#but i also wanted to keep this to myself because

[kianamaiart]

i’m so so in love with the designs and stories of all the i dont want to be a magical girl characters, omg 🖤 a thought i kept having was that it was professional level character design, which….y’know….it quite literally is lmao. i also have a quick lore question that i’ve been dying to know the answer to: does eclipse have any human family? or will i have to wait until the finished pilot to find out? :)

aw thank you i appreciate it!

sorry to say the pilot won't answer a whole lot of lore questions. it's effectively an episode 1, used to get to know the characters on a fundamental level and establish relationships and other basic premise stuff~ there's also some things i'm still keeping close to my chest either because i don't wanna get ahead of myself or because i haven't fully thought it out yet

[blueknightmage]

Always reblog, because you never know when this can literally save someone.

Now, for the advice tips, I applied a lot of these myself, but some of the ones I'll mention might sound downright outlandish and might even include a trigger warning or two, so I sincerely apologize if I don't identify them as such. Also, not to shift the conversation, but this is specially helpful for neurodivergents and the LGBT+ community and can also be applied if you want to hide your own beliefs. Do so quietly and responsibly as best as you can.

1.- become an expert at controlled hyper vigilance. It's easy to become hypervigilant 24/7 in the danger zone, but it's equally important to not raise your stress levels to a degree you can't come back down from. True, you can be observant and ready for anything and anywhere and anytime, but learn to identify your safe times and zones. Constant, conscious, and willed hypervigilance tends to affect your brain on a level that'll make your brain be undistinguishable from that of a PTSD black ops veteran, yeah, that bad.

2.- learn ninjutsu. Yes, the art of ninja combat. I am adamantly not kidding on this one. I have been diagnosed with ADHD since 5 years old, and only a few months ago with level 1 autism. Why do I say that? Dispraxia, the disconnection of bodily movements in relation to the environment, aka clumsiness, is a part of ADHD. What does that mean for this? If I was hungry or had to move to a different part of the room so I would not get a surprise beating at night, I would crawl but honestly forget a pencil box in my backpack and it would ring as loud as a prison alarm. So, ninjutsu helped me to count and take into account everything.

Example from a real-life experience: it's 2am, I want to go to the bathroom. Tile floor, but heavy wooden door that creaks? Lift it first, then twist slowly the doorknob, wait to listen for any sounds that might betray you, now open the door just enough for you to squeeze through without dropping the door, then bring back the door and let it slowly down to rest against the doorframe without the lock clicking it to place so that from afar it looks like it's still close with you inside the room, turn slowly around on your heels to face away from the door. Now, for the walking part, (look down at your feet right now and see the outer edges? That's what you place down first on the ground to the place the rest of your foot, never walk on the balls of your feet or heels, the risk of losing balance or missteps increase by an order of magnitude you do not want to risk it.) place your feet as aforementioned, and slowly release the rest of your foot down, wait and the repeat over and over, until you go to the bathroom or wherever, and repeat the same process with the door until you are safe and sound back in your room.

Now ninjutsu helps out with more than just body movements and coordination, it'll teach you to weaponize anything in a pinch and also how to survive if you find yourself outside. To be fair, by weaponize, I do not just mean for attack mode, but also for defensive purposes. Someone comes into your room to make your head ring like a bell? Grab a pillow and a chair or stool or your backpack from school and that'll take the heavier part of whatever they're swinging your way. Need to get a baton but can't afford one? Cheap discarded copper or PVC pipes can be glued to make one that can be filled with silicone or grout filling or sand or whatever to give you some leverage, or find a tree branch than can form a Y or T-section to use as one. If you can, get a small sling bag that can fit close to your body under any shirt or hoodie or jacket, and try to keep some emergency essentials there, such as a few flattened bills tucked inside a small piece of cardboard with important phones and/or addresses, an extra charger and cable, dry fruit, a small magnifying glass to both read out stuff and start a fire, etc, anything survivalist that can help you. If you get kicked out of the house but can't walk or bike away to another house, dig up a hole carefully under a bush or shrub, and use the removed dirt to create a rim that can block out the wind or cold. Stick stuff around the house with either duct tape or electrical tape so it can be easily stored away. Be aware of any and all nooks and crannies, both inside and outside to hide stuff by taping it or pressing it or stuffing it somewhere, such as air ducts or below furniture or between the base of tree branches, while also taking measures to hide it. All of this boils down to safety of 1, yourself, 2, your belongings and items that ensure and facilitate your life and success in life as well, and 3, the concepts and activities and notions and beliefs that make you be you that can protect you until you no longer have a worry about your safety or future.

4.- any important information that can be used against you or is too valuable to be risked needs to be encrypted in some sort or manner, and the more layers of protection, the better for you. Example: you got something to hide, encode it in Willow script, but also write it from bottom to top, and write it in mirror mode. Obviously, start slowly, and get comfortable in one layer of encoding before moving on to adding another layer.

5.- now, this point is more for the religious aspects that still warrant being highly careful. All of this can be applied as well if you follow a different religion or spiritual path from your family for which you can be ostracized or ridiculed or beaten or kicked out or all of the above. Sew an extra layer of cloth into your backpack that can only be accessed from the inside bottom part to hide a small portable altar. Buy a pocket-sized notebook to keep your spell work and rituals close at hand. Download an app that can have a pin placed, like an e-diary or a journal app so you can safely store your writings and personal stuff as privately as possible. Also, depending on the OS of your phone, I've heard that some systems have apps that can change app icons to something else.

If you need any help or tips or such, let me know by DM.

May the odds be ever in your favor,

till there are no odds against you.

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

[imsofreakingtired]

Thinking ab working out w Sevika and she like corrects your form bc idk you're not doing it right and then you do get it right and she's so so proud of you n stares n smiles when she thinks you're not looking and yg r in love btw

SORRY I've sent you so many asks I js keep thinking ab her I don't have anyone else 2 yap 2 ＼(_ _)

*jumps up, slams fist on table* i need sevika x reader gym headcanons now. NOW. *realizes i have to write it myself* *slowly sits back down*

sevika workout hcs

there is literally nothing hotter in the world than watching sevika do pull ups and pushups. the muscles flexing, the sweat rolling down her neck. "Vika, you need to go do that somewhere else. I can't do my sets with you looking like that in front of me". "I--"

you tell her you want to increase the weights for your bench press and she gets all adorably concerned. you'd be offended if it came from anyone other than sevika. "babe, are you sure? eighty pounds is a lot..."

she spots you and adjusts your form, gently but firmly, because she doesn't want you to get hurt. she's not much for words of encouragement but she'll fix your posture, move your elbow, straighten your neck. you catch her watching you with the proudest look on her face when you hit a new record.

she holds down your feet as you do sit ups and kisses you on the mouth every time you come up to encourage you to do more reps (it works. your abs are dying but your lips are happy)

makes you sit on her lap on leg day to see how many hip thrust reps she can do before she caves (this is how you find out she is ticklish)

showering together after workouts obviously

good luck getting anything done on the days she hits legs honestly. if she's doing barbell squats you will spend the whole time pretending not to stare at her ass

she cannot last fifteen minutes on the treadmill because it bores the hell out of her. this baffles you because your favorite cardio is just running to aggressive music for half an hour.

sparring together in a judo class and she always lets you win because she likes it when you pin her to the ground

she checks you out shamelessly. and godspeed to the hapless soul at the gym who also happens to check you out because she's by your side in half a second, glaring daggers. ty @theyluvbix for this idea :)

[hischierjustscored]

accidentally yours.・゜・quinn hughes

summary: you barely remembered putting quinn as your emergency contact until he showed up like the universe's idea of a bad joke

a/n: this is my contribution for the winter fic exchange 2k25 by @wyattjohnston for @hanaaishi 🧡 i still owe you forever for being patient and bearing with me on this!! seriously i mean it!! thank you both for making me a part of another amazing exchange which was my first one ever but i'm so happy that i was!! it was such an experience for me diving into all this and hope i was able to do some justice on my part 🧡 i got too carried away smoothing the final edges, hence the delay again 🥺 i also changed the idea we talked about a little but i hope it's all good in the end 🧡

warnings: mentions of injuries (light concussion, ankle sprain), hospital, parents pressure, overthinking, scratchin on the surface???, and i trusted myself to do a reader insert so bear with me once more

word count: 5.5k

You remember when you were 8 and took your brother’s bike to try out his self-made wood ramps in the garden, only to fall 6ft from the side and drop straight onto your left hip. That day you found out that grass wasn’t nearly as cushy as it looked but it was your mother’s “told you so” you never forget, lingering in your ears from where you sat in the backseat on the way to the hospital.

You also remember your best friend Lia leaving you in charge of booking an Airbnb for your first trip to Austria together, and you were proud of that cozy little place you found nestled in a mountain valley. But the "cozy" and "European" charms you both imagined left you searching desperately for a hotel in the middle of the holiday season instead, and Lia didn't have to say the words. You could hear the "I told you so" for really trusting someone with the username wanderlustgirl98.

