#I am so tempted to leave if I were to make a choice today because I'm just feeling so defeated

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

nobody owes you reblogs just because you're a smaller creator. who cares. quit crying about it and grow tf up

I'm guessing you sent me this because I reblogged something by @/anxiouspineapple99 a bit ago with the tag "#doubly so for small creators" (followed by #please) when she reminded people of the importance of reblogging things from people.

Here's the answer to the "who cares." question, anon.

I understand *very* clearly that I am not "owed" reblogs: but the reason I care that I'm not getting them is I'm a small creator with less than 90 followers and get a handful of interactions on more recent (non-OC) fandom posts; mostly in the form of likes, which do not get my works in front of other people's eyes to expand my "reach" and (potentially) grow.

So no, I will not just "quit crying" about it: I think I'm allowed to be a little upset.

With the exception of a select few lovely, lovely people, my work does not get commented on a lot with any semblance of regularity. My work does not get reblogged and circulated the same way I see many other fanfic authors get within the area I write for. I've tried a number of things to grow or be noticed by using big, popular fandom tags and the like, and very few people reblog, but many will like and that's the end of it. Likes are nice engagement, but they don't circulate my work the way a reblog does.

You don't get to ask "Who cares?" when frankly there are a lot of creators who I've noticed are sticking to and promoting the same circle of people over, and over, and over whenever there are people asking who's out there to read. It looks like a clique if I'm honest.

How are little creators supposed to feel like they belong to a community that part of it looks and acts like it has a clique or a club?

How are little creators supposed to grow when their work does not get shared and gets overlooked time and time again in favor of the same few people who are constantly reblogged from (or promoted) all the time?

How will little creators decide to stay when there's hardly the same amount of interaction that encourages them to continue engaging?

You don't get to act surprised when little creators feel like leaving when something they create as a fan, for other fans to hopefully enjoy, is not shared or recommended to other people.

You don't get to act surprised when little creators want to give up or get upset from time to time because trying to self-promote has stimulated little growth, or they are ignored in favor of their "cliques" and their other, bigger, creator friends.

Fandoms can't do this kind of stuff and then get surprised that one by one there are fewer people who want to write and create and the like when they do not feel as valued, loved, or welcomed.

Little creators notice the favoritism, anon! And it becomes discouraging to little creators to even try and participate when we have imposter syndrome telling us "We're not like ABC-BLOG. People think they're so much better than us and/or are "the" CharacterXYZ creator..." based on how other people react to their work compared to our own.

I don't even feel like sharing the next piece of Star Wars fanart I'm in the middle of anymore if I'm honest.

(And I was really excited about it.)

Right now I don't feel like sharing almost anything I write when very few people engage with it, because I don't feel like there's a point and that I won't be seen; because people don't reblog stuff from the little creators quite like they do for their favorite authors.

Reblogs matter to all creators on Tumblr, anon. And I'm going to say it's doubly so for the little ones because it's the bitter truth; I find it sad you think I need to "grow tf up" for saying that. I'm allowed to be upset about how I'm "valued" or treated as a smaller creator, anon.

I wouldn't cry about it if I didn't care and could stop comparing myself to how others get treated when I myself am a little creator and interaction is what motivates me to tough it out a "little longer" and not leave.

[haikyu-mp4]

Hello! I wanted to request for the 300 followers event, congrats!!! Applying with Tendo, I am organised and a problem solver (sorry, it's the same as the example, but the idea was tempting 😅).

thank you!!! it's in the example for a reason, what a great choice! you are very much hired<3

Time to spare

Tendo is a regular and finally asks you out, for the now hiring! event

word count; 792 – f!reader

You always noticed the tall man with red hair who seemed to never have time to spare but still took the time to thank you for your amazing coffee before rushing off.

Tendo came in a couple of times a week, always during rush hour, and you assumed he was on his way to work. Unfortunately, rush hours in the café were rough, so you never had the time to ask him about his job, or anything else for that matter, without it seeming weird. He was probably just a kind man who wanted coffee. But still, your eyes would scan the crowd curiously at the same time every day, wondering if you would get to see him.

One day he was determined to spend time getting to know you because it was finally a bank holiday in France and the old ladies he charmed into buying double rounds of chocolate a week ago said he deserved a day off. He took their advice, leaving the sign on closed as he exited in his nicest shirt. Ushijima said he looked sumptuous, which he’s not quite sure what means, but it sounded really good and came along with a thumbs-up emoji.

Should I get her flowers? No, that’s too much… but if she agrees on a date, I will definitely get her flowers.

There was a certain spring in his step as he made his way to the café. Tendo couldn’t wait to finally have the time to talk to you, and he wasn’t even looking inside as his eyes zeroed in on the door handle and he grabbed it, pulling…

It’s a bank holiday… so the café was closed too.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face when he noticed the café was completely dark, which he should have noticed much earlier. He already started considering what other day he could take off when he had so many orders, but then there was a sound of footsteps behind him that made him turn around.

“Hi,” you said, a bit awkward as Tendo was currently just blinking at you in surprise. There was a set of keys in your hand, clinking as you put your arm down after a small wave.

“It’s not closed?” he asked, pointing at the closed door that he was still blocking without thinking about it.

He had a box of six delicious chocolates in his hand, pointer finger nervously rubbing the edge which made the glue loosen slightly just on the corner. Inspired by some Valentine’s Day traditions where he came from, he thought it might be a way to impress, even though that date was far away.

“We open a bit later because of the bank holiday,” you explained sweetly, stepping closer and hoping he might move away from the door. “If you have time to wait, I can still make you your usual.”

“I have all the time in the world today,” he said, so happy to see a warm blush beside your eyes that were crinkled from your smile.

“Great! A Vienna Coffee, right?”

And as Tendo followed you inside, he glanced down at the box in his hands but decided he shouldn’t ask before getting his coffee, so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable if you rejected him. So he stuck around and tried not to be in the way as you readied the café for opening, chatting away about things like his unusual coffee order that you had to look up the first time to make sure you did it properly.

You finally put his coffee down on the counter with his name on it followed by two small hearts. After talking to you, Tendo felt no less sure about wanting to ask you out, so he held out the box in exchange for grabbing the coffee.

“I made them, wondered if you might join me on a date sometime?” he asked, straight forward as ever. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, taking in your reaction and somewhat preparing himself for the possibility that you would say no.

“You made them?!” you squealed, covering your mouth to not alert your coworker who had come in and handled another order while you talked to Tendo. You opened the box, gasping again at how good they looked. “I can’t eat at work so I’ll save them, but that’s so sweet of you,” you cooed, looking up at him with a pout. He smiled that cute smile of his, leaning forward with his hands on his hips.

“So what do you say?” he asked, wondering if you were avoiding the dating part.

“About a date? Definitely yes. Could you show me how to make chocolates like this?”

“That would be my pleasure.”

masterlist

[thegaybluejay]

Okay hi I’m back with another ramble-y ATLA character analysis since this is low key my brand on here lmao-

Today I want to talk about Zuko from the lens of someone who also had to deconstruct. This will be long, but please bear with me!

I was raised in a very white conservative evangelical Christian bubble where literally EVERYONE I knew for the majority of my childhood and teenage years thought mostly the same way. There was a lot of othering and shaming of anyone who thought too differently. Even if it was sometimes said more passively than cruelly, there was always that underlying tone. “The others/the people outside of our group/the worldly ones are lost and need our help because we’re better than them!”

While I strived to not be cruel, my beliefs were still harmful. I lost a few friends when I got to my mid-late teenage years because I didn’t yet know how to challenge what I’d been taught.

I see so much of myself in Zuko.

Zuko was surrounded by propaganda his entire life. He was steeped in it - steeped in the blood of those that the system he supported/represented had hurt and killed.

Anger is a huge part of all of this. While my anger was never quite as outward as Zuko’s (I hid it fairly well and was always known as the “pretty good kid”), I can still so heavily relate to his anger. His anger at always falling just short of being good enough or perfect enough. His later anger at himself for not understanding how fucked up the system was sooner. His anger at the people that failed and hurt him. His anger at realizing how he failed and hurt other people. All of it.

I also understand his backslides in Book 2 and early Book 3. When you begin tackling the first layers of harmful shit you’ve been taught, it can quickly become so tempting to just call it quits and go back. You almost start to romanticize the simplicity of life before you began this journey. The rules and goals were so straightforward back then, and deconstructing is messy as hell. Even if you were deeply hurting in your old life, at least you weren’t so damn confused. You used to know your next steps, but now everything is in disarray and you don’t have a direction to rebuild in yet. Going back almost feels like it would be a survival tactic, a way to have a sense of control again. Zuko definitely 100% needed to atone for what he did in Ba Sing Se because it hurt others, and while I’d like to think I would’ve made a different choice in his shoes, I also get it on some level. The confusion stage sucks, and it’s not always linear either.

