisted on it, however, despite you knowing all he wanted as to embark on the next adventure.

His hands slowly crawled down from your scalp to circle soft unknown letters and symbols across your back leaving you clues to the meanings in your tired state. That could wait until another day — bugging him to teach you some of his native tongue. The soft touches and occasional kisses to the top of your head had been everything you previously wanted. The softness, the tender touches. Sweet caresses from the typically blind doctor when it came to how to be “gentle with the s/o”. Part of you rooted for asking more soft cuddles and touches out of him

Cuddles with the Doctor would always be your favorite. They’re like a hot cup of cocoa on a snowy day in. Or a nice book while listening to rain patter on the roof. He’s the simplicity among the storm of emotions that confused you in a life like this and bloody hell it was brilliant.