#NO ONE CAN TELL YOU ANYTHING BC YOUR ANGER AND EMOTIONS ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S RESPONSIBILITY!!!

[britneyshakespeare]

You know. Sorry for another sporadic unprompted post about that friend who has caused me so much trauma in the past year. But I remember this one time his old high school friend I met once, he's really nice I liked him a lot. Cool guy. But he lives far away so they don't meet up a lot but they text. One time he sent this friend some pictures of us that were taken at a cooking class that he'd been bothering me into going to despite that it was all the way in Boston, there was a lot of walking to get to it, etc. And I was like constantly feeling sick and run down and exhausted from having Covid recently. He texted his friends those pictures of the two of us and his friend asked "Are you and Diana dating lol" like pretty innocently but honestly curious.

And he just replied "Are you fucking high" and he showed me and told me about it. Like. Like it was uncomfortable for HIM to be asked that.

Like his response isn't SUPER INSULTING TO ME.

[sulfies]

In your heavy bleeding au, does Desmond remember his bleeds or does he just black out during the whole process? Also, does he have certain triggers?

Love all your au stuff btw owo

Im glad my au is infecting everyones brain muhahaha

to answer, when I draw Desmond with yellow eyes and fainting like a damsel I think in my head its one fo 2 things:

1) he is having such a heavy bleed(hehe pun) his body shuts down and all he can do is to live thru the bleed basically, he would not be able to tell its a bleed even if someone told him it was one(they cant tho since he is stuck in the bleed in his head) so he just has to ride it out. It probobly disorients him quiet a bit once he gets out of it for hrs maybe in some cases days.

2) he is having visions from apple and its such heavy knowledge his human brain kinda goes overheat mode.

In the end you can determine yourself (since its an au nothing is set in stone lol) if he remembers or not but for myself:

I think on 1)

he doesnt remember all details, after he is out of the episode he probobly remembers who the bleed was about and some context but not all, but some stuff lingers for few hours sometimes days as mentioned. maybe he finds hard to switch to the language he uses the most or his emotions carry over, like if it was about altair right after he lost his ranks, he feels some petty anger towards Malik he cannot explain but he can figure out it was cocky-altair memories probobly due to context clues. They are probobly like dreams(or nightmares) in a sense where the more he tries to remember the more he forgets about details…

for 2)

He is just not that smart enough (sorry Des ur no Altaïr…)to explain what the apple showed him but he probobly does remember in a sense; if its things like a remedy, a basic invention or instructions that he can learn from a yt video normally he can muscle memory to make em. its more like “how tf did u do that” “uhhh i have no idea” withing a limit lol so he cannot invent phones bc he probobly cant even make a phone in modern day

——————

for his other heavy bleeds where he is not passed out with eyes all gold I think some of the same rules as 1) apply where he doesnt know he is in a bleed, especially if he is bleeding as someone bc at that moment he thinks he is that person, but someone could snap him out of it if they tried (usually if he is bleeding ezio and actual ezio shows up he can make Des snap out of it but its not foolproof) and afterwards he probobly remembers most of it (to his horror) bc he did actively and physically live thru it. Like w the fic where he thinks there are guards after him but its a bleed, after he learns it is he still remembers them and sees them

but again I think the fun part is u can kinda make Des suffer in anyway you want (again…sorry Des…)so no rules are set in stone, so if you dont want him to remember anything after bleeds you are free to do so and ill probobly break these guides aswell lol

————-

for triggers hmm i think anything you want could be a trigger lol but it doesnt have to be “triggered” to happen. I think like that other fic when he first time-travels and lands in Italy or Levant he would most likely have a bleed where he thinks he is someone else sooner or later bc the enviroment shocks him and confuses him (as time travel does) so something that “shocks” him can send him into an episode but he could also be totally fine in another scenerio

in my hc w the fainting ones, they are similar to seizures w how they come and go (I do not get seizures so my research is very limited) so sometimes he can guess it will happen few seconds to min before but he cannot stop them and sometimes it just gets him by suprise, for the ones where he doesnt faint he again has no idea when it will happen and most likely cannot tell it will, those ones are probobly more affected by “triggers” but they dont have to be as I said above

ty for askingg sorry to give an essay as response lol

[eatanorange]

The Commodification of Friendship

I've seen it. You've seen it. This post is not in reaction to that post so aptly and beautifully put by tumblr user vikingfunerals. I am reacting to the person I know well who reposted it to an instagram story. A partner, a friend, a situationship, whatever they want to call themself in relation to me and the way we care for eachother. I'd call them my partner but thats besides the point, too, rather it explains the level of my emotional response.

Never have I been more irate to see a post I agree with wholeheartedly. Again, I'm yelling at someone in my personal life, but in a safe expression of anger way bc they don't know I have this account, and not op.

This is a letter to them through an anonymous blog to the void so that I can stay true to myself and a boundary I recently drew with them due to their insistence that I tell them what I need, what they can do for me, and the moment I did they push it off, push me off to the boundaries of their life, because they're too busy burning themself out for everyone else to have time to let this be good.

to let something (our curated relationship) be good, be for them, as much as it is for me, with plenty of reciprocity but no transactional nature. Because god forbid I want to fulfill their needs, too.

how dare you post something about the commodification of friendship and the duty we have to be there for each other, and then refuse to let anyone do that for you.

As if all the people you 'need' to please somehow made you forget along the way that you're a person too. One with *gasp* needs. How dare you post this as a scapegoat for developing boundaries. Even atlas needed a spine to hold up the sky.

that post, coming from you? A diluted take from an emotionally dehydrated person, whose ash remnants of personality grate the healthy lungs and sting the eyes of those who care for you. You won't see me expecting a spark from a lighter with no fluid left.

the post in question:

now imagine you're me, reading that posted by someone who doesn't ask for anything. who consistently exhibits signs of burnout, who is pessimistic to a point that they are unable to tell me what works for them, the only phrasings they know are to point out what is 'wrong' or not working. Who is a friend to me, no questions asked, but doesn't let me be their friend back because of their insistence that that would make it commodification. Imagine how frustrating it is to be cared for by someone, to let them show that care, and then when you try you're met with "there's nothing anyone can do". I'd imagine op doesn't want you to endlessly prioritize your DIScomfort too. Fool (/loving anger, rage of afab ancestors, etc).

You believe this post? You want to embody this? Ask for help/support then. I dare you. Double dare. Believe that I actually would at the drop of a hat. Because you're my friend. Because I love you. Because you're a human being who innately deserves to be taken care of, too. That's the point of the goddamn post. Fuck you.

[rnebbie]

Graduation (request)

Ryan Reynolds x teen! Reader, Ryan Reynolds x costar! Reader

Requested by: anonymous

Request description: heyy if requests are open could i request one with ryan reynolds x teen!reader? where the reader is upset that her dad isnt coming to her high school graduation (shitty fathers, am i right) and she thinks ryan cant make it because of some event, but he shows up and it gets emotional? reader can be a co-star on one of his movies, maybe a recent one like free guy :) thanks babe!

Warnings: parental issues, swearing, outbursts of anger, anxiety & insecurity

(A/n:) !!! Didn’t proofread bc I’m rushing. Anyways: Haven’t graduated high school yet or even seen a graduation take place besides in the amazing Spider-Man 2 so that’s the experience I’m going off of lol. Sorry if ryan’s out of character this is my first time writing for him. Criticism is welcomed & encouraged and lmk if u want to be added to my taglist

Dads not coming. Sorry baby :(

Your eyes narrow as you read your mother’s text over and over again as if there’s anything hard to understand about it. But honestly, it’s a common occurrence for your father to just drop out of rather important events.

You thought he might make an effort to be there for you this one time. On your very special day; the day you graduate high school. But you feel dumb for even considering that in the first place. You know it was never on his radar.

Sighing, you shut your phone off and toss it on the couch next to you, before rubbing your temples. You try to ease the anger you’re feeling before it manifests into something it doesn’t need to be. You didn’t get much from your father. Not time, love, attention, energy. But you did get his anger issues. And that’s why you have to calm yourself down.

You take a deep breath before reaching for your phone, you and your mothers text conversation being the first thing you see. You write out a long rant, your thumbs slamming against your phone's keyboard and your breath hitching every few seconds when you think of a new way to complain about your father.

But before you send it, you remember, it’s just your mother. She’s not responsible for your fathers actions and it’s unfair to take out your hurt feelings on her.

You delete the rant and replace it with

its ok. i love u ill see u soon

You stare at your texts before shutting your phone off. It doesn’t matter, you think. It doesn’t ever matter. Your feelings or accomplishments don’t ever matter to your father, and how foolish of you to believe they did even for an hour. An hour out of his afternoon for one day would be all he had to do to make it up to you. To make up for all the abandonment. But he can’t even do that.

You just grab a jacket and walk out of your trailer.

You and the cast were all planning to go out to lunch together, because no one had any other plans. But while you were walking towards the exit of the set, you only saw Ryan standing there.

“Everyone else somehow became too busy for us, so it’s just gonna be you and me.” Ryan said as you approached him within earshot. You bite your lip, you thought if you had gone with a bigger group it would’ve been easier to stay quiet and just bask in everyone else’s lives. But now that it’s just you and Ryan, it’s gonna be harder for you to pretend that nothings bothering you.

“That’s fine.” You reply, putting your hands in your jacket pockets.

Ryan makes a slightly confused face at your lack of character at the moment, but doesn’t seem to dwell on it. “Where do you wanna go?” He asks you, you shrug.

“Anywhere is fine.”

That’s it? No options, no suggestions, not even any funny or attempts-to-be-funny comments. Ryan can already tell something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You attempt to smile and not, telling him you're fine, and you’re just hungry.

He decides on some place that recently opened near the set. You plan on ordering quickly, getting in and out, with as minimal talking as possible. But Ryan had different plans.

Once you two are seated you immediately open the menu and stare at it blankly. Ryan hasn’t opened his menu yet, but instead stares at you. “What’s up with you today?” He presses. You didn’t even realize he was paying attention to you so you don’t understand.

You make a confused face at him and shrug, “nothings wrong. What are you talking about?” You say. You can tell you’re acting like a typical teenager in a tv show but you can’t help it. It’s your current defense mechanism. Maybe you could get him to think it’s just your period or something.

“Yeah, okay. Well you’ve spoken fifteen words in the past thirty minutes which is a slight downgrade from your usual fifteen words a second, on a good day. So I’m not buying it.” He replies to your defense. You roll your eyes and look away. You feel like being really mean, because you’re just really upset. But you know that’s only going to continue the cycle.

“Nothings wrong, dude. I’m just tired and hungry. I need food.” You lie. You’re not a good liar, which is ironic because you’re an actor. You’d think actors are good liars, but not you. You’re only good at lying if it’s while the camera is rolling.

Ryan hums in response before picking the menu up and finally looking at it. You eye him, searching for any hesitation, before you do the same.

Shortly after, the waitress takes your order. You order something light and Ryan does the opposite. You ignore the urge to roll your eyes and curse him out.

After the waitress leaves, Ryan stares at you.

“Are you judging me?” He smiles, visibly messing with you. But you’re not in a jokey mood right now. “What?” You angrily reply.

“Because I ordered two sides. You’re totally silently judging me. Sorry I’m not as healthy and fit as you.” He continues with the stupid smile on his face, probably thinking he’d the funniest person alive.

“I literally didn’t even hear what you ordered.” You reply after being silent for a long couple of seconds trying to figure out how to answer him.

“Why? Because something’s bothering you?” He presses, looking slightly more serious. You roll your eyes. “Can you stop?” You simply reply.

“Can you talk to me? What’s the big deal?” He asks.

“Ryan, if I wanted to tell you I would.”

“So you’re admitting there's a problem.” He replies.

“I can deal with my emotions on my own!”

“We talk about every little thing, so it must be something big and important.” He theorizes.

“It’s nothing. Alright? Can you just stop please?” You beg, rubbing your forehead.

“You’re in a bad mood anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” He replies to your plea.

You whisper an annoyance under your breath and try to tune him out, grabbing your phone out of your pocket and starting to tap your passcode in before Ryan reaches over and grabs it out of your hand.

“Dude, what the fuck? You can’t just take my stuff, you’re not my father.” You start raising your voice at him, not really caring if you’re making a scene, because the anger you feel is going to come out at one point or another.

Ryan acts taken aback and offended, “I never said I was. I’m just worried about you.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Well it’s not your job, ryan. It’s fine. You don’t need to hear it.” Your eyes start feeling all watery and you look down to avoid crying, something you often do and Ryan notices.

He reaches over to put his hand over yours but you flinch away and cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s not a matter of it being my job or not, y/n. I just care about you, the way any friend would.” He says.

You sigh and use your sleeves to dry your eyes that only slightly got wet. “My dad isn’t coming to my graduation.” You sniffle.

You wouldn’t be able to see, because you’re looking down. But Ryan frowns. You often complain about your dad to him and he feels for you. He wished he could make it better for you.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, y/n. What day is it?” He asks.

“It’s this coming Sunday. It’s fine.” You shake your head.

“He should care enough to be there. This is important.” Ryan sympathizes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you, y/n.” He says.

You press your lips together. “Thanks.” A tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it with your sleeve.

…

Sunday morning your stomach feels all upside down. You can’t believe high school is already over. Honestly you could wake up this morning and believe that you were still a confused freshman getting ready for school on Monday, but it’s all over now.

You’d kept in touch with your mom, she coaxed you through all of your anxiety. But you haven't heard a single word from your dad. You fought the urge to text him and just say “hi”. You didn’t because you grew angrier with every day you didn’t hear from him.

Ryan and the rest of the cast & crew you worked with kept reminding you of how proud of you they were and how excited they were for you. You invited them all in bulk a day or two after your talk with ryan. Some of them said yes, some said no, and after everyone fizzled out you walked over to ryan.

“Do you think you can make it?” You ask anxiously, looking at your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize but I have a really important meeting that day. I can't miss it. I’m sorry, y/n. But I’ve already asked your mom to send me pictures!” He says to your dismay.

You immediately frown but try to cover it with a fake smile. “No worries.” You assure him. And usually you’d stay to chat more with him, but you immediately turn on your heel and walk away from him. Because you cannot stop the tears from falling once you realize you’ve now not only been rejected by one of your father figures, but now both.