But then.

One day, something just clicks. You eventually deconstruct enough that you truly come to full terms with how fucked up it all is. And you realize that you don’t belong there anymore, and the version of you that DID belong was just a facade. The blinders fully come off, they’re never going back on, and a spark lights in you that prompts you to make a big change. The deeper you go, the more urgent this deconstruction becomes in your mind because holy fuck I have to do something about this. I want this shit out of my brain for good and I want to help make things better. I want to learn who I am and finally live that out.

THAT is one of the most pivotal points in the journey, and I loved seeing it within Zuko’s arc when he comes to this realization after the war meeting in Book 3 and leaves to join the Gaang. I also loved that they didn’t trust him the first time he came to them - both he as an individual and the system that he had once supported/represented had hurt these people, and it took some real apologies and some time to build up trust. It also wasn’t done with half assed centrism either - it was “I acknowledge that this system is completely broken and wrong and I will do everything in my power to help gut it from the top-down and restore it with love”.

This leads to another pivotal point in the journey - instead of being motivated by fear like you were when you were deep in the indoctrination or by the raw anger you first felt as you initially left, you start to be motivated by love. And it’s the most freeing thing.

It was so cool to see Zuko learn that, while his anger was a helpful tool (ie: the confrontation with his father and his overall anger at the corruption he saw in his nation), he couldn’t be fueled by it any longer. He had to find another motivation to keep going, and he was then taught by the Sun Warriors and the dragons how to be motivated by light and life and love and also how to use those alongside an anger that was finally righteous.

And with this, he was ready to fight. To fight for a cause he knew to be good. To fight arm in arm with his newly acquired family. To fight to fix what his nation had done to the world and to itself. To fight for love and peace instead of division and hate and destruction.

And wow is it a beautiful journey.

TL;DR - Zuko’s story is so powerful to those who are deconstructing and I love him so much! I also just enjoy doing character analysis hehe.

(I really love talking about ATLA, so if y’all want me to analyze other characters or even plotlines through a specific lens, feel free to submit an Ask and I will happily do so!!!)

(Also, quick ending note - this is just my personal experience with deconstruction! Other people’s retelling of their own deconstructions may be different from mine, and that’s totally okay!!)

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 10: To the Place I Belong

Washington, D.C. Scully’s apartment Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 11:05 am

Scully let herself into her apartment and closed the door behind her. With a weary sigh, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes.

The familiar sounds from her empty apartment surrounded her, and she listened for a few moments to the clicking of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the ticking of the old clock in her living room. Her grandmother had gifted it to her when she’d moved into her first apartment, she remembered with a smile. A time when she’d been so full of hope and ambition. She listened to the muffled sound of children laughing and shouting at each other outside on the street until she felt herself calming down. Scully straightened back up, took a deep breath, and bent down to take her shoes off.

First things first, she thought, making her way into the kitchen and filling the kettle with water before setting it on her stove. While she waited for the water to heat, she checked the messages on her answering machine and leafed through the mail she’d left on the table next to the door on Friday. The mundane chores gave her time to settle her emotions and calm her mind.

The kettle started to whistle, and she methodically prepared herself a cup of tea, before carrying it to the living room and taking a careful sip. Her mind drifted back to the last few days.

Mulder’s words in front of her apartment were playing in a loop in her head. ‘Scully, you do make a difference. Every day. Not only at work but most of all in my life.’ She took another sip and put her hands around the cup. The warmth seeped into her palms, and she inhaled the calming peppermint fragrance wafting up.

I do know that, she thought. And I also know he means it. But is that enough? her mind questioned. Enough to always run in circles? To take one step forward and two steps back? To know that we might have to keep searching for the truth on our weekends and evenings while spending our days calling farmers about their fertilizer?

She exhaled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Talking about going in circles. She was nowhere closer to deciding than she had been Friday evening. And time was running out. Hadn’t she joined the FBI six years ago because she had wanted to make a difference? And hadn’t that choice nearly led to losing the respect of her father? She had thought the X-Files were exactly where she could make that difference, and she’d decided to stay, despite it costing her her sister and her health.

And what about her own life? Would she regret staying with Mulder? Her best friend—but still just that? During family visits holding babies, in church, watching people hold hands, and listening to friends plan couple vacations?

The new role would give her more room for things like that, she mused. No assignment could have as crazy hours as their quest for the truth. A smile curled her lips, and she recalled Mulder’s excited face the day before when he’d found the deer droppings in the forest, trying to convince her it was a sign of the existence of their Mothman.

Taking the offer would mean leaving those moments behind, she thought sobering. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine a life without him, and without Mothmen—not to slog through rainy forests on Saturday afternoons and research DNA after working hours, so she wouldn’t be caught by the lab staff, questioning what she was doing.

Life would be dull, she thought, and suddenly it felt like a weight was lifting off of her shoulders. She’d have time to sit at home and read books on Saturday afternoons instead of arguing with Mulder about West Virginian folklore. And with sudden clarity, she knew she’d be bored out of her mind in this normal life. She’d always be wondering what they could’ve uncovered and what truths they might have revealed together. Mulder was right. It just wasn’t the same when they weren’t doing it together.

And even though she’d always stay in his life, and couldn’t imagine ever saying no to joining him for one of his side investigations, it wasn’t the same. She’d have to meet him outside of work or for lunch, and just the thought of not being right by his side—even if it meant accepting that they might always be just friends—made her stomach turn.

Losing him and possibly his trust and friendship and what he had come to mean to her was—unthinkable, she realized with startling clarity.

Suddenly, it all seemed so clear. She put the empty cup down on the side table and walked to the window, opening it wide and taking a deep breath of the fresh November air. A part of her mourned the cost of her decision because deep down she knew that she’d never find anyone she could feel even close to what she felt for Mulder. This decision could mean that she’d spend the rest of her days in the shadows of hidden truths and mysterious secrets. And never in the light of a home she’d share with someone she could come home to, where the darkness would not follow.

With a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed Skinner’s number. He picked up on the second ring, his ’hello’ full of guarded suspense.

“Sir, it’s Agent Scully,” she said into the receiver. Not waiting for a reply, she continued, “I’ve decided on your job proposal. I want to thank you for considering me, and I deeply appreciate that you offered this role to me. However, I have to decline. I feel like my current work is not finished yet.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line, and then she heard Skinner sigh. “I’m not really surprised, Scully,” he said after a while. “I suspected that’s what your decision would be. And I understand. Even if it might not seem like I do.” He paused, waiting for Scully to break in, but she remained silent. “Very well. I’m sure you’ve made your choice considering all the relevant factors, Scully.” He waited once more for her reaction, but when she again stayed silent, he finished the call with a quick goodbye.

Scully heard the click of the line being disconnected and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. It was done. Now she’d only have to let Mulder know. She checked her watch, wondering if Mulder had arrived at the gunmen yet and what he was up to. Probably researching Mothmen droppings, she chuckled. She couldn’t wait for their usual nighttime call to arrive to hear all about it and to let him know what her decision had been.

Her neck cramped, and she stretched it from the left to right, trying to work out a kink from having been up in knots for hours. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes and rubbed her temples. Right now, she needed to relax and ground herself before she had any more emotionally intense conversations, she decided.

With a spring in her steps, feeling almost weightless, she made her way into the bathroom, deciding to take a bath. She’d meant to try out that new bath salt, she’d gotten recently anyway. Scully stepped in front of the mirror, looking herself in the eyes, she smiled. Everything would turn out all right—even if it wasn’t going to be like she had hoped.

[rottingcheng]

ZhanCheng Day 1: Brother's Birthday

Prompt: Sorry to LXC on his birthday BUT JC goes to GSL to pay his respects to birthday boy LXC and LWJ gets unspeakably jealous because HE'S never gotten a political birthday visit with a respectable gift for a fellow sect leader >:( LWJ behaves normally about this, obviously. Suggested by @spriteofmushrooms. ao3 link.

Though the weather had been pleasant today, though the tea this morning had been especially aromatic, and though it was his most beloved brother's auspicious birthday, Lan Wangji could be seen absolutely seething from behind him within the Cloud Recesses' guest hall.

Sect Leader Jiang was standing before them, completely ignoring Lan Wangji, smiling pleasantly at his brother whilst gesturing towards a fine wooden box carved with lotus flowers carried by a Jiang disciple.

