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fiction-box · 2 years ago

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Hello hello I see requests are open 👀 I loved your "only one bed" fic w Ashe so I'm here to ask for more lol

May I get a fem or gn reader tutoring Felix and Sylvain (you can just choose one if you're not feeling inspired) in magic? If I remember correctly both of them have a budding talent in reason magic so maybe the professor saw that and assigned reader to help cultivate that talent??

Idk how much detail you like in your requests so feel free to ignore the rest of this!! But if you want more specifics maybe reader has always been a little nervous around the nobles in the BL house since they're a commoner?? And even though they have every confidence in their abilities they're not very assertive so Byleth wanted reader to learn how to take charge in a situation and actually tell people what to do lol

Thank you in advance!! :D

This is one of the reasons I value requests so much. There are so many ideas you guys come up with that I want to discover!

I took these two stories in two very different directions, but I think they both stay true to the prompt in their own way. The different sways of each story are heavily influenced on how I think one would have to interact with each character to achieve the specifics we're looking for.

In this case, I was inspired to write Sylvain's story with more edges and harsh moments, though Felix's was created with a much softer arc in mind.

Enjoy! Requests are open to all. Send in as many as you wish!

The stories will be continued under the cut.

Sylvain:

“N-No! No. Please wait!”

For what must have been the third time this session, you adjusted the position of Sylvain’s hands so that his fingers were curled inwards.

“Remember? If you don’t curl your fingers in, you aren’t directing the magic properly. That could cause the fire to spread sideways rather than forward, and then you’d be putting everyone around you in danger.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “My bad.”

You were quite certain he did remember, but you didn’t say anything about it. It was a trivial matter, really. Curling his fingers yourself every once in a while was nothing compared to what you knew he could do to you if you got even slightly too pushy with him.

“That’s alright, just…try to keep it in mind as we go through the motions, okay?”

Taking a step back, you sighed and relaxed your body a bit. You were going to make sure the only thing he lit on fire would be the target across from him. Burning down the training grounds was not an appealing idea to you.

“So, different people pull their magic from different places within them, yes? For example, Mercedes feels her magic from somewhere closer to her heart, while Annette describes her pull as somewhere within her head. Personally, I feel my own resonate within my palms.”

He nodded. Good. You were getting somewhere.

“I can’t just tell you where to pull yours from, though. What I can say is that once we find your source, the rest is easy. While we could do some research or studying to make a more educated presumption, I’ve found that the fastest method is just to guess and check.”

Sylvain stretched out his arms and hands, “Sure. Walk me through it then, professor~.”

You were just about to until he returned his hands to the wrong position. Again.

No, you were not going to sigh. You were not going to show any signs of impatience, you were simply going to breathe normally, approach him calmly, and gently reposition his hands.

And as much as the little nickname irked you, you wouldn’t say anything about that, either.

What was the scale of a commoner’s displeasure at a nickname when compared to that of the power of a noble? One with a crest, no less. He didn’t need to learn magic in order to ruin your life. Or order your death.

He certainly didn’t need to know you were intimidated by him, lest he get any ideas.

“You’re pointed at the target right now. I’ve adjusted your form so that it’s perfect. The only thing left is for you to pull the magic from your body and feel it spread into your fingertips.”

“Got it,'' he winked, then turned his eyes back to the target.

There. You were almost done. The only thing that was left was for him to find the magic. After all, you were confident in your ability to show him how to use it.

“...”

“It’s fine, don’t worry!” you reassured him frantically. Goddess knows what he might do if he thought this was your fault. “It can take a bit of time, just make sure you’re focusing on tracing it to your- NO, WAIT-!”

You rushed to his side when you noticed he had wrecked his form and yet was still trying. This time, a small flame did come out of his hands. However, thanks to his uncontrolled form, it began to widen to his sides.

“Woah. Uh, what do I do now?” he asked. A sliver of panic had slipped its way into his tone.

“Just aim at the target and imagine it shooting forward. Do it quickly; it’s too late to control the fire at this point, so we need to let it go before it-”

You let out a squeak of surprise as you watched it shoot across the room to the target. The widened flame hit it, but the fire didn’t truly catch onto the target. Though you were certain it would have missed if his form was actually correct, it had become clear what the professor had meant when she mentioned he had a “budding talent” in the art.

When you were originally assigned to work on magic with Sylvain, you had voiced your concerns to Professor Byleth.

“You want me to teach? And a noble, of all people? One that you claim has talent, yet has never even accessed his magic before?”

“Good,” she smiled, “so you heard me.”

“I…please, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about teaching, or…or giving orders…or…”

“That’s why you’ll be teaching one of your classmates. It will benefit us all for you to find your backbone.”

“Well then, what about Ashe? I’ll teach Ashe, or I’ll even teach Dedue, but…it isn’t really my place to teach a noble. Besides, I have a family, and if anything happens-”

“Okay,” the mercenary laughed, “now you’re definitely not getting out of this. It looks like you can learn quite a few lessons from such an experience, after all.”

“But-”

“Sylvain will be waiting for you at the training grounds. I expect you to arrive on time. I will check on you periodically.”

Well, so much for that, you thought to yourself. You hadn’t seen so much as the color of Professor Byleth’s hair since this whole thing began.

As you finished the task you had originally approached Sylvain to complete, you began to wonder how curling his fingers of all things would be the most challenging part of this lesson. He was clearly listening to you when you spoke, so the issue must be in your directions, right? Maybe you really weren’t cut out for this whole “giving-orders” thing, even though you thought you had been doing a good job, so far.

“Hey,” Sylvain began. “Why haven’t you said anything to me?”

You paused, “What do you mean? I’ve been talking you through the process this whole time.” Honestly, now you weren't sure if he was listening. Maybe he was the spacey type.

Sylvain quirked an eyebrow, “Every time I fail to go back into position, you just stop and move my fingers manually. I must have done it at least four times by now, and most girls would have told me to knock it off at this point.”

“I don’t…” four was an understatement. But did he really not realize the reason for your hesitation? “...know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do. There’s this look in your eye every time you notice it. You have a lot more patience than I do, that’s for sure. Your tone of voice stays neutral or positive, and each time you maneuver my hands, you don’t move them any rougher than you did the time before it. But even with all of those behaviors combined, you manage to give it away through your eyes.”

What.

He’s been able to notice all of those…traits…of your behavior over the past two hours you’ve been working to teach him, but he still can’t do any better than a spread flame of-?

There’s no way.

“So you’re saying you know how to use the proper positioning?”

“Pssh. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I got it the first time.” the red-headed noble teased, “But all those extra times you spent showing me really helped-”

“Do it, then.”

His brows knit lightly, “What?”

You pointed at the target he had only technically hit during his last shot, “Get into your form. Aim at the target. And light it on fire.”

Sylvain was too stunned to speak. Instead, he did as you said, turning to face the target and firing a small fireball at the center. Sure enough, it caught fire. Right on the mark.

His smug demeanor returned, “So, how did I do? Don’t you think I should get some form of a reward for all my hard work today?”

You slowly exhale, closing your eyes and calming your heartbeat. Then, you fire your own flame spell at the target. The hay is half ember and half ash when you turn to leave.

“We’re done. I’m done.”

“Woah,” Sylvain’s eyes went wide as he stared into the remains of the fire. Quickly recovering from his shock, he turned back to you, “You oka-?”

“Two hours of my life!” you snap, spinning on your heel to face him. “Gone! Wasted!”

“Hey, now, don’t get too upset. After all, I know a few women that would be jealous of someone getting to spend that much one-on-one time with me,” his signature smirk returns, and all you can think of is how much you’d like to burn the look off his face. “Why don’t we go out and get some tea together? Would that make you feel better?”

“Two hours! And now you want even more time?”

You actually wanted to cry, now, but there was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction.

“I was supposed to spend my time with Mercedes and Annette, this afternoon! I would’ve had tea with them! Then we would’ve studied for our certification exams, and…I didn’t need this! And you certainly didn’t need this much time from me.”

Sylvain actually looked a little hurt at that, and before you could truly process everything you had just done, you heard three small raps at the entrance of the training grounds.

“That’s quite enough, you two. Sylvain, please head back to my classroom and wait for me there. We’re going to be having a little chat about training etiquette, but not before I speak with your classmate.”

His regretful expression left almost as quickly as it came when he turned to face Professor Byleth with a wink, “Right. Don’t keep me waiting, Professor!”

She glared at him, and you were immediately glad her look wasn’t directed at you.

“Don’t tempt me. Maybe I won’t show up for two hours. Whatever keeps me entertained, right?”

The Gautier noble lost his smirk as your own mouth formed a thin line to keep from smiling. You weren’t sorry for him in the slightest; especially not after he treated you like a plaything for the better part of an afternoon.

“And no detours!” she barked as he left.

You stepped forward, “Professor…I don’t-”

“I disagree.”

You blinked twice, “What?”

“With what you said earlier,” she smiled, “about not needing this. I disagree.”

The tension in your shoulders dropped in defeat, “What are you talking about, professor? I must have completed what you told me to at least an hour ago, but I wasn’t even competent enough to pick up on it. There was absolutely no reason for me to stay any longer than that, and especially not with someone as depreciative of my company as-”

But it didn’t feel like she was listening to you. Her smile was just growing, and all you could do was trail off and watch as your professor turned and headed for the door.

“You’ve grown more than you realize. You were finally able to assert yourself today.”

You shuddered a little, “I’m still worried about what I said to him.”

With her hand on the door, Professor Byleth faced you one last time, “Don’t be. Now you know as well as I do. Those nobles think they can do whatever they want, so it’s an important lesson for us to learn.” She nodded once, “It’s okay to stand up for yourself, my student. Someone needs to keep them in check.”

The doors of the grounds shut behind her with a thud.

She was right, you knew. You felt more sure of yourself, just as she had asked you to become. Not only that, but now that you knew people like Sylvain were qualified to be nobles, you weren’t as scared to talk to them.

But now you had a new fear. One day, Fodlan’s future would rest in the hands of nobles like these.

If messing around was the best they could do, they definitely had their work cut out for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix:

“It’s not working.”

“Don’t worry, th-that’s alright! This is only your first day, after all. I think you’re doing well.”

Felix huffed, “Doing well isn’t going to save my life when I can’t cut through someone’s armor. Stop flattering me and actually do something to help.”

“R-right! Of course!” you stumbled. You allowed your eyes to scan Felix’s body, evaluating his form and making a mental checklist. He was able to create the magic just fine, but the Faerghus noble was completely lost when it came to firing it.

“Well, your stance is great, and you can summon the magic easily enough. B-but I don’t have enough information to properly identify a problem area-”

“Then show me again,” he ordered as Professor Byleth entered the training grounds. She was carrying a handful of spears that she must have just bought.

“That’s enough, Felix. You're the one listening, here. Let your friend do her job.”

He balked at that. “She is not my friend. Neither of us are here by choice, in case you’re having trouble recalling the context of the situation you put us in!”

Your teacher began swapping out the new lances in her arms for the broken and rusted ones discarded around the training grounds. “Well, complaining about it isn’t going to get you anywhere. Just be nice and listen, and I’m sure this will be over before you know it.”

The swordsman turned to you, clenching his teeth, “Please. Show me how you performed the spell. Again.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Ah-ah. No,” you turned to Professor Byleth as she looked you in the eyes, “You’re the professor. You’re the one giving the orders. Felix isn’t teaching you how to teach. You’re teaching him magic.”

“Ah, right,” you stood a little taller, “In that case…Felix, I’m going to demonstrate how to cast the Thunder spell once more.”

Your posture faltered at the resounding sigh from across the room. “I’m going off to the shop to repair these weapons. I expect this…dynamic…to be fixed when I return.”

As you watched your professor leave, the noble next to you cleared his throat. Back to work.

“Okay, I-I can go slow. And I’ll talk you through it!”

You got into your original stance, going over each component from your feet to your fingers. Felix reproduced your efforts methodically.

Next, you informed him of the process of garnering magic from your internal source. As the Thunder gathered in your hands, it did the same in his. It was just as bright as yours, which had always come as a surprise.

You didn’t dwell on it too long as you came to the part of the system you knew you’d spend the most time on. You tried to describe it as best you could; tracing an imaginary line between your fingers and your target before letting it go. And while yours went, the lightning magic between Felix’s hands began to grow in size and glow ever brighter.

“Tch. Not again.”

“Hold on, I’ll get it!” you reassured him, running across the room to grab one of the logs you were using as targets. Returning to him, you placed the wood in his hands as it took the brunt of the power from his spell. However, the rest of it went into you.

“Agh-! Th…that’s-” you hug your arms to your chest, attempting to cradle them against one another lightly, “that’s definitely what a Thunder spell with double the power would feel like.”

While Felix didn’t outright ask if you were alright, you felt his eyes scanning over your arms. But as long as you were the one taking the hit and not him, he couldn’t get any more upset with you, right? A commoner teaching magic to a noble. While you didn’t doubt that you could, you were not exactly confident that you should. However, it wasn’t up to you. Professor Byleth called the shots.

Shots that you needed to be giving right now, you remembered.

“Forgive me! I need to focus.”

Felix opened his mouth as if in protest, but you spoke again before he could get any sound out, “So, tell me exactly what you’re thinking when you try to fire off the spell.”