You feel uncomfortable in your cap and gown. Out of place. You’d seen your fellow high school students graduate each year previously, and it feels surreal that it’s your turn now.

You sit in the crowd with your graduating class and try to keep your head straight. Not looking around or drawing any attention to yourself, since you already feel insecure enough.

You tune out almost all of the ceremony. The speeches and the stuff you should be caring about, but you’re too busy thinking about what went wrong in your childhood to get you to this point, where not even your own father gives a shit about your life?

You try to tell yourself that’s something to think about another time, but it’s difficult to just shake the feeling.

All too quickly they call your name, and your eyes widen before you jump up to receive your diploma. Once you're on the stage you look out to the crowd to try to meet your mothers eyes, and instead you see ryan.

You smile at him and wave, and he does the same. You’re shocked and you feel relieved and cared about. You feel like a pressure has just been lifted off your chest.

You don’t realize how caught up in the moment you are until you hear other people’s names being called. You snap back into reality and run off stage.

The rest of the ceremony is nothing. And after it’s over you run over to your mother and give her a massive hug. You thank her over and over again because you know you couldn’t have made it through high school without her. As you’re excitedly rambling to her about how you can’t believe you made it through high school, someone taps on your shoulder.

You turn around and see Ryan smiling.

You immediately throw your arms around him and your face collides into his warm shirt. He hesitates slightly before hugging you back. “Woah, I thought you weren’t a hugger!” He said, which isn’t wrong.

“Today I am.” You say, slightly muffled into his shirt.

Once you pull away from the hug you look at him, “I thought you couldn’t come!” You said.

Ryan shrugs, “I skipped the meeting. You’re much more important.” He says as if it’s nothing.

You stare at him for barely a second, before you burst out bawling.

Thank God everyone around you is too caught up in their own family, because otherwise that would’ve been a lot more embarrassing.

Ryan’s mouth drops open before he reaches over to hug you again. “Hey hey, what’s wrong?” He says, rubbing circles in your back.

You sob into his shirt, feeling bad because it’s already getting wet. “N-nothings wrong.” You hiccup as you continue crying.

You can’t see his face but if you could you’d see the confusion.

He lets you continue to cry for a couple dozen seconds before you answer again, still hugging him. “Thank you for caring about me that much.” You say, and sniffle as you try to stop your tears.

He pulls away, and puts his hands on your shoulders, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. “I love you, y/n. Okay? This is nothing compared to what you deserve. Just because other people get too caught up in their own lives, doesn’t mean you matter any less.”

You let out a sob again, this time out of sadness as you think about what your father could be doing.

Ryan initiates the hug for the second time, but he just kinda stands there hugging your head as you sob into his shirt with your arms down. “I’m so proud of you, y/n. You should be proud too.”

You’re not valedictorian or anything, but you are important to Ryan Reynolds. And that’s more than enough for you.

…

Taglist: @ohworm-writes @spidyyparker (lmk if u wanna be added)

[infinitefandomimagines]

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

-

REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

-

"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

-

TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter  

[mythiccheroacademia]

What You Fight About

part 2

A/N: just something I thought about

Headcanon: what you two would fight about the most

Warnings: toxic behaviors, yelling, cursing, angst

Midoriya Izuku:

his absence

being the number one hero is demanding

it’s also been his dream since he could remember

you understood that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate you when he’d disappear for days at a time

izuku tries to balance his job and home life

but it isn't enough

~~~

You and Izuku don’t fight much. In fact, you never really do. You’re both so compromising that disagreements rarely happen.

But when your kid is involved, that complacency slips away. Even when it comes to one another.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Honey, why won’t you just listen to me?” he begged, but the irritation in his tone gave it more sharpness than he intended. “[S/N] doesn’t need the tutor. It’s just the teacher.”

You began to pick up the leftover toys from floor more so to expel pent up energy rather than to simply clean. You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” Midoriya snipped. His eyes followed you as you discarded the toys and crossed your arms beside the couch, finally giving him your attention. “I think I know my own son, Y/N.”

Izuku cared so much for your child and you knew that. But that underlying message your brain processed within his words pissed you off.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I just don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

An incredulous laugh left your lips before they moved into a frown. “He’s failing 4th grade, Izuku. We can’t move him to a different classroom every time he gets a bad grade. At some point, we have to take responsibility! He needs the extra help!”

“You just don’t understand,” the hero muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What he said shouldn’t have set you off, but it did. Everything suddenly flooded your head. All the stress you had to deal with alone bubbled up your throat and exploded.

“No, you don’t understand!”

“Yes I do!”

“How!? You’re barely in his fucking life anyways!”

It went silent shortly after that.

The outburst felt good, but the aftermath made your squeeze with guilt. Izuku’s frown softened into shock before melting into something deeper than pain.

Once your words finally processed through your head, you immediately tried to take it back.

“Izuku, I didn’t mean that—”

“Yes you did.”

You thickly swallowed and averted your eyes to the floor. He was right. You did. You’d been wanting to say it for so long, but this wasn’t the way you planned to deliver those thoughts.

Your gaze moved back to your husband once he gathered his duffle bag and slid on his shoes.

“Baby,” you sighed, your voice much softer than before. It was almost insane how easily the anger left you. “Where are you going?”

You wilted with his next words. “I’ll stay over at the agency. To give you some space. We’ll talk more after we’ve both cooled down,” he sadly smiled.

Despite the hurt silver-lining his green eyes, Midoriya softly held your chin and kissed your forehead. Something he always did when your disagreements didn’t end on a good note. As if to reassure you that, even though he was upset, he still loved you all the same.

And that just made you feel worse.

“’Zuku—”

“Don’t worry about [S/N]. I’ll take him to school tomorrow.” He paused to look you in your eyes. “I love you, always.”

“I love you too,” you quietly resigned and watched him disappear behind the front door leaving you to let your head fall into your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki

his jealousy

bakugo is confident in many areas of his life

it’s one of his qualities that won you over

but he still had those tiny insecurities that showed up in large ways

aka losing you

and he had no idea how to handle it

~~~

The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea considering Bakugo was already noticeably pissed on the way to the house party. But everyone assumed it was just another one of his moods he’d get over sooner or later. He wasn’t a drinker, but a beer or two usually loosened him up.

However, your friends looked at each other with worry behind the door to the room you two were in. Despite the party lights and booming stereo, they could hear the angry muffled yelling you two were doing.

You were 100% drunk, but you were 110% sure this man was telling you to stay away from your friend. Your best friend.

“If it’s one thing you have, it’s the audacity,” you sassily quipped.

“I’m not fucking playing around with you, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped with too much bite than you cared to hear. “I want you to stay away from that two-bagged eyed bastard!”

“You always do this! Shinsou’s my friend!”

The redness in his ears wasn’t only from the drinks as his nostrils flared with barely contained irritation. “Friend my ass. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, and that fucker had the nerve to grab you in front of me!”

“He was moving me out of the way!”

“He fucking felt you up is what he did!”

You smacked your teeth, entirely done with the argument. You weren’t getting anywhere. “Now you’re just being delusional.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out in a desperate attempt to calm himself. A feat even he was surprised about considering the situation. He tried so hard to not be as explosive, to reign in his emotions, for you. But his jealousy burned hot within his veins.

“Y/N. I’m asking you, as your man, to put some distance between you and Shinsou,” he lowly warned.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Like hell I will. Hitoshi’s been here longer than you have by years. I’m not gonna drop him just because you feel insecure.”

That withered away any form of self-restraint Katsuki had left. He felt exposed and hurt. And dealt with that the best way he knew how.

His hazy brain clouded over with anger and he went on the defensive.

“I bet you want him.”

“What? No I don’t?”

“You’re probably sleeping with him behind my fucking back,” he dryly laughed. “Am I not good enough anymore? Is that it?”

You were quickly sobering up. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Of course not! I’m not a cheater!”

“Then why won’t cut him off, damn it!?”

Your voices rose in volumes too high for comfort. The crackle in his palms didn’t scare you one bit, but it was enough for Kirishima and Mina to come in and try to separate you two.

You ignored their pleading and the two of your found each other in the other’s face.

“Why are you so jealous!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!”

“NO HE’S NOT!

“IT’S SO EASY FOR YOU TO DEFEND HIM AND PROBABLY JUST AS EASY FOR YOU TO SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS—"

A resounding slap cut him short. That seemed to snap him out of whatever alcohol induced rage he was in. However, Bakugo only had a moment to register your expression of disgust before Kirishima pulled him away.

“Fuck you, asshole” was the last thing you said before Mina lead into the hallway.

Kirishima watched his friend’s breathing turn ragged with each puff.

“Come on, man. Let’s just—”

“FUCK!” Katsuki roared before throwing a nearby water bottle to the floor. He fisted his hair and clenched his teeth.

He messed up. Big time.

And as upset as he was with himself, he couldn’t help but be even angrier at the thought of who you’d run to first.

Todoroki Shouto:

how blunt he is

he was a bit socially inept and you loved him for that

but sometimes, you get frustrated

todoroki does too because 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t understand why

when you get angry, he completely shuts down bc he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way

