#I have no motivation to do anything enjoyable

[acid-ixx]

i feel like reader from again&again would end up being hypersexual, idk if anyone has mentioned it before but they’d up having a lot of trust issues and attachments issues.

— masterlist !

tw: sexual themes and talks of sexual assaults.

i was contemplating whether i should make them hypersexual or not!!! i'm speaking from my own personal experience that it's a very complicated feeling to portray. chasing for that momentary high, doing anything you can just to feel pleasure because you were always stripped from attention that you find it in other ways, the absolute disgust that comes after, the regret, yet the constant cycle of returning to that habit even after you promised to stop from one round, doing it over and over again even if at most times it feels like you're losing your enjoyment and doing it all out of the need for fulfilment; i can do that, but that will be bordering on dub-con and darker themes if i were to write it, which i'm not sure if some readers of mine will like, especially since conner is the love interest—

but truthfully, i think it would do well for a hurt/comfort prompt after they get together. you know, trying to push yourself too hard by trying to pleasure kon despite your inexperience, fearing that he'll leave if you don't do what he wants. the panic, the hesitance on even feeling his body because, truly, you've never held someone with different intentions, never been touched so intimately by others before yourself. and that kind of turns into an addiction, a need to do whatever it takes to keep his eyes on you even if it destroys you inside out.

yet your boyfriend is receptive, he notices how your lingering touches can sometimes feel cold yet done so through necessity, how you chase after your peak even if it brings more pained tears than pleasurable moans. how you beg for more yet shamefully hide yourself from a mirror right after. his confrontation after just a week, his soft voice promising that there's no need to rush it all out, how he doesn't see you as an object but his equal, his power, his everything. how there's no price to pay to obtain his love, your body an altar than an offering, how his was always yours to begin with.

and with how the family will react to this? honestly, the first person who would break at the moment he hears this information is dick grayson.

most portray him as a playboy, a puppet for most to sexualize. he takes advantage of that, turns it into his weapon, but deep within, he has his fair share of trauma being assaulted by not just one, but two (or more, depending on the comics) women. and with just how silenced and invalidated men are too when it comes to their trauma, it wouldn't be a surprise that, well, dick would be incredibly heartbroken realizing how his baby bird, the very same child he swore to protect, trudges the same path as him, carries the same burden on their back while pretending like everything's okay.

it destroys him, inside-out, how he's the oldest, the one supposed to guide the people around him, the one who buries all the pent-up anger, the turmoil at carrying the burden of all the terrible things that happened to him, turning it into motivation— yet ultimately failing to guide his very own sibling.

the one he introduced to the manor, the one he came to call his baby bird on the very same day.

i think about that a lot, a moment where he'll suddenly barge into your room, whether it would be before you'd be before you'd be kidnapped or not, and just... hugging you, burying his head on your shoulders while his hands just encapsulate your entire body. you don't know how or why he found you, don't know why he's shivering, why he's muttering sorry's and unbidden promises, desperate callings to your name like he just can't believe you're still alive, your shoulders damp with tears and dick just refusing to let go of you. i think about it a lot, how in the case of sexual trauma, you'd be dick's ultimate failure, a person he failed to protect from the very same thing that destroyed him. and yet he couldn't even bond it over with you, because you're so... so guarded and so broken that even if you and dick now share just one similarity, you still refuse his comfort, his promises that never again will you handle it alone.

it's not impossible that the reader would be hypersexual whilst still sporting insecurities. i have my own bodily issues too that i'm coping with; i typically emulate that onto the reader. so if anything from above fascinates my readers, i'm willing to write it out for future chapters because i love tackling complex topics, it helps me make my brain bigger teehee.

[rynwritesreid]

You found me| Spencer Reid

A/N: you know that episode where Derek is making Garcia and Reid do a field/physical test? Yeah that is my inspiration for this😋

Summary: Spencer needs to get fit for a physical, and you know just the trick ;)

Content: Fem! Reader. BDSM themes (dom/sub dynamics). Primal play. Mentions of marking (tattoos and marks from spanking). Nicknames (only princess and good girl). Orgasm denial. Oral (both Male and female receiving). Spencer is our consent king in this though!)