He furrowed his brow, “Just like you said. I draw that invisible line in my mind, I run my arms along it, and I think of letting go. Releasing.”

“Hmm. I think that might be our issue.”

“You think?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly the best at teaching compared to just doing, in case you couldn’t already tell.”

Only after the words were out of your mouth did you realize what you just said.

“Oh no- I’m so sorry! Look, I…I’ll figure this out for you, you’ll execute it, and then we won’t have to do this again.”

“Calm down. You’re allowed to be frustrated, too,” he scoffed. “I haven’t exactly been a model student.”

“Right…a-anyway, try going through the routine once more, but instead of thinking about releasing, think of pushing. That way you’re using both mental and physical force.”

So you watched as Felix did just that. He got into his stance, gathered the magic into his hands, pushed his arms forward, and furrowed his brow.

But the lighting grew ever brighter, the supply of logs grew ever smaller, and your arms grew ever more sore.

“W-why-” you asked, cradling your arms together once more. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked elsewhere, fighting the pain. “I don’t get it.”

“Come on!” Felix shouted at himself. With your head turned away from him, however, you had presumed your so-called “student’s” anger was directed at you.

Consequently, you flinched away from him.

From outside of your view, Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He softened his tone a bit, “Woah…Hey, are you alright?”

“Please,” you pleaded, turning to fully face him. “I’m doing my best. I just…if you could just give me a bit more time to wor-”

“I’m not mad at you, and I’m definitely not about…to hurt…you…” he began to trail off.

He was staring at your arms. Once you followed his gaze, you could see why. With a gasp, you held them straight out in front of you.

The flesh of your arms was burned.

It went in a pattern that made it look like something had lashed at you. The last log you used must not have been as effective as you had hoped it would be. Your knees dropped out in shock.

Felix burst toward you. Catching your torso, he lightly lowered you to the ground.

Dread cloaked your thoughts like a shadow as your breathing became more shallow and stuttered. You couldn’t cast healing magic over yourself. Moving your arms at all was a special kind of torture, but performance of the spell you needed couldn’t be achieved without more range of motion.

“Teach me how to heal you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were still too petrified to register what he had said.

“What?”

“Look, maybe I can’t fire off lightning, but we can both clearly see from your arms that the spell worked. If you can teach me how to heal, even if I can’t send it into you, you can still make use of the spell on yourself by placing your arms where you used to put the logs.”

It sounded like a reasonable enough plan. It was the best thing you had at the moment, anyway. You didn’t think you could move about to get help in this state, and you didn’t like the idea of being left alone in the training grounds, either.

So you walked him through it. Kneeling together on the floor, you told him to change his fingers into a cupped form. He was instructed to send the power through his wrists rather than his fingertips to get it to form. Then, with his hands glowing green and hovering over your arms, you directed him to give the magic directly to your afflicted areas.

Both of you were stunned when Felix was able to send the healing magic to you on his first try. You didn’t need to move into it, it just flowed from his wrists into your arms.

Your head gave an involuntary bow as you felt the magic wash over you. It was like a light breeze on a hot day. More like a cool salve on a burn, you supposed.

“Thank you,” you breathed, head still lowered. Your breaths continued, slow and deep as you closed your eyes.

It got you thinking, though. How was it that Felix could fire his healing magic effectively, but not the Thunder spell you had both been working on? It was the same principle, though you think you conveniently forgot to instruct him on it, this time.

Your eyes opened lightly as you felt the flow of magic dissipate from your body. Felix must have stopped, then.

As you tried to lift your head back up, your vision spotted and dizziness set in. You supposed you had never truly been injured that badly before. Sure, the attacks you had taken throughout the time of one battle all added together might total quite a bit of agony, but Mercedes was always around to heal you at intervals whenever you suffered anything noticeable.

“...ngh..”

“Easy,” Felix stated, moving his hands to balance your shoulders, “you’ll get up when you’re ready. Nothing good will come from you pushing yourself right now.”

Focusing on your breathing, you put your head back down and placed your palms in front of you for balance.

“What were you thinking…" you took another deep breath, steadying yourself. "When you sent the healing spell, what was the thought permeating your mind?”

His hold on your shoulders tightened subtly, “I was just thinking that I wanted you to take it.”

“There, then,” you affirmed as your voice returned to you in full. “That’s going to be what you need to do in order to fire your spells. Your objective will be to get the recipient to take the spell from you.”

Trying to lift your head up once more, you succeeded. You let your eyes blink a few times, then turned to the noble kneeling next to you.

“So, go do it. One more try,” you nodded. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll be done.”

His lips pressed against each other, and his eyes hardened. You could tell he was less than interested.

“I promise I have learned from my mistakes. You’ve already found the solution, Felix. You performed it just now. The only thing that’s left is to use the proper spell.”

“Got it,” he stood, moving into position a few feet away from his target. Before he gets into his form, though, he looks to you.

“If it backfires-”

“It won’t.”

He clenched his teeth, “It might not, but I’m telling you that if it does, you’re not grabbing that log. I’ll find a way to take care of it myself, understood?”

You laughed, “Don’t worry, I couldn’t stand if I tried.”

“I mean it.”

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

That seemed to be the answer he was looking for. The swordsman turned back to the target, took his stance, and you observed as the lightning formed in his hands.

You watched him shove the spell forward, and just as you predicted, the lightning flew from his hand into the center of the target.

“Just like that!” you smiled warmly, eyes fixed on where the projectile had struck.

Right on cue, the doors to the training grounds flew open, unceremoniously announcing the return of Professor Byleth. The first thing her gaze landed on was the scorched target across from Felix.

“Wonderful jo-” as she turned to address the two of you, however, her eyes caught on your own position.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“...”

“Uh…Felix knows healing magic, now…?”

After a quick interrogation to ensure neither of you deliberately hurt one another just so he might practice his powers in faith, the mercenary escorted both of you to see Professor Manuela.

Fortunately, she didn’t spot any remaining injuries on either of you. This led your own professor to become quite pleased with your performances, and she insisted that this become a more permanent arrangement.

You were originally concerned about how much time you would have to spend teaching until Professor Byleth began a weekly rotation system between the two of you.

Though you can’t say you were ever fond of the sword, you were definitely not expecting to ever become so experienced with one in such a short period of time. Now that you and Felix could both effectively use magic and metal interchangeably, the two of you possessed extreme versatility on the battlefield.

The Blue Lions were now more than ever a force to be reckoned with, and it was safe to say that the House overall was far from displeased.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fe x reader #fiction #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #x reader #felix x reader #sylvain gautier #sylvain x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #felix #sylvain #fe3h felix #fe3h sylvain #fe3h felix x reader #fe3h x reader #three houses #byleth eisner

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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years ago

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Hii, could you write how the moonboys would react to a reader having an ED? I've been having a really hard time recently. If you're uncomfortable then I totally understand <33

Dear anon: I'm sorry I don't know what to say to you, so I hope the headcanon help a little. Lots of hugs <3

Marc Spector:

He's used to take mental notes of everthing, and of course some small issues about you cannot passed unseen. Yet, he's not sure how to ask you gently if you're okay, he doesn't want to feel like a nosy.

But obviously you'r not as fine as you should, and he must take the lead. "(Y/N), did you eat this morning?"

Oh you'd wish to simply nod and pass the topic, but those piercing eyes won't let you go until he's completely sure you're sincere.

Maybe you try to act defensive, but Marc knows how to deal with that.

You end up feeling embarrased 'cause he found out. "Look, I know I'm less than perfect -" "Don't say that" "But it's true!" "I don't want you to be perfect, I want you to be happy and safe"

Perhaps Marc isn't the best caretaker, but you can be sure he'll do his best, being around you and helping you to get a healthy food habit.

Jake Lockley:

We can think of him as a "street sibarite", enjoying everything around simple, slightly dangerous life. And since his hobbies are music and food, he's always up to take you to eat street food or to any other nice, not well-known place.

That was when he noticed you struggled with eating. "Don't you like it, corazón?" "Oh, no, it's delicious! I just... hmm... ate earlier and I'm still a little full"

Yes, he can pass it once, maybe twice, but the third time you show symptoms of your ED he's direct: "You're sick, aren't you? I mean... with that" (pointing at your barely touched dish)

Won't try to attack the problem directly, but does his best to make you happy in different manners. He can be very romantic and intense in his love languages, and it includes, of course, food.

Though they're not his favorites, he cooks or buys healthy meals for you, and sits to eat along with you to be sure you actually eat. And everytime you manage to make your three meals, he rewards you with something you like. Yes, it's not the best idea, but Jake loves making you feel good and happy.

Steven Grant:

Sweet boi never misses details. He quickly finds out something's not very well with you, but since he can't tell exactly where the problem is, he rather uses subtle approaching.

Like, you go on a date and he invites you for a lunch. Now, since he's a vegan he doesn't eat too many junk food, and asks you about your favorites to "compensate" for going with him to his places. "No I don't eat that" "Really? Oh well, I was thinking of caramel apples but that's okay-"

He can be very open about his own issues (like the sleeping problems and stuff) now he has more confidence around you. Also, this is a good techique to allow you to speak anytime you need to.

But if you still are quiet about the elephant in the room, he'll do his best to bring it on. "Uh, love, I don't want to sound like a creep or somethin' but... I have noticed you don't look comfy when we eat, is it the food choice or...?"

He'll hold your hand and listen to you. He'll be very kind and protective and won't say anything against you. "Hey, it's fine, it's not your fault... If you want to, I'm here and I'll help you. I mean, I'm not the best for that but... we can get some help for you, and I'll be there for you too"

Actually keeps his promise and search for a good therapist. He goes with you, and is very discrete with the topic, even putting himself in the eye of the hurricane (like saying it's you who takes him to therapy).

Sometimes you may feel you're going backwards, a very common thing while dealing with certain issues. You feel bad for Steven 'cause he's been supporting you and don't want to make him dissapointed. He's not. He never will. He'll be there in your ups and downs, and he'll always tell how proud is for you. "Accepting it is the hardest thing, love, and you did it very well"

#moon knight series #moon knight headcanon #moon boys #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley headcanon #steven grant headcanon #marc spector headcanon #tw: eating problems #oscar isaac #marvel series

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maaarine · 3 years ago

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Brain fog: how trauma, uncertainty and isolation have affected our minds and memory (Moya Sarner, The Guardian, April 14 2021)

“What we call brain fog, Catherine Loveday, professor of cognitive neuroscience at the University of Westminster, calls poor “cognitive function”.

That covers “everything from our memory, our attention and our ability to problem-solve to our capacity to be creative. Essentially, it’s thinking.”

And recently, she’s heard a lot of complaints about it: “Because I’m a memory scientist, so many people are telling me their memory is really poor, and reporting this cognitive fog,” she says. (…)

There is no one explanation, no single source, Simons says: “There are bound to be a lot of different factors that are coming together, interacting with each other, to cause these memory impairments, attentional deficits and other processing difficulties.”

One powerful factor could be the fact that everything is so samey.

Loveday explains that the brain is stimulated by the new, the different, and this is known as the orienting response:

“From the minute we’re born – in fact, from before we’re born – when there is a new stimulus, a baby will turn its head towards it.

And if as adults we are watching a boring lecture and someone walks into the room, it will stir our brain back into action.”

Most of us are likely to feel that nobody new has walked into our room for quite some time, which might help to explain this sluggish feeling neurologically:

“We have effectively evolved to stop paying attention when nothing changes, but to pay particular attention when things do change,” she says.

Loveday suggests that if we can attend a work meeting by phone while walking in a park, we might find we are more awake and better able to concentrate, thanks to the changing scenery and the exercise; she is recording some lectures as podcasts, rather than videos, so students can walk while listening.

She also suggests spending time in different rooms at home – or if you only have one room, try “changing what the room looks like.

I’m not saying redecorate – but you could change the pictures on the walls or move things around for variety, even in the smallest space.” (…)

“It’s a common experience, but it’s very complex,” he says. “I think it is the cognitive equivalent of feeling emotionally distressed; it’s almost the way the brain expresses sadness, beyond the emotion.”

He takes a psycho-neuro-immuno-endocrinological approach to the phenomenon – which is even more fascinating than it is difficult to say.

He believes we need to think about the mind, the brain, the immune and the hormonal systems to understand the various mental and physical processes that might underlie this lockdown haze, which he sees as a consequence of stress.

We might all agree that the uncertainty of the last year has been quite stressful – more so for some than for others.

When our mind appraises a situation as stressful, Pariante explains, our brain immediately transmits the message to our immune and endocrine systems. (…)

For Cohen, the phenomenon of brain fog is an experience of one of the most disturbing aspects of the unconscious.

He talks of Freud’s theory of drives – the idea that we have one force inside us that propels us towards life; another that pulls us towards death.

The life drive, Cohen explains, impels us to create, make connections with others, seek “the expansion of life”.

The death drive, by contrast, urges “a kind of contraction. It’s a move away from life and into a kind of stasis or entropy”.

Lockdown – which, paradoxically, has done so much to preserve life – is like the death drive made lifestyle.

With brain fog, he says, we are seeing “an atrophy of liveliness. People are finding themselves to be more sluggish, that their physical and mental weight is somehow heavier, it’s hard to carry around – to drag.”

Freud has a word for this: trägheit – translated as a “sluggishness”, but which Cohen says literally translates as “draggyness”.