And you remember moving to Vancouver a year ago after your studies, taking up your former professor's advice to follow one of its renowned urban development programs and put your "big-picture" skills to work. He didn’t have to try hard to convince you. You’d already been thinking about it for a long time until it felt like your chance to finally prove yourself. Perhaps even more to your parents. A naive part in you hoped you'd fit into their expectations for once. But if you really did, you'd reach out more than just on birthdays and festivities, maybe even give in to that other more vulnerable part in you and tell them how over your head you've been lately or that, deep down, they were probably right about all of this being a huge leap you still weren't ready for.

And you can only imagine…

Told you so.

It long replaced the loud ringing and the whole new level of woozines you felt an hour ago on the bus, as you watched the nurse adjust the brace on your right ankle, all black and chunky.

You sighed heavily for the 5th time in under 2 minutes, because what did you do to deserve all this?

Oh right, maybe being a chronic people pleaser, staying late at work to set other people's shit right. Fixing last-minute deadlines, cleaning up mistakes that weren’t yours, saying yes when you wanted to say no.

But you couldn't help it.

"It shouldn't take more than 3-6 weeks to heal completly, your lucky it's just a moderate strain. Nothing that can't be fixed."

She looked up at you over the rim of her glasses, still perched hideously, before she slowly swiveled back to her desk.

"Can I still work in that thing?", you tried testing out the waters, bending your feet just a little, then more until you sucked in a sharp breath when the pain hit.

"Honey, what do you think this is?", she drawled follwed by a low chuckle as if she couldn't quiet believe this being your first question.

“It’s meant for the healing, you have to keep it still completely and not put any weight on it. And that includes not working."

The last straw keeping you grounded right now is that this could have been much worse.

From the moment the bus driver hit the brakes like in that one Harry Potter scene, your new plateau sneakers giving out on you and your head bracing the inevitable fall on some window. Your initial hope bubble of no one noticing quickly busted as people came to your side, but you brushed them off mumbling that you were fine through the worst cringe of unwanted attention. Until you tried to balance yourself, only to realize you couldn't, and straightening up nearly made you sick.

You shifted, bracing your palms against the mattress to find a more comfortable position, minus flaring your ankle up again. You’d been in this bed for too long, it was driving you crazy.

"But how am I supposed to do that? Other than floating maybe..."

The mocking arch of her brows made the wrinkles on her forehood stand out more, but you couldn't care less, it was the pure frustration blurting out of you at this point you weren't even kidding about the last part. The last thing you needed on your mind was your boss' face to your sick call tomorrow morning. Not with the mayor visiting your office in 2 days, waiting to hear your thoughts on improving Vancouver's climate neutrality through sustainable architecture. And what you’ve worked tirelessly on, perfecting every detail from start to finish.

And you thought if all of this is some sort of reverse karma. Only for being hardworking. Is that a thing?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice the shuffling in the room until she came back with something that, if any shred of humor was left inside you, you would've laughed at. But instead, you just slumped back against the headrest, the wave of déjà vu taking you back to when you were 8 looking between the crutches in her hand.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

"I think you will be good with these", she offered, leaning them against your bed within reach, "maybe if you try hard enough you will actually float."

Her chumy tone you still couldn't quite feel yet, had your eyes roll back in an instant before closing them, grumbling to yourself, "Just great, really, really, great", but it was a mistake once you did as you fought off the urge to drift off completly.

A piece of mind for the first time in hours. Maybe for the first time in forever even.

The last months have been...immense to say the least, throwing yourself into anything that kept you running on autopilot, saying yes when you wanted to say no, but you needed it.

The last months have been...immense to say the least, throwing yourself into anything that kept you running on autopilot, saying yes when you wanted to say no, but you needed it.

After the biggest "told you so" that was bound to happen eventually. 2 months from now or more, or perhaps between his work, your work, balancing on a life that went past deadlines and demands, between 2 people who have their own reasons to prove themselves to everything around them, you slipped out of each other’s reach.

But it’s not like there was ever an official you two.

It was just the version of the story you always liked best.

“Here you go, I was able to find one in the random stash we keep in our break room, but it should work though," a voice light and sweet snapped your attention back faster or not fast enough, you didn't know, blinking against the lights now.

For a second, you felt like you were back on the bus with the dizziness and nausea creeping in again.

But no. Just him. It was just the thought of Quinn.

Your weighted gaze shifted to the bubbly blonde next to you, then down to your forearm where she lightly nudged a charger against it, and you suddenly remembered how determined she was to get it for you when you realized your phone powered down.

You couldn’t even text Lia back in time, knowing you were already too late for the rare occassions of missing your daily Facetime calls, with her still being back home in Seattle. Not in a trillion years you expected to feel this way about her, but right now you're glad she is.

Because if she she'd see you like this, she'd already know the answers without you giving it to her, that you take on more than your chronic people pleasing heart could handle sometimes.

And he'd always know too. When to snap you out of it, when to just exist beside you with no words. He'd never have to ask.

"Oh yeah, thank you", you forced out in the most put-together tone you could pull off right now, hoping our smile was convincing enough to distract her from the way your clammy palms were rubbing against the mattress, or the rapid thumping of your heart that you’d see too on your chest if you dared to look down again.

"Just enough to call a Uber and you can take it back."

She gave you a simple half-shrug, taking your phone from your outstretched hand, "It's stuff patients leave behind soo..", and plugged it in for you. But before you could brush her answer off again, the low calling of your last name made you snap to a tall man in the doorway, and his two long strides toward you could either mean more bad or good news.

You held your breath as you listened to him in silence going over your completly normal labs and scans which only told you everyone was making a bigger deal out of this anyway. You were fine, biting the inside of your cheeks reluctantly when he added they'd be filling out a sick report too.

"-though we would like to monitor you here for a night just in case you develop more symptoms that can’t be ruled out from the hit, and given that you already experienced dizziness and nausea-"

No person or force on this earth could make you stay here for one minute longer.

You released your cheeks with a click of your tongue, cutting him off quickly, "Uhhh that's not necessary, I mean I feel way better now and you just said it too didn't you?", which finally made him look up from whatever, clearly taken aback, his suprise mirrowing your own for a different reason.

Plus, you knew your rights. They couldn't keep you hostage here, you were ready to remind him of their own policy.

"I'm glad you do, we just want to make sure that-"

But you barely registered his next words, lost beneath the familiar sound of your phone finally wrapping up in your hands, and you were as happy as a little kid seconds away from unwrapping the biggest gift under the Christmas as tree, just, it didn't ask you to press your thumb down to unlock it as it normally would but...

"Damn it."

The one time your phone decides to ask for your SIM card code, and you’re completely blank.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

Yes, you really believed now, you did everything wrong tonight and this was the real karma of it all.

Your thumbs brushed the screen, trying to remember 4 digits like your life depended on it with the only 3 attempts you had.

The day you bought it you scribbled it down, along with the backup code (of course), and put it on your fridge because your memory rivaled that of a goldfish sometimes.

Was it 5678 or 5679?, and you heart dropped as deep as the Marianna Trench when it said only 1 attempt left.

"...and with how things are right now, we wouldn't encourage you to leave on your own. Do you have someone you can call right now to pick you up? Someone safe?"

Was he still talking to you?

"Huh? What?", the phone nearly slid from your grip, your palms starting to clam up again, and he lowered his clipboard studying you with an expression you weren't sure you had the energy to fully read, but it felt too damn close to pity.

"Or anyone we could call...?"

Quinn knew now that he could only trust Jack when it comes to discussing goodreads.com reader's favorites, ideas for lake house interior, and shooting pucks.

Not with anything close to dating. Or helping him out with that.

He was doing just fine. Thank you very much, but he knew Jack. Too much for his own good sometimes.

"Why do you act like you don't want it when you actually do. You need this. Get out of your head.

Sitting in this Italian restaurant that was a little too crowded for it being a secret "gem" as Jack said suggesting it to him, and he didn't even live here, listening to his date "soul-searching" trip to Bali was far from want and need.

He checked her Instagram highlights before, clicking on her profile Jack DM'd him. A friend of a friend. If overpriced veggie bowls and infinity pool thirst traps were anything soul-searching she's deluding both of them, and so was his thinking that maybe he should give this a shot. Getting out his head like Jack said with the season already hitting him with flashbacks he wanted to forget fot the sake of his sanity, and keeping away from anything that kept him running on autopilot.

"It just put everything into perspective", she said, her voice pulling him back just enough to realize he had no idea what she was talking about.

And he knew the moment he looked up from stirring the ice in his water with his straw for the past 5 minutes, there wouldn't be damn thing he'd remember about her either. She was beautiful, that much was obvious. The kind she knew and had probably been told her whole life, she didn't have to try too hard.

He preffered not trying at all. It was his favorite.

Probably ever since you took his drink at the coffee shop one day, the place too crowded for names to be called, just cups sliding across the counter and you didn't even look down at his name scribbled on the side in Sharpie when you slipped past him on the way out, not bothered to notice him eiter. The moment he should've said something, tap your shoulder, say anything when he just kept watching you move outside, tilting your head at street signs like they weren’t second nature yet, checking your phone every few seconds like you had somewhere important to be. Grabbing the wrong coffee without a second glance wasn’t his only hunch that you weren’t from here. Then, the sip. Too strong. Wholebean. Definitely not yours.