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

Spencer had been working out, which for someone who had hated exercise and had turned you down every time you had invited him to come on a run with you, is weird. You wanted to ask him what was going on, there was obviously a chance he just wanted to get fit, but something was telling you that just wasn’t it.

You were sitting on your sofa, when you heard your front door unlock and Spencer come through. He was sweating and practically panting, you recognised this look though, it was someone who had just come back from a run. Instead of greeting you, he walked straight to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water

“Spencer, what’s going on? I have never once seen you go on a run. Is everything okay?” Spencer took a long swig of water before finally turning to face you, his breathing evening out. “Yeah, everything is okay. It’s just the FBI are making me, and Garcia do a physical.” He paused briefly, as he tried to catch his breath some more, “and as you know, I don’t work out, so I’m scared I’m not going to pass.”

You pat the side of the sofa next to you, inviting him to sit down.  “We’ll lucky for you, you’ve got your own personal trainer right here,” you tease, giving him a little wink. Spencer chuckles slowly as he takes a seat beside you, leaning back against the cushions.

“I don’t want you to go out of your way to train me.” Spencer has never been one to ask for help, and unless push comes to shove, he never takes the help people offer him. “I won’t be going out of my way to train you, and you know I love running.” Spencer doesn’t respond though, you know he will be thinking it through. “Plus, if you want, I can make it fun for you. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to make it enjoyable.” 

“Oh really? And what might those be?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You practically know everything about him, what motivates him, what makes him smile and laugh, and what makes him talk when he’s going through something. You could tell him that you’ll watch every single doctor who episode, or go to that Russian film festival with, but he knows you’d do that anyway. 

“I can make it a game, give you a reward,” you give him another wink. “But before I suggest anything, maybe you should do some homework, just to make sure it would be something you’d enjoy.” 

Spencer raises an eyebrow, “alright, I’m listening. What kind of game are we talking about here?” you let a small giggle, but you could feel your cheeks heating up. You had done what you were to suggest before, but not with Spencer because you thought he would hate every second of it. 

“Okay, don’t laugh at me, and you can absolutely say no.” But Spencer just smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I won't laugh, I promise. Tell me what you have in mind." You let out a sigh, “erm okay. I…” you pause, maybe you shouldn’t be bringing this up, but it’s too late now “oh god, okay I just need to spit it out. Maybe, we could turn it into primal pay.” You watch his reaction, but he just continues to smile at you, “you know what it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry.” 

Spencer's smile only widened at your suggestion, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Primal play, huh? I've never tried that before," he said, clearly intrigued. "It could be fun to give it a go."

You couldn't believe he was actually considering it. Your cheeks flushed even more at the thought of what you had just proposed. "Are you sure? I mean, we don't have to if you're not comfortable with it." You fidgeted nervously, unsure of what his response would be.

*

Just like you knew he would, Spencer had researched everything there is to know about primal play. And, unlike what all his friends thought about him, Spencer was a very dominant person. You could psychoanalysis this and say it was because Spencer couldn’t give up control, not with everything he’s been through. But you also knew Spencer loves knowing you take care of him in ways no one else can. 

“So, I’ll be chasing you? That doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Spencer’s tone was thick, and questioning.  “Well, that’s because you need motivation. Plus, I’m already in tune with my body when I’m running. I know when to stop, when to slow down, how to control my breathing and when I should speed up. You need to learn this, and that’s how you’ll pass.” You grinned mischievously at Spencer as you explained your plan. 

While Spencer had been working and researching, you’d been planning out a route, one away prying eyes. Indecent exposure would most likely get Spencer fired, and that would wreck him. 

“Also, if you think about, you can chase me like I’m a criminal.” You let out a little giggle, while Spencer stared daggers at you. Spencer had done a lot of things to you, he has deprived you of all your senses but touch, he’s gone weeks without letting you cum because you’d pushed him a little to hard while meeting his friends, he’s made you beg, ride his thigh, spank you so much that the next morning it was hard to sit.  But this was new to him, and you didn’t want him to do something he was comfortable with. 

