#and also i wish i could invite all of you!!

[finelinevogue]

bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

[nuttersincorporated]

Some of you have only watched The Muppet Christmas Carol, not read the original story and it shows. I LOVE The Muppet Christmas Carol! It is be far the best movie adaptation of A Christmas Carol but the original story is still superior.

Listen, you can’t compare Scrooge to modern CEOs. He was ALWAYS better than them, even at the start of the story where he’s a jerk. No, Scrooge did not need to see people happy at his death before he was willing to change.

Seriously, the story is public domain and not that long. There are free versions online to read and/or listen to.

The original story does a better job of showing how Scrooge became the man he was and how the Ghosts helped him change for the better.

In the book, young Scrooge was basically abandoned at school by his father, who was a cruel man. He was the only child left at school over Christmas, so never had the chance to celebrate it. He read fairy tales and dreamed of mythical characters.

When old Scrooge saw his younger self alone at Christmas, he thought about a boy who’d been carolling at his door earlier. He wished he’d been kinder to that child.

One year, his younger sister Fran (the one family member who ever truly loved and who he loved) came to pick him up. She said their father had changed for the better and he could come home. His younger self was overjoyed.

Scrooge used to love the Fezziwig Christmas Party. The Ghost of Christmas Past pointed out that it wasn’t a very expensive party but Scrooge said that wasn’t the point. It was kind and fun and… oh, suddenly he wished he could have a word with his own employee.

Scrooge used to love Bell but became more and more money focused so she left him.

When the Ghost of Christmas Present came along. Scrooge learned how wonderful Christmas could be. He saw people being kind, even though they gained nothing from it. He saw people in need and realised he had the power to help them. He had his own cruel words thrown back at him and realised how horrible they were.

When they went to Fred’s Christmas party, Scrooge had a wonderful time. He didn’t even take officen when – in the guessing game – Fred referred to him as an ‘unwanted animal’. He could tell it was all in fun and that Fred was serious when he said he really wished Scrooge would accept his invitation one of these days.

By the time the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come came along, Scrooge had already decided to become a better person.

Scrooge didn’t immediately make the connection between himself and the dead man everyone hated because he assumed that his future self was off somewhere else doing good deeds. He kept looking around for his future self, to see what good he was doing. It was only at the graveyard he realised this was what his future would have been if hadn’t already made the decision to change.

TL;DR the last ghost might be needed for modern CEOs. However, I doubt all three together would make a difference because they are worse than Scrooge. Also, while the last ghost reenforced things, Scrooge had already seen the error of his ways and decided to change.

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Merry Sinsmas

Alastor x Reader

Just a little thought I'd like to share with you because I’m in the Christmas mood.

I hope you enjoy reading it and if you celebrate Christmas: I wish you a Merry Christmas. And if you don't: I hope you have a great few days anyway. :)

And to all of you: Merry Sinsmas. :D

Warning: I hope you don't mind that this short story briefly mentions that you are from Germany. If you can't identify with this, just see this sentence as a joke to wriggle out of a situation.

—————————————————————————

You're standing in the hotel lobby with a clipboard in your hand, working through a to-do list. You are in the middle of your Christmas preparations. Charlie and Vaggie are busy decorating the big tree in the centre of the lobby next to the stairs, Niffty is cleaning and judging by her crazy laugh, she's in a very Christmassy mood.

Lucifer is tending to the fairy lights, Husk is making punch for everyone and Angel and Cherri Bomb are getting the sound system ready.

As you stare at your clipboard, thinking about what you could do next, you notice out of the corner of your eye a shadow rise from the floor and stand next to you.

You don't even have to lift your eyes to realise that it's Alastor, standing so close to you that his large body is pressed against you.

You hear a snap of fingers, but you skilfully ignore it.

You're too busy dealing with the fact that the radio demon is invading your comfort zone - as he so often does.

It doesn't take long before he clears his throat meaningfully, inviting you to give him your attention.

So you raise your eyes and suppress your annoyed expression as best you can.

You look at him expectantly. What does he want?

He looks down at you with a mischievous smile. Then he takes a quick look at the ceiling before his eyes wander back to you.

You look up and see a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, obviously conjured up by him.

You sigh slightly.

So he wants to be kissed.

Alastor is really trying everything he can to get to you. You realise that he's been trying to make advances to you for months and win your heart with small - and also very large - gestures.

What you keep to yourself the whole time: He won your heart a long time ago. But you don't want to admit it.

Yes, you fancy Alastor - oh, you're so in love with him!

But your fear of commitment and the fact that he's one of the most dangerous demons here in hell stop you from getting involved with him.

Much to the displeasure of your friends, because the tension between Alastor and you has left its mark on them too and now they really want to see you two as a couple.

"Hahaaaa, there's a little green branch hanging right above us. What funny coincidences there are, aren't there, my dear?" he says euphorically in his radio filter voice.

"Real coincidences, yes," you reply sarcastically and leave it at that. At least that's what you try to do, but there's no way Alastor will let you get away with it.

He steps closer to you - it's hard to believe that's still possible - leans forward slightly and says: "You know I'm a man of tradition. In my day, we followed every custom without even batting an eyelid. It would be a shame for me and my inner well-being if you didn't appreciate my traditions, sweetheart."

You give him a wry, cheeky grin. Then you turn away from him and say: "Well, it's just a shame that I'm from Germany and this mistletoe tradition isn't practised there."

You move away from him and leave him standing there in his indignant static noise.

"OH NO, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Angel suddenly shouts across the lobby. He jumps up from his chair and stomps angrily towards you, grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you back on your heels under the mistletoe, where he sets you down right in front of the radio demon.

He grumbles: "We're not in fucking Germany here, we're in hell! And here ya don't just kiss under the mistletoe, here ya even fuck when ye're standin' under it! So do yerself and us a favour and respect our traditions! Ya kiss that creepy man now, understand?"

[sirxlla]

Spending New Years with the Batboys 🎉

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

Dick: Of course being the social butterfly Dick was he wanted you to both be out and about. Of course being Bruce's son he was invited to several several New Year's Eve parties. This man was a complete Hufflepuff at heart with the way that he just loved people. He had one of those little cone hats on that had the little metallic plastic pieces that would go everywhere on top, putting one ontop of your head as well. He was always wondering about the cliches and everything so of course as everyone around the room counted down... dick pretended to be focused on the countdown as he shouted as well but as soon as it hit that final moment of the new year and abruptly kissed you almost knocking you off your feet at the same time. How could someone so agile, be so clumsy at the same time?

Jason: Already halfway through the night you were drunk as a skunk. This asshole challenge you to be your pong which of course he was a thousand times better at and you had down several several cups of cheap beer. Jason practically had you hanging off of him swearing your words and flirting with him in ways that made absolutely zero sense but also telling him you had a boyfriend? He was laughing his ass off cuz he thought it was just the funniest thing ever.