"...and this one carries a set of watercolours made from ingredients sourced in Yunmeng by our most talented artisans. I hope it is to Zewu-Jun's liking."

Lan Wangji's nostrils flared, though no one was paying any attention to him, least of all Jiang Cheng.

'I hope it is to Zewu-Jun's liking.' That insufferable man had never called Wangji by his title– or, at least, not in such an emollient manner. Jiang Cheng's 'Hanguang-Jun!' was one oft spoken full of malice, or traced around a wicked snarl; sharp, electrifying, absolutely indelible.

Lan Wangji bristled. How could that man stand here so shamelessly, in Wangji's own home, bearing the image of benevolence and shapeliness in his libertine Yunmeng robes– and blatantly flirt with his brother right in front of him?

"I am more than pleased, Sect Leader Jiang. I will treasure these thoughtful gifts and make careful use of them. Yunmeng's artisanal goods are some of the finest in the jianghu, and GusuLan is most fortunate to be amongst its many trade routes. It is not only Gusu that shares in fortune, however. I myself feel most fortunate to be in the company of such a kind and considerate friend."

The hand behind Wangji’s back clenched. He'd have to speak to his brother after this procession. How could a member of the Lan family call someone so utterly wretched a 'friend'? It was disgraceful, and his brother ought to rectify it immediately by never speaking to the dastardly Sect Leader Jiang again.

"Ah." The dastardly Sect Leader Jiang averted his eyes for a fraction of a moment – but Lan Wangji noticed.

"YunmengJiang is flattered by your generous words. Unfortunately, I must return to my sect duties now. My sect and I wish Zewu-Jun a joyous celebration."

The Sect Leader began to cup his hands, but Wangji's brother stopped him, fingers wrapped around the man's.

“Please," said Lan Xichen. "Though GusuLan does not hold feasts for birthdays, I hope Sect Leader Jiang would stay for some tea. Our cloud tea today is most redolent; it would be a shame not to share it with a treasured guest."

Jiang Cheng straightened, then lowered his hands, briefly averting his eyes again before replying: "Ah…a tempting offer, Zewu-Jun. Unfortunately my missives have stacked up and I–"

"It will only take a shichen, Jiang–"

"Xiongzhang."

All eyes turned to Wangji, whose face, he hoped, remained reticent and unreadable.

"I will...walk our guest to the gate. We may pass some tea leaves to his disciples to bring back to Yunmeng."

His brother paused for a moment, brows lifted, before switching to a pleasant smile.

"Ah...good on you, Wangji...."

⋆°•☁︎

The Yunmeng disciples were sent to the tea room to collect samples. Lan Wangji and Sect Leader Jiang reached the gate on their own despite deliberately walking at a leisurely pace. The walk had been taken in complete silence, which was somewhat refreshing, given how Sect Leader Jiang always seemed to have choice words for Lan Wangji, said in a choice manner with a choice expression and a choice vivacity to his face.

Standing at the entrance to the Cloud Recesses, Jiang Cheng shifted on his feet, brows knitted and eyes avoiding Lan Wangji.

"Thanks..." he said finally, crossing his arms, "for getting me out of there. Your brother is...very friendly."

"Mn," Lan Wangji replied. He stuck out his hand, palm slightly tilted towards the sect leader. He did not elaborate.

The sect leader raised a characteristic thin brow, a pretty snarl already growing on the corner of his lips. "Are you demanding a bribe for helping me escape your handsy brother? I could have gotten out of it myself you know, Hanguang-Jun!"

Lan Wangji shook his head.

"Tch! What then!" Jiang Cheng slapped Wangji's hand away, but Wangji stuck it out again.

"My birthday gift," he explained.

Jiang Cheng looked at him like he'd grown horns. "Isn't your birthday at the beginning of the year?"

Lan Wangji's brows furrowed. "So you know when it is. And did not visit. Or bring a gift."

The other man sputtered. "It's not like you visited me for my birthday or brought a gift either! Plus we're not friends. Nor are you a sect leader I have to keep good relations with."

Wangji stared at the man quizzically. Sect Leader Jiang was attempting to weasel his way out of a rightful gift. Typical behaviour or a villain. The 'not friends' excuse was ineffectual, however. "We speak all the time."

"Yeah, when we cross paths on night hunts and argue!"

There seemed to be a mismatch between their definitions of friendship. Wangji pursed his lips slightly, contemplated for a moment, then reached into his sleeve.

From it, he procured a sword charm he had carved himself last fall, whittling in a fugue state for hours until it was complete. He had not been able to put reason to his compulsion to make it, only felt that it would be important later. Now holding it in his palm, it made sense that the charm would be for Jiang Cheng. In fact, the frog on it directly matched the one of Sandu's hilt.

"Happy birthday," he said, then nothing else.

With a sceptical expression, Jiang Cheng took the charm from Lan Wangji's hand, then examined it, his brow rising higher and higher with every second.

"This is for me?"

"Mn."

"I get to keep it?"

"Mn."

"You're not gonna get mad if I take it home?"

"Mn." Then, to make sure Jiang Cheng knew just how lucky he was: "I carved it."

Another dubious look was thrown his way, but Lan Wangji thought little of it as Jiang Cheng removed the current tassel from his sword and replaced it with Wangji's charm.

"You're acting weird today, Hanguang-Jun."

Wangji held his palm out again. "My gift."

The sect leader's face softened slightly, melting into an awkward smile which lifted Wangji's spirits immediately. It was Jiang Cheng's first non-evil smile towards him. What a sucker. Sect Leader Jiang scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

"I...don't have anything on me right now that could work as a gift. I can send one here after..."

The palm in front of him did not close.

"The robes off your back."

"What? No!"

"Your tassel."

"I can't gift you something that's already been used!"

"Sandu."

"Fuck off!"

"Shoes."

"I need them to walk home!"

"Comb."

"I don't carry one with me!"

"Handkerchief."

"I sneezed in it!"

It appeared the man was utterly hopeless in the realm of gift-giving. Wangji stared at him, eyes solemn. There was simply no other choice. He’d have to help him out. He stepped forward, grabbed the sect leader's stupid pretty face, and kissed him squarely on the lips.

"H-Hanguang-Jun!" The other man's face was so red it was nearly purple. "Hanguang-Jun..."

The first 'Hanguang-Jun' had been the typical kind. The one laced with three poisons. The second, however, was softer, smaller, and impossibly adorable. Something in Hanguang-Jun felt incredibly pleased with itself, as if butterflies were dancing triumphantly in his stomach.

"Mn. Your gift has been received and will be treasured. You must wish me a happy birthday now."

With a hand clasped over his lips, the usually arrogant and abrasive sect leader appeared speechless, eyes watery and brows drawn. In the tiny skirmish, his hair had managed to become mussled, and Wangji found himself endlessly pleased by this without any reason.

"H-happy birthday, Hanguang-Jun..."

The voices of the YunmengJiang disciples became audible from the distance. Sect Leader Jiang straightened, returning to his air of overconfidence, though Lan Wangji saw the difference in it easily.

"My next one is in four months."

When the sect leader lowered his hand, Wangji saw that his lips were pink and glossy wet. Jiang Cheng must have licked his lips, tasting the trace Lan Wangji left upon them.

"M-mine is in one...s-so you'd better watch out for it, Lan Wangji, or your lips are gonna be in big trouble!"

"I am shivering with anticipation."

Jiang Cheng pointed a shaking finger at Wangji's face, lips trembling around a forming sentence.

"I-I'll kiss you big time!"

"No less is expected."

The Jiang disciples reached them, apologising for their delay. Sect Leader Jiang barely waited for them to settle before stomping off through the gate, only turning his head back to yell:

"That sounded bad! I didn't mean it like that! I meant–"

But he had already passed the gate's barrier, and sound no longer travelled through.

Lan Wangji chuckled to himself, a sound known to no one but himself.

"Right in front of my birthday, Wangji."

Wangji nearly jumped, if not for the familiarity of the voice.

"Xiongzhang," he regarded calmly, though a smirk was clear as day on his lips.

"You move quickly," his brother commented. "I had a three year courting strategy mapped."

Stowing his hands in his sleeves, Wangji mused, "The early rabbit catches the...other rabbit."

Lan Xichen sighed melodically. "You have a month to prepare your next gift, Wangji. I've been planning mine for ten."

Lan Wangji considered this, watching the bamboo peeking from Cloud Recesses’ walls sway in the wind. The air was clear today. The sun was teetering above the horizon. Cloud tea was waiting for him back in the sitting room.