“And when I catch you, do you want me to treat you like a criminal?” Spencer sounded too cocky for someone who had just started running. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, “if you catch me Spencer, if. You can treat me however you like. But remember I get a 10 second head start, I’ve been running way longer than you, and I know these trails like the back of my hand.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I like the sound of that," he said, his voice low and husky. "It's on then."

“No cheating Spencer, I’ll know if you have started running before the 10 seconds are up. Okay?”  Spencer smirked, "I wouldn't dream of it."

You got yourself ready, mentally psyching yourself up. Spencer just stood there and watched, his eyes roaming all your body. “Okay, I’m going to start now Spencer.” And without any other warning you started, you’d done this before, you knew your body. 

This was second nature to you, you knew you could outrun him. You had gained a good amount of distance before you heard Spencer’s footsteps speed up. You knew that fear was all a part of this, it was part of the enjoyment. But Spencer been taller than you and having chased people far more dangerous than you made you nervous. 

“I’m going to catch you princess, you know I am. So why not just give up?” Spencer was taunting you. But you weren’t going to answer him though, that was just going to give up where you were. 

You felt your breathing pick up; your heart was starting to beat faster. “Princess?” Why was Spencer calling you? You knew he would say the safe word if needed. You could feel him getting under your skin, maybe that was all part of his plan.

You started to feel your shins start to burn, you knew you needed to give your body a little break, but you didn’t want him to catch you this early on. You found a tree that seemed big enough to hide, which allowed you to slow your breathing down.

Spencer could see you were slowing down, but he knew you wouldn't give up that easily. He had to be strategic in his approach. As he neared the spot where he thought you might be hiding, he slowed down his own pace, trying to listen for any signs of your whereabouts.

Just as he reached the tree you had hidden behind, you darted out from the other side, catching him off guard. His heart raced as he scrambled to catch up with you, his eyes locked on your back. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, laughing as he tackled you to the ground.

Spencer was putting a fair amount of weight on you, ensuring you couldn’t wiggle free from him. His eyes were pinned on yours; he could see the fear in them. This is where he would normally stop and ask for verbal consent, but he had researched enough into this, and he knew you were scared of him.

“You did say I could do whatever I wanted to you, didn’t you?” Spencer’s tone was gently, he was making sure you were still okay with this, he wanted you to feel safe with him and that his wasn’t going to push you into something you didn’t want.

“Yes, Spencer, I did say that” you paused as you tried to catch your breath, “and I meant it as well.” 

Spencer smirked at your response, his eyes scanning the rest of your body, and he allowed you some more wiggle room. Maybe he knew what you were going to do and wanted you to fight back a little, or maybe he has just been nice. But once you realised you could move, you realised yourself from his grip. 

“Brat.” Spencer spat out as he watched you run away, “I caught you fair and square, Princess. I’ll catch you again.” You didn’t let up though, you just looked back a little and continued running.

But Spencer was determined to catch you again, but he also knew this was helping him train a little more. You could feel your legs start to hurt again though, but you didn’t want to stop, you couldn’t stop. Spencer saw you though, he watched as your pace slowed and knew he didn’t have to wait long before he could catch you again.

He caught up to you quicker than expected, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close to him. You could feel his breath on your neck as he whispered, "Gotcha again, Princess."

Without any warning, Spencer lifted you of the ground and draped you over his shoulder, which made you realised he had obviously been weight training. “Why’d you run again, princess?”

You didn’t reply though and just allowed him to carry you back to your apartment. But by not replying, it made Spencer give you a firm spank, but you still didn’t react. You were still draped over his shoulder as he unlocked your front door, and as he reached for his handcuffs

You felt the cold metal of the handcuffs wrap around your wrist, securing them in place. You knew what was coming next; Spencer always played by his rules.

He carried you into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. "I'm going to make you pay for running again, Princess." 

Spencer practically threw you on the bed, which allowed him to take of your trainers and running shorts. “Did you go commando just for me?” You gave him a small nod.

“Your glistening princess, does getting chased turn you on this much?” You blushed, feeling vulnerable and exposed in just your sports bra. "Yes, Spencer," you whispered.

“Now, I was promised a reward for catching you, but then you decided to run off again, which means I’m going to have punish you.” he tutted at you. “How am I going to punish you for that, huh?”

