#emotional bids

[discluded]

I don't think we realize how huge it is for someone as guarded as apo to consider mile as a comfort zone. He would have to feel so loved, safe, and understood for him to allow such vulnerability around mile. Its a big impact for anyone to have a comfort zone. Its also not a surprise because we can see how mile treats apo like he hung up the stars and moon such sweetness like apo deserves nothing but tenderly love lol and I know miles feels the same with how open he lets himself be around apo.

haha... what if i cried. how would y'all stop me.

No but really it's so sweet. Mile is super super attentive to Apo's feelings... early on (Filmania) there was an interview where Mile knocked this toy out of Apo's hand with his own toy and Apo looked crest fallen and Mile corrected his behavior pretty quickly after that. The way he's so gentle with Apo...Apo is very gentle and attentive to Mile too 😭

Actually I saw this post earlier this week around the same time these anons came in , and it fits.

These bidding interactions had profound effects on marital well-being. Couples who had divorced after a six-year follow-up had “turn-toward bids” 33 percent of the time. Only three in 10 of their bids for emotional connection were met with intimacy. The couples who were still together after six years had “turn-toward bids” 87 percent of the time. Nine times out of 10, they were meeting their partner’s emotional needs.

[providencereiki]

The Little Things That Make or Break Relationships

Life is often about the little things, especially in relationships. People want to know they matter and are important to us, and little things go a long way toward achieving that goal. How do you respond when the people in your life make bids and connection attempts toward you at random times throughout your days? Do you move closer or further in those moments? How does it feel when you move…

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[rodolfoparras]

What about old man reader?? Idk maybe with price or other CoD characters

Can I just say before I wrote this I was profusely apologizing bc no matter how much I loved the concept of old man reader I couldn’t conjure up a piece for it and as I was apologizing I went “but I’d love for someone to write old man reader with price…” and I kept talking until it actually turned into a Drabble I cannot 😭

Now this isn’t like my old man price drabbles bc I feel like if I were try to recreate? The idea you’d just get the same Drabble but in a different form so yeah 🏃🏻‍♂️

Thinking about price meeting a Captain from another squad which is you, and whatever he feels in your presence he chalks up to admiration.

You’ve had a long and successful career in the army it’s no wonder he would admire a man like you at least that’s what he says to soap when the Scotsman teases him about his little crush on you

However no matter how much he wants it to be just admiration he can’t help but think how attractive you look taking charge whether it be in a debriefing, out on the filed or even during a training session with your team

And sure while he can say that he’s just honored that such a busy man like you wants to spend your free time with him, he cant help but also feel something akin to butterflies in his stomach when you peak your head into his office offering to take him to wherever his heart may desire to go that day

And sure while it’s your job to care for everyone in your squad he can’t help but feel his neck and cheeks burn when you have a protective arm around his waist, or when you press your chest flush against his back to cover for him, or when your eyes intensely follow his form while the two of you are out on a mission

Eventually it all bubbles over one late night in his office, when he’s pushing his chair away from the pile of paper work the two of you had been doing, fingers rubbing at his temple to ease the headache that’s making itself known and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease up the knots.

You see this and immediately offer to massage him but he vehemently denies your offer, feeling his neck ears and cheeks burn at the sheer thought of it. However you beg him to let you help telling him that you know how things can ache when you get to that age while rolling your chair over to him.

When he turns his head to meet your gaze, ready to explain how you’re not that old, he realizes just how close you are now, a hair, if not less than that, away from your lips.

And before you know of it, the two of you kiss and kiss and kiss. You easily scoop him up in your arms and carry him over to the couch that he keeps in his office and god if he doesn’t preen at how easily you pick him up, almost like he weights nothing before you put him down gently like he’s made of glass, like he didn’t kill men with his bare hands

And before you even think of seeing him naked you touch and press every sensitive spot on his body leaving him shaking in the sheets like you’ve already wrecked him.

Spitball w/ me?