and it didn’t help that he was petty asf

~~~

“Okay.”

You looked up and folded your lips in a tight line. It was the same monotone answer he’d been giving you all day and it was getting on your nerves.

“Sho, baby, can you at least try and act like you somewhat care about this vacation we’re planning,” you said as sweetly as possible.

Although you were annoyed, you understood that things flew over your boyfriend’s head sometimes and, hopefully, a little nudge would point him in the right direction.

“I’m listening, prince(ss),” he dimly responded.

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was reading at the table and it made you huff. Folding up the magazine, you just stalked your way out of the kitchen.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll do it myself.”

That made Shouto look up. His brows furrowed in confusion and he caught your hand before you could completely pass by him. Why were you suddenly upset? He told you he was listening.  

“Hey, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked.

You let him pull you in between his legs. He looked genuinely lost and it was enough to soften your exterior.

“I just feel like you don’t care sometimes,” you said, deciding to just be blunt.

“Huh?” he hummed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…it just seems like you don’t have an interest in anything I have to say if it doesn’t involve hero work, your family, or something like that.”

Todoroki took offense to that. Of course he cared about what you had to say. He loved you. Just because he wasn’t gripping on to every word you spoke in mundane life didn’t mean he didn’t care.

There were ways to express his thoughts, but Shouto wasn’t always the best at gently doing it.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” he said.

You looked off to the side for a second before looking down at him. “Well that’s how I feel,” you retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong.”

You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. However, he just stared back at you as if there was nothing else left to say. The silence was sickening.

You snatched your hand out his grip. “Okay, Shouto,” you bit and left.

He hadn’t heard his first name in a while.

Your boyfriend dumbly blinked already feeling more lost. He didn’t understand why you were so angry.

He called Midoriya about it and was told he was being intolerant. The entire conversation honestly made him feel like an asshole and Todoroki didn’t like that at all. So he gave you some space before finding you in the kitchen again, this time equipped to right his wrongs—even though he still wasn’t entirely sure what he did.

He called your name once and instead of responding, you just kept going about your task. That sort of miffed him, but he tried again. This time, you hummed back but the tension behind it made him feel defensive for some odd reason.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

“What? Are my feelings suddenly valid to you now?” you sarcastically replied.

Todoroki raised a sharp brow at your attitude and decided he was over it already. Here he was trying to apologize, and you were being difficult. He wouldn’t fight with you over something so insignificant.

“Fine. When you’re done with your little tantrum, we can talk about this like adults.”

You’d never spun around so quickly. “Really, Todoroki?”

Last name basis. Petty.

But he was even pettier.

“Yes, really, [L/N].”

His half-lidded bored stare made your scalp prickle.

“Fine. Me and my little tantrum are gonna go somewhere and you can plan the vacation all by yourself like the adult you are.”

“Fine. I’d probably get it done faster anyways.”

You let out an offended gasp. “Fine!”

“Fine!” he tsked, crossing his arms.

You two looked away from one another and stomped out of the room in childish anger.

[skiller0dani]

As You Go | Ethan Nestor

M A S T E R L I S T YouTube Masterlist

angsty smut requests info 

I���ve always had a thing for Ethan. So I decided to incorporate him, hope you guys like it! If there are any other YouTubers you want me to write about lmk! I promise I’m going to start chipping away at my requests, I love you all. I had to get this out of my system, because this song (and this one too) hella inspired me to write a piece based on it. also this gif is doing things to me. look at Ethan. his chest, his legs, his arms, his e v e r y t h i n g.

also I kept the smut short bc I’m not sure how people will respond to it, if you guys like it I’ll write more (much longer) Ethan smut. 

Mark promised to give Ethan the space he needed, but he just couldn’t help reaching out. While what happened wasn’t necessarily Mark’s fault, Ethan’s anger was being directed at both you and Mark. The guilt that had made a home in Mark’s chest was enough to cripple him, and he was borderline desperate for Ethan’s forgiveness. He texted, he called, he even emailed Ethan. Despite Amy advising Mark to give Ethan the space he desperately needed, he just couldn’t. In reality, it truly wasn’t Mark’s fault- but he still feels responsible for what you did that night. Ethan had shut himself in his house, and Mark hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. It was killing him. It was just a mistake, it didn’t mean anything. At least it sure as hell didn’t mean anything to Mark, how could Ethan believe Mark wanted it? He has Amy- he loves Amy. 

“I have to go see him.” Mark says decisively as he reaches for his car keys. But Amy reaches for them first. 

“He doesn’t want to see you.” The truth of it stings, it causes Mark to flinch. 

“I don’t care, he only knows what he saw.” Mark snaps, the pain from the memory flooding back in. 

“And what he saw traumatized him Mark, you need to give him time. He’ll come around. I told Y/N the same thing.” Amy explains, a firm look in her eyes. Mark felt emotion swell in his throat as tears misted in his eyes. “Think about how he must be feeling, he trusted the two of you more than anyone else. Ethan was never worried about leaving you and Y/N alone and then-” 

“She kissed me!” Mark cried desperately, leaning against the kitchen counter. “He has to know that and I don’t think he does.” Amy feels for Mark, she does. She knows it wasn’t his fault, but it still hurts. It’s the pain that leads Amy to protect Ethan above everyone else. The pain he must be feeling right now, Amy tears up thinking about how hurt he must be. She turns, “just leave him alone. Let him come to you.” She then saunters off, keys in hand. The last thing he needs is Mark at his doorstep. 

Ethan sits curled on the couch, his knees brought up to his chest. He has so many questions, and he’s too damn afraid to find out the answers. How long has that been going on? How long have you been into Mark? Was your entire relationship a lie? Were you just trying to get closer to Mark? Why didn’t Mark tell him? He should have seen it coming, why would anyone choose him when he’s friends with Mark? Pretending to love him gave you the perfect opportunity to get closer to Mark. The numbness of this entire week is what Ethan was the most surprised by, he expected to cry, to scream, to break everything in sight. But he didn’t- he sat and he did nothing. Said nothing. Went nowhere, he barely even ate. 

Everything about that night replays in Ethan’s mind. It was a late shooting for Unus Annus, and you’d usually tagged along. That never bothered Ethan before. It should have. 

You had participated in a drinking video for Unus Annus, since Mark couldn’t drink. You didn’t want Ethan to be drunk alone, and that’s how you found yourself in the predicament you were in now. You were in Mark and Amy’s spare bedroom, the room swaying slightly. The headache you’d had earlier was slowly ebbing away, the alcohol and the dark room helping. The door opened, someone had said they’d bring you some Advil. Through the darkness you slid your hands onto Ethan’s shoulders, he said nothing but you felt him stiffen as you did so. You giggled drunkenly when you felt him try to pry your hands off him. Why was he being so shy? 

“Eef c’mon,” You sighed as you pressed your body against his. You wound your hands through his dark hair, and he only pulled away further. “Uh- I-I’m, well I’m not-” He was stammering, normally you never caught him so off-guard with your affection. His hands were firmly on your waist, and you could have sworn he was trying to push you away. Your brain felt hazy as you leaned into him, your lips planting firmly on his. He went completely stiff, what’s the matter with Ethan tonight? The light flicks on in the next second and you pull away from Ethan, your eyes squinting in the bright light. 

“What the hell?” You hear Ethan say softly, his voice distant and wrought with an emotion you couldn’t identify. You looked up at the man you were pressed against and your eyebrows furrowed as you locked eyes with...Mark. “Mark.” You’d meant it to sound like a question but you’re pretty sure it sounded like a statement. You swayed back drunkenly, causing Mark’s hands to fly out and steady you. 

“Ethan-” Mark started worriedly as Ethan turned out of the spare bedroom. 

“Were you Mark this whole time?” You slur, watching the panic settle in Mark’s eyes. “Where’s Ethan?” You ask again, pulling away from Mark. This all felt like some vivid hallucination. You collapsed onto the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. You’re barely conscious when you hear Amy call Ethan’s name, seconds before the front door slammed. 

You were drunk, you didn’t mean it. That’s what Ethan keeps saying over and over, yet he doesn’t really believe it. A few stray tears cascade down Ethan’s cheeks when he hears banging on the front door. He wished whoever it was would go away, but still he drug himself to the front door and looked through the peephole. 

Mark. 

He’d been dodging Mark’s attempts to contact him for a week now, and Ethan knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Mark forever. So he opened the door, to find a slightly panicked, slightly relieved Mark standing in front of him. Ethan stood in the doorway, keeping the door against his side. Mark wrung his hands together as he searched for the words to say. “Can I come in?” It’s all he can think of- he just wants a chance to explain himself. Ethan nods curtly, opening the door for Mark to enter. 

“What do you want?” Ethan asks, trying his best to keep himself physically and emotionally distant from Mark. Mark stood in the doorway, feeling emotion steadily rising in his chest once more. “I-I had no idea she would kiss me! I was just bringing her Advil, she was really drunk Ethan, she didn’t even know it was me. She thought it was you! She even said your name, it was dark in there!” Mark huffs in one breath and Ethan doesn’t know how to respond. He nodded before turning to lean against the couch. 

“Honestly I don’t care how it happened Mark, that doesn’t change anything. It still happened regardless, and knowing why doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Ethan says, his voice soft. Ethan never thought of himself as cynical, but right now he felt like all the color was draining out of the world. The betrayal he feels almost feels as though it’s been branded onto him. Something he will never be able to leave behind, no matter what happens in the future, he’ll never be able to forget that this happened. 

“I’m sorry Ethan, I- I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Mark says again, feeling panic growing in his chest. Ethan nods as he rubs a hand down his face. He turns to Mark, he wants to forgive Mark. His friendship is too valuable to Ethan to lose. He reaches out for Mark and wraps his arms around him, and he feels Mark release a breath. “I’m so- so sorry.” Ethan wraps his arms around Mark tighter, “I know.” 

Forgiving Mark felt good, it brought Ethan some respite through the hardest time in his life. But another week had passed and he still couldn’t bring himself to answer your texts or calls, or open the door when you came by. He didn’t know how he could be around you without feeling all the pain come rushing back in. You kissed Mark. But he gave Mark a chance, and he knew sooner or later he’d have to give you a chance too. That’s why he texted you, and told you to come over. Ethan felt his palms sweating, it was like he couldn’t even breathe. The seconds seemed to tick by so slowly, and while he was still so angry and hurt... he couldn’t deny how excited he was to see you again. 

When the doorbell rang, it was almost embarrassing how quickly Ethan was answering the door. You carefully made your inside and for a few minutes you and Ethan did nothing other than stare at each other. In an instant Ethan had reached forward and brought his lips to yours. He knew he’d never be able to trust you again, he knew the relationship was over. But before you go, he needs to feel you around him one more time. He needs to feel your skin against his. You melt into him, your lips moving with his as Ethan’s hand slide down your back to your legs. He tugs on your legs, signaling you to jump. Offering a little jump, Ethan wraps your legs around his waist as he presses you against the nearest wall. 

You moan softly as Ethan trails desperate kisses down the column of your neck, his hands resting firmly on your ass. His movements are quick, almost desperate as he gently grinds against you. You moan again as your hands tangle in his hair, this wasn’t what you were expecting when he asked you to come over. You missed him, you missed this. Ethan’s lips trail back up to yours as he keeps turns and leans you down against the couch. His hands dance down your body to the waistband of your leggings, quickly yanking them down your body. “God Ethan I missed you.” You moaned, and for a second Ethan almost forgets. He almost forgets what you did. He nearly lost himself in the tender suppleness of your skin. Ethan nearly lost himself in the heat coming from between your legs.  

Ethan doesn’t respond as his hand delves between your legs. His fingers dancing between your folds as you desperately fumble with the buckle of his belt. Eventually you pull it through the loops, already helping him unbutton his jeans as he leans over you again. He’s going to miss your skin against his, among so many other more meaningful things. He’s going to miss how your nose scrunches up when you laugh, or how you would play with his hair when he was stressed. Most of all he’s going to miss how safe he felt when he was with you, he’ll never feel like that with you again. You destroyed any sense of security he ever felt with you the second you pressed your lips against Mark’s. Once his jeans were around his ankles, Ethan kicked them off before slowly pressing his head into you. 

He pulls you up against his chest, his head pressed into your neck as he slowly slides into you inch by inch. You hold desperately to him, moaning softly against his clothed shoulder as he gently stretches you open. You wind your legs around his waist as he slides out slowly before bottoming out again. Ethan sets a slow and steady pace, his breath fanning against your neck and your eyes are screwed shut as Ethan slowly pushes into you again and again. The pleasure building inside you is overwhelming and soon you’re panting against Ethan as he picks up his pace only slightly. Ethan drives into you again and again until you feel that winding coil inside you snap and you cum hard around him. Ethan offers a few more forceful thrusts before cumming into you, thank god for birth control.  

Ethan is silent after he pulls out, and there’s a somber look on his face. You try to reach up to cup his cheek in your palm but he turns away from you. You lean up on your elbows, watching as he pulls his jeans back up. “I can’t trust you. Maybe it’s selfish of me but I just needed to feel you one last time.” Your eyebrows furrow together as your heart breaks in your chest. Is Ethan...breaking up with you? You quickly pull your leggings up, “Ethan...I’m sorry I am.” 

“I know, but I can’t be in a relationship with no trust.” He says finally, his tone firm. You feel tears in your eyes as you stand. 

“But I love you.” You whisper and Ethan turns to you with tears in his eyes. 

“I love you, but I can’t do this.” He says again, before turning and heading up the stairs, taking your heart with him as he goes. 

[imagines-r-s]

sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 5

a/n: um, y’all might not like me once again, but it’s good for character development. (also i had to repost bc the tags weren’t working, so if you’re seeing it again, don’t stress)

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland​ @lovenhlboys​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @hockey-racing-fubol​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @iwantahockeyhimbo​ @bbbbruins​ @dreamsndior

warnings: angst. angst. plot twist a tad bit more angst. kathryn. sad joel. simp joel. simp nation for both of them. (nicole being the bestest friend ever. adrian being adrian *chef’s kiss*)

sticking it masterlist

wc: 4.5k (these keep getting longer and longer)

(gif not mine)

“Ok, ladies. There’s exactly one week until the U.S Classic. For the Junior Division, the few of you that are here right now will be getting exposure to bigger competitions that you will have in the future. This week the three of you are going to be hitting a few routines on each event and then marking the rest of them. We’re not throwing any new skills into the mix, we’re just taking this week to perfect what we have.

For the two of you in the Senior Division, perfection before progress is our motto for this week. We’re not throwing anything huge or difficult, we just perfect routines and move on. For all of you, sometime this week, we will have a mock competition where you’ll go and perform each event as if it were at a meet. Afterwards, if there’s anything a coach tells you to work on or if there’s anything you fall on, you’ll go back and work on that skill or event,” Michelle told everyone as you did your morning line up, “alright, you all know which event to start on first, so let’s just go and have a good week.”

Shortly after that, everyone went to their first event. For many, they went to the event that needed the most work, but you decided to avoid the event that you needed the most work on, instead heading to work on bars first.

“Is there a particular reason that you’re not working your beam dismount?” Nicole asked, as the two of you got chalk.