Bruce: Bruce had some sorta charity gala so he got dressed up all snazzy and he'd bought you this beautiful outfit to wear. Of course his entire night was filled with him having to make speeches because of course everyone in the entire city wants to hear Bruce Wayne speak. As the time got closer to the New Year arriving and he pulled you to the side into an unoccupied area so that he could spend some time with you alone to celebrate this together. The both of you watched the fireworks together in silence standing very close to each other and just enjoying each other's presents silently. As much as you wish Bruce would talk more there was times like this where you were so happy that the both of you could enjoy them and each other without saying anything.

Tim: "No, I promise. I can 100% stay up til then!" The both of you had been up for nearly 72 hours because of crimes and such in Gotham, this man also broke his coffee machine after already having six cups and he was bouncing off the walls like a ping pong ball. The two of you didnt even make it to ten p.m. before the both of you were past out on the couch after crashing. He did pass out before you which prompted your tired self to think it was funny to draw a mustache on his face and a dick on his cheek.

Damian: Damian thought the tradition was interesting but growing up within the League, a new year was still something to celebrate. Even so it was something you did on your own and not something you made a specticle of yourself out of to do it. There were no fireworks, resolutions or large acts of love. Damian never needed a holiday to prove his love, its one of the reasons he hated Valentine's day too. He spent his New Years Eve in the cave sparring with you occasionally and secretly catching his watch. He might not have been into the holiday stuff but he knew you kinda were and he kissed you as soon as his watch turned to midnight.

(Send me prompts, if you'd like <3)

Masterlists

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

for @kultiras🖤

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

YOUR L*ONISMS IN THE MALLEUS POST BYE 😭😭 I tend to try to avoid talking about him precisely bc I fear I'll sound like Leona too lmao. or bc I'm scared ppl will say "ah you only dislike him bc you like Leona"- when that's not the case at all (although I also share some of his views about the lizard) Similarly to you, I just don't get the hype- basically everything you say. my feelings for him fluctuate from "🙄 ok." to "you're okay? I guess?"

which is weird, bc I really like dragons and non-human characters learning about humans. but that's what makes it worse for me bc man all the talk about him made me want to rlly like him and then I saw him in canon and I was like uh... okay? kind of disappointed + a bit annoyed at some stuff. I do like how he talks about gargoyles or things he finds interesting tho— I'll praise you that much, Draconia.

[Referencing this post!]

***PLEASE NOTE: Everything I express in this post is my own opinion and is in no way meant to disparage Malleus enjoyers.***

Leona and Rollo is right about Malleus and he should speak his truth 😔

To reflect a little on my own character arc with Malleus, I felt very neutral about him from the prologue to about book 2ish. This was simply because I hadn't interacted with the guy yet so I held off on judging him prematurely. The brief encounter we actually had with Malleus in book 2 wasn't meaty enough for me to get a sense for his character, so I brushed him off.

I thought it was interesting that book 2's narrative invites comparisons between Leona and Malleus, with Leona being a parallel to Scar, Malleus being a parallel to Mufasa, and the world holding Malleus up as the "superior" king. Lilia states as much in 2-26: "Would that the lion king of the savanna could witness this absolute farce. No, if you ask me, the collar suits you far better than a crown ever could. You may bemoan the fact that you're not higher in line to be king. But with that sensitive ego of yours? That so quickly directs all your petty anger at your retainers... Well, the idea of you ever contending with a REAL king like our Malleus—is absolutely laughable. Even if you COULD defeat Malleus, so long as that's how you choose to conduct yourself? You would never be fit to rule!"

And at the time, yeah, Lilia's right because Leona is very much losing his grip on his emotions and acts irrationally in an attempt to triumph over Malleus. HOWEVER... The longer the main story went on, the more I found myself disagreeing with Lilia's judgment of Malleus and his character. Now, that doesn't mean that I think Leona was in the right for the actions he took in book 2 (they are still and always will be wrong). Rather, I think Lilia gave a somewhat biased take on Malleus and his preparedness for the throne. Many of the things Lilia accuses Leona of also ended up being very true of his own liege. Malleus has a sensitive ego (he has attempted to strike down peers and faceless, magicless NPCs on more than one occasion; ie Halloween events). Malleus has directed his anger at his retainers (as a child, he froze many servants; in book 7, he attacks Sebek and Silver for attempting to wake up their peers and tries to return Lilia to sleep against his wishes). Malleus has scarcely led anyone in anything. Leona and Malleus are far more similar to one another than either of them would like to admit, but Lilia is just assuming that Malleus will be a great leader anyway because of... what? Because of birthright and lineage? Yeah, no wonder why Leona is pissed and has a bone to pick with the lizard (attempt to harm Malleus aside).

Book 3 and onwards is what I started to develop my current dislike for Malleus. (And to be clear, he has good points too! I'm not saying that he has nothing going for him at all; however, this post is focusing on my own critiques of his character so that is what I will be speaking about.) I started to notice things that annoyed me on a personal level: how he lacks consideration of others' perspectives and actively violates their autonomy, how he never gets any repercussions for his actions, how he's aware of his power and status and yet fails to avoid lording it over others, how he has been given so many opportunities to learn and change as a person but refuses those opportunities, etc. And yes, I understand that he acts in these ways for particular reasons. I'm not saying that his behaviors don't make sense, I am only stating that these are behaviors that I personally don't find appealing. (For more extensive explanations of why I don't like Malleus, please see the FAQ section in my pinned post.) All of this in spite of how little of him we actually get to see and interact with, especially in the main story. It baffled me that he was undoubtably the most popular character in EN circles. There's so much chatter about Malleus Draconia, you can't really get away from it. People are legitimately shocked when you tell them you actively dislike Malleus or when they learn that he's not even a top contender for best boy in the JP fandom. The default is assuming that you do like Malleus, which ironically happens to be the same thing that Draconians (Malleus stans in-universe) do. It feels like there's sometimes an unspoken pressure to like the guy. I also started to notice peculiar behaviors (?) which, in a vacuum, aren't necessarily bad--I would just like to comment on them because I find it interesting. With Malleus being as popular of a character as he is, there's of course going to be a lot of online discussion about him, especially from his fans. Now, I don't know if it's only me noticing this, but I've frequently observed Malleus fans going out of their way to "wring as much content" out of the least Malleus-related content possible. For example, there may be a screenshot of some other character posted and then a fan would come in and make a comment like, "I wonder how Malleus would feel about this". A more concrete example would be from the more recent JP Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event; in it, the event character takes the back of all the characters' hands and kisses them (including Yuu). Automatically posts that showed this kissing were inundated with comments about how "Malleus would be so angry about this", even though Malleus himself shows no such reaction. Similar comments dropped when Yuu is kidnapped in the event even though, again, Malleus shows no such anger about the incident. Halloween events such as this contain half the main NRC cast, yet I saw no fans of the other 10 characters claiming those characters reacting jealously. This occurs VERY often in regards to Malleus; even in events or scenes where he doesn't react or doesn't even appear, zealous fans will insert him into the situation or make the situation suddenly about him, whether it's in someone's own posts or on other people's posts.