We could understand brain fog as an encounter with our death drive – with the part of us which, in Cohen’s words, is “going in the opposite direction of awareness and sparkiness, and in the direction of inanimacy and shutting down”.”

#article #health #coronavirus

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x-reader-writer · 3 years ago

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Hii can I request for Peter parker x male reader.

The reader is taller than him, dominant and has piercings, and peter comes out to the avengers as bi and tells them that he has a boyfriend. They're sceptical first but then they see peter sitting on readers lap and them being affectionate and sweet and laughing at jokes they make.

If this contains anything that makes you uncomfortable pls ignore this.

Thank uuu.

A/N: Hi!! Of course you can. I don't do nsfw posts, but I can make the reader seem more confident to fill that gap!

Sorry it's taken so long!! I hope this is alright!

I'm coming out

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male! Reader

~~~~~

"Baby, it's gonna be okay."

"But what if it's not! What if they yell, or they hate me, or Mr. Stark wants to never see me again, or-"

You quickly grab your boyfriend's hands to stop him from talking. "Babe, none of that will happen," you say calmly, with a gentle tone. "Do you know why? It's because they're decent people who adore you, Pete, just like I do."

"You think so?" Peter asks nervously, blushing from the compliment from his partner.

"I know so," you reply, a gentle smile gracing your face.

~~~~~

Peter was stood in the elevator, his foot anxiously tapping on the slightly metallic flooring. He lets out a long, deep breath, trying to control his anxiety.

The doors then open, on the penthouse of the Avengers Tower (formerly Stark Tower). Peter steps out and looks around the common room.

All of the Avengers were sat on the sofas and little chairs, lounging around and watching a Disney movie. Peter was amused slightly as he saw that Bucky was sat on Sam's lap as a joke (Peter could tell he just wanted to sit there-).

Peter then quietly clears his throat. It wasn't the best idea, as the movie was playing quite loudly, so nobody could hear him. He takes a deep breath and then loudly cough.

Everyone in the room jumps, even causing Tony to make his popcorn go flying. Everyone looks over at the teen, who nervously rubs his arm.

"Oh hey, Pete," Tony says, picking up a handful of his popcorn that had landed on his lap. "What're you doing here? It's not Friday yet."

"Sorry about scaring you all," Peter says quickly. He then replies to his mentor saying, "Yeah, sorry about coming earlier than expected Mr. Stark, but I wanted to talk to you. To you all."

"What is it, son?" Steve asks, smiling gently at the teen (no, Peter isn't actually his son, Steve's just old). Peter stays looking awkward and nervous, so he encourages, "It's okay, we're here for whatever it is, Peter."

"I'm bisexual," Peter blurts out. The room goes silent. He then quietly mumbles, "And I have a boyfriend."

Peter grips at his arm tightly waiting for some type of reaction, the silence dragging on.

"No," is the first thing said after minutes of silence. Unsurprisingly, it was Steve who had said this. Peter had kind of expected him and Bucky to react slightly badly towards this as they were from a different time period where they didn't accept gay people.

Peter then feels hope as he sees Tony going to say something. However it is shattered when the words 'I'm sorry Pete, but bisexuality isn't a thing' come out of his mentors mouth.

"What?" Peter whimpers, taking a step back in surprise and hurt.

"Tony, that's a bit harsh," Natasha says, glaring at the man. She then looks at Peter with a straight face and states, "However, that doesn't mean that you are Bisexual. You're just confused and need to find the right girl for you."