“No. I’m just working what I need to,” you said.

“y/n, c’mon, that dismount is what needs the most work right now. I understand if you don’t want to work anything major, but you haven’t even done a triple off the actual beam yet. I just don’t want you to beat yourself up for not working it.”

“It’s fine, Nicole. I’ll figure it out,” you left Nicole at the chalk box and started working on your bar routine. Nicole watched as you started your routine, you were making subtle mistakes that she wouldn’t have picked up if she wasn’t watching you so intently.

She winced as you fell on a release skill, a skill that you could easily do in your sleep. Watching as you took a deep breath before getting back on the bar, doing the rest of your skills, and not missing the way your face slightly twisted in pain from the impact of the landing of your dismount.

As you made your way back to the chalk box, she also saw the slight falter in your steps. “Dude, is your knee okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just landed weird, I’ll walk it off eventually.”

“y/n, look. I’m just putting this out there, but don’t be afraid to take a break.”

“I don’t exactly have time for breaks right now, but thanks,” you huffed before leaving to work a few skills in your bar routine. Nicole knew you well enough to know that you weren’t doing okay, you hadn’t been since you came back from the lake. You hadn’t exactly told her what had happened, but she knew it had to have happened while you were gone. You were never one to talk about your feelings and she was never one to push you to talk.

The rest of practice couldn’t have gone worse. There was wobbling on basic skills, missed landings, and lots of falling. Lots and lots of falling. Worst of all, anytime you would get on the beam to do the dismount, you would psych yourself out, until you eventually would give up and go back to a different event.

You knew it wasn’t just gymnastics that was stressing you out right now, there was the stress of Kathryn competing the skill that you had worked your ass off to get and when you were about to get the credit for doing said skill, you got hurt; there was the fact that the U.S. Classic was indeed a week away and the first of five practices right before had gone terribly; and then there was the stress of the fact that you pushed away the one person that only wanted what was best for you.

As you drove home, you had a simple plan of going straight to bed as soon as you got home. You didn’t want to have to deal with all your thoughts racing right now and although you were avoiding something with sleep, you thought it might be the best option for right now. Once you got inside your apartment, you kicked off your shoes, grabbed one of your smoothies from the fridge, and made a beeline towards your room.

The next practice went almost the exact same; falling on basic skills, not going for the dismount, and your mind being a thousand miles away. You were hopeful that whatever was going on wasn’t super obvious, but by the time practice was over Marcus had pulled you into his office to talk to you.

“What’s up?” you asked, walking into his office and closing the door behind you.

“What’s up with me? No, we’re here to talk about you. Like what the fuck is going on with you right now?”

“I’m just stressed about this weekend that’s all,” you shrugged.

“Look, I’ve known you long enough and I’ve seen you when you’re nervous about a comp and it never looks like this. So, I’m asking again, what’s going on with you right now?”

“There’s nothing going on, I’m telling you,” you practically yelled.

“y/n,” he sighed, “we let you have a break because you were doing fine other than your dismount, which you were making progress on, but now, you’re just going backwards instead of forwards. I don’t know what happened or what’s going on - and I’m assuming you don’t want to talk about it - but whatever it is needs to get figured out. If you can’t do at least five triple dismounts in the next two days, you’re just doing your double back dismount and you aren’t working the 3.5.”

“Wha-? Marcus, what the fuck? No, that’s not fair.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable actually, if you aren’t doing them at practice, you aren’t competing it. I have always made that clear. Right now, your head is not in what you’re doing, and it’s fairly obvious the only thing motivating you is that Kathryn might be competing it and with how your attitude is right now, that combo will only end in bad news.”

You knew he was right, he had known you long enough to know the way you got in your head about anything, so right now with the combo of everything going on, it made sense. “Marcus, I’ll drop the attitude, whatever. But I can’t deal with what will happen if she competes that dismount this weekend.”

“Ok, you say that, but I want proof. The words coming out of your mouth mean nothing, unless I see you actually doing what you say you will. I love you and I want you to be able to say that skill that hurt you is now named after you, you deserve that, but right now, you’re wearing yourself out trying to prove yourself and it’s only hurting you. You need to figure out whatever is going on up here,” he said, pointing to his head, “before you can work out the physicality of it. Now you have tomorrow to do those five dismounts and if you don’t do them, we’ll work them after this competition.”

Not trusting your voice right now, you simply nodded your head before turning and leaving his office towards your car. Taking deep breaths, you finally sat down in your car, closing your eyes for a moment as your eyes had started watering. Right now the pile of things going on in your life was just growing and you knew if tomorrow’s practice didn’t go good, you would be a wreck.

Pulling out your phone, your first instinct was to go to your messages and text Joel, but something in you was telling you that it was way too soon and that you would only get no response in return. So, instead, you pulled up Spotify and turned on one of your sad playlists just to really set the mood.

…..

You weren’t aware of it, but it wasn’t just you that was a mess. Joel had started packing his stuff as soon as he got back to his room, he knew there was no way he would be able to see you the next day without yelling or crying or letting out whatever emotion he was feeling. He didn’t really even know what he was feeling. Heartbreak? Anger? Sadness?

He couldn’t even wrap his head around what had happened. He had firmly believed when he asked what was going on between the two of you, that you would say something more - anything more - than just friends. Maybe he had been naive, interpreted the situation wrong, but everything was pointing in the right direction.

If you had said anything other than what you had, he would have understood. You want to focus on gym? Ok, he’ll be there on the sidelines supporting you. You can’t do a relationship with everything else going on in your life? Ok, we’ll take time and figure stuff out. But with the certainty that you said the two of you were nothing more than friends, knocked every expectation he had out the window.

He wasn’t saying that he was the perfect guy, he knew he was far from it, but he wanted to figure things out with you being there beside him. Maybe not for the long run, but for the time being he was perfectly fine with what was going on.

As soon as he got home from the lake, he kept to himself for a few days, only coming out because he had a practice. He tried to keep up with everything, but somehow his motions were too slow and he wasn’t catching onto what was happening around him quick enough. Everyone around him was noticing that something was off, but nobody - not even those that were at the lake - knew what was up.

The practices they had that week all kinda played out the same, Joel, who was usually on top of everything and one of the most consistent players, wasn’t playing the way he usually did. Everyone on the team was worried based off of how practices were going, but anytime they tried to talk to him, he simply brushed it off or left before an actual conversation could start.

There were nights that he laid in bed and ended up with your contact pulled up on his phone, or he saw something funny that he knew would make you laugh, but right now, he didn’t know how he should react to what had happened. He didn’t know the rules that he had set in place by walking away that night.

With games on both Wednesday and Thursday that week, he knew he needed to step up. He had to put his feelings aside and be there for his team. That plan worked out well during the Wednesday night game, he didn’t score, but he was able to be there for his team. With the emotions that came from a win, he was able to ignore everything else he felt for at least a while.

Thursday's game did not play out the same way. Joel was making simple mistakes that cost him from making goals and he wasn’t happy about it. He caught a few too many penalties that night and was almost benched because of it. The Flyers lost against the Capitals by one point, which brought down everyone’s mood.

“Yeah, y/n/n isn’t doing all that great right now. She’s not doing any of her dismounts that she needs to and I guess Marcus said she had to do so many or else she wasn’t competing them, but I haven’t heard if she got them done. So, we’ll see how that goes tomorrow,” Joel overheard Kevin tell Nolan.

“She competes tomorrow night, right?” Nolan asked, as he grabbed his bag.

“Yeah, you still want to come? I think she could really use that pep talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, dude. Teeks has plans with Karly, so it’ll just be us, I think.”

Joel wanted to say something, but he didn’t think you’d want him there. To put it simply, he did miss you, but he just wanted an explanation of what had happened. That night as he had your text messages open, he could have sworn he saw the bubbles that meant you were typing show up.

…..

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts, knowing that it was Kevin who was knocking you quickly opened the door and made your way back to your room, “well, hello to you, too, y/n/n. You really know how to make visitors welcome.”

Kevin quietly followed behind you to your room, quickly taking notice of how you had decided to empty out your gym bag on your bed and lay all your leos out on your bed, “so, how was practice this morning?” Kevin asked, softly.

“It was practice,” you said, grabbing your hairspray from your bathroom.

“Scale of 1-10?”

“3.25.”

“That’s specific?”

“Well, some good things happened and some didn’t so, there we go,” you grabbed your garment bag out of your closet.

“Did you do the dismounts?” Kevin asked, watching as you visibly tensed.

“No and Marcus is making me do my stupid back up dismount because I can’t do the twisting dismount. And now Kathryn is going to do the dismount, and get it named after her, and she’ll have that over me. Plus, everything with Joel is kinda up in the air right now and I don’t know what to do about that one.”

“What happened with you and Beezer? Are you just going to waltz around the issue or are you going to tell me what happened? It stays between us, but if it’s something I need to beat up Beezer for, just ask nicely.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew you would have to talk it out sooner or later, “uh, after you guys left, me and Bee had a discussion about what we were, and I said we were just friends.”

“Oh, damn. Shit, I mean, wow, truly remarkable.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kev. I get it.”

“Ok, so I’m going to assume that Beezer wasn’t too happy about it?” Kevin asked, earning a nod from you, “so, you just didn’t talk it out like civilized individuals or am I missing something here?”

“Well, more than just the flirting happened, nothing super crazy, but yeah, so he was very - understandably - upset by me saying we were just friends.”

“And again, you guys didn’t just talk it out like civilized individuals?”

“No, he was gone before I could talk to him.”

“Don’t you kids have phones or something? You guys aren’t going to figure shit out if you don’t talk to each other?” Kevin asked, like it was the most obvious option.

“Yeah, I know, but like,” you sighed, “yikes. You know. What the fuck do I say ‘hey Bee, I was actually just joking when I said that. Haha, you’ve been pranked’ not exactly a smooth recovery, you know.”

“You’re helpless. I think you should focus on the competition that you have tomorrow and worry about the bigger problems later. C’mon, I’ll help you pack,” and once he knew that you were all ready for your competition, he made his way back to his apartment.

…

Stepping out of the arena’s locker room stall, you made your way over to the sink to do your hair and makeup. You stayed by the sink, considering that Nicole was still changing, when the one person you didn’t want to talk to stood right beside you, “hey y/n. How’s that dismount coming?”

“How’s your mom coming?” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“Awe, wow, that’s real mature of you. I know you’re just upset that your beloved plan of getting your dismount named after you isn’t going the way you wanted and to think if you didn’t get hurt, you’d have it named after you already. Hm, how devastating.”

“Ooh, Kathryn, impressive vocabulary. I’m glad to see you finally opened that thesaurus I got you.”

“Look, y/n, I know that you’re just projecting negative emotions because you’re upset that I compete on beam before you do. It’s okay, we all feel bad sometimes,” Kathryn added.

“Oh, and she’s learned about projecting negative emotions. I’m very impressed.”

“y/n, you’re just mad because everyone knows that you’re burning out and that you shouldn’t have tried to make a comeback after your injury. Get over it or get out of this sport,” she said before walking away.

Staring up at the ceiling to keep whatever emotions you could at bay, you didn’t notice Nicole come up right beside you, “you know what she said wasn’t true, right? You’re proving to everyone just how amazing you are by coming back, please don’t let that bitch get to you.”

“No, but she’s right about the dismount. Right now, I’m not where I need to be and people are noticing. I shouldn’t be here,” you said, finally looking her in the eye.

“y/n. Stop. Seriously, this pity party is not going to work today. You’re going to go out there and kick ass, like you always do. I don’t care if she’s doing the dismount, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now, shut the fuck up and go out there and prove her and anyone else that doubts you wrong,” she said, “we’re not leaving here until I see a genuine smile on your face.”

Laughing at your best friend, you made your way out to the tunnel for your pre-competition rituals. Eventually, Nolan and Kevin made their way towards you, which did lift your spirits a lot. Nolan gave you your usual pep talk and talked you through all your routines until they called out the announcement for warm up to start.

Starting on vault, you did two of the best vaults you could, you weren’t going to let Kathryn get to you today. When you were warming up on bars, you noticed Kathryn warming up on beam. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the way your heart fell when you saw her land the dismount that you were supposed to be doing.

Attempting once again to ignore her, you started competing your bar routine, making all the release skills that were causing you issues during practice, connecting all your skills, and sticking your dismount; a near perfect routine in your book. The smile that had grown on your face, slowly falling as you saw Kathryn start her routine.

Her routine was near flawless, with only slight wobbles in there. You had watched her routine enough times to know when her dismount was coming up, biting at your lip, you tried not to show too much emotion on your face - knowing that the media would just eat it up. But then she landed it.

She landed it. The 3.5 dismount that you had worked your ass off to get, was now named after her. And you had yet to even do the dismount again since your injury.

Your breath hitched as you watched her salute before walking away back to her coaches. “C’mon, y/n. We still have two events to do. Don’t get in your head now,” Michelle said, ushering you towards the beam.

It’s a lot easier said than done to not get in your head about your competitors when in this sport. A sport where the smallest deductions could cost you so much, but right now you just had two routines left.

Working up the courage to get on the beam and do your routine, you fell twice and somehow stepped out on the double back dismount. You didn’t miss the way that Marcus’ face fell slightly, but he knew you would be fine on floor.

He knew you well enough to know that with floor being your strongest event, there were only a few ways that you would get deductions, he knew that you could come back from what had happened on beam. Sticking all your tumbling passes and doing perfect leaps and jumps, you were able to make up for the score on beam and qualify for Championships next month.

You avoided looking at Kathryn, knowing she would just send a smirk your way, you accepted the awards that you got and made your way back to the locker room. Getting 1st on floor, vault, bars, and all around, and 3rd on beam, you practically threw the medals that you got on the counter and your hands gripped onto the edge of the sink as you tried to settle your breathing down.

Nicole stood watch at the door to make sure that no one came in until you had calmed down and she also made sure that you didn’t have to deal with media before you got to Kevin. Kevin and Nolan simply took you back to their apartment so that you wouldn’t be alone. Luckily, they understood that you didn’t want to talk right now, so they let you go to the guest room that already had enough clothes in there for you and let you go to sleep.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Nolan asked, grabbing a water bottle from their fridge.

“She just has a lot going on, I think she’ll be okay sooner than later. I did find out what happened at the lake - I can’t share - but I am aware of what happened and they’re just being idiots, that’s all.”

“Makes sense.”

When you woke up the next day, you quickly took note of the pain that you felt in your knee, brushing it off as general soreness, you made your way towards the kitchen.

