#but his tag has been active across my dash this month so let’s post!

[thunderyonder]

have you ever seen a more nervous grandpa in your life

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Four

(Gif's not my own.) 

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Four

Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.

This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.

They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.

“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.

Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”

Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.

Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.

The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.

He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.

Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.

He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.

It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.

"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.

He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade.  He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?

"Help!"

Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.

This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.

°°°

Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.

It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.

He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.

Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.

That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.

The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.

After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.

"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.

Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.

"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.

"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.

She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."

She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.

"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."

Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."

She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."

His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.

"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"

With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."

They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.

She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.

His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?

Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.

So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point.  Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.

She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.

"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.

"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.

To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”

His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.

"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."

"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"

He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.

"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.

"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."

“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."

Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"

He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."

She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."

"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."

He shook his head. "I meant in person.”

"Oh, I never realized.”

The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”

Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.

°°°

Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.

First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.

His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?

Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"

He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.

The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.

"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."

"He seems a little down..."

"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!

“Explosion. Two men dead.”

He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.

All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.

He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern.  “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.

Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.

There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.

What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.

Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.

In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!

The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.

It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.

"Oh shit!"

Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.

"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.

Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."

Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"

Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.

"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"

Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.

"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.

Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"

Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."

The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​

[sketchguk]

Hi, friends! I can honestly say that I’ve been on Tumblr for about 9 years, but only 7 of those months have been spent on this account. Being a part of this fandom means so much to me, and as cheesy as it may be, I’ve never felt so much love from a community like this. I think that I should spread a little love back to everyone through this festive follow forever post in the spirit of the holidays (there’s also a message for my beautiful followers at the very end, so bear with me). Although I may have not spoken to you all personally, you’ve made my experience here amazing!! Whether it’s seeing you on my dash or in my inbox, you’ve all made me smile one way or another!! I’ll admit right now that I’ve sent so many anonymous messages to you all because I’m really shy, haha. Not to mention, I follow so many amazing content creators, gif/gfx makers and fic writers alike, and I want to make you smile as much as you have made me!! Y’all are so lovely, and I’m not totally sure why anyone chooses to interact with me or to follow me nonetheless. Maybe you’ve read a fic of mine, or none at all, I appreciate you all the same 💕 I know some of you may be in and out of hiatus, but just know that I’m thinking of you!! And if this is the first time you’re coming across my blog, I guess this is a good time to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Teresa. It’s nice to meet you 😄

If you’re reading this, hopefully we can chat a little more. I would love to get to know such lovely people 😊  To my beautiful mutuals, I love you all sooo much 💓 I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, but I hope that this is a start! @190713 @95swifi ✩ @alwayschoosechocolate ✩ @aureumjeon ✩ @beebopboobop ✩ @boobearcupcake ✩ @btsaremyfaves ✩ @btssmutheaven ✩ @bwiq ✩ @engeljimin ✩ @ddaengwrld ✩ @emiyooa ✩ @geniuslab 💌 ✩ @gimmeyoon (@gimmeyoon-main) ✩ @girlwiththespecs ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @hobimygs​ ✩ @hoseoknysus ✩ @idiotscalledfriends ✩ @joonary ✩ @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) 💌 ✩ @littlemisskookie ✩ @llsanjoonie ✩ @lovehrs ✩ @magicshop-myg ✩ @map-of-yoongi ✩ @maptoyoongi ✩ @mercurygguk ✩ @minflix ✩ @minlexia ✩ @minyoongsueit ✩ @mygsii ✩ @outroguks ✩ @pjmskosmos ✩ @sdmnluv ✩ @softaellie ✩ @spookitokki (@spookitokkimain) ✩ @starrytete 💌 ✩ @syugasshi ✩ @taesseok 💌 ✩ @tokyoscript ✩ @ve1vetyoongi ✩ @vminary 💌 ✩ @vtbts ✩ @vxngguk ✩ @wthkook ✩ @yourdelights 💌 If your url is bolded, scroll down for some words of affirmation. ✨ If you have an emoji (💌) next to your url, scroll down for a special message. 😇🌟  And here’s a shoutout to some of my favorite fic writers, because you all allow me escape to my happy place !! Thank you so much for contributing to the writing community !! This online space is pretty hectic, especially as of late, but you all make it worth it. Even if you’re taking a break from writing, I am here cheering you on !! And to let you know that I’ll support you no matter what. I hope you never lose your spark for passion and creativity !! Sometimes life gets the best of us, and other times, things are not in our control, but I want to send my love and appreciation to you nevertheless. Your fics have inspired me to try my own hand at writing, and I’m forever grateful ✨ You’re spectacular, every single one of you, so never forget that! Kpop isn’t that serious, but I’ll probably think about your fics until the day I die. @bymoonchild ✩ @floralseokjin ✩ @foreverpark ✩ @geniuslab ✩ @gimmeyoon ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @jamaisjoons ✩ @gukyi ✩ @kookswife ✩ @kinktae ✩ @kpopfanfictrash ✩ @minflix ✩ @mygsii ✩ @personasintro​ ✩ @prolixitae ✩ @readyplayerhobi ✩ @spookitokki ​ ✩ @ubemango ✩ @ve1vetyoongi (yee, you might see some repeats because my moots are super talented) 💖  A love letter from me to you: 💌 @geniuslab Megan !! This might sound soo sappy, but you’re the very first person I followed when I made this blog !! It’s because I’ve read all of your fics (perhaps more than once on my old account), and you inspired me to start writing as well. You have no idea how happy I was when you said you would get back into writing fics. I guess I’ll expose myself right now, but I’ve sent a few anons to you on the matter haha (yes, I am a 7 Chances enthusiast, one of many). You’re so talented, and I admire you so much 🥺 A gif maker and fic writer ?? Nothing you can’t do !! Among other things, you’re such a kind-hearted individual. I’ve read plenty of your text posts, and there’s just something so warm about the way you carry yourself. You deserve the world, and I wish for nothing but the best for you !! I hope you have an amazing new year and that you have space for peace, love, and healing. Please know that I support you through and through, and that you are well-loved ❣️

💌 @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) Yas !! I know we just started chatting, but I love getting to know you !! It’s hard for me to reach out to people because I’m shy, but I’m really grateful that you hit me up 😊 It’s been so nice getting to know you, and I hope we can get closer 💕 I’m already learning so much about you because our chats just flow from one topic to another !! You said you wanna visit new york one day, so I’ll hold you to that 😉 I’ll be your tour guide, and the only exchange I’ll ever need is your friendship !! Some dried mangoes would be nice too 😚 haha jk … unless 😳 I hope you have an amazing year filled with lots and lots of love. May you receive everything you’re wishing for !! 

💌 @starrytete Mirelle !! I’m still getting used to your new url LOL. But how could I ever forget you?? You are quite literally the human embodiment of an angel. You’re always spreading positivity, and I adore you with all my heart. I wish that I could be as radiant as you !! All the emojis that I’m using in this post?? An homage to you 🌼☀️ I don’t think I can ever look at emojis the same way thanks to you haha. Sending you lots of love!! I hope we can speak more in the future!! May the new year bring you happiness and good fortune!! Please take care of yourself, ok?! Message me whenever because my inbox is always open 🥰 

💌 @taesseok Mia !! I just love seeing you on my dash. I’ll give you a quick run down: Teresa: :[ Mia: *posts* Teresa: :] It’s like the universe knows. You’re a light in this world, and I hope you never lose your spark !! May you smile as often as I do (all thanks to you) 💗 I wish for nothing but your happiness since you deserve it and more. In fact, it’s the world that doesn’t deserve you and your sparkle !! I hope this year was rewarding for you, but I already know that 2020 will be better and better. I’ll be sending you lots of positive energy for the new year hehe 💞 Hopefully we can talk more soon !! I’d love to be friends !!

💌 @vminary Kiara !! I’m so happy that you reached out to me all those months ago because you’ve become one of my closest online friends !! I can’t tell you how much you mean to me because the limit does not exist. It’s so easy to talk to you, and sometimes our conversations are big sis/lil sis -esque (I’ve always wanted a sister lol 🐣). I feel as if we’ve taught one another so much, especially because of our cultural differences and the tiny age gap that we share. I find myself missing you because of the time zones LOL. In the middle of the day, I’m wondering whether or not you’re sleeping well :’) Why do you have to live across the world?? 😔 I would totally send you a package if I wasn’t broke haha. I’m sending you all my love here though, and I hope that’s enough !! 💛

💌 @yourdelights Destinee !! You are SUCH a sweetheart. The messages that you send me are so kind, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Do let me know how you stumbled across my blog because I feel like you’re way too cool for me LOL. Your posts are always so hilarious, and the tags have me dying. Your sense of humor >> !! My love for you is immeasurable, and I hope you know that, ahh. I think it was truly solidified when I found out you’re a fan of day6 and the rose :’) I’m not really a multi-stan, but from that moment on, I was sold. That was the only time my instincts did not let me down 🌹💝 I swear I’m getting introduced to new fandoms because of you haha. And when you went on a lil hiatus, I really missed seeing you on my dash !! I hope that you’ll be with us for a long time though !! I really can’t wait for what’s in store for next year, because no pressure or anything, but I’m sincerely excited for your WIPs hehe. I’m rooting for ya, so make sure you make the new year your b*tch !!  Lastly, thank you so much to my followers !! I see y’all in my activity, and I wanna let you know that I love you from the bottom of my heart !! At this point, I’m more of an update blog than a fanfic blog LOL :’) And if you follow me because you’ve stumbled through my fics, I just want to say 🤯 what?! It blows my mind that anyone reads my work, let alone enjoys it. I never would have though that I’d find solace in reading and writing considering I’m a full on STEM nerd. In conjunction with that, I literally started writing fiction 7 months ago to this day. I didn’t even realize that it would lead me to such amazing connections. With so many lovely people, popping in and out of my dashboard, inbox/DMs, and activity page, my heart b u r s t s with love!! Your interactions mean the world to me, even the most minute things like reblogs make my heart flutter. I really do check the reblogs to see if anyone has left a tag. Single words and keyboard smashes mean the world to me too !! Before I was a fic writer, I was just a silent reader. I always admired writers for the worlds they craft, the characters they develop, and the plots they devise, all for it to come together in one cohesive work of literature. Now that I have a vague understanding of what that’s like, I know that it’s nothing short of strenuous. Words are so powerful, and although I’m a really sensitive sap, I’ve read so many things that hit me to the core, and now I’m sure to tell the authors how much I enjoy their fics. If they went through hours (perhaps days/weeks/months) of drafting, writing, editing, and formatting, a quick comment from the reader really doesn’t hurt !! It’s the most rewarding thing a writer could ever ask for. As an amateur author myself, being on the receiving end is the thing that keeps me going !! I promise you, I don’t take any of it for granted. Your words seriously resonate with me, and it’s a huge motivator for me !! I hope that in the new year, I can work on new pieces for you all (as much as I don’t want to make up excuses, juggling life is not easy as a student!!) I always say that I write for myself, and as true as that is, I want to share my stories with you lovely people !! I pour my heart and soul into my work, and the build up of excitement is nothing if it means I can’t share it with someone else. So, old supporters, new supporters, look out for new content in the future. I hope you’re as excited as I am for the new year!! Please take care, y’all, and remember that I love you. My inbox is always open 💌 So let’s be friends 😇

[restingdomface]

So in a fit of brilliance I’ve decided the two posts tagged ‘coffee date au’ are set in the same universe where Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue agree to go on a date (they’re college buddies) but then suddenly they both show up slightly panicked and with a kid each (LXC doesn’t have a mom, and their dad is really agoraphobic since she died, and uncle is teaching a class rn, but NMJ still can’t convince his dad he should get a nanny for the kid and he’s having flashbacks to all the dangerous shit he chewed on as a kid and all the knives A-Sang could get his sticky hands on in their house, he swears he’s babyproofed like ten times now) and now it’s fate. Absolute love at first date and even if they break up they know damn well they’re gonna be sticking together for the sake of giving these kids some ounce of stability in their lives, and it’s actually kinda nice.

