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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 5 months ago

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L Lawliet X F!Reader Smut Oneshot

VERY SMUTTY SMUT, 18+

FINALLY finished! This was so fun to write, but I've been so distracted recently that I haven't been able to work on any of my hobbies. I apologize for going AWOL for like, what, a month? Anyway, hopefully finishing this will be the start of bringing writing back in my life. Enjoy, L fans, and let me know if you have ideas for more!

Warnings/contents: Oral (reader recieving), PinV, cowgirl, happy trail, slight amounts of biting, and a very tired man

L has been working far too much, and it's showing. Not only has he not been leaving the CTV screens, he's stopped sleeping all together. Not even at his seat. For someone so smart, you'd think he'd know to take better care of himself.

Well, tonight, he's finally returned to your shared bedroom, only to retrieve some important flash drive. You were laying upside down on the bed, your legs propped up on the headboard and your hands busy with a rather riveting game of snake.

As soon as you heard him walk in, you perked up, flipping around and watching him with intent, your phone playing a sad little song at your loss of the now irrelevant game. "Hey! are you done working?"

He had his hands in his pockets, his steps light but slow as he felt weighed down by his lack of energy. "I'm never done working," he answered simply, walking to the nightstand and crouching down in front of it.

He opened a drawer, which contained a safe. He typed in the 12 digit code, opening it and finding a few small files and three flash drives...none of which were the right one. "I put it right here...did you take the red drive from this safe," he asked with slightly narrowed eyes, turning to the left to face you.

"No...is something missing?"

He examined you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, taking in everything about you. This was the problem, he could never tell if you were lying. Whether it was that he was so infatuated with you he couldn't imagine you lying to him, or if you were simply that good, It was frustratingly inconvenient. Perhaps you simply never lied...that was the delirium from not sleeping speaking, most definitely.

"Are you lying," he asked simply.

"No, unfortunately. I wish I had it...I can help you look," you say sweetly.

"I will find it myself...thank you," he nodded, throwing the polite thanks on the end.

"If you say so," you say in obvious skepticism.

He stands back up, looking down at you as you laid back once more. "Do you doubt my ability," he asked challengingly.

"Well...no...It's just..." you look back up at his big, tired eyes, his face discreetly shifting back and forth between curiosity and annoyance.

You look back to your phone. "You've been so tired, you're running on fumes...I just don't think you're in the right place to be effectively searching for and finding things...or, remembering where you put things...or...doing detective work..."

Silence.

You slowly look back up at him, already wincing at how he must look. When your eyes met his, he just seemed...surprised?

"Do you really think my lack of sleep is affecting my efficiency in a palpable way?" He seemed to be considering the notion.

"I do. Very much so."

"Well...I don't have time to sleep," he mused lowly.

you could work with this. "Would you at least shower? It could help you relax, get your mind off things. It'd only take, like, what, 20 minutes?"

He thought about this.

"I suppose it may assist me in 'getting my mind off things'," he sighed. "Fine. But I'd like you to look for that flash drive while I'm gone," he said firmly. Even without the team around, he still acted like he was your boss. You looked up at him with raised brows.

"...please." This energy deficit was making it harder to engage in social conventions, it took a level of consciousness he did not have currently. Another reason he needed sleep.

"Sure," you said with a smile, sitting up. "Go on, go shower, I'll start looking right now," you assured, standing and guiding him to the bathroom. He walked on his own, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed, turning to face the room, scanning it, your brow furrowed. Then, the water turned on. You glanced to the door. You could hear the rhythm of the raining droplets interrupted by him getting in.

With a deep breath, you relax, walking to the nightstand and opening it back up. You typed in the code to the safe, It was a seemingly randomized combination of the numbers within you and Watari's respective birthdays.

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the flash drive, placing it atop everything else. You'd have to confess and apologize later, for tricking him. You really just needed a reason to get him away from his computer.

With a satisfied huff, you laid back down, continued your game of snake, and waited for him to get out.

fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door gently pushed open, and out L walked, seeming slightly better. he had a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, a slight and sparse amount of black hair barely visible above the pristine white of the fabric. Another towel was slung around his shoulders, catching the water dripping from his spiked black hair.

perfection.

You sat on the edge of the bed, smiling happily at him. "Hey, how do you feel? Better? About the flash-"

"I'd like to have sex."

Your mouth hung open for a moment, the suddenness shocking you. You supposed it was because he was lacked so much energy before, because him being so direct wasn't rare in the slightest. Meanwhile, he simply stared at you, waiting for a proper response.

"Right...right now?"

"Do you have any other plans?"

"Well, no," you say, laughing a little. "I thought you were tired. You should be tired."

"I am tired, but I've come to the conclusion that sex with you would be beneficial, more so than the shower, and more time efficient than proper rest."

You just laughed even more, giggling at his frankness. "Sure, yeah...so, I'm assuming you'll want to get straight to things? make it quick?" Nothing was unexpected with him, that was for sure.

"Well...not without foreplay. I'm not completely helpless," he muttered, his brows furrowing slightly at the insinuation he wouldn't. He could tell that's what you were thinking.

"Is that so? Here I was, thinking you'd leave me high and dry," you tease.

He took a step closer, before putting his foot up and onto the bed next to you and leaning over you. His hands were at his hips, the natural placement for him after so much time putting them in his pockets. "Do you think that lowly of me," he asked softly. His eyes were half lidded, staring deep into yours as if he were reading your soul, and his lips were parted, slowly taking in air, his breath warm against your face, so impossibly close to you.

Your skin was warming, blood rushing to your cheeks and nose as you take in the sight before you. Then, you smile, bringing your hands to cup his face. "You're trying too hard," you taunt, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. He closed his eyes, and when you pull away he leans in farther for a beat, as if he's trying to chase you. His serious expression disappears, and he sits up just a little more. "Am I," he asked, genuinely, cocking his head a little in curiosity.

He just makes you giggle, he's so funny without even realizing. "Yes," you laugh jokingly, nodding for a moment before you calm down. Then you lean in a little more, glancing down at the foot propped up on the bed, and quietly say, "No. It's nice, fun...but, I'd rather you just be yourself." You tilt your head up, your lips brushing against his, before you give him a true kiss.

He closes his eyes, a shiver running up his spine, and when your mouth opens to slide your tongue across his bottom lip, he gladly opens his own. Your hands stay to the sides of his face, and his eventually make their way to your shoulders. You stop for a moment, scooting backward. Without even thinking, he sits completely on the bed, just to follow your lips, and as a reward you waste no time kissing him again.

You stay like that for a while, making out while he sort of straddles your legs in his usual crouch, until he moves past your mouth and to your jaw. It surprises you for a moment, but you quickly adjust, your hand moving to his damp hair to steady yourself.

He leaves wet, meaningful kisses up your jawline, his hand sliding up to your neck to hold you in place. "Did you know," he starts, planting a kiss to the spot where your ear meets your jaw. "That the ear is one of the most sensitive parts of the body," he finishes, kissing at the shell of your ear and sucking on your lobe for a moment. He wasn't even trying to be overly sexy, at least not in his words, you could tell he simply said it because your ear made him think of it, but the candidness of this moment that was so L made you melt...especially because of his soft, low voice.

"Is that so," you ask, your voice wavering a little.

you could feel his smile against the skin of your ear as he left another impassioned kiss to the shell. "It appears it is," he hummed, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Maybe he was trying.

You could do nothing but let out a nervous giggle, your back arching upward until your chest met his. You turned your head, your ear no longer accessible to him, and planted a kiss to the side of his neck. You could feel him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. You kissed him again, this time slowly, and his hand moved to be in your hair, the other planted firmly on the top of your hip to steady himself.

You take the moment to remove the towel around his waist, glancing down to see just what you were working with...and there he was.

He was fully erect, around 6 inches, the pale pink tip beading with pre. Perfect. You almost reached out to touch him, to please him, but...

Finally, and rather suddenly, he mutters, "Sit back....please."

You don't argue, you just...do. You sit back from him. You could have kept going, just to tease him, but just in case he was overwhelmed, you sat back.

He wasn't overwhelmed, to your delight, and you knew because he leaned forward and brings his lips to your clavicle, placing a gentle but impassioned kiss there. He hears your breath catch, and as he looks up at you with his usual moon-eyed stare, he catches the way your nostrils flare, and your lips part. "You are aroused," he states softly, his hands running up your sides and under your shirt.

"I am," you titter, his cool hands sending a shiver up your spine as you watch him intently.

"If you take your shirt off, I may be able to assist you," he hums sarcastically, a slight, gentle smile across his face.

You roll your eyes, a big smile on your face as you remove your shirt, setting it aside. You take your bra off too, and your pants for good measure. The only thing left on you is your underwear, something that, as he trails feather light kisses down the valley of your breast and the center of your abdomen, he carefully removes with his thumbs and index fingers. By now, he's on his knees and bent forward completely, his hands holding your legs apart as he brings himself to be face to face with your aching folds.

he gazes up at you, not in question but in curiosity, almost a way to tease you. do you want this? how badly? you really want this, don't you?

He slowly licks his lips as his eyes flick back down to what was before him. He sticks his tongue out, giving a long, tentative lap up from your entrance to your clitoris. as his tongue slides up your clit, beneath the hood, your hips buck, just enough to let him know you're excited. With that, his lips lock onto it, his eyes half lidded as he lavishly sucks and laps, soft groans reverberating through you ever so gently as he pleasures you.

He always seems to enjoy this as much as you do, and with each moan you release, he responds to you with a particularly angled prod of his tongue, or a vibrating groan in return, rewarding the crescendo of your sounds.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, nestling in the soft black stands and gently pulling at the base. At the feeling, he releases a breath he seemed to have been holding, the air fanning against the skin of your thighs and lower abdomen. The sturdy grip he has on your hips tightens a little, and as your hips stutter with the eventual arrival of your orgasm, he looks back up at you, his eyes peering, examining, daring you to look anywhere but at him. You can't help but to stare back.

With one final lap of his tongue, you finish, back arching, head tossing back, your voice ringing through the room in what he can only describe as the song of the angels. He helps you through, gently sucking on your clit, and when you finally come down from it, he pulls away, licking the fluid from his chin and upper lip. It was sort of endearing, watching him do something that looked so...stupid, to put it bluntly.

You laugh despite your panting, smiling as he sits back with his knees rather relaxed compared to usual, not to his chest, although arched halfway there. "you were...considerably louder than usual. has it been a long time since you've experienced an orgasm?"

you almost wanted to chide him for asking a question that had such an obvious answer, but you supposed it was good he didn't negate the fact that you could self pleasure. "Nope. I guess you could say I've been saving myself for you," you sigh teasingly, crawling closer, over his legs, bringing your face and hips above his, respectively.

He instinctively takes your hips, looking up at you with a thoughtful expression. "Why would you do something like that," he asked disdainfully.

You laugh a little. "Does it matter?"

He pauses, looking to your hips. "I suppose not. It makes no difference to me," he muses.

You smile down at him with endearment, your hands sliding to his shoulders. No time to waste.