“Hey y/n/n, Kev is on his way back from getting breakfast, so if you want to stay and join us, you are welcome to,” Nolan’s voice rang from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I will. Thank you,” you replied, softly, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

“You doing ok?” he sighed, “That’s a dumb question. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing as okay as I can be, you know. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Shortly after, the door opened once more, “I come bearing gifts,” Kevin said.

“I always knew you were good for something,” you replied, earning a fist bump from Nolan. As you stood up from the barstool, the pain in your knee caused you to wince.

“y/n, you good?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I think my knee is just sore or something from yesterday, it’ll be fine.”

“If it gets worse, you better tell me.”

“Yeah, of course, Kev.”

The ‘general soreness’ you felt lasted a few days before Kevin got to the end of his rope, “c’mon, we’re going to see Adrian.”

“Why?”

“Your knee hasn’t gotten any better. That’s not just your knee being sore, something is wrong and it’s obvious. So, let’s go.” Kevin knew that if he didn’t do something that the pain in your knee would only get worse, he knew you would keep pushing it until you absolutely couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to stop what you loved because you were too stubborn to do anything, so he called Adrian, who immediately told him to bring you in.

“Ah, there’s my superstar,” Adrian said, watching you walk into his office.

“I don’t want to be here, but it’s nice to see you, Adrian,” he simply rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, Ms. Stubborn, we know you didn’t want to be here, but it’s the smart thing to do. I know you’re not used to making decisions like that, but here you are,” Adrian said, simply pointing to the bench, knowing that you had been here enough times to know what to do.

You watched as Adrian’s face changed as he examined your knee, “have you been working the landing on events constantly? Yes or no?”

“I mean, recently, kinda. I did a lot of reps for bars and vault, that’s kinda the only landings I was doing, why?”

“I hate to say it, but it looks like the running and landings are putting too much pressure on the knee right now. Have you worn tape or your brace recently?”

“No, but I thought it was fine.”

“Yeah, of course you thought it was fine. How much have landings been hurting your knee recently, 1-10?”

“5?”

“y/n, I know when you’re lying, today is not the day.”

“7 to 9, it just depends.”

Adrian took a deep breath, “alright, well, I need you to wear your brace almost 24/7 for the next 14 days-”

“Adrian, no, I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will, babes. I’m not taking suggestions right now. 2 weeks with the brace and crutches, nothing other than ab and upper body workouts, and no hard landings. Then, another 2 weeks, with athletic tape and still no hard landings. If you do bars, no dismount, definitely no tumbling, you can do leaps and jumps, but keep it to a minimum.”

“Adrian, what? No, you don’t understand, I-”

“You want to go to the Olympics, yes?” you nodded, “well, with the amount of pressure and amount you’re overworking it, your knee won’t be ready unless you take a break now. And you have to actually listen to me this time. I want you to succeed, but you have to listen in order to be able to.”

“I’m telling Kevin, too, so that way you actually have to do it. But once those 4 weeks are up, we’ll check and make sure it’s looking good and you should be fine.”

“Adrian, that only gives me like two weeks before Championships and I have to do good during that or I won’t qualify for trials.”

“Love, sometimes you just have to trust things to work out, okay? It’ll all work out, I promise you. Now, how’s lover boy?”

“You can’t just change topics like that, dude. I’m still mad about the other thing,” you shot a glare at the man in front of you.

“You’re fine. Chill out, sweetheart. Now, how is lover boy?”

“They aren’t talking,” Kevin’s voice echoed as he came into the office.

“Why?” Adrian asked, turning to you.

“Stuff happened and I bailed,” Adrian rolled his eyes at you once again.

“Dumbass. You’re a dumbass. He’s good for you or he seems good for you, at least from what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s great,” you smiled.

“So then, what the fuck are you doing here? Go talk to him, text him, call him, something. You have a phone, use it.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s only not that easy because you’re making it 100 times more difficult. Communicate. Go get your man and stop being stupid. Now, listen to what I said about both things, enjoy your time with the crutches again, and go talk to your boy.”

[nexyra]

What is your take on rwby chara's mbti types? I think

Weiss - xSTJ, thought that she was ESTJ at first but ISTJ makes a lot of sense too.

Winter - ESTJ

Pyrrha - ESFJ

Emerald - ISFJ (I've seen some ppl type her as INFJ but I don't see how she is a Ni dom?)

Whitley - ENTJ? I'm honestly not sure abt that..

Adam - fucked up xNFJ, probably INFJ (seen him typed as xNTJ but his delusional thinking process imo screams unhealthy Ti and I think his manipulation of Blake and the WF is more Fe than Te

Qrow - was thinking ISTP but with the more recent volumes I'm really not sure..

Penny - ENFP

Ozpin - Uuuuuh INTP maybe?? But I've seen some people type him as INFJ. INFJ 5w6 would make sense as to why he might appear as an INTP but idk..

Bartholomew- ENTP

Jaune - no fucking idea honestly

Ironwood - ENTJ

Sun - Seen ppl type him as ENFP but I don't see any Ne at all..,,ESFP?

Yang - ESxP, maybe ESTP

Cinder - INTJ

Mercury - ISTP

Oscar - ISFJ

Ren - ISTx?

Hello anon ! I see my love for typology hasn't gone unnoticed 😂 Thank you so much for the ask !

I prefer enneagram over MBTI because I find it easier to type; so fair warning that I'm not an authority on MBTI-typing. But I do have have an ongoing RWBY typing that includes MBTI sooo... here goes !

(I'm putting my ennea typings along with it, but not explaining them on this post)

➸ RWBYJNPR

Ruby • xNFP 6w7 9w1 2w3?

I just can't decide between the two fors Ruby because... it kind of goes both way ??? Like Ruby definitely feels as INFP for the first half of the series; she's got a clear Fi > Ne preference... But then when she develops her Tert in V6 it's just... Te ? And she really doesn't show much Si actually she fits more the Si inf vibe in the form of forgetting about bad memories and her mom until people dig it up and she's like "nooo !" ?? So it looks like Te > Si but also Fi > Ne; conclusion idfk

Weiss • ISTJ 1w2 6w5 3w4 sp/so

Clear Fi tert rearing its head along with the 1 so I'm going with ISTJ; I also never really saw any Ne. Her type isn't too disagreed upon so tell me if you want a lenghtier explanation.

Blake • ISFP 6w5 9w8 4w3 (in some order)

Wooh this might get the anger of some (i have experience with the INFJ typers) but Blake goddamn REEKS of Fi. Less so recently but for the first seasons oh my god. She straights up catch you by the shirt and tells you "I'm doing the right thing"; and said right thing is so heavily dependant on her own subjectives values, which is why Blake can't reconcile with the current White Fang; because she doesn't have a strong Je vision of "what objectively works in the end", she only sees actions in terms of immediate right and wrong, and this b&w dichotomy stems from herself. What the WF is doing is wrong and the circumstances don't matter for judging the morality of their actions (of course I'm not talking about murder here bc that's pretty wrong ALL THE TIME but for example the stealing occuring in V1 bc of the WF is a better example)

Yang • ESXP 7w8 8w7 2w3

I'm sorry about that but I can't help you on that aspect anon, I still can't make up my mind about whether Yang has Fi or Ti. I have seen arguments for both, and i'm not the best at picking up on Ti so it's hard for me to tell.

Jaune • ESFJ 6w7 3w2 9w1

No strong opinions on his MBTI, it's kinda just based on vibes

Nora • ENFP 6w7 9w8 3w2

Textbook ENFP, not much to say here x))

Pyrrha • XXFJ 2w1 1w2 6?

In my list Pyrrha is currently written down as ISFJ but that's mostly based on the general consensus and me wanting to get rid of the XX. I don't actually have any convincing arguments to decide on Ni or Si, so I could go either way if someone else makes their case well. I feel like she's Fe aux more than dom, but even about that I could change my mind. Pyrrha didn't have that much screentime in the end :((

Ren • ISTJ? 9w1 5w4 4w5

Ironically I'm not sure about his type, kind of like you. I've mentionned I'm not very good at picking up on Ti right ? And Ren was a background character before V4 really. I had him written down as ISTP for a while but I've seen some convincing arguments for ISTJ so I might lean toward that actually but who knows. The thing I'm very confident about is his 5 fix = )

➸ Faunus bonus

Sun • ESFP 7w6 2w3 9w1 so/sx

I don't see any Ne at all either so I don't understand the ENFP typings...?? Maybe the 7 stereotypes ? Imo Sun is just a very good boy; certified ESFP 7 himbo; triple positive sunshine !

Ilia • Ti-Fe axis ?

Again, not enough screentime for me to make an educated guess. My only certainty is : not high Fi. It's the source of their conflicts. Blake confidence in absolute right & wrong, tracing lines in the sand between acceptable & unacceptable. Whereas Ilia can only shake her head and say "Because it works", or cry out "I don't know what else to do !"

Adam • 3w4 8w7 6w5

I honestly don't really have much of an opinion about Adam's MBTI, i'm sorry anon ;; I don't know enough about how he thinks

➸ Oz-related things and his circle

Ozpin • INFJ 5w4 2w1 1w9

I would personally call him an INFJ. I... never really got INTP vibes from him ? I don't see the Fe inf work out with his interactions : he's always rather at ease, he knows how to navigate around people... His focus inherently lies on doing what's best for the "group", the people, humanity. Fx functions are both concerned with ethics, in different ways, and I think Oz reflects that well. He IS concerned with the moral weight of his actions, but it's a more adaptable and unpersonnal concern than Fi people. He regards Ironwood's soul machines as something wrong, but can still agree to use it if the situations demand it for example. So... if the INFJ + 5 makes sense to you, well that's what I'm typing him personally. I also feel like Ni fits him more than Ne. Ozpin has a very linear way of planning, he does use his fair share of symbolism in every day conversation... Even when taking decisions, he... kind of cares about the meaning of things a lot ? It's hard to explain but like; the way he highlights the difference between an army and a guardian, and the emotionnal response it brings. I don't know it feels like there's some Ni vibes in there x)

Oscar • ISFJ 9w8 6w7 3w2

Oscar's type honestly isn't the one I would have the easiest time explaining in lenght but yea. It's mostly vibes; also just like Ozpin he doesn't seem to have a particularly Fi reasonning. And he feels more grounded, I don't really remember any Ni so... yay ?

Ironwood • ENFJ 6w5 1w2 3w4 (pre-Vol8); ENTJ (post-Vol8)

Might be weird if you think he was a dictator from the start, but I kind of entertained the idea of Ironwood being Fe dom ? From his very first interaction it was very clear that he was a Je dom to me; he's all about objective results; he doesn't give off the "internal framework" or "personnal values" vibe AT ALL; so it was more a matter of picking Te or Fe. He LOOKS super Te don't get me wrong; but he also has an enneagram tritype that is very common amongst XXTJs (and TJs stereotypes thus derive from it). And just like Oz, his focus at all time seemed to be the greater good and doing what's best for the people still. So I was like... Eh, a "harsh" ENFJ I think that's interesting ? Plus Fe ethics actually derive from their environment, kinda like "everyone agrees that Y is wrong", and if you consider that James is from Atlas... Well his way of thinking and ethics align pretty well with the military.

His character took a turn for the worse in V8 (whether too quick or not depends on who you ask) and past that point he's a clear ENTJ; but I feel like it was more debatable before that. Idk though I might be overthinking this in the hope of making more interesting combinations xD

Qrow • ISTP 4w3 6w7? 1w9? sp/sx

I don't really see anything else than ISTP for Qrow... But he's not a character I would want to find Ti arguments for either.

Raven • ENTJ Cp6w5 8w9 3w4

Most villains get called ENTJ at the first occasions tbh zlqfznhqzkf but I think it fits Raven for the most part actually...

➸ Atlas

Winter • ESTJ 1w9 3w4 6w5

The whole Schnee family has the same enneagram tritype in different order/different wings, it's ridiculous I think she has a higher Te than Weiss, and Fi inf fits her more. She struggles more to reconcile with her emotions and the idea of a personal right/wrong than her little sis.

Penny • ENFP 4w3 6w7 9w1 sx/so

Perfect example of a healthy 4, she's a great friend a cutie pie. ... Sorry we were talking about MBTI x) Well again, textbook ENFP. Not much to debate here.

Whitley • 3w4 1w9 6w5?

Not enough material for me to guess a MBTI type correctly either, sorry... I could see some kind of xNTJ yea but it's really just vibes and not enough concrete.

➸ Antagonists and Extras

Cinder • 8w7 3w4 6w5

Never cared to guess her MBTI type. I hereby type her as insufferable qkfqskfq. More seriously, I don't really know sorry Anon :/

Emerald • 2w3 ?w? ?w?

I never got Fe vibes from her tbh, I just think she's a 2. And Fe as a function is very infused with 2 stereotypes. So yea. Like, she isn't even that worried about the morality of her actions or anything more than the other villains. She just cares more about her personal relationships and being loved, so she automatically looks much nicer, especially with 2 mechanisms of trying to make herself useful and needed. Also because she's surrounded by 8-ish people xD

Mercury • 8w9 7w8 ?w?

ISTP doesn't sound too farfeteched, but I never MBTI-typed him either, sorry.

+

Bartholomew Oobleck • xSxJ 5w4

The only vibe he gave me is Si somewhere because of all his talks about learning from the past and everything repeats itself and it's a mine of informations at Mountain Glen... That's really the only time I tried to put down anything for him, and it was Si + 5. He could be some kind of xNTP nerd too for sure, but that's more vibe and I couldn't make an actual argument for it.

[bpdanakins]

i just infodumped to my friends about bpd anakin and i have No Regrets snakjdkajfsk

anyway, doth thee have any more bpd anakin (or just anakin in general) headcanons becuase i am living for this

I am So Sorry this took so long, but hopefully the length makes up for it. Thank you so much for sending this to me bc BPD!Anakin is my entire life. I could talk about it all day, every day.

I’d like to thank @apple-grass-and-smiles for helping me organize my Thoughts on all of this, prompting me to focus on certain things and giving me feedback in general too. 

Okay, here goes:

Anakin fidgets!! I’m not even sure if this is a headcanon but if it is I will die on this hill. He can’t stay still for the life of him and doubly so when he’s anxious, nervous or Ready To Do Something Already. 

We know Anakin can’t hold eye contact to save his life when he’s upset or insecure, but I can also see him having issues with touch when he’s upset, unless it’s from certain people only (Padmé always gets a pass, for example).

Anakin’s quick to let some small stuff go, but larger things people do that hurt him (whether intentionally or not) aren’t really ever forgotten, and he just kind of takes that in and suppresses it, until random moments when it pops up, he remembers, and it just hurts like it’s happening all over again. The people around him often have no idea what fully sets him off, bc to them, his reaction now seems out of nowhere while his mind’s still stuck on this other thing.     - His reactions also seem sometimes like they’re Over The Top, but even just remembering past hurts can feel almost disabling at times. It’s worse when he ends up ruminating on it, because the hurt and feelings of betrayal just keep building up over and over until it almost blots everything else out.

When he’s happy or surrounded by those he loves, everyone kind of can feel it too, bc he’s just fuckoff powerful in the Force and esp other Force sensitives kind of gather around his space and just… his affection and excitement are literally infectious. 

This probably runs closer to ADHD than BPD for sure, but get him talking about anything mechanical (robotics, engineering, racing, etc) and he will go from 0 to 100 so fast you’d get whiplash. No one minds though bc, as I said, his excitement is infectious and honestly those around him just adore listening to him go off even though half of it goes over their head.     - Ahsoka may not ever get Gotta Go Fast, but she definitely loves it when he really talks her ear off about all this stuff, bc it makes her excited to learn and she picks up on all of it easily. (There’s a part of her that wants to emulate him and she does def look up to him obviously.)     - We see it with Obi-Wan, but people love to use his love of all things mechanical as a way to distract him from things that upset him. It doesn’t always work but they try.