Anyways. One day when the kids are like six they meet Meng Yao, currently picking up like two kids from the daycare center (twins, his youngest siblings, now MXY cause he’s not born yet, but he’ll show up later) and they’re calling him brother and he’s fussing over them like a parent and then he looks at LXC and NMJ and they’re all ‘oh no he’s cute’ and invite a very stressed out looking Meng Yao (he has like twice as many classes as any sane person and he’s passing all of them with very high grades but he hasn’t slept in a while) to their weekly cafe date where they go to a nice little cafe off campus and buy a stupid amount of coffee and then spend the day playing with the kids cause LXC and NMJ never got played with as kids either, and MY isn’t really sure how to turn them down (they fukin hawt but also he’s on a scholarship and has basically no money that’s not going to keep the kids fed and clothed and he’s not really willing to spend it on frivolous things like dates) so he reluctantly ends up going, and it’s nice and they’re both basically rich boys who don’t make him pay and the kids make friends.

By the time they meet Jiang Chang and Wei Wuxian, the boys are both 10 and now Meng Yao is juggling two seven year olds and a one year old infant and tbh it’s actually Jin Zixuan who tracks him down when he finds out his father has been apparently dumping his bastard children on his first bastard son and Meng Yao looks TERRIFIED because he’s always been threatened that he’s not allowed to talk to his fathers only legitimate son and that if he does his father will cut off all contact entirely but leave him with the kids. Jin Guangshan has been keeping a tight leash on his finances, paying for his housing and stuff and food for the kids, but even then it’s barely enough and his boyfriends know that any sort of date or fun activity needs to be paid for by them or he can’t go at all because their father is terrible and just wants to abuse a poor kid who just made the mistake of agreeing to give his half siblings a better life.

Anyways. LXC and NMJ aren’t there yet or they likely would have threatened (lol LXC can’t threaten, he might try to deescalate the situation tho) Jin Zixuan, but they’re still not to the cafe yet and Meng Yao was in the middle of giving Mo Xuanyu a bottle and he’s basically stuck there, and he’s tired and the espresso hasn’t kicked in yet and JZX is saying something but MY isn’t paying attention.

Until the cafe doors open and two arguing ten year olds come barreling through, arguing about Pokémon or something and pulling each other’s hair. And JZX just sorta. Sighs.

He turns around to look at the kids with a disapproving frown. ‘A-Cheng, don’t pull A-Ying’s hair. Where did your sister get off to?’

Obviously, their older sister, JZX’s fiancé, was supposed to be keeping an eye on her terrible two, but A-Ying said she found a pretty hair pin in the store down the street and they got bored waiting for her and the shop owner scolded them for touching things, but then A-Cheng said A-Ying was the one touching stuff!! And now they’re arguing and pulling hair again and JZX has to get up and gently lead them both over to the table by the hand, getting them both settled down and asking what they want to drink.

This is so fucking surreal, Meng Yao almost forgets he has a fussy baby in his arms demanding attention until a slobbery little hand smacks him in the face and he goes back to gentle cooing at the little thing while giving him his bottle.

‘Oh! Is that A-Yu? Zi-gege said we were looking for A-Yu today! Can we play with him?’

Meng Yao isn’t sure what to do as the kids devolve from questions into arguing again. The twins are giving them funny looks, and since the boys were lead to the table, have finally abanonded their pretty drawings (they were drawing Yao-gege and also ErGe and DaGe too but they hadn’t gotten around to A-Zhan and A-Sang yet) to come back over to the table with Meng Yao and their new baby brother.

The two terrors stop arguing. A-Ying looks excitable. ‘I’m A-Ying! This is A-Cheng! Who are you?’

The twins look up at Meng Yao nervously, and he smiles at them gently, not knowing what else to do here.

Is Jin Zixuan here to take Xuanyu with him? He really hopes not. He isn’t sure what he and the girls would do to lose their new little brother. Things were tight around the house, just barely getting by with what they had, but Yao couldn’t lose him.

The first little girl, closest to Yao’s hand holding the bottle smiles. ‘I’m A-Ju, and this is my sister, A-Su.’

Su was a confident little one, but she had Yao’s tendency to watch people too critically before attempting to say anything. Ju tended to be more open.

JZX comes back and stands behind the boys after he’s given them a couple sandwiches and milky tea, and just stares at the two girls that he hadn’t realized were with Meng Yao, and his features went from hopeful to dashed quite fast.

The door to the cafe opened up and Meng Yao looked up to see NMJ and LXC coming in with a new woman that he didn’t recognize, but the boys across from him got excited to see immediately, shouting out for their jiejie. Meng Yao just sat back, feeling a little sick, entirely unsure what to do now.

The kids are playing together. A-Zhan is staring at A-Ying in a way that suggests he can’t figure the boy out, and A-Ying won’t stop poking at him like he’s some sort of toy. A-Zhan, for his favor, seems content to let him. A-Sang, as usual, abandoned all of them to draw with the twins.

Admittedly, Meng Yao might have been holding the baby a little bit tight when he finally agreed to go to a private table with JZX, but he hadn’t really calmed down from the request until JZX said NMJ could come with, and it takes a gentle hand putting pressure on his neck until he lets up the tense way he’s holding little Xuanyu at Mingjue’s guidance.

He can’t do this. They can’t do this. He’s had Xuanyu for almost six months now, he’s /bonded/ with the little termite. He’s watched the baby’s first steps, holding onto the couch as he tried to climb up to be with his sisters. He’s cut back on work hours.

Their father suggested he cut back on work all together. That comment had solidified it for Meng Yao in a way that nothing ever did before. Their father wanted him truly captive and reliant on his benevolence.

Zixuan, for his part, looks genuinely sorry. ‘I never came here to worry you. I don’t know what you /think/ I’m here for, but I promise I have only the best intentions, and I don’t want to take Xuanyu away.’

Meng Yao goes even more tense if possible, and his voice is shaking. ‘Don’t... don’t /want/. Do you /intend/?’

Zixuan makes a horrified little noise, shaking his head. ‘No no no, of course not. Not that either I promise.’

Meng Yao nearly sagged in place, tiredly turning the fussing child in his arms so he could gently bounce him, letting Xuanyu hold onto his thumb while Meng Yao forced himself to relax.

Zixuan sounded so desperately sad when he spoke again, and Yao could see tears in his eyes. ‘I’m... I’m so sorry he did this to you. I didn’t even know about the girls till they showed up.’

Meng Yao nodded a little, unsure what to say beyond a shrug. ‘If I had been less young, less naive, maybe I wouldn’t have so eagerly agreed just so he would have a reason to stay in my life. That doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever I have to to keep them.’

Zixuan nodded. ‘Of course, I would never want to do that. Listen, I didn’t know about the girls, or even if you wanted to keep Xuanyu, so I didn’t bring the paperwork with me, but I do know a way to get you out of all of... /this/.’

Meng Yao’s brows furrowed. ‘This?’

Xuanyu nodded slowly. ‘Father still pays for everything for you. Apartment, utilities, bills, all that goes through him. I, as his heir, have access to all those records. It’s supposed to be mother’s job, but she refuses to touch anything that has to do with fathers... illegitimate kids.’

Meng Yao doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who would talk so frankly about all this. It was oddly refreshing. Even NMJ and LXC didn’t want to admit their father had dug him a financial grave and was slowly burying him alive with the kids.

He frowned. ‘I can’t even move in with Mingjue or Xichen because he’s a raging homophobe who thinks I’ll corrupt the kids that he cares so little for he doesn’t even properly give us enough to survive off of.’

Zixuan looked honestly distressed at that. ‘Oh. Fuck that’s worse than I hoped for. I’m so sorry.’

Meng Yao sighed, moving to look out the window. He shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’m /forbidden/ from having a job. It’s just harder with three kids. Mingjue and Xichen have been helping out for years, he just doesn’t know it because he doesn’t realize that banks aren’t the only way to keep track of finances now days.’

Mingjue tolled his eyes, his thumb moving gently against Meng Yao’s neck. ‘It’s like the old man doesn’t even realize PayPal exists.’

Zixuan snorted. ‘He really doesn’t. That takes care of half of what I’m here for. Even if he was giving you enough that you didn’t have to worry about food or bills, I would still be here to give you the access info to an account I set up for you last week. When the papers are signed, the only thing anyone but you will be able to do is put in the money. No one but you can close the account or take anything out.’

Meng Yao looked at him in shock. ‘Why would you do that?’

Zixuan made a stressed out angry noise, nose wrinkling in the same way Yao’s did when he was mad. ‘Because, I’ve seen his finances. What he’s giving you barely counts as pocket change to his bloated rich ass. I could drop a five million on you right now to ask you to move away and never come back and he wouldn’t even /notice/ because that’s how little that amount would be to him. He wouldn’t even realize you four had left until he realized he couldn’t find any of you.’

Meng Yao considered it for a moment. ‘Why /dont/ you do that?’

Zixuan’s expression was pure distaste. ‘Because I don’t have any reason whatsoever to hate any of you. I feel terrible that you made the mistake of being fathers newest whipping dog, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to pity you. You’re in a bad position, and I’m here to help you out of it. But I’m also not going to leave you without financial support. You may want to keep the kids, but these weren’t your mistakes to begin with, and father has been punishing you for years for it.’

Mingjue snorted, sitting back with his arms crossed. ‘You really don’t like your dad, do you kid?’

Zixuan shook his head. ‘Not particularly, no. Other than the bank account, I can convince father to give over full custody of the kids to you. No possible way to get any of them back.’

Meng Yao blinked at his half brother, sitting up straighter again, looking at him in shock. ‘How would you do that?’

Zixuan shrugs. ‘He’s not the only manipulative one in the family. I could get him to panic and drop custody entirely.’

And so that’s the story about how Meng Yao had a coffeeshop romance and also ended up with some kids out of it. Later on he and Mingjue and Xichen all move in together in a huge new house with all the kids and they’re. Happy.

[greekowl87]

Fic: It Must Be a Christmas X-File!

A/N: Post-ep ‘How the Ghosts Stole Christmas’ with mentions of ‘Christmas Carol and ‘Emily.’ I don’t think this is a stand out awesome fic or my best work, but I wanted to get something done for Christmas. I hope you all enjoy it. This isn’t how I imagined it turning out but with no real direction and written with less than 24 hours with holiday activities, I’m happy with it. Still, I hope you like it. Fluff. Implied smut but I just didn’t have time to get into it. P.S. No beta so apologies for crappy dialogue and typos :( I hope it doesn’t suck too badly.

Tagging @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen

.....

Scully parked her car and turned off the ignition as Mulder leaned forward to glance out the windshield. The snow earlier had bee light and fleeting. Now, the snow came down in big flakes like cotton balls sticking to everything. She chuckled lightly and remarked, “So much for a white Christmas. I bet the weathermen were surprised.”