"It is on," decided Wangji. He already knew what his next gift for Jiang Cheng was going to be.

⋆°•☁︎

Written for Milk's 30 Days of ZhanCheng! Ao3 Collection.

[nicolesainz]

Fake it, till you make it (CL16)

Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: angst, mostly kissing, enemies to lovers. Everything on this shot is purely fictional. (I mention the break up of Charles, but the reason mentioned here aren’t true)

“Eh come on, you’re not enjoying yourself! I thought this would be fun” Carlos whined as he saw my smile leaving my lips.

“I am having fun. Truly” I wasn’t even looking at Carlos. With the corner of my eye I had noticed Charles sitting in the middle of the bar with a few empty glasses surrounding him.

“I know that Charles bothers you but tonight he won’t. He’s not in the mood to tease you”

“How do you know that? Maybe he’s faking it”

“Charlotte broke up with him”

My body froze for a moment. Charlotte had been with Charles for a handful amount of time. Followed him at almost every race and even when not attending, posting about it on her insta. She was very supportive of his career. This was unexpected.

“What? When? Why? How?”

“Slow down there! Well, they broke up a few days ago and the why, is kinda complicated”

“What do you mean complicated?”

“With the pressure of wanting to win the championship and constantly being away, even during holidays and staying close to the factory, can seem like you neglect your partner”

“But..but that’s his job! What else is he supposed to do? He’s got no choice. Sacrifices need to be made”

“Don’t tell me, I know it firsthand. Maybe Charlotte didn’t want to be an obstacle on this dream and also wanted to focus on herself too.”

I’ve never felt bad about Charles before. Ever. I always ignore and mock him, because he constantly finds a way to insult me somehow but now, I felt sympathy for him.

“Oh. Well, I hope he gets better soon. Breaks ups happen in life. People come and go”

“You should have told that to yourself when you broke up with—“

“Ah ah ah! That’s not the same. Definitely not the same case Carlos. I was cheated on. They had scheduling conflicts.”

“So, why was Charlotte at the podium today? Why did she come all the way to Abu Dhabi?”

“As a final goodbye to him. Before dating, they were friends too, so why hang up on him now? A friendship shouldn’t end because a relationship did”

“I guess you’re right”

“So at least you should enjoy tonight! I don’t want another grumpy person around. Go find Isa and the girls”

“I will. Thank you Carlos”

“And if you need me anything, I’m over there with Lando”

I simply nod and pave my way towards the bar. I know it was a really bad idea to even go there, but something tempted me to do so.

Charles’s head was facing the hard wood of the bar’s surface and his hand was holding a semi finished vodka shot. Suddenly I felt a pinch at my heart. No no no, this is not happening!

What do I do now? Do I say sorry? Do I console him? Do I drive him back to the hotel? I don’t know how to drive a Ferrari what am I even thinking?

“Hey Charles” was all that came out before I received a groan as an answer. Great!

“Do you need any help? Want me to take you back to the hotel?” Finally, he raised his head and looked towards me. His eyes were red and sore. He was in an awful state. No matter how much I disliked him, I didn’t enjoy seeing him like this.

“What do you want from me Y/N?” He said before drinking the last sip from the shot.

“To help you! You’re drunk and apparently in a horrible state”

“Wow, what a way to make a man feel happy. Thanks”

“Ugh! Just tell me if you need anything. I’m trynna show some sympathy here”

“I don’t need you to pity me Y/N. Go find someone else’s ass to annoy”

“Fuck you Charles! Keep acting like this and you’ll remain alone”

Before I could move away from the chair, Charles grabbed me angrily by the arm.

“What did you say?”

“Stop being cruel!”

“Or what? I’ll die alone? I don’t care anymore. As it seems no one cares about me either! So it’s a win win case”

“You’re not letting anyone help you that’s why!”

“And why should I? I don’t need anyone to pity me after a hard time”

“I am sorry”

“Are you mocking me right now Y/N? Why are you apologizing?”

“Because of what I said”

“I don’t need your apology. I wasn’t offended”

“Ok fine, you know what? I give up. Have a good night Charles”

I release my arm from his and go to where Carlos and Lando are sitting. It was wrong to try and comfort Charles. He’s heartless anyway.

“Hey, I saw you at the bar with Charles. What did you say to him?” Carlos asked the moment I sat down next to him.

“I asked him if he needed anything, but was a total dick to me, so I gave up”

“Give him some time Y/N. I get what he’s going through. I felt like shit when me and Luisa broke up too. It wasn’t easy. I know you’re just trying to help” Lando tries to relax me with his words

“I understand that feeling too, Lando, but he could have at least declined my offer in a nicer way”

“Oh uh” Carlos exclaims

“What?” I looked at him quizzed. Then I turn around and see an angry Charles coming towards our way.

“Can I talk to you Y/N for a moment?”

“No”

“Y/N!” Carlos and Lando both look at me with raised eyebrows!

“Please. Just for five minutes. Then I’ll let you to your peace”

I raise and follow him towards the bar once more.

“I acted like an asshole before. I am sorry Y/N. You simply came to help me and I just got all cranky with you for no reason. I’ve been in the shambles lately and my mood is not exactly the best it’s ever been. Please forgive me.”

“You did act like an asshole and you were pretty mean for no reason, but I forgive you. I get it”

“You get what?”

“Break ups are never easy. I am so sorry. Carlos told me the news”

“I was kinda expecting it to happen. At least now she’s free and won’t have me as her burden”

“You weren’t her burden. You were someone she loved and didn’t enjoy seeing so broken and pressured most of the time”

“The past few months had been shit and I wasn’t exactly nice towards Charlotte. She deserves better than this.”

“You’re a good man Charles. And you deserve to be happy too. This season had been mostly painful but you did the best you could. We are all proud”

“I’ve actually never heard you say a good thing about me, so could you please repeat that so I can voice record it” he cracks up a joke to lighten the mood

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice here. And that’s the truth though. You gave it everything” I flash him a kind smile and probably the only smile I have in the two years I’ve known him.

“Thank you Y/N. Carlos is a smart man for having you around. You’re very sweet and I don’t deserve this. I should be sorry for all the things I’ve said about you. You realize I don’t mean them, right?”

“Wait! You don’t? But I thought you disliked me?”

“For what? Being nice and supportive? Are you serious? I was only teasing you to make you a bit mad. Because I am mad about you! I remember you during the podium celebration at Monza. It was one of the toughest races I’ve had this season and even though Carlos wasn’t on the podium, you were there for me. To cheer and be happy.”

My cheeks blushed in milliseconds. How does he remember me being on the podium celebration? I wanted to congratulate him, because even after getting pole, he lost the first place, which was heartbreaking. And hold on, did he say he’s mad about me? In like, the good way?

“Y/N?”

“Yes” our eyes had never locked this way before. It felt like he was looking deep into my soul, trying to find a way to say that “it’s okay, we are good now”

“May I kiss you?”

I don’t reply to him but simply connect our lips. I could feel a smile growing against his lips, but he immediately hid it and put more of himself into the kiss. His hand caressed my cheek and held my face firmly. I couldn’t believe that I was actually kissing Charles. The kiss was becoming even more deep and hungry. Sadly, he pulled away to take a breath.

“Oh, I wanted to do this for such a long time” Charles confessed and my jaw immediately falls on the floor.

“I think I like you now, Mr. Vice Champion”

“I think I’ve always liked you”

[densi-mber]

Special Agent Plant Killer Blye

AN: Hi there¡ Set in 4x12, Paper Soldiers. This deleted scene pic is still one of my biggest missing scenes for Densi. It would have been adorable to watch them banter and then create a more intimate/friendly moment.

*Pic source: Jacqniv’ IG, 4x12 Deleted scen

e. (Hope I uploaded it as it should, lol)

 ———————————-

Densimber. Day 17 Prompt: Write a missing Kensi, Deeks, or Densi scene.

The case was solved, the day was over. It’s been a long and stressful week so the team began gathering up all their belongings to go home for the weekend. They were skipping their usual Friday’ night beer this time, still they stayed inside the mission for about an hour talking about their plans and of course, they took that moment to deepen into Kensi’s misfortune with gardening.

As usual, Deeks began naming all the plants that she killed since they first met, coming up with ridiculous stories about their death cause. Kensi tried to defend herself but Callen and Sam joined the party on Deeks’ side, so her fight was completely lost.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Please be careful and do a favor to human kind, do not get close to any living creature, plant or animal.” Callen was the first to leave, followed by his partner who also gave her a charismatic good-bye. They both hugged her as usual and she took advantage and pinched them.

