#forced myself to write even when i didnt want to

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

just realized that i was being so damn unkind to myself while writing first son au

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Contemplating the concept of "potential" when it comes to intelligence and realizing how heartbreaking Logan's "Dreams come true, that's news to me" line in the Crofters Musical.

[gf2bellamy]

Just watched s2 ep14&15 and when I tell you I cried my eyes out I mean it. Poor baby has to go through so much and alone and all the flashbacks😭😭😭😭. What hurt more was that he had to hide his drug addiction.

So for my mental peace could you write a fic where in female!reader x spencer (established relationship) where she immediately runs to him when they hear the gunshot not caring about precautions and gives him the biggest, protective hug and Spencer just just won't let her go and she wouldn't pull away too and when they reach back home she goes to his place and he breaks down in her arms and tells her everything and she stays with him the whole night everyday helping him through his addiction and withdrawals.

I know it's super long request 😭😭😭😭. Feel free to ignore it though. Love you and your writing! ♥️

Now I'm gonna cry myself I guess, wohoo😶‍🌫️

aftermath — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , spencer having withdrawals, mentions of tobias' body ( and tobias himself ) , mention of guns and dilaudid , spencer and reader both cry a/n: hii ! hope you like this <3 this hurt my heart i'm ngl - i didnt rewatch the entire ep and instead just watched clips on youtube so if i got anything wrong lmk

The world stopped the moment the gunshot cracked through the air.

It was like someone had ripped the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you hollow, suspended in a single, suffocating second. Your brain short-circuited, thoughts reduced to a frantic, broken chant no no no no no.

And then you were running.

The graveyard was a sea of shadows, the cold night air biting at your skin as you sprinted blindly between the headstones. Somewhere behind you, Hotch was shouting your name, but it barely registered.

The only thing that mattered was Spencer.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Your voice was raw, frantic. The syllables tore from your throat as you stumbled forward, feet crunching against the dirt and fallen leaves.

The images wouldn’t stop—the live feed flashing before your eyes, Tobias Hankel standing over Spencer, the way he had grabbed Spencer. The moment the screen cut to black, leaving only suffocating silence.

You weren’t sure if the trembling was from the cold or the fear or both. But then—then you saw him.

Spencer. Standing. Alive.

His body rigid, unmoving, as he stood over Tobias Hankel’s lifeless form. His shoulders heaved with each breath, the gun still clutched in his shaking hands.

You didn’t hesitate. You ran to him, feet barely touching the ground, and when you reached him, you collapsed into him with all the force of your desperation.

He froze.

For one agonizing second, he was still, his entire frame wound tight with tension. But then his arms came around you, clutching, grasping—his fingers twisted into the fabric of your jacket. He pressed himself against you, as if trying to mold himself into your skin, as if fearing that if he let go, you would disappear.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely more than a breath. The words burned in your throat, strangled by the lump of tears you hadn’t even realized you were holding back.

Spencer didn’t say anything. He just held you. Tightly. Desperately.

Like if he held on hard enough, maybe he could push away the horrors of what had just happened. Like if he crushed you close enough, maybe he could become part of you, escape himself for just a moment.

You could hear the rest of the team arriving. They didn’t pull you away and they didn’t tell Spencer to let go.

Spencer wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t. Not that you wanted him to let go.

His fingers were still twisted into your jacket, holding on with a force that felt desperate, almost painful. His whole body trembled against yours, breaths uneven, shallow, like he was trying to convince himself he was still here. That you were still here.

You tightened your arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his damp, disheveled curls. You felt the way he shuddered under your touch, a broken sound escaping from somewhere deep in his chest.

Spencer still hadn’t spoken. He just held you, clung to you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

So you stayed. You stayed in the middle of that graveyard, with the smell of gunpowder still lingering in the air.

Slowly—so slowly—his breathing evened out. His fingers unclenched slightly, though he still refused to release you. And then, finally, his voice, rough and barely audible, whispered against your skin:

"You came."

As if there had ever been any other option.

You tightened your hold on him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, your reply muffled but unwavering. "Always."

You weren’t entirely sure when you stopped hugging.

Everything was a blur, a hazy, disjointed mess of moments slipping through your fingers like sand. It felt like you were barely in your body, like you were watching yourself move from somewhere far away.

At some point, you ended up in the car.

You didn’t remember how you got there—whether someone guided you or if your feet had just carried you on their own. The only thing that mattered was that Spencer was with you.

The car was silent. The hum of the engine was distant, muffled, as if you were underwater.

Your hand was in Spencer’s, fingers entwined, his grip loose but persistent—like he was afraid to hold too tightly but even more afraid to let go. He leaned against you, head resting against your shoulder, his body barely moving. He didn’t speak. Didn’t shift. Didn’t react to anything around him.

He just clung to you. And you let him.

You didn’t break the quiet. What was there to say?

The words would have been hollow, anyway—useless against the enormity of what had almost happened.

Occasionally, a tear would escape, tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek. You didn’t wipe it away. You just pressed a kiss to the top of Spencer’s head, your lips lingering in his tousled hair, breathing him in like a reminder—he’s here, he’s alive.

And when his grip tightened, when his breath hitched almost imperceptibly, you murmured it into the space between you: "You’re safe now."

A promise. A plea. A prayer.

Spencer didn’t respond. But he held on a little tighter.