With Obi-Wan, he ends up on the side of Anakin’s splitting like, all the time. And unfortunately sometimes Obi-Wan can’t tell that Anakin’s lashing out not because of something Obi-Wan’s actually done, but bc Anakin’s young and Obi-Wan’s the figure he can project a lot of his frustrations on.     - It can lead Obi-Wan to being confused and hurt sometimes, bc he doesn’t always understand Anakin’s thought processes when this happens, and it definitely sometimes cuts him to the core. On the reverse side, though Anakin might not always say it to his face, Obi-Wan definitely can overhear him at times when Anakin’s ready to 1v1 anyone who even so much as makes a frowny face about Obi-Wan, which helps Obi-Wan remember that Anakin does love him too, actually.     - It ends up being one of the points of frisson between Anakin and Mace, bc Anakin can’t read body language perfectly, especially when it comes to feelings of abandonment or someone seemingly not loving who Anakin loves to the same degree. Mace has a drier sense of humor at times and defs has a more resting frowny face, and this rankles Anakin at times bc he can’t always tell when Mace is just chilling vs being disappointed, and while Anakin will take it all personally, he ALSO takes any perceived criticism to those he loves personally too.     - Both Mace and Obi-Wan don’t get this bc they have a perfectly fine relationship. Anakin’s just Like That.     - (And super overprotective of people’s perceptions of Obi-Wan. Anakin will go off about Obi-Wan being mean and all that, but fuck you and your entire family tree if you ever even think Obi-Wan’s anything short as the most amazing Jedi to ever Jedi.)

Everybody and their mother can see the pedestal Anakin puts Padmé on, and surprisingly she rarely is on the end of his splitting. When he does, he just internalizes it bc he can’t stand the idea that he’s somehow seen her in a wrong light, or he feels guilty for getting angry with her.     - He also defines a huge chunk of his life around loving her, making her his center for a lot of his decisions and reactions, so when they’re off, his whole world seems backwards. It makes him Really uncomfortable and unsure. He gets panicky and upset and often people have no idea what the cause is so they just end up a lil panicky in return.     - He tends to take it out on others, by doing an exercise or by disappearing to fiddle with something.     - Pads has an easier time recognizing Anakin’s emotional needs, bc in some ways they’re the same as hers. She’s good at reaching out to him, comforting him and reassuring him of her love. And in turn, he like, never fucking shuts up about how much he loves her, and those moments are what make her feel so special around him. Being loved by Anakin makes someone feel important and even get tingly, bubbly happy feelings, because it’s hard to doubt it sometimes.     - There’s a part of her that sometimes worries about how Intense he is, but, like I said, when his positive intense emotions are focused on you, it feels wonderful. And he’s genuinely super sweet and gentle, and she appreciates that, when she tells him to back off about something, he’ll listen to her wishes. (I’m using movie Anakin as my base here bc TCW!Anakin in this regard is just…. bad y’all lmao)

Anakin’s anxious about Ahsoka All The Time. He’s afraid he’s a bad teacher, he’s afraid he’ll mess her up somehow, he’s afraid he’ll hurt her or she’ll get hurt, and that’s why he can’t stand the idea sometimes of her being on her own. It’s not a lack of trust in her abilities, but because he feels responsible for her, and that’s why he’s always ready to put himself between her and literally anything that could potentially hurt her. (Even if it’s not a physical threat.)     - There are times she finds this amusing and times this makes her angry, but mostly she is long suffering. There are times she appreciates it though, bc she’s still a kid and isn’t always sure which way is up, especially when in a war. Anakin is often a cornerstone for her, and though she’d literally NEVER admit it, his overprotectiveness can sometimes be a reassurance. She knows she can handle herself just fine, but when she has an inkling of doubt, she’ll remind herself that Anakin will be there, and then go and take care of the problem herself.     - She doesn’t always get his moments where he’s not always falling over himself to talk Obi-Wan up or go out of his way to sass at him. To her, they have a wonderful relationship and she rarely notices when Obi-Wan might say something that pokes at Anakin wrong, so she often just winds up ???? when Anakin is huffy or annoyed with her grandmaster.     - She sees Anakin’s anger issues a little more easily than others, and she worries about it but always brushes it off or downplays it, bc she always sees why he’s angry, and also always just assumes (like everyone else) that he can Handle It.     - Anakin’s recklessness and impulsivity are some of her favourite things about being his padawan. He’s literally never boring to be around, and Ahsoka needs that sort of excitement to sometimes push aside the knowledge that she’s literally in a warzone. Anakin’s also really good at doing this intentionally; he’s literally always worrying after her, and all he wants to do is take care of those he loves and make them happy, so sometimes he’ll be Extra just to get under her skin or distract her and honestly this is the basis of where their playful competitions always come from.

If Ahsoka is long suffering, Rex is doubly so. Sometimes it’s all he can do to keep up with Anakin and Ahsoka, but he appreciates Anakin “thinking outside the box”. He also appreciates knowing that Anakin is just as loyal to him and his men as he himself is (well… Anakin is until he isn’t lmao)     - Rex, like Pads, is really good at picking up Anakin’s moods and even trains of thought, so he’s always able to work around that, or even see where Anakin’s mind is going when coming up with a plan. They make a really good team bc while Anakin can jump from one idea to another without them seemingly correlated, Rex immediately follows Anakin’s leaps and they just end up in sync.     - That being said, Anakin can be really confusing at times. His moods are often so all over the place, that Rex generally has no idea what tf is going on. He deals with it by learning to be calm when Anakin’s unable to, and just ride out Anakin’s worst moods until they pass by, learning not to let it all phase him. Anakin lowkey hates it when he’s upset, but once the worst of it passes, he really appreciates that Rex will just… not press like Obi-Wan, or balances out the moments Anakin’s mind is so cluttered by instead just keeping a good focus on things.

Probably everyone’s most baffling symptom of Anakin’s is his paranoia. Obi-Wan kind of sees it the most, because Anakin is always testy with the Council and often feels put on the spot, dismissed and looked down upon. To everyone else, they don’t get where Anakin’s ideas come from, bc everything seems chill on their end. His fretting about others’ well-being is straightforward enough, but his instant panic-turned-anger shift when he receives any criticism (especially the perceived type) always gives people whiplash. It’s hard to keep up with, hard to see what it was that got to him so much, and hard to know how to help (particularly when they’re worried that trying to help him will feel like “taking sides”).     - Ahsoka takes Anakin’s POV of the Council pretty easily, at least when it comes to him. This is mostly bc she’s not there when there’s a meeting or tension around them, nor was she there when Anakin first arrived, so she just assumes they must genuinely often have issues with him too. She doesn’t see it to the extent Anakin does though, but she recognizes that sometimes he seems to blow things out of proportion when he’s upset, and figures it’ll just blow over once he’s calmed down.     - Pads, on the other hand, is always kind of aware of Anakin’s fears of losing her. He often not-so-subtly looks for reassurances that she loves him and won’t leave him, that she’s feeling alright or not angry/annoyed with him. She chalks it up to his trauma with his mother (and she’s partially right), so even when sometimes it gets on her nerves that he seems to doubt her so much, she tries to remind herself of that and let it go. 

Those closest to him can pick up that Anakin tends to see the negative in things, and is generally really hard on himself. They try to help out by giving praise where it’s due and just overall Being There, but it’s Rough to know they often don’t get through. (Palps, on the other hand, knows how to weaponize this.) 

The saddest part is that I don’t think anyone once thought Anakin was Seriously Ill, partly out of ignorance, partly bc they assumed it had to do with his age/upbringing, and partly bc, eventually, everyone was dealing with trauma and even if someone wanted to send Anakin back to the Temple to have a nap or something, they legit couldn’t bc there was a war going on and he also would never have tolerated it at that point in time.     - Obi-Wan’s the one who worries about all of this the most, because he’s always felt such a huge responsibility for Anakin and loves him a lot, he’s just never fully been able to understand how to get on the same wavelength as Anakin.     - Anakin, too, actually never fully figures out that there is something Going On. Everything’s always overwhelming him and even though he prefers doing things at 100mph, sometimes it seems like there is Too Much going on, and even during peace times it just felt like he couldn’t keep up with everything. He hates internal reflection but also can’t stop overthinking about everything, and so he just ruminates and goes in circles and often just ends up going nowhere when it comes to dealing with things. He tries his hardest all the time, he is ALWAYS trying, but doing stupid stunts, fighting droids, making robots and speeding everywhere all the time is truthfully only a bandaid.     - Being surrounded by those he adores and receiving affection from them/seeing them happy boosts his mood a lot but he doesn’t have enough self-awareness to guess at why his happier moods just won’t last.     - Sometimes he can figure out when he’s being irrational and then just takes it out on himself, which only exacerbates his bad episodes. 

Palpatine doesn’t help. He’s abusive, manipulates Anakin all the time and is the Worst and definitely makes everything Anakin is struggling with harder and I think we should all just punt him into a sun thank you this isn’t a headcanon I just want everyone to know how much I hate him

[faebriel]

ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

-

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

[random-mha-thoughts]

Bully Part 2 (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff, slight angst, Baku-having-feelings-and-being-soft (bc that's totally a genre)

Sequel to Bully (part 1)

Word count: 2,319

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: This ended up being longer and slightly more emotional than I expected.  Seems like I’m following the trend of getting the BNHA boys to say what’s really on their minds (I’ve already done this for Todoroki in case you were wondering), so Baku will be ooc and soft here.

This came out later than I intended because...let’s just say I was having a mental breakdown over a really long and really naughty Todo fic here and I ended up calling my little cousin and crying and laugh-crying and shaking and losing my collective mind because none of my friends would know what I was going through.  And I was in no headspace to write fluff afterwards, she had to force fluff headcanons into me to go back to normal.  Yall should thank her.  Enjoy~

None of us had any idea how or why Bakugou suddenly started acting this way.  Apparently, he was completely normal until I walked in.  All I did was open the door to the classroom, my gaze just so happened to land on Bakugou, and suddenly I heard loud stomps towards me.

I held out a defensive hand, ready to shoot out branches at him if he got too close.  "Bakugou-" I threatened.  And he did the unthinkable.  He gripped me in a choke hold around my shoulders and neck.

Actually, no.  He...hugged me?

My clenched fists and the hush that fell over the rest of the students told me this is the first time all day he's done something out of character, something I definitely wasn't expecting.  We hadn't talked since I almost jumped out of a window last week.  This entire week, he was ignoring me.  I was preparing for the day he would finally confront me, and I pictured it would be an aggressive encounter.

This is far from anything I'd imagined.

I never ever thought this porcupine-head could even show affection, that he even has a single gene of softness in him.  Yet he was embracing me tightly, nuzzling his face in my neck.  The shock of it all made me freeze up and cast a sideways glance at Midoriya, who was just as freaked and confused.

"Get off, Bakugou, what are you-"

The boy lifted his head up, his scarlet eyes softened into fondness and a gentle smile on his lips made the rest of my words catch in my throat.  This entire expression was foreign to all of us.  His face can look like that?

"I missed you over the weekend."

My jaw dropped.  HIS VOICE CAN SOUND LIKE THAT??  The smooth and sweet honey tone was way out of character for him.

But like hell I trusted any of this.

I wiggled my arms up to push his weight off me.  "I don't know how you managed to become such a great actor," I succeeded in separating from his vice grip, "But if you think disorienting me like this can be some sort of revenge, you're sorely mistaken."

Bakugou tilted his head, resembling a sad puppy.  "What do you mean?"

I straightened my uniform.  "Nice try, I know you're just acting so you can, like, throw me off the building or something."

That seemed to hurt him, his jaw gaping open before holding my face in his calloused hands.  "I'd never do that to you."

I quickly swatted his hands away, wary that he was about to blow my face off.  "Don't. Touch. Me."

The boy froze in place, then rubbed the back of his neck.  Regret seeped through his eyes as he stared at the ground.  "I'm sorry, about everything."

A strange warmth rushed through me.  Something about how genuinely vulnerable he looked shook my entire being.

"I just...really wanted you to give me a chance all this time, but I went about it the wrong way."  He encased me into another bone-crushing hug.  "But I want to make up for it."

I felt a thud in my chest,  probably from fear that he might hurt me.

At that moment, the teacher walked in.  "Alright everyone, take your seats."  He noticed Bakugou's position, gawked for a second, and cleared his throat.  "Uh, Bakugou, let go of (L/n) and take your seat."

"I dare any of you extras to yank me off, I'll blast you into next week!"

He's back, kind of?

Nobody made a move to do anything, they were all frozen by the sight of Bakugou clamped onto me like a koala.

"I'll survive...somehow," I assured them, unsure myself how exactly I would do that.

For the entire rest of class, the boy clung onto me.  He had taken over the seat of the person who normally sat on my left and scooted the chair over so he can stay attached to me.  Though I reasoned for him to hold onto just my arm (since he wouldn't let go no matter how many times I asked), he hugged my waist with both of his arms, face buried in my neck.  I was just glad he left one arm for me to write notes with.

If this was just an act, he did a splendid job of keeping it up.  I thought he would've given up after an hour or two, but he stayed like that even after lunch until the end of the day.  Anytime anyone would even walk past us, he would glare at them until they scurried off.

It was super weird at first, but I got used to the arrangement somehow.  I hate to admit it, but I even felt comfort by his warmth.  His breath tickled my neck as his solid arms held me in a vice grip.  I found myself hoping this wasn't acting, and thanking whatever miracle made this happen.  This was never going to happen again, I might as well enjoy it for now.

.

"Back off, you damn Deku!"  He bares his teeth at the cowering Midoriya, still attached to me at the hip.

I sigh, finally fed up with this whole ordeal.  "Midoriya, I'll handle this, I'll call later."

The poor broccoli boy nods and scampers away from us.  Bakugou insists on not letting go until I'm home safe, even when I repeated that I live in the opposite direction as him.  He won't even let Midoriya near me.

I lead us both over to a bench outside of school.  I'm still not convinced that this isn't an act, but I might as well try to talk to him after the incident last week.  "Get off," I order, scooting over to one side of the bench.  When he doesn't obey, I add, "I wanna talk, so I need to see your face."

After a brief moment of hesitation, he eases off my body, rolling up to sit facing me with a leg propped up on the seat.  A dumb smile is on his face.

God, that still freaks me out.  I stare at him calculatingly.  He hasn't said a word to me the whole day, only barking at other students as he holds onto me.  I want answers.  "You're sure this isn't some stupid revenge plot to get back at me?"

He shakes his head, propping his arm up on the seat and resting his head there.  His wordless, lovestruck stare probing me.

I sputter, "Why are you acting this way then?"

"I like you."

I almost choke at his quick response, my chest throbbing again.  "S-Stop looking at me that way, I can't take you seriously!  I admit, it's freaking me out!"

"My feelings freak you out?" he says sweetly, brushing the side of my face softly.

I slap his hand away, "You don't have feelings for me, just drop the act already!"

His smile disappears.  "It's not an act, I'm being serious."  Hurt laces his voice.

I cross my arms over my chest.  "Yeah, well, it's very hard to take you seriously when you've been a heartless, pompous, mean jerk for all of middle school."

Bakugou's eyes downcast and his arm falls into his lap.  "I...I don't know how else to show how I feel."  Raw emotion drips from his eyes as he bites his lip, almost like he's gathering his thoughts.  "I act like a jerk because...  I just feel so pressured.  Everyone expects so much of me just because my quirk is so strong."  A dark chuckle emits from him, "Even my mom has ingrained it in me that I need to be strong so I don't burden anyone with being weak.  So I've been projecting my frustrations onto everyone else.  Deku is just the easiest person to pick on because he's the weakest person, he has no quirk!  And I'm just self-centered because I have to tell myself that I'm strong or else...I might slip.  Call it an inferiority complex, I guess."

I won't lie, I didn't go into this expecting a therapy session.  Part of me does sympathize with him, but the rational side of me is still skeptical of this entire monologue being an act.  I wouldn't put it past him for thinking up such an elaborate plan in a week.  And none of it excuses him for telling Midoriya to kill himself.  "Not that I don't believe you, but so what?" I blurt out.