“You also have something to say before leaving? Because I’m won’t be be so kind to you.” Her look was dangerous but mischievous, she was really having fun.

“Well, I think all the evidence is enough to close the Serial Plant Killer case…” He began picking up his bag, but sat in the chair looking for something in his drawer. “But as I am a charming and benevolent person, I’ll give you a chance to correct your sad history.”

“I think we need to reevaluate that charming part you’re talking about because…” She stopped talking as Deeks pulled out a box. Her curious self took her next to his partner, to investigate the box as if trying to find out what it content was.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a gift.”

“I can see that. Who’s that for?”

“For you.” His smile was different. She knew it was for her, but she wanted to hear him saying that. “You can open it here, or at home. Either way, I have to be there.”

“And why is that?” The way she continued to challenge him was encouraging Deeks to make it more difficult for her.

“Because those are the rules. You take it or leave it.”

Kensi looked serious for a brief moment, as if pondering her choices. She obviously accepted his request and chose open it at home. Deeks was tempting his fate, and physical integrity, and he also made her stop to buy dinner.

“Will I ever get home today? Can you stop coming up with ridiculous conditions?” Deeks was really enjoying having his partner on her nerves.

“Be patient Kensalina. You’ll thank me later for spending so much quality time with me.”

“You’re delusional.”

After arriving home and eating the Chinese take-out, Kensi was finally given her box. She began inspecting it, trying to find out shape and size of what was inside. “Will you open it as a normal person?” He earned a cold look.

As she opened the box, her stern face turned into a soft smile. Kensi let out a small laugh while pulling out a fake plant with a bow. After admiring it, she looked up to Deeks.

“You’ll never kill this one, and no one will ever notice it’s fake.” He was also smiling, trying to memorize her face. Her reaction was adorable.

“I should be offended.” Kensi tried to act tough but the softness in her body was hard to hide.

“It’s just like you. It’s forever strong and radiant and no one will ever crush it down, no matter how hard life is to this plant, it’ll survive anyway. And the bow it just like me, spectacular, shining and essential.” He continued smiling after his clever description of their partnership/whatever else they were. “I don’t want you to be sad about this, maybe gardening it’s not your thing but you’re great in many other.”

She didn’t expected that, though she knew he was not trying to mock her, Kensi was grateful for his words. Maybe it was the beer, the tiredness or his gesture what made her to stop her “thank-you” mid-sentence and approach him, still with the plant in her hand.

“Come here.”

“Oh you wanna a hug?” Deeks’s face of disbelief made him look so naïve, she quickly realized that he was completely taken aback.

They hugged then, taking time to relax on each other. “I really appreciate you trying to make me feel better. And I really appreciate having you as my partner.” Kensi’s face was still in his neck. He felt a tickle that made him feel so much more.

“Just as your partner? Because this bad boy could…” They both began laughing at his innuendo as Kensi tried to shut him up with failed threats.   

 ———-

 AN 2: Hope you like it and sorry for any mistakes¡ Let’s continue enjoying Densimber¡ :D

[cosmictapestry]

dealer's choice 29 or 62

no or. only and

29. "don’t tempt me"

and

62. “i won’t bite. unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

morphienne oral in the library <3 a staple <3 prompts here

He is being annoying on purpose.

Lucienne is sitting at her desk, bowed over blueprints for a new atrium Mervyn has asked her to approve, and her lord wanders into her field of vision to read out loud to her, for the third time today, a factoid that disproves her point on something they disagreed about a week ago now.

She watches him, stone-faced, as he recites his finding, then looks up at her with innocent wonder. “Fascinating, don’t you agree?”

She can maintain her glare for only a few seconds more, and so she looks back down at the blueprint to mask her obvious amusement. “You certainly are chatty today.”

Lord Morpheus saunters closer, sets his hands down on the desk and leans over her. “Yes, well, you’re not paying attention to me.”

Lucienne grins, and she can’t hide the laughter in her voice. “I’ve been quite busy, my lord. I should think you are, too.”

“This is what I am busied with,” he says, patting the book he’s lain under one hand. “Research.  And I require your participation.”

“What you require is something better to do with your mouth,” she says, and it is supposed to be salacious, but they are in the library.

This doesn’t seem to matter to Lord Morpheus. She looks up at him out of curiosity and sees his tiny, mischievous smile has disappeared, the nervous energy gone from his frame. His tongue darts to wet his lips, leaves them glistening in the warm light. “Do not tempt me, Lucienne,” he murmurs.

She smiles sweetly at him. “Of course not. I should hate to make your job difficult.”

“You imagine me under your desk,” her lord says, and his hands flex on the wood. His starlit pupils leave only a thin ring of silver to the iris. “You should like me to make your job more difficult.”

Lucienne looks away, heat making her skin prickle under her suddenly uncomfortable clothes. “We are in the library, my lord.”

“There is no one around,” he counters, “and if there were, I would make it so none could see us. If that is your only qualm I would urge you to reconsider.”

Oh, he wants it, dear thing. Perhaps she has been neglecting him. She spares another glance around them, still seeing and hearing nothing but his own quickened breathing. “Very well,” she murmurs, her mouth dry with her anticipation. “Put your mouth to use, then, my lord.”

She sort of hopes he’ll drop and crawl under the desk, because that would be funny, but of course he does not do that. One minute she is looking up at her lord, and the next he is look up at her from between her legs, and she gives a startled yelp.

“My apologies,” Lord Morpheus says briskly, his hands on her already, petting up her thighs, gripping her arse and yanking her abruptly to the edge of the seat with her legs spread wide. He is still then, visibly forcing himself to slow down, to use his words. “I like when you imagine this. Me on my knees for you.”

Lucienne groans, and she threads one hand through his hair, the other making creases in the blueprint on her desk. “I can tell,” she says, hoarse. “You aren’t usually so impatient.”

“My apologies, again,” he sighs, leaning his cheek against her inner thigh. She can feel the faintest gust of his breath against her core. “It is difficult, sometimes.  Wanting.”

“I know,” Lucienne murmurs, and she pets his hair for another second, lets him relax between her legs. “You’d best remove everything below the waist. Make it a little easier on yourself.”

He murmurs his appreciation and does as she instructs, leaving her bare of her trousers and her knickers, her cunt glistening in front of him from below a neat thatch of curls. He breathes in deeply, which she wishes he wouldn’t do, it makes her entire face feel hot enough to burn. “Go on, then,” she says softly. “Be impatient.”

With a growl he sits up on his haunches, and he grabs her hips to pull her further off the chair, and he sways in to kiss her, chastely, right over her clit.  Lucienne jolts, her hand clenching in his hair, and she sees the flash of his teeth in a cute little snarl that becomes somewhat less cute when he nips her, sharp and quick, on her inner thigh.

Lord Morpheus freezes, like he hadn’t meant to do that, and he looks up at her with cautious eyes, as though she hasn’t made it a personal mission to mark up his pretty neck and thighs with as many bruises as possible. “I’m into that,” she says, which is supposed to be permission to do that again, please, if he wants to, but she gets the feeling that won’t be clear to him. “Biting is good.”

He huffs a laugh, still nervous, and presses his lips to the little stinging spot, then drags his teeth over it, a sharp little arc of sensation. He doesn’t linger there, and in the next moment he’s sealed his mouth over her clit again, and she feels the strength and heat of his tongue, and she tips her head back with a pleased sigh.

Lord Morpheus is more confident in this, and in using his hands, then he is in anything else they do. Getting him to take initiative in any other activity is usually fruitless, but in this--he is eager, aggressive, little slurps and moans escaping him as he runs his tongue up and down her slit in broad, firm strokes.  She pets his hair idly. “Just like that, love.”

He grunts and gives her another nip, light on her labia, making her jolt. She tugs his hair in retaliation, and he whines. In a swift movement he sits up straighter, tugs her hips higher, pulls her down further and nearly folds her over in her seat. She yelps, grabbing his shoulder with her free hand for balance, and he dives in, plunging his tongue inside of her.

Lucienne cries out, holding on for dear life, his hands a bruising force on her hips and his hair silky on her thighs and his tongue hot, retreating from her cunt to give her that delicious firm pressure swiping up and down on her clit, a hint of his teeth in the downward stroke, his breath coming much quicker and harder than it should be, and her eyes roll back.

She squeezes his head between her thighs, grinding his mouth against her with her hand in his hair, and she comes with a weak, warbling cry. Her muscles tense and ripple and flutter and the euphoria washes over her, and all at once she’s boneless, and her legs release their vice grip on her lord’s pretty face.