You lower yourself down his vehemently leaking cock, his grip tightening around you as you push yourself past his tip.

he leaned forward, his knees coming up, your body now between his chest and his legs as your hips met his. he wasn't especially girthy, but his length more than made up for it. You take in a breath, steadying on his shoulders, and slowly slide upward.

He watches with a sort of aroused fascination as you begin to ride him, his eyes not leaving the sight of your body taking his dick in and out, watching and feeling every twitch, listening to every sound, the variations, the angles, everything perceived. You wouldn't think he was enjoying himself all too much, given the fact he was only releasing tempered pants and the occasional hum, but it was his attention that gave it away. Nothing besides his work, and now you, has captured his attention so quickly and so intensely.

If he weren't so tired and in need of a proverbial "quickie," he'd have you in as many different positions as possible. He has a need to see every facet of you, to know how you look and feel and sound in every angle and situation...but, for now, the usual cowgirl will do. And it does, it does rather nicely.

He only looks up at your face when he takes notice of your own noises, growing in volume and desperation. Of course, when he looks up, he can really only see your tits, bouncing away, and he really has no choice but to lavishly suck on your nipple. a formality, truly. The sounds and expressions that elicits is simply heavenly.

He grips your hips tighter, and as the air from his nose fans across your chest, he thrusts himself up. You cry out, his tip unexpectedly hitting your cervix, and all you can do now is shift back and forth as he thrusts up, peer into his large observant eyes as he tongues your breast and uses your body as he wishes. The sight, the feeling, the sounds, it was all too much for you. You moan louder and louder, signaling an orgasm, and the moment his tip pounds a particular spot, you're done. Your hips buckle, your body shakes, and best of all for him, your walls constrict.

in mere moments after you, he begins to truly moan, his cheeks flushing as his orgasm grows closer. After one particularly fast and hard jerk of his hips, he's calling out your name, his teeth pressing into your chest as his lashes flutter, his cum releasing within you in quick spurts, riding the wave as your hips roll against his.

He said this would be quick, a way to relax while staying time efficient, but fortunately he was too tired to take his own tiredness into account. He fell completely asleep beside you, his head pressed into your chest and his legs pressed to your torso as you stroked his hair. He'd sleep for the next 14 hours, and while you got up to pick up the slack at work, get something to eat, or use the restroom, you always returned to him.

I genuinely looked like coraline's dad writing this. I had fun, but wow was I lethargic. I'd like to do this again though, hopefully when I'm feeling more determined!

Taglist: @cheekyweekymouse

#fanfic #fan fiction #l lawlight #l lawilet #l lawiet #l x reader #l death note #death note #death note l #death note fanfiction #death note smut #l lawliet smut

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sentinelsthiccass · 2 months ago

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TFO Actor AU Episode Three

Hobbies

Orion Pax: My hobbies? Well, I'm actually a lot like my character, a huge history nerd. Going to libraries and museums, checking out monuments and memorials... And I may or may not have snuck into places I shouldn't have to get more info...

D-16: Yeah. And just like in the movie, I get you out of trouble.

Orion Pax: I really do owe you... anyways, I also like cooking! Not sweets though, literally anything other than sweets. Not that I don't like sweets, just...

D-16: Any sweets he makes taste like dirt. He tried making cupcakes and almost burned down the kitchen.

Orion Pax: My fiancé won't even allow me to attempt to make sweets.

D-16: No need to talk about me like I'm not right here.

Orion Pax: I know... just wanted an excuse to remind people we're engaged... oh! I also like soccer. Though, sometimes I kick too hard. Like the time I nailed Elita in the face with the ball... didn't end well.

D-16, snickering: Didn't she break your arm?

Orion Pax: She broke my arm, yes.

D-16: Anyways... my hobbies now. I'm a collector of merch... specifically Megatronus merch. Yes, I am still a Megatronus fan in real life. I have a whole spare room for the stuff...

Orion Pax: You're such a dork!

D-16: Takes one to know one.

Orion Pax: Got me there.

The two giggle before D continues

D-16: I also make sweets. I'm the opposite of Orion, sweets are all I can make. Yet, ironically, I'm not much of a sweets person. So usually I just make it for others.

Orion Pax: We really are meant for each other...

D-16: Let's not get too sappy on camera, babe... lastly, and you're not gonna believe this... meditation. I meditate.

Orion Pax: He meditates.

D-16: I can absolutely be an aggressive person at times. So Alpha Trion suggested meditating to calm down. It actually does help, so I do it when angry or stressed or upset... you get the gist.

Orion yawns and leans on D, head on his shoulder.

D-16, chuckling: Looks like it's time to get some rest.

Orion Pax: Noooooo...

D-16: We can cuddle while we curl up together~

Orion Pax: ...fiiiiiine.

D and Orion start walking out. Orion ends up nearly falling over in his tiredness, so D scoops him up to carry him home.

---

Elita-1: My hobbies? I've got a few... gymnastics being one of them. I'm pretty agile, so it's right up my alley, you know?

B-127: I've seen her do some crazy scrap in gymnastics.

Elita-1: Oh yeah. But that stuff is super advanced takes ages of practice.

B-127: How long have you been doing it?

Elita-1: I've lost track... anyways, I also do boxing.

B-127: Anyone could have guessed that one, considering how often she punches people. Good sport for her, huh?

Elita-1: Oh, shut up, you little yellow pest.

B-127: Rude... but yeah, she is good at it, I go to all her matches to show my support, just like how I go to Orion's soccer games to cheer him on and D's conventions to help him carry stuff!

Elita-1: You are still a little pest at times... but you know we appreciate that, we appreciate your support. You're a good friend, B...

Elita pats B and B giggles.

B-127: Awwww, you do like me!!

Elita-1: Shut up before I take it back... anyways, I can't really think of any more off the top of my head... you can go, B.

B-127: Ooooh, okay, my turn! First off, I'm a huge techie! I love working with technology, be it repairing things, building my own inventions, stuff like that!

Elita-1: We rely on him to repair our scrap so much... but he always yaps our audials off as he repairs things.

B-127, giggling: I do talk a lot, huh? Anyways, this isn't limited to regular tech stuff, either. I also love building things in general with whatever I can get my hands on. One of the rooms in my house is an entire advanced Lego city, complete with working stoplights and a remote control train.

Elita-1: Seriously? How long did that take?

B-127: Dunno... anyways, lastly, I like drawing! Mainly just little doodles, nothing much.

Elita-1: You probably draw like a sparkling.

B-127: Hey!

#transformers one #tf1 #orion pax #b 127 #d 16 #elita one #actor au #au #hobbies #dpax

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olderthannetfic · 3 months ago

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I have a fandom friend who isn't shy about sending me her fics in the DMs and asking me to read them (not as in beta reading but as in link to AO3).

The thing is, they're really not up my alley because I'm really finnicky about style and story construction and the like: her fics have a lot of telling and not a lot of showing, there's rarely significant tension or change (which might not bother some but it does bother ME personally as a reader), so there's nothing pushing me to read on, and she usually writes detached scenes from the AUs she has in her head, which feels a bit like someone grabbing me by the pussy with no foreplay. I'm not that familiar with the version of the characters/story from the AU so I'm not attached to those storylines the way she is (again, no buildup of tension that makes the emotional scene hit right).

Basically, I really enjoy talking about The Blorbos with her but every time I have to read something of hers it feels like a chore and I either get bored in two paragraphs or my hand starts itching for a red pen. Sometimes I just put it off and hope she forgets but I feel awful and guilty about it because she clearly cares about her fic (it's just too self-indulgent for me to enjoy it from the outside).

She never asks for feedback, so I think it would be incredibly rude to give unsolicited critique or, like, suggest that I could be a beta reader (with how forward she is she'd have asked already if she wanted it).

How do I address this? I want to keep being on friendly terms with her and I'd be open to reading more from her if she fixed some of the consistent issues with her writing (I think the CONCEPTS she entertains are interesting and cool), but also for me the joy of having a hobby is being able to engage with it on my own terms without having "required reading" and what's going on right now ain't it.

(I'm aware that this will make so many people feel really insecure and paranoid about their own writing/readership and I'm sorry for that :/ I'm sure there are people who do enjoy my friend's fic as is, but I can't help my own preferences or attention span)

Does she press you for a reaction? If a friend sends me a link, I often thank them for it but don't actually read. Or maybe I skim it or something but don't actually say much to them about it.

I think it's fine to go "I posted a thing!" with the link and expect a "Wow, you finished that so fast!" or "Congrats on finally finishing that longfic!" or whatever. I think it's unwise to expect one's friends to read all of one's work, to like one's work, and to give praise. That way lies disappointment and awkward feelings on both sides.

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m-jelly · 7 months ago

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My lovely passenger princess.

Levi had plenty of money as the CEO of a tea, coffee and biscuit company. He could pay for everything and a lot more. After becoming a couple and getting engaged, the talk of possibly leaving your job so you could spend more time together came up. However, it resulted in Levi buying you a little shop where you sold plushies, noodles and snacks.

Your shop was your pride and joy. You loved the little area where people could make their noodles, eat and drink something nice too. Your place was like a cute version of a Japanese or Korean convenience store. It was only part-time for you because you wanted to do some hobbies and your staff were amazing, so the store was perfect.

Levi always picked you up from work, he loved doing it. He drove to your shop and walked inside with your favourite drink in hand from Starbucks. He couldn't help but smile when he saw you in your adorable little uniform.

"Bunny?"

You squeaked in delight, pulled your apron off and ran to your man. "Hello, Levi! Can I get a kiss and a cuddle?"

He leaned over and kissed you before wrapping his arm around you. "Mm, Always. You ready to go home?"

"Yes!"

He handed you the drink before putting his arm around you and leading you to his car. He opened the door for you and smiled when you got in. "Beautiful little bunny. I can't believe you'll be my wife soon."

You grinned at him. "I'm all yours, handsome."

He got on his side and relaxed. "Choose the music, okay?"

You connected your phone to his car and played a playlist you both loved. "This okay?"

"Anything you like is perfect, but wonderful choice." He leaned over and kissed you. "Strap in and make sure the seatbelt comforter is on your shoulder so it doesn't dig in."

You giggled as you did what he asked. You shifted the soft cover on the seatbelt onto your shoulder. "Ready."

He pulled away from the parking spot and started driving through the city. He reached over and placed his hand on the inside of your thigh. He would softly massage occasionally but release you when he needed to manoeuvre or change gear, when he was done he'd be back to massaging.

He pulled up to a red light with a long line. He leaned over and kissed you. "You need a snack?"

You hummed. "Sure."

He opened the compartment between the two of you to show the snack supply and drinks. "Anything you want?"

You grabbed some chocolate and ate a piece before feeding Levi some. "So yummy."

He licked his lips. "Mm, it is."

You grabbed a drink and helped Levi have it. "Thank you for the snack compartment."

He smirked at you. "Anything for you." He took your hand and showered it with kisses. "My bunny princess."

You giggled. "I'm all yours."

He released you and huffed. "Green light."

You hummed a laugh and enjoyed how grumpy Levi was. You reached over and rubbed his thigh making him smile. "There, there, Levi."

He took your hand and moved it up his thigh. "I'm happy now."

You leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." He glanced over at you. "You want to go out for dinner?"

"Okay! Where are we going?"