He retrieved a leather paddle from the closet. "This is going to sting a bit, princess," he warned as he raised the paddle high above your head. 

Spencer brought the paddle down hard on your thigh, making you cry out in surprise and pain. He gave you one more strike on the other thigh.

You squirmed beneath him, the pain from the paddle strikes mingling with arousal. You were both in pain and turned on. 

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I won't run from you again."

Spencer smirked, his eyes roaming over your body as he held the paddle in one hand. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," he murmured, trailing his finger over your heated skin.

Spencer leaned down close to your ear, his breath teasing against the sensitive skin as he whispered, "I promise you, princess, I'll make sure you never want to run from me again."

Spencer started kissing your neck, this didn’t feel like a punishment though, this felt like his reward for you. Spencer lips seemingly were kissing you every part of your body, apart from the part that wanted him to the past. But that was long, his tongue and teeth glided over your clit, which caused you to let out a small loan. You knew Spencer loved doing this, he had once stated that if he died by suffocation by your thigh’s he die a happy man, so maybe he was giving himself the reward. 

Spencer’s tongue continued explore, it mainly focused on your clit, his fingers were curling up in your, which caused your hips to book. Which made Spencer stop, his chin was already dripping. “You know I love this tattoo” Spencer stated refer to the little teddy bear with S.R. initialled on its paws that sat just above your pubis bone.

He didn’t wait for your response and continued his assault on your clit. Your heart raced as Spencer's tongue and fingers continued their dance, and you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing yourself further into his expert touch. The feeling of his fingers curling inside of you, combined with the skilled attention he was giving to your most sensitive spots, was sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Spencer," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the intensity built within you. You could feel your orgasm rising like a tidal wave, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you would crest over that edge.

Spencer smirked against your skin, his hands never faltering in their movements. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he revelled in the control he had over your pleasure.

You whimpered, needing him to continue, urging him on with your pleas and movements. But he seemingly didn’t care, you wanted to shout at him for stopping but you knew that wouldn’t get you anywhere.

He waited till he knew it had died down enough before starting again. His fingers curled inside of you again, and his tongue swept over your clit with expert precision. The sensations were overwhelming, and you knew that you were close once more.

"Spencer," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the intensity built within you. "Please," you pleaded, needing him to finish what he had started.

“Aww princess, do you want to come?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with desire. You knew he could hear the plea in your voice, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of admitting your need to him.

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. "Please, I need to come.” 

Spencer pulled his fingers out of you; you felt your eyes start to water. He had done this before, but this time it felt mean. “Do you think it’s fair that you get to come first, even though you ran away from me when I caught you?” 

You shook your head at him, you didn’t want to speak as he would be able to hear your voice wobble. Spencer got off the bed and pulled you to sit up as your wrists where still handcuffed behind your back. 

You watched as he stripped himself out of his workout clothes. “Okay, princess. Get on the floor and kneel for me.”  With a deep breath, you nodded and slowly moved to kneel on the floor.

"Good girl," Spencer murmured, approaching you. He gently guided you to move between his legs, positioning yourself so that your face was level with his erection. "Now, open wide for me, princess."

You did as he instructed, opening your mouth obediently. Spencer grinned down at you before guiding himself into your mouth.

You could feel his throbbing member between your lips, and as he moved in and out of your mouth, you could taste the pre-cum that had collected there. Your eyes locked with his as you tenderly ran your tongue over the head of his cock, eliciting a moan from him.

"You're such a good girl," Spencer praised, his voice filled with arousal. "You always know just what to do to make me feel good."

You felt your eyes start to water again; he was basically choking you. Spencer placed his hand on the base of your skull, grabbing a handful of hair as he started to take control, his hips moving against your face.

You struggled to breathe as his grip on your hair tightened, but you didn’t really care about any of that right now. 

Spencer moaned loudly, his hips bucking against your face as he neared his climax. You could feel the tension building in his body, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before he would reach the peak of his pleasure.

"Princess," Spencer groaned, his grip on your hair tightening even more. But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence before you felt him cum down your throat. You looked up to him, and it was a sight to behold really. His lips were slightly parted, his body was glistening with sweat and it truly felt you were worshipping him like this.