Peter shakes his head and turns back around to leave the penthouse, ignoring the calls from the avengers, especially the shouts and demands to come back and to stop being stupid.

~~~~~

Peter was sat in your lap, crying into your shoulder. You were gently shushing him and smoothing his hair, whispering in his ear it was okay.

"I'm really sorry, Petey, I pushed you into this-"

"It's not your fault," Peter replies, sniffling as he wiped his nose.

"And it's not yours either," you reply, gently poking his chest to prove your point. "They were wrong to say that and do that to you, I'm glad I was here waiting for you so you could come to me. Otherwise, I don't know what would have happened."

Peter nods and sniffles, wiping his nose with his hand. You chuckle softly and grab a tissue from your pocket (what? Peter cried a lot, you liked to be prepared!) and hand it to him with a smile. He smiles back at you and blows his nose.

"Better, Dumbo?" You ask, teasing him with the name.

Peter giggles and says, "Better, n/n."

You grin and then say, "uh oh, I see someone coming.." Peter looks at you confused, but you simply raise your hands slowly. Peter pales slightly before squealing and trying to get away from you as you start tickling his sides. He laughs and giggles, kicking and squirming on your lap. "Tickle monster!"

After a few minutes, Peter's sad tears had turned into tears of laughter. So you stopped and smirked at him as he was still laughing and blushing from the tickle 'fight'.

You lean down and kiss his nose, which makes him blush gently. then you start kissing all over his face, making him a blushing mess.

"Ksh, mission complete boys, ksh," you state, pretending you had a Walkie talkie, making Peter giggle at you and move up to cuddle up to you. You grin and gently smooth his back.

"And who are you?" A male voice says, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere between the two.

You look up and glare at the group who had approached you. The Avengers. The ones who hurt your boyfriend.

"What do you want?"

"We heard from security there was a random guy sat here, so we came to see who you were, and then we saw you touching up Peter," Clint says, glaring at you.

"Excuse me?" You state, shocked at what he had said, as you had hardly even touched your boyfriend, only holding his head and hugging him.

"Who. Are. You?" Bucky says, getting angry.

"I'm Y/n L/n, aka, Peter's boyfriend," you growl. You then hold Peter gently as you pull him closer, feeling extra protective over him as everyone starts yelling their complaints and how much they disagreed.

"What on Midgard is going on here?" You hear a booming voice call out.

Both you and Peter look over first. You see that the owner of the voice was Thor Odinson, next to him was stood a very pissed looking Loki.

"I think we both know what is happening here, brother," Loki replies, a muscle in their forehead spasming, almost comically. You would have found it amusing if not for the situation at hand.

Tony replies to Thor's question, ignoring Loki had said anything, "Peter is apparently 'Bisexual' and this random guy is his 'boyfriend'. I'm thinking he's a hydra agents and has brainwashed-"

"Enough!" Thor yells, glaring at Tony and the group. "How dare you make rude comments about these poor boys! Bisexuality is a common thing among Asgardians, Loki himself is one! Bisexuality is common amongst many things, even the animals on your own planet are bisexual, gay or any of the other LGBTQ community! You should not slander such a group, especially as they are such a huge quantity of the population, and not only of this planet or your species!"

The room was silent, even you included.

Loki walks over to Peter and gently pat's his head, their face soft and a gentle smile was placed upon their lips. "You are the Peter child, yes?" The brunette nods at the god, who smiles more in return. "Here is a little secret of my own that I've been keeping from everyone, that I shall share. It will mean that I'm joining you in, as Midgardians say, 'coming out'."

Loki then turns to the group and says, "I have something to say too. I, myself, am genderfluid. And I identify as a female today."

The room is silent again.

"I have a sister!" Thor says excitedly, picking Loki up and twirling her around. Loki smiles, happy Thor had accepted her.

"Woah, that's so cool, Ms. Loki!" Peter squeals, smiling brightly. "Oh wait, do you still want to be called that?"

"Yes, Loki is perfectly fine, child" she replies, smiling back.

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sophierequests · 2 years ago

Note

🌟 yayayayayay! okayokay i have too many ideas rn but like, maybe something with David (shocker, wow :0) with the song "your text" by sundial?

ALSO IVE SAID IT BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN, CONGRATS!

hey pretty stranger

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: David Kostyk x gn! Reader

A/N: FIRST EVENT REQUEST AS ALWAYS!!! THANK YOU AGAIN LOVE AHHH <333 I never fully listened to this song before writing this, but it immediately gave me sm David energy!!

Summary: After meeting a pretty stranger at a party, they notice that they have more in common than they might've imagined.

Genre: Songfic, Fluff

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: mention of alcohol for a second

"Who's that?" you whispered to the red-haired girl next to you, while another pair of Inferni performed a fire show on the stage in the middle of the room.

Genya gave you a questioning look as she followed your glance. Her eyes landed on a thin black-haired man, wearing a purple kefta, who stood in the far back of the crowd. You had noticed the way his eyes drifted over to you every so often, but once yours met his, he looked away quickly, opting out to anxiously fiddle with his collar as if he was getting choked by it. At first, you had thought that he had been staring at Genya - and you wouldn't have blamed him - but it had become painfully obvious that his gaze was trained on you.

"That Fabrikator over there?" she asked, a sheepish smirk on her lips, "That's David Kostyk. I'm surprised that he even showed up, he's not the kind of person to go to parties like this. However, neither are you and I managed to drag you out here."

You didn't even need to take a closer look at him to realize that she was right. He looked incredibly uncomfortable with the situation he was in. And even though he stood as close to the wall as he possibly could, he still didn't seem at ease.

The man, who you now knew was called David, looked over at you again. You had to admit that he was quite good-looking, even with his unassuming exterior, slightly messy hair and the awkward stance he was keeping up.

"He’s been staring at me for a while now.” you noted, causing your friend to give you a sly grin.

“Has he now? Well, we should help him get a closer look at you, shouldn’t we?”

With that, she hooked her arm through yours, effectively dragging you through the crowd to the other side of the room.

“David!” she beamed, startling the shy Fabrikator, as he apparently didn’t expect her to approach him.

“Genya, it’s good to see you.” he shot her a small smile before he peeked at you.

“I was quite surprised to see you, but it’s so nice that you’re here.” she began, removing her arm from yours, nudging you forward a bit to get you closer to him, “David, this is Y/N. I don’t think you’ve met before.”

“Hi.” he breathed out, one of his hands travelling over his arm.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” you smiled back, not quite knowing where this was supposed to go.

“I’ll let you both mingle for a bit, I think that I remember Tolya telling me about Zoya needing some help. Have fun!” Genya said, giving you a quick wink before disappearing into the masses again.

Both of you stared at the other dumbfounded and a bit overwhelmed by the sudden confrontation.

“I like your kefta.” he tried, obviously slightly inexperienced in starting a proper conversation, “Even my celebratory kefta looks a bit worn out, but yours suits you. It looks… cute.”

You felt your cheeks flush at that last comment. There were many other Grisha wearing exactly the same outfit, but he thought you looked good enough to bring it up.

So, even though there still was an inherent awkwardness to your chat, you continued to talk. The topics switched between personal stuff, your Small Sciences or, much to your surprise, the melting points of different metals.

“How come I have never seen you around? You seem to be quite well acquainted with Genya and the others, so I would assume that you’d occasionally come around?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m not really the type to go out that much. I’d rather spend time in the workshops. Working with metal is way easier than working with people.” he sighed.

“I understand. Without Genya’s constant berating, I wouldn’t have even considered going here. Right now, I could already be in bed, or do literally anything else.” you chuckled.

“Looks like we have another thing in common.” he returned your smile, his cheeks faintly flushed - whether it was because of the champagne or the conversation, you couldn’t tell.

“Do you want to leave?” you inquired suddenly.

“I’d love to, but I don’t think that it wo-”

“Nobody will notice that we’re gone. It’s way too busy for that.”

“Let’s go then.” he agreed, taking one last cautious look around before trailing after you.

Once you were in the hallways, he took over and led the way to his workshop, eager to show you some of his newest experiments after you had expressed an interest in his craft earlier.

Inside the cluttered crafting space, he was happy to explain everything you wanted to know. Apparently, there weren’t many people that would listen to him ramble on about his interest, even though he was so enthusiastic to talk about it. You enjoyed talking to the introverted Grisha. He wasn’t as obnoxious and loud as some of the other people you knew, and you liked that about him.

Sitting in his workspace, whilst watching him work or listening to each other’s voices became a habit for the both of you. At the end of almost every day, you would sneak into the room with two plates of dinner in your hands, ready to talk about your day. You also began writing each other little notes, whenever you didn’t get to spend time together.

“Hey pretty stranger, don’t skip dinner again!

We’ll see each other tomorrow, don’t you dare to hide from me ;)” you would scribble on a note, putting it next to the plate you put inside of his bedroom.

Of course, he knew that it was from you. You didn’t try to hide it.

His notes were a bit shorter but still managed to rile up the oncoming butterflies in your stomach, whenever you read his cute notes.

“You looked cute today.”

“Your smile is very pretty.”

And many more little papers found their way into your room or pockets, whenever you were with David. At this point, you couldn’t even be sure whether his feelings towards you were platonic or not, since some of his notes suggested otherwise. However, you weren’t going to pry.

During another evening in the workshop, this question might’ve answered itself.

You were lounging in one of the rather comfortable office chairs across from David’s workbench, where he silently worked out a few different sketches for one of his new inventions. It wasn’t the rhythmic scratching of his pen on paper that caught your attention, it was the times when it stopped for longer than you would’ve expected. Whenever you averted your eyes from the book you were reading, his ones were already trained on you, staring at you, as if he was trying to build up the courage to do or say something.

“Why are you staring at me, David?” you smiled, giving him a playful wink.

“I’m not staring.” he stammered quickly, his gaze trying to latch onto something different than you.

“I saw you stare at me, don’t try to deny it!”

He let out a huff, leaning back in his chair, and carefully stroking the skin on his neck,

“I’d like to ask you something.” he started, “Would you like to go out with me next week? Saturday maybe?”

The question caught you off-guard, but you still felt a strange bubbly feeling rise up in your chest.

“What?” was the only thing you could muster - much to your dismay.

“I think I like you.” he stated, looking into your eyes again, as you were trying to collect the right words.

“And I hope you do too.” is what he added, barely audible, but you still heard it.

“I think I do too.”

#sophiessongficevent #songfic #shadow and bone #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #grishaverse headcanons #shadow and bone headcanon #david kostyk imagine #david kostyk headcanon #david kostyk x reader #david kostyk

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husbandohunter · 3 years ago

Text

Dear Father [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Wherever you are wherever you may be, even if you are beyond my reach, I only wish to see you again. -from a letter lost in the wind.

(A story where you and Diluc somehow managed to meet Crepus)

Genre: all fluff

"I know how late I am to father's day but here's my father's day take on Genshin Impact! Just let Diluc be happy for once T_T Mihoyo pls."

============================

Discovering Master Crepus' old belongings was like wandering in a domain surrounded by ancient artifacts. Each piece holding the memory of someone you've never met.

The paintings. Master Crepus loved to paint. Typically birds were the main muse of this portraits since they deeply embodied Mondstadt's values for freedom which shows you how much he cherished this city just like his son did. In almost every hallway you walked through there was a collection of his paintings, some belonged to another artist but the majority was an original work. Diluc didn't have the heart to sell them.

Elzer. He was one of the oldest workers who served under the Ragnvindr name, ever since Master Crepus had appointed him during his earlier days. You were told that he treated everyone, both staff and noble, with equal respect. Almost all the denizens of Mondstadt knew this man for he was not only noble in riches but also in the soul.

"I'm sure he would have loved to meet you in person. Now that I think about it, you and Master Crepus are quite similar. Haha, it seems that Master Diluc was selective in terms of who he wanted for his future bride."

Elzer adds with a light chuckle but the statement only made you more curious. A man who affected the lives of so many others, he must have been a wonderful person.

Diluc. The bloodline Master Crepus left behind after his death, a piece of himself and the heir to the whole wine industry, his son Diluc. Although you could see the resemblance in appearance, both of them were men of prinicples and values, putting Mondstadt first before anything else and you suddenly realized if that was the reason why Diluc was so protective of this city. As if, it were everything he had? You could tell he loved Master Crepus very much, not because he said so, rather the painful expression buried deep within his crimson glare whenever someone brought up the topic. Diluc was skilled in hiding himself, it's something he practiced over the years of working alone, though he lowered his guard as long as you were the only one present.

Even so, he had many conflicts still wringing him internally and you didn't want to push him until the day he felt ready to personally tell you himself.

But it would be nice if he opened up, just a little bit.

There were times when you would worry since Diluc had the tendency to hide his feelings for the sake of not troubling you. He wanted to keep life simple and bright, bringing the best to the table while making sure that you lived safely out of harm's way. You couldn't seem to get him to understand that as lovers, you would be happy to help him, in anything. Unconditionally. It was natural for you to feel the need to force yourself in every once in a while and there was nothing more you wanted to know than the story of the man who raised him.

You would even jest on the idea of what it fel like to meet Master Crepus in person. Were you able to reach his standards by any chance? Would he have liked you just as everyone claimed? Of course, they were only silly indulgent thoughts so you quickly dismissed them in the end. Bringing back the past was impossible no matter how badly you wanted it. You closed your heart on that possibility.

On a lovely evening, while you and Diluc were taking your time off Angel's Share to make a stroll around Mondstadt's quiet streets, a strange merchant called over to you. She displayed various antiques ranging from different sizes to designs, none of them seemed to haven been carved in the same place but distinct cultures throughout Teyvat. The only thing they had in common was that they were all equally beautiful to the eye.

However a particular item of what looks like to be a heart locket snatches your attention and you instantly became mesmerized, allured by it's mysterious charm.

"Ah, the locked heart caught your fancy, my lady? It's said once you open it, you will be set free."

"It's magnificent..." you muttered, staring unabashed at the shining surface.

Diluc who was observing from behind folded his arms and tilts his head, "How much is that?"

Although you intended to simply inspect the choices, your lover immediately offers to pay. They all already gave the impression of a hefty price and you didn't want him to spend his fortune on things that deemed unecessary. Still, this wasn't the first time it happened. Diluc would always insist whenever you protested against him from buying anything, it was just a way of expressing his affections towards you. Mora was never a problem and you were priceless. That's how he sees things. You had to remind yourself to be careful when stumbling upon a bustling area full of salesmen next time.

"Five hundred thousand mora."

He purchased it without hesitation.

On your way home, Diluc noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't tear your gaze from the locket as if it had hypnotized you by the golden smooth surface. He had to ensure you didn't run into anyone by accident, tugging your arm closer so that it gave him an opportunity to lead you where you yourself could not. Surely it must have been the appearance but instead of being drawn by, you were drawn in. Completely.

I wonder...what will happen if I open it?

"(Y/n)?" Diluc narrows his eyebrows together. Did you like it that much? No, he knew you weren't the type to be so etranced by jewelry, this was certainly different. Even the merchant seemed a little suspicious when she approached you and Diluc couldn't ignore the heavy sense of aminosity that was emitted around her aura. He couldn't think within her presence but now that his mind was much clearer, he was able to use his skillful judgements.

"Wait...! Don't open it yet-"

However, he was too late.

The wind picks up at an alarming speed and you both brought up your arms to block the debris that had flown in the way. They swirled in non-stop motion until your worlds were engulfed with not even the sky in sight. Amidst the turmoil Diluc latchest onto you and holds your body close his chest as he was determined to protect against any force that dared to hurt you. Something heavy knocks his head and he winces, tighting his hold even further. Your voice could hardly be heard with all the noise that rung around and eventually you discovered the the world wasn't disappearing. You both were.

The last thought you had was the image of Master Crepus and you didn't know why.

---

"Diluc? Diluc?"

He faintly heard his name through a series of echoes. Diluc fights to regaind concousness, feeling your grip upon his shoulder while trying to urge him awake.

"Diluc are you alright?"

Your worried face was the first thing he sees other than the fog that looms above. Diluc blinks a few times in an attempt to ease his migraine, using one arm to force his body into a seating position as he allowed himself to be supported by you at the same time.

"Does your head hurt?" You ask, palming gently against his forehead to feel the heat. Even if her was usually very warm, there was no unusual rise in tempurature, something must have hit him instead, "Here, maybe this will help."

Bringing out your hand you concentrated on generating the water through your fingertips. Having a hydro vision meant you were capable of healing magic which Diluc appreciated since he often came home late at night with injuries hidden behind his sleeves. But nothing came out and he became even more suspicious of the situation.

"Eh? What's going on?" You blurted out, patting down your clothes and your pockets, "My Vision, it's gone too!"

"Mine as well," Diluc flexes his fingers to test his own element, "It seems that our powers were sealed once we entered this domain."

"A domain that prevents you from using a Vision? That doesn't sound very comforting," you scratched your head, suddenly remembering the cause of your current problem, "The locket...it's all starting to make sense now. Ugh, I should have listened to you earlier, I'm sorry Diluc."