“They were calling for rain, it was thundering last night, it was just a flurry, clear today, and now a full-on blizzard,” he commented dryly. “Remember the blizzard of 95?”

“Don’t remind me and you’re not driving home in this weather either, Mulder.”

“Aw, Scully, I’ve already caused up enough time and ruined probably enough Christmases for you. Bill didn’t seem to happy to see my face this year. Your mother tolerated me at best. Tara was Switzerland. Your nephew was cute though.” He smiled. “But I have already overstayed my welcome.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, “I was glad to have you there with me. I told you this before, I wouldn’t want it any other days. Come on. You can crash on the couch tonight.”

“Scully,” he countered.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Apparently, we shot each other, I don’t want to shoot you again for not listening to my wisdom. Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s Christmas after all, Mulder.”

He glanced at back out the windshield as the snowfall conjured up harsh New England winters he had experienced as a child. “Okay.” Mulder bit his lip and smiled. “Let me go grab my overnight bag. I’ll meet you at your door.”

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

The snow crunched under their shoes as Scully made her way cautiously up the unshoveled walkway to her apartment, warily watching for ice. She unlocked the main door and rode the elevator upwards to her third-floor apartment. She unlocked the apartment door, turned on the foyer light, and dropped her keys onto the table next to the door. In the corner by her desk, a small Christmas tree sat lightly decorated. “At least the timer came on,” she murmured to herself.

Ever since her father’s passing on Christmas a few years earlier, she tended not to decorate as much for Christmas. The tree was enough, maybe a wreath if she felt like putting in extra effort, but for the most part, she had just kept up a tree. Even then the decorations seemed less and less each year. Scully kicked off her boots by the door and instantly lost three inches. She heard Mulder’s familiar footsteps. She opened the door slightly and he pushed it open.

“It’s really coming down out there, Scully. If it keeps up like this, we might have at least six inches by tomorrow morning.”

“See, it is a good thing you’re spending the night.”

He carried his overnight bag over his shoulder and smirked. 

“What?”

“I always forget how…”

“Short?”

“For lack of a better word?”

She was smiling at him and Mulder shivered. She locked the door behind him and nodded to the couch. “Go make yourself comfortable. It’s only seven. There’s still five hours of Christmas left,” she told him. “Maybe there’s something on television.”

“A Christmas Story? A Christmas Carol? The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?” 

“Go find something, G-man. I’m going to the kitchen to get us something special. Are you hungry at all?”

“I’m good.” Mulder dropped his overnight by the couch and spied the Christmas tree in the corner. “Looks like you decorated less this year, Scully.”

“I don’t see a reason too, ever since dad died. But I’ve always loved Christmas. Ahab would take down the tree first thing day after Christmas.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I rebelled in my own little way and kept it up until January 10th give or take.”

“It looks nice,” he commented. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” she called. “I got this bottle that a friend from Quantico brought back from Dublin, Ireland.”

“A bottle of what?”

“Genuine Irish whiskey,” she called in a sing-song voice. “Since you’re not driving anywhere and it’s Christmas, come have a drink with me.”

“Agent Scully,” he crooned. 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He cast a secretive glance as Scully busied herself in the kitchen and made a quick dash to her small tree. He quickly dug out a small wrapped box that he had hidden weeks before so it would be in view when she would sit. He rushed back to her couch before she could carry the whiskey glasses over to them. “Snow is really coming down out there,” he remarked casually.

“You already said that. I could start a fire. It does get a little drafty in here.”

“I’m fine, Scully. You still have that space heater right?”

“I brought it to the basement after Thanksgiving. Remember when the heat broke?”

“Right. Well, I can show off my Indian Guide skills and do the fire for you.”

“Go right ahead, Master of the Flame.”

Mulder watched her kick off her boots and tuck her legs under her. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and sipped the whiskey amused. He could swear she was flirting with him.   He took a drink of liquid courage himself and started to build a little fire that he could feed the bigger logs into. “Thank you again, Scully, for today.”

“What part of it?”

“All of it. Coming to the haunted house, letting me spend Christmas with you and your family… thanks by the way for defending my maiden honor against Bill…” She laughed. “And now. I really, really mean it. It has been so long since I’ve had a...regular...no...nice, easy Christmas that I have actually enjoyed.”

“And you’re here now, safe from the cold. Baby, it’s cold outside,” she teased. “Come back here, Mulder. The fire started. Come enjoy your drink.”

He dusted his hands and jeans off before going back to the couch where Scully watched him with a little carefree smile he hadn’t seen in ages. He picked up his glass and sat across from her on the couch. “No place I’d rather be.”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

“Why?”

“Why did you invite me out there last night? To a haunted house of Christmas Eve?”

“To investigate…”

“Mulder, you know better than to lie to me.”

“I wanted you there with me. I didn’t want...after last year...I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”

“So you used a guise for a fake x-file to get me out there?”

“I know you would come if I asked for your help,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure otherwise.”

Mulder swished the amber liquid in the glass and took a sip. Scully, touched by his gesture, took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

He relaxed and nodded. “Hey, I think Santa left you something under the tree. He must’ve visited you last night when you were over at my place.”

She narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him and turned to look at her tree. A small box with red wrapping paper and a gold bow. “What the hell?” She set her drink on the coffee table and got up to inspect it. “Mulder…” she said. “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”

“We did and I now have an awesome book to read thanks to you. What does it say?”

She shook her head, a grin forming ear to ear as she brought it back to the couch to open. “To the world’s best G-woman, who continues to save my ass; Love, Mulder.” She sighed and shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have. I have nothing for you.”

“You do, every day.”

Scully took his hand and held it tightly. The air changed between them and she whispered, “Thank you, Mulder.”

“Now, open your present. I picked it out especially for. You myself.” She smiled and carefully picked at the taped edges to open it. Mulder smiled; she took as much time and precision as she did performing one of her autopsies. “Scully, just rip it open.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You won’t, it’s in a box!”

Scully ripped the last bit open and she inspected the small silver box. “Mulder?”

“Just open it.”

She opened the box and gasped. “Mulder. Jesus, you really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.” She inspected the two small earrings he had gotten him. Two pearls were surrounded in a thin layer of gold in the shape of a four-leaf clover. “I know you already own a pair of pearl earrings,” he started, “but I wanted to do something a little special.”

“Mulder, they’re lovely.”

“Really?”

“I mean that sincerely. You honestly didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

She closed the box and set it aside. The air changed between them again. “I’m glad you’re here, Mulder,” she whispered. She took his hand again. “Honestly.”

Mulder, feeling emboldened, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “Sorry for the lack of mistletoe.”

“I’m not complaining.” She gave a small smile. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“I don’t know how I should take that kiss.”

“What do you mean?”

Scully tucked her legs back under her again and she sipped the whiskey contemplatively. “Well, we’re friends...partners?”

“Obviously.”

She licked her lips contemplating her next words. The past few months tumulated through her head: Diana, Antarctica, and  when he said, “You’re my one in five billion.” Those ghosts had assumed that they would be perfect for a murder-suicide because they appeared to be the perfect couple. What were they? His actions were confusing; the new pearl earrings had just given her added to her confusion even more.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mulder, you drag me out to a haunted house on Christmas eve, you tell me you don’t want me to go through the holiday alone, and the earrings.”

He narrowed his eyes quizzically. “If you are going to continue to speak riddles and play twenty questions with me, Scully, I might need to get some whiskey.”

“I left it on the counter.” Mulder got up to get the bottle and Scully took the moment to examine the earrings he had just given her. Her heart warmed at the thought and the possibility it could mean more. “I really like the earrings,” she called.

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

She eyed the hefty amount of alcohol he had poured into his glass. “So back to my original question, Mulder. Where does that leave us?”

He watched her momentarily and bent forward to kiss her again more slowly this time. She savored the moment tasting the drops of whiskey on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. He broke away and smiled mischievously. “Does that answer your question?”

“It’s a start.”

“I like flirty Scully,” he remarked.

“I’m not flirty.”

Her cheeks glowed in firelight, either from embarrassment or the alcohol. “It’s both,” he said, seemingly reading his mind. “And yes you are. Whiskey.” He filled up her glass again. “A fire.” He nodded to her fireplace. “And snow.”

“And only one bed,” she finished laughing.

“I can take the couch.”

“Mulder,” she sighed lovingly. “What are we though? Really?”

“Anything you want,” he told her.

Scully tucked her arm behind her neck and rested her head on it. “Six years and you don’t want to go straight to that bed of years and make amazing love?”

“In time,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere soon with this weather. It’s just...I’ve always wondered, Mulder and after so many years…”

“What?”

“It’s nice to be…”

“Desired? Wanted? Loved?”

“For lack of a better word,” she said. She took a long sip from her drink to hide her flushed cheeks. “I just...I’ve wanted the same thing too, Mulder. The hallway?”

His eyebrows rose, almost surprised. “It’s never too late.”

“I know,” she laughed. She watched him quietly and Mulder recognized the gaze. “So, Christmas miracles?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he laughed. “Can I?”

“What?”

He kissed her again. This time, they abandoned both of their glasses in favor of indulging in the kiss. “Lucky number three,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her again. “You’re not helping if you want to relax.”

“Mulder, now you are just beginning to sound ridiculous.”

Mulder laughed, reaching for both of their glasses. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”

She took it and clinked it against his. “To a Christmas miracle.”

“A Christmas miracle.”

The glasses rang throughout Scully’s Georgetown apartment and they both downed it in one gulp. “Well,” he began, setting both glasses aside, “this honestly feels worse than high school.”

“So how do we…” They both laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. The alcohol only added to it. “Well, as a medical doctor, when a man and a woman…”

“Scully, shut up.”

“What?”

“Let’s finish this conversation elsewhere.”

“Did anyone tell you that you are horrible at innuendo?”

“Only you but I still win your heart right?”

“Always, Mulder.”

He discarded their glasses and offered his hand.

“How many near-deaths do we need?”

“Must need Good to smack us in the head. Come on, Scully.”

“It must be a Christmas X-File,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s stay here, Mulder.”

“Your couch?”

“Seems fitting,” she whispered. She initiated another kiss. She pulled him closer. “Christmas miracle, Mulder.”

“Christmas miracle, Scully.”

He smiled, lounged back, and Scully opened her last present for that Christmas.

-End.

[lolainblue]

Presque Vu -- Chapter 38

FOR THOSE NOT AWARE: 

Since it’s been a while since I posted this story, let me reiterate: This story contains smut, kink, and sexual themes. This is a poly relationship. There are threesomes. There is BDSM. If this is not for you, that is fine, No judgment here. I have many other stories to choose from. I won’t tag individual chapters in this story, as references are made to all of that repeatedly throughout, so if you can’t read some of it, you probably aren’t going to be able to read most of it, and you really should just move on to another piece. 

Raina located a few generously sized wine glasses and set them down on the counter, observing the tiny quiver in her hands as she did so. She told herself to settle down, this was only a chat, she had certainly done far wilder things with Jared than chat. But this was different. Things done in the heat of passion, drunk on lust, were easy for her. Sitting down and calmly, rationally dissecting her feelings on anything wasn't a journey she took to easily. She was determined, however, to get through this...