I wonder if this is a result of Malleus being kept so mysterious for two full years...? Without much of his character to go off of, it left a huge negative space for fans to headcanon, project, and hyperfixate on what he is like or what he could be. And maybe now those behaviors persist in an effort to fill in that void because honestly Malleus isn't getting much screen time within book 7 either 💀

I believe this has contributed to the discrepancy (that this asker brought up) between how the English-speaking Twst fandom speaks about Malleus versus what Malleus is actually like and how he is portrayed in game. The fandom version of him is pretty much always hyped up or sensationalized (sometimes simply for his mere existence), similar to how his own fans in-universe might put him on a pedestal. But then you play the game for yourself and you're exposed to so little of him and what little you do see of him is much more... reserved, somber, and sometimes even petulant, depending on the situation.

Anyway, my point is that anyone that dislikes Malleus (or any other character) should be allowed to dislike him, regardless of what anyone else says or if you feel pressured into silence🤷‍♀️

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

If reader were to be a famous person what would each Oscar Isaac character be like/act like if they knew them and what would they do? Your choice of characters of course ❤️

-anon

This is gonna be wild👀

OI characters with famous reader

Featuring: The moon boys, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Santiago Garcia, Miguel O'Hara, Blue Jones, Basil Stitt, William Tell.

A/n: I did Basil and Steven a bit dirty. Nsfw is only for those two.

Poe Dameron: He is probably going to be a fan of you. Goes to every planet you may have fan meetings and would ask for a picture of you.

Most likely develops a crush on you. Blushes deeply whenever you two have eye contact.

Would send BB-8 to you while watching from a far. If BB-8 brings you joy, Poe's butterflies in his stomach go wild and he feels like he's about to pass out.

Would definitely buy VIP if you offer it.

William Tell: He has his bit fame too, and therefore would apply to become your manager or personal asisstant.

During fan meetings, William has the idea of setting up a Poker table, where fans could go against him. If they win, they could get a free picture with you.

But William is hard to beat, maybe don't expect many people to actually win against him.

Santiago Garcia: Would probably like to be your bodyguard. He definitely has the experience and would exceed at it.

Would always make sure the area is safe and if you have VIP, he would actually check the bags of anyone wanting to meet you.

Most likely gets Benny, William and Frankie as bodyguards for you too. No need for basic bodyguards when you have ex militaries.

Nathan Bateman: Definitely knows about you. Would perhaps apply to be your tech guy, keeping all your devices safe and hack free.

Even likes to design and install his own security system that once triggered, he himself would appear, maybe bring along some of his androids to protect you.

Miguel O'Hara: Miguel pretty much likes you and could apply to be your personal asisstant or PR manager.

Also wouldn't shy away from bodyguard duty. And since he's having spidey senses, people could actually come to meet him too, thus will lead you to get more famous because people know you have Miguel O'Hara.

Blue Jones: Blue sees you as an opportunity for himself to get more famous.

Wants to send you an invite to come to Lennox, and do a fan meeting in his club.

Not that he doesn't like you, but Blue likes fame so he could definitely get used by having you pay a visit. Plus it may lead to more girls wanting to join him...

Basil Stitt: He knew you before his incident, he had a bit of a crush on you. But now with his scarred cheek and embarrassment of it, Basil feelings towards you grew.

It pisses him off knowing he can't meet you in person again, he isn't good at accepting rejection and thinks you will find him ugly.

Basil would continue watching every video of you he can, eating takeout pizza and jerking off after. He wishes he could see you in person again...

Jake Lockley: Jake would definitely apply to be your personal driver. He likes you and a fat paycheck here and there definitely won't hurt.

Though he wouldn't shy away of protecting you, always having his trusty gun with him.

Jake would actually offer taking pictures with him too. Your fans should know who drives the famous you around.

Marc Spector: Definitely has the skills and experience of being your bodyguard. Would walk beside you with his sunglasses and chewing on gum.

Would want nothing more than to keep you safe. Marc can definitely deal with rude fans.

Also would agree to take pictures with your fans if they wanted. Some fame or even money could never hurt him.

Steven Grant: Oh dear... Steven would be... the obsessive fan...

Always goes to your fan meetings, probably has a big crush on you. Would keep any magazine cover and pictures of you stashed in a box.

Steven would also send you fan mail. But he is smart enough to not send... substances...

He isn't that stupid like most obsessive fans would be therefore keeps jerking off in private rather than sending it to you.

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

Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @buckyssugarchick

@krakenkitty @libblesdoodles @tanks606 @yeanika

@mochiitoby @xcherryxmilkx @mooksmouse @autismsupermusicalassassin @silvernight-m

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 16

[Teia has sent new Crow armor, but neither Naimeryn nor, surprisingly, Lucanis, are sure it’s a good fit for her…]

SPOILER WARNING FOR BELLARA’S COMPANION QUESTLINE

CW/TW: suggestive banter

——————————————————————————

“You can come in,” Naimeryn called over her shoulder. “I was going to try this new armor Teia sent but I think it might be… missing… something?”

“Let me see — *mierda*, The Invitation.”

He stopped dead in his tracks as Naimeryn tuned to him, slightly abashed about the deep v, but also he’d sort of seen her naked, so it was fine. Right? Definitely fine.

“The… Invitation?”

“It’s the nickname for that armor, it’s…” Lucanis seemed uncharacteristically flustered. He took a step towards her, hesitated, put his hands on his hips. He shook his head. “I can’t believe Teia thought this was a good idea. No, you know what, actually, I’m not surprised at all.”

“It’s bad?” Naimeryn asked nervously.

“Rook it’s — your whole — do you have any idea how *exposed* — “ he let out a low, frustrated growl as he seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted to use.

WE LIKE IT.

“Thank you, Spite,” Naimeryn smiled slightly. He’d said “we.” She widened her smile to a smirk at Lucanis.

“Spite, do not encourage this,” he sighed. “Your whole rib cage is exposed. Do you know how easily someone could stab you right now?”

Naimeryn made a show of flirtatiously shrugging her shoulder. “If you hate it so much I can just take it off.”

A mischievous sort of smirk she wasn’t used to twirled his lips and he stepped forward, putting one arm out on either side of her to touch the console table, boxing her in as he practically purred, “I’ll call that bluff.”

Naimeryn giggled nervously, but she could barely breathe. His brown eyes burned into hers and her knees felt weak.

“Caught me,” she giggled again, “I really can change though if you prefer.”