"No (Y/n), you don't have to apologize," he interjects and you returned a curious glance, "I should have stopped you the minute I discovered there was something strange. I was too careless."

"You felt that too? I thought I was the only one," your tone and face mimics one of surprise. The fog continues to dance around, enclosing the two of you to the small area. You lifted your head and looked above in deep contemplation, "When I saw the locket I couldn't tear my eyes off of it, like something was pulling me in. Like...there was a spell casted on it."

"What do you mean?" he asked in an inquisitive manner.

You nod, "I can't put my finger on it bit Ifel that the locket wanted me to..." balling your fist upon your lap, you stared intensely at the floor as if drilling holes into them while digging into the depths of your mind for any specific clues. Initially you thought the locket was so captivating that you were simply charmed by it's craftmanship. But tere was more than that, you began deciphering, there was also a need for fulfillment. A yearning desire, "to know. The locket was calling me to know."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

"To know..." you trailed off. How strange. No matter how much you tried to rationalize, you were always brought back to the same square as if the locket knew exactly what you wanted. What you were lacking. Because the one thing you wanted to know most about was the person you've never met, "Someone very important to you."

The fog dispersed.

Diluc instinctively puts an arm in front of you defensively as he scanned his quick and thorough eyes around the area. It didn't take long for him to know exactly where everything was. In fact, the abrupt change isn't what puts him on high alert, but it was how familiar everything looked to the point he evaluates if there was any reason to be skeptical or if he should be breathtaken.

"What a beautiful house," However you didn't recognize it. Diluc knew because he had yet to meet you during the time he lived in this estate, "I wonder who does it belong to?"

"Father's old mansion...how?" Diluc breatlessly mutters, as if seeing the supremecy of Celestia for the first time. When years passed after his father died, he chose to sell off the majority of his belongings, the mansion being on for example. Currently it was in the possession of a well-known business associate that used to be a friend of Crepus. The mansion would likely have looked much different due to the renovations it gone through but Diluc remembers the picture as if this were yesterday. Everything was in tact. The vine yard, the gazebo where they drank tea, the hill that he and Kaeya used to race on when they were kids-

Revelation burns in his pupils as his eyes expanded.

"Welcome home, my son."

Both you and Diluc fall wordless at the sight that appeared like a miracle's blessing. Crepus stands at a distance, the graceful smile complimenting his warm features. He looked exactly how the court artists portrayed him in the Ragnvindr's family picture. Sharp face with gentle eyes and an aura that was as pleasant as what Elzer described.

"So this is why the locket was calling to us," you whispered, "I guess the mora really was worth it after all."

"...Fa...ther...."

You snuck a glance at Diluc. From behind the resemblance was as clear as dawn, like you were staring at a carbon copy of Master Crepus himself. Almost. He was a less hardened version of Diluc during uncommon situations. It made you think just how much you didn't know before his father passed away. What kind of person was this man during his days as a knight? You never had the chance to know.

"Father is that really you?" Diluc couldn't help his voice from trembling, paralyzed in place when he could hardly make sense of what stands in front of him. The person he longed to hear from, the person who left the world too quick, Diluc was afraid to get his hopes up in case his father suddenly disappeared and everything was just an illusion conjured by his mind. He was already used to being betrayed and dealt with disappointment too often. Which is why he learned to trust only himself. But, right now, can he really trust himself?

Feeling your hand gently on his shoulders, Diluc was brought back to reality. You smiled with warm reassurance that bled into your voice, "It's okay Diluc. Go, I'm here for you."

There was the faintest light shining in his eyes as emotions swell in his chest. Ever since you came Diluc never had to feel alone anymore, truly, you were the light that was brought back into his eyes, to his life when he gave up the thought of seeing it again. If he couldn't trust himself then at the very least, he could trust you.

"Thank you," he embraces you wholly like you were everything, and you were, before letting go and taking off to the otherside.

The air hits him in a rush and knocks the ones out of his lungs, "Father!" Diluc yells with tearful eyes. For the first time in a long while he was finally letting his feelings run free, "Father!" A name that felt foreign upon words that is pushes him forward, wanting to claim the truth that was smiling from afar.

"Father!"

Crepus lifted his arms and openly catches Diluc when he crashed into him. Here. He was here. He certainly was.

"Haha its been a while hasn't it my son?" He begins, encasing Diluc in a hug like he did the day he turned eighteen. Crepus was a tall man and his genes seemed to have went through. Back when they were younger, Diluc managed to only reach the blade of his shoulders, just barely. Now they were practically the same height, "Look how much you've grown over the years. There were so many things I planned to say but I don't know where to start."

Seven years. That was how long Crepus spent alone with his thoughts. He saw what happened through that time span, the truth about the Knights and Kaeya's origins. To say that none of that bothered him would be a lie. Especially when his son was the most impacted throughout all the events.

"Father I...I-" Diluc tries to speak but the words dissolved the moment it reached his tongue. He wasn't the type to be very good at expressing emotions. None of it could simply be communicated by sentences. For him, actions spoke louder yet somehow, they still wouldn't be enough. Nothing can comprehend the weight of seven years.

Crepus seemed to have understood and fills in the gap instead, "I have also missed you and Kaeya. More than I can even say. It must have been so hard for you both to endure it all by yourselves. Life hits us when we least expect it but despite that, you still chose to persevere."

Diluc clenches his hold, face buried in his shoulders and mouth quivering as he barely answers, "Yeah."

"You're both my pride and joy no matter what happens, as a father I cannot be more proud," before knowing, everything that was said came out naturally from his spirit. Crepus may have his own set of things to share but he knew what Diluc needed the most, "So please don't stop relying on one another, don't always think that you have to do everything alone. Stength is a virtue. However, its okay to let go and allow new people to come into your life. I don't need to be avenged, as long as you and Kaeya are happy, its all I ask for."

As if the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Diluc allows himself to break just this once. On the outside, he was known to be an unstoppable force, the Mondstadt tycoon, the uncrowned king and a hero who serves at night. But here you saw only a boy who dearly missed his father as he hugs him tightly. Although you couldn't hear their conversation clearly, just watching them from where you stood was enough to make your eyes glisten from pure happiness.

"You finally chose to open your heart, right Diluc?" You quietly note to yourself, "You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore, you're free."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

He was able to dwell in this one in a lifetime experience, all because you unlocked the heart and dispersed the fog inside.

They spent a good amount of minutes bringing the distance back together after being seperated for so many years. You made sure to make minimal movements in the consideration of their time. It was only temporary until Crepus noticed you standing in the distance and he gave you a quick glance. Your whole body tenses in response, suddenly feeling guilty as if you were a third wheel who didn't belong in the moment between two family members.

He's staring at me. Diluc's father is staring at me! Your thoughts panicked along with your thrumming heart. What should I do?!!

"I see you've brought someone along with you," He comments, the playfulness rising in his tone, "She seems to have been waiting for quite a while already. If you don't mind, may you do the honours of introducing her to me?"

Diluc turns to see you stiffened in place with your hands tightly clasped below your stomach and heat pooling from your ear to your cheeks as you dipped your head down. His father was a kind man and he couldn't understand there the discomfort came from, yet found it endearing nonetheless. Diluc walks over to you and extends his hand, silently urging you to come with him. You complied, albeit hesitantly at first.

"It'll be okay my love," he whispered softly, causing you to be taken aback by the nickname he called you by. Diluc often reserves them for special instances and this was one of them, "Whatever the staff told you about my father, they're the truth. Trust in their judgement. Trust in me."

"Diluc..." you say, voice fading. You knew him to be someone who always kept his word and someone who would never lie to you. Taking in a short breath, you nodded, "Alright, I will," and followed his lead.

There was once a time where you indulged in the idea of facing Master Crepus in person. But never did you prepare yourself for the amount of pressure it came with. Now that you were together with his son, there was a high chance that he would also become part of his family too, sooner or later. You weren't just meeting Master Crepus. You were also meeting your future father-in-law.

"Father, this is (Y/n)," Diluc starts the welcoming exchanges. You felt his hand squeeze yours gently. He turns to you so that you caught glimpse of his face, seeing the reverance in his gaze that was hinted among his handsome features, "She's the woman I fell in love with and I would do anything to make her happy. I cherish her more than anything else."

"D-Diluc!" you flushed, your embarassment as red as his own hair. But he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

"I only speak the truth."

Master Crepus lets out a content chuckle, drawing both of your attentions back to him, "He can be surprising poetic sometimes but I'm sure that he got it from me. Even my wife reacted the same way," he reminisced shortly before sighing, "In truth I already knew that you were together. Staying in the after life gave me the chances to watch things from an omniscient standpoint, I was sincerely worried how Diluc would handle things when I suddenly left, I hope you don't mind. If you do, I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"N-Not at all!"

"Haha, you're very kind. Thank you. I'm glad that my son was able to find a woman like you to be his fated partner. As a parent, it brings me great reassurance," Crepus remarked, "I know he can be stubborn and a little too headstrong when it comes to making decisions. It really must be a handful for you to deal with at times but I promise you that he means well. So please continue to watch over him in my stead, take care of my son while I'm gone."

"You can count on me," you beamed, "I'll give it my all."

"You have my gratitude (Y/n)," Crepus replies and turned to Diluc, "And listen to her every once in a while. I may have been the previous owner of our wine industry but even I always make sure to get me sufficient amount of rest. Son you know its bad to get two to three hours of sleep every day."

You blinked, "Two to three hours?"

Diluc clears his throat, "I understand Father. You don't have to say it."

Oh I think he does.

With a satisfied grin, Crepus took both of your hands together in his and gave you his blessings. The man once considered to be an artifact through the vast mansion was going to be part of the memories in your life. All of your expressions held as much happiness as the future can become now that he gave you the closure you both needed.

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skaldish · 2 years ago

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You know with all this sad shit going on rn I need to focus on some other stuff to keep my head straight.

So! Do question, do you like lowkey hate the monomyth? Cause I do, and like I’m not hating on it for like storytelling and writing purposes I think it’s immensely useful for that, what I do hate however is how its used by *some* people reading stories from different cultures.

Like as someone who loves anthropology, I believe our ability to tell stories is one of the most important and crucial factors in the building of the different cultures around the world. And one of my favorite things in consequence is the abundance of unique storytelling devices used to convey meaning.

Now Joseph Campbell’s “A Hero With A Thousand Faces” is immensely useful for drawing these distinct differences, but it is also useful in drawing connections and letting two cultures relate to one another. It’s beautiful in that sense, but some people instead see it a story as a finished math equation, and they’re trying to find which factor fits with which place in the equation. Character X is the hero, Character Y is the mentor, etc etc. its like a weird game of bingo.

Anyways, sorry its not an ask and more of a ramble, but I’d love to have this discussion.

I think it all boils down to a common misconception: That we can approach theology the same way we approach modern-day literature.

But myth isn't the same as literature, and myth doesn't always govern its religion—we only think it does because mythology is all we typically hear about when we learn of pagan religions. In reality, myth is more of the byproduct of religion as opposed to the source of it.

Boiling things down into monomyth says a lot of fascinating things about human psychology and how we interpret the world. However, It says nothing about how divinity operates within a culture's religious worldview.

I'm personally pretty opposed to monomyth in a polytheistic setting for many reasons:

It removes agency from individual deities.

It removes the cultural lens through which divinity is experienced.

It delegitimizes polytheism, boiling it down to a thought exercise.

It assumes all myths follow the Greco-Roman Classical Model.

There's also the fact I got Loki and Hermes in the same room once and they were completely different people, so I don't buy into this idea of monomyth on either a logical or an emotional level.

#answered

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eclipsednodes · 5 years ago

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SHADOW WORK SIMPLIFIED

What is shadow work?

If I had to describe shadow work in one word, it would be introspection. Introspection is the examination of your own mental state and is necessary in order to learn more about your fundamental nature. Although it may sound off-putting and even scary at first, shadow work is a necessary component in the process of healing. We all have aspects of ourselves that we’ve rejected and hidden away out of fear. Through shadow work, we’re able to reflect on our thoughts, emotions, and habits so that we can find the root cause of our suffering and heal ourselves. By reincorporating those aspects of ourselves that we’ve denied, we feel more fulfilled and can begin to love ourselves fully.

Where does shadow work come from?

The concept of the shadow self comes from Carl Jung who believed that our shadow self is the subconscious aspect, or “dark side”, of our personality that our conscious ego doesn’t identify with. However, I would like to clarify that “dark” does not imply or equate with bad. That which resides outside of our consciousness can be either good or bad, but aren’t inherently reflective of our value or “goodness” as a person.

Although these repressed aspects of ourselves can manifest negatively, it isn’t because those parts of us are “bad”, but that the process of repression is inherently painful and toxic. This is reflected by Jung when he states, "Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” He believed that until we’ve merged our conscious and subconscious selves, that our conscious would be “the slave of the autonomous shadow”. This is due to the shadow self overwhelming our conscious selves by falling victim to our own self-imposed traps.

Through assimilating this shadow self, not over-identifying with it, Jung believed we go through the process of enantiodromia, thereby integrating the subconscious by reincorporating our shadow selves into our personality and allowing us to solidify ourselves through wholeness. He best described this by stating "assimilation of the shadow gives a man body, so to speak.” However, don’t fall into the misconception that shadow work is a short-term practice. Shadow work is a continuous practice and integration of the shadow self is a will take place throughout your life.

How do I do shadow work?

In the last question, I identified that practicing self-reflection is a key component of shadow work, but what does that mean? What am I supposed to be reflecting on? Well, the first thing that you should focus on is being present throughout the day. Identify feelings that come up throughout the day and observe them objectively. What situation or interaction triggered these emotions? How did I react to those emotions? Were my emotions controlling me or was I in control of my emotions? Why did this situation or interaction cause me to feel this way? How did I cope with those feelings (self-harming, lashing out at others, communicating my feelings, journalling, etc.)? Did I punish myself for getting upset? If so, why?

There are numerous ways to reflect on your feelings and experiences in order to get a better understanding of yourself. Through evaluating how you react to situations, which situations upset you, and how you managed those feelings, you’re able to build the foundation to understanding your emotions and bridge the gap between your subconscious and conscious mind.

Once you’ve done this, you’ll find that the emotions you feel in the present are reflective of unhealed emotions from your past. Perhaps the reason you feel that you’re unable to set boundaries as an adult is because as a child, your parents never respected your boundaries by going through your phone or diary, yelling at you when you said no to a request, forcing you into situations that made you feel you had no choice.

By identifying the root cause of your emotional pain, you’re able to address it in the present and heal from the trauma. The simplest way that I’ve found to address them is through journalling. You can purchase a physical journal or even use your notes app, either way, you’re writing out your feelings and reflections to gain deeper insight. It’s important to remember that this looks different for anyone and that the best way to approach shadow work is by doing what feels most natural! You can choose to stick to self-reflective journal prompts, vent about whatever is upsetting you, write letters to whoever has hurt you, etc. Ultimately, you can guide yourself based off of what you feel you need and where you are in your journey.

What parts of yourself do you find yourself rejecting the most? Many of us have experienced the pain of rejection in some aspects of our lives and sometimes, it’s incredibly painful and leaves us with long-lasting wounds. We end up going through our lives carrying baggage that we don’t even know we have! Many times, I’ve found myself wondering why I felt so repulsed by aspects of myself and why I felt so strongly that they needed to be locked away forever. I couldn’t allow myself or others to see my truest self, my whole self, out of fear. I was scared of being rejected, shamed, humiliated by the people around me. I was scared of hurting other people by being myself and of being hurt by others. That’s no way to live, is it? When we tell ourselves that aspects of ourselves aren’t good enough, we end up going through life devaluing ourself. We’ve broken our own trust by rejecting ourselves, we’ve told ourselves that we aren’t good enough or worthy of love. In shadow work, you’re called to go inward and unpack everything that we’ve kept hidden for years and sometimes even decades.