He used his special technique that always worked. "Guess."

You frowned in such a cute way before a brightness engulfed your face. "Ramen!?"

He never had an idea of where to go and he knew if he asked you what you wanted, you'd get very shy. So, he'd always get you to guess and say yes to whatever you said because what you said was what you wanted. "Correct."

You wiggled in your seat. "Yes!"

He pulled up to a ramen place before leaning over to you. "Kiss?"

You kissed him over and over. You purred into the kiss when he tangled his fingers in your hair and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You shivered when his other hand moved up between your legs and massaged a sensitive part on the inside of your thigh.

He pulled back and lightly kissed you. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "Ready?"

"Mm."

He kissed your cheek. "Let me get the door for you." He got out before walking around to your side and opening the door. He offered his hand to you. "Come on, princess bunny."

You held his hand and stepped out. "Thank you."

He tugged you against him and kissed you. "Mm, mine."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi x you #levi x y/n #fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi x yn #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #jelly fanfics #jelly fanfic

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leggerefiore · 7 months ago

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I've been forced to push myself too much at work and now I'm sick and exhausted 😩 can I request the dead inside trio and submas comforting a sick/overworked s/o??

I struggled a lot with this one so it's probably not my best

cw: stress, comfort, mentions of fainting in some parts

character: Ingo, Emmet, Nanu, Cyrus, Larry

▲Ingo▼

● His immediate thought is to scold you after you basically collapsed from overwork. As your emergency contact, he was naturally the one they called when it occurred. When you declared yourself fine, if not just a bit tired, he helped get you back home to rest. Your work had so kindly given you a few days off work to recuperate, seemingly horrified at the thought they were quite literally working you ragged. So, as you lay in bed at home, Ingo also took opted to take a few days off to help you relax, too. His worrying would have made doing his normal work next to impossible, he knew. Emmet was more than happy to give him the time, anyway, knowing how badly he often overworked himself, too. It may have felt a bit hypocritical when Ingo chided you for letting yourself be worked like that, but it was a sign of his genuine care. He was in an absolute panic when he got the call about your collapse and could not have gotten off the battle line any sooner.

● Ingo will make you rest. There will be no chores or anything done until you had at least a day or two of unwinding. At best, you can convince him to help him as he handles the chores. At worst, he chases you away from even something as simple as folding towels. He does not want you to further exhaust yourself – The image of you suddenly collapsing now burned into his mind. Why your work thought it was okay to treat you like this until the very extremes was beyond him. He certainly would never do that to his employees. That could endanger the lives of so many for little return. He bites his lip as he knows you will not want the offer to work under him. It was wrong for him to consider nepotism there, even when it came from genuine concern for you.

● Instead, he focuses that energy into doting on you. Ingo dutifully makes many dishes that you like simply so you keep up with meals, worries that it may have also been a factor in some way. Any hobbies you have are also brought up and engaged if it suits you. He also spends plenty of time just cuddled up with you and reminding you how much he does truly love you. Part of his behaviour is like an overbearing mother. This has shocked him horribly, and he now completely understands how you feel when he overworks himself. Internally, he makes a promise to never do that to himself again if you feel this horrible concern as he does. In the end, you will feel well rested and stress-free. Ingo works tirelessly to make it so. You both make a promise to not let the other do that to themself any more.

▽Emmet△

○ The younger twin notices the telltale signs of your behaviour and feels a mild annoyance. Nothing really bad, just a thought that you and Ingo were acting for too similarly for his liking. He is certain to stop you before it becomes bad. A bright smile on his lips as he tells you to demand time off work. He feels you need at least a day to gather yourself, but he knows more would be better here. No matter what, he would panic if you got worse. Emmet is bad at expressing his worry, and he may just actually go into your job, ask for you, pick you up, and carry you away. He is just impossibly worried. Ingo is bad enough… The thought of you in such a state is enough to make him start being more aggressive in his battles. When you finally do get that time off, he finally eases him up on people to a point where it is noticeable and debated among Depot Agents.

○ Emmet instantly takes off time alongside you. He is so worried about you and wants to make sure that you actually relax on your time off. His mind thinks about a time he forced Ingo to take a day off and came home to find him having cleaned their shared apartment. He does not want something similar to occur here. Any household chores and needs can be handled by him. He will not pretend like he enjoys doing them particularly, but making sure that you are resting his highest priority. There is something oddly endearing about the younger twin dutifully washing dishes while you lay out on the couch cuddling with his Galvantula (who he asked to keep you busy). Seeing you unwind makes him feel immense relief, truthfully. The poor man was nearly really about to physically drag you from your work to make you relax.

○ He gets take out from any place you want in an attempt to make sure you are getting proper meals and not having to stress yourself with even minor cooking. He internally knows he is being a bit ridiculous there, but he has scared himself too much. His cooking skills are lacking, and he is a bit terrified of somehow accidentally poisoning you. Joltik cuddle time is assured also. He figures the little bugs have some energy to spare with you, and time spent with some cute things might reinvigorate your exhausted mind. Emmet cuddle time happens as well. He is almost constantly all over you since he is just so worried. There will be no escaping his affection. (Unless you tell him you cannot relax with him clinging to you. In which he will pout but relent.) You have to promise him that you will not let this happen so badly again. You and Ingo will make him “was Emmet” instead at this rate.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 He notices when you start overworking yourself and throws out a helpful remark about not doing that. Nanu knows there is not a lot you can really do – especially if it's work making you like this. At best, he can tell you about standing your ground, but he knows boundaries will not always be respected. He does feel a bit frustrated seeing you like that despite it all. His indifferent facade melts away, especially after you end up having bad exhaustion spells. It is then that he helps you schedule time off since you clearly need it. He has seen some people collapse from exhaustion back in his International Police days, so he refuses to let you get to that point. And, admittedly, he used to be guilty of overworking, too. Obviously, not these days, but he still remembers.

🌑 Your time off is spent strictly away from anything that might be too much. Nanu cannot really stop you, in truth, should you want to, though. Mostly, he just asks that you let yourself relax and forget about any obligations for at least a day if they are not overly important. It is hard to deny the old man such a request. Besides, his Meowths are clearly ready to lounge around with you. How could you say no to some lazy times with the kitties? You really cannot decline when one opts to curl up on your lap and sleeps so peacefully while purring. (Nanu sent them after you, wanting to make sure you had a little time off your feet.) The Kahuna opts to handle a few things around the home to keep them off your mind, too. There is something a little sweet about catching the old man folding laundry and glancing at you reading on the couch.

🌑 He also goes out of his way to subtly do numerous things for you to help you recover. Casually, he will pick up takeout for you to eat or even try to bravely cook you something of edible quality. There is something nice about simply sharing a meal with you and helping you relax. Usually, you end up lounging out on the couch, watching some show half-heartedly. His arm rests around your shoulder as he pulls you close to him. Red eyes drift, to you leaning against him, and a sigh leaves him. He was ready to do everything you wanted, honestly. You could ask him to juggle, and after his initial deadpan, he may just try. You agree to be more careful next time in the end, seeing how genuinely concerned that Kahuna was for you.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He fails to notice at first – Something that will bother him immensely for far longer than he will ever admit. The blue-haired man usually does keep a close eye on you, as he is distantly aware that he worries about you far too much. Yet here, where he felt it most important, he had failed. You had fainted at work from sheer exhaustion, and he had been called as your emergency contact. Mortification was the only thing he could feel while rushing over to get you. Whatever harsh words that he used to hit your workplace with about being so negligent were swallowed as he instead confirmed that you were otherwise alright. Thankfully, they gave you a few days off in response to such a grievous situation. Or, perhaps, it was due to Cyrus's terrifying expression as he helped you up.

☄️ Whatever hypocritical nature may be present as he scolds you about taking adequate breaks and pacing yourself with work completely goes over his head. Even attempting to bring it up will make him insist that it is different from what he is doing. (In a sense, it is.) He also bars you from doing any housework. Cyrus has no reservations about doing them anyway— It is almost relaxing to him in a way. (Once again, chiding him back for overworking will not lead to realisation.) There is even an offer to book you some kind of spa or massage appointment to help you further relax. He would admit to having gone to a few himself during more light moments of stress. Cyrus would take off the day following you passing out, but not really anymore. Though, he does check in on you throughout the day. If you do take the spa offer, however, he may join you. Free Cyrus date at the cost of your mental and physical health.

☄️ Most of his real effort is far subtler. He is not inexperienced in cooking and will take over that while you recover. Most of the meals are more basic, but there is a surprise attempt at making something he knows that you like. It is not half bad. He also seems to come home more regularly, wanting to make sure that everything is going well and that your condition is not worsening. This means more time to spend with him. While he usually opts to focus on home upkeep, if you ask for some physical affection, he will relent to it. Your comfort matters most to him as it stands. He honestly is willing to do many things he otherwise would refuse normally simply to make you happy. (If he was even in the middle of his plans, he might be willing to drop them if it seems like they would stress you out even more.) In the end, you do make the decision not to overwork yourself because Cyrus obvious worry is a rare thing, and it made it clear that what you were doing was too much.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 He does not notice. There is a large amount of shame in failing to notice this happening, yet his work simply keeps him too tired to really give anything his full attention. Sure, he had seen the signs, but he had thought it was mostly him projecting. Then, you suddenly had intense fatigue at work and had to call him to come pick you up. He was mortified when he recognised you symptoms as so familiar to him. This was a common thing he experienced, admittedly. Walking you home, he asked you to schedule a few days off if possible. He knew it was a lead into a fainting episode or extreme burnout. Both of which he thought were best to avoid. He knew how difficult management could be, but he was far too worried about you. There was some relief that it got approved quickly soon after.

🍙 He struggles to really know what to do to relax. Whenever he gets himself into such a state, he usually sleeps for a few days until he has to return to work. Whether you wanted to do that or not was beyond him, but he does mention it. There is some mention of how to better manage a workload between you both, but it is a struggle for him, too. How you kept going on so long like that was truly not within his range of comprehension. Larry opts to aid you by covering house chores and doing other various things for you. He could not get any time off to join you himself, but he works to avoid overtime, so you have him around more. His Staraptor seems to decide to keep an eye on you, too, when he is home. The bird cawing whenever you tried to do anything more intense than putting dishes in a dishwasher. It seemed that if it could not stop its trainer from stressing himself, it would stop you.

🍙 Larry is not only coming home more often, but he tries to be more engaging with you when at home. Casual check-ins on you become more common since he does not want to fail to notice anything going on with again. Lazy affection is also common. You both often end up lounging on the couch together, forgetting whatever woes had been bothering you. He frequently calls ahead before he comes home, too, to ask about what food you want. He is certainly no cook, but he does know the best restaurants in Medali. You will whatever food you desire. Larry does not care if he ends up having to visit Kofu to get it. He also discusses the situations vaguely a bit with you and gives you more experienced advice on how to handle situations at work to make life more bearable. In the end, you return back to work better equipped to advocate for yourself, and be more mindful of your workload. Larry is relieved.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #nanu x reader #cyrus x reader #larry x reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon nanu x reader #pokemon larry x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #cyrus/reader #nanu/reader #larry/reader

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road-kill-eater · 3 months ago

Note

The storybook tone of your last post is really great. I hope you do feel up to sharing more of your writing with us some day because I think it's genuinely wonderful, as is the artwork you've paired with it. If it were a book I could buy, I'd do so in a heartbeat ❤️

I have received this request before, so here, I've polished up this opening chapter somewhat. Keep in mind, it is still a very rough draft, and I write only as a nighttime hobby, and have only rarely shared any of my work, and it is very much amateur quality, but I am proud of it.