You turned back, ready to go back inside, but he already had yours in his hands on his way out to you when they started calling out names again, and no one responded to except for him.

A moment, A pause, your cold fingers brushing against his warm ones, or when you laughed at your mistake all crinkly around your eyes, perharps for the first time in a while that day, that should have been it, but wasn't, because between all of it you just became a part of his routine.

“…And then, on the third day, we did this sunrise meditation hike just me and a few people from the retreat, barefoot, totally disconnected, away from everything."

She kept going, oblivious to the way his focus had disconnected, his mind already elsewhere, lost in the memory of the last time he wanted to get away from everything, and the cushion underneath him slid akwardly when he shifted in his seat.

I wasn't about overpriced veggie bowls or infinity pools. But his favorite place in Michigan. Always.

And he wanted to take you there.

It had been a vague idea, one that had come up in the quiet moments in betweeen road trips and late-night talks at his place that were too deep and glances that lingered too long to mean anything less than what he had already convinced himself was true about you. The same feeling hit him when you gave him that slight curve of your lips, the one that always told him you had him figured out when when he told you about the days being slow and the nights nothing but still stars at the lake house.

"Hmm, that's not true stars are moving constantly, we just don't see it."

He laughed, quiet but warm,"Can you at least pretend to fall for it?" just to get stuck in his throat.

"It never is with you."

"What?"

"Pretending."

It never was with you either.

But it never became anything more than vague. Because there was always something else. Texts left on read for too long, you and your own world to keep up with just as much as he did with travel schedules that blurred weeks into months, not leaving room for things he didn't know how to hold onto. Or someone who didn't know either.

A low buzz from behind, easy to miss if it hadn’t lingered just long enough to jolt him back before he knows. He shifted again, and even though this was only ever one-sided, a genuine "Really sorry, I will turn it off" left his lips as he gawkly reached for his jacket over the backrest.

He hadn’t meant to look, a habit more than anything. But then his thumb hesitated mid-air, double-taking the number.

Unknown. Vancouver area code. Probably nothing. Probably something.

But always a red flag, especially for someone in his industry.

"Thought you were turning it off?", she mused, tipping her wine glasss to her lips, watching him over the rim and he forced a quick exhale, "Yeah, I-", but he didn't have a real answer with the buzzing still alive in his hand.

And he should've turned it off, ignore it, and sit through the night rest of the night pretending like he hadn't already made up his mind about this whole thing.

You need this.

But Jack was wrong.

He wasn't even sure what "this" was even supposed to be. Whatever, it never felt right since the start.

His phone buzzed again with the same caller, but now he thought about it being a perfect timing.

"I gotta take this...", he mumbled, barely shooting her a glance, and he swiped right before his mind could really caught up with it.

"Hello?"

A breath, a pause, nothing good he thinks already but he used it to press his index finger to his ear to drown out the noise, shifing again.

"Uhm, yeah, hello it's Vancouver General Hospital am I speaking to Quinn H?"

Well this was new.

"Depends, who is this?", ignoring the "H" making it sound like a witness protection program name. Not that he planned on correcting them. Or rather, a nurse as she introduced herself, surprisingly professional, enough to raise his interest and, slowly, his concerns too.

"Sir, we have your sister here, she was brought in with a mild concussion and a sprained ankle some hours ago. But don't worry, she is totally fine, she just needs someone to pick her up which is why we're calling."

His brows snapped together, head jerking back to the slightest bit like his brain needed an extra second to process.

"My what? Excuse me?"

Last time he checked it was Jack and Luke. Their parents would never screw them over like that, no way the would forget an entire human being for twenty-something years. Right? Not even back when they first sat him down to tell him he’d be a big brother, and his two-year-old self, without hesitation, decided he wanted a sister. But by the time Luke came, he was bound to live with brothers. He wouldn't change that for the world now.

So when the nurse repeated the words that his sister listed him as her emergency contact Quinn could only stare blankly ahead, "Yeah, I still think you've got the wrong number..."

She is wasting her time on a call when this girl was really waiting to be picked up, and he was just about to put it in terms she’d finally grasp, until-

You.

The noise around him, muffled laughter and the hum of conversation, the restless tapping of manicured nails against the table cloth across him, faded into nothing. And if with his thoughts already going from 0 to 100, this is his breaking point.

Your name.

He cleared his throat, but his voice came out strained, throat too dry, "Come again?"

Of all the names, hitting his ears after all these months but thought more of than he'd ever admit. The name he'd seen on his screen too many times, resisting the urge to check, to ask, to do something.

Everything dropped, turned over, a slow ache pressing against his ribs, too overwhelming and far too familiar.

But his body moved before his mind could catch up, momentum taking over. Someone said his name. Maybe, he couldn't care less. Something about a drink next, about sitting back down, but he ignored it again.

Because you were still ringing in his head, louder than it had in months.

And he wasn’t about to ignore it now.

"He said he's already on his way, shouldn't take longer than 10 minutes"

It made your brows furrow in confusion, "He's in the area?", but you said it more to yourself than to her, not that she heard it either in the crowded waiting room you were sitting in now, your ankle on a cushioned chair they'd given you.

Turns out you had listed an emergency contact the last time you were here, one you didn’t even remember leaving behind. Apparently, hospital policy included holding onto records long enough to make you wait nearly an hour, because the name they had on file was your brother. And, of course, he was on a business trip in Abbotsford, 1 hour away. The only reasonable choice to put down when they’d asked back then. Then again, you barely remembered.

Except for the fact that it was your first public unveiling of a project you led. You had invited your parents, that small, hopeful part of you giving in, calling them, telling them you’d be happy if they came. You were almost surprised by their promising tone, as if, finally, they’d understand this wasn’t just about concepts and sketches but about your dream.

But they didn’t come, texting out of everything, with an excuse that felt too made up. And hours ago, when your stomach had already sunk from scanning the crowd for them every time a new group arrived, it sank further. This time with the mix of one bad shrimp and something stronger you’d used to numb the disappointment.

How could you forget when you really really wanted to.

"Is you brother like...famous or something, because your records were pretty mysterious."

You looked up to the same bubbly blonde nurse, still standing in front of you with her lips pressed together,

"I think we're close enough he'd care to tell me or I would've found out sooner or later, but no, sorry to dissapoint you or anything", you corrected, hoping that was enough while you were already done processing the absurdity of it all. You slumped against the rigid backrest, sighinh as the exhaustion crept in again, but rest was the last thing anyone was willing to grant you right now.

“Your record,” she rambled on, not getting the memo, "it was… kinda mysterious.”

One eye popped open, then another when you saw her crossing her arms now. This conversation slowly glided out of your hands, you just leaned forward, jerking your head to the side, silently urging her to make sense of whatever this was.

"Your record just said Quinn H. and nothing more. I had to call him Mr. H. the whole time, but I figured he prefers this kind of privacy and that's what you want for him too. He didn't tell me his last name though, so like I said, all mysterious."

Your fingers now hoved near the cushioned stool, reaching for your calf to lift it off with more force than you should've and the sting was instant. But it was nothing compared to the irritation climbing its way up your throat where your heart already pounded in it.

Because not your brother was about to walk through that door. The person who should've been here.

No.

It will be Quinn Hughes.

And suddenly you were mid-fall again, right there on the bus, every last bit of control slipping past your grip. Nothing you could do.

Because drunk you put him down as your emergency contact that time. The one you barely remember.

"Wait, no", a breath left you, unsteady, "Call him again and tell him it's a big fucking mistake", your hands twitched in flight mode as you darted between her and the sliding doors open-mouthed, cause you remembered her saying he was only 10 minutes away. 5 even, if you're unlucky.

The same Quinn you stopped talking too, who if you looked into his eyes again, the same on that always made you wonder, if they could get any darker, any greener, would he notice?

That you mever meant for things to be this way? That it wasn't him, not really but your own mind, the way this new life kept pulling at you, and how you wanted to reach out when things calmed down. When you had space. When you could be the version of yourself that he deserved.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Maybe he thought you didn't care. It was only fair, but it didn't loosen the knot in your chest, nor how you blinked away the sting in your eyes that you told yourself was from the stuffy air with too many people breathing in here.

Because you did. You always did.

"Hey sis."

And in that instant, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, how else could you explain the way your lungs refused to function, as if they’d forgotten how, when you snapped your head to where he stood now inches away. How long?

His navy blue shirt was barely visible under his coat, his hair grown out just enough for the ends to curl, for it to peek out from the beanie he held in his hand, looking too good even with his hair tousled still like he'd always did asking you if he looks okay, what you could see him doing in whatever thing you interruped him in before he got here,

It pressed in too heavy, you had to cut through it.

"Why are you here?"

"What happ-"

You barely felt the ache in your ankle over the blood rushing in your ears when you shifted your weight standing now, his gaze dropping to the crutches you stood up without, your brace, the subtle wince you thought you hid. And it was fucking with your heart that he wasn't just looking at you, but like he was piecing something back together.