Looking for the corkscrew, Raina rustled through one of the kitchen drawers but came up empty-handed. With a sigh, she closed that drawer and went to open the next one. In her anxiety and haste, she yanked too hard on the drawer. It came loose from its track with a clatter, sending silverware and kitchen implements spilling across the white tile.

“Dammit!” she exclaimed as she bent down to pick up the mess. “Why the hell does someone who can't cook have this much crap in his kitchen drawers?”

“Because he likes to have other people cook for him. And he has delusions of cooking for himself sometimes,” Shannon chuckled from behind her. He bent down, his eyes crinkled in merriment as they met hers.

Raina gave him a grateful smile. “Oh, sorry. I didn't hear you come back in.”

“It's okay.” His big hand slid across hers as she went to pick up an errant pair of kitchen shears. “Let me get this for you.”

“You can help,” Raina conceded before moving on to some grill skewers that had skittered underneath the edge of the counter.

“You know, you could do to take a few deep breaths while I get this, stubborn girl. Pour some of that wine you have set out.”

“I need the corkscrew. I was trying to find it when...” Raina gestured to the mess on the floor.

Shannon fished around for a minute before locating the needed implement and pressing it into her palm. “Here. Open your wine. I've got this. Jared needs to get the catch on the drawer fixed anyway. It's been broken for months.”

Raina straightened herself up and drew a nice deep, steady, breath in through her nose, held it, then slowly exhaled. Her tension was completely out of proportion to the situation and she knew it. She took a few more calming breaths before opening the wine bottle.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Shannon murmured as he moved in behind her, hands sliding around her waist and crossing her stomach before clutching her against his own warm body.

“Only about a dozen times,” she laughed.

“Well, that's because you do. You look absolutely stunning and it's nothing to do with that dress.”

“Oh? What it is then? The stockings?” she teased.

“No,” Shannon turned her around so that she was facing him. “It's just you. You are shaking off those shadows that you've been carrying with you all this time. The more you do, the more you that comes out. And you are remarkable.”

Raina could feel the blood flushing her checks. “Not feeling particularly remarkable right now. I feel like a big old chicken, too scared of what I want to admit it.”

“That's not honest fear. It's conditioning. The world likes to tell us there's only one way to do things. It's scary when you break away from that in any way, like moving a thousand miles away from home and starting a new life.” Shannon took Raina's chin in his hand and winked at her. She couldn't help but smile back. “Don't get a case of nerves on me now, Rainy Girl. You've come too far.”

Shannon drew the calloused pad of his thumb across Raina's lower lip. Her breathing changed immediately, from something tight and anxious, to quivering but deep breaths that drew in his scent and made her head swim. Her eyes fluttered, her body reacting to his touch and proximity by a curious combination of instinct and habit. When he pressed his body against hers and pushed her back against the counter she offered no resistance. She simply slipped her arms around his shoulder and enjoyed him as his lips claimed hers. When he pulled away, she was disappointed but calmer.

“Hey, I know you guys still haven't done your thing,” Shannon murmured, his voice low and sultry. “And I would love to take you back to the bedroom right now and get you the hell out of this dress. But I need you guys to finish and honestly, I need a few things from my place. Would it be okay with you if I made a quick run over there and then came right back? I can stay if you need me to but...”

“But maybe this would be easier if it were just me and Jared at this point.” Raina finished. “Yeah. You'll be back soon though, right?”

“Of course I will,” Shannon affirmed before kissing her again. “No way am I missing out on time with you.”

Raina managed to sneak one more kiss out of him before heading out the door, still dashing in his black suit. With a satisfied hum, she filled the wine glasses and made her way to the dining room, her mind now happily settled on Shannon instead of worrying over her inhibitions.

She had enough time for a few sips of wine before Jared finally reappeared from the little office, sheets of paper and pencils in hand. He proudly presented Raina with half the stack, and then took the seat next to her.

“Thank you for the wine,” he said as he took a small sip.

Raina laughed. “The wine is for me, let's be honest. You never take more than a few tastes.”

“I know,” Jared agreed with a shrug. “I don't like the feeling of being drunk. Haven't drank in years. But it's nice to enjoy the taste sometimes, and a few sips of wine don't bother me.”

“Does it bother you that I drink?”

“No. You enjoy your wine, but I don't think I've ever actually seen you drunk on it. You don't do it to excess, it doesn't interfere with your work or our relationship, so why would I object?”

“I don't know. It just seems that most people that I've met that don't drink get kind of judgemental about people that do it regularly.”

Jared leaned over and kissed Raina's forehead. “Don't you know by now I'm not most people?”

That made Raina laugh. “I guess I do.”

Jared smiled affectionately at Raina and she reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze before turning her attention to the papers in front of her. “Okay. So what do I do?” she asked him.

“It's pretty straightforward, really. This column here,” he indicated with a tap of his finger, “is for your experience level with that particular activity. You can indicate it however you want, but beginner, intermediate, advanced is probably easiest. If you haven't done it before but you're curious, use a question mark. If it's out of the question, just put a line through the whole thing. You know what hard and soft limits are, right? We've had that discussion?”

“Yes, Jared. We've had that discussion.”

“Good. We'll consider a strikethrough a hard limit. Maybe circle if it's a soft limit? Like, you don't think you'd like it...”

“But it's not 100 percent off the table. Yeah. I understand.”

“Great. Then after that, unless there's a strikethrough, go to the next column and indicate how interested or pleasurable you find the activity, from zero to five. Zero is not at all, five means it's one of your favorite activities.”

“Well, that sounds simple enough.”

“Good. I'll fill one out too and we can compare if you want or just focus on your answers.”

Raina took a big swig of her wine and then turned her attention to the questions in front of her. They started off simply and innocently enough, asking about vagina sex and oral sex, then getting slightly more risque with anal sex and threesomes. Things quickly escalated after that, however, and Raina found herself wading through questions about rope suspension, collars, leashes, gags, and paddles. When she reached questions about branding, knife play, a section ominously titled “Other Body Fluids” she set her pencil down.

“Hey,” Jared said softly as he no doubt took in her tense posture and fixed stare. “I know there's some extreme stuff on here. People are into some pretty wild things, and it's just a comprehensive list. Don't worry about the weird stuff. Just put a line through it and move if it makes you uncomfortable. That's what hard limits are for.”

Raina felt her throat closing as she shook her head. Her eyes with hot with tears and she felt a million miles away from Jared's soft, reassuring voice.

“Raina? It's okay, Babygirl. Talk to me.”

“What's wrong with me?” Raina asked as a hot tear fell onto the paper in front of her. “Am I broken? Is that why I like these things?”

“No. No, no, no, of course not.” Jared grabbed Raina's chair and pulled it back and turned it so that she was facing him. He took her head in his hands and waited until she finally looked up at him. “You are not broken, and neither am I. What question got you this upset? Because, as I said, I know there's some scary stuff on there. Hell, I've been doing this for ages and some of that stuff freaks me out a little. I don't even like to think about it. Kinks are kinks, and I'm not judging, but...”

Raina shook her head. “No. It's not the things I don't like that freak me out. Well, okay, a little bit, but...” She swallowed hard and swiped at her eyes to clear them. “It's what I do like that scares me. It shouldn't by now, I know,” she added hastily as she saw Jared beginning to object. “And if I'm being honest with myself, my earliest sexual fantasies were of things like getting tied up or spanked. It's always been with me. But I'm realizing I like the pain aspect of it. Like a lot. That shouldn't be right, should it? I shouldn't want someone to hurt me …”

Jared took in Raina's tears before simply wrapping his arms around her. The contact and warmth calmed her, and as soon as her breathing normalized, Jared sat back up.

“It's complex. No one really has any concrete answers for all of it. But everyone's brain chemistry is a little different, and pain releases endorphins and serotonin, just like pleasure does. I just think for some people that effect is a little more intense. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. None of this does.”

“I don't want to feel bad about what I enjoy anymore. But I don't want to walk around broken anymore either. I've had enough of that.”

Jared's expression changed as understanding settled in. “Now I get it. You think because you had a breakdown under very nasty circumstances that somehow means you're broken. You've never been broken, Raina. You've been a little lost, a little underwater, a little in need of a helping hand. But you've never been broken. There are some things I don't think we're meant to manage on our own. Your reaction was understandable. Please stop beating yourself up over it. Forgive yourself.”

Raina nodded, trying to control the teas that caught behind her eyes. “I did. Go through it alone. Dan was never supportive, and my friends didn't understand. Sorrow makes some people want to reach out to you and drives other people away. Unfortunately for me, everyone around me was that second type of person. But I should have known better. I should have … I mean, the therapist said that I picked bad friends, a lousy boyfriend, so it was all my fault,”

Jared wrapped his arms around her again. “Baby, I don't think that's what that therapist meant. If it was, they're an idiot. It wasn't your fault. Please.”

It wasn't your fault. Forgive yourself. No one had ever said that to her before. Not like this. Not this plainly. Not that she had ever really heard, anyway. Forgive yourself. Dear god, why hadn't she? After all this time, why did she still blame herself for grieving the woman who had meant everything to her? Why did she still blame herself for things other people did to her? How much time and energy had she wasted on regret and self-recrimination?

A sort of absolute clarity washed over Raina, and for the first time, in the improbable setting of taking a sex quiz with one of her boyfriends, she let it all go. She grabbed onto Jared as tightly as she could and sobbed her heart out. To his credit, he let her have her meltdown, pulling her shaking body into his lap, clutching her tightly against him as he rocked her.

After what felt like hours, but was probably more like about fifteen minutes, Raina quieted herself again and moved back to her own seat. “Why is that every time I have some sort of emotional epiphany these days it's always while we're talking about sex?”

“Because it's the only time you let your walls down,” Jared explained.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“The bondage quiz or the psychotherapy?”

“Either? Both?” Jared laughed.

“Let me go wash my face first.”

Raina took her time in the bathroom, letting the cool water soothe her blotched skin before touching up her makeup a bit. When she returned to the table she picked up her pencil and finished the questionnaire without another word.

“You're not broken, you know. Really,” Jared told her as she handed him the completed stack of paper. “There are studies. Terms. This isn't a disorder.”

“Okay,” Raina replied. “I think maybe I'm finally ready to accept that. I'm sorry it took such a dramatic turn though.”

“You know, I've never had anyone break down on me before over this, but I've heard of it happening. It's more difficult for some people to process. You know you can always talk to me though, right?”

“I do. It's just not in my nature. I get that from my grandmother, I think.”

“Well, can we work on that a little more? I know my last attempt at compelling you to open up didn't work so well,” he chuckled. Raina blushed at the memory of that intense afternoon that had left all three of them a little shaken up. “But I do think we need to do a better job of communicating.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Good.” He turned his attention back to the papers in his hand. “Do you want to discuss this or should I just look through it? Do you want to see mine?”

“You can just look through it and then talk to me about anything you need to talk to me about. And of course, I want to see yours. I want to please you. A map would help.”

Jared smiled and slid his questions across the table to Raina. He leaned back in his seat and began scanning her own questionnaire. “Well, that's surprising,” he remarked after a minute.

“What is?”

“My, my. We are going to have some fun,” he chortled, a lewd grin on his face.

“What are you looking at?” Raina demanded in a bit of a panic, trying to see where on her quiz he was looking.

Jared clutched the pages against his chest before tapping his finger on the table. “Nope. You passed up the chance to discuss it. Eyes on your own paper.”

“Wait, I didn't mean we couldn't discuss it all. I just meant...”