Boots sighed as he laid his arms upon the edge of the stone battlement, staring lazily out across the village that stretched beyond the castle. It was not his, and would never be his, what with his two older brothers and father still in good health. That, at least, was fortunate, for while he was a prince he had never once desired to rule anything, not even an anthill, and especially not his fathers kingdom.

It was early spring now, and the city was bustling just the same as the swallows that were building nests in the castle towers, and the bees that were scouring the meadows for the first clover and honeyberry. He watched as ox carts filtered in through the front gates, bearing grains and textiles and fruits and metals and wood and all manner of trading goods. At first it had been just a passing fancy, but now the thought of dipping into the crowd to live amongst them was increasingly attractive.

Surely there would be a lot to learn, the townspeople would scoff at his ignorance, and any work he found would be grueling and difficult compared to his rather leisurely life in the castle, but at least it would be different. He wouldn't have to always run when summoned, have his clothes and appearance constantly fretted over, nor have to worry over his fathers bitter approval and mothers jovial rejection.

Boots sighed and rested his chin upon his hands, they were but the thoughts of a fool. Then he suddenly felt the back of his shirt pulled up and forwards, yanking him along with it. He cried out as the great void yawned out below him, and his legs kicked out wildly in the empty air.

His brother laughed before pulling him back over the battlement and letting him drop onto the cold stone. He landed in a heap, his teeth clicking on his tongue and cheek smashing against the ground.

"Careful, brother, if you lose yourself you might fall." The tall man guffawed, slapped his friend on his shoulder.

Boots sniffed and sat up, bringing a shaky hand up to investigate his bloody lip. He was regrettably used to such disgrace, and past experience had taught him it was easier not to fight back at all, no matter how he wanted to. Often he wished to wring his brother's thick neck, though his own hands were hardly large enough to wrap around it.

"If you do then they'll feed you to the monster under the castle." His brother jeered, "I heard it likes prince's best."

"There's no monster." Boots grumbled, pulling out a pebble embedded in his lip, "You think I'm a fool."

His brother reached down to ruffle Boots' hair roughly, "You weren't even born when they brought it in but I saw it. All chained up and bigger than a bear, and just as hungry. It used to terrorize the countryside and eat the traders, carts and all."

"Why not just kill it then?" Boots stared at the ground.

"To let it loose on our enemies, should we ever be sieged." His brother proclaimed, "Try to use that little brain of yours."

Boots scowled as the two men went off, sure to leave chaos in their wake. Despite his resentment he still felt quite curious. It was not the first time he had heard of such a monster, but he had passed it off as a mere rumor, like a story told by his mother to keep him from misbehaving. But his brother hardly engaged in such fanciful thinking, and Boots knew there must be something locked away, even if it was just a kenneled lion, or perhaps a cockatrice.

After his near brush with a lethal plunge he was happy to descend the many staircases and get down to ground level. Here there was little that had ever attracted him, nothing but old cobblestone and stray cats yowling for their mates. He would much rather sit and practice his flute in the bailey, with its beautiful oak trees and small pasture, or take his horse out for a jaunt. But he was so curious he couldn't help himself and trod about the inner walls of the castle, even if he was half sure that his brother had been lying, and would surely hunt him down to berate him for being so gullible.

Boots paused when he realized he had passed right by an old grate, though it looked to be nothing special. The bars were rusty and worn with age, and thicker than he had ever seen, wider than his own forearm. He could not think as to why such a grate would be there, for the prison was well on the other side of the walls, so he crouched down and narrowed his eyes to peer into the dark.

"Hello?" He asked, raising his long ears up as far as he could. He repeated the greeting once, a little louder, then felt foolish and decided he must give up this venture altogether before he humiliated himself.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard the creak of metal on metal, then the unmistakable sound of chain links clashing as they rose.

He immediately dropped back down to his knees, hesitant to get too close. He had no clue of what manner of beast this could be, perhaps a great dragon that could spit fire upon him, or an eagle that could carry away a horse, or something he could hardly imagine. He supposed next time he should bring a torch to drop through the bars so he might catch a glimpse. But perhaps it was only another prisoner, simply kept apart from the others due to some exceedingly dangerous nature.

"My brother told me there was a terrible monster kept beneath the castle." He said, his tail curling around his leg nervously.

"That is I." Came a voice like a mountain breaking in twain, like the sea crashing upon rocky spires, like the rumble of a hundred heavy hooves shaking the earth.

Boots gaped, "Of w-what manner of creature are you?" He asked, his own voice sounding so very small in comparison.

"Lonesome." The voice replied, "All my own." And in it he could hear the things sorrow, that of utter despair and consignment to its miserable fate.

"Why were you locked up, lonesome thing?" Boots felt his tail twitch with excitement.

"I did terrible things, I was very cruel, it is in my nature," The voice mourned, "All I have to think on is my many misdeeds."

"I suppose that is fair." Boots shrugged, "Do they feed you down there?"

"Never enough. Only to keep me alive, but I am so much less now than before. I cannot even break my chains." The voice replied.

"Oh, I have some snacks." Boots pulled out a bundle of shortbread he had been munching on throughout the day.

"I do not deserve it." The monster rumbled, its cadence flat and monotone.

"A little treat cannot hurt. My brother said you've been locked here for years." Boots stuffed a piece in his mouth then gently tossed the sack through the bars.

"So long I have forgotten the sun, it never passes by this place. I am ever in the dark." The unknown creature continued, and he heard the sound of its chains rattling as it investigated the sack.

"I cannot believe you are real, I was sure my brother was just tricking me again." Boots said, and realized he was surprisingly elated by this discovery. Life within the castle walls could be so dreary and monotonous, but here was something unlike anything else, something almost no one knew about.

"I must go now, or I'll be missed at my lesson. But I'll come back another day." Boots stood back up and skipped away.

"Don't leave." Came the voice behind him, sounding so muffled and weak now.

Boots was so distracted during his lesson he was admonished for not paying attention, and so excited he could hardly sleep the whole night, nor wait for a chance the next day to steal away to the monster's window. This time he came with a load of shortbread cookies stuffed into his shirt, as well as a candle so he might catch a glimpse of it.

"Good evening." Boots greeted, not feeling half so hesitant as before. He was fairly sure now the monster couldn't hurt him from behind the bars.

In response he heard only the sound of chains being dragged along a stone floor.

"It looks like it might rain tonight, does it ever flood your cell?" Boots asked, sitting down next to the bars. Try as he might, it was just as dark as before, and he could see nothing of the beast.

"Sometimes." The ragged voice sighed, catching in its throat as if it was still getting used to speech once more.

"That's a shame. How much longer will you be kept?" Boots tilted his head, "My brother said that he saw you locked away when I was but a child."

"Forever." The dark voice spoke, "There can be no punishment terrible enough for what I have done. Here I shall stay until the sun burns out."

"Oh," Boots frowned, "Do you want some cookies?" He began pulling them from his shirt and stacking them between the iron bars.

He didn't get a response and twitched his tail impatiently, "Do you have a name?"

"It is long forgotten." The monster said, his voice a thick growl.

"Oh, well I'm Boots, the king is my father." He bent over to light the candle.

"I am hardly fit to entertain royalty." Said the monster.

"Ah, I am hardly such. I'm the youngest of three brothers, I'll only ever be a prince. Luckily." Boots shrugged.

He caught sight of a glimmer of something sharp rising from the darkness to snatch up a cookie from the ledge. The flicker of his candle illuminated it just enough so he could recognize it as the hooked tip of a beak. Then he heard horrible gnashing sounds as the monster ate.

"Might I see you? I am rarely allowed to venture from the castle. All day I have to learn about the practicalities of my station, and it's very boring. My brothers hunt salamanders and jaculus, while I am shuttered at home." Boots sighed wistfully, "I did see a sea serpent once when my brother took me fishing, though."

"First tell me of the serpent, princeling." The monster requested.

Boots leaned back against the cobblestone wall, "The weather turned sour, but we were hooked onto a great fish with a nose like a spear and fins like kites. When it breached it flew nearly as high as our mast. I had to strap my brother down so he didn't go overboard, and still it pulled our boat to and fro, so great was its strength it pulled us against the current, so waves broke over our bow."

"I have never been upon the sea." The monster said softly.

"It is a beast unto itself! Like being on the back of some great stallion, which rears and shakes and lashes its wild mane across ships. And when it takes off you can only ride it out and hang tight upon the lines. As we did as we battled this fish, until my brothers' arms shook and he begged me to take the line but I couldn't, it would have drawn me right into the brine, but at least then he could have blamed me for it all." Boots laughed, "And then the clouds parted, a shaft of light turned the sea to frothing amber, and I saw a great head spear up through the waves, the fish between its jaws. It was scaled with gold and green, and its body went on and on, piercing through wave after wave. Steam shot out from its nose and it coiled about and made to sink back down. Then I had to cut the line lest my brother's arms be torn off for his stubbornness, but he still hated me for it, he never even saw the serpent."

"Is such a fish so valuable to you? Don't the merchant carts I hear every morning deliver everything you could desire?" The monster asked.

"Yes, but they can't deliver renown or victory. That is what my brother seeks, he is always out hunting and dueling. Last week he brought back a cockatrice and had it mounted above the fireplace before our mother had it taken down and burned. He was so mad he started a terrible fight at a tavern that same night." Boots laughed lightly.

"I thought your sort did not fight amongst themselves." The monster growled, "Yet you say your brother may have drowned you in the sea to save face?"

"Well we usually don't kill each other, only duel until mercy is called for. But the northern streets are dangerous, I hear. The cooks were talking about a masked killer that jumps from roof to roof, and steals in through open windows to slit throats!" Boots thumped his tail upon the ground, "And you must know we have our enemies, the kingdom to the east is forever starting trouble, raiding villages on the border until we send our soldiers to make them run off. I would love to see such a battle."

"Once this land was very different from where we now sit. Another kingdom, another castle. I think you must have killed them all." The monster said.

"Oh," Boots grimaced, the thought made him a bit uncomfortable, "But that was long ago. And it is the way of things, is it not? But perhaps if I was king I would find a way to end all wars."

"It is the way of things!" The beast raised its voice and he suddenly heard the chains rattling as it were rising upwards, "There is nothing that lives without conquering another. No sapling grows tall without choking out its siblings, no stag grows fat without devouring insects with its leaves. Even the most pampered lapdog demands blood."

"We are hardly stags nor dogs." Boots puffed, "Have some more cookies, I'll have to leave soon for my own dinner."

He watched as the beak snatched up a few more morsels from the ledge, and he caught the glint of a long tooth, so sharp he could immediately imagine how easily it could hook into his flesh.