He parted his lips, but his eyes flicked past yours first, toward the nurse behind you, when his fingers around his beanie, "You were brought in here", he hesistated, "Needed someone to pick you up."

That was the objective, something everyone would've done perhaps if they received such call, being a good or person, or the simple fact that he was your emergency contact.

You needed the subjective.

You huffed, shaking your head, "This is not what I meant. You could have said no."

"I didn't."

"You should have."

The words sounded sharper on your tongue than you wanted them to be, and you didn't know what hurt more, the way his expression barely shifted like he'd expected to be shut down again, because you were getting so good at it, or how your insides churned 360 degrees of how much you already regretted them.

"What do you want me to say? You're the one who put my name down I didn't even knew until now or let you bolt out of here with an concussion like they told me?"

Bolted. Floated. Whatever to get out of here finally.

"Well, neither was I, and I'm fine", you muttered fixing you gaze on the sterile floor instead, on anything but the way how he was fixing you, "but let's just drop it to the part where you go back to whatever you had going on before coming here I guess and me saying sorry for it."

The bittersweet taste in your mouth.

Only when the dull ache flared up in your good ankle did you realize you’d been standing without your crutches all this time. and before you even thought to reach for your crutches, he was already moving. Anticipating. The moment your balance gave out on you, he was already there, steady hands at your elbow and bicep, grounding you before gravity could do worse, and your pulse skipped how easy it was to sink into it.

His breath hitched, and so did yours, the warmth of his touch pooling through your fabric like you swallowed an ember, and his eyes, god his eyes, the darkest green, you don't even have to look up to be convinced about it again, all on you, as he murmured, barely a whisper.

"Don't be sorry, because it didn't mean anything."

Sitting in his car with the seat warmer already on like he remembered how easily cold you can get, watching as he pulled up your adress from his "saved", it fucked with your heart all over again.

You should have protested, insisting you were fine enough to make it out on your own, scoffing when the nurse told Quinn, not you, that you needed monitoring, just in case.

But exhaustion had already settled too deep in your bones, that you were almost thankful for the silence settling between you since he helped walking you out and insisted to drive you home at least.

Almost.

You would’ve been the biggest fool alive if you let this slip again, like you always did, like you always regretted.

"I am sorry though."

"And I told you not to be."

The darkness in his eyes gave way to the streetlights flickering through them as you turned to face him, "You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be sorry for, Hughes", you jested and Quinn huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head lightly. The soft glow from outside looked too good on him when you stopped at a right light, you swallowed hard, "What kind of brother would I be too?"

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Oh my god, stop. I didn’t even mean to put you down as my contact."

"Keep it, I don't mind."

"You say that like you wouldn’t have blocked my number by now if you had the chance."

Quinn smirked, tilting his head against the headrest, his eyes flickering toward you. "Would’ve done it already if I wanted to."

Then, before either of you could think too much about it, his hand reached out, his pinky brushing against yours on the center console, like testing the waters, like answering more questions without words. It was enough.

He squeezed your hand once.

You squeezed back. An answer.

[aajjks]

The Conqueror (XXV)

synopsis. He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

pairings: yandere king!jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings: yándèrè, 18+ thèmès, hè is só hôrny fôr yn, néw cháráctèrs, dàrk thèmès, sèxüàl àttràctïón, pósèssïvènèss, dílèmmà.

note. Please share your thoughts on this and I really miss tc koo asks so please send asks for him and really share your thoughts with me always I know it’s weird to repeat myself, but I just have to make sure. Hopefully, I will update this soon and until then enjoy this. 👀💞

series masterlist

•••

It’s the day of the King of China and princess’s arrival and you are not looking forward to it.

It’s been almost a week since you’ve been married to that monster and— you don’t feel bad for rejecting him because you never wanted him in the first place, something has been bothering you for the past three days— his behavior.

His behavior with you for the past few days…

You would be lying if you said that it doesn’t bother you.

You used to think that it would be nice to not have his intense attention on you, you never wanted to be the focus of his attention, but now that you have been, it feels weird to not have him talk to you or acknowledge your existence.

He is a petty man.

The palace has been bustling, everyone has been so focused on the welcome of the king of China with his daughter, it’s like nobody cares about you.

Why would they care about you?

You are just lady yn. The wife of the king that never deserved to have that title in many of the people’s eyes.

As you sit in your chambers, a servant comes into inform you that the carriage has arrived.

“My Lady, the king is expecting your presence at the hall. The carriage of the king of China has been spotted and it’s expected to arrive within a few minutes, so I have been ordered to escort you there so you can be present for the welcome.”

You look at her, and sigh.

“Okay. Thank you for informing me.” without thinking you get up and follow this woman out.

You don’t really have a choice in this matter.

In your life, you have never had a choice.

You are just a puppet that belongs to jungkook, the great emperor of Goryeo, the conqueror, the person who has also conquered you.

And now you are his prize to show off.

•••

Jungkook stands tall, waiting for the arrival of the Chinese royalty, his posture is stiff and formal, as expected.

His mind, however, isn’t entirely focused on the event at hand. It’s on you.

Always on you.

He feels the tension building up inside him. Six days of marriage and not a single moment of closeness, not even a kiss.

It eats away at him, the hunger gnawing at his insides. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to touch you, but you haven’t let him.

Not yet.

And that drives him crazy.

The sound of the door opening almost distracts him from his spiraling thoughts. The moment he sees you, it feels like the room itself shifts.

There you are.

You walk in with that same grace, you have something about you that still has the power to steal his breath away, even after all these days.

He can’t take his eyes off you as you make your way toward him, the fabric of your gown fits perfectly, with each step, the colors rich and deep.

You’re still a lady, not a queen—yet… but Jungkook doesn’t need titles to see that you’re everything he ever wanted.

His eyes trace your every movement, a hunger starts building within him, like a flame that keeps growing, consuming everything else.

The way your hair sways with each step, the way your eyes are avoiding his nervously as you walk closer to him— it all drives him mad with desire.

God, you look so perfect.

He can’t help it. His thoughts are raw and urgent as he watches you.

His breath hitches, and he feels the ache in his chest, a deep longing that he can’t ignore.

The way you look at him, even from across the room, makes his pulse race.

There’s that faint hesitation in your gaze, that uncertainty, as if you’re still unsure of him, unsure of this whole thing, this marriage.

But to Jungkook, that only makes the attraction worse.

You’re so damn beautiful, even when you don’t try.

He notices how others in the room glance at you… admire you— but it’s different for him.

He doesn’t see just your beauty.

he feels the need to possess it, to possess you. His heart pounds harder, and he can’t seem to pull his gaze away.

He knows he has to remain composed. The king of China, and the princess are coming, and he’s supposed to be welcoming her. But right now, he only wants you.

You’re his wife.. he reminds himself, even if the title doesn’t feel real yet, not with the coronation still pending.

But you’re his, and that possessiveness gets worse within him, that feeling of ownership over you that makes him want to claim you completely.

The fire in his chest flares as you finally reach him, and he can’t stop himself from stepping forward, closing the distance between you.

The moment your hand brushes his, his pulse quickens.

He swallows hard, trying to steady himself. His voice comes out a little more strained than usual when he speaks.

“You look incredible,” he says, his eyes still locked on you. His mind races with thoughts, but he doesn’t want to admit the dark, almost primal urge coursing through him.

He needs you, he wants you, and every day it only intensifies.

He remembers the wedding night— the way you rejected him, the way you pushed him away.. and it eats at him.

You’ve been so distant, so closed off, and it’s driving him crazy. He wants you, but you’re not letting him have you, and that makes the desire even more desperate.

You’re mine, and yet you’re slipping away.

It’s the only thought that keeps repeating in his mind. He’s fighting the urge to take you right there, to pull you into his arms and claim you the way he’s been dying to since the day he first saw you.

But it’s not just about the lust. Not entirely.

There’s something deeper in him, something more profound than just physical desire.

The way he looks at you—it’s possessive, yes, but it’s also full of admiration. Full of longing.

The way you carry yourself, the way you hold yourself so regal, even as a lady, makes his chest tighten.

Jungkook takes a breath, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. But that hunger never quite leaves his eyes.

I’m going to have you, soon.

He can feel the weight of his desire… his obsession, with you building.

He needs you. And that need, that hunger, makes every part of him ache in ways he doesn’t know how to express.

“I certainly hope that you will behave yn. Do not even try to act cold with me in front of the king. I am not in the mood to be humiliated. Okay, baby?”

He looks at you and he feels entitled to your attention. You belong to him whether you like it or not.

You just have to make it so hard for him to hate you.

But before you can reply, there is an interruption.

Jungkook smirks.

The large doors of the grand hall open with a creak, drawing the attention of every person in the room.

The atmosphere shifts instantly, becoming more charged, more expectant.

The air is thick with anticipation as the king of China, regal and imposing in his own right, steps through first. His eyes are sharp, his presence commanding, but there is something about him that makes jungkook feel so satisfied.

He’s an old man.

And then, there is the princess.