“You can wear whatever you like,” he said, very seriously, straightening up slightly so there was even less space between them. Her heart thudded in her ears. “It’s just… There’s a reason it’s good Crow armor. It can distract the target and deliver an opening. I do not think it will have that effect on either Ghilan’nain or Elgar’nan, nor this Anaris we’re to help Bellara dispatch.”

“Does it distract *you*?” She asked, wishing she sounded more teasing and less unsure.

“*Yes,*” his fingers flexed on her hip. “And when I am supposed to be watching your back, distracted is *not* how you want me.”

“But I do *want* you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Shocked by her own boldness, she felt warmth spread across her cheeks — but not the fire she was used to. She couldn’t believe she’d said it… but also, it was true. Creators, but it was true.

Lucanis did not pull away, as she’d feared he might. Instead, he sighed, leaning into her more, their bodies and foreheads pressed gently together. If dying of happiness was a thing, Naimeryn was close to it.

“I know. And I… I *do* want you, Rook.”

“But?” She asked softly, letting her hands trail slowly up his arms, then resting them on his shoulders when he still made no move to pull away.

“*But* there is work to be done.”

“We really shouldn’t keep poor Bellara waiting… shes already scouted ahead. We have to meet her in Arlathan. I don’t want her rushing in on her own.” Naimeryn spoke faster as her mind cleared and caught up to her words. “Bellara is still hoping she can save Cyrian. Crap. We have to go.”

Before pushing against Lucanis to move, she pecked him on the nose. He smiled, planting one on her cheek as he let her stand and rush by, following close behind.

[liquidcatt]

your boyfriend writes a letter to come to terms with your death

cw: angst, maybe ooc, slight comfort, mention of car accident, grieving process, no happy ending, implied s*icide, lots of tears are shed

My dear Y/N,

It's been a few years since your passing. I struggled to write this so I apologize if it sounds like I’m rambling. I want to get this off my chest right now before I regret not doing it later. 

Before I met you, I was not a fan of Christmas. Like, at all. It brought back memories from my childhood. Memories that reminded me of a different time before life showed its ugly face. Memories that I use to look back on with contempt and melancholy. Memories that honestly I would wish to forget. Memories that basically made me not want anything to do with it at all.

I remember it like it was yesterday: I got invited to an early Christmas party by one of my friends and I saw you being dragged through the crowd by your sister, wanting to introduce me to you. I was aloof with you at first as you weren’t too into the holiday spirit either to even have a casual chat with me. But as we talked, however, I felt myself being drawn to you. Like someone was telling me that you were one. And they were right. Some say it was a slow burn romance in the making, but screw it, I didn’t care. Seeing your face turn bright red when I asked for your number before you left so we could keep contact was the highlight of the night. Honestly it felt like I was in high school all over again; asking the cute girl next to me in class if she wanted to go out with me. I don’t regret that night and I’m glad you didn’t too. 

Every Christmas with you was so different, I was so happy to share it with you. We’d watch all those cheesy Christmas movies and sometimes do little commentaries on how stupid they were. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” was always blasting on the radio as we drove home from dinner. On certain nights, I’d get into my winter clothes excitedly so we could go outside to see the snowflakes fall from the sky, feeling their wet kisses land on my cheeks. Your family was so fun to be around. Your parents were a little old-fasioned, but I was happy they welcomed me with open arms. I even got to meet some of your young cousins; they were so adorable, I hoped that we would've started a family as well. I will always cherish those memories of you. The memories that made me remember my childhood and how much I took them for granted. I wish I could tell myself that things would get better and that I would find my soulmate. 

But as they say, life showed its ugly face yet again, only this time it took you away from me forever. Your mother woke me up one day, screaming on the phone and told me that you had gotten into a car accident. I can still hear the sound of her crying echo in my mind. I hate it so much. It was raining heavily and they said your car had slipped off the road and crashed into a nearby tree. You died on impact. Seeing your body in the coffin was like something out of a nightmare. It had to be right? My mind kept screaming that you were just asleep and that this wasn’t real. But it was. You were dead. I wanted to console your parents, but I held my tongue and stayed silent. After that, things were never the same.

To ease the pain, I watched all the movies that we use to snuggle together. I’m listening to your favorite Christmas songs over and over again, singing my heart out like you did. The ugly sweater you gave me one year to match yours is still hidden away somewhere in my closet. I have no desire to wear it unfortunately. My friends try their best to cheer me up during this time, like visiting the places you used to frequent and eating at your favorite restaurants. They’d also check up on me to make sure that I don’t do anything stupid. Yeah right. Like I would ever. I’m too much of a coward to even try. I’d visit your family once in a while to chat with them. Your parents told me that I was always welcome in their home, but it does little to heal the gaping wound in my heart. They let me have some of your belongings as they didn’t have the heart to get rid of them. The grief of losing you took a toll and I can see it on their faces. You and your mother look so alike, it was almost like talking to you again. The wrinkles on her face get worse and worse every day. I swear she looks like she had been crying for a long time and I can’t blame her. Your dad is a hard-working man. He worked a lot to make sure you got everything you wanted. And your sister, I never got to thank her for introducing me to you. She has no idea how much I would’ve loved to get married. The more I see them, the more guilt I feel festering in my throat. I feel like I let them down; I felt like I let you down. 

But that’s not what I’m writing this letter though. No, I’m writing this letter to tell you that these past few years were some of the best and I wish that I had more time to spend them with you. The truth is Y/N, you made me love Christmas again. And I miss it so much. I miss you. I miss being excited to see the presents nestled under the tree waiting to be opened. I miss the ornaments on the tree you would decorate as they swayed slightly like they were waving. I miss holding your hand as we walk the streets at dusk admiring the Christmas lights hanging on the houses and shops. I miss making cookies with you even if they didn’t always turn out perfect. I miss falling asleep next to you on the couch as we struggled to stay awake to see Santa. As long as I was with you, everything was okay. You were what Christmas was always about: being with the people you love.

What’s even the point of celebrating it anymore? I know that you would tell me that you wouldn't have wanted this. You’d hold me in your arms cupping my face to wipe away the tears, saying you wouldn't want me to be sad. No way in hell that would you have let me stay cooped up in my room either, shut away from the world. You’d tell me to be happy and remember you in a positive light. You’d want me to celebrate Christmas with everyone who loves and cares about him. But you aren’t here to tell me any of that. You're gone. And I have to accept that.

As I’m writing this, it’s only a few more hours until Christmas. This year has gone by so fast. I bought a small, white cake at the last minute at some store nearby that's open till midnight. It was the cheapest one I could afford as I’m short on cash right now. It’s plain, but simple, just how you would’ve liked it. You didn’t care if anything I bought was expensive or not. 