Bring the parts of yourself that you’ve repressed to the surface and nourish them with love, allow yourself to see that ALL OF YOU is deserving of love and support. For you, that could mean unlearning your unhealthy beliefs about food or eating, allowing yourself to be emotional around the people you love (despite how much you were told that you were too emotional, a crybaby, too sensitive in the past), allowing yourself to relax without feeling guilty about not being productive because you recognize your needs (even though you feel your sense of worth is tied to being productive at the cost of your own health).

Common misconceptions about shadow work?

Shadow work is evil or bad, the shadow is evil or bad

The purpose of shadow work is healing through working with your subconscious to release repressed aspects of yourself and heal from painful, traumatic experiences. Your shadow side is simply your unconscious and to believe that it’s bad is to believe that you are bad. It’s merely the part of yourself that you aren’t aware of consciously and shouldn’t be feared.

Certain emotions are “bad”

When you let go of the idea that emotions are either good or bad, you’ll allow yourself to just be and stop putting so much pressure on yourself to feel “good” all of the time. Happiness isn’t a constant state of being so stop expecting to be all of the time, we have a range of emotions for a reason so stop being ashamed of them. Your feelings are natural and if you feel like they’re out of control and something to be ashamed of, there is nothing wrong with that! It’s okay to feel like your emotions are controlling you because that isn’t permanent. Your feelings aren’t permanent and are completely manageable with proper guidance! The reason you feel like your emotions are controlling you is because you probably don’t have the knowledge to cope with them in an effective and healthy way. It’s helpful to sit with your emotions alone and look at them objectively without placing any judgement on them, this will help you calm down and assess your feelings. From there, you can identify what you need to relax and recover as well as acknowledge to yourself that your feelings are natural. When you stop categorizing your emotions as bad, they’re no longer shameful to experience and therefore you can see with better clarity how to cope with them and move on.

I’ve already released it so…

Why am I still upset?

Why does it still keep popping up in my head?

Why haven’t I moved on?

Why am I not making progress?

With the rise of self development and spirituality, I find that more and more people are rushing to complete their healing. Healing is a continuous, life-long cycle and not a destination. Putting the pressure on yourself to reach the place of ultimate healing is not only toxic, but it impedes your ability to actually heal anything. Healing is about love, compassion, and patience and it’s not going to happen according to a timeline. Allow yourself the time to experience your emotions, see them objectively, forgive yourself and others and move on without the pressure of expectations.

Another reason that you could be experiencing this is that despite the work you think you’ve done, it hasn’t been sufficient. I’ve found that a lot of journal prompts provided online are surface level at best and can be more pacifying than revealing. If you’re not feeling anything while doing your inner work, you’re not doing it correctly. Ultimately, this is about uncovering what makes us UNCOMFORTABLE and moving through those feelings. When you allow yourself to experience the sadness, hurt, anger, and/or frustration than you’re telling yourself that these feelings are okay and don’t need to be suppressed. The reality is that no matter what you’re feeling, you are allowed to experience those emotions and it’s only human! Unfortunately, many people associate lower vibrational emotions as bad, but this is a huge misconception! Telling yourself that anger, sadness, etc. are “bad” implies that you shouldn’t experience these emotions and that you have to get rid of them which is not only wrong, but unhealthy. There is no right or wrong emotions so don’t buy into the belief that you should feel a certain way, simply allow yourself to be and you’ll find that it’s much easier to navigate your emotions and needs. The only way to make it to the other side is by wading through the water, be patient and know that you’re feeling exactly what you should be. When you stop censoring yourself, you’ll discover a newfound sense of freedom and wholeness.

If you find yourself circling back to certain topics, for example, your ex-boyfriend than perhaps there are triggers in your environment that remind you of the situation, you have more that needs to be addressed that you may not have been ready for or aware of previously (hence why shadow work is a practice that is ongoing), or they’re representative of a deeper issue that you’re repressing. Whatever the cause is, the same methods as earlier will apply and can be discerned through your own intuition.

What are some basic journal prompts that I can do?

What feelings come up when you think of ____?

How did that experience make you feel emotionally? How did it make you feel about yourself? How did it make you feel about the other person or people?

Write a letter to yourself, your inner child, the people who’ve hurt you, and the people you’ve hurt. Express how you feel honestly, without holding back and then forgive yourself and the other person.

If you could say anything to yourself or another person for closure, what would it be?

How have these situations and experiences impacted your mental health? How have they affected your belief system about yourself, other people, and the world?

What about yourself are you ashamed of? What about yourself are you embarrassed of? What about yourself makes you angry? What do you regret? Why do you feel this way about yourself and where do these feelings stem from?

What makes you feel most alone? What makes you feel most loved? How can you incorporate that knowledge into your life to make it better?

What’s the most hurtful thing someone has said or done to you? Why did it hurt you so much? How does it still affect you now? How can you heal from it and allow yourself to move on?

What do you need to forgive yourself for? What do you need to forgive others for?

Where do you feel you lack security in your life? Why? How does this impact your life and your relationships?

This is a list of generic prompts for you to start with, but feel free to message me if you need help with more specific topics or I can make another post altogether for journal prompts.

#shadow work #spirituality #witchblr #carl jung #witchcraft #energy work #healing #shadow self

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queenshelby · 4 years ago

Text

ME AND THE DEVIL – PART TWO

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 6,459

Warnings: Smut, Mention of Domestic Abuse and Racism

Tag List (Tommy Shelby):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @captivatedbycillianmurphy @fookingshelby @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback

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@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph

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The Charity

Usually, you didn’t accompany your husband to political events but, tonight, was different. It was a big night in Westminster.

One of the judges from the Queen’s Bench invited several members of parliament to a charity ball. The ball was hosted by the judge at his rather large mansion which he inherited from his father who was a well-known politician before he passed before the First World War.

The judge was a smart man but had recently fallen under the spell of your husband. He favoured national socialism after the stock market crash in the previous year and your husband’s ideals aligned with his.

It was of the upmost importance for your husband that you attend this function with him. It was all about appearances and, since the judge believed in the value of marriage, Oswald wanted to present himself as the perfect husband to his young wife.

Most importantly, the judge wanted to fund Oswald’s campaign with the view to gain power if your husband’s movement gained enough traction. Oswald wanted you to befriend the judge’s wife to ensure that the funding would be forthcoming.

The judge’s wife was a lady and rather wealthy herself. She was also involved in charitable organisations and you had her before, but only briefly.

Despite some familiar faces, there were also people who attended the ball who, apparently, you hadn’t met before. Or have you?

Just after you entered the large mansion and were greeted by the host, your husband introduced you to his acquaintances, one of whom in particular caught your interest.

‘Y/N, may I introduce you to my acquaintance Mr Thomas Shelby, the deputy leader of the British Union of Fascists’ Oswald said, causing your heart to skip a beat. You knew from Ada since your last encounter that Tommy was a politician. But, you had no idea that he was a fascist and member of your husband’s party.

‘Mr Shelby, this is my wife, Y/N Mosley’ he added in which moment Tommy’s looked at you as if he had seen a ghost.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs Mosley’ he said after clearing his throat. It was obvious to you that he had to quickly collected his thoughts.

‘Likewise, Mr Shelby’ you said as you shook his hand. You remembered his large and masculine hands. In fact, you remembered them very well. They were doing amazing and pleasurable things to you.

‘Would you like me to get your wife a drink while you arrange the meeting with Judge Kutchner. I could introduce her to my wife and they could talk about the upcoming charity event, eh?’ Tommy asked your husband as he had been inundated by several invitees of the host.

‘That is very thoughtful of you, Mr Shelby. I would appreciate it’ your husband said politely.

‘Alright then. Follow me, Mrs Mosley’ Tommy said as he took your hand like a gentleman and walked with you towards a group of women who included his wife Elizabeth Shelby and the judge’s wife Marianne.

‘Did you know that I was Oswald’s wife when you made an advance towards me?’ you asked curiously as he walked with you across the dancehall.

‘Of course not. Otherwise, I would not have touched you’ Tommy said with a serious face and somewhat flustered, causing you to giggle.

‘What’s so fucking funny, eh?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. It’s nothing’ you said, still giggling.

‘I don’t see the humour in this Y/N. What you are doing is dangerous. Your husband is a dangerous man. But I am sure you know this’ Tommy said firmly as he stopped near the champaign fountain before handing you a glass of champaign.

‘What I am doing is it dangerous? If I recall correctly, it was you who kissed me first’ you said.

‘Yes, which I did before I knew who you were married to. You could have fucking told me, eh’ Tommy said.

‘Well, if it’s any consolation to you, I didn’t know you were my husband’s acquaintance in business. In fact, I didn’t really take you to be a fascist when I met you. What is it that you are doing for the orphanage anyway? Wiping clean your conscience after supporting racism and cheating on your wife?’ you asked sharply as you quickly drank the entire glass of champaign.

Tommy grinned at you. He was carrying a sheepish smile across his face.

‘I don’t have a conscience Love. I do bad things. That’s just who I am. But, by listening to you, I take it that you do not support your husband’s cause Mrs Mosley?’ Tommy said as if he was asking a question.

‘Well, Mr Shelby, despite of you what you are telling me here, I don’t think that you do either’ you said firmly, but Tommy ignored your comment entirely as you finally approached the group of women he was intending to introduce you to.

‘I would prefer if our little indiscretion at the library could stay between us eh’ Tommy whispered.

‘Agreed’ you sighed quietly just before Tommy introduced you to his wife Lizzie.

You talked to Lizzie for a quite some time and you could tell that Lizzie and Tommy had problems of their own. Their marriage was a marriage for show just like yours and Oswald’s marriage. Lizzie hated to be at this event just as much as you did and you soon became to learn of her past from your husband, who felt it necessary to tell you. He also saw the need to tell you that, many years ago, he slept with Lizzie when she was still a prostitute and you became to wonder about Tommy’s motives involving himself in the fascist movement. How could he work with your husband after your husband acted the way he did, rubbing his past relations with Lizzie into Tommy’s face every chance he got.

But, perhaps Tommy didn’t care. After all, it was evident to you that Tommy had married Lizzie simply because he had to. Their child was born just after they were married and in a position like his, you could not have children with someone who you weren’t married to. It was the norm and common practice.

In some way, you were thankful that you weren’t able to conceive even following many attempts by your husband to get you pregnant. At least this way, you were hopeful that, once your husband’s party gained power, he would decide to leave you for another woman. Divorce was less frowned upon if you didn’t have children. After all, who could deny an important man like him to have children of his own if his wife was infertile.

With these thoughts running through your head, the remainder of the evening went somewhat uneventful and you and your husband left at around midnight.

After you went to bed, he arranged for a prostitute to come by the house. This wasn’t unusual and it didn’t bother you. In fact, you switched off to the sounds he made when sleeping with another woman in your house. Sometimes you felt as though he was doing it in order to hurt you since you weren’t a very attentive wife. But you didn’t care. In fact, that night, your thoughts were lying entirely with a different man. His acquaintance, Thomas Shelby, by whom you were intrigued by despite his association with the party.

Little did you know that, soon, you would meet him again in a familiar location.

The Library

It was a week after your last encounter with Tommy at the charity ball that you decided to continue your work at the orphanage library.

You’ve been stacking books on shelves all day until, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, you saw a familiar face.

‘Mr Shelby, what a surprise’ you said as you finished packing up the last of the books and noticed Tommy walking towards you through the library hall.

‘Good Evening Mrs Mosely’ he said as he approached you.

‘Good Evening….What are you doing here?’ you asked politely.

‘I had a meeting in the area and thought I would stop by to see how the library is coming along’ Tommy said, keeping his distance from you this time around.

‘Oh, I see, your conscience is playing tricks on you Mr Shelby, eh?’ you said sheepishly, causing Tommy to laugh.

‘Perhaps…’ Tommy said before taking a pause. ‘This is for you Y/N. I thought you might like it’ Tommy said as he handed you a book entitled ‘Changing the way we think – A contemporary view on the Revolution’.

‘Well, thank you Mr Shelby. But please enlighten me as to why are you are gifting this to me? I am sure you know that this book favours communism’ you asked.

‘It became obvious to me that this would take your interest and I suppose that I have a conscience after all. In fact, I felt as though I needed to apologise to you for my actions during our last encounter here at the library’ Tommy said.

‘I am delighted to hear that you are taking some responsibility for what happened between us Tommy’ you laughed. ‘And, I accept your apology’ you added with slight giggle before asking him whether it was ok for you to call him by his first name when your husband wasn’t around. You hated formalities.

Tommy agreed and told you that he had to leave shortly. According to him, he had business matters to attend to.

‘Can you stay for one drink at least? I have Whiskey’ you said.

‘Sure. I suppose why not’ Tommy said as he sat down on a chair near the desk in between the stack of books that haven’t been sorted yet.

You pulled out a small bottle of Irish Whiskey and two glasses from behind one of the shelves.

‘My husband doesn’t allow me to drink anything but champaign at public events. However, unbeknownst to him, I would, occasionally, indulge on a glass of his very expensive whiskey after work with your sister Ada’ you said sheepishly as you poured you both a glass.

‘Well, don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me’ Tommy smirked as he took one of the glasses from your hands.

‘Now, Y/N, I am intrigued. Did you actually choose to marry Oswald Mosley?’ Tommy asked.

‘No, I didn’t. But he chose to marry me. My father is the chief of police in London which should explain to you why I was his chosen wife’ you explained. ‘Although, no doubt, you are also aware that he would, on occasion, choose other women to keep him company as well’ you said shyly.

‘I’ve heard your stepmother is one of those other women he chooses to interact with privately on occasion. Is that true?’ Tommy asked sheepishly.

‘You know it is’ you laughed.

‘And it does not bother you?’ Tommy asked.

‘That my husband fucks my stepmother, my sister and every second whore in London? No, it does not bother me. At least this way he keeps his hands of me’ you said with a laugh.

‘I consider your husband’s taste when it comes to women rather questionable’ Tommy chuckled.

‘And why is that?’ you asked.

‘Because he’s got you. What does he want these other women for, eh?’ Tommy said.

‘Because he likes variety. Despite, I cannot give him a child. He said I am not worth his attention or effort’ you said after taking a deep breath.

‘The bruises, on your arms and neck, was this him then?’ Tommy asked, causing you to nod, small tears beginning to run down your face.

‘Yes, we argued and when I do not agree with him then this is what happens’ you said rather upset.

‘I am sorry’ Tommy said as he handed you his handkerchief so that you could wipe away your tears.

‘Are you? Because you seem to be reinforcing his ideals and you aren’t exactly faithful towards your wife either’ you said.

‘Perhaps you have gotten the wrong idea about me Y/N. And, for what it’s worth, me and my wife have an arrangement in place which permits me to be with other women. I would never hurt her. Also, no doubt you are already aware as to why I married her, eh?’ Tommy asked.

‘So, you don’t love your wife?’ you asked.

‘No, I don’t love my wife. But I trust and respect her and I promised her that I will agree with her request for a divorce after the elections. Perhaps your husband would be prepared to do the same’ Tommy said.

‘I think you know my husband better than that Mr Shelby’ you chuckled. ‘He will never let me go unless I am buried in the ground’ you said.

‘You might be surprised Y/N. I know that he’s taken an interest in another woman who supports his ideals’ Tommy said.

‘Well, perhaps there is hope for me then Tommy…’ you said before taking a deep breath.

‘You know, I often overhear Oswald talking, over the phone. He recently made allies in Germany and he is getting involved with the right-wing party over there which seems to be gaining popularity. I am not sure whether you are aware of this Tommy’ you said.

‘Why are you telling me this Y/N?’ Tommy asked, his face serious.

‘Because I can help you’ you said.

‘Help me with what, eh?’ Tommy asked.

‘With information. I have researched you after our encounter at the ball and, in the course of my research, I met a woman named Jesse Eden who was present in Birmingham during the assassination attempt on my husband. The man they believed to be the shooter was in France with you and, unlike my husband, I do not believe in coincidences’ you said.

‘What you are alleging is absurd and you need to be careful when dealing with Jesse Eden. You should not involve yourself with the communists behind your husband’s back’ Tommy said.

‘Thomas, my husband beats me and treats me like a common whore. I have nothing to lose’ you said.

Tommy took a deep breath following your comment. He was speechless over the lack of fear in your eyes.

For some reason, he trusted you and you reminded him a lot of his late wife Grace when he first met her. You were young and determined to do the right thing and, looking at you, took Tommy back in time when he allowed himself to become vulnerable and let his feelings control him.

It wasn’t something that Tommy wanted to admit to himself, but he cared for you in the most obscure way. After France, this was a rare occurrence but, in this moment, Tommy’s feelings of guilt and desire for you took over his reasonable thinking mind.

‘Can you get a copy of the call records from the phone at your house from the directory?’ Tommy asked, causing you to nod.

‘Alright, then perhaps we can help each other, eh? Meet me tomorrow at 7 o’clock at the steel factory on Watery Lane’ Tommy said.

‘If my husband is home, I cannot leave at that hour’ you responded.