She steps in next, Her long black hair, her high cheekbones and her gaze is sharp, taking everything in as she enters.

But it’s him, Jungkook… who catches her focus.

The moment her eyes land on him, her breath catches in her throat. The prince stands just a few feet away, but he might as well be the center of the entire universe.

His posture is perfect, shoulders broad, the sharp lines of his jawline and the defined muscles in his arms and chest accentuated by the royal attire that clings to him in all the right ways.

Her gaze lingers on him as she takes a step forward, utterly captivated. She can feel her heart race, a heat stirring inside her.

She isn’t quite sure what it is, but the way he stands there, the confidence radiating off of him, makes her feel a strange mix of awe and… attraction. She tries to shake the feeling, but it’s there, undeniable.

The king of Goryeo, is gorgeous and he is nothing like how she was expecting him to be.

She has obviously heard about him and she has heard how bloodthirsty he is and quite merciless on the fields of battle.

But she wasn’t expecting to see a man so attractive, standing in front of her eyes, looking so regal.

She had thought that he must be at least in his 50s. But this couple in front of her. He doesn’t look to be that much older than her.

She knows that she’s here to congratulate him on his marriage to you.

It’s obvious because you’re standing by his side.

Even though you are standing by his side, she doesn’t care.

His pure raw masculinity has her mesmerized to even notice you.

Her thoughts blur, and she doesn’t know whether to be mesmerized by his raw masculinity or embarrassed by how obvious her attraction is becoming.

The way his muscles flex beneath his royal garb, the way his hair falls just perfectly over his forehead… it’s like something out of a dream.

She quickly looks away, hoping no one notices the sudden heat creeping into her cheeks, but the effect he has on her is impossible to ignore.

The king, noticing his daughter’s lingering gaze, smirks to himself. He might be pleased by her admiration,there’s a slight sense of amusement in his eyes.

This is perfect.

Meanwhile, Jungkook, whose eyes flicker across the room, finally meets the princess’s gaze.

He notes the way she is practically undressing him with her eyes, the way her breath hitches. He feels the pull of her stare, but he doesn’t return it.

His focus remains on the king.. on the official duties at hand.

The princess might be beautiful, but he doesn’t care. He’s seen this sort of admiration before, and it bores him.

She’s just a little girl.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as she shifts slightly, adjusting herself. It’s clear she’s trying to compose herself, but her flushed face betrays her.

Jungkook smirks.

He knows that he’s attractive, but she doesn’t have to make it that obvious.

He wishes the way she’s looking at him? You would look at him like that..

But he doesn’t care about her. His mind, his attention, is focused entirely on you.

When the princess finally speaks, her voice is clear and polite, but there’s an edge of uncertainty in it. “Your Highness,” she greets, bowing her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

Jungkook simply nods, acknowledging her words, but his gaze never leaves you as you step forward.

He turns to the princess and the king with a soft, almost arrogant smile on his lips. “This is my wife,” he announces proudly, and her eyes are finally settle on you.

She’s Judging you.

He gestures to you, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, feeling that brief contact like a spark. “My Lady,” he says to you, his voice warm yet firm, his eyes holding that possessive gleam that only you understand.

His pride swells, and though the princess might be in front of him, he’s not paying her a second thought.

You are his pride.

“This is my wife, the Lady Yn of Goryeo,” Jungkook says again, making sure his words are heard clearly.

His chest swells as he watches the princess’s expression change ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her face as she realizes who you are.

Jungkook feels a rush of satisfaction, something almost primal, knowing that the princess now sees the bond between you both. She can admire him all she wants, but you are the one he claims.

The princess’s attention is still divided. partly on Jungkook, partly on you.

She’s intrigued, perhaps even fascinated by the lady standing next to him, by the quiet authority that you carry with you.

But Jungkook, in his quiet pride, doesn’t care about the princess’s shifting gaze.

His eyes are only for you. He watches you carefully, knowing exactly how the princess is reacting to him, but he’s too focused on you to care.

In that moment, it’s clear: he is proud of you. Proud of the wife he has. And the princess doesn’t even matter.

“Come inside. I am really honored to have you and your daughter as my guest. And I will really like it if you guys will honor us even more by staying here for a few days.”

He turns his attention back to the king as he invites him to stay in Goryeo for a few days.

Jungkook has some ulterior motives and in order to make sure that he gets what he wants, he will need to play sweet.

“We would be really honored, as we are here to congratulate you on your marriage and I sincerely apologize that my wife couldn’t accompany me on this journey since she’s really sick. But I have brought my daughter with me. Please meet Meilin..”

Jungkook leads Princess Meilin and her father, the King of China, through the grand hallways of the Goryeo palace.

The air thickens with each step, and the atmosphere is heavy with expectation, but Jungkook remains calm and collected.

His eyes flicker briefly between Meilin, who is still caught in her silent admiration of him, and the king, whose regal presence matches his long years of rule.

But too bad he’s old now and Jungkook isn’t really in the mood to go to war since he’s just gotten married to you.

As they walk, Jungkook feels a sense of satisfaction settle over him. The king may have come to Goryeo expecting nothing more than a courteous meeting, but Jungkook has bigger plans.

His thoughts are consumed by his ultimate goal—conquering China.

He isn’t about to rush things, but this visit is the perfect opportunity to move forward with his agenda.

They arrive in the grand dining hall, the flickering light of the candles casting a warm glow over the space.

Jungkook turns to the king and his daughter with a welcoming smile.

“It would be my honor to have you both stay here for a few days, in the Goryeo palace,” Jungkook repeats himself, his words are measured.

“This is the least I can offer after such a long journey.”

The king, caught off guard at first, meets Jungkook’s gaze and nods slowly, his expression softening. “We would be honored to stay, Your Highness,” he responds, clearly impressed by the Goryeo king’s hospitality.

They don’t even know how to properly address him and it’s pissing him off.

Jungkook shifts his attention to Meilin.

She can’t hide her attraction and it’s almost making him uncomfortable.

She’s still watching him, her gaze full of intrigue, but she quickly averts her eyes, maybe realizing how obvious her admiration has become.

Jungkook notices but doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I hope your stay will be pleasant,” Jungkook says, addressing her now, his voice low and inviting. “And I sincerely hope that your wife, the queen will be healthy soon..”

“We have prepared rooms for both of you. I trust Goryeo will offer a much-needed rest after your travels.”

Meilin nods, offering a polite smile, but her thoughts are clearly elsewhere.

She can’t help but notice how close she is to Jungkook now.

His presence is overwhelming, and she feels the effect it has on her intensifying by the moment.

As the king and his daughter are escorted to their rooms, Jungkook feels a rush of satisfaction.

This is only the beginning. He’s patient, playing the long game.

China is the prize.

But as they move through the palace, his gaze drifts to you—Yn of Goryeo. You walk beside him, and Jungkook feels a sense of pride surge within him.

His mind may be focused on his grand plan, but you are always in his thoughts, always by his side.

Though the princess and her father are staying for only a few days, Jungkook’s attention is elsewhere.

He isn’t concerned with them, not really. His mind is set on his greater goal, and China is only a matter of time.

The palace is his domain. And this is only the start of the game.

“Good girl. I am so proud of you for behaving. As I expect you will be in my chambers tonight since I don’t want the king to think that you and I stay in separate chambers.”

He looks at you in a way that makes sure that his message is sent across.

This is not up for debate. You will have to stay in his chambers as long as the princess and the king of China stay here.

And jungkook intends to take advantage of that fact fully.

Starting from tonight.

[hy6erion]

Hii! I know I just send in an another request but this idea also popped into my mind and I feel like you could write it quite well so I didn't want to send it to someone else.

Viktor×reader, where readers way of expressing their love and care is by taking care of people and trying to help as much as possible to make life easier for everyone they care about (opening doors, making food, helping a friend study, all the small and big things). I think viktor would struggle to accept that reader cares for him and isn't just babying him. Him slowly realising that he can ask for help not only when it's absolutely necessary but also just when he wants help because it would be easier. But then also getting stuck with the feeling of the reader being so caring for everyone. Love confession or something? Idk

Sorry for sending two requests in a row, take your time please.

~🍒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩- 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (╥╯^╰╥)

Viktor was used to doing things alone. It wasn’t a matter of pride—at least, not entirely. It was habit. Necessity. He had learned early on that asking for help often led to disappointment, so he learned to manage on his own. He had learned to be independent, to push forward no matter the difficulty, to adjust his grip on his cane and keep moving even when his leg ached and the weight of exhaustion pressed against his skull.

That was why he struggled with you. Because you—without hesitation, without expectation—made his life easier.

It started small, things he could brush off. You holding open doors when you walked ahead of him, waiting just long enough so he wouldn’t have to catch the handle himself. You adjusting his chair in the lab before he sat down, subtle, like you hadn’t even thought about it. You bringing him tea when you got your own, setting it down beside him without a word.

But it wasn’t just him.

You did it for everyone. Helping Jayce reorganize his disaster of a desk when you noticed him getting frustrated. Bringing Claggor coffee when he was pulling an all-nighter. Tutoring some first-years when you saw them struggling with equations you could solve in seconds.