He grabs my hand in both of his, eyes fully emotional and staring into mine.  "I like you, (Y/n).  I see how kind you are to everyone else, how you've stayed by Deku and supported him this entire time.  I admire you.  You're the kind of person who I know would become a great hero because you always know just what to say to people to make them feel better, not to mention you're so badass too.  And...in a way, there's something in me that wants you to care about an idiot like me, too."

Tightness tugs in my chest.  Damn it, he needs to stop being so emotional, I can't handle it.  "I want to help you, Katsuki, but what you said to Midoriya crossed a line.  I can't overlook that."

His head drops onto our joined hands and his body starts shaking.  "Damnit!" he grits out, "I can't believe I've done so much wrong that the person I like can't even forgive me."

I shut my eyes, not wanting to see him cry.  "Katsuki-"

Bakugou's head snaps up and takes my head between his hands.  "Do you even have the smallest feeling for me?"  His red orbs swim in tears.

A soft spot in my heart persuades me to gently rub the wet trails off his cheeks.  "I'm...not sure."  I won't lead him on, I really don't know how I feel anymore.  It's that I hate him, I don't like the things he says or does.

"Help me, (Y/n)," he practically begs, "I'll become a better person, I promise, but I need you to guide me, please."

This sudden magnitude of emotion other than anger disorients me.  Is this something he's kept locked away somewhere in the recesses of his mind?  I absently nod in agreement against some of my better judgement.

His shaking form steadies as he stares me down quietly.  "Can I...kiss you?" he whispers out of the blue.

My lips slightly part and my eyes widen as he leans into me, softly pressing his mouth against mine.  Our kiss is innocent, as if time just stood still and washed a warm glow on us.  My stomach flips weightlessly, and I gently grip one of his wrists to ground me.  He pulls away just for a moment, letting us linger in the moment and sensation of one another.

His eyes flutter open, facing me with the same loveliness he's showed me all day, before confusion suddenly dawns on him, and then his cheeks color red and he pulls away, almost retreating to the other edge of the bench.

I blink, not sure what just happened, but the tumbling in my abdomen still present.  "Uh...Bakugou...?"

The boy doesn't even want to face me.  "Did I really just do that?" he mutters to himself, the raspy growl that's more characteristic of him returning.

My heart sinks.  "Do you-?"

"Hey, don't look so upset," he glares at me before flushing again.  "I...somehow...know everything I did...  It was me...but it wasn't...really me."

"But everything you said-"

He growls and crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from me.  "Everything I said was true!  I just... I'm surprised I did it, and I was such a pansy about it."

I roll my eyes.  He's back, for real this time.  "Well, if that's the case, I won't hold you accountable-"

"Wait," Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his hair.  "I stand by everything I said, even the whole...thing...about you helping me."  It almost hurts him to say it.

I fold my arms over my chest and stand up.  "You don't have to force yourself to be good if you don't want to.  Things can go back to the way they were."

"I don't want it to!" he yells.  "I'll work at being less of an idiot if it means...that you'll...go out with me."

I examine him, all red-faced and uncomfortable, unable to look me in the eyes.  "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

He stands up and finally garners the courage to look at me again.  "I'm willing.  I'll try hard, I promise."

After thinking it over a moment, I relax my figure and place a kiss on his cheek.  "That's your reward for consciously admitting that you have a problem."

Bakugou's eyes bulge out of his head and I have to suppress my chuckles.  "Will there be more rewards?" he mumbles.

"Only if you really try."  I lean forward, catching him off guard and finally letting out a small fit of laughter.  "You know for most of the day, you were hanging onto me like I was you handbag, now you're shying away from me."

He scratches his burning neck.  "Hey, that wasn't me."

"It was a you that probably showed your deepest darkest wants," I tease, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Sh-Shut up, don't be so smug about it!"  He lightly shoves me away, digging his hands into his uniform pants pocket.  "You're the one asking for it because you liked it, stupid."

"Ah-ah," I hold up a finger like a teacher reprimanding a kindergardener.  "First thing is for you to stop calling people names."

He groans.  "Fine.  (Y-Y/n)."  His cheeks color all over again.

I slip my hand in his and his blush intensifies.  "Was that so hard to do?"

"Shut up," he mumbles softer this time.

He's a fixer-upper, he's still got a lot to learn, but hopefully, he'll get there eventually.

[straycat-writes]

i saw that you write for ikemen vampire as well, so if it's alright with you i was wondering if you could write headcanons for mozart, vincent, comte, and arthur with a depressed/suicidal s/o who's main coping mechanism is humor? like they joke abt suicide a lot + make jokes abt feeling shitty when asked since they dont wanna worry anyone much but their jokes start getting increasingly concerning bc its smth i do a lot lol,, u dont need to do this if ur not comfortable.. thx and love your work!!

anon added: wait fuck i just remembered only three characters for headcanons so just do it for mozart, vincent, and arthur. thank u!

notes: Whaaat, come on, you cannot just do my husband dirty like that, of course I’ll do all four 😆 Before we begin, since everyone experiences stuff like this differently, our experiences might not be exactly the same, so these might not be universal. In any case, I hope you feel better 🥺💕

trigger warning(s): depression, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

He did notice the jokes each time, but at first, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to intervene.

Once was alright, he thought you might just have a different sense of humor. Twice was morbid, but he brushed it off. But thrice was downright worrying, and he was starting to suspect something might be wrong.

He observed you make increasingly dark jokes for weeks on end, and brush off anyone who tried to ask you about them, before he decided that enough was enough.

“What is wrong with you?”

It’s a blunt question, completely tactless, but only because he’s actually quite concerned and doesn’t how else to put it. Nonetheless, it catches you off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). Have you been spending too much time with shitty Dazai again?”

When you don’t say anything, the scowl on his face melts into a concerned frown. He wants to help, he really does, but it’s hard for someone like him to deal with such heavy feelings, whether his own or someone else’s. After all, words have never been his preferred medium of expression.

So, he decides not to use them. Instead, he envelopes you in a long, silent hug. It’s a little stiff, but when you start crying softy on his shoulder, he gives in and pulls you even closer, gently stroking your hair.

Up until then, you had no idea that the stern, ice-cold Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could ever feel so…familiarly warm and soft, with his arms around you.

“I’m not asking you to confess anything, (y/n). I’m not even asking you to tell me anything. I…actually have no idea how to fix any of this, but…Just…know that you don’t have to deal with this on your own.”

Vincent van Gogh

Out of everyone, it would probably take Vincent the least time to notice when something is wrong with you.

The morbid humor is one thing, but what really concerns him is how hollow your laugh has started to sound, and the glazed…empty look you get in your eyes when you think no one is looking.

He notices because he knows what to look for, because he has already seen too much of it, in himself.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, of course, Vincent. Why do you ask?”

“…Why do you think?”

There is a certain look in his eyes, so wistfully sad, as if mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet, and you just know that he knows. There is no use lying to him. In hindsight, you think, you should have known you could hide it from anyone except him.

When a lone tear slips down your cheek, he gently wipes it away and holds your face with both hands, looking into your eyes. To your surprise, and immense pain, his own are glistening with tears too.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“…Because it’s my problem and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

You realize it doesn’t make much sense now when you say it out loud, but you knew he was all too familiar with this complete and utter despair, this emptiness you felt inside of yourself, and you never wanted him to feel it again, even if it was by proxy.

But now, he stands in front of you, hands on either side of your face, and he places a chaste, gentle kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but you realize what he means. I’m here. I understand. You’re not alone.

(note: for those who don’t know, Vincent van Gogh committed suicide at the age of thirty-seven.)

Le Comte de Saint-Germain

He is used to the residents of his mansion having…strange sense of humor and habits, honestly.

Even so, when you make a jest about killing yourself for the fifth time in a row, he can’t help but be worried. There are only two explanations, you either just have a very, very dark idea of humor, in which case there was nothing much he could do except gentle advisory, or there was indeed something very wrong.

He keeps hoping it’s not the latter, but days pass and your jokes keep getting more and more morbid, and any attempts to talk to you about the issue are only met with smooth elusiveness.

“I’m only kidding, Comte. Of course, I’m not going to throw myself off the roof. Probably.”

“…I think we need to talk, ma cherie.”

That sentence in itself is enough to scare anyone half to death, and when you have so much to hide, even more so.

The talk is long and tedious, with quite a lot of repressed emotions involved. On your part, first there is the defensive anger. Of course, there isn’t anything wrong, how dare he imply otherwise? Then there is the desperate denial, because ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’, right? Except, this problem isn’t going away on its own, and you both know that.

Finally, there is the reluctant acceptance, and a lot of crying. Throughout this, he is as calm and collected on the outside as he always is, even when you grip the front of his coat and cry in his embrace. You’re barely holding yourself together, so he needs to be your support.

But on the inside, there is a storm raging. You were supposed to be his responsibility. He was the one who brought you here, and he was just watching you wither away like this in front of his eyes? What kind of a person did that make him? Just how much of a failure is he?

“I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, ma cherie. I have failed you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I was supposed to protect you from everything, including yourself. Evidently, I have failed at that, and my heart aches at the thought of you suffering all on your own. But I intend to rectify my fault a thousand times over.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, and without a warning, more tears spill.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Peculiar taste of humor is kind of Arthur’s brand. He enjoys his shamelessly perverted jokes, so he assumed you enjoy your dark ones.

Even so, he does get a little worried when he notices how your first instinct to almost anything is self-deprecation and jokes about killing yourself at the slightest provocation, and how you laugh a little too loud and too much when asked about any of it.

The more he notices, the more concerned he gets, and the more confused about just what to do about it.

At first, he tries to deflect your morbid jokes with some of his own, just to see how you would react. But the moment he talks of killing himself, you go pale, asking him to stop with such distress in your voice that he ends up feeling guilty.

But even after that, it doesn’t stop you from doing it yourself.

“Welp, guess I’ll just go drown in a river somewhere.”

“Ahahaha, but consider this, how about you…don’t?”

He’s always so playful, and even fickle that it almost slips your mind that he is a writer, after all, and a very observant one at that. He is intelligent and notices every little thing, even if he doesn’t show it. That includes the fact that your laugh has been sounding more and more empty lately, your smile seeming more and more like fake plastic.

So, when he confronts you about it, it takes you by surprise.

“Whatever do you mean, Arthur? I’m fine.”

“Right…Stop lying to me, (y/n).”

You frown. You should have known how hard it would be to hide anything from Arthur for too long. How long did you really think you could keep up this façade? The realization comes like a slap to the face, and it’s almost like your metaphorical mask drops. You start crying.

He is distressed at the sudden turn of events, but tries his best to console you. As he hugs you to his chest, gently rubbing soothing circles on your back, he wonders if he could have done something to help you sooner.

“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t claim to know what you’re going through, but I do know that you need help. I know I cannot just fix whatever…this is, but I can promise that I’m going to be here with you, through everything”

You laugh bitterly, “It gets ugly.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I’m going to be here with you, whether you want me to be or not, and I promise to hold you together as you scream your throat raw trying to hold yourself together, promise to…stand by you as you save yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”

He kisses you softly, only for a moment, soft and true on the lips.

“Show me every dark and hideous, every bitter thing about your soul…and then, let me love you anyway.”

[fairycosmos]

i think someone else already told you something like this but honestly they were right and your anons didn't seem to get it. dont even bother writing those long ass motivational? posts to ppl bc you aint even believe in them yourself. you yourself have said nothing can be done against addiction, that suicide is the only option you should be choosing, nothing can fix anything etc so ? your motivational words have no value. and you are right about everything else. 100% just quit the positive shit

did you read my response to that anon? dude i am not going to sit here and tell ppl who are often in a very fragile mental state that their life is worthless. i'm a stranger on the internet, i cant pass any sort of strong judgement on their existence like that anyway. and i'm not going to confirm the fears, or reaffirm the thoughts, that their mental illness is convincing them of either. i don't care if it's hypocritical. i struggle w my own mental illness and i know the ins and outs of my own life very well, so i am able to speak on my own future and self in a way i can't for others. my personal posts do not apply to every single person's situation, they literally only pertain to me. and idk if you've misunderstood something i said, but i absolutely do think help is available when it comes to addiction and mental illness. as long as the individual is in a place where they are truly able to admit to what's going on and commit to their treatment. i have felt suicidal, that doesn't mean i encourage it as an option for everyone else. notice i'm still here? notice it's not as simple as absolutely loving life or offing yourself?

look, i honestly get your point. and i'm really sorry that you're in such pain. but it's not like i'm spouting toxic positivity either. i'm not saying happiness is a state of mind, i'm not saying sadness and anger are useless/unnatural emotions, i'm not saying we all just need to do some more exercise and get a grip. i'm just letting people know that there is an alternative narrative to the one their brain is fixated on when they're in a bad place. i'm just letting them know that help is available and doing what you can with what you've been given is more than good enough. whether or not it's worth it in the end, i genuinely don't know. how could i? my point is they deserve to stick around and see. you can unfollow me if if pisses you off, i completely understand. lately i feel very hopeless and positive words from others feel quite empty. so i get it. maybe you're not in the headspace to hear it. but don't assume it's like that for everyone. being listened to, witnessed in pain and and offered a bit of comfort can mean a lot to some people, even if that's not the case for you. hope things feel less heavy for you soon.

[jpegjade]

Void - Spencer

I’ve weighed whether or not to put this one out there. i’ve spent a day just sitting on it, editing, and rewriting some parts. i decided to put this out there bc i realize that i have friends here who go through the same things i do and it might help them. so to all my friends out there, old, new, or the ones i have yet to meet, i’m sorry we’re in this but i’m happy we’re in this together. 

Warnings: Okay so i will say this now and i mean it: if you are struggling with depression and feel uncomfortable during any point in this fic, do. not. read. the. rest. i tried to scale back a little bit bc i wrote it when i was having a really bad time (and probably still having that time rn lmao) so i didn’t include details and it’s a little bit ambiguous but it’s dealing with a hard topic: hopelessness and suicidal ideation. like i said, nothing graphic and no details but it is suggestive and real. so no fluff. 

__________________

The world is such a dark fucking place. There’s nothing good in the world. There’s nothing good for you to experience anymore. The world was a dark, tar colored hell. 

Nothing brought you joy. You could fake it so well on the surface, pretending the world was in color for you. The only colors you experienced were void of emotion, void of feeling, just void. The world around you was void of joy, happiness. There was nothing you wanted more than to escape. Any version of a sweet release would be perfectly fine. Something that you could deal with, some way to deal with the world. 