He lowers her legs, slowly, kissing her as he goes, rubbing her calves, a satisfied smile on his glistening mouth. She sits up slowly, drags herself back up onto the chair into a half-decent position. Properly seated and breathing hard, Lucienne pulls him in to rest his chin on her knee, his hands lax on his own thighs. He came in his trousers at some point, the fabric darkened with moisture, and he blinks up at her contentedly.

“I really shouldn’t be rewarding you for disrupting my work,” she mutters.

“I agree,” his eyes slip shut with a breezy sigh. “Terrible judgement, really.”

[wings-of-flying]

cba with ao3 tags rn, so tumblr gets the fic today (i'll post it properly tomorrow and maybe check through it idk)

jay writes a letter to kira to try to deal with her emotions

Dear Kira,

You know, I didn’t think I’d ever have to write to you again. I say write to you like this’ll ever end up in your hands: it won’t. Just like all the letters before. The ones I scribbled back when we were teens; the ones I folded into impossibly small pieces and shoved in a box under my bed. (Note to self: make sure to burn those when I go home. If I go home. Shit.) Point is, you won’t ever read this. I’ll probably never look at it again. It might even end up dissolving in the ocean, who knows. But I’m writing this anyway, because writing helps.

You’ll never understand the feelings that erupted in me when I heard your voice again. The anger, the pain, the fucking joy all merged into this bubbling mess of untamed emotion. I thought I might explode. And you just looked so radiant. Almost angelic. Golden, perfect, beautiful. As you always are. 

Then you started talking about Navy bullshit and you fucking fought me and I just had this thought in my head the whole time, like “Fuck, I’ve still got feelings for her”. It threw me off honestly.

Cause what am I supposed to do, Kira? Leave them? Go home? Stand at your side, at my family’s side, while we rip the world apart? 

I was tempted. There, I said it. I was tempted to join you. To have all that again. To have my family back, my home back. You back. I miss it all. Minus the, you know, ripping the world apart thing. And the “No you can’t make your own choices, you’re a Ferin” thing. Aside from that though, I miss it. You’ll never understand what it’s like to look your father dead in the eyes and just know that any chance of returning to the past has gone. They’ll never understand. Which is reason number two no one will ever read this letter. It’s practically destined for the sea now.

But yeah. Turns out I still have feelings for you. Which sucks, honestly, cause crushes are only supposed to last, what, a few months at best? I think I was twelve when I realised.

We were at school, hidden under one of those bushes at the back of the playing field. Hiding both from the summer heat and the other kids. The mean ones like- shit what was her name? Was it Nora, or was she the weird one? Whoever it was had called you something horrid and I’d tried to do my usual bit of standing up for you, but she pushed me and my knee started bleeding. I was completely prepared to keep fighting (I think you said my hair caught flame. I laughed at the time, but now I’m wondering if that’s another weird thing my family just do) but you dragged me away. 

So we crouched in one of those bushes. The one with the flowers you liked. The pink ones. And I don’t know what it was. It could’ve been the light coming through the gaps in the leaves, the way it made your horn glint and sparkle. Or your gentle touch as you cleaned my wound (it was only a graze, but you treated it so seriously. Your tongue stuck out a little while you wiped away the blood.) Or the smallest grin you had even when telling me off for getting myself hurt again, because I think secretly you enjoyed me looking after you like that. 

It almost doesn’t matter what started it, because I started noticing all these things and my heart just warmed instantly. I was practically glowing inside. I hadn’t really had those feelings before but it reminded me of a song Mum used to sing about the sun as a symbol of love or something.

That’s when I first realised.

I pushed it down for years and years, pretending everything was fine and normal and I wasn’t crushing hard on my best friend. It died down after Ava… after that. And then I left, so it all sort of stopped. I forgot about it, as much as it pains me to say. I forgot about you. Or at least I thought I did.

But now you’re back and it’s all right back to where we started. It’s a beautiful place, but fuck it hurts. I don’t know whether I can do this again. The butterflies have grown into whole-ass birds, the size of eagles. And now everything’s so much worse because we’re on opposite sides. Gods, I wish I could explain it all to you. Get you to see how wrong the Navy is, how pirates aren’t what we were taught. Wouldn’t that be easier? Then we could have a chance. I could try to be brave and talk to you. 

You want to meet with me. Talk about things. Probably ask more questions. But you have to understand why I can’t do that. Not just logistically, with the chance of you tracking us or organising some sort of trap (gods I hate that this is something I have to worry about with you now). But also emotionally. I can’t. 

I can’t see you and talk to you and be so so close to what life used to be like. Because I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t be able to resist. And I need to resist. 

You wouldn’t understand, even if I did try to explain. So why bother? You won’t change, even if I wish you would. Just like you didn’t kiss me or ask me out those times I wished you would. You won’t change. So maybe it’s for the best that I try to forget you. I just wish it weren’t so fucking difficult. You’re pretty unforgettable, really.

I miss you. So fucking much. I love you, I think. You’re awful and you tried to kill my friends, but I love you. You mean everything to me. But I’ve got to move on. Else you’ll kill me alive. And we’re about to fight in a fucking war, so I kinda need to be alive for that. You get it.

I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done and everything I will do. If we cross paths on the battlefield, I hope you’re stronger than I am and you shoot. I wouldn’t blame you.

Goodbye.

Jay Ferin.

[orangelilies]

therapy thoughts

today i had my second therapy session for this month (november was a nightmare for scheduling), and two of the stand-out moments involved two tests my therapist conducted with me: 1. the animal test 2. the cube/desert test

i'm mentioning this here partly to reflect and partly to make a note of these tests so i can dig a little deeper and make some notes for myself. i bought a file earlier this year to start collecting therapy exercises/techniques, and both appeal to me.

for a quick rundown: 1. the animal test i was asked to choose an animal i'd transform into given the option. mention the qualities about it i liked - disposition and appearance.

i was asked to choose a second animal, similar deal. then a third, similar deal.

my animals were, in order: 1. sloth 2. panda 3. honey badger we then went through what these animals represent 1. the ideal self - who do i most want to be and what does this reveal about me 2. the perceptual self - how do others see me 3. the true self - who am i actually my take-away was that my ideal and perceptual self are pretty close in alignment. namely, i want to be someone who is seen as being relaxed and low demand and that this is largely the impression i give. what was interesting, though, was the third because not only did i have to explain what a honey badger was but it made me aware of the fact that i'm actually quite a resilient and stubborn person. that i am, for the most part, content with who i am and how i look despite the fact that i am a little bit funny looking.

i'm tempted to send my therapist a picture of a honey badger so she can appreciate what i mean because i'm sure she thinks i made this animal up.

2. the cube test i'm going to leave this link here, because i did do a bit of digging on this one and found it to be pretty interesting.

we did a slight variation of this one in that i was asked to imagine a desert scene and not a meadow, but i can see how either could translate.

takeaways from this for me was: 1. my cube was large, grounded and made of glass (stained not transparent) which meant that i'm a more or less grounded and transparent person. we spoke a little about the choice of making the glass stained (i said blue) and how this color symbolism tied into my self-concept.

2. my ladder was metal, propped against the cube. this is apparently not unusual (the propping against the cube).

3. the cube and ladder were directly in front at me, but at a distance so i could see the whole of the cube. we didn't talk about distance so i might go look into that later, honestly.

4. my horse was beside me, looking very confused. it was a painted mustang (although my brain kept going to a more tortoise shell pattern, which may or may not be a thing). this was apparently significant because it reflected my friendships and romantic relationships.

5. any plant life in the area. i, knowing little if anything about the desert despite having a wonderful friend from arizona, who will probably disown me for my ignorance, so i just picked a (although i thought) arbitrary number - eight. turns out it wasn't that arbitrary at all but reflecting the number of people i love/am closest too; wouldn't you know it, it really was eight!!

6. finally, i had to imagine a storm and then talk about how the storm would affect these individual elements. the takeaway here was that, even if the storm was bad, it wouldn't break or destroy or otherwise ruin any of the other elements, which apparently means i'm quite comfortable in both myself and in my relationships. which was nice if a little surprising to me? yet as i think about it, i think i have been feeling a lot more certain lately. more grounded.

in other words, it was a good session. it was especially good for me to realize that, actually, the growth and deeper understanding i've been working toward seems to actually be happening and isn't just an aspirational thing i'm striving toward.

[amateur-glass-chewer]

on "if you leave a watch unguarded"

spent some time on the internet today. this was a mistake. now i am going to rant into the void.