"I brought you a candle, perhaps some light would be nice?" He pushed the candleholder upon the ledge as well, though he really just wanted to catch sight of the monster.

"To see my own ruin?" The monster groaned, "I'd rather languish in the dark."

"Well, I should like to see you." Boots said, his voice trembling, "You said you are alone in the world."

"Then I shall see you too, princeling." The monster growled with a voice like a storm that brought down forests.

Huge talons clicked as they set upon the stone, wickedly sharp and curved like an eagles, each the length of his middle finger at least. Then a long face burst forth from the dark, its sharp angles illuminated by the flickering candle. It was like a vulture mated with a wolf, its tapered, crooked snout ridged with wrinkles and beset with jagged, irregular fangs. Its eyes were narrow and seemed alight with mirth, or scorn, or sheepishness. He couldn't tell for the monster had no pupil nor iris, only a solid band of gold between its eyelids, dull and lightless.

The monster looked down at him for a moment, then took in a great breath and snorted, the gush of warm air killing the candle instantly.

Boots came again in the evening, but this time it had taken many days before he dared to meet the monster once more. Its terrible visage had struck him with such fear that he had sworn the entire venture off as ridiculous and obscene. But he simply couldn't get the thought of it out of his head. Unlike so many, it had seemed invested in his conversation for its own sake, and he still had many questions to ask. So when the rest of the castle was merrymaking at a lavish ball he stole away through the long shadows, careful to make sure no one truly noticed him. He was just the youngest of three brothers after all, and neither the smartest nor the strongest, and the lack of expectations or much responsibility gave him a certain level of freedom, in truth his absence would be a blessing.

"Good evening." He announced, "I'm sorry it's been so long."

The chains rattled and grinded in response.

"Are you lonely? Or would you rather I leave?" Boots asked trepidatiously, aware that he could very easily inflict himself upon others without a care for their desires.

"My loneliness has worn a hole through my chest and now I am a hollow thing." The monster keened.

Boots felt his heart tugged by the words and huddled up next to the window, "Don't worry, I brought snacks again." He fished out the pastries from his shirt and set them on the ledge.

"Did you bring a candle? The night is very cold." The monster asked.

"I forgot. Next time I will bring you the biggest blanket I can find." Boots thumped his tail on the ground, "I came because I must ask you a question."

"Yes?"

"You said that there used to be another people who lived here. Are you so old as to remember them? Or did you learn of it?" He asked.

"I have long forgotten how old I am. A year to you might be a day to me, but within this cage an hour feels as eternity." The monster mourned, "I am old enough I have seen many of your kings rise and fall, each the same as the last."

"Oh, they didn't impress you?" Boots rested his cheek against the stone.

"Little does. Once I could topple houses and trees like toys, I could rip a horse in twain, I could eat a hundred kings, and a thousand princes." The monster thundered, it's usually monotone voice now crackling with passion.

"How were you ever caught, then?" Boots wondered.

"Your king sent an army of horsemen to find me. For every one I slew, two more came with arrows to pierce me through, until I laid upon a mound of corpses and breathed blood." The monster gnashed its teeth and shook its chains, "The arrows were little more than needles to me, but they were dipped in poison that made me ill. I was not used to such trickery, and I was too proud to flee."

"Such a sight that must have been!" Boots gasped, "Whatever did you do to deserve that?"

The monster lowered its great head against the bars, its hooked beak sticking out between them, "I was very bad. I devoured sheep and cattle, I stole whatever I had need for, and slayed any who would stop me. Farmers and hunters and woodsmen and soldiers alike fell beneath my claws."

The monster paused and a long, shuddering breath sloughed out through its bared teeth, "I did not need to do such things, it was a madness that had taken hold of me. Now the regret torments me, I have long meditated upon my crimes."

Boots wanted to reach his hand out and pat the twisted beak that rested upon the ledge, but soon thought better of it. The monster's misery seemed so deep and pitiful to him, but it had been so shy in simply revealing itself. To be touched would surely be a shock.

"I'm sorry, lonely beast." Boots whispered.

"I am gentled now." The monster sighed, "I only wish to lay in the sun once again, or drink from a clear stream, or feel the wind in my fur. If I stay here much longer I shall surely perish, never to hear birdsong again."

"Oh, I have something close." Boots said and pulled his flute from his knapsack. He knew the instrument so well it was easy for him to lay his fingers in their familiar places along its length, even despite the dim evening light. Then he began to play, at first the notes were uncertain and wandering as he worried he would embarrass himself, but he soon found his footing and grew more confident as he focused on the music. He played one song and then the next, transitioning between them with little stumbling.

"Much prettier than a simple bird." The monster drawled, its huge, gnarled hands now laid out between the bars. Boots could easily imagine such hands reaching out to wring his neck, and yet they also seemed so placid, as if the monster was just another feral horse to tame.

Boots played until the last light had faded from the sky, like a solemn lullaby for a beast. Then he rose to pick up his things.

"Don't leave." The monster pleaded.

"The servants will notice my absence, it isn't becoming for a prince to be skulking about after dark, and if I raise too much suspicion they might seek to follow me." Boots replied.

"I do not want to be alone anymore." The monster insisted.

"I'll return again soon, you'll see." Boots consoled, and leaned down to pat the monster on the tip of its sharp snout. It was rough and weathered, and hot to the touch, as if the beast had a fever.

"If I am ever freed I would like to take you to dance." The monster called, trying to continue their conversation and draw Boots into lingering.

"Maybe. Farewell." Boots said as he left, and felt such a heavy weight in his chest he could hardly hold it.

Boots didn't return to the monster for another week, though every night he thought of it, alone in the dark with nothing but its memories to keep it company. He tried to imagine living so miserably for so many long years and the very thought made his stomach churn. Surely it had suffered enough by now, and the thought occurred that he could entreat his father of its discharge, but he knew that would be in vain, and they would both be punished for his trouble.

When he did approach the beast's window again, he almost ran off before greeting it. His chest fluttered, his head swam, but he couldn't bring himself to step closer, nor could he turn away.

The monster must have heard his footfalls, for he saw its snout stick out from between the bars, its deep exhalations kicking up clouds of dust over the cobblestones.

"Are you there?" The monster called out, unable to see him past the obstructing stone walls.

"Yes." Boots sighed and slowly approached, feeling all the more flighty for the monster's eagerness.

Then the glinting golden eyes watched him closely, and now seemed to have their own faint light within them.

"What is the matter?" The monster demanded, running its beak up and down the bars.

"Oh, nothing." Boots sighed and pulled off the blanket he had worn as a shawl, "Here, I brought you this."

The long talons yanked the blanket through the bars, then the monster shuffled and in the evening glow Boots could see that it had affixed the quilt about its shoulders just as he had worn it, though it hardly fit.

"I look quite handsome now, yes?" The monster clacked its jaw and seemed to laugh, the sound coming out as a ragged rumble.

Boots smirked with mock amusement, though in truth he felt hollow. He had been unable to get these late meetings out of his mind, but now that he was here he felt conflicted. No one, let alone a prince, should never involve himself with such a creature, no matter how pitiable. And yet he returned, with gifts to win its favor and soothe its misery.

"Something is wrong, princething." The monster rumbled, "I am old enough to know."

He tugged on his long, velvety ear, "My brother was quite mean to me today, but that's not unusual."

"How so?"

Boots sat down with a sigh, pulling all manner of fruits and pastries from his shirt, "He likes to push me about, make me trip or tug on my tail, never anything cunning. But I daren't try to retaliate or he will hurt me badly."

"Bring him here one night, I could swallow him whole." The monster snarled, its expression far too serious to be jesting.

"You'd get a stomachache!" Boots placed the snacks upon the ledge, "Have these instead. And don't worry, I'll be alright, I have lived with it long enough."

"Such a tyrant he shall make one day." The monster grumbled between bites of apple turnover, "I expect he will have me executed before a cheering crowd."

"I won't let that happen." Boots huffed.

"How so?" The monster demanded, and Boots handed it back a pastry it accidentally knocked off the ledge.

"I'll figure that out when the time comes." Boots shrugged.

"I would rather you slay me now than make me stay here for untold years." It said, voice so low that Boots felt the vibrations resounding off his own ribs, "You must free me, or kill me."

Boots stiffened, he had known it would all culminate in this request. He could gift the monster all the fine luxuries in the world, but the only thing it truly desired was to be free of its prison. He couldn't blame it, having been locked up in complete and utter solitude. And Boots did wish for its freedom as well, and pitied it greatly.

"Please." The monster scraped its beak against the stone, "Please."

"What if I am caught? I don't even know where the key is." Boots said, staring at the ground.

"The last I saw, it was in your fathers coat pocket." The monster whispered, "The one with stoat fur about the trim."

"Then I will have to sneak into his room at night. I cannot do such a thing, what if I am caught?" The very thought made his chest tight with dread.

The monster seemed to shrink, if that was possible, and sunk back into the shadows. Its face was unreadable as ever, but Boots could sense how its mood had darkened.

"Maybe I will try. But I'll have to be smart about it." Boots said urgently, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't let it down.

"I promise to be good once I am free." The monster rumbled, "I will go far away, and never again hurt another."

"I believe you, and I should very much like to see your misery end." Boots replied, "But I am a sort of coward. This is why my brother hates me after all."

"In all these long years, you are the only one who has come to talk with me. You are the only one who could do this thing, and how perfect you are for the task." The monster leaned in towards him once more, "You are a prince, and permitted within your family's wing. And you are as small and light as a feather, and as cunning as a fox. And your reputation will cloak you, they will blame some unknown saboteur, but never you."

Boots forced himself to laugh lightly, "Perhaps I should consider a career change, then."

"What does your heart long for, sparrow? What empty maw yawns inside you? What has your lofty station and the long arm of your father failed to deliver? Set me free and I will grant it unto you." The monster whispered, as if its words were a spell.

Boots didn't answer, couldn't answer, shouldn't answer. The pathway of his life was preordained, the tracks already set long ago. He was meant to live out his life within castle walls, or upon carriages or cobblestone roads, and never should he stray without reprimand, for he was the youngest and the weakest, the one that must be protected and swaddled and derided until his legs crumbled out beneath him for want of use.

"What could a monster provide me?" Boots sighed, wrapping his tail about his midsection.

"I am not just the lowly thing before you who dwells in the darkness. Once I may as well have been a king myself, with nothing in the land to rival me. Do you wish for gold? I can bleed mountains. Do you want a woman? I will bewitch the prettiest maiden with stories of your gallant nature. Do you seek fame? I can find you tomes from dead kingdoms beyond recall, or make you a magic flute with notes that ring clearer than a meltwater surge." The monster insisted, its chains scraping as it shifted with excitement.

"I don't wish for any of that." Boots said wistfully.

"Then what, little thing?" The monster's snout strained between the bars.

"I am not even sure. If I were to wish to be as strong and confident as my brothers then I would be wishing to no longer be myself. If only my father could look upon me with anything but disappointment I might then be satisfied." Boots rested his chin upon his crossed arms.

The long, twisted jaws split apart, lips wrinkling to bare teeth as sharp as needles, "That is beyond me."

Boots stood up and wiped the dust off his pants, "I will think upon your request, but I cannot promise you anything."