“No, it's fine. I've got this. No questions for the witness, your honor.”

Raina laughed. “Oh, come on. I thought you wanted more talking.”

“Oh, I think we'll be talking quite a bit. But let me finish.”

Raina scowled playfully at him before looking back at the sheets in front of her. She was relieved to see that most of his answers either matched hers or were at least things she was comfortable with exploring. Some of the questions had been rather unsettling. Then came the inevitable snag. “Uhm, Jared?”

“Yes?”

“There's one here … mummification? That's where your whole body is wrapped up really tight, right?”

“Yes.”

“You have that as a four. That means you really like to do that to your partner, right?

Jared sighed. “Yes. And I see you put a line through it, so that's a hard limit.”

“So, what does that mean? You really like it, but....”

“It means that we won't do that.”

Raina sighed. “But you really like it, and ...”

“It's a hard limit for you. It is, isn't it?”

“It sounds scary and not even a little bit sexy. I guess I'm kind of claustrophobic. So yeah. But you're at a four...”

“It doesn't matter. If you aren't comfortable and enjoying yourself then it's going to be a zero for me. That's how this works.”

“I guess.”

“No, not you guess. Definitely. That's absolute how this works and how it is supposed to work. None of this is enjoyable or even okay if only one person likes it. Otherwise, what is the point of doing this questionnaire?”

“You won't feel deprived?”

Jared laughed. Raina realized he had been laughing a lot tonight, but she never felt like any of it was condescending. He seemed to be enjoying all this. “Babygirl, did you look at my sheet? Have you seen how many things I marked? I promise I can find plenty of ways to amuse myself that you will enjoy.”

This led Raina to another question, one that had been circling her brain for weeks now. “You always say you have to hold back with me. The one time I thought we really let loose, you said that wasn't even that intense for you. So what is?"

Jared's eyes fixed on Raina, his pupils large, no doubt owing to the sexy nature of their discussion. It made him look darker, almost predatory, and Raina shivered. He looked at her for a long moment before grabbing the sheets in front of her and spreading them out.

“There,” he said, pointing to a section under “Impact Play”. “And there.” This time he indicated a section under “Gear”. Then he drew a circle with his finger around the entire “Predicament” subsection. “And that.”

Raina blinked at him, and her pulse quickened. Those sections had a lot of question marks for her, but also her biggest concentrations of fours and fives. She wasn't sure if the tingles running through her limbs now were fear or arousal, and her imagination had started to run wild. “Sir,” she managed to squeak out, suddenly unable to speak his name.

Jared quickly flipped to those sections on her sheets, taking them in. He let out a deep breath. “Well,” he turned back toward her, his eyes darker than before, his almost menacing leer making Raina's mouth run dry. “I think you can stop worrying about mummification. I think we're going to find plenty of ways to amuse each other.”

“What's up, sex nerds?” Shannon's playful voice called from the entryway as he slammed the door behind him. Raina and Jared both jumped at his sudden reappearance, and Raina felt her cheeks heating up as her gaze dropped to her lap. “Put down those number two pencils. It's naked time.”

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @fyeahproudglambert @pheenixpeterson @snewsome756 @thepromiseofanend @llfd1977 @lostinletoland

[theexistentiallyqueer]

Sorry to bother, but where do autistic and adhd brains overlap? Because both are neurodivergent (and beautiful, I agree) But how can I find out which behaviour belongs more to me being autistic (got diagnosed this year) and which is adhd? (No Matter What Deadline, after several years in hostile environment (failed university, then call center work) I panic. Hard.) How do I disentangle adhd and autism to find out what strategies to use to function better?

Please don’t feel like you’re being a bother, because you’re not! Honestly the fact that someone is coming to me to ask ADHD questions makes me teary-eyed, because I’ve fought so hard to learn to function with ADHD that people Asking Me Things like I’m a trusted expert just makes my heart grow three sizes, the opposite of the Grinch.

I’m probably not the best person to ask about how ADHD and autism overlap specifically, especially if you’re taking this from an autistic POV. And I’m also not a behavioral expert, which is a very strong preface. But I can (and am very happy to) talk a bit about my experiences with ADHD and how I’ve learned to make things work for my brain.

I’m going to put this under a cut, if that’s okay with you, anon. It got kind of long and I don’t want to overrun anyone’s dash. And you can always, always ask me ADHD questions, and I’ll try my best to answer.

My ADHD tends to manifest specifically in the following ways:

Extreme hyperfixation that has its own varying degrees (e.g., I’m really into Fire Emblem: Three Houses, but I have so lack of interest in Byleth/Claude that my lack of interest feels like an actual void)

An inability to process feelings regarding things other people care strongly about that I don’t. If we’re using the same fandom example: I could rant forever about how Byleth/Edelgard gives me ALL THE FEELS, but if I friend I care about started to talk about Byleth/Claude, I would immediately lose all interest in the conversation and struggle to react in a way that doesn’t present me as a selfish monster who doesn’t care about the person I’m talking to.

I tend to monopolize conversation if I’m given the opportunity because I LOVE getting the chance to talk about my hyperfixations. If someone cuts me off when I’m really into a topic, I get incredibly irritated and have to try to restrain from myself from acting petty in response. The number of times I have smiled my mouth is a knife and said, “ANYWAY, as I WAS SAYING…” is beyond count.

I don’t recognize or remember people until I have something meaningful to associate them with. I also don’t tend to notice things that don’t clock themselves as Important in my brain. I usually describe this as “background furniture.” Even PEOPLE become background furniture. A girl I work with mentioned a person on her team had quit, and I’d literally walked by that person’s desk earlier that day and didn’t notice it was empty, because that person and the entire space they occupied was background scenery.

If something affects or touches me personally, it hits me Very Personally. I had a complete fucking breakdown watching the video of Philando Castille’s shooting, because I heard his daughter crying while she watched him getting shot and went down onto a spiral of personal loss over my own father to gun violence and started to immediately correlate the two. Separating ADHD brainness from my  whiteness is complex and hard and (said sarcastically) so, so much fun.

The direct inverse of that are things like: I’m talking to my mom, who’s telling me about a high school friend of hers just got into a horrific vehicle accident and is in the ICU. My mom then goes on to give me regular status updates on this woman I don’t know. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s surgery. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s family’s attempt to find an adequate rehab center. They find a rehab center, and my mom shows me how her friend decorated her daughter’s room. My mom shows me a video of the girl working with a physical therapist, who gets her to push herself upright with a walker and take her tentative steps. “Awesome!” my brain thinks. “Great!” my brain thinks. All of it spans over several days, weeks, months. I have nothing to do with this constant influx of information. I don’t know how my brain should file it. I don’t know this woman who was injured. I feel for her in theory because no one should ever have to go through that even though so many people do, but I haven’t ACTIVELY PRETEND like I personally am invested in the situation or else my mother gives me Concerned Eyes because I seem to be In A Bad Mood Today.

When it comes to organization, I tend to lean towards hyper-organization rather than hypo-organization. By which I mean I over-organize to combat the fact that ADHD often results in disorganization, and disorganization results in chaos, and chaos gives me COMPLETE PANIC ATTACKS. At work at one point, I had my emails auto-tagging every incoming email based on the email type, on top of tagging for my clients. Every label had a different color, and it all made sense to me, because I’d made it. When my team had cover my stuff on a day I was out, my inbox was such a horror show that it left them feeling drained and distressed.

Let’s talk about socialization! I have a rocky relationship with my childhood best friend. When I discovered social justice in college, I started picking fights with everyone over everything Problematique. The first major fight I had with my best friend at the time was because she felt I was over-aggressive towards a mutual male friend of ours. She was probably right, because I know the kind of bullying behavior I later developed. I thought I learned from it. After the 2016 election, I messaged her on FB, thinking I had a sympathetic ear, to say that seeing her mother post constant messages of support for Trump and sharing stuff dismissing Trump’s sexual assault allegations was particularly hurtful considering I’d told my friend that my mom had been sexually assaulted.. I’m not going to share what she said, but she wasn’t in the wrong. We didn’t talk for several months after that.

Speaking of her! When she started dating the guy she’s now married to, at one point I asked her if they’d had sex yet. I asked it because I thought it was a thing you were Supposed To Talk About as friends, and also because I was, in a way, morbidly curious, because I’m grey-ace and queer. She confirmed that they had, but I still felt so icky and uncomfortable about that for so long afterwards. It was only after I started to understand that I’m not cis and not allo that I really understood why: I was forcing myself to perform what I thought female friendship was based on how it’s portrayed in media, and it’s only once I began to understand that I’m on the ace spectrum and that I’m nonbinary that I really started to understand how forced mainstream conversations of attraction are.

I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud all the time! I live with my mom and I socialize with my mom and when we’re in public spaces and I’m talking about something that interests me, she always, always, always feels like she has to shush me. What makes it ironic? If there are other people being loud around me, I can’t function. I can’t process the noise. It’s EVEN WORSE if they’re speaking in another language, because if it’s English I can process the words at least, but if it’s another language, it’s just pure, inescapable sound that I know has meaning but can’t intuit, and if I can’t understand something, that’s as bad as dying.

From what I’ve read about autism, here are ways I THINK my ADHD traits overlap with autistic traits:

I can’t read facial expressions. I think I have a better concept of emotional nuance in facial expressions than someone who’s strictly autistic, but I’ll still panic when I see a smile that isn’t bland enough. RDS (rejection-sensitive dysphoria) will kick in. They hate me, they hate me, they hate me, is the track my brain will play on repeat until I’ve drunk myself into oblivion. Whenever someone smiles, I mistrust it immediately.

Eye contact is incredibly fucking frustrating. I understand that it’s expected, but it’s SO UNCOMFORTABLE. Why do we need to stare into each other’s eyes to understand one another? How can you people write whole treatises on the sanctity of locking gazes and finding an instant intellectual bond without realizing that eye contact that’s not called for is personally invasive?

I can’t understand flirting vs not flirting to the point that I’m absolutely paranoid someone is flirting with me, at which point I usually become hostile if I think they ARE, because DON’T FLIRT WITH ME. TALK to me!

I hate, hate, hate unsolicited physical contact. If I’m in a state of over-expression, I hate it even more. I’m not physically withdrawn, because I love hugs, and cuddles, and human touch. But when I’ve spent the entire day listening to other people talk and I have to walk into a room where people continue to talk, if someone touches me, it’s fucking No-Oh-One.

Someone is interested in a thing I’m interested in. We’ll use Persona 5 as the concept, because this honestly happened recently. I talk with the guy whose desk is across from mine about Persona 5 all the time. He’s also excited about Royal. I started going into my Sophia theory that I’ve really only lobbied at @softspokensansa. I could see, I could viscerally see, the interest drain from his expression. BUT I HAVE AN IDEA SO I WILL TALK ABOUT IT ANYWAY, and then afterwards I felt incredibly resentful that I was being filtered through a cookie-cutter drain.

It’s painful–it’s really painful!–to try to talk about my spiritual ideas with other people. I have a side blog I just started and am preppy myself to share, and I’m absofuckinglutely TERRIFIED everyone is going to write me off without looking at what I have to say. IT’S THE RSD AGAIN! Nothing I ever said has actually mattered before, so why should it now?

I feel, constantly, like I’m halfway between a point of reality and a point of something. What that something is is indefinable, but regardless of it, I exist.