(this is a rant about rape culture and bs arguments that blame victims for "objectifying themselves" or "asking for it" or whatever. click away now if that's a trigger.)

people like to make the argument that women showing skin is like standing in public, unguarded, while carrying $1 mill (or wearing an expensive watch or something).

before we even get into equating WOMEN with WATCHES, this argument is fundamentally flawed. in this essay (ok so it's not a proper essay, sue me) we are going to go over why it's a shit argument, starting with reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that females aren't objects, because apparently "females aren't objects" is too hard for people to understand.

so.

let us begin.

...

point the first: stealing is still wrong.

here is the thing:

if i stand in public glassy-eyed while carrying $1 mill in cash for some damn reason (why the fuck is this the classic clapback), it is still not my fault if i get robbed. it is the robber's fault.

here is the thing about ethics:

the goodness of an action is not based upon how easy or hard it is.

it is easier to rob a disabled child than it is to rob a trained and armed adult. this does not make it ethical to rob the child. this does not make it the child's fault for being robbed.

it may be more tempting to rob $1 mill if the security doesn't look tight. maybe you won't get caught because there are no security cameras.

still the robber's fault if they decide to rob.

so there's your fundamental flaw: it's still not the victim's fault if they get robbed even if they lack security.

...

point the second: consider other crimes.

if we've decided that all crimes are equal -- that we can make conclusions about every other crime based on an analysis of stealing money -- then we're gonna have to cross reference with other crimes.

and, well.

i do not walk around wearing a bulletproof vest.

this does not give you license to shoot me.

i do not carry a gun or a knife.

this does not give you license to shoot me or stab me.

i do not have a security team.

this does not give you license to kill me.

a lack of self-defense does not negate victimhood.

...

point the third: temptation is not an invitation.

i have a functioning heart.

this is not an invitation to abduct me so you can steal my heart to transplant it in someone else or dissect it for study or eat it because you're a cannibal.

doesn't fucking matter how attractive something is or how well-suited you think it'd be to your own ends.

you don't get to be an asshole just because you wanted to.

...

point the fourth: clothing is not a defense.

so let's say those arguments weren't enough. fine. for the sake of argument, i will pretend (for like, five seconds) that stealing is fine, as long as the victim was undefended, and that stealing is the same as rape.

well, then: clothing is not a defense against rape in the first place.

i hate to break it to you, but even IF rapists were deterred by different fashion choices, well, everyone has different tastes.

even when we're talking about discourse over how much exposed skin is acceptable, people will say both "it's a woman's responsibility to be modest" and "maybe men are just staring at you bc that much skin showing is ugly". so... if that kind of bare skin is unattractive to some men, then wouldn't that be a rape deterrent against those men?

i think a lot about my own body: about the fact that i am disabled and generally fucked up. i'd argue that's rather unattractive and un-sexy of me. but the blood and scars that make me (at least conventionally) ugly might be a turn-on for some. the unattractive disabilities might make me an easier target. so no, "ugliness" is not a defense.

(also, subpoint: what if wearing clothes shows that i own clothes and that motivates someone to rob me? guess there's really no winning here.)

...

point the fifth: attention-seeking is not always sex-seeking

"but women wear those outfits to get attention"

have you considered that even if they did, creepy sexual attention is NOT the kind of attention they were seeking?

like. maybe i wear short-sleeves to the hospital to provide easier access to my arms for shots/venipuncture when i am demonstrating healthcare-seeking behavior. yes, i'm dressed in a way to help seek attention for medical purposes. no, that is not an invitation to ogle or rape me.

rape is fundamentally non-consensual. so no, they were not asking for it.

we do not "objectify ourselves" by wearing revealing clothing. you (general "you") objectify us by deciding to think of us as objects.

...

point the sixth: people are not objects.

and here is the kicker, and the argument that should have always been enough:

people are not objects.

it does not matter how big their breasts are. it does not matter whether you can see their thighs. it does not matter how heavy their makeup is.

people are not objects.

even IF stealing was ok as long as the goods were out in the open; even IF stealing was ok as long as the goods looked tempting; even IF stealing was ok as long as it was easy --

people are not objects.

...

TL;DR -- stealing objects is illegal, no matter how easy or tempting.

and even if it wasn't? PEOPLE ARE NOT OBJECTS.

[feralmoonlight]

Oops today has turned into me musing endlessly on the spooky season Vampire Sun and Werewolf Moon (Same body, more like different mindset enough for Sun during the day to give Moon his own personality in the back of his mind, but it’s one single mind/consciousness and not two individuals) SO I’m just going to wordvomit the various blurbs ive been throwing at people today down here, enjoy. TO RECAP Good afternoon I am here to throw a horribly indulgent and stupid AU into the void of vampire!Sun and werewolf!Moon as a messed up 2 for 1 deal because this universe is painfully lacking on vampires afflicted with lycanthropy and in this essay I will-

You hadn’t wanted to move to a new town. This move was not by choice. But since you were still living with your family, when the decision came down hard with no room for arguments, and the roof over your head was in danger, what other choice did you really have? It wasn’t like your job was one of a kind, boring minimum wage that you could throw a stone in the new city and find something just as good. All of your best friends were online so that at least wasn’t a problem… One upside to this new location was the town itself at least? It was Old with a capital OH. The kind that made you imagine history was walking beside you on the streets as you explored. Details you never saw in today’s modern building decorated every facade, houses that were older than any of the residents reigned in their own unique glory. Some so opulent you couldn’t imagine moving in them, and some so run down it was a wonder they were still standing. You’d admit it was pretty cool, if you weren’t still fighting your ire at having your old life uprooted from under you. From up on the veranda of one of those more fancy looking houses, the occupant leaned against the railing, openly watching you with wide eyes as you meandered down the street. It was weird. Really weird. Weirder still when his hand shot into the air in an enthusiastic wave, way too much energy for such a hot fall afternoon. You offered a timid wave back. Interesting neighbors…

Unrelated, non robo au where sunny is this sweet daycare worker dude that is also a part time florist(MAYBE? possibly scrapped?) but he's also a full time werewolf and moon doesn't like company. Because spooktober

TLDR Vampire Sunny hires you on a whim to maybe do some casual yardwork for him cause the sun is icky and also maybe as a snack when he gets bored ish? But you manage to charm him enough the first time or two that he only takes a sip and is like. Mm Yes Good, I’ll keep this one around for a bit.

Unrelated I've decided that for the vampire/werewolf thing, I'm not going to really 'describe' human Sun, cause it feels weird. A seemingly ever grinning face, tall, large hands with long fingers, almost unnervingly thing but somehow way stronger than the lean frame should be capable of, an eccentric ruffly wardrobe that leans towards rich deep reds and vibrant golds... yes. But details about hairstyle, skintone, anything like that ain't gonna happen More ramblings under the cut~

I don’t know the source of this image, friend linked it to me off pintrest but it’s so spot on I love it so I cry. Also, sun is absolutely going to tie a little ribbon around your neck with a little sun/moon charm. Both a 'this is mine' and a 'leave it alone' billboard to others in the area Friend also linked me this Lunar Clock Thing

He has you doing all this work to make his yard look usable and welcoming and stuff but he only ever looks at it. Doesn't enjoy it. And no one seems to ever visit even though he's super friendly, what gives? You'd think such an old neighborhood everyone would know each other but no one seems to really talk about Sunny much Like at all. No one knows Jack about this guy Yet without fail, every time you pass by, there he is, stepping outside to wave hello and tempt you over for a chat[2:43 PM]Eventually finds out you do schooling at home and offers you his tutelage. Apparently this dude is also stupidly smart about a lot of things??

More excuses to make you visit, to have you linger. Sit closer. Definitely not lean against you with a slow deep breath, definitely not smelling you for some creepy reason. Not that you pick up on it. But he is a little less warm than you expected. The closeness is enough to set your cheeks on fire and he pulls back immediately, excusing himself to put on some tea(and get a soda for you. He started keeping those around just for you, you realized)

Always rushes you away before dark though. Says the streets are dangerous.