Despite the monster's limited ability to emote in the traditional sense, Boots could sense the mournful longing that nearly burst from it as it stared at him. It gnawed and scratched at the bars, then sank back down into the dark.

Boots ran headlong towards the monster's dungeon, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He fell to his knees before the iron bars and clutched at them, panting heavily, and his tail lashing wildly.

"Hello," He whimpered urgently, "Are you awake? Hello?"

At once heard the familiar jangling of the chains, the heavy body unfurling from its long rest and rising to his level. He felt a burst of hot breath wash over his face and flinched as a sharp beak poked him right on the nose, its massive fingers curling about the bars just shy of his own. Without thinking he grabbed the snout in his hands and hugged it to his chest, as if the caged creature could somehow protect him. The fur that grew from its lower jaw was rough and wiry, the ridges along its beak jagged and sharp, but to him it may as well have been the softest embrace.

"What is wrong, thrush?" The monster asked, and he could feel the rumble of its voice passing right into his flesh, melting him.

He tried to answer, but his voice crumbled into a sob, and he pressed his cheek against the monster's snout, the only comfort that could be afforded to him.

"I smell blood." The monster growled.

"My father," He gasped, "struck me."

It didn't reply to that, for nothing could be said of the matter. It was already done, the accusations long shouted, the disgrace already seared into him. Boots cried until his face was red and puffy, his body trembling like a newborn fawn, and he was able to slowly reign in the cadence of his breaths.

"They want to send me off to be married. I have never even seen them. Whatever shall I do?" Boots whispered, the pitch of his voice spiraling like a worm caught in a robin's beak.

"I like to eat my troubles." The monster said softly, its snout extended as far as the bars permitted. Boots could see the faint outline of the rest of its head, its hairy, arched ears and two horns that grew outwards from its narrow forehead. One was broken and shattered at the base, the other tall but withered and misshapen.

"What happened to your horn?" Boots asked, and with a shaky hand he reached out and touched the broken stump. It was knobbly and bony, like that of an antler that had grown wrong.

"I broke it upon a dragon's scales when I was young. You cannot pierce a dragon's hide, I learned, but whatever is put in their jaws they will swallow without hesitation. So I filled its belly with stones until it choked." The monster recounted.

"Clever." Boots sniffed and laid his arm upon the monster's skull, his fingers splayed as he petted the rough, wiry fur. He pressed his chest over its face, resting half of his weight upon it, the motion coming far too easily to him.

"There is no such victory to be had for me." Boots lamented, tears flooding his eyes once more.

"Then you must flee." The monster urged, "As I should have when I was poisoned. Not all cages are iron and stone."

"I'm sorry lonesome thing, I think you're my only friend in the world." Boots said, breathing deeply to try and master himself. The monster smelled musky and harsh, like the stuffed bears in his fathers hall, their snarls far fiercer than any they had sported in life. He also smelled the layers of dirt and dust upon the fur, the neglect of many years like a moth eaten sweater tucked under a bed, to be forgotten until it was unrecognizable.

"Come away with me." The monster purred, grasping Boots' hand between its own and utterly engulfing his, "Let us both be free."

"Perhaps I should." Boots shuddered, "But to leave my entire life behind?"

"I have a cottage in the woods far from here. There you might make music until your heart is full." The monster soothed, "There you will never be found, and I will protect you from all harms."

Boots curled his tail about himself, and was loath to think of the moment when he must detach himself from the warm thing in his grasp and return to his cold bed. He had not thought he had grown so fond of the creature, but the prospect of running away with it did not daunt him so much as he had expected. In fact his chest fluttered with tremulous excitement, but also fear and sharp anxiety.

"Tonight I will fetch the key." Boots whispered.

He woke to the cold stone beneath him, and then great beasts snout resting upon his chest. It nuzzled him gently, long snaggleteeth tugging at his shirt until he was roused.

"The moon is high, time to go." The monster crooned, nudging Boots even as he curled up and hugged the snout even tighter.

"Maybe I should wait until tomorrow night, I'm so tired." He groaned.

"You must go now, or you shall put it off forever." The beast spoke into his flesh, then poked him in the stomach with its beak.

"Alright, alright." Boots sighed and the monster used its jaws to help him to his feet, tugging the back of his shirt like a cat carrying her kitten.

"Be as quiet as a mouse and swift as a fox." The monster hissed, "Then I shall be in your debt forever."

"There are no debts." Boots patted the monster's nose then stepped back, his fingers lingering upon its curled and creased beak. It was a rather ugly thing, all sharp angles and wrinkles and teeth and ragged fur, but at the right angle it also had a strange magnificence about it, like an old proud lion with a face full of scars.

He made to leave before he lost his courage, and marched back into the keep. At such a late hour it was entirely empty and quiet, like seeing the world standing on its own head. He crept down the halls like a ghost, entered his own room to pack a small bundle of his own belongings, then headed for his parents room.

He trembled at the door, his entire body crackling with electricity, his hair standing on end, his tail twisted about his leg like a viper. He wanted to run away, to bury himself in his own bed and sleep this all away, then maybe never visit the monster again for his shame. But then he thought of it wasting away, its last hope failed, the bitterness of betrayal making its bondage all the worse. He couldn't fail it now, not after he had made a promise. And not when the spectre of an arranged marriage loomed before him. All that he was would be undone.

He held his breath as he twisted the doorknob, cringing at every slight creak of the metal hinges as he swung the door open. Then he padded inside on bare feet, feeling the warmth of their dying fireplace and their sleeping breath, and to his relief his father continued to snore fitfully, the ragged sound drowning out his own light murmurs.

It was so dark he could all but feel the shadows resisting him like a warm fog, and he walked blind with his hands outstretched, until he was able to navigate by touch. Their ornate dresser, the paintings on the wall, and then the tall metal hanger from which his fathers impressive coat hung. As he searched for the pocket the hanger scraped along the floor and he froze, his own heartbeat booming in his ears, his blood cold as ice, his body stiff as a statue. The snoring paused momentarily, and then resumed with great volume, until he heard his mother rouse and bid his father to roll over.

Boots was rooted to the spot for a great age as he waited for them to fall back into a deep sleep, not daring to budge an inch. His feet fell asleep and his arms ached, but he refused to move and risk being caught in such a terrible circumstance. Eventually he relaxed somewhat, sure that by now they were both asleep once more, and slowly lowered his hand into the inside pocket lined with silk.

The key was smaller than he had expected, silver and inconspicuous, and he suddenly doubted it could be the right one. He wasn't about to go about searching for another, though, and stuffed it into his own pocket before shuffling backwards, tiptoeing as lightly as he could. Then he finally exited the room, gently closed the door, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then he rushed back through the halls, flew down the stairs, dodged the sleepy guard, and ran through the courtyard and towards the edge of the castle walls where the monster kept its long vigil.

He realized now it might be the last time he would see these stone walls in some time. He was sure he would not be gone forever, only long enough to be sorely missed, for the betrothal to be abandoned, for his family to perhaps come to appreciate some quality of his in his absence. Though he could hardly count upon the latter.

Boots crouched before the iron bars, "I have done it, look!" He grinned and twirled the key about his finger, then caught it in his palm.

"Such a shadow, you are." The monster rumbled, and then its snout suddenly struck between the bars, snapping up the key so quickly Boots could not have dodged it.

"You'll take me with you, right? You promised." Boots called into the dark as he heard the mad thrashing of chains. His chest felt tight, his thoughts raced, and for the first time a gnawing doubt began to rear its head.

He ran again through the courtyard, taking the passage that led beneath the wall, then popped out the other side. Here the night wind was chill, and rats darted out from beneath his steps. He hurried towards the huge entrance to the cage, then skidded to a frightful halt. A sharp cry broke into the night, and was cut off prematurely.

The dark, hulking form of the monster held a guard beneath its foot. Though the man in chain mail and padding writhed and struggled, he couldn't hope to free himself from the great weight that crushed down on him. Boots thought the guard barked at him to run, or it was only the remainder of his breath being driven between his teeth before ribs crunched.

He was so shocked he couldn't speak nor move, though he should be crying aloud for the monster to stop, should retreat and sound the alarm. Instead he could only stare at the wicked thing before him, all vestiges of its gentleness and promises of absolution long gone.

From head to toe the monster was crowned with wiry, coarse fur, darkening about its belly and back. A long, three forked tail lashed to and fro, beset with rows of spikes that traveled their length, and then all the way up its broad back.

After ripping off its shackles and licking the patches of angry red flesh about its wrists, the monster leaned back and sighed, stretching its limbs and cracking old joint after joint. It seemed to marvel at the freedom of movement afforded to it, and shook itself gladly, sending up a cloud of dust and shed fur and fluttering moths.

Boots coughed, then shrank back as the monster whipped around and stalked forwards to loom over him. He recognized in it none of the sympathy and sorrow from before, and while it should be thankful, its eyes were alight with a cruel kind of glee. He could see now just how formidable this monster was, why it had been such a threat that a host of knights were risked to capture it. Though it was as tall as two men, its frame was filled out with solid muscles that rippled beneath its dark fur like a prowling wildcat. Its arms were as thick as tree trunks, its chest as wide as a barge, and each finger and toe was set with claws as long and sharp daggers.

"Come away with me now." The monster purred, its narrow head set upon a powerful, sinuous neck arching down to peer right at him. Its hands reached out and Boots suddenly came alive again, dashing behind a stone pillar to put some barrier between them.

"You killed him!" Boots cried and held his face in his hands. For all the waxing and moaning the monster had done for its own misdeeds, all the talk of regret and of bettering itself, it had wasted no time in shattering the facade.

"He sat fat and happy while I languished." The monster lashed its tail, the spikes scraping furrows in the stone flooring, "And if he could have, he should have slayed me, should have made me rot for a hundred more years." Its lips curled, baring its evil rows of sharp teeth.

"Liar." Boots wept, "You could have only held him down, could have locked him in behind you."

"He does not matter." The monster scowled, "Now come, we must be quick."

Boots fell to his knees, knowing he couldn't run from the monster should it seek to restrain him. The enormity of its betrayal shattered him. When the beast approached him once more he buried his face in his hands.

The beast snarled in frustration and spun around to stalk into the dark like a lonesome tiger. Boots watched as it disappeared, and felt such a sharp pain in his heart he had to feel himself to make sure he hadn't been wounded.

He heard screams arise into the night, alarm bells rang, their clamor making his head ache. Soon enough a squad of guards arrived to investigate the scene and tend to their fallen comrade. Boots fell into the rising crowd, becoming as nameless and inconspicuous as all the rest in his common night clothes. As soon as his father arrived he took his leave, and found himself running up to a battlement on the wall to peer down.

A fire had broken out in the city, and he could make out the small specks of people fleeing their homes and filtering through the streets, confused and panicked and terrified. Huge plumes of smoke billowed into the sky, and he wondered if he was breathing in charred bone and flesh with the smell of it. He felt like a dead thing himself, a corpse brought up to stand like a marionette.