You tried to pull away, struggling to breathe as his grip on your hair tightened, but he held you in place, forcing you to endure the sensation until he was satisfied. Finally, he released you, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and dominance. "Good girl," he said again, reaching down to stroke your hair gently. "I think you've learned your lesson."

Spencer helped you stand up, his eyes drifting to your knees he knew they were going to be bruised in the morning. “Now I think I should let you come now, huh princess.” 

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[yearofthesnape]

This is definitely why Snape had to die in Voldemort's eyes. I think there are more things to be said about why it was Nagini, though. (I do like your point about Snape dying, apparently backstabbed by his own people aka Voldemort, while in reality he's the one doing the backstabbing by not telling Voldemort that he isn't the master of the Elder Wand.)

First, from a storytelling perspective: we need Snape to die slowly and horribly so Harry will be transfixed by shock and be compassionate towards Snape, even though he currently hates Snape, because no one should die this way. Then Snape can give him the memories. Being killed by Nagini puts Snape in company with heroes like Arthur Weasley (though Arthur survived) or people like the Muggle man in OotP; it showcases how evil Voldemort is and how unfair the situation is, and it subtly hints that Snape isn't what he seems.

Then, from Voldemort's perspective. Some have suggested that Voldemort chooses this means of death to humble Snape and show who's boss (this post is a compelling example of the argument). I disagree, based on this passage:

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly. He turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. It was time to leave this shack and take charge, with a wand that would now do his full bidding. He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backward glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere. -DH, ch. 32

Here, Voldemort has no reason to say "I regret it" for a larger audience than himself and Snape, as he doesn't believe anyone else is there. He has never before expressed regret, but in this conversation he has done so twice. Earlier, he said to Snape:

You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.

It is possible to read these instances as taunting, but Harry is in Voldemort's mind throughout the encounter, and he records rage and coldness and businesslike purpose, but no glee or enjoyment, none of the "cruel satisfaction" Voldemort takes in causing Wormtail's pain in GoF or the amusement he takes in the Potters' attempts to hold him off in the flashback of DH ch. 18. Due to the Horcrux connection, Harry's experience of Voldemort's immediate motives and emotions in such scenes can be generally taken to be reliable. In the current scene, then, we can assume Voldemort is in work mode, with no time for fun and games.

I think Voldemort's "regret" is genuine, the regret one feels at having to throw away a useful tool — not a regret compatible with sadness or remorse for a person, but regret nonetheless. Even when left entirely alone before killing Snape, as if to reassure himself, he says, "It is the only way, Nagini." He is angry at being thwarted, but in his pages-long explanation to Snape as to why Snape must die, there is no hint of treating Snape as anything but loyal, and we know Voldemort likes to remind his Death Eaters of the smallest disloyalty and would surely have said something about Snape presuming too much, or Snape offending him in some way, if he had thought anything like that to be the case. (As we recall, he thinks they're alone here.)

The conclusion, then, is that Voldemort thinks Snape must die by Nagini out of practical motives. Voldemort has good practical reason not to use a wand here; he's attempting the highly ritualistic action of mastering the Elder Wand by killing Snape, and wands keep backfiring for him in ritual settings. (The Avada Kedavra didn't work to kill baby Harry in preparation for a Horcrux, and then there was all the weirdness from the twin cores when he last revived.) However, Nagini has worked in a ritual setting; she killed the Muggle that made Voldemort's last Horcrux. Thus, the most foolproof thing to do is to use the ritual killing weapon that works, rather than using the faulty one or finding a new one. (Plus, he's performing a ritual having to do with wands, and getting a second wand tangled up with it might confuse something somehow, given the complexities of wandlore.)

Snapedom!

Anyone having meta or ideas on why Severus had specifically been killed by a snake? Why would Voldemort, despite admitting that Severus had been a loyal servant to him and showing no signs of suspicion in his loyalty, decide to kill him in such a cruel way? And why Nagini, of all snakes?

Thanks in advance for input!

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

mmmmmMMMMMMM

[doodledrawsthings]

Do you plan on there actually being a story for soss

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe, most likely a comic.