I’d like to direct you to two very positive youtubers I know; I meant to do this earlier, but now feels right in terms of how I’ve written: How To ADHD and Amethyst Schaber.I credit both of them in helping me find a safe place with ADHD before diagnosis. There are stories other than yours that matter.

I wish you the best, anon! If you think you’re autistic and ADHD: given the comorbidity between the two, you probably are! And ADHD is just as beautiful, complicated, and misunderstood as autism is.

If anyone reading this can speak to living as both autistic and ADHD, please respond so I can lift your voice. And to my anon: you’re beautiful completely. I hope my story has helped you in its anyway, and I hope that you find yourself at a place of peace. It’s a struggle to get there, but it’s worth it, every step of the way.

[creatorofclay]

Mobile information

Rules

Basic RP rules and courtesies. No god modding, unless it’s something small to move the story forward.

Personal blogs do not reblog my threads, ooc posts, or headcanons. You are welcome to follow, reblog art or memes or things that I specify can be reblogged. Please please don't reblog any of my threads and RPs.

Mun =/= muse. I promise I am far better than this disaster man.

Dark themes may be present here. And in the same vein: I support writing problematic themes. This does not mean I support them IRL, it just means I support writing them in a safe space. Take that however you want.

I am open to anyone and I don’t have any exclusives, but please bare in mind that I do follow my muse. Sometimes he focuses more on certain threads than others.

DO NOT like a post multiple times or unfollow and refollow multiple times to get my attention. No one likes to see that and I WILL hard block you for it.

I am not mutual exclusive. What does this mean? It means that following is not a requirement to rp with me and that I may not follow back right away. When someone new follows, I don't always jump on and follow right away. It keeps my dash clean to people I know or talk to and interact with. Now, if you are mutual exclusive and you follow me, meaning you want to write with me, I encourage you to reach out. I do that when I follow people I want to write with, whether it be sending asks or liking starter calls or even sending a message. (I don't really do starter calls, I know, but asks are always open, even anon) If you follow because you want to write me, TELL ME.

IN ADDITION TO THIS: If you do wish to message me to start an rp or something, do NOT just message a short message or single word. If you have something to say, I would rather you say it up front. I don’t appreciate the little messages that are just meant to get my attention.

I may be open and non selective, but I DO maintain the right to deny rping with you. Especially if I know you are someone who has had issues with people in the past, immaturity or not respecting boundaries or just plain ignoring what someone says. 

To any and all Gavin muses: Default of my blog is that Elijah is an only child. I will absolutely be your brother if you'd like, I just ask that you let me know it is your intention so we can work out their relationship and childhoods (if they were together, if they knew, etc). it's the only thing I absolutely ask we plan out ahead of time. 

I work evenings(typically) in retail full time IRL so my time can seem scarce or sporadic sometimes. I only ask that you be patient with me, but you are also welcome to poke me if you feel like it’s been a while since I responded. I try to get to everything in a timely manner.

I don’t have any triggers, and I tag everything that is triggering in my posts. If you need something specific tagged, don’t be afraid to ask me. You can send an anon even, if it helps. All triggers are tagged "tw trigger" from me

My side blog is a Simon blog! @itisnothingtodie! He used to be his own account, but when my activity shifted over here to Elijah, I figured it was best to keep him much closer. He is still very low muse at the moment, but if you are interested in him feel free to message me there!

I also now have @finalfcrm, which is my special RK900 blog! My special boy, interact at your own risk ;)

Also be aware if you follow him I follow back from this blog.

Icons are gifts from the lovely @rob0badge uwu

Be gentle with me I am soft. But, I am always happy to make new friends! 

Chloe is also a muse here!!

Private/By request only for any long form RP and any sort of friendships or romantic ships. Everything with her should be discussed before hand to help me out. (Chloe isn't as straight as Elijah, so anyone is welcome. Chloe is welcoming to all love and new to relationships outside of her home. Just bear in mind courting her means dealing with Elijah to some extent)

Asks to Chloe are open to EVERYONE. You need only specify if it is for her. Asks by default are answered by Elijah.

I will not rp Chloe with any Elijah blog at all. This is because her personality is based very heavily on Elijah’s, and my portrayal of him naturally, so it won’t make much sense for her to be one way when other Elijah’s are not the same as mine. (@repliicantceo is the only exception because Eli and Elliot are not actually Elijah)

Chloe was meant to have her own set of tags, but I've changed my mind about that lmao All interactions will still be tagged either Elijah ic or Chloe ic. She will still have her own musing and aesthetic tags

When it comes to shipping…

I am multi-verse and multi-ship, however I will only ship with female muses.

All romance will only be with those over 18 please.

I ship chemistry above all else. If you feel like our characters could have something, let me know! We can talk it out to see how it would go! And also at the same time, I encourage you to follow on if your muse has a crush. Unrequited drama can be very interesting.

Be aware that if you include yourself into a verse with a certain muse I already ship with, there will be drama and choices will have to be made. All interactions are default verse Elijah unless specified otherwise.

That being said... I am also open to poly-shipping if it interests you~

Mun

My name is Ash, I’m 26, she/her pronouns, and I (still, i know) have a deep love for Detroit: Become Human.

My primary RP blog in the fandom was Simon for months, but, Kamski has always been an interesting character to me. He’s exactly the kind of villain/antagonist that I really like. Mysterious, ulterior motives, and fascinated by the main character in some way.

I am incredibly shy, but I’ve been trying to come out of my bubble, but, don’t be afraid to approach me with something if you want. Even if its just to ramble about something in your life or a headcanon you came across. I love it all.

I have a discord, it is much easier to reach me there. Just ask me for it. I am always online on mobile, don’t let the offline status fool you. 

Verses/Timelines found here!!!

History

muse relationships here!

Elijah Kamski was born on July 17th, 2002. He attended the Universirty of Colbridge at a young age and was a bright pupil to Amanda Stern. After graduating at the age of 16, he went on to found CyberLife, moving to Detroit to begin his research into creating domestic intelligent androids. It took years to develop his formula for thirium, but he was finally able to use it the way he wished.

In 2022, his android became the first to pass the Turing Test. Kamski’s thirium 310 solution proved to the world that the artificial beings were ready to move to production. The original, RT600 model, became Kamski’s star, and one he treasured. She was his personal assistant as he worked to create more and more androids, watching his company grow.

His status and company grew and grew, creating a name for himself and putting androids in every home, workplace, and office they could. He was proud of his work, but he always had a curiosity with more. He wondered if the machines he created could someday develop their own consciousness like the sci-fi novels he so loved growing up. Could it really be so easy as a single thought or number change? What if his own Chloe became her own person? Would she stay or would she leave him? Could she be her own person in the real world?

All of his questions couldn’t be answered before his mentor from his university, and good friend, Amanda Stern passed away in early 2027. With her help, he had been trying to answer his own questions, but, both of their busy schedules, along with her sudden illness, got in the way. Kamski was devastated, but, luckily he had a few good friends, including a painter who came to be better known in the 2020’s.

Determined to prove his theory about the consciousness of machines, Kamski proposed to his company the idea of sparking an android revolution. He already had the pieces needed, the perfect leader and a space to control it should things get out of hand. But, the executives didn’t like the idea. They thought he had lost his mind with his grief and was just seeking other outlets. But, sparking an android revolution without any real way to stop it was a terrible idea for business. They old Kamski maybe he just needed a break from it all, give himself time to grieve on his own time. Kamski took the action to heart as a betrayal and stepped down from his position.

He continued to work for the company for a year or so, working on his side project in secret. During this period, he retrofitted his “perfect leader” instead to be a caretaker for his dear friend after he was in an accident. No longer worrying about trying to spark the revolution, he left the programs needed for it inside him, but, took away his connection to the main program he would need to control it.

Finally deciding to officially leave the company, Kamski took his original RT600 he built, as well as a couple ST200s, to keep him company as he isolated himself from the world in his home. His house was built on the edge of the lake, overlooking the peninsula that the CyberLife tower was built on. He saw fit to still keep watch on his old company, if only for curiosity’s sake…

As for Chloe herself…

The RT600 spends her days at Elijah’s side, caring for him and making sure his life doesn’t fall apart. With a personality penned by Elijah Kamski himself, she resembles her creator in more ways than one. She can be just as clever, just as sneaky, and is absolutely protective of those she cares for. A loyal machine with the freedom of a deviant, but she’d never truly leave Elijah.

(To be updated if necessary)

[pearlsparable-archive]

[ Hi guys, it's me, hi, I'm Silas. So I was talking to donavenganza this morning and it made me realize that I'd been holding onto a mindset from dwrp that's not exactly applicable in tumblr rp. Basically what I've been doing is this: There are several people who, whenever I see them float across my dash, make me go, "Wow, I really super duper want to do more things with them. I know, I should send them a meme!" And then I don't. Because I feel guilty.

Because right now, as I live and breathe, I have 12 drafts from various people that I need to get to. And 14 other drafts that are all for forbroadside. You see, back when I was playing on dreamwidth (and Amanda has touched on this is much greater detail over here, definitely go and read it. Because you could replace her with me and Hector with Jack and it's 100% the same situation), you wouldn't be able to get any threads from anyone if you weren't playing in a game. Even on the specifically designated meme communities. But, in order to keep your place in the game, you needed to have proof of activity every month. Most games, as such, would make you prove that you had written 10 replies, all in one thread, over the course of that one single month. Replies from the month before would not qualify for activity. Some games would make you prove more than that. And so, lately, I've been stuck in this mindset of I need to get all of these drafts written and sent out before I do anything else that looks like fun. I haven't been rebloging memes. I haven't been sending anyone else memes. I've have gone around liking memes. It's very possible I liked a meme you threw up. It's because I told myself "I'll reblog this once I've done all my drafts." Because I feel like have to have this proof of activity. Because if I don't prove that I'm active enough, I'm scared no one will play with me. Because that's how things went on dreamwidth. I went to bed last night feeling sick with guilt because I didn't get a single reply done, despite putting up a message that I wouldn't be able to. That's how bad this is affecting me. dwrp is toxic in a lot of other ways too, ways that are still affecting me. That's why, when I reblogged that one meme that was something to the effect of "tell me something you like about my writing", I asked for crit in the tags, instead of letting it be. Because it's so Frowned Upon in the dwrp community to ask for validation and praise. Which is why I'm now hardwired to go "no, don't give me love, give me ways to improve." Because if you were seen as asking for validation (or "buttpats", as it was) too many times, there was The Fear that you would be namedropped on one of the anonymous communities. And if you were namedropped, then that was it, that was the end of roleplaying for you. I can't tell you how many times I went and checked to make sure I hadn't taken a step slightly out of line and gotten my name written up for everyone to see and make horrible comments about and drag me through the fucking mud. rp is my hobby, and it's one i greatly enjoy, but I lived every day with The Fear. I lived near six years with The Fear. I've only been on tumblr rp for a month. Less than, actually. But it's already so much more lively and open and freeing and kind and willing to do things. I've written more in the past three weeks than I have in the past two years. I literally can't tell you how goddamn refreshing it is to do something with someone and have a reply something other than, "lol what a silly pirate!" Like, I have a chance to develop actual relationships with people here. I have a chance to do threads with people who take Jack Sparrow seriously. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I could actually find someone, or multiple people, to ship Jack with. Because in the near six years I've been playing my boy, I've only had one person be willing to make a serious attempt at a ship with Jack. One person. Because anytime Jack tried to flirt with someone, he was met with amusement and subsequently brushed off. Like, I don't reblog any shippy memes because I've never even had a chance to even think about that side of Jack. Whenever I look over at Jack and ponder some of those questions, he just shrugs at me. But here, I could have ships. I could have Sparrabeth. This is the first chance in six goddamn years I could make an attempt at Sparrabeth. The most popular pairing this series has. And that's not to mention Jack and Angelica!!! Or Jack and Esmeralda. Or Jack and literally anyone else. So I just. Wanted to make this post as a blanket apology, for not being as active as I could have been. I wanted to make this as an explanation for why I'm this way. I wanted to make this to let you know that, now I'm aware of this, and I'm going to try hard to do better, I really will. But mostly I wanted to make this to thank everyone. Everyone on tumblr has been so kind and welcoming and amazing that I literally don't know how to deal with it or how to put it into words. It's overwhelming, in a surprisingly good way, and I could not have asked for a nicer group of people to throw my dumb boy at. So shoutout to you, for reading this. Shoutout to you if you follow me. Shoutout to you if we're mutuals. But mostly just. Shoutout to all of you, for being such a fucking fantastic group of people. I love you all. <3 <b>]

[fusionfreeks]

ACCEPTED →

Welcome to the family, J! We’re so stoked to have you on board as REESE MARSHALL, and we can’t wait to get you started! Now that you’ve been accepted, please follow these quick steps:

Create your account! You’ll have 24 hours to do so. 