You were thoughtful in a way that seemed effortless, as if your care for others was woven into your very being.

And it unsettled him. Because the more he noticed it, the harder it became to ignore.

He had spent years learning to work through pain, through difficulty, through exhaustion. He only ever asked for help when there was no other option. And yet, with you, help was simply given—before he could even think to ask.

And worse than that, you didn’t just do it because of his leg, or because you pitied him. You did it because you cared.

That realization was the most difficult thing of all.

The lab was quiet save for the occasional scratch of pen on paper and the rhythmic tap of Viktor’s cane against the floor as he moved back and forth between his desk and the chalkboard. He was immersed in his work, half-formed calculations filling the margins of his notebook.

Until—

“Viktor.” Your voice, warm and familiar, pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up just as you placed a plate of food beside him.

He frowned. “I didn’t ask for—”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But you haven’t eaten all day, and I was making something for myself anyway. Figured you’d appreciate not starving.”

Viktor’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you repeated easily. “But I wanted to.”

That should have been the end of it. You turned to leave, already heading back to your own work, but Viktor’s grip tightened around his pen.

“…You do this for everyone.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at the plate, at the general atmosphere of you. “You help everyone. You—” He exhaled sharply, frustration edging his voice. “You don’t have to keep looking after me.”

You blinked, head tilting slightly. “I don’t have to. I want to.”

Viktor shook his head. “You should not waste your time worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” you said, more firmly this time. You took a step closer, crossing your arms. “But just because you can do something alone doesn’t mean you have to.”

Viktor opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond to that. He had spent so long believing he was only allowed help when it was absolutely necessary. When he physically could not continue without it.

But you—you were offering it simply because you cared.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

It took time.

At first, he tried to resist. If he needed something from a high shelf, he would stretch for it. If his leg ached after hours of standing, he would grit his teeth and bear it. If his hands trembled from exhaustion, he would steady them himself.

But you were there.

Not pushing, not forcing—just there. And it became harder to ignore the fact that things were simply easier when he let you help.

The first time he asked for something—really asked, not because he had no other choice but because he wanted to—it was almost painful.

“Could you… hand me that book?”

You didn’t comment on the hesitation in his voice, didn’t make a big deal of it. You just passed him the book and went back to your work, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

And maybe, for you, it was.

So he tried.

He let you carry an extra cup of tea back to the table when he saw you holding two. He let you adjust the strap of his bag when it had slipped. He let you—just once—walk beside him at his pace without feeling the need to keep up.

And then one day, without thinking, he said, “Could you help me with this equation?”

And you did. No hesitation. No expectation. Just a simple, of course.

And he realized—he liked it.

He liked knowing that there was someone who cared enough to notice when he needed something. He liked the ease of it, the weight lifting from his shoulders.

But then— Then he caught himself watching you help others. Not just him. Everyone.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was simply who you were.

But the next time you reached out to help Jayce with something, something hot and tight twisted in his chest.

“Do you—” He hesitated, words feeling foreign in his mouth. “Do you care for everyone the way you care for me?”

You looked at him then, truly looked, as if you were searching for something beneath his carefully neutral expression.

“No.” Your voice was quiet, but certain.

His breath caught.

You took a step closer. “I care about a lot of people. But you—” A small, almost nervous smile played at your lips. “You are different.”

Viktor swallowed. He had spent so long avoiding the truth that it almost knocked the air from his lungs.

You cared for him. Not because you pitied him. Not because you saw him as weak.

But because you wanted to.

Because you loved him.

And suddenly, he was laughing—soft, breathless, incredulous.

Because maybe—just maybe—he loved you too.

[scribblesandink]

"Would you have gotten back with your ex if you hadn't met him? "

"Probably. We had just broken up.... My dad set me up on a blind date and I only went because I wanted to distract myself. I just thought I'd get a free dinner.... Maybe a few drinks..... Almost 10 years, 2 kids, and a cat later, here we are"

Her therapist smiled

"Do you miss your ex? "

".... No. I mean... I miss him as a person. He wasn't a bad guy, he just needed help that he refused to get. But I don't miss dating him"

"Audrey, you realize you're also refusing help that is constantly being offered"

"I... That's different"

"How so? "

"I... I'm not an alcoholic. I don't scream at people when I'm upset at them"

"No, you just internalize everything and take it out on yourself and keep the people who try to help you at arm's length"

Audrey went silent

Do you think covid existed in the Season? Do you think that for 2020-2021 Zeus couldn't host two Seasons. He had to wait until 2022 when restrictions finally lifted?

I'm gonna assume that covid didn't exist for my own sanity

[plaidos]

hi, it's the tgirl who showed up during your twitch stream for support after having her world shattered by the realization she's a woman. i've so far been very privileged in my life but my parents are dropping me entirely after this semester of college and i've been terrified by the ramping up of transphobic legislation & general rise of fascism in the United States. thank you for talking about how things are in the UK, it's really been helpful in keeping myself grounded.

i hope things get better for all of us everywhere soon, and I hope I've not been too much of a bother to you either

i’m glad that i was helpful, but i think something needs to be said — you yourself said that you had lived a privileged life until now so I’m going to assume you are also white so i can see why you think i that the US has been getting considerably worse lately but like…. it hasn’t really changed that much, people are just able to talk about it on social media now. like, people my parents’ age/generation lived during racially segregated bathrooms; this stuff isn’t new at all, it’s just new to you because you’ve been thrown in the deep end of learning you’re a minority.

speaking of segregated bathrooms, it is absolutely scary that the US is implementing anti-trans bathroom bills — but these bills are only being presented as a resistance to trans rights progressing. twenty years ago in most places there didn’t need to be bathroom bills because nobody was gonna stick up for the tranny when we got kicked out of a bathroom. so in some ways this legislation only exists because people have conceded we exist and can’t just be ignored and easily put out of mind.

things seem rough right now but they’ve always been rough. there has never been in a time in recent history where being trans has been easy. and i promise, as dire as it seems out there, there has never been a better time to communicate, co-operate & collaborate with other trans women worldwide.

it’s going to be okay. like i said, you jumped in the deep-end. coming out as trans is like jumping in to a pool to get over the cold. you’ll acclimatise, i promise. and it’s actually better in here. even if it’s a little cold. you’ve always wanted to go swimming, after all, right? 😊

[mochindayo]

I drew something to go along with it, because I saw a drawing pose on pinterest and-- well-- here we are

---- A Human Function to Study ----

The alchemist nodded, his eyes keenly observing how Kaeya’s nostrils quivered, the edges flared and twitched in response to each stroke of the feather. 

“Anything else you could add?”

Kaeya sniffled sharply, his voice was unsteady as his body was preparing to sneeze. “Like…I hHh–I r-really nehHh…hhh….need to snHhehH–! S-sneeze–!”

Albedo hummed, still tickling Kaeya’s nose, pushing Kaeya to the breaking point. “Interesting–”

“ hHh’ihH–Ih’tTSCHhh!! eHEH’tCHH’uhh!! hHh’EH’TSHHhh!!” 

A rapid triple burst out of Kaeya, catching Albedo’s hand in the crossfire. Not that either of them actually minded. Kaeya’s whole body shook with each desperate sneeze. Four, five, six, was he done yet? Kaeya felt relieved when the sneezes had finally come out. It was torture attempting to talk about it while being tickled like that. 

----

[elysianholly]

A Spuffy Fan's Perspective on the Reboot

So, as most Buffy fandom knows (unless they’ve been living under a rock in a crater on the Hellmouth), it was announced yesterday that SMG is involved in a Buffy reboot sequel series, one in which she will be a recurring but not central character.

As a lifelong Buffy fan, I’m expected to be overjoyed at this news, and I’m, well, not. Nor are a good number of people deeply entrenched in fandom. I’m super happy for the people who are excited. As a Spuffy fan, though, it’s hard to be jazzed for a number of reasons, among these being that SMG is most definitely a Bangel shipper, and despite being overwhelmingly more popular than Bangel in current times, Spuffy is often overlooked in a lot of key areas of the “official” Buffy promotions, the comics being a notable and welcome exception.

One thing I’ve noticed is a lot of people in Spuffy fandom are more than just “not normal” about Spuffy. I’ve struggled for 20+ years to both identify and articulate why the ship resonates with me so much to the point that news like this can make my anxiety spiral. I understand it’s not an ideal reaction media, but I have lived inside a neurodivergent brain my entire life and that ain’t about to change. And I’m not the only one—I’ve met and interacted with many, many people who feel as intensely as I do and also struggle to articulate why news like this distresses them.

So for everyone who is like me, slightly more than just “not normal” about Spuffy (or any aspect of Buffy!) and distressed about the news, here are some things I keep reminding myself.

Buffy is an Established Multi-Universe Property

We know that there are multiple universes in Buffy; it’s explored in The Wish and then confirmed by Anya later in the series. Not just multiple dimensions, but divergent/adjacent worlds to the one we saw in the show. This has been later explored in the comics, such as The Lost Summer, the Boom reboot, and The Last Vampire Slayer, never mind the plethora of authorized novels and the recent audio play. These were all officially sanctioned, licensed productions that exist outside the official canon.