‘I will make sure that he won’t be home until the early hours of the morning’ Tommy said.

You agreed with Tommy’s request and, over the next few days, you were carefully collection the records he had requested.

The Factory

At 6 o’clock, your husband left the house to meet with a woman. You were certain that Tommy had arranged this, but you didn’t mind.

You quickly put on your coat and got into your Bentley which was parked behind the house.

The drive took you thirty minutes and you arrived at Watery Lane slightly early.

The factory door was open and you walked inside, making sure that no one saw you.

‘Did anyone follow you?’ Tommy asked after he greeted you, causing you to shake your head.

You followed Tommy through the building. Not a single person was inside. It was only you and Tommy and Tommy was quick to take you to his office on the upper floor.

His office was large with a brown cedar desk in the middle of it and a dark red leather lounge, a brown cedar table and two leather chairs on the side beneath a large window.

He had lidded the fire in his office and it was obvious to you that he had been working from his office for quite some time before you got there.

You sat down on the lounge and took off your coat, placing it over one of the arm chairs.

‘You are hurt’ Tommy said as he observed another large bruise on your arm.

‘It’s fine Tommy, I am used to it. Perhaps I am just weak’ you said as some tears were running down your cheeks as you opened your bag and pulled out a piece of paper.

You handed the paper to Tommy. It contained the phone records from the last three days.

‘I will make this right Y/N. I promise’ Tommy said as he sat down next you.

Tommy handed you a glass of whiskey and took the piece of paper from you before wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

‘Jesse Eden was right’ you chuckled as you took a sip of the whiskey he had given you.

‘About what?’ Tommy asked.

‘That, deep down inside, you are a man with morals’ you said as you gently touched his cheek, catching him by surprise.

‘And you are stronger than you think Y/N’ Tommy said before giving you a gentle smile which was somewhat unusual coming from Tommy.

In that moment, you remembered your kiss and the short period of intimacy between you several weeks earlier, an accident of some sort and an escape from reality for you.

Where would things have gone if he didn’t ask your name and if you never knew his? Would you have broken your vows again by now, the vows that meant nothing to you?

‘You know Tommy, I just want to feel something for once in my life. Feel desired, loved and wanted. Perhaps I am just being selfish fighting this fight against my husband but I want more from life than just being married to a man like him’ you said.

‘Y/N, this has nothing to do with being selfish. You are doing the right thing. It’s for the greater good of many people. You will be free of him one day and, when you are, you will get to experience everything that you deserve. Desire, love, everything you want. I promise’ Tommy said as he cupped your face gently.

‘Tommy, the truth is that I don’t want to wait any longer to feel all these things. I know that I might not actually get out of this alive if my husband finds out that I betray him and I don’t want to miss out’ you said.

‘So, what are you suggesting?’ Tommy asked.

‘Make me feel desired Thomas, please’ you said with need in your eyes. ‘I know you want to be with me. I’ve seen it in your eyes and I felt it that day at the library’ you said.

Tommy knew that this was a very bad idea, but he wanted you as much as you wanted him. He wanted you since the day he met you at the orphanage. You intrigued him just the way Grace intrigued him when she first started to work at the Garrison.

After taking a deep breath and unable to hold back his desire any longer, he leaned in and kissed you gently but passionately.

His soft lips pressed against yours while his hands caressed your face gently. It was unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced.

‘Is this what you want?’ Tommy asked as he broke the kiss for a moment.

‘This and so much more Tommy, please’ you said as you crashed your lips back onto his.

You had only ever been with one man before and this was your husband, who was brutal and hadn’t pleasured you, not even once. It was all about him when he forced himself on you and, luckily for you, the last time he made you sleep with him was almost a year ago.

With Tommy, you could feel desire. It was mutual desire for each other.

‘Alright…just another secret to add to our list of secrets, eh?’ Tommy smirked after he broke the kiss and placed a blanket and some pillows onto the floor in front of the fire place.

You looked at him curiously before he took your hand and guided you over towards the fire place before kissing you again gently.

‘I will give you what you want. But this needs to stay between us Y/N’ Tommy said as a soft smile ran over his lips.

‘That goes without saying Tommy’ you smiled while Tommy removed his suit jacket, gun holster and shoes.

You also slipped off your shoes but did not know what to do next, looking at Tommy full of questions.

But, within a split second, your questions were answered by Tommy’s actions. He caught your body to his, and you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your breasts into his chest.

Not knowing what to say, you reached up and pulled his mouth down to yours again. The touch of his warm lips brushing against yours caused a thrill of excitement to rush through you once more. His kiss was soft, gentle, and then became more urgent as you opened your mouth to accept his tongue. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt as you kissed him back fervently.

‘You are beautiful’ Tommy said as your lips drifted apart before kissing you again, deepening and lengthening it all the more, showing just how much he wanted you. This was the first time you were told this by a man and it felt amazing coming from him.

After your lips finally drifted apart, he simply smiled at you. The smile that crossed his face warmed your trembling limbs and hid your excited nervousness. You smiled in return, not trusting your voice. Of course, you wanted this every bit as much as he did. You wanted him more than anyone you had ever known, but now you felt somehow unstable when finally faced with having sex for the first time with a man you had actually chosen to be with.

The bravado you usually wore like a shield seemed to desert you, and even though you remained fully clothed, you felt naked under his heated gaze. You suddenly worried about your inexperience, your body and if he would still look at you in the same way once you were stripped of your clothes. God, this was a mistake. He couldn't want you the same way that you wanted him. You didn't know how you had managed to convince yourself that this could work.

Tommy saw the panic of insecurity rise in your eyes, and he reached out to gently push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and grazed your bottom lip with his thumb before bringing his mouth to yours again. It was a slow kiss, deepening as his desire built even further. He knew he needed to go slow with you, take you gently after all you’ve been through.

A hot rush travelled through your body as you responded to his kiss and felt him toying with the buttons on the back of your dress. One button at a time popped open under his fingers, and the cool air wrapped itself around your shoulders as he slid the bodice of the dress down to expose to his gaze the lace bra that you wore. You gasped as you felt him nuzzle into your neck and trace your collarbone with his lips.

Tommy groaned at the sight of you, trailing his fingers over the delicate white lace bra.

‘Are you wearing panties that match?’ Tommy asked with curiosity.

‘Yes, of course’ you moaned as he brushed his fingers across your lace-covered nipples. They surged under his caress and sent piercing streaks of arousal to your pussy.

His caress was like a hot spark through the fabric, and his touch excited you like you hadn't believed possible from your past experiences.

You didn't know how you would withstand his hands on the naked skin of your breast as you felt him reach behind you for the clasp. You felt the pressure of the material release, and without the slow unveiling you had expected, he pulled it away quickly and your breasts spilled out, ripe and firm, as the lace garment fell to the floor.

‘God, you're beautiful’ Tommy said again. But this time, his voice sounded more than husky, scratchy even, as if it was raw with the heat and lust he felt for you.

You felt a blush creep up your neck in response to his comment. The urge to cover your chest with your arms was strong, but you resisted.

Instead you decided to take the words he had uttered and bolster your flagging self-confidence to ask for what you wanted now.

‘Touch me please, Tommy’ you groaned. You'd hoped your voice would sound strong and self-assured. Unfortunately, you couldn't pull it off, and it shook with pure anxiety.

‘You couldn't stop me now if you tried’ Tommy groaned, cupping your breast and leaning down to swipe his tongue across one hard nipple.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you whimpered, as he teased the hard, little bud with his lips and rolled the other stiff nipple between two fingers. Your legs felt like they might collapse under you.

‘Maybe you better lie down eh’ Tommy grinned as he guided you onto the blanket and pillows on the floor.

Tommy was quick to remove his shirt but left on his black suit pants for now before leaning down over you and kissing you once more.

His lips soon trailed down your neck and returned to your small naked breasts.

There was intense look on his face as he took one of your thus-far neglected breast into his warm mouth. He licked and sucked, alternating between the two stiff peaks, until you trembled and gasped on the edge of something you'd never experienced before. You felt feverish with excitement. Your mouth was dry, but your body was more alive than it had ever been before. Without him having touched your pussy, it was wet, yet felt as if it was on fire and throbbing with need.

Shivers of anticipation shot up your spine, and you sucked your breath in raggedly as he dragged his insistent tongue down, letting it trail over your belly and to your navel. He pushed down on the bottom half of your dress, and you lifted your hips off the bed to help him remove it. Tommy took his time exploring your body, trailing his fingers and mouth over your belly and thighs, before running them teasingly over the lace of your panties, making your moan loudly.

‘Take off your panties. I want to see all of you’ Tommy said. His voice was thick with longing.

The panties were moist, evidence of your excitement, and you were certain that he could smell your arousal as you hooked your thumbs inside the waistband of the lacy white panties and wriggled out of them. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly excited by the expression on his face, as he watched you offer your body to him. His expression showed eagerness, pleasure, even greed, you thought. There was no sign of the trepidation you had expected to see there.

Without taking his gaze from you he stood up and opened his belt and the zipper of his pants and finally shoved them down his legs with his underwear. He kicked them off and stood before you.

You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped your lips. Tommy's body was well-toned, with a broad chest and slightly tapering waist. Short hairs nestled between his nipples and ran in a thin wisp upwards towards the top of his chest which was covered with some army tattoos.

But it was his cock that held your attention. It stood, swollen and erect, thrusting out from his dark pubic hair. Your breath caught in your throat. It appeared impossibly thick and long, with distended veins running along the shaft. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of it, but your stomach churned in repressed fear. None of the intimate male parts you had seen before had ever looked quite so imposing. Could you take it? Would it fit? Oh God, you would have to stop him... Would he let your stop him now?

As he joined you again on the blanket in front of the fire place, his hands moved slowly and tenderly over your body, pushing the anxiety from your mind as they wandered over your contours and cupped your pussy gently. You groaned softly as his fingers caressed the lips, wet with your arousal, and then slid between their moistness into the entrance of your pussy. Tommy buried his face against your neck, kissing it gently.

You moved your pelvis in time with his probing fingers. They were curious and insistent and were creating marvellous sensations in your pussy.

You groaned and spread your legs wider, allowing him easier access.

‘Oh God, Tommy, that feels so…’ Your voice faded as he took immediate advantage of your pleasure, dipping his finger deeper inside your wetness. Your hips jerked suddenly at the familiar but yet pleasurable sensation of being penetrated by is thick fingers.

Tommy felt the heavy beating of your heart. Its rhythm matched his own, but the throbbing in his cock was wilder than he could remember. It took every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself and not plough into your immediately. The sight of you, naked beneath him, drove him crazy.

Unable to restrain his need to taste you properly, he kissed down your body again so that he could let his tongue slide through your glistening labia and taste your delicious essence as his lips sought out your fleshy clit.

‘Oh, Tommy! Oh, shit!’ you moaned, squirming under his mouth.

No one had ever kissed you there, in your most intimate area.

Your nails dug into his scalp to hold him there. You didn't want him to ever stop. His tongue was creating sensations in your that you had never experienced before. Masturbation had always been good for you. You knew how to use your fingers expertly to bring yourself to climax, but this was different. It was warmer, wetter and more teasing, with an intense build up that made you want to thrash around and cry out in pleasure and frustration. You rocked your pelvis against his mouth, your inhibitions fading into the background of the sensations he gave you. You moved with him, demanding more as he licked and explored you.

A squeal of pure pleasure tore from your lips as your spasms started deep inside. You trembled and gasped at the sensations that raced through your body to your pussy and exploded in a wave of pleasure that radiated back throughout your body again. As the waves of sensation crossed each other, you swore you would pass out. You held on to the here and now, enjoying the wild ride, and when you opened your eyes at last, you found him smiling at your, the edges of his mouth glistening with your juices.

‘Holy fuck, Tommy’ you said as he moved back up towards you which is when you boldly reached out to caress the rigid cock pressed into your side, eager at the thought of giving him the same pleasure he had just given you.

It was hot and hard in your hands, and a small trickle of precum dribbled from the tip. Moving to a better position, you bent your head and tentatively stroked the velvety shaft against the side of your soft cheek, before dragging the tip of your tongue over the crown. Very gently, you drew it into your mouth and sucked slowly, lovingly, savouring his meaty thickness. You were surprised by your own enjoyment of this. You hated doing this to your husband when you were required to, but with Tommy, it was different.

‘Fuck, I'm hanging on by a thread here, Y/N, and I won't be able to hold out if you do that much longer’ he grunted after about ten minutes of you pleasuring him and as he watched your latch your soft lips onto his throbbing hardness. You moaned, overcome with the sensation of having him in your mouth and the taste of his excitement.

‘Then don't. I came, so come for me, Tommy. I want you’ you said after lifting your lips from his cock and looking up at him through hooded lids that only served to stoke the fire of his desire to even higher levels.

‘No’ he groaned and pulled you from his cock, pushing your back onto the blanket.

‘The first time I come tonight will not be in your mouth’ he grimaced.

A rush of adrenaline shot through you as he moved between your thighs. You felt the heat coming off him as he nudged himself against the moist outer lips of your pussy.

You spread your legs, and he rubbed the head of his cock over your slickness.

He hesitated for a second as he struggled to get himself under control then, leaning forward and supporting himself with his arms, he pressed ahead, pushing himself into your wetness.

His attention was focused on the warm, wet feeling of your lips surrounding his cock. They opened slowly to him, and he slowly pushed himself into the velvety depths of you.

‘Oh, Tommy’ you moaned. Your voice was tremulous and shaky as he filled you and stretched you beyond what you had known.

Hearing your tremulous moan, he thrust forward sharply and groaned as he slid all the way up inside you.

You winced and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out.

Your breathing was fast and shallow as your pussy opened and stretched to take all of him.

Despite the soreness and feeling of being overfull, it was a wondrous moment for you, finally knowing what it felt like to be with a man who you desired.

It wasn’t long until you became accustomed to the amazing fullness, yet he struggled to accustom to you.

‘Fuck, you're tight’ Tommy gasped at the snugness of you, barely holding onto his self-control. Now that he was in deeper, surrounded by your wetness, he was careful not to move, to let you get used to the feel of him inside you.

It almost killed him not to plunge repeatedly into you. His cock felt harder than it ever had and your cries of pleasure, knowing no one had ever made you feel like this, made him feel more virile, more potent than he ever had.

‘I'm okay Tommy. You don't have to hold back’ you said as you breathed into his neck, clinging on to him tightly.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and raked your nails down his back as he sunk deeper into you. The eyes looking down at you were tinged with concern and fire, but you wanted his desire, his passion, to feel beautiful in his arms. You wanted him to make love to you, but you also wanted him to fuck you.

Tommy moved his hips slowly, sliding his cock back and forth inside you, letting you get used to the rhythm.

You moved with him, intuitively pushing your pelvis upwards as he slid into you. Each time he buried himself in your pussy, your clit was trapped against the upper side of his shaft. You moaned loudly at the exquisite sensations and ground your pussy up against him even harder, pumping back faster, until the sounds of your bodies slapping against each other and the squelching sound of your passionate fucking sent a wave of need and pure lust through him.

‘Oh yes Tommy’ you gasped, licking his neck and biting at his shoulders.

‘Don't hold back. Please, I need you to fuck me’ you gasped again, unbelieving that you had said the words that chased around your brain out loud.

your words caused the blood to rush through his veins and pound in his head. He stared into your desire-filled gaze but, when his eyes locked with yours, a deeper connection hit him with more force than he had ever known with any woman since Grace.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Tommy moaned. Your name tore from his lips as he plundered your body. His tongue drove into your mouth, sweeping inside, tasting, commanding, and taking what he needed. He could no longer restrain himself and he let himself go, fucking you the way he'd wanted to ever since you had appeared in his life. With a growl of pure lust, he pumped his hips, plunging into you over and over. He couldn't get deep enough.

‘Oh god Tommy, don’t stop’ you moaned as he drove into you. Your body arched and undulated under his fevered lovemaking. The muscles of your pussy clenched and spasmed around his cock as a great bubble of pleasure rose up from your toes, engulfed you and burst into shards of explosive release that had you shuddering and sobbing.

‘Fuck’ Tommy moaned at the sight of your pleasure. Your face and torso were flushed, your breath raspy, as you writhed beneath him and clawed at him while your body peaked again.

You cried out his name once more, and he lost it. A roar exploded from him as his body crested and he toppled over the edge. His cock throbbed and pulsed, spilling his anguish and a steady stream of cum into you.

After he came down from his high, he collapsed on you gasping, trying to regain his breath.

After he gently pulled out of you, you could feel some of his warm cum leak from your most intimate part as he rolled to the side, lying next to you.

He held you close as your head was resting on his chest.