[tuesdaygray]

no because tashi's "we're just talking about tennis right now" and lily's "you're always talking about tennis" vs patrick's "are we talking about tennis?" and tashi's "we're always talking about tennis" vs patrick's "we're not talking about tennis" and art's "what the fuck else do i have to talk to you about?" literally makes me nauseous

[sneeb-canons]

I've decided to overanalyse them again and put them in a different fandom situation.

IF HMS WOULD GET GET MANIPULATED BY A FOUR-DIMENSIONAL, BIRTH-DEFECTED TRIANGLE!

Mind is most likely to. It would take him a while, but he would cave, if Bill had the patience to work with him. He would cave because Bill promised him the thing he wants most: power and recognition from the other two. Being promised that he'd finally be recognised as important to Soul and not as an annoyance to Heart, made him accept the deal.

Heart would, but Bill would have to do it based on his insecurities. Heart is more mentally guarded and would probably deny any promises that Bill would give him. Until Bill would use his emotional instability against him, making Heart deal with him in an attempt to prove him wrong.

Bill would try to team up with Soul, since they both have the ability to see through different timelines. Soul would rather die than accept this, though he knows the offer is tempting. Bill's numerous attempts to get the (arguably) strongest side as an ally would all go to nothing, as Soul would usually yell or threaten death.

Headcanon #759

[redacted-coiner]

All of these are BIID/BID

Flag Sets: One, Two, and Three

DNI is listed within my pinned post. Please go read it before interacting with any part of my content. Ask to tag!

THIS IS NOT A RADQUEER FRIENDLY POST

@satyrradio

[megamindsupremacy]

Just had the mental image of Core Four Just absolutely losing it to “man or muppet”. Everybody screaming the lyrics. Bart and Cassie clutching onto each other dramatically. Tim sobbing in a corner. Kon on his knees hands in the air going AM I A MAAAAAAN OR AM I A MUPPET

[amummy]

This is a miquella supporting blog, miquella haters don’t interact (I’m kidding idc who or what you like or dislike)

[ryuuka-balaen]

a reminder for anyone that finds they struggle to make friends or to keep relationships of any kind with other people; you need to respond positively to someone's emotional bids to build a connection with them

if you aren't familiar with the concept of emotional bids, I don't feel wordy enough to do the explanation justice right now but you should google it and be aware of the concept - that goes for everyone. I think it's a good thing for anyone to know

[lemonmancer]

soft 

[desiredcrescent]

look i know mechanics wise you cant cast spells and rage as a barbarian but I'm deciding rn to take issue with that for my own silly reasons!!!

Farryn's turn to being a lot more aggressive in combat as he hit level 12 is a reflection on his approaches to survival and I think it'd be cool as shit if I was able to take a level in barbarian ok,,,

The highly indulgent wip I have sitting in my documents where he finally breaks, yelling and feral as everything mounted on his shoulders is too much! He never wanted to be a hero, he wanted to survive, to avoid conflict at all costs and have a chance at truly living without impossible weight on his shoulders.

He finally spills the truth in a way that hurts him more than anything else and... it's Karlach that coaches him through it as he's recklessly flinging off spells, emotions overwhelming and rage burning through him. She teaches him how to weaponise it, sate it and ultimately control it.

Instead, the once over cautious sorcerer who exclusively cast spells at a distance, who focused on being as far away from enemies and companions as possible, finds himself with a new repertoire of spells at his disposal.

Shocking Grasp

Burning Hands

Thunderwave

Fear

Spells that require him to be in close quarters, that demand he's being focused upon as he now fights in order to survive

[gaythreadrunner]

oh man. ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man

[isa-ah]

when uve laid in bed waiting to fall asleep so long u realize ur twenty minutes into an imaginary diatribe to apologize to an old coworker thru ur steam friends list that u haven't spoken to in 8 years over a single vaguely faux paus interaction you had that youve never forgotten

[sneeb-canons]

mind generally feels little to no emotion except sometimes when he just explodes (usually with anger)

Headcanon #59

[deinony]

...,