All of these stories matter, regardless of whether or not they’re considered “official.” For my Spuffy people, some are Spuffy friendly and some are not. We acknowledge what we want to acknowledge and leave the rest behind. Me? If I find the sequel reboot upsetting, I’ll mentally shove it into one of those other worlds, the same as I’ve done with the comics for years (yes, even if they got Spuffy friendly).

One of the points that was brought up yesterday when I suggested just giving the sequel reboot the comics treatment was it’s harder to ignore if SMG is involved. And I get that; I felt the same way about the Slayers audioplay, because significant OG cast members were involved so it felt more official. But upon reflection, I do still think it’s the same as the comics, which were spearheaded and overseen by JW and still considered (until this sequel reboot happens) the official post-series canon. If the involvement of original artists is what makes or breaks something’s authority, then the medium shouldn’t really matter.

And on that note…

Star Wars Legends, Halloween, Terminator, & Other Reboots

For years—decades—following Return of the Jedi, the official Star Wars canon was continued in novels, the same as Buffy was. There was a rich tapestry of intergalactic politics, Leia and Han’s Force family, Luke and Mara Jade, and characters like Grand Admiral Thrawn that proved so popular he’s been recanonized.

These books existed and still exist. The new movies, the reset of canon, all things involving Rey Palpatine Skywalker and Kylo Ben Ren exist alongside established, official property. I know plenty of people who were upset that their investment in the extended Star Wars family was essentially nixed with the sequel series 10 years ago, and others who chose not to acknowledge the sequel series but maintain their post-Jedi canon.

In an era of reboots and sequel series, canon can become a bit diluted. You can’t just erase everything that came before you decided to hit the “start over” button. The recent Halloween trilogy flat-out ignored multiple movies to tell the story it wanted to tell. Terminator has done the same thing, multiple times, with the Sarah Connor Chronicles being officially licensed and more or less officially scrapped, and the last Terminator movie retconning like, what, four or five that came out after Judgment Day. That is to say, established canon doesn’t really matter in this era, because the people making these decisions are doing what fan artists have done for decades; keeping what they want, tossing all else aside, and focusing on the story they want to tell.

If what came before and what has been long established doesn’t matter (and I actually do love this; it opens up worlds and essentially gives us licensed what-if fics), then canon itself is kind of nebulous. It doesn’t matter what is or isn’t established, because established canon is a moving target, subject to personal interpretation. Don’t like the Halloween reboot? Ignore it. There are other movies out there. Don’t like the clusterfuck Disney has made of Star Wars? There is a fully developed alternative. Don’t like any of the options? Come up with your own. Comics do it all the time with superhero stories, and Buffy is nothing if not a superhero.

It’s All Fiction

This is what drives my husband crazy when I try to explain my beyond not normal feelings about Spuffy. It’s all fiction. We’re not talking about historical events here. All fiction lives in exactly one place, ultimately, and that’s between your ears. If you don’t like the way a fictional story went, you can do what fanartists have been doing for years and create your own fix-it. Or find a ready-made fix-it; I promise it exists. And the more I think about it, the less stock I put into “official” stories that are told primarily to make money. The people who are here telling these stories because they love the characters and know the characters on levels that frankly outperform most licensed stuff.

In Summary

So I’ve rambled a lot, but here are the key points to take away:

Buffy is canonically a multi-universe property so the world we’re shown by official licensed sources see isn’t the only one that exists. I didn’t say this in the section, but in this way, all fanfic is canon, because each exists in a different universe

If canon is not sacred in the world of reboots, then what they try to sell us as canon is debatable, negligible, and ultimately fine to just not acknowledge

Official canon doesn’t really matter all that much when you can pick your own, which you can and should

I hope this helps my fellow Spuffys and anyone else who is struggling with the news. My siblings in beyond just not normal. Your feelings, even if you have trouble explaining or understanding them, are valid. You’re not silly. It’s never silly to be upset about news that impacts something important to you. And there’s still so much we don’t know, so speculation abounds, but whatever comes of this, I hope you find some comfort in the freedom of being able to do exactly what the for-profit storytellers do all the time and just fucking ignore what doesn’t suit them.

In the meantime, Elysian Fields Archive will remain a Spuffy exclusive safe space, and I imagine will be home to a shitload of fix-its if the pilot gets picked up, so you’re free to join us there.

Until then, be good to yourself, and to somebody else.

[camilladraymarch]

Homeschooling is an incredible tool that can easily be abused.

As a child, I have been homeschooled ever since kindergarten, except for a brief period in third grade when my father was deployed and my mom couldn't handle three rowdy kids and sent me to an actual school.

I learned nothing of note in that year, except that my specific interests were weird and I would be ostracized for them. Far from enjoying socialization, I learned to keep to myself and even more determinedly read and generally sink deeper into the hobbies I was made fun of for. It likely didn't help that I was more emotionally stable than the girls my age and didn't want to deal with the "you're my friend, I hate you, maybe you're okay, I'M SO SORRY" drama, while the boys were still at a stage where girls were gross and didn't want to play with me at recess.

My teachers were also not prepared to deal with a neuroatypical child who just wanted to wander around the classroom and needed learning breaks in order to take new information in and understand it. Being forced to sit at a desk for hours every day was torture and I was unable to stim because there was no space for me to move and I was "disruptive" when I wanted to.

I couldn't snack when I wanted. I couldn't move when I wanted, and I couldn't take breaks. I was extremely unhappy.

I was fully ready to return to homeschooling by the end of the year.

We were well socialized. My brothers have deep bonds with their friend groups while my specific combination of neuroses means I preferred to be alone with the books that I began writing as early as 10. We went to co-op classes for subjects our mother thought we would benefit from, were enrolled in sports at the local YMCA, and were USAA swimmers.

At 16, I trained to be a lifeguard, which was a role I would follow until I graduated college and transitioned to my career. I was a boon to my employers and organized many events among the younger lifeguards.

In high school, I started taking dual credits at a local community college and I never struggled academically or socially, graduating from community college with a 3.5 GPA on my college courses and a 4.0 GPA on my co-op and parentally-driven courses.

In addition, my parents have passed various life skills to me - such as creating a household budget, doing taxes, and cleaning and cooking for myself. These are skills I see a large percentage of adults online have not mastered or even seem to be aware are necessary.

I make friends easily, I am deeply creative, and there is nothing wrong with my life. If I had to choose, I would not be publicly schooled, and if I'm lucky enough to have children, I will consider myself a failure as a parent if I don't give them the same choices and freedoms I had as a child.

With that said, not everyone and not every parent should be a homeschooler. But we do not deserve to be dismissed as uneducated or socially inept.

thoughts on homeschoolers?

DURRRRRRRR. DOOUIIIIIIII

[nortism]

I wanted to talk about @pilferingapples ‘s autistic Fantine headcanon that has been brought up in the Les Mis Letters server because it has rewired my brain and the more I think about it the more I can see my own experiences as an autistic woman reflected in Fantine’s story.

Fantine is introduced as being an outsider amongst the other grisettes. I think Hugo’s intention here was to paint her as innocent and virtuous in comparison to them but the way it reads to me is that she is someone who just can’t quite connect with her peers. She is described as being dreamy and “always having a queer look about her” in the words of Favourite.

The way Fantine is treated by the other girls rings very true to me as an autistic woman in my experience with friendship. She does consider the other grisettes her friends yet they speak cruelly about her behind her back (Favourite saying she puts on airs) and to her face (Dahlia mocking her for crying over a dead horse). Yet she offers no resistance, in fact she barely seems to acknowledge these things as offensive, because that’s just what being friends is.

The friendship between the four grisettes is shown to be truly shallow when after Tholomyes’ “prank”, they all go their separate ways, with Hugo saying it was like they’d never been friends in the first place. Realistically, one of the few examples of female friendship in the brick being portrayed as shallow and catty is most likely down to some lingering misogyny on Hugo’s part but it is something I find relatable as someone who has allowed myself to be treated poorly by others because I thought that’s how friendship was supposed to be. I’m sure a lot of other autistic people can relate to this as well.

Additionally, I think it’s interesting how the other grisettes criticisms of Fantine come down to her not acting in the expected way and fitting in with group. Favourite accuses her of putting on airs because she won’t swing like the other girls (therefore let the men look up her skirt). Dahlia laughs at her for getting emotional over the dead horse because her emotions are tainting the happy outing they’re all having. Fantine being empathetic towards animals isn’t an inherently autistic trait by itself but her inability to suppress her emotions or just go along with what everyone else is doing is something I think a lot of neurodivergent people can relate to.

Her relationship with Tholomyes is probably the biggest example of Fantine not understanding unspoken social rules. I’m no history expert and people have definitely written more in depth posts on the relationships between upper class men and working class women in France in this period but from what I’ve gathered it was understood that these relationships were purely transactional. The men got sex and attention and the women got gifts and nice days out to places they couldn’t afford by themselves. There’s more nuance than that I’m sure but that’s the gist.