[custom-whats]

This is an entirely unrelated thing, but i had an idea for a “custom” follower forever ago that, if you’d like to hear, i’ve put below! warning: its fucking long and i dont have the time nor energy to make it real beyond thinking it out.

To begin with a few precursor things: i enjoy asshole characters, as we dont often see them as followers and they flesh out the world of the game in a nice way, and i enjoy characters that are relevant to specific plots within the game. If there are personal stakes involved, like serana with her story, it makes it all the more satisfying to look for dialogue and go through to the end of the quest with them.

And i’m also DEEPLY mentally ill about three things: castle Volkihar, moral ambiguity, and a guy named ronthil.

If you’ve never heard of him, i don’t blame you: he’s a vampire bosmer within clan Volkihar that does nothing but serve as a merchant and a speech trainer. His wiki is super fucking small and the unique thing about him is that he’s treated worse than dirt within the clan, making him sleep behind a bookshelf iirc. He’s constantly staying on the good behavior to not get kicked out and making himself available to tasks. ur standard pathetic meow meow, so of course i like him.

Anyway my proposal was to turn Ronthil into a “Serana dialogue add on” styled mod that changed some of his core motivations, re-contextualizing his people pleasing personality, offering players an additional perspective into clan volkihar’s inner workings, provide players who were already vampires a different start to dawnguard (because a vampire hunter approaching a vampire and said vampire going to the vampire hunter’s lair is suicidal stupidity at best), and finally provide a moderate voice for why somebody might wanna be a vampire and stay that way.

so the proposed changes start like this: Whether or not you’re a vampire, you’ll sometimes see a man wandering about at night along the roads. If you’re a human, he basically doesn’t interact with you.

If you’re a vampire, he makes the suggestion that something of value to the both of you has come to his attention recently, and if you were to help him he’d be more than generous with the earnings. Obviously this is an equivalent exchange, as he is considerably ill equipped to take on anything nasty, so you’ll have to do a lot of the heavy lifting as far as fighting goes. If you agree, he leads you straight to Dimhollow crypt and the quest follows as normal. You return Serana home and are given the typical reward offer.

Assuming you accept, you’re given the standard speech and told to get your ass going to redwater den. If you speak to him after (you’ll find him loitering about) he’ll offer to accompany you, off the record of course, if you require him. He will then be available as a follower from that point on

If you’re wondering why a Volkihar vampire is being so charming and so helpful for no good reason, he’s not being; the truth of it is that he’s an intense social climber. He sees that Harkon favors you for the return of his daughter and you’ve already shown off your combat prowess at dimhollow, now with the added bonus that you’ve been given the power of a Vampire Lord. He suspects that rubbing elbows with you in a positive capacity will prove beneficial to him rising up that clan ladder down the line. Though, to be fair, he doesn’t at all suspect that it all leads to Harkon’s death, and you & serana effectively becoming the most powerful ppl at court.

 Still, that’s really all the better for him so long as he can prove useful enough to you to be given a higher position, or at least treated with more dignity.

Ronthil in this version is basically faking all of his niceties, and underneath it all is a calculating little bastard. He wants power and status, typical vampire desires, but wants them for the protection and strength they provide, not necessarily to squash people beneath him (though he’d be tempted were the mood to strike him. I mean, he IS a vampire.) His climb to the position he’s in now, lowly as it is and even with how he’s treated, is still something he fought tooth and nail for, so he’s not willing to risk himself being stupid unless he thinks there’s something better in it for him to be that way.

aaaand i just ran out of creative juice, so thats the general idea i’d cooked up. if you read this far, congrats and also wow i sure hope you like vampires lol.

[steampoweredskeleton]

Screams

[waterfallofspace]

Hey I have a fic question! Any Trigun stuff in the works 👀

Hello!!~

oooohhh, good question :3

there's a lil drabble from the 'spring prompts' list (I know, I know, it's summer now 😭😭 I'm so bad at completing things fast with so much going on irl lately and the writing braincell taking a loooong vacation~) but otherwise, I still have a few ideas here and there stashed away in some google docs, but nothing currently seeing the light of day~

this is a good little reminder to go check that though! see if there's anything there the inspiration is hitting on~ aaaaand a reminder to work on that drabble a bit more, get that out so if anyone wants it they can enjoy a lil T/rigun morsel!~

thanks for the ask lovely!!~ hopefully this answer isn't too disappointing 💗💗

[wormshirt]

Wish more people engaged with fnaf media as actual horror media. Yes this includes the people making the games.