I still live in the apartment we shared together. This ‘home’ that was once full of radiance and mirth for a time is now replaced with a dark, melancholy ambience. It’s so different without you. I have trouble sleeping because I instinctively turn and expect to see you laying next to me. The other side of the bed is cold, I miss looking at your peaceful face while you slept. I took a picture of the cake and sent it to your family and some of my friends. They all loved it and I’m sure you would’ve too. 

There’s so much more I want to say, but this is all I'm able to get out. If you're looking down from heaven right now, always know that I’ll always keep a piece of you in my heart until my dying day. I love you and that feeling will never change. Merry Christmas Y/N. 

Love you always, Your boyfriend

Kageyama, Tendou, Tsukishima, Akaashi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima (+ your fav)

a/n: One of my managers at work had a daughter who died that loved Christmas and it was never the same for her :’(

[heartcircus]

I love Mapicc and Derap’s bickering and mutual disdain, but god I wish there was someone in Mapicc’s corner who could like. Help give Zam a bit of perspective on how Derap is bending the narrative and painting Mapicc in a negative light to push Zam into choosing him bc Zam has to be the one defending Mapicc in every conversation and the more they have the more it feels like Zam’s resolve is shifting. The fact that Derap is kind of unchallenged here is like. Miserable. I don’t hate Derap but I do want things to fall apart for him bc he is just making this so much worse and Zam needs to talk to someone else. I hope Pangi tells him Derap invited him. I hope Mapicc stalks one of their conversations and gets the chance to defend himself. Planet saying Mapicc was Zam’s bestie and Zam getting choked up and just repeating “yeah” was like. Such a good moment. Reminding Zam of what they were. Can we get another girltalk if we’re doing season 4 i think we should bring back girltalk (this probably will not help). Can someone defend my dog I don’t care if he’s in the wrong I just want someone to make it clear he’s not the only one in the wrong

yeah, i definitely agree, mapicc does need someone in his corner and it's unfortunate that there's really just . no one . i don't know whether or not it's intentional that derap is pushing for zam to choose him over mapicc, in my opinion it could go either way, but i don't think he's going to like the answer he'll inevitably end up getting (that it's mapicc. it's always mapicc.).

i'm also in the same boat as you towards atlas lmao i like them, i find them cute, but i definitely think they're due for some confrontation/contestation over how derap talks to zam. even aside from mapicc, he tells zam a bunch of half-truths despite constantly reiterating that he Never lies to zam. like, the whole 'pangi found zaun on his own' thing was so weird because i don't really think zam would've been all that mad if derap just told him he showed pangi the place ? it's just a bunch of little things like that which will eventually add up over time

i'm a big devotioner, i love those guys, and as much as i love seeing them at odds with one another this time it's just so painful. it's something about seeing them both Refuse to fight one another and making that rather clear but still being unable to work together. they're just stuck at this god-awful crossroads and i can't wait for their time to come back around, whatever that means, just as long as they're together again.

[be-compromised]

Secret Santa 2024 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who took part in this year’s holiday fic exchange, from writers to beta readers to all you lovely people who leave comments. With an especial shout out to our heroic pinch hitters, @alphaflyer, @caiti-creative-corner, and @cassiesinsanity !

All gifts and authors have now been revealed, both on AO3 and on the masterlist (here and on dreamwidth). You’re now free to post, share, and link to your gifts wherever you like! If you could in some way link back to the exchange or the community, to direct people to all of the other wonderful fics as well, that would be appreciated.

If you feel inspired to fill any other prompts, or create stocking fillers or non-participant fills, please feel free. These just won’t be included as part of the Secret Santa exchange or on the masterlists.

From all your be_compromised mods, we hope you have a happy holiday season and wish you all the best for the new year. See you in 2025! ~ inkvoices, gsparkle & CloudAtlas 💜

Ain’t A Saint by @inkvoices for @huntress79 Mature; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton/James Barnes, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff/James Barnes Summary:“I lead a group of immortals. Soldiers, like you. Two of us have already been experimented on - tortured - and I need you to come with me and get in the goddamn car, because it might already be happening to someone else right fucking now." Natasha, Clint, and Bucky dream of a new immortal. Meanwhile, a Stark Industries research vessel has found the Valkyrie. An Old Guard AU.

A Christmas Invitation by @caiti-creative-corner for Hurt_loves_comfort Teen & Up; Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff Summary: Natasha might be stubborn, but Clint could wait her out . . . and he had good reason to be patient.

A Kiss for Luck by @cassiesinsanity for @firlalaith Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: A number of random, shared kisses that lead to one special kiss on New Year's Eve.

A Russian Lullaby by @iriel3000 for @chaed Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, various friendships Summary: Based on the prompt by Chaed: “Clint isn't the only one haunted after New York. Natasha struggles with unexpected Hulk PTSD.” Ever wonder how "Natasha, we need a lullaby" originated? Clint thinks Natasha is hiding an injury but soon discovers it’s more.

At the Rose & Quill by @caiti-creative-corner for @cassiesinsanity Gen: Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Summary: Serenity and knowledge go hand-in-hand at the Rose & Quill, and Laura loves the serenity it brings her odd little family.

Backstage @scaarletwiitch for @mondstadtlover6000 Gen; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: Clint is struggling in his role on the technical crew for this year's production of the Nutcracker. Natasha arrives as a guest artist with the ballet company, feeling like an outsider. 

Be More Obvious about It by @firlalaith for @heroofshield Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: Clothes say a lot about a person.

City Kid by Hurt_loves_comfort for @delektorskichick Gen; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop, Alexi Shostakov/Melina Vostokoff Summary: Natasha Romanov has been living in the city and doing ballet since she was four. What happens when an injury sends her to the countryside where she meets one Clint Barton?

Collecting Strays by Ultra for @inkvoices Teen & Up; ambiguous relationships - Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, James Barnes Summary: He hasn't known her long, but he's known her long enough. When Strike Team Delta are sent to take out the Winter Soldier, all Nat has to do is blink, and once again, Clint finds himself making a different call.

Earworm by @delektorskichick for @paperairplanesopenwindows Gen; Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton Summary: In a world where whatever song your soulmate gets stuck in their head also gets stuck in yours, Laura Barton has the unfortunate luck of getting a soulmate who loves those stupid, annoying commercial jingles. What's even more annoying is when it will randomly shift to classical ballet music. Laura's soulmate is so dead when she finally meets them. Note: Soulmates in this can be romantic or platonic, so it can be read either way as far as Natasha goes.

Faces of Ghosts by @paperairplanesopenwindows for @icantopenwaterbottlecaps Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary:"Were you aware that Yelena's sister is my ex-girlfriend or was I just supposed to find that out when I complimented her costume myself?" "Huh?" America asked, clearly confused. Clint noticed that Yelena seemed unsurprised by this information. "Yelena..." Clint groaned. She clasped her hands together in faux innocence. "Wow! What do you mean? You know my sister, Natasha?" "What the fuck, Yelena?" "I had no idea," she said fervently, but was clearly holding back laughter. "I had no idea at all. Otherwise, I definitely would not have invited you both to this party with no warning."

favorite parts by @mondstadtlover6000 for @endlesstwanted Gen; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: Clint and Natasha get sent on a vacation—no, a mission. They think it's a mission, anyway.