Turn on your ask box and submission boxes, but don’t forget to turn on anon!

Submit your account to the main and be sure to follow everyone listed on the right hand side of the main page. (x)

You’re all set! You’ll be linked to the OOC shortly after doing so, but please remember to track f:starter and tag all starter posts as such. This is so nobody misses anything coming across the dash!

And most importantly, have fun! If you have any questions or concerns, please contact an admin at any time. We’re here for you.

REESE HARVEY MARSHALL has been spotted in New York, with the face claim AUSTIN BUTLER. He is a 19 year old sophomore at New York University with an UNDECLARED major. He is the WHITE RANGER and holds the power of WATER and INVISIBILITY. He specializes in SWORD/KATANA COMBAT. [ooc info; J, 23, They/Them, EST, March 1st.]

CHARACTER QUESTIONS:

What is your idea of a perfect date? “My perfect date?! Oh, that’s a fun question! My perfect date is the kind of date where you don’t realise it’s a date until lips suddenly meet and hearts flutter and hands roam and you’re just, like, so, so happy! I mean, I wouldn’t say no to the cliché of a candle light dinner and stuff, of course, but I would never be the one organising it. I do prefer the kind of date that’s based on wild and completely random, spontaneous decisions. You know, the ones that in a movie would be edited with, like, awesome music and stuff! I want to laugh and enjoy myself with the person I’m with, not to be nervous and overthink my emotions. I mean, being in love is the side effect of being happy with someone, right? So we gotta be happy.”

What are your plans for the year? “My plans for the year? Like, until the end of this year or the next 12 months? I mean, not that it would make a difference but-, Nevermind, doesn’t make a difference. I’m stalling when I don’t even have to; I know what I want, it’s simple: I want to be happy. You know, finding a path to take, a direction to follow, a dream to chase. I love college, I’m incredibly grateful for my scholarship, and I know I’m damn lucky with my whole family-friends situation, please don’t get me wrong, but … sometimes I feel a bit lost. And again, please don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to sound melodramatic here, it’s just that-… It seems as though ever since we were, you know, given the powers, given this purpose, given this huge ability to do such vastly important things, it’s as though the small things in life have become … harder to grasp. It’s pretty damn hard to enjoy a good burger if you know how much more you could do in that moment? Should do? It’s all seems so futile, so small compared to, ha, defeating evil, so how can it still be a reason for happiness? I don’t know. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I’m trying so badly to help the people I love. Because at least when they’re happy I feel like it’s all still worth it, you know. Am I being melodramatic? I feel like I’m being melodramatic, gosh, ha. What did you put in this tea? Melodrama? Sorry for that. But yes. Finding happiness again is my plan for the next year.”

BASIC BIOGRAPHY

WHITE RANGER FULL NAME: REESE HARVEY MARSHALL BIRTHDAY: December 25th, 1997 (19) HOMETOWN: Portsmouth, New Hampshire YEAR: Sophomore (New York University) MAJOR: Undeclared  HOBBIES AND INTERESTS: martial arts, sports (football, baseball, soccer, and some ice hockey), music, playing guitar, comic books, gardening, hiking, paintball, mountain biking, and video games

ELEMENT: Water SPECIAL ABILITY: Invisibility  SPECIALTY: Sword/Katana Combat ZORD: dragon

CHARACTERISTICS

[+] POSITIVE TRAITS:

optimistic

loyal

compassionate and kind; heart of gold

athletic

playful and charismatic

[-] NEGATIVE TRAITS:

impulsive

naive

indecisive

insecure

stubborn

QUOTE: “It is the childlike mind that finds the kingdom.” —Charles Fillmore

CONNECTIONS

↳ Rory Marshall (+): Born on Christmas Day, Reese and Rory are fraternal twins born and raised in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The two grew up in a hearty home full of acceptance, love and encouragement, with little to no gender bias. Because of this, Rory and Reese were able to grow extremely close, participating in many of the same activities and groups while growing up and rarely experiencing any form of separation.

Many expected the bond between them to fade over time, and though they have found individual interests unique to each of them, they've only grown closer over the years. They protect each other and can always be counted on to have each other's backs. They're a package deal, whether other people understand that or not. But unlike his ‘older sister’ (as Rory never lets him forget), Reese isn't quite sure of what he wants to do after college, and because of that, he feels a fair bit of pressure to perform well as to not disappoint his family or waste his opportunity at NYU. ↳ Liam Sayoc (+): Liam is Reese’s roommate and one of the nicest people he has ever met. If he couldn’t room with Rory, he’s glad to have gotten stuck with Liam who is quickly becoming one of his best friends. ↳ Griffin Sayoc (+) The captain of Reese’s football team and the cousin of his roommate, Reese has great respect for Griffin and his leadership on the field. Especially when it comes to his sister and letting her on the field. ↳ Sawyer McClintock (+) The first time Reese had to morph, he was with Sawyer. As the white and yellow rangers, they saved Liam together, and because of that he trusts her with his life. He knows that his sister is too close to her, but he hopes they work it out. Somethings just make sense, and the two of them are one of them. Even if Sawyer isn't ready yet.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Sierra you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Florence Wilson!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

The way you fleshed out Florence and made her entirely your own was something that really struck us -- given that there’s not a lot to go on with canon information for her. But you built her up in our heads, and it was beautiful to see a fully formed and fleshed out character come to life in our imaginations! We’re so excited to see her on the dash and see what potential plots you come up with for her! *your faceclaim change has been accepted

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hey there! I’m Sierra, I’m 22, and I use they/them/their pronouns. I live in the EST (GMT -5) time zone! I also play Hestia here.

ACTIVITY

I try to post at least four out of seven days of the week, though I’ve been getting better at time management as the semester winds down! I’d probably give myself a 7 out of 10? .

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I think I originally found the RP through the HP RP tag, though I’ve been playing Hestia here for a while now!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Most frequently I identify with Luna Lovegood; she is fiercely loyal, intensely kind, and willing to fight for anyone she cares about. She has a unique point of view and may not quite understand the world around her at times, but at the end of the day she is one of those people who wants to listen to the people around her and make the world a better place.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nothing at the moment! But if you want some fun facts about me … here we go? I want to be a Rabbi and I’ve been teaching myself Hebrew, German, and Dutch over the past year or so. I also have read the Harry Potter series in Spanish.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Florence Irene Wilson;

Florence, from the Latin Florentius or Florentia, means “flourishing” or “prosperous.” It is also the name of the city where Mr. Wilson proposed to his wife.

Irene, from the Greek Eirene, means “peace” and is derived from the name of the Greek goddess who personified peace, or one of the Horai. It is also the name of Florence’s late maternal grandmother who died months before Florence was born.

Wilson, from the English ‘son of Will.’ It is a surname that has been in the family for generations.

FACE CLAIM

If possible, can I change Florence’s faceclaim to Felicity Jones? I feel like she has a lot of similar aesthetic qualities to Troian Bellasario but is more of an underused faceclaim. My second choice of a faceclaim for Florence would be Willa Holland; my third choice would be Camila Mendez.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

Florence has always found a reason to fight. She is too strong-willed and too outspoken to let something that bothers her go unnoticed. There are beginnings of a fire within her, sparks flying, hoping that a fire will catch on and burn through the darkness of her current world. As a girl who cares far too much about justice, Florence is never satisfied with the way that things are. She is the first to stand up when someone asks for help and the last to step down when things look bleak. Still, despite all of this, Florence doesn’t just want to fight. She wants to make some kind of a difference, to foster real, tangible change. The Order wasn’t doing enough to satisfy her; they were careful, slow, and too under the radar. After leaving Hogwarts, it became clear to Florence that there was too much at stake. She is a Muggleborn, the only witch in her family. With her right to existence on the line, this war is far too personal for her not to join in Aversio’s efforts. 

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Florence/Chemistry

Florence dedicates herself wholly to a cause, whether it be her work with house elfs or her dedication to Aversio’s cause. It isn’t often that someone catches her eye romantically; sure, there are people she doesn’t mind looking at … people too good-looking to ignore. While she isn’t entirely opposed to having a one night stand or a fling, the idea isn’t the most attractive in the world. She would prefer a long-term relationship, but only if it was with the right person. For most of her life Florence has been too occupied with her work and special interests to truly pursue a relationship, though, and she doesn’t see that changing any time soon. That being said … things can always change!

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOODBOARD

https://68.media.tumblr.com/42a4f4abdd52d83c7d191732289cee6c/tumblr_or3oq4nFbX1vgn58eo1_500.png

- A FEW HEADCANONS

Myers-Briggs Personality Type: ISTJ-A, The Logistician

“Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.” Wand Type: 10.5 inches, Cedar wood, unicorn hair core

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“This sounds absolutely ridiculous, but I would love to create a spell that could check my writing for any sort of grammatical errors. It’s not that I’m a horrible writer – it can just be so time consuming to go through something twice, three times, or even more, only to find that I’ve messed up something as simple as a semicolon. I’m sure someone’s thought of it before … though I’ve never heard of it, so … maybe it doesn’t?”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Merlin, that’s a tough one. I suppose I’d have to go with Ted Tonks, though. He’s just one of those people that I trust implicitly with those kinds of things. He seems pretty smart and levelheaded, and he just gives off vibes that he would protect someone and stand by them no matter what. – and I guess I’d bring my pepper spray, seeing as it hasn’t failed me yet.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“When I know that something is right for me personally but isn’t best for everyone else, it can be difficult to prioritize things. I don’t like putting myself first … but there are times when its necessary.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“I never want people to say that I don’t try or that I’m fighting a meaningless fight. People who can’t try to understand what I’m doing probably haven’t had something to fight for in their lives.”