[thatfizzyyyy]

🧍🏾‍♀️

[raeniskaies]

how to have motivation to workout ♡

you're reading this blog to stop procrastinating whenever you want to workout , or just get back on track in general. you are not alone as many others go through it too , but here I'll give you tips to avoid procrastination.

our plan : :

001 , push through

- in my eyes , procrastination is not a curse that randomly shows up in your life or something that pops up and runs away , it is something you bring up on yourself. let me explain it this way : :

imagine you are Sabrina , you love hanging out with your friends and playing with them. You stretch and study and read books in the morning everyday. One day , your best friend wakes you up early to go somewhere , meaning you forget to do your productive routine that day. Soon , one day of missing out of your productive deeds turns into a destructive habit. Eventually , you miss out on your routine and feel a sudden dread whenever you want to. That is procrastination.

It's okay to play with friends or watch a movie but don't let that get caught up in your life ! your routine should be like a ritual that you practise everyday , no matter the circumstances ! starting to do something once a day can slowly lead up to a repetitive habit whether that is lounging or being productive ! procrastination is just a re - embodiment of your actions.

002 , plan it all out

- don't workout or stretch or practise pilates by waking up and doing it at any time of day , depending on your mood. creating a repetitive habit means you need to do it at the same time of day for a scheduled time period. make sure to plan rest days to prevent burnouts !

003 , rest

- make sure to rest at least once a week to prevent burning out. remember that your muscles need to rest !!

004 , romanticize it

- romanticize moving your body to make it enjoyable ! listen to music , wear comfortable clothes , cute accessories , add candles - anything to make working out fun !

005 , find great workout channels // excercises

- find great workouts that aren't too // not intense enough for you ! find ones that work and are not just popular on tiktok !

♡ I extremely recommend hinafit for pilates , stretches and workouts !!

thank you for reading !

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[leiatalon]

If you enjoy art, be kind to artists. 💞

Artists pour themselves into their work.

Whether it's writing, visual art, music, or any other artistic expression, when art is shared you're seeing a piece of someone's soul.

Please, be respectful. Be kind.

Constructive criticism is helpful if the intent is genuine improvement and it is delivered with compassion, but when people come from a place of entitlement or use cruel words it can discourage artists to the point where they stop sharing their art.

Please don't be that person.

If you put pressure on people, it's counterproductive. Yes, you might be feeling impatient to get an update on a game because you want more of it. You might have ideas that you think will make the story better.

But remember, you're not the artist.

Writers must write what they want or the creative process becomes a burden. We must stick to our vision or the story might not be completed.

We never know what's going on in someone's personal life.

PLEASE BE KIND.

This is not directed at my own readers because all of you have been lovely to me and I appreciate that so much!

However, I have several friends who are feeling discouraged because of comments made by fans who are coming across as impatient and less than compassionate.

My recommendation if you find this happening to you is to take a deep breath. Touch grass. Go outside. And, perhaps more than anything:

Create your own art.

Writing is hard. Writing IF games is even harder. If you've never tried it, you don't have that perspective.

If you enjoy interactive fiction, or painting, or music, or any other creative pursuit and are finding judgmental thoughts creeping into your head about an artist's work, try making your own. You might enjoy it! You might not. Either way, you'll gain valuable insight into a process which is increasingly complicated as a story goes on.

Art helps us express ourselves. It adds beauty to the world. As people who enjoy art, we can amplify that beauty by the way we respond to it.

If we approach art from a place of appreciation and gratitude, not only do we get more enjoyment from it but we can provide support to the artists who create it, and thus help them feel empowered to share more art with us.

Kindness. Patience. Gratitude. Respect.

This is the kind of nourishment artists need from their fans, and the kind of motivation that helps us create in optimal ways.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 💞

[deathbxnny]

May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.