‘I am sorry for the unpleasantness of the location and the hard wooden floor’ Tommy chuckled.

‘There is no need to be sorry Tommy. You’ve just given me more pleasure than anyone before’ you said, causing Tommy to smile.

‘I promise that, next time, we will fuck on a bed, eh…a comfortable bed’ Tommy smirked.

‘So, this wasn’t a one off then?’ you asked.

‘It doesn’t have to be, if we are careful’ Tommy said, thinking that, how much worse could it possibly get. You are already conspiring against your husband together so, when you meet to exchange information, you might as well sleep with each other.

But little did Tommy and you know that your husband may soon find out about your indiscretions when nature takes its course.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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adhd-asd · 3 years ago

Text

Anonymous asked: "i have ADHD and ASD, I don’t know if they really play a role in my difficulty to write scripts or outlines, but it seems like whenever i want to start a story project and visualise it into writing and art, it just…..doesn’t work? Like, i have story ideas, but the way they come out never meet my satisfaction or, at least, the way i write them, feels too restricting and….i don’t know?

writing scripts, the dialogue feels very bland and tedious - writing outlines is fine for me but i put too much thought into them to the point they are restricting. but, also, when i try to make up a story as i go with a basic plot in mind, i lose a massive sense of direction if i don’t have an outline or script. and i just feel very, very stuck."

If you're just looking for a short-form list of tips and tricks that might help make creating easier, I have a post here that offers advice on writing with ADHD that you may find helpful.

However, I found this question really interesting and wanted to do a more in-depth exploration of the topic of creating with ADHD/ASD and the difficulties that can come with that, as well. I have a lot of thoughts on the topic as an ADHD/ASD creator myself, so it got quite long, but I hope you might find some of them interesting or useful.

Do ADHD/ASD Play a Role?

Firstly, I believe that my ADHD and ASD affect just about every part of my life, including my creative process, and I imagine the same is likely true for you. It's entirely plausible (and I would even say likely) that they're playing a part in the conflict you feel when trying to create.

That being said, I also believe that there are ways we can accommodate or work around our unique challenges rather than putting effort into trying to overcome them or letting them get us down. I also don't think your difficulties are exclusively a result of ADHD/ASD, either, and I'll be discussing both points in more detail below.

On Meeting Your Own Expectations

I think, at least to some extent, your first paragraph could apply to most creators, regardless of ADHD/ASD.

Very rarely do I find that my works end up matching what I visualise in my mind, and it can often be frustrating and demotivating when what I produce seems inferior to the hypothetical version I had planned or envisioned. And I've seen this same sentiment expressed by a lot of artists and writers.

When those feelings crop up, I try to remind myself that it's okay, nobody else has seen the hypothetical 'perfect version' of what I was trying to create that's in my mind, and they'll be judging the work on its own merits instead. I think an important part of being a creator is consciously working on accepting that things will almost never go exactly as envisioned, and that's okay. It's not a reason to abandon the work, and the more you keep creating, the more practice you'll have getting your ideas down.

It's definitely easier said than done, but as with all creative pursuits, feeling beholden to perfection will ultimately prevent you from getting anything done or growing as a creator, and sometimes you have to just let things go and keep moving forward. A work doesn't have to be perfect to have value and be worthy of praise.

On Perfectionism

All that being said, I wouldn't be at all surprised if your ADHD and ASD were compounding on this common experience to a degree. It's very common for people with ASD to be inflexible and extremely detail-oriented, and many an ADHDer can struggle with perfectionism (which I've briefly discussed in the second half of this post). Falling into the trap of obsessively tweaking things until they're just right is pretty easy.

The good news is that I think when you're aware that these are pitfalls you're likely to experience, you can better notice them and implement measures to help you work around them. Better understanding your symptoms and being kind to yourself when you experience them can make the situation less hostile, and researching how to cope with/compensate for them could help not only with your creative process, but other areas of life as well.

On Finding Your Creative Process

A big part of creating is finding a process that works for you.

Some people plan in meticulous detail while others fly by the seat of their pants; some prepare outlines and tough drafts and follow the steps in order and others bounce around and make it up as they go.

From the way you're describing things, it sounds like your current process isn't working for you, and you may benefit from changing your approach to creating entirely. You already seem to be consciously aware of the parts that are causing the most difficulty and frustration for you, so the next step is to brainstorm how to modify them to make your creativity more accessible to you.

I, for example, write scenes out of order and constantly go back and add to them as I get new ideas. I also draw my lineart in random sections, moving on to a new one anytime I get bored (even if the current section isn't finished) until it eventually comes together like a patchwork quilt. These are some ways I've found to keep things interesting and keep me engaged in the work, and they may seem weird, but they sure do work!

So Let's Do Some Brainstorming

If you overthink your outlines and then feel stifled by them, try deliberately limiting how much detail you allow yourself to include. It's not an 'all or nothing' situation, and you can practise and experiment with varying document layouts and amounts of detail until you've found something that feels more approachable.

If you're currently writing paragraphs, try bullet points, or a flow chart, or sticky notes that you can rearrange. If you plot out every detail, try starting with only the most major events so you always have some direction for where the story is going but still allow for more freedom and creativity. If you spend hours on an outline, try setting a timer so you only have a set amount of time for each point.

And remember that you can change your outline as you go! If you're so caught up in following your outline that it's stifling your creativity, maybe it's an issue of perspective rather than process. Remind yourself that your outline is a tool to help you and that you're free to adjust it whenever it's not serving its purpose.

I don't know what your current process looks like so maybe these specific examples aren't helpful to you, but hopefully they can illustrate how to look at the areas where you're getting stuck and find a way to change them so that they suit your needs. Even if it seems unconventional or doesn't align with the process other people use or have told you to use, it's important to do what works for you.

In Summary / TL;DR

Creativity in general often comes down to experimenting until you find a method/process/style that works for you, and that's true for anyone. It's also true that art rarely goes exactly as planned, and sometimes you just have to accept that you've done well enough and move on.

But when you're a creator with ADHD/ASD, it can be extra difficult to do so because of our unique challenges related to internal motivation, perfectionism, and staying focused and flexible. Being aware of your symptoms and the challenges that they might present, and specifically tailoring your workspace and process to account for them while being kind to yourself when you find yourself struggling, can allow you to create with a lot less frustration.

None of these changes will happen instantaneously, but hopefully being aware of them and making the effort over time will help you to start seeing a difference in your work. Good luck!

#adhd #asd #actually adhd #actually autistic #autism #Brady answers #tips

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

Text

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls.

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift.

A day that feels like it may never end until it does.

Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle.

10 letters

1. down - crater creator.

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords.

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic.

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave."

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can.

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best.

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner.

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her.

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out."

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore.

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke."

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme.

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers.

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering.

"Y/N."

Beautiful name. It suits her.

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?"

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior.

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge?

Mitch gives him the all-clear.

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met.

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way.

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him.

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can.

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day.

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though.

He's always thorough, a perfectionist.

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace.

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family.

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness.

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away.

"Harry."

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?"

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.

"It was her idea."

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me."

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so.

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his.

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?"

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently.

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out.

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet.

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside.

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents."

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in.

"We'll take care of it." He assures them.

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go."

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside.

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out.

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later.

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing.

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off.

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in.

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff.

"You got it."

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire.

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!"

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment.

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down."

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure.

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform.

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers.

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face.

"Good."

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience.

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him.

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe."

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness.

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident."

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out."

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about.

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted.

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being."

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end.

"Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated.

His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later.

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job.

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third.

Although he hopes under better circumstances.

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to.

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one.

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five.

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back.

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall.

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it.

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten.

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie.

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out.

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you.

He's a hopeless romantic.

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her.

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's.

A safe haven.

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth.

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face.

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being.

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her.

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for.

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate.

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing."

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states.

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her."

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests.

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers."

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?"

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah."

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her.

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates.

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does.

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second.

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie.

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do.

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear.

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all.

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you."

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers.

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them.

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?"

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect."

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees.

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one."

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it.

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame."

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier."

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously.

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting."

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way.

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now.

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has.

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry."

She's out of sight in the next few seconds.

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention.

Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?"

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off.

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough.

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge."

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good.

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins.

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good."

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents.

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out.

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out.

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries."

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher.

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life.

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly.

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N.

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine.

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again.

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him.

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back.

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries.

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset."

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems.

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance.

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her.

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers."

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go.

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority.

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do.

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay.

Harry is pacing outside her door.

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door.

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him.

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with."

"It was two, really." Harry jokes.

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands.

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment.

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you."

"Fair enough."

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do.

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen.

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already.

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date.

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me."

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay."

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all."

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for.

"You loved the cookies?" She asks.

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze.

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night."

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this."

"Good to know."

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together.

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain.

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything."

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind."

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her.

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it.

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old.

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others.

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different.

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so.

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does.

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry.

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night.

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door.

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door.

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?"

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel.

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises.

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet."

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?"

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better."

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception."

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting."

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before.

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited.

thank you so much for reading! i love you

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audreydoeskaren · 4 years ago

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Abridged history of early 20th century Chinese womenswear (part 1: 1890s & 1900s) *improved version

Source here

*I’m fixing and reposting the first two posts of this series because back then I had no idea how Tumblr formatting functioned and they deserve better. I’m keeping the shoddy original versions for archival purposes.

*After some thought I think it makes more sense to group the 1890s and 1900s together.