Very dangerous

Were!moon is basically a feral beast under the full moon but as it waned to nothing he has a cold clarity to him. Suns happy self sombers and while it's still the same mind, it's a different personality that takes over at night that pushes him to give into his more instinctual urges of all kinds

Sunset is a toss up on if he's safe or bordering into dangerous based on time of the month. You could probably survive when the night is dark with only some minor nibbling but after the halfway point your life is on the line. He will kill. For now. Time may change this

Oh, don't be fooled, this is already the case, and the reason (second reason) he didn't turn you into a one time snack. The fact you're absolutely delicious is definitely a first, an exquisite treat to be savored slowly, but it's after the second or third visit that the reason he was excited to see you come by after that wasn't purely because he had the hungies. The times you come in to sit down and spend time with him, at ease around him,  laughing with him even... It's something he hasn't gotten to enjoy in years, if not a couple decades. The inner voice of Moon in his mind that tells him to protect himself, remember how humans hunted him, would still hunt him if they knew, the danger of it all... it's something to be wary of, but you... You don't shy away(much) when he rests a hand on your shoulder(without his influence), you come to him willingly, stay longer than is necessary, and what should have been just a simple effort to keep things tidy in his yard has, of your own doing turned into making it nicer.  You've brought new flowers, he's seen you scrub old moss from some of the little statue figures that hide around the bushes, you even asked him about paint to touch up parts of the fence that had begun to rust to keep it in good condition(something you were meaning to do one of these nights, but just hadn't bothered the motivation). It's a friendship, true and true, even if you're unaware that you're befriending an actual monster that isn't out of the woods of ruining your friendship yet. He would truly be upset with himself it if happened.

Again.

Aaaand I think that’s all I really have at the moment for this, but take it and enjoy <3

[forever-rogue]

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less. 

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that. 

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first. 

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days. 

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that. 

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave. 

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin. 

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you. 

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination. 

You both pretended that nothing had happened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach. 

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you)

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[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

[kurowrites]

Can I give you 2 prompts for wangxian fics? 1: meddling Xichen (to ship) + jealous lwj + oblivious wwx and 2: kissing practice + childhood friends + caught red handed by lan qiren. Thank you so much! I love your modern au fics.

I am relatively sure that this is NOT what you wanted, but you know, something something beggars something. ;) Once it had been planted in my mind, I had to do it.

---

Lan Wangji was aware that due to his distant nature and his courtesy name, some people falsely assumed that he was blind to all worldly concerns around him.

This was, however, a completely wrong conclusion. He was very much aware of what was happening around him. Just as much as he was aware that this supposed ‘conference’ that they were all attending was little more than a shoddily hidden marriage market.

Which would have been fine, it was not like Lan Wangji did not see the necessity to build stronger ties between the sects. It was not his place to judge such things, and, after all, marriage was a necessity to sustain a stable society. He might not approve of the vulgarity of some of the participants of this conference, but he did not deny the necessity of such an event, however impractical and distasteful it might be to him, personally.  

However.

Why Lan Xichen, his own brother, seemed to have made a very strong connection with Wei Wuxian at this conference, was completely beyond him.

Out of all possible matches, Lan Xichen seemed to favour Wei Wuxian over anyone else!

Lan Wangji was unable to make sense of it, no matter how long he considered the case before him.

A marriage between them would not only be questionable in terms of inter-sect politics, he also doubted that their wildly different personalities would be a good foundation for a successful marriage. Lan Xichen should be perfectly aware of these things, and yet, he seemed to prefer Wei Wuxian’s company to that of anyone else.

And Wei Wuxian… Lan Wangji did not want to make unfounded assumptions, but aiming for a sect leader seemed to be reaching very high for someone in his position. Especially when there were other suitable matches to be made that were much closer to his own age and status. Such an attempt was sure to incur the displeasure of all other major sects, and several minor ones, too.

He considered bringing the evils of such an unsuitable match to his brother’s attention, but he did not want to hurt his brother’s feelings, and Lan Wangji knew that no matter how carefully he chose his words, they would end up sounding petty and biased.

His brother knew very well how he felt about Wei Wuxian. He had been a witness to more than one fight between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and yet he seemed to have decided on Wei Wuxian without hesitation. None of Lan Wangji’s words would be able to change his choice now, he was sure.

It was just.

The thought of having someone like Wei Wuxian as his brother-in-law was unbearable. Loud and obnoxious and infuriating, how could his brother bear the presence of a person like that? And even worse, bring such a person to Cloud Recesses?

Perhaps, after the marriage, Lan Wangji would be allowed to go into seclusion for a while, in order to work on his cultivation in silence and contemplation. Once Wei Wuxian was installed at Cloud Recesses, there would be an end to all peace, that he was sure of.

He tried to make peace with that thought, and redoubled his own efforts to evade all the potential marriage partners and their families that seemed to have set their sight on him. As the second son of a prestigious sect, he had proven to be rather more popular on a marriage market like this than he had wished for, and by now, he sincerely regretted letting his brother convince him to accompany him to this sham of a conference.

He was determined not to accidentally fall into an engagement, and planned to leave the conference as the same staunch bachelor he had been before.

 “Lan Zhan!” came the loud voice that Lan Wangji would have preferred not to hear right now, or ever again.

One moment later, Wei Wuxian bumped into his shoulder.

“Ayoo,” he said once he had glanced into Lan Wangji’s face. “Someone is grumpy today. Are you getting tired of being hounded by pretty girls? You should be happy! You can pick any girl you like, they’re basically throwing themselves at your feet!”

If Lan Wangji had less self-possession, he might have felt tempted to strangle Wei Wuxian right there and then. Alas, he was in control of his emotions, and so he only levelled Wei Wuxian with a disapproving glare.

He did not want anyone to throw themselves at your feet. He did not want to get married. He did not care for pretty girls.

Wei Wuxian seemed to take his quelling glare as encouragement, and laughed heartily.

“I see, Hanguang-jun does not approve!” he teased. “There is no one good enough for Lan Zhan, after all!”

Lan Wangji wondered about that particular remark, because Wei Wuxian obviously believed himself to be good enough for Lan Xichen, who arguably was above Lan Wangji in dignity and respect. Lan Wangji was only the second son.

But perhaps Wei Wuxian was teasing him, alluding to his taciturn and forbidding nature. That made more sense. After all, Lan Wangji’s brother was the more friendly and approachable one between the two of them, no competition at all.

It needed far more than a gentle smile to impress Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian rambled on about all the dramatic scenes he had witnessed during the conference, the little jealousies that had been happening among those that were looking for a marriage partner in order to secure the status of their sect.

Lan Wangji did not really care about these things, but he let Wei Wuxian talk nonetheless, content to listen as long as he was not required to speak.

“Seriously though, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian ended his excursion. “You don’t have your eye on anyone? Come on, tell me! I’m not going to tattle! I’ll help you!”

That was precisely not what Lan Wangji wanted, and the last thing he needed was ‘help’ from Wei Wuxian, of all people. So he tightly closed his lips, and walked faster. Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian was almost as tall as him, and so he easily kept pace with Lan Wangji easily.

“Lan Zhaaaaan, come on, don’t be so stubborn,” Wei Wuxian pouted, swishing his ponytail back and forth in disappointment. “I’m trying to be supportive.”

“Wei Ying had better mind his own business,” Lan Wangji said curtly.

“Wei Ying has no business to mind,” Wei Wuxian whined, his pout growing impossibly more pronounced.

“What were you discussing with my brother, then?” Lan Wangji asked impatiently.

He regretted his words as soon as they had left his mouth.

“Oh, you saw that?” Wei Wuxian replied, perking up immediately. “Xichen-ge has been trying to convince me to come to Cloud Recesses again, to study some more or something. I wonder why he’s so insistent on it, I wasn’t that bad of a student, was I? I shouldn’t need special education!”

Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian in surprise, but there was no impish glint in his eye, and no mischievous smile on his lips. Wei Wuxian was entirely serious.

“Brother asked you to come study at Cloud Recesses again?” Lan Wangji asked.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Though I’m not sure why he would ask. I feel Lan Qiren will have a qi deviation if I visit a second time.”

Lan Wangji needed a moment to process this new information.

Apparently, Lan Xichen had invited Wei Wuxian to Gusu. But there seemed to have been made no promise of marriage, or Wei Wuxian was expertly deceiving him on that account.

But there was no real reason for Wei Wuxian to be deceptive. On the contrary, Wei Wuxian would probably enjoy to lord an engagement to his brother of Lan Wangji with gusto.

Which meant that his brother had never made an offer. And yet, he had invited Wei Wuxian to Gusu.

He had invited Wei Wuxian to Gusu.

Deliberately.

Without making an offer of marriage.

Lan Wangji froze for a moment and gripped Bichen, considering.

He looked at Wei Wuxian, who looked back at him with a half-smile on his face, evidently confused about Lan Wangji’s strange reaction to his words.

Oh, it was starting to make sense now.

It was all clear.

He was going to have to commit fratricide.

“But, you know,” Wei Wuxian said, now smiling fully, clearly unaware of Lan Wangji’s dark, dark thoughts.

“If Lan Zhan asks me, I will come.”