#boots & hawthorn #-runs away very fast-#also thank you kind anon <3

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pacific-rimbaud · 8 months ago

Note

i'm curious how do you feel about dramione community now?

i'm a new writer, long time reader and can't help but feel like the fandom and the ship changed so much and i wonder if i even have a place in it anymore.

there's so much demand for the writers from the readers (constant update demands, no willingness to engage with wips) and at the same time i've been in a couple of dramione writer communities where other writers are openly pressuring each other to either start tiktok or finish the fic before posting it (the new dramione writers society discord server specifically).

particularly upset when i see people advising each other to commission art to promote their fic for writing.

it seems like that space for writers to be just writers becomes smaller and smaller and readers are not interested in the fandom but rather the next hot fic that's getting traction.

and all that combined with the overall hatred toward dramione as a ship outside of dramione.

I've genuinely stopped writing because of this. and i'm sad that i lost that one hobby that made me feel good, as it now seems like a popularity contest more than just fandom fun.

you seem like you're able to balance your love for writing with the changed landscape of the fandom. at least from the outside posts :D

DHr grew exponentially in the short time I spent in the ship, and that growth will only accelerate as big name fandom writers continue to enter traditional publishing with seven-figure book and film deals.

Life is change. Change is death. It's okay to grieve what's gone and won't come back.

And I want to add: keep writing. No matter what. But that would be hypocritical. I haven't written in a year, and remain deeply uncertain about whether or not I'll take it up again. It's a real puzzle.

The relevant questions seem to be: why do I want to write? And: what spaces feel nurturing to me as a writer?

The first one's easy. I write because I like the films I see in my head. I like the way language sounds. I like to experience the past, and to be swept away by intense emotions. It's like having a Holodeck in my head. And sometimes, when everything clicks, I get to describe my little bespoke scenarios in words that make a nice sound when they rub up against one another.

I'm waiting on a good answer to the second question. All I know is that art, criticism and commerce have always been an incredibly awkward ménage à trois. No shade to folks seeking to work the fandom algorithm and secure the bag (posting already completed work on a schedule, writing popular tropes and characterizations, and using original art in social media marketing are all great ways to do that). Whether money changes hands or merely attention (which can be converted into money), that's commerce having its turn at the wheel.

I'm suspicious that my creative brain is commerce-repulsed. Maybe yours is, too. So it goes.

I'm certain that we shouldn't let that keep us off the Holodeck.

So. Make a deal with me. I promise to run some freaky little scenarios in the simulator this summer if you'll do the same. Then let's meet in the limestone cave and paint our blorbos by candlelight. Let's tell them around the campfire. Come draw them with me in the sand.

#you asked I answered

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maul-of-shame · 12 days ago

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You know you don't have to shove your disgusting elrondriel down people's throats right?

You know you don’t have to shove your whining and bitchy moaning into my inbox, right?

Like, was there a council meeting I missed where you were assigned as the fandom’s self-righteous taste police? Because if so, babe, I'm pretty sure the Fellowship didn’t vote you in.

I ship what I ship. You don’t like it? That’s a you problem, not a me problem. You could’ve scrolled, blocked, or gone outside to touch some grass, but instead, you chose pathetic bitchy whining in my inbox. Big brain move, truly.

The circus called, they want their clown back.🤡

And listen, I don’t know what your takes or ships are, but dude—DUDE—if you’re going to crumble into a puddle of salt over fictional characters and who people decide to pair them with in their own space, you might need to take a long, hard look at your priorities in life. Like, genuinely—are you okay?

Is this the hill you’ve chosen to die on? Out of all the injustices in the world, all the things you could be channeling your clearly overflowing energy into, you picked this? Really?

You’re here, furiously typing up your righteous little manifesto against my Elrondriel ship content, as if your dislike somehow validates barging into someone’s creative space like an uninvited party guest with terrible vibes. You know what would’ve been a better use of your time? Literally anything else. Picking up a book. Learning a hobby. Googling "how to mind my own business". Or—and this is just a suggestion—working on improving that personality of yours.

Because let’s be real, the way you’re carrying on here? It’s not giving "I have a valid point". It’s giving "I’m pressed because someone on the internet is having fun differently than me."

No one is forcing you to look at this content. No one dragged you into my space with a sword to your neck, shouting, "READ THE ELRONDRIEL POST!" You’re here because you chose to click, you chose to engage, and now you’re big mad because my fictional pairings don’t align with whatever pedestal you’ve put yourself on. Babe, that’s a you problem. The rest of us are here vibing, sipping tea, and enjoying our ships, while you’re out here acting like a one-person fandom inquisition.

So maybe the next time you feel the urge to go on a moral crusade over fandom ships, pause for a moment and ask yourself, "Does this make me look clever, or just pressed?" Because right now? You’re not Gandalf riding into battle with wisdom and gravitas. You’re Gollum, bitterly clutching onto your opinion as if it’s the One Ring, and nobody here is impressed.

If fictional pairings genuinely upset you this much, I’m begging you—step away from the keyboard, take a deep breath, and find something that sparks joy

Also, I’m truly not sure who appointed you the Mouth of Sauron for Fandom Canon Purity™ (if so, please go see your local dentist), but I don’t recall asking for your opinion, your sanctimonious tantrum, or whatever sad little hill you think you’re dying on?

You’re not Aragorn leading a noble charge. You’re that one orc who gets yeeted off Helm’s Deep for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So, take your whining, your unsolicited opinions, and that big ol’ chip on your shoulder, and go find somewhere else to be miserable.

Bye Felicia 👋✨

#the rings of power #elrondriel #trop #elrond peredhel #rings of power #trop season 2 #galadriel #Dudeeeeeee #I am NOT in the mood for that X'D

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schizopositivity · 4 months ago

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Hey, could I ask what coping skills you use to help with hallucinations and such?

I’m not diagnosed with anything yet so I’m not on any meds. And my coping skills aren’t very good.

I usually just use music and try to ignore things to the best of my ability. That helps with a lot of the more usual auditory hallucinations. Walls and floors moving are…hard. But I typically just reach out to feel them (and hope I’m not having tactile hallucinations too and don’t feel that move)

But things like feeling bugs on my skin. Or hearing disturbing things (screaming, loud extremely negative internal voices / intrusive thoughts, etc) I don’t really know how to deal with? And I was wondering you’d have any tips? The internet isn’t very helpful and I was wondering if someone else who experiences this stuff too might have some better suggestions!

Thanks!

My biggest coping skills are distracting myself from the hallucinations, and trying to ease my emotional reactions to them.

Music is great, but it can't really drown out the auditory hallucinations. In my experience listening to a YouTube video, watching a show/movie, listening to an audiobook or talking to someone is more helpful. These things require my attention, and for me to think about what I'm hearing, that way I'm not focusing on or thinking about the hallucinations.

I am a fan of the "putting your hands on the walls to feel that they are actually steady" trick. I've talked about it a long time ago on this blog, since I have experienced moving walls and floors a lot. I think it also is a very grounding experience. If you are hallucinating it can be very helpful to use a fidget toy or something else that is pleasing to touch (dry rice, sand, rocks, soft blankets, etc). It shifts your focus to something that is real, that you can feel and be comforted by.

For the other, maybe more distressing hallucinations, it can be very helpful to distract yourself. Consciously shifting your focus away from the hallucinations and onto something you enjoy. This can be a hobby like drawing or crocheting. Or something relaxing like watching your favorite TV show, or going on a walk. This won't actually stop the hallucinations themselves, but it will keep you engaged with something else, which can help you ignore the hallucinations.

In my experience, spending a lot of time focusing on and thinking about the hallucinations can make things worse (as in feel more severe, not change the amount of hallucinations). Luckily I have spent years coping with the hallucinations, to the point where now I can experience them and immediately move on, which is way less stressful for me. And that was a skill I learned after a lot of practice, and I'm glad I did. It won't be easy at first, but I do believe that it is possible to eventually ignore hallucinations to the point that they are just mildly annoying.

Also since you aren't getting treatment for the root of the issue (the hallucinations), the best thing you can do is try and treat your emotional reaction to them at home. This can be any self care activity that works for you. This will be personalized to you but it can be things like cuddling your pet, taking a bath, reading a book, applying makeup, baking your favorite sweets, making a cup of tea, calling a friend, etc. If you want more ideas you can turn to the internet but look for "self care ideas" or "ways to destress at home". Because hallucinations can be very distressing, and it's important to care for yourself during and after the experience. These things can overlap with the distraction techniques, either way it's getting your mind off of the hallucinations and onto things you enjoy.

I hope you find a way to make the hallucinations more manageable, and take care of yourself. Your comfort is the most important thing when it comes to hallucinations. It is always worth it to invest your time into self care and relaxation.

#answered #hallucinations #coping techniques #mental illness #neurodivergent #nd #psychosis #mental health awareness #pseriouslypsychotic

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accio-victuuri · 1 year ago

Text

how many cpns can you get from a 7 second douyin by wyb? 💚💚💚

The Douyin King is back! I know i’m not the only one who missed his random ass douyin posts. They are very much welcome, he is free to share one everyday. I’m cackling at the comparison going around between WYB and other people. So, the rest of the celebrities and influencers are posting on a regular basis per month and have different topics.

photos at work, travel photos, interests/hobbies. this line represents the whole year. there is another diagram that shows how many per line, like 1-2 or more. then you have wang yibo 😂😂😂

line 1 : I'm busy at work and have no time. // line 2: I don’t have time to skateboard, ride a motorcycle or play golf // line 3: Visit my gege’s camping site and the volcano scenery is very good and has a lot of material// line 4: happy and don’t have much time// line 5: Shoot whoever is lucky enough to shoot!

then all the lines after is when he will post — shows that he will share a lot towards the end of the year to keep up with KPI. lol. he is rushing his homework again, to the point that on the video, people are searching what wyb’s kpi mean. which is the engagement metrics he needs to reach and now he gotta work on it, even the fans know and expect it.

the memes are also hilarious! 😂😂😂 ( cat memes below ) basically him working on making his “cool” posts to the internet.

Honestly, never change yibo. We love you as you are, Our Gremlin Best Actor. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

That was a long intro, now let’s move on to the sweets & CPN…..

• @rainbowsky already talked about the messenger bird CPN & how it might be for ZZ’s Hennessy endorsement.

• similarity in how sometimes, they just wanna post an emoji for caption. this one is a cute parallel from 2021 and 2023. If you wanna further clown with WYB using kadian 13 for yizhan then go ahead too 😌

• it is being compared to him referencing his shoes before, picking up his shoes ( xie zi ) (xz) ; and now it’s another homophonic clue ( jm ) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

yes we know that you get to meet more often now cause you are both in Beijing! It’s so cool how their language can be used for so many things and you can play with it to send different meanings. international fans could never 💀💀💀💀

• talking about picking up and meeting, cpfs remembered ZZ’s 11/17/21 douyin post. It’s the one with him and a light saber and a sexy transformation. Going by his clothes, I’m thinking it was what he wore during the DC tencent conference and at the time of posting it was already considered as leftover. but I could be wrong, cause he might have worn other leather jackets that year for ads.

anyway, the point is — please compare the background of the rooms. the walls. you know. add the floor too. 👀

look, this isn’t the most unique type of interior. i would say it’s pretty basic like how we clown about hotel curtains. i’m guessing yibo’s is an evisu shoot sometime ago ( cause his hair is not that fluffy anymore idk if his stylist did something to make it like that even with his recent cut ). this place may be a studio of sorts that can be rented out and they just happen to have filmed there.

or… or…..

this could be XZS office. or one of their rented office. Why? this CPN is similar to the one in 2020. How we speculated that the birthday shoot was done in XZS office so ZZ could supervise the direction of the shoot too.

we also love to talk about how xzs and ybo office are right next to each other ( it’s a fact xzs is close to yuehua building actually ) so maybe that can be an explanation too 😂😂😂 it’s not uncommon for an office to have a separate space to do regular photoshoots so maybe theirs have that. or this could have been done after and wyb dropped off their office and took this.

hahahahahaha! so many explanations all because of a wall. that’s the kind of life we turtles have 🙃

Personally, i’m hoping for a 24 hour relay between them. 🙏🏼

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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emilykaldwen · 1 year ago

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*pinches the bridge of my nose*

Okay kids, sit down. I think things in the fandom space needs a little clarification.