WRITING SAMPLE

Sitting alone in her parents’ living room, Florence felt a burning inside of her. It started in her head, rearing its ugly, searing pain each and every time she recalled a Missing Person poster or read another obituary describing a thoughtless, unnecessary death. It travelled down to her cheeks, red and filled with a kind of fury that she hadn’t felt before. There were no tears left inside of her. Even if she wanted to cry, she couldn’t bring herself to let a single tear drop from her eyes. To cry would be to surrender to the pain, to let it overwhelm her and take away any agency that she felt left. And yet, no matter how much Florence wanted to fight the pain, to stand up and shout, to throw something across the room just to watch it break, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It weighed her down, pressing on her shoulders with the pressure of a thousand heavy bricks. At school, just a few short years ago, ignoring news from the outside world seemed easy. She didn’t care as much for updates from the Daily Prophet as she did for letters from her mother and father. The Wizarding World, even after all the years she’d spent at Hogwarts, still felt a little foreign to her. Florence connected more to news about Parliament than the Ministry and wanted to hear more about ongoings at home than the winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile. But now that she had graduated and returned back to the comfort of her Muggle home, she yearned for a way to stay in the loop about the war in the Wizarding World. While the Prophet’s updates came steadily, they were impersonal, reducing people with families, hopes, and ambitions to nothing more than a name and a ‘Last Seen’ date. Panic set in nearly every time she opened the paper. Which of her friends would be the first to appear on the list of missing or murdered people? When would the war finally hit her too close to home? Florence tore the Obituary page from the paper, crumpling it in her fist. Kenzie Blair. The young woman’s face swam in her memory. It must’ve been at least a year since they spoke; Florence never considered the younger girl to be more than an acquaintance, a somewhat-annoying, bit-too-chatty Hufflepuff that just wanted to make friends. In her mind, Kenzie had always seemed a bit younger than she actually was, eternally fourteen no matter how old she actually turned. Now, of course, the younger woman would always be seventeen, barely old enough to apparate, much less to make a name for herself. Florence got up from the bed and crossed the room to throw away the balled-up paper. Looking at it only infuriated her, making her want to scream. Almost without thinking, Florence headed to her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt lay on her desk, just where she’d left it for the past month. Taking a piece of paper, Florence shakily wrote three short words on the page before shoving it into the envelope and sending it off to Kingsley with her owl. “Let me fight.”

[tanuki-kimono]

Japanese folk tales #36 – Waiting for Spring

(for anon who asked for a tale with weasels. I hope you’ll like it ^^)

Find my tales tagged here or visit my blog for both english and french versions. Wish me to cover a special youkai or subject? Contact me, I’ll try to accommodate ❤️

Once upon a time, there was a village nestled deep in the heart of the snow country. It was a faraway land, far from the mellow life of the capital. Enshrouded in white during long Winter months, its people were known to be hard to the task, stubborn and resilient.

Surrounded by heavy snow, villagers only get out from time to time, wearing massive coats and boots made of straw to fend off sharp blizzards. Most days, they kept to their homes, tending to daily tasks. They weaved and sew clothes, sculpted and sharpened tools, tended their animals and waited. Waited again and again.

In every houses, all eagerly yearned for Spring. For them, a softer snow felt like a victory, the cracking of melting ice was a joyful music. And villagers watched for the first sign of budding on grim trees or the first bird finally returning.

Yet, one year, nothing happened.

Days passed and turned into weeks. But the land did not stir. Snow stayed as thick as ever, blanketing the whole world. And icy winds kept howling in sudden gales.

Hiding in their homes, the villagers despaired:

– Our supplies will soon be running low. What will we do then?

– If the snow doesn’t melt soon, we’ll never be able to gather crops this year!

Everywhere, the laments spread until one day, a young man named Saburo rose and said:

– Something must have infuriated the gods. We must find what it is!

His two older brothers stood up, nodding vigorously:

– You’re right! But we won’t let you venture outside alone: let’s do this together!

As their worried mother shed tears, the three of them put on their bulky coats and boots and bid farewell to the village.

The wintery air was still and bright. Not a sound could be heard but their heavy steps treading upon the snow. All around them, as far as their eyes could see, was nothing but shimmering white under a tranquil sky.

The older brother, Ichiro, walked ahead, opening the path. The second, Jiro, followed him, searching for any sign of life on this frozen land. And Saburo brought up the rear, alert and careful.

Jiro finally muttered, his breath coming in misty puffs:

– There’s nothing here. Seems everything is dead!

Ichiro stopped and turned to him. He grunted:

– Hush you fool! You’re gonna bring us bad fortune!

He had just finished his sentence that the sky darkened. A freezing gale suddenly knocked Ichiro to his knees. As quickly as it had appeared, the gale vanished, leaving but snowflakes dancing in the air.

– Brother !

Jiro and Saburo rushed to his side but Ichiro waved them off indignantly:

– I’m fine, I’m fine.

His brothers helped him up and the three men resumed their journey.

Ichiro walked twice as fast, angry that his younger brothers had seen him on his knees. Saburo shook his head, smiling, as Jiro teased:

– If you wanted to play in the snow, all you had to do was ask brother!

The older man sighed but did not answer, keeping his gaze on the horizon. Swirling snow caught his eyes. A hundred feet from them, a strange whirlwind was drifting around a bare tree.

– What the devil is…

In a blink, the whirlwind went straight at them. Ichiro only had the time to threw himself on the side, his warning cry stuck in his throat.

Moment later, Jiro laid on the ground. He let out a distressed sob:

– My legs! My legs!

His brothers froze. Jiro’s straw boots were torn apart. Underneath, the poor man’s skin was shredded in precise and clean cuts. His red blood dripped on the snow.

Using his knife, Ichiro immediately tore his outer kimono into strips to tend his wounds the best he could.

Saburo, eyes wide, brought a shaking hand to his face:

– Brothers… I-know what we’re after…

Before anyone could stop him, he began to run, madly wobbling in the snowy field toward the lone tree. But before he could go far, the strange whirlwind appeared from thin air.

Saburo throw himself to his knees, brow lowered down to the snow. Gale encircled him with chilling tenders, wailing. The agitated young man risked an eye opened. Small supple silhouettes were running in the wind. He shrieked:

– I am sorry, oh so sorry! I shouldn’t have forgotten you!

The whirlwind slowed and finally stopped. In front of Saburo now stood three weasels, sharp razor-like claws glimmering in the wintery light. Behind them, nestled in a snowdrift, laid an old sickle battered by the elements.

– You helped me with so many harvests yet I’ve left you under that tree. What harsh times you must have face all alone in the cold!

In perfect harmony, the weasels tilted their heads to the side. Then one approached the sobbing man, its black beady eyes unreadable.

A soft wind blew and they were gone.

In his hands, Saburo now held the weathered sickle. An amazed cry shook him from his daze: behind him, Jiro was back to his feet, his legs completely healed. No trace of blood was left in the snow.

In the field, the bare tree was now a dashing spot of color, its branches bearing fresh budding leaves.

Spring at last was on its way.

Notes:

The snow country (Yukiguni) is the western area of Honshu between Japanese Alps and the Sea of Japan known for its heavy, several meter high snowfalls. In Spring, this abundant snow melts and irrigates fields and paddies giving bountiful crops. This remote area has been isolated from the rest of the country for centuries : court officials appointed in those “end of the earth” provinces saw those posts as a punition.

Life there was very hard, with its long cold winter months. This Begin Japanology episode give a good idea of how people managed to survive in this harsh environment thanks to solidarity and ingenious devices. Recently, the snow country has been slowly developing winter activities, hoping to attract tourists and make their region known.

The strange youkai encountered in this tale are called kama itachi (weasel sickle). They are found all across Japan but most stories come from the snow country area, especially old Echigo province (actual Niigata). Kama itachi are three weasels with long sickles-like claws running so fast in circles they create gusts of wind. If you meet a kama itachi, the first one will knock you, the second one cut you, and the third heal your wounds – often so fast you won’t realised what just happened!

Usually, youkai weasels (bake itachi) are not very dangerous monsters (they are mainly tricksters). Kama itachi though can be true demons. A lesser known version also links them to tsukumogami (objects developing a spirit with old age – and sometimes searching revenge): that’s the one related today.

[pictures sources: 1 / 2 / 3]

[summonstation]

MOBILE FAQ

Before sending a message, please look over this list of frequently asked questions to see if yours has been addressed here first. It helps keep the dash free from being clogged with repeated answers.

* this list can be updated after someone asks a question that isn’t covered by the rules / faq.

Q. How do I get my blog on the masterlist?

A. Just reblog one of the promo posts! Make sure that you have a rules somewhere. If you are an OC, please have an about page. If you have a FF / KH verse, please have it clearly listed on your blog.

Q. If my muse is from [insert series name] and not FF or KH, can I still be added to the masterlist?

A. Yes, you're just required to have a visible FF / KH verse on your blog, and to follow the tag instructions.

Q. What are WoLs counted as? Canon or OC?

A. WoLs are unique in the sense they are your oc but canonically appear in the final fantasy universe as you experience it. It's been determined that they are canonical, and will appear under the WoL category for the game they appear in. Make sure to note which game your WoL appears in as they exist in multiple games across the series.

Q. How do I get my blog added if my character can fit on more than one list?

A. Muses are categorized first and foremost by the series they appear in. They can apply for both lists as long as they are involved in that universe. For example, a Cloud muse. He originates in FF7, but also appears in the KH series. If your Cloud is entirely focused on FF7 then it’s recommended to just reblog the FF promo post. If he has a KH verse, then make sure to note that in the tags when you reblog the FF promo. He’ll be added to both masterlists. If your Cloud is solely based around his KH appearance then it’s best to reblog the KH post.

Q. I reblogged the promo post. Why haven’t I been added yet? When can I expect to be?

A. Please be patient. As mentioned before, I am but one person. Rest assured that you’re not purposefully being ignored, but any number of other reasons could be the cause for the delay. The lists generally update on Saturday, and blog updates show the last time all the notifications have been caught up on. If you reblogged a promo post after that listed date, then I may have not seen it yet. If you reblogged it before that date, it’s could be that you were either missed (if so, please message me) or you failed to follow tag instructions (if so, you’re free to try again after deleting the first reblog). If I can’t find information on your muse(s) or rules, I might set your blog aside while I add others to the list. Once I’ve added those who do have that information listed, I’ll reach out to you to ask for the information I need. If you would like to reach out to me first, then it may make me add you to the list faster!

Q. Why do I have to tag my reblog in such a specific way?

It's requested in this format to keep it simple and clean. It make it easier for me to place muses in the correct masterlist. Tagging it like this, for example [ #muse / canon or oc / single multimuse, #rp tag, #promo tag ] is fine. Tagging it like [ #musename, #canon, #single, #khrp, #promo, #keYBLADE ] is not. Reblogs like this can become easily become a nightmare to sort through and make sense of, and I'm not about that. If you fail to tag properly, you risk having your reblog dismissed.

Q. Will I be removed from the masterlist for inactivity?

A. Blogs will only be removed if the person running it requests it or it’s been deleted / archived. However, in order to keep information valid on the masterlist, if a month or two has passed with no activity or there’s a hiatus notice they’ll be given an ‘inactive’ label. This label can be removed if activity resumes.

Q: If there’s a blog on the masterlist run by someone problematic, can i let you know?

A: If problematic means an actual, genuine danger to the wellbeing of others and not a personal / easy to solve / pointless dispute, then by all means yes! Provide sources and I’ll determine if the blog requires immediate termination from the masterlist.

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A. At the moment, we’re not accepting new mods. Perhaps in the future, but thanks for the interest!