Please and thank you

Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi

Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.

Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.

You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.

Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.

Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.

》SEVIKA

She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.

Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.

Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.

When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.

》VANDER

Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.

Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.

He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.

He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.

Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.

》VI

Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!

Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.

Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.

You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.

Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[impactedfates]

heyy 😁 so um like I was hoping you could do like a combination of hsr men and genshin men, the reader is their lover who sits on their lap just to pass the time (the men are up to u pls pls include wriothesley and neuvillette if u can 😳😍 tys 💖)

★ A/N: Yep, I don't at all mind doing combinations of both fandoms

☆ Genre/Trope: Romantic

★ Format: Mini Scenarios (Characters Included (Separate): Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Jing Yuan and Blade)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Wrio + Neuvi might be OOC // Short-ish // Reader is shorter then characters included // Reader is NOT the traveler

The first time you do it, Wriothesley is surprised. Don't get him wrong he doesn't mind having you this close he just didn't expect it is all. He at first isn't too sure what to do in this situation, he still has work to do but you're there on his lap, is he meant to drop his work and give you attention and that was your way of telling him? Are you doing this just because and he can still work??

When he does finally get used to it, I see him continuing with his work, using one hand to write, sign and pick up/put down papers while the other hand is wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he calmly scribbles down whatever's he's meant to.

If you're really desperate for attention though and aren't just sitting on his lap just because he might indulge and pepper your face with kisses, however this is only if he doesn't have too much important work to do, if he does he'll just chuckle and tell you to be a bit more patient.

Neuvillette didn't understand the concept of it at all when you first did it. Sure he knew humans had different ways of showing their love or just different things they do with their partner in general but he didn't expect one of things you like doing is sitting on his lap.

He's often working so he likely marks this as a way for you to be closer to him even in silence, and in a way it motivates him to finish a bit quickly so he can give you the attention you deserve.

Overall, although he may not fully understand what you're doing just knows this seems to be something you enjoy doing with him, and if it makes you happy then he's happy. Just as long as you wait until he's finished work before giving you any attention you may want.

Zhongli also is still learning more about humans but perhaps is more knowledgeable than Neuvillete is. He doesn't say anything when you do it for the first time however he will question you if you continue to do it, wanting to know why you seem to find enjoyment from merely situating yourself on his lap.

When you see you just like it because it passes the time or any other reason, he'll simply chuckle. If you were to ask if he's annoyed by it he'll shake his head no, he simply wanted to see why you enjoyed it so much, after that he'll invite you to sit on his lap a lot more, however more so in private.

Maybe if he's reading a book and sees you coming into the room, he'll gesture you to come towards him and pat his lap with a smile, if you enjoy it so much he'll indulge for as long as you like.

Jing Yuan practically INVITES you to sit on his lap once you did it the first time. Once he knows you like spending your time on it then anytime you're around and he's sitting, he'll tug you over just to take a seat.

He loves having you close to him, his work can wait and he can handle Fu Xuans scolding for the nth time that day, you're way more important to him then any work he has due...however he does eventually need to get it done, but he'll happily do it with you still on his lap if you don't want to get off.

HOWEVER, this will come at a price. Yes, he himself also enjoys having you in his lap BUT he'll also like using YOUR lap as a pillow. So if you want to continue using his lap as a seat, be prepared to have your lap being used as a pillow.

I feel like Blade full on pushes you off the first time you do it. Don't get him wrong, he does feel bad for probably hurting you but he's not much of a touchy guy. Especially if you two were still fresh into the relationship.

He'd much prefer you ask beforehand. Most of the time he'll say no as I see him as someone who needs something to do the majority of the day and he cannot allow himself to relax.

However once he gets more comfortable into the relationship then he might finally agree to let yourself rest on his lap. It might be awkward for the both of you as Blade isn't making any attempts to hold you, his hands at his side but the more comfortable he gets the more relaxed he lets himself become and soon enough Kafka or Silverwolf may find him holding you close.

Hopefully this isn't too messy!! This has been sitting in my drafts as I struggle to find the time to continue writing it sorgipget.

The next post should be a Christmas Special of sorts :> (Hopefully)