Fan Artists and Fan Fiction writers are frustrated and upset about how the reblog rate has plummeted over the years as the rest of the internet moved to a 'hit the heart to help the algorithm'. Tumblr doesn't work that way. Likes don't do anything for a post, it just locks it in your personal scrapbook.

You Do Not Have to Reblog things YOU do not want to

When people say 'reblog the post' they mean reblog instead of ONLY hitting the like button. Tumblr relies on reblogs to put things on your dash. If you're liking something, then it hits your interests, and you should be reblogging it.

HOWEVER YOU ARE NEVER OBLIGATED TO REBLOG ALL THE THINGS.

Most people, including myself, will reblog from friends because we're friends! I support your foray into a fandom space I have no understanding of, but odds are if you are into it, then some of my other mutuals may be into it so I'll reblog. But I'm not out here reblogging every post I see from people I don't know in fandom spaces I'm not familiar with. It's my blog. I curate what I'd like. Some people have a dozen sideblogs for every fandom niche interest. Some of us just have the one blog and you strap in for whatever fandom chaos we go on. If you tag me in something, I occasionally miss it because I get the notification on my phone but don't have the free moment to do it and forget. Or maybe I add it into my queue.

When you are creating something you need to be mindful of your audience.

I'm in my mid 30s. I do not play in the Disney space (I know Disney Descendents is popular? That came out waaaaay after my time I don't know what it is), I don't know what that girl with the ghost band thing is that was going around a few years ago. I have fellow adult friends who do not engage with fan creation that involves minors. Additionally, I've seen people create OCs for shows like Criminal Minds. Hey! more power to you, I've never watched the show, and I know there's fic out there (I had someone tell me about a what I think was a Harry Potter/Criminal Minds crossover??? wow), but it's not going to get the same kind of traction as say, a Teen Wolf fan work.

I'm not saying don't create for your niche interests! CREATE! BE FREE AND MERRY! but understand that those creations just won't get the same kind of traction because it's a niche interest.

We create for ourselves, we share to find other people who enjoy our hobbies.

Which brings me to my second point:

NO ONE IS KNOCKING ON YOUR BEDROOM DOOR TO MAKE FRIENDS

Making friends is hard! I totally get it. But a sure fire way to turn people off way fast is to start a conversation with me but make it abundantly clear you care about nothing that I say/offer and are just waiting for your turn to talk so you can tell me about YOUR things and expect ME to ask questions. Conversation is a two way street. It's a back and forth. It is not me sitting there like a parent patiently listening to my child tell me about the cool toy adventure they're doing. I'm not your parent. I'm not your captive audience. I'm another person, and if you want friends - MEANINGFUL friends - then you need to make an effort to engage with people.

And it's hard. It's hard because so many people out there are very navel-gazey, and people get so caught up in the excitement of their own creations that they forget to ask other people about theirs. And... you're gonna have to be okay with that. You're gonna have to be okay with it feeling like pulling teeth, and know that hey! you're never gonna be buddy buddies with everyone. You just keep being you, you just keep showing the kind of person you are, and eventually it'll happen.

It's taken me over a decade to form meaningful mature friendships online. I've had friends over the years, ofc, but it's only now, when I can approach something with clear expectations and not thinking everyone is off having fun without me in some little clique, that I've been able to connect with people more honestly. And taking a five year break from tumblr helped a lot with that. I bought a house, I got a new job, I did other meaningful things with my life that wasn't on the internet.

The internet isn't actually a popularity place. You do not have to be popular to exist. I have been on tumblr since the inception pretty much. I have 200 followers and I only interact with 10 of them, maybe 15. And I'll tell you that outta those 200, 90% of them are blogs that haven't updated in years. A follower count does not promise reblogs, does not promise friends. It's literally impossible to be best buddies with 2000 people, to have a meaningful connection with every. single. one.

anyway I'm tired. I'm too old for this shit. Go touch some grass, go get off tumblr and play a new video game, join a book club, read more books, do things that aren't perpetually refreshing your dash and thinking everyone is off having fun without you because I promise you it's not fucking true. You need to have a life offline. You need a hobby that doesn't involve the computer. Seriously. Go touch grass.

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homelanderbutbig · 1 year ago

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To Care About Someone (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1426 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

The first time Homelander took you flying.

Since you've become friends with Homelander, you have spent many an hour up in his penthouse talking with him. Not about anything important, just regular everyday work-related chitchat. As he doesn't really have any other acquaintances to talk to, you figure he welcomes the distraction from his gruelling schedule. And you also like to have company at work; nobody else in your department will even entertain the idea of small talk.

Normally, you and Homelander meet in his penthouse at the same time each afternoon for your little conversations. For whatever reason, today he's requested you come up after your shift has ended in the evening.

Once your work day is finished, you make your way up to his penthouse. You step out of the elevator and walk into his living room, finding him already seated on the couch.

"Glad to see you made it," he remarks, showing off his canines as he beams down at you. You return the smile while climbing onto his oversized couch, taking your seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about, Homelander?" you ask, sitting as professionally as you can. It's quite a contrast from Homelander, whose body language is very relaxed while his rests one of his legs on his coffee table.

"I just wanted to get to know you a bit better, ask you about yourself," he answers nonchalantly, propping one of his arms on the back of the couch. "That's what friends do, right?"

You can't help but giggle at his awkward attempt at participating in normal human behaviour. You think it's cute, but it's just because you believe he's never really had friends before.

In reality, this after-work engagement with you is something Homelander has been planning for the past few days. Not once in his entire life has he ever organically made a friend before, especially one that isn't afraid of him like you. He has been researching books and analyzing many films on how to solidify his friendship with you. Generally, your meetings together center around work matters. You have never talked to him about your past or personal interests, and he never thought to ask.

You answer all of Homelander's questions honestly, about your goals, your hobbies, and your life before moving to New York. All of your average human experiences that are so alien to him. The entire time, he is entirely enthralled by your stories, quietly listening to your every word. Not once does he interrupt you, or take his eyes off you. This is the complete opposite of every other talk you've had with him. Usually, he is the one leading the discussions, which tend to revolve around him and his problems. Right now he's studying you like he's preparing for a test.

After some time, you happen to look over at the penthouse window. When you first sat down, the sky outside was a dull blue; now it's pitch black.

"Oh jeez, how late is it?" you wonder, taking a look at the time on your phone. You are shocked to see you've been talking to Homelander for quite a few hours longer than you normally do. "Shoot, I missed my bus," you note, sliding off the couch. "I'll have to catch a taxi home."

"Nonsense," he interjects, waving his hand at your silly human conundrum. "I can fly you home."

"Oh, um," you mutter. "It's fine, Homelander, thanks. Really, I can just hail a cab."

"It's the least I can do," he remarks, tilting his head at your hesitance about his proposition. "A taxi at this time of night? Please, I can get you home in a minute flat."

He watches as you stand in front of the couch, frozen in place. The sound of your quickening heartbeat is confusing to him. This isn't just something he would offer to any other mudperson; you should be honoured at his proposal.

"I, um…" you mumble, looking down at the floor. You know Homelander can sense your fear, so there's no point in lying to him. "I'm… afraid of heights."

"You know I'm not going to drop you, right?" he tries to reassure you, standing up off the couch and to his full height. He tucks his hands behind his back, taking on his go-to 'nurturing leader' stance.

"It doesn't make it any less scary," you reflect, looking up at him as he saunters over in front of you.

"I'll hold onto you tight and fly slow," he tells you, putting one of his big hands on your shoulder. "It's not a problem, I'll keep you safe. Trust me."

"…Okay," you finally acquiesce, sighing when you realize he is not going to let this go. This is a perfect opportunity for him to prove what a good friend he can be, whether you like it or not.

Slowly, Homelander lowers himself down and picks you up, carefully keeping you secured in his massive arms, up against his padded chest. He holds you like you are a small child, shielding your vision from the outside world with one hand covering the back of your head.

Walking over to his balcony launch pad, he bends his knees and propels himself into the night sky. While his cruising speed is closer to 1800 kilometers an hour, he consciously keeps himself at a far slower pace for your comfort.

Despite his best efforts, he can still observe your immense terror. Even with the noise of the city and the wind blowing strongly, the sounds of your rapid breathing and accelerated pulse pounds loudly in his ears. Glancing down at you, he sees that your eyes are glued shut, not risking even the slightest chance of seeing the city far below you.

Usually Homelander couldn't be bothered about the welfare of those he's flying. However, your own anxiety is seeping into him. He grips onto you a bit tighter, not to ensure your safety, but to calm himself down. He's never felt this way about another person, this desire to prove himself to you without any expectations in return. Is this what it feels like to care about someone?

Luckily, as he promised, he arrives at your home after a minute of flight. He gradually descends to the ground, touching down as lightly as he can. Gently, he releases you from his arms and keeps a hand on your back while you regain your bearings.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks, shooting you a soft smile.

"Uh… no, I guess," you eventually utter after catching your breath. Fortunately, right now the entire experience is just a blur in your mind. "Thank you Homelander, I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, it's what I do," he proclaims, puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. Although he is doing his best to give you a display of suave posturing, you can see a different story playing out in his eyes. The little hints of genuine happiness from your thanks, how grateful he is to prove his commitment of friendship to you. You aren't like everyone else he has to deal with; this really means a lot to him.

"Well, it is late. I'd better get inside and go to sleep," you tell him. "But I promise I will visit first thing in the morning, okay?"

"I'll be waiting," he responds, giving you a salute as he watches you enter your home and wave him goodbye.

He launches himself at full speed into the air, the force of which is audible to you even inside your home. But he doesn't fly back to the Tower right away.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander hovers in the night sky, using his X-ray vision to watch you move around inside your home. He doesn't understand why, but he there is a small part of him that wants to make sure you get into your bed, to see you wrap yourself in your blankets and fall asleep. He wants to know that you're safe.

And even when he does zoom back to his penthouse, that small part of him is still thinking about you. The way that, in spite of your fears, you trusted him with your life to fly you home. He wonders if this is what it's like to have a friend. He wonders if you will have another late night conversation with him. He wonders if you trust him enough to let him fly you home again.

And most of all, he wonders if you're dreaming about him like he is about you.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing

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