“Hey.” Spencer said, bringing you out of your thought bubble haze. He walked through the door, gripping his satchel.

“Hmm? Hey baby.” You plastered a fake smile on your face just for him. 

Spencer knew you were going through a rough time but he didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He didn’t know you had written notes for each of your family members and Spencer. He didn’t know that you thought about the easiest way to go, what required the most courage and the least amount of energy. He didn’t know you were scared to leave. 

“You look tired. Have you had a nap today?” He said, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

“No, I’m okay. Just tired in general, I guess.” You said, watching him put his bag down. 

He came over to sit next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. He smelled like fall. You wondered if you would miss that, if you would miss him. Would you miss anything?

“Well, maybe we can relax together? Take a nap, watch a movie?” He looked down at you, stone faced as ever. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You said, staring off into the distance. Everything seemed to be off in the distance for you, all of it. The future, the past, now. It all seemed so far away from you. The world seemed so far away from you. 

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like you’re all the way here.” Spencer said, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m just tired. Maybe I will take that nap with you.” You put on another fake smile, getting up to get something to drink from the kitchen. Everything was so exhausting, even Spencer. 

You hated that you felt that way. You loved Spencer with every part of you, you never wanted to let him go. But you just wanted to take off, go somewhere, escape. That’s all you thought about: escaping. 

“Hey, y/n? I’m going to get changed out of these clothes.” Spencer called, hoping you heard him. In one ear and out the other, just like everything else he said lately. 

You always felt so bad when it came to Spencer. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t deserve to go through this. You didn’t want him to deal with you anymore but any time you brought it up to him, he promised you weren’t a burden. He always promised you weren’t a burden but you knew, deep down, that he was lying. He was lying to you in exchange for your lies to him, pretending you’re happy when you’re miserable. The two of you were lying to each other and to yourselves. He knew you weren’t okay but wanted to believe otherwise. You knew Spencer was attached to you but you pretended he was detached from your relationship. 

“Baby? Come lay with me?” Spencer called, being needy. You loved when he was needy when you felt well. When you were feeling good, you loved the fact that he was open to show a type of emotion, even after all he went through. 

“Only for a little while.” You called back, downing half a glass of water really quickly. 

You climbed into bed, curling into his lap in bed. He liked when he could hold you just as much as he liked being held. You sat there silently, annoyed with the fact that anyone was touching you right now. All you wanted was to disappear. 

“Can we talk?” Spencer mumbled. 

“Yeah, sure.” You really did try to sound upbeat but in the end, you weren’t able to do it. 

“How are you really doing? And please don’t lie... “ Spencer said, sighing. 

“Spence…” You just wanted everything to go away, just like this conversation. 

“Look, I know I can’t fix this. I have been looking for ways to make this better for you because you are suffering and I see it every day. I can’t… I don’t know how to stop it and I’m scared that you’re going to do something that I really can’t fix.” He said, slowly. 

“There’s no way to stop this.” You said, flatly. “You can’t stop it and neither can I. I’m beyond help. The meds don’t work. The therapy doesn’t work. The coping mechanisms dont fucking work and I’m so damn tired.” You said all that without emotion and it scared Spencer. 

These days, you scared Spencer more than any murderer did. His greatest fear was losing you and he fought to keep his head straight because he knew he had you. All this time, he knew he had you and it was terrifying him to think that you could be gone today, tomorrow, the day after that and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Could he?

“You can’t leave… Not like this…” Spencer said, trying to rack his brain of different responses that might help you. He couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t selfish, on his part. 

Everything he had to say was selfish. It was all about how he didn’t want you to go, how he would feel, how he would be affected when you were gone. Everything he thought of was about him and that frustrated him. He just wanted to help you, not try to guilt you into anything by making it about how he feels but… 

“Spencer, there’s no point. Okay? There’s no point in going through the motions anymore. I am in so much pain on the inside, nothing fills it. I am so tired. I feel alone constantly. I feel like there’s nothing left for me here. I am broken. I am broken. I am broken.” You started crying but you weren’t sure why. 

Spencer just pulled you close to him, feeling your body shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness or if you were just cold but your body wasn’t still. 

You tried to get up, get away from him, run, but he held you tighter. You just wanted to get out of that room, get out of your skin, get out of existence but Spencer wouldn’t let you. He just held you close and rubbed your back. 

“I can’t make you stay. I can’t give you this fake positivity. I won’t guilt you into staying. If you want to do this, it’s ultimately up to you. But what I can do is tell you that I love you. I loved you when I got to know you. I love you now. I will love you no matter what you decide to do.” Spencer said. He sounded so fragile, like he was going to break at any moment. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Spence.” You said, numbly. “All I know is that I can’t live like this. I can’t survive like this. I wasn’t built to survive this and I’m so scared of what comes next…” 

There was a silence and you heard Spencer sniffle. He was truly at a loss for words. How could he miss that it was this bad? He was a profiler. He knew that everyone had an end game but he couldn’t tell if your endgame was leaving him or not, leaving this world or not. So he just sniffled and stayed quiet, trying to hold everything back. 

“Spencer?” 

“Hmm?” He responded, nervous. 

“What’s the easiest way to go? I’ve done research but… I wanted to ask my smartass boyfriend.” You chuckled and it turned sour. It wasn’t funny but it was a reflex. 

“Can we please not talk about this? I want to help you get better. I want to use all my energy trying to figure out how to help you feel like living is worth it. I don’t want to think about finding you…” Spencer’s voice caught in his throat. 

“Would you miss me?” You whispered, staring blankly at the wall feet in front of you. 

“Y/n…” Spencer paused. Your automatic thought was that he was going to pull bullshit out of his ass so you could feel better. You sighed, prepared for something generic. 

“You don’t realize the effect you have on people, on me. The world is so dark to you because you are a beacon of light. You are the lighthouse in everyone’s storm. That’s why everyone comes to you, looking for hope. You are a shining light and everyone sees it but you. Your world is dark because you look out and see nothing but the darkness, nothing but the storm.” 

Spencer’s breath wavered and you felt his thumb start moving across your thigh. He was nervous and fidgety, hoping he said the right words. 

“I miss you every moment I leave for work. I miss you on trips. I miss you at the office. I miss you whenever you’re not holding my hand. I miss you when you’re at work, when you can’t talk to me. I miss you. So yes, I would miss you if you weren’t here for me to come home to. And I know that might be comforting for a moment but at the end of the day, it’s not about me. It has never been about me. This is about whether or not you have the will to stay, whether or not you want to be here.” Spencer’s heart raced. 

“I guess you’re right.” You said, growing tired. You had a lot to think about.

[theaspers]

you feel like home | satan x reader

a/n: i’m too lazy to finish this but i got lazy towards the end so here, you can have it. college au so everyone’s human here but u will find i rarely ever write satan’s name and that’s only bc it’s so weird to write it and think about how in this au a set of parents thought naming their child satan is ok lol. this will be the only time u see me use a post divider bc it’s that messy.

here is how it usually is:

satan wakes up with a start. his breathing is heavy, every gasp sounding terribly like it might be his last, and his eyes are wild. this isn’t fear because he is not afraid. he is never afraid. rather, it is anger. anger at himself, at his brothers, at anyone and everyone who has ever wronged him before. fiery red and burnt orange, anger in all possible forms and shapes and sizes, rolling off of him in waves.

there is not many places in which he finds respite from the barrage of emotions he constantly feels. but when you wake up, bleary-eyed and groggy, and say nothing, waiting with the utmost patience for him to return. when you wrap an arm around his shoulders, careful and cautious. when you tug him down and hum a little tune under your breath that lulls him back to sleep. it’s as close to one as he’ll ever get, he thinks.

for a fleeting second, he thinks about telling you of his feelings. vomit it all out so he doesn’t have to sit any longer with the uncomfortable feelings that’s been bubbling at the pit of his stomach for far too long. but your fingers are too gentle as they press against his still-pounding heart, and your eyes are too tender as they meet his own. there’s an unusually bright beam of moonlight spilling across your features from the gap between the curtains and it makes you look as dazzling as ever. it wouldn’t be right to ruin such a beautiful moment, he thinks, to ruin such a beautiful person with all of whatever he is. so he doesn’t.

repeat and recycle.

you are kind. with him, you’ve managed to practice this weird balance of confident indifference and empathy that just works for him. it’s never been like that before. not when he’d lost his parents but had felt relieved instead of the expected grief. not when his sister had died and had taken along with her a good portion of everyone’s soul. not when he’d finally just upped and left because the tension in the house was getting too much for him to bear.

he has no parents, he told you once, a long time ago. a green haze of disgust had curled around him and eyes steaming, rolling and boiling. the grip he had on the stack of papers he’d been flicking through caused ripples across the filled pages. you know this fact, clever enough to have gathered as much from how much he soured whenever parents were mentioned, but he had never outright admitted it.

“you’re ruining my notes,” you’d said to him instead of the pity he is all too familiar with. there had been a deep furrow between your eyebrows, displeasure in your frown, “i worked extremely hard on that.”

it had been relief, looking back now, that had filled him up to the brim. his heart had felt full, but not in the bad way - always in the good way with you - and he’d felt unburdened for once. he looked at you then, eyebrows raised. where he thought there would be anger, there was only amusement. he’d only known you for a handful of months but somehow he’d expected as much from you. and it’s comfortable.

“the world’s full of awful, terrible people who shouldn’t be parents,” you’d pointed at him with an opened highlighter pen, waving the neon tip in his direction, “doesn’t mean you’re awful or terrible too.”

huh.

“and it certainly doesn’t mean i want to spend my whole afternoon talking about them,” your frown turned into a scowl as you reached over the tabletop filled with textbooks and worn notebooks and loose papers, “give those here if you’re not gonna treat them right.”

light laughter spilled out of his lips as he pulled the notes away. you were kind. too kind. looking back, that must have been the start of it all.

you’re curled up in a hoodie, crumpled up on the sofa in a way he’s sure is not good at all for your posture but he’s long given up trying to chastise you over it. face smooshed against the arm of the chair, a textbook draped open over your chest in a way that makes him wince, you looked positively ridiculous. ignoring the pang of fondness, he nudges you with his knee.

“come on,” he says, closing the textbook and putting it aside, “let’s get you to bed.”

you groan but are otherwise easily coaxed into bed, curling into his side as he lead you to your room. the fondness magnifies immensely. that you’d spent the better half of yesterday revisiting old topics and making notes which is why you’re so tired right now is somehow endearing to him. he brushes his lips against your forehead as he watches you settle into bed. if he spends a bit more time lingering at the door, no one would know.

he doesn’t want to say it’s because of you but you did play a big part in it. he talks more to his brothers now and it’s, well, good. it’s the distance and the fresh air too, maybe.

he doesn’t have parents but he does have 6 brothers, he’d admitted one quiet night. the two of you had been lying on your backs, the clear night sky spread out over your figures, gorgeous swirls of different shades of blacks and dark blues with specks of bright diamond jewels. 6 brothers and a sister who had passed and had taken a piece of all of them with her.

“oh.” you’d said but you already knew about his brothers because he’d told you. not so much in stories, of course, but through bits and pieces he’d mentioned here and there. beel likes that snack, he would tell you and so you’d tell him to send some to him. asmo’s been talking to him about a brand new make up collection that’ll be released soon and so you’d tell him that you’ll keep an eye out. but the thing about his sister - that’s new.

the hurt is still there even though it’s been a long time now. raw pain as if his chest is dangerously exposed and someone’s gone ahead and ripped his still-beating heart out of him. he has yet to find that heart, it seems. it still hurts but ever since he’d left, he’s been able to breathe a bit better. see past the green and grey cloud that hovered over him and his brothers when he’d been at home.

“that one’s orion,” you’d murmured, and he knows it’s just you trying to digest his words, trying to figure out a good response, “people use that one to find other stars too, did you know that?”

he did, in fact. but still, he’d watched, quiet as you pointed out a few others. your eyes are wonder-filled, the twinkle brighter than anything else in the sky, and it had left him breathless. the tightness around his throat had loosened. southeastward and there is sirius, you’d said, in awe and in love. from rigel to betelgeuse, there is gemini - the stars castor and pollux.

“it must be stuffy to be immortalised like that, huh?” you’d turned him then, meeting his eyes, smile gentle, “always expected to be same. unchanging. must be suffocating.”

a stray chuckle leaves him, weak.

“just let it happen,” you told him afterwards and he’d wanted to laugh even more because it shouldn’t be that easy to absolve him of everything he’s been feeling but it had been. “all i’m saying is that you don’t need to feel guilty anymore.”

“talk to them,” you suggested, no hesitation, letting him lean against you, “they lost a sister too, you know?”

there’s a lecture that he has to attend in about an hour but you’re still snoring away on your side of his bed and it’s so tempting to join you in sweet slumber. you don’t have classes until later on so you’re good but he’ll be late if he dallies for any longer.

but he can’t seem to pull himself away from you. so he takes this in, the absolute mess in the morning. listens to your steady breathing. savours the moment and keeps it close. a beautiful solace that he’ll allow himself for when he needs the reprieve.

“ha,” there’s a smug curl to your lips, eyelids fluttering open as if knowing that he’d been starting, “nerd. go to class.”

he rolls his eyes. he could always count on you to ruin a tender moment.

“you should get one for lucifer,” the words barely leave your mouth before you’re laughing, from a tiny little snicker to full blown laughter, “for- for cerberus.”

the hand that’s holding out your phone for him to see the page full of ugly little suit for dogs shakes wildly. he scowls at the mention of his eldest brother and you laugh even more, setting down your utensils in favour of rubbing the tears that have sprung up in the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.

“are you going back for the break?” you ask once you’ve calmed down, reaching over to pull his plate of pie closer to yourself. you pick up your fork once more, digging into the soft pastry.

he curls his nose at the prospect of going back home, “unfortunately.”

“unfortunately,” you parrot playfully, rolling your eyes. “yeah, okay.” 

“it’s been a long time coming anyways,” you grin around the mouthful of pie, “they miss you, i think. and don’t tell me you don’t miss them too.”

he sighs, shakes his head as he tugs his plate back over to his side. he knew he shouldn’t have given asmo your phone number. he would never attest to the happiness that blooms in chest. no one would be able to prove it, anyways.

here’s how it is now:

he reels you into a hug as he’s about to leave for back home. he feels as light as a feather, and he has to admit, he’s a bit...excited. when the two of you break apart, he says thank you and gives you an earnest smile. he has to suppress his laughter when feels the way you shudder in his arms.

something’s changing. and change is, well, good. in most cases. and this is one of those cases. it’s good. he’s not afraid, he tells you, he’s never afraid. there is no fear. no anger. just adoration and fondness. for you.

and so he decides in that moment - when he gets back, he’ll let you know.