Hearts & Roses by @huntress79 for ufohnoparty (why_didnt_i_get_any_soup) Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff/James Barnes, background Clint Barton/Melinda May, various friendships Summary: Fresh off yet another breakup, passionate florist Clint Barton relocates himself from semi-rural Iowa to BedStuy in New York, where his first boss and best friend Phil Coulson has found a flower shop in dire need of a capable owner. What he doesn’t expect is that his neighbors, tattoo artists Natasha Romanov and Bucky Barnes, not only will be responsible for his first tattoo, but also turn his whole life upside down – in the most positive way.

is it to soon to do this yet? by @quidnunc-life for @archers-and-spies Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: “When I told you two to get to know each other through a fun common interest,” says Coulson, “I meant watch an episode of Dog Cops or something. Not blow a city up together.” Or: Everyone knows Natasha hates Clint, but if they want to be a STRIKE team, something has to change.

i thought the plane was going down (how'd you turn it right around?) by @archers-and-spies for @cloud--atlas Gen; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: Being a weather witch is all fun and games, until you're seated next to the girl you walked out on ten years ago. Clint has the worst luck.

of dance cards and suitors by @icantopenwaterbottlecaps for Ultra Gen; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: “How about love?” he asks. Natasha tilts her head at Clint, an errant red curl falling from her elegant coiffure as she waits for him to elaborate. “Won’t you marry for love?” Or: a Clintasha Regency AU

Operation: Incoming by @alphaflyer for @scaarletwiitch Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Alexi Shostakov/Melina Vostokoff, Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop Summary: Natasha puts the phone down with a deep sigh and turns to Clint, with a look that’s a mix of apology and abject terror. “Incoming! Alexei and Melina are coming to New York and want to spend Christmas with us. They’re arriving tomorrow.”

Solecism by ufohnoparty (why_didnt_i_get_any_soup) for @iriel3000 Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff & Steve Rogers Summary: Natasha and Steve are on a mission together in Budapest. Things quickly go south and Steve doesn't know what to do when Natasha is gravely injured. She tells him to call her husband. What husband?

Something So Magic by @heroofshield for @caiti-creative-corner Gen; Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff Summary: Sometimes the most unlikeliest of friendships are formed in a disappearing coffee shop.

The Mastermind vs. The Master Assassins by @cassiesinsanity for @alphaflyer Mature; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Summary: Its driving Tony nuts trying to figure out the deal with Clint & Natasha, so he recruits some friends to help him find out.

Two To Tango (Or Kate Bishop’s Guide to Helping Your Mentor Realize He’s In Love with his Partner) by @alphaflyer for @quidnunc-life Teen & Up; Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Summary: “These two are such idiots. Why don’t they just admit that they are crazy about each other?” Kate and Yelena see a problem and set out to fix it.

[oqwomyo]

Butler's wedding party. Berrien's card translation.

Part 1.

- Devil's Palace Butlers' Room on the First Floor -

- After the Party -

Berrien: (Fufu... Today was a very fun day.)

Berrien: (Master and the butlers... Everyone was smiling and looking happy...)

Berrien: (I wish this could last forever... This day made me think so.)

Berrien: (Aside from the party...)

Berrien: (Master set days when they would spend with each of the butlers ...)

Berrien: (We... We are really lucky to have such kind Master.)

Berrien: (So, immersing ourselves in happiness is great, but...)

Berrien: (How should I spend the day with Master... I need to start making plans.)

Berrien: (That's right... I'm happy to entertain Master as always...)

Berrien: (A little... Can I be a little selfish?)

- Devil's Palace Garden -

- Later-

A few days have passed since the party... The day that Berrien and I will spend together has arrived. We are lucky with the weather... Today is quite cool for June, and the sun is pleasant. On such a day, Berrien and I... We enjoyed afternoon tea in the garden.

Berrien: Master. Thank you for allowing me, as a butler, to be with you.

Berrien: "Having a tea party with Master" is... As a butler, it was selfish of me..

Berrien: The fact that this is happening... I am very happy.

You: I am also happy to have tea with you.

- Thank you for inviting me.

Berrien: I feel relieved hearing these words.

Berrien: Master. Please enjoy this day.

After saying this, Berrien smiled happily.

Berrien: Fufu, besides...

Berrien: Master and I are having a tea party as a "continuation of the wedding party"... I have never been so happy.

Berrien: Perhaps Master already knows...

Berrien: Drinking tea with people close to me... This is very important to me.

You: We talked about this a little in Caliste.

Berrien: Yes. We talked about marriage in Caliste.

Berrien: "While married, I will drink tea with my partner every day"... I said that.

Berrien: And... This thought has not changed since then.

Berrien: Drinking tea with my family... Spending quiet time with dear people...

Berrien: This attitude will never change.

After saying that, Berrien... He looked straight at me.

Berrien: Therefore... Thank you, Master.

Berrien: I'm sure more than Master can imagine...

Berrien: I... Master has made me so happy.

You: B-Berrien...

Berrien: Fufu, oh my... I've said too much.

Berrien: Master. Thank you for listening to my feelings.

Berrien: Now, shall we continue...? Shall we enjoy tea?

Berrien: Tea and sweets... Please enjoy them as much as you like.

You: Uh-huh...

I followed Berrien's recommendation and... I reached for the tea stand. A three-tiered stand designed to hold sandwiches, scones, and cream puffs... There are many sweets on it. Delicious-looking cross-section sandwiches and even scones... The custard buns look delicious too.

You: Everything looks so delicious.

- I kind of want to eat it all.

Berrien: Fufu... Do you think so?

Berrien: If you say so... Then it was worth all my efforts.

You: Did Berrien make all of this?

Berrien: Yes.

Berrien: Tea party with Master... I prepared treats for it.

Berrien: Sometimes... I want to please Master with some home-made cakes of mine too.

You: Thank you for the wonderful treats.

Berrien: Fufu... I appreciate your kind words, but there's no need to thank me.

Berrien: I just wanted Master to enjoy our tea party.

You: Still, thank you.

- I'll try the food made by Berrien.

Having said that, I... I tried Berrien's food. His treats were even tastier than they seemed... A smile couldn't help but spread across my face. When Berrien saw me like this... He laughed softly.

You: What is it, Berrien?

Berrien: No, it's nothing. But...

You: But..?

Berrien: My treats made Master smile... I am happy.

Berrien: Master is smiling... And the reason for that smile is me...

Berrien: I am so happy... It can't be helped.