We know the other three grisettes are aware of this aspect of the relationship. They are eager to receive a “surprise”, an expensive gift they could later sell on. Favourite flatters her lover to his face and says all the things he expects of her but confesses to the other girls that she doesn’t like him because he isn’t playing his role of spending money on her.

Fantine is seemingly oblivious to all of this. Maybe it’s her ostracisation from the other girls that is keeping her ignorant or maybe she knows how it is for them but genuinely believes she and Tholomyes are different. Either way it’s clear to me that her and Tholomyes have very different ideas about their relationship and that subtext has not been picked up by Fantine. For the record, this is completely on Tholomyes, even if he’s supposed to be playing the expected role, leaving his mistress without any financial aid for their child together is bad even by the standards of the time. However Fantine is definitely naïve.

Also if you read Fantine as autistic, her reasons for being in love with Tholomyes make a lot more sense. From Hugo’s description, it doesn’t seem like Tholomyes has many redeeming features: he’s balding and missing teeth, he’s a student in his thirties and he is in poor health. Yet he pays attention to Fantine, he flatters her and spends money to keep her in a nice apartment.

If we assume that Fantine is autistic and has spent her life being an outsider, this onslaught of affection would lead her to let her guard down and believe that this is what love should look like. Even without the autism, Fantine was an orphan, she didn’t have any examples of what a marriage was supposed to look like growing up so how could she possibly resist a man who seems to be doing and saying all the right things?

I think my conclusion is it doesn’t really matter if you want to read Fantine as being autistic or not. I think all the factors I’ve outlined in this post can be explained by her upbringing and her still being very young during her relationship with Tholomyes rather than having to be neurodivergence. However, I think looking at Fantine through an autistic lense has given me a new appreciation for the character and being an outsider in society, a big theme in Les Mis, is generally a relatable sentiment for neurodivergent people and I think it’s interesting to explore that in the context of Fantine.

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[itsrlymine]

hey baby!!! hope youre having a lovely day. I absolutely adore ur account, even though ive been into spirituality for a long time, i finally understood manifestation in my own way in december 2024 when i found ur account while browsing tumblr 😭😭😭😭

ur posts have been such a massive help, there is no way i could describe it oml, i want u to know that you were someone who helped me so much with everything. recently, ive encountered resistances, and obviously, theyre gone now, and in a way, i (usually) came across a particular post as a reminder to myself that manifestation is as simple as drinking water. since i understood manifestation in my way thanks to you, ive realised that the playlist (which i left in mid-2023) with the audios that supposedly didnt work, only didnt work because i doubted myself so much and was being SO negative. clearly, im using a different one now, and ive also gone through details of my life this 2025 (in a doc) because i absolutely adore writing, however, everything has been happening so fast and its still hard to accept that everything is so real, but it really is!!! things as unreal as having an identical feature of someone in my face, an aura, body changes, environment, moving, making 80% of my classmates leave and new ones coming (lol), parties, rich suitors and flings, among many other things ive manifested. cause im "changing" my mindset, i found that i like saturation, and for fun, i started doing it to get ("") curls in my hair from birth, i wanted it to take a week bc i dont like when everything happens instantly for some reason: now guess whos got super curly hair now. i also changed its natural colour, now the blonde stands out loads. ngl, im still some insecure abt specific things, but then i remember some of ur quotes and i immediately change my perception, the "nothing is hard, nothing is difficult, its just done" made a HARDDD click on my mind, being so frrr.

anyway, youve been a source of trust and deep learning for me, though it sounds weird, i just want to thank u so damn fucking much, my love!!! i love your posts forever, thank u<3 sending love

🇧🇷

omgg hey babe!!! i'm so happy that my page has been able to be of some help to you my love. exactly!!!!! nothing is hard, nothing is difficult, it's just done!! seriously there's nothing impossible or hard. there's so many things we can "bring" into our experience ans we need to take advantage of that. keep updating us my love, i'm so happy for youuuu.

[rookinthecrownest]

🖊️ + the oc closest to your heart via dragon age (the one you always go back to)

Oh! This was a bit of a tough one anon, but I have to say, Madeleina takes it <3 Let me explain why under the cut, and under this little doodle of Mads and Lucanis I whipped up in like 15 min (excuse the ... everything)

Ok so why is Madeleina so special to me - well, I consider all my DA OC's special to me bc this game has been a huge part of my life - literally for over a decade now - but I digress, she's special to me for a few reasons.

Not gonna lie chat, this year has been one of the hardest year's of my life. The release of DATV, which I'd been waiting for since Inquisition finished up with tresspasser (like many of you), was something I was really looking forward to. And I NEEDED. In many ways, this game saved me.

She was the first Rook. The first one I took with me on this crazy journey. And as I played the game and romanced Lucanis for the first time - I dunno, I can't explain how much of a chokehold Madeleina and Rookanis had on me.

I initially made this blog just to keep up to date with DATV release news, but they made me want to post my art and my writing. And I'd never really tried to write fanfic before, but I started writing the Bedtime Stories for a Demon fic, where Madeleina and Lucanis fall in love over stories from all over Thedas (fairy tales that I adapted for the DA setting). And I had so much fun with it! As I wrote it I fell more and more in love with the character and the pairing.

I can only speak for myself but I think a lot of ppl would agree that Rookanis is a great ship because of like...how soft and tender and loving it is, and how it's the little things they do for each other that's the focus. The understanding, the comfort. Not that we haven't had that in other DA romances but Lucanis' romance hits different? It's just like, so sweet, I want to cry. They're SOOO important to me it's almost silly.

They fall in love over fairy tales but their love story is the greatest fairy tale that will ever be told.

The Charming Rogue and the Hapless Hero!

To focus more on Madeleina herself for a bit, she's also important to me because she's kind of an amalgamation of a few different disney/fairy tale princesses. She has Cinderella's optimism, Rapunzel's quick wits and humour (and long hair!!), Ariel's curiosity and thirst for knowledge. With my other DA OC's, I've made them more... gritty. More suited to a dark fantasy setting. So Madeleina is important to me because she's so relentlessly positive and loving and kind and genuine, like the princesses I grew up watching. They were a source of comfort for me when I was young and going through tough times, like Mads has been a source of comfort for me as a grown up.

I've always been a lover of stories, and I think hers and Lucanis' is my favourite story in all of fiction.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling (even though the point of these asks was to gush/ramble haha).

Thank you for the ask anon!

[secretlifeoflyss]

I took Tilly’s Steps on Broadway Class last night and here are my thoughts!!!!

Tilly makes you feel so comfortable in the room!! She went around giving high fives, learning people’s names, just overall having the most infectious energy

a lot of dance teachers will treat class as if it’s an audition, often leading to raised tension and competition among the class. but Tilly wasn’t like that at all. she made everyone feel so supported and safe, the room became such a welcoming community it was so fun to take part in

she did play wicked, and we ran around because she wanted us to “feel like kids again” and we did. it was so fun

i love the way we warmed up. it was a little bit of stretching, some cardio, and boot-scootin boogie

a big thing to her was falling in love with dancing and connecting with our bodies and WOW did i accomplish that during class. After class i had so much energy to just keep moving my body and dancing, i wanna take another class so bad.

I think it goes without saying, but i’ll say it anyways TILLY IS SUCH AN AMAZING DANCER AND HER CHOREOGRAPHY IS SO GORGEOUS. we danced to nobody gets me by SZA and it was very contemporary based (my fav) and it’s so pretty, the way each move flowed into the next. like by the end i barely had to think about doing the perfect technique for the step because i knew my body would connect and feel the music. like i don’t know how to explain it, she just taught it THAT well.

Tilly does such a great job teaching!! She would teach a little bit of the combo, verbally check in, and we’d go over it with music a couple times. And she wouldn’t move on until everyone was comfortable with it. While nothing crazy, she went at the perfect pace and it made learning the combo so much easier.

I would also like to add that i was on zoom, and in the room, the people on zoom are projected on a TV at the front of the room with our names attached to our videos. And she would check in with us too!! (i did get jumpscared a little each time i heard my name ngl, but it was so cool)

That being said, at one point, she was trying to remember what she had choreographed next, and since i was in a big dance room by myself and forgot the WHOLE CLASS CAN SEE ME, the dancing fairies in my body took over and i just started messing around with coupe turns and just improving to what i thought was no one. And then all of a sudden i hear “OKAAAYYY DANCE ALYSSAA!!” from TILLY. and i got SO EMBARRASSED AND AWKWARD. then she laughed because of the face i made, which like, im honored, but ohh my godddd😭😭 (i was over the moon she liked my dancing tho)

Also you know the little spinny move she does on the tire during ggah?? she put it in the combo and ITS SO MUCH HARDER THAN IT LOOKS. but it also produced my favorite quote of the night: “If you fall?? who the fuck cares??” -Tilly Evans-Krueger

like i’m gonna be taking that with me in every class from now on.

Overall, i had the BEST time and i hope she does it again because she’s the absolute sweetest and such a great teacher!! (also i need to take more dance classes because im SO INSPIRED by her and so fired up about dance again)