Hotch drove you to Spencer’s apartment in silence.

You managed to give him a small, strained smile as you stepped out of the car—though you weren’t entirely sure it even registered as one.

But Hotch understood. He always did. With a barely perceptible nod, he lingered just long enough to ensure you both made it inside before pulling away.

As you stepped inside, Spencer was still eerily quiet. His hand was still in yours—or maybe yours was in his. You weren’t entirely sure anymore. Neither of you had let go, and at this point, you weren’t sure who was holding onto whom.

The apartment felt different. Usually, it was a place of comfort. But tonight, it felt hollow.

You weren’t sure what to say, and honestly, you were afraid that if you tried, you’d break. That the moment words left your lips, you’d start sobbing, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

Instead, you focused on the mundane, the mechanical—the things you could control.

Gently, you helped him out of his dirt-streaked jacket, your fingers brushing over the fabric, lingering on the faint traces of dust and dried blood. Your throat tightened, but you swallowed it down, hanging the jacket up.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow, you’d wash it. Tomorrow, you’d erase the evidence of tonight.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you whispered. You weren’t sure why you whispered.

Spencer shook his head.

“Okay,” you murmured, soft as a sigh. “That’s fine.”

The paramedics had already taken care of his injuries, cleaned the gash on his forehead, patched up the cuts and bruises along his body. But they couldn’t do anything for the way he felt.

So you did the only thing you could. You took his hand again and gently pulled him toward the bedroom.

He didn’t resist. Didn’t say a word. Just followed.

Usually, you would have made a teasing remark about how cute it was that Spencer kept following you around.

Because he did—a lot.

Just last week, he had hovered around you the entire time you were making breakfast, standing so close that every time you turned, you nearly bumped into him. You had giggled, playfully nudging him away, but he had just smiled that shy little smile of his and stayed right where he was.

Now, the memory carved a hollow ache in your chest.

Because now, this wasn’t the same.

Now, he wasn’t following you because he wanted to be near you. He was following you because he needed to. Because if he let go, if he lost contact with you for even a second, he might slip away entirely.

You pulled one of his sweaters from the dresser. Turning, you found him standing too close, his hands clenched at his sides, still wearing the vest that smelled of gunpowder and damp earth.

"Can I?" you asked softly, fingers brushing the edge of the blood-red fabric.

Spencer's gaze flickered up to yours—just for a second—but it was enough. His lips trembled. His breath hitched.

Your hand was on his cheek before you could think, thumb swiping away a tear before it could fall.

That was all it took.

A shattered gasp tore from his throat, raw and broken, and then he was collapsing against you, his entire body wracked with sobs. You caught him without hesitation, arms locking around him as his knees gave way.

"I thought—" His voice was fractured, muffled against your shoulder. "He made me choose, and I—I couldn't—"

You cradled the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Words poured out of him like a flood—Tobias's taunts, the cold press of the gun, the paralyzing fear of being forced to decide who lived or died. His hands clutched at your shirt as he spoke.

"I kept thinking of you," he choked out, the words raw and fractured. "If I died there—if you had to watch—"

You squeezed your eyes shut against the image, your stomach twisting violently. Just the thought of it—of seeing that live feed cut to static, of waiting for news that never came, of losing him in the cruelest way imaginable—made your hands tighten instinctively around him, as if you could physically shield him from the memory.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please, don't—"

But he kept going, the words tumbling out like he'd been holding them back for hours. "I kept seeing your face. I kept thinking—God, I kept thinking about how you'd be the one they'd call. How you'd have to—" His breath hitched, a ragged sob tearing through him. "How you'd have to identify me."

A wounded noise escaped you before you could stop it. Your fingers curled into his hair, pressing yourself tighter against him as if you could fuse the horror out of him through sheer proximity.

"But you didn't," you said fiercely. "You're here. You're alive. You came back to me."

Spencer shuddered, his hands gripping your arms like a lifeline. "I almost didn't."

The quiet admission shattered something in you.

You pulled him closer, your lips pressing against his temple, his cheek, anywhere you could reach—as if you could kiss the pain out of him, as if you could rewrite the last few hours with nothing but your touch.

"But you did."

You swallowed back the sob clawing at your throat, pressing your lips together to keep it from escaping—but the tears came anyway, silent and relentless, spilling over as you carded your fingers through his hair.

Each stroke was a silent plea. I’m here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.

But the more you touched him—the more you felt the way his breath hitched under your palms, the way his shoulders trembled against you—the harder it became to hold yourself together.

His hand was still clinging to your clothes, fingers twisted into the fabric so tightly that you were sure the wrinkles in your shirt would never come out.

But as he continued speaking, something in the back of your mind stirred, and it hit you like a slap.

Spencer wasn’t sober yet.

The paramedics had warned you. They had told you that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. That the drugs still lingered in his system, and that within the next hour, he’d likely start feeling the withdrawals. His shaking wasn’t just from fear or trauma—it was the first signs of what was to come.

Spencer stopped talking.

His words trailed off before he got to the part where he’d killed Tobias Hankel.

He was so shaky in your arms now, and you could feel the tension in his muscles, like he was about to collapse, like his body couldn’t handle any more of this. You weren’t even entirely sure how you were managing to hold him up. Your own legs felt weak, your arms trembling from the strain, but you kept him steady, keeping him as close to you as you could.

You stayed the entire night. Not