Still looking at me... Berrien narrowed his eyes affectionately.

Berrien: And to be honest...

Berrien: I... I love Master's smile.

Berrien: But, Master who laughs...

Berrien: ...They are the cutest of all.

You: B-Berrien...

As he said that... Berrien continued to look at me with a calm expression. Because of of his smile, from which one can feel an enveloping kindness... My heart could not remain calm any longer.

Part 2.

- A little later-

After that, we continued drinking tea... The tea stand was also empty. Then Berrien stood up from his seat... He said, "At last, I have prepared a special dessert." He headed to the kitchen of the mansion.

*Step step*

Berrien: Master. Sorry for the wait.

Berrien: Since our tea party is coming to an end... I have brought a special dessert.

After saying that, Berrien carefully... Placed the dessert in the center of the table. And on the plate... There was a whole cake with fruits on top.

You: It looks delicious..!

Hearing my expression... Berrien sighed in relief and rubbed his chest.

Berrien: I'm glad... It seems like you liked it.

You: It is impossible for me not to like it.

Berrien: Thank you very much.

Berrien: Master always... Says kind words to me...

Berrien: You liked the cake immediately after seeing it... It's a special joy.

You: Is that so?

Berrien: Yes. But this cake...

Berrien: I made it based on my memories with Mr. Goetia.

You: Memories with Mr. Goetia?

Berrien: Yes.

When Berrien said that... There was a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

Berrien: Master already knows... When I was young...

Berrien: Mr Goetia... I was throwing a party for my father for his "wedding anniversary."

Berrien: One of the treats I made back then... Was a fruit cake.

Berrien: When Mr. Goetia's wife was still alive... As a couple, they ate cake for their anniversary...

Berrien: Remembering that situation... I made a cake for the celebration back then.

You: Is that so...

Berrien: Yes... They're just memories now.

Berrien: Unlike the cakes you can buy in Espoir today... I use buttercream instead of whipped cream...

Berrien: Because... I used to make them back then too.

Berrien: And now, looking at this cake...

Berrien: Since the day I was little... It really feels like a long time has passed.

You: Berrien...

Berrien looks at the cake with a somewhat lonely expression... When I called him, he laughed softly.

Berrien: That's why I...

Berrien: I was happy that you liked this cake from my memories.

Berrien: Memories of days long gone by and people I cherish now... They seem to be connected.

Berrien: This... It gave me a strange but warm feeling.

Berrien closed his eyes... He spoke to me gently.

Berrien: Master, this cake... Would you like to eat it with me?

Berrien: While enjoying delicious tea and cake... We will continue our tea party.

You: Of course, Berrien.

- Let's continue our tea party.

Berrien: Fufu... Thank you, Master.

Berrien: Then... Let me cut the cake.

Berrien sat on the chair and... With experienced hands, he cut the cake into equal pieces.

Berrien: Hmm... If you cut it like this, it will be large but equal pieces...

Berrien: That's right... Then, let's do it like this.

Berrien said it without hesitation... He handed me a plate with a large piece.

Berrien: Fufu... ♪ This way, Ms.Strawberry will be happy too.

You: B-Berrien...

Berrien: Oya..? What is it, master?

You: Even if Ms.Strawberry is happy...

- I can't take that much.

Berrien: Don't worry about me.

Berrien: This big and delicious-looking strawberry...I want Master to eat it.

Berrien: That's why...Here you go. ♪

Berrien speared the strawberry with his fork...And then he brought it to my mouth.

You: ...Eh?

Berrien: Master. Come on, open your mouth.

Berrien: Master is a kind person...So you won't shy away and will eat the strawberry, right?

Berrien: That's why...I'll use my own hands to make Master say "ah".

Berrien: That way...Master will definitely eat the strawberry...

Berrien: Then I'll be happy too.

You: Uh...

Seeing my confusion...Berrien moved even closer.

Berrien: Come on, Master...Don't be shy about enjoying it.

Berrien: Let's go, ah~m...♪

You: A-Am...

Unable to refuse happy Berrien... I opened my mouth wide.

Berrien: Fufu... Master, is it delicious?

You: Y-Yummy...

Berrien: I see... It's good.

Berrien: Such a big and red strawberry... I thought it should be delicious.

Berrien: That's why... I wanted Master to eat it.

You: Oh...

Seeing my embarrassment at being forced to eat the strawberry... Berrien laughed happily.

Berrien: Fufu... Maybe Mr.Goetia's wife felt that way too.

You: Mr. Goetia's wife..?

- Father's wife..?

Berrien: Yes.

Berrien: When I was young, Mr. Goetia...

Berrien: They were a married couple... I asked how they spent their "wedding anniversaries."

Berrien: At that time... Mr.Goetia's wife was feeding him strawberries from her hand... It was something like that.

Berrien: Saying that, father...

Berrien: "Why was my wife so happy at that time"... Father had a thoughtful expression.

Saying that, Berrien chuckled.

Berrien: I have never seen father's wife, but...

Berrien: Now... I understand her feelings very well.

Berrien: Because... Just now, I did something similar with Master...

Berrien: I was able to see cute Master eating strawberries from my hand.

Saying that, Berrien... He narrowed his eyes again as he looked at me.

Berrien: I love Master's smile...

Berrien: But Master's expression before... It was beautiful too.

You: B-Berrien...

Berrien looked at me with a dreamy look.

Berrien: That's why, Master...

Berrien: On the cake I made... There are also strawberries...

Berrien: Do you want more?

Berrien: If Master wants... I'll give you as many as you want.

Berrien's eyes looked like... he was having a happy dream. When he looked so happy, I couldn't refuse... I asked for another strawberry.

You: Can I ask for another one?

Berrien: Yes... As many as Master wants.

Berrien again... He brought the strawberry to my mouth. His smile looked happy. Moreover, it was warm.

You: ...I love Berrien's smile too.

Berrien: Uh...

His eyes widened in surprise... I put the strawberry in my mouth. As I savored the sweetness of the strawberry... Berrien's cheeks slowly turned red.

Berrien: Master...

Berrien: Fufu... I'm happy.

Berrien: I like Master's smile... If Master likes my smile too...

Berrien: As long as we're together, we'll always smile...

When Berrien said that... His expression softened. I was enchanted by his smile... My cheeks also turned slightly red.

[meiguicha]

When All Is Said and Done

Zhongli x Reader

is this a safe space, because i have loved this old man for way too long. also i should nawt have written this so late at night

The autumn sun invites crisp winds that foretell the harsher months, yet too does it present the most beautiful of sights upon the harbour.

A multitude of ginkgo trees line an old paved path, shedding their verdant coats in favour of bright ochre made only the more brilliant by the afternoon sunlight. The fallen fruits have been meticulously swept up into two woven baskets, no doubt an act of the person living within the humble residence just beyond the seas of amber trees.

And as his eyes drift towards those baskets, he finds his hand unable to be stayed, choosing to swipe a few of the foul-smelling fruits within his gloved hand. Even at a distance, the odour forced a twist of features but alas, there is someone who quite enjoys them.

Zhongli laughs to himself, a fond smile pulls across his lips at a meandering thought. By the end of the season, they'll be sick of the fleshy fruits and yet by the next fall of verdure, they'll be brimming with excitement once more.

Looking up and shielding his eyes from the stray strands of light peering through peeks of leaves, another thought tails after the first.

These trees loom over buildings of new, having bore fruits for hundreds of years and may continue to do so for the another hundred. Their caretakers yet still have dilligently taken care of them, and from the mouths of the people of Liyue, have been doing so for generations.

He laughs once more, quieter this time.

With a handful of gifts to present, leather shoes eventually find themselves at the forefront of a stone abode. Herbs of myriad blend grow ardently by the porch, but it is not that which causes his eyes to quirk nor his heart to soothe.

Sitting atop a chair is the form of the very caretaker who has taken his heart and liver, with a dragon plush on their lap and a pair of knitting needles grasped weakly in their hands. A table with a tea set atop the top layer and another basket in the lowest.

It is you, sound asleep in a thick shawl and wisps of loose hair tickling the soft apples of your cheeks. He looks towards the pairing chair next to yours, and as quietly as possible, shifts it so he may gaze upon you ever the easier.

Perhaps for some illogical reasoning, he places the fruits onto the small basket, and looks to pour himself a cup of tea.

The teapot atop the wooden table has grown cold, your own, round, cup too has been abandoned in your promenade with slumber. One much sharper, squarer, a cup you bemoan and gripe about whenever it enters your sight, sits besides yours, though it has seemingly been untouched.

Yet though he has kept his movements light, your eyes squeeze as they flutter open blearily. And with a soft hum, you gift upon him the grace of your attention.

"Hrm... Have you been staring at me the whole time?" Quietly, your voice rasps from disuse and yet there is no sound he could possibly find more pleasing.

Strands of your hair fall upon your lips as the wind breezes past, and some part of him, deep and rumbling, wishes for nothing more than to be those strands if only to be closer towards you.

Zhongli merely brushes them aside, and with a tone distantly related to indulgence, laughs, "There is nothing else I could possibly do in your presence."

Though you do not outwardly react in any manner noticeable to the less trained eye, your eyes like crescents and raised lips are all he needs.

"The birds were awfully loud today," Sighing, you close your eyes as you hold the plush closer to your stomach. "They're never like this when you're around."

"I suppose I shall have to fend off my beloved's suitors if they so annoy you," He responds, gently shooing off a feathered intruder from your arm.

"Now isn't the time to be jealous of finches, dear."

"You can't blame me for jealousy when even a glance from you could make sparrows drop from the sky."

He's certain that he must sound like a fool, one so hopelessly adoring of you that it seeps from his every gaze and movement, if only so it could possibly explain your clemency for his proclivity to praise you.

Languidly, without neither rush nor haste, you smile as your words spill with idle, "As if your cart is not filled with fruits at every moment of the day."

Your response, no matter how nonchalant nor monotone, still pulls a laugh from him. He finds it comes easier now, for amusement to leak from his lips when it is with you.

Clearly his reaction is one you are pleased by. Knitting needles cast aside and creation halted indefinitely, you will not worry about completing it. Reaching for his hand, you leisurely remove his gloves to run your fingers along his palm. Feather light, he doesn't bother to repress the shiver that runs through him at the adroit touch.

Even that passes, and all he is left with is the warm connection of your hand. Your gaze lands upon him again and once more, forever more, he knows that truly, having your heed, languorous or not. is all he wants.

Whether in the solemness of winter or the bustling of spring, in defending you against your feathered companions or herded from admiring onlookers, you only have the rest of forever to live out your gentle lives.

[silliestgooberaround]

Dear Friends,

I hope this message finds you in good spirits.

I’m reaching out to share something deeply personal and important—please take a moment to read it.

My name is Ahmad , and I am a 14-year-old.

The war destroyed our life and we lost everything.

I respectfully ask for your help. Even a small donation, like $5, could make a meaningful difference in our lives. If financial support isn't feasible for you right now, sharing this message with others may also help us reach those who can assist.

Please think of us as part of your extended family. Your compassion and willingness to share could help lift us out of this struggle. To those who have already contributed, I am profoundly grateful. If you are able, your continued support would be invaluable. Feel free to share your donation anonymously if that’s what you prefer.

Every bit of help matters greatly to us. Even if you are unable to donate, a share of this post along with a few kind words could inspire others to join our cause.

It’s essential to recognize that you never know when life may turn, and you might need help one day too. By contributing to our cause today, you might pave the way for someone else to extend their hand to you tomorrow.

Today, my family and I are surviving on a single meal that barely eases our hunger. If you could consider forgoing a meal and donating that money to us, it would be an incredible act of kindness.

I am immensely thankful for the support I receive through my posts, and I invite you to follow my accounts @ahmadwaleed5,@ahmadwaleed55 to keep up with our journey. While my posts may receive many likes, we are still in urgent need of donations.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Your kindness and compassion are deeply appreciated. Wishing you all the best.

#167 on the vetted fundraising list created by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi

Warm regards,

Reblog this or their own posts , donate if you can ❤️

[tododeku-or-bust]

Dear Friends,

I hope this message finds you in good spirits.

I’m reaching out to share something deeply personal and important—please take a moment to read it.

My name is Ahmad , and I am a 14-year-old.

The war destroyed our life and we lost everything.

I respectfully ask for your help. Even a small donation, like 5 euros, could make a meaningful difference in our lives. If financial support isn't feasible for you right now, sharing this message with others may also help us reach those who can assist.

Please think of us as part of your extended family. Your compassion and willingness to share could help lift us out of this struggle. To those who have already contributed, I am profoundly grateful. If you are able, your continued support would be invaluable. Feel free to share your donation anonymously if that’s what you prefer.

Every bit of help matters greatly to us. Even if you are unable to donate, a share of this post along with a few kind words could inspire others to join our cause.

It’s essential to recognize that you never know when life may turn, and you might need help one day too. By contributing to our cause today, you might pave the way for someone else to extend their hand to you tomorrow.

Today, my family and I are surviving on a single meal that barely eases our hunger. If you could consider forgoing a meal and donating that money to us, it would be an incredible act of kindness.

I am immensely thankful for the support I receive through my posts, and I invite you to follow my accounts @ahmadwaleed5,@ahmadwaleed55 to keep up with our journey. While my posts may receive many likes, we are still in urgent need of donations.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Your kindness and compassion are deeply appreciated. Wishing you all the best.

#167 on the vetted fundraising list created by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi

Warm regards,

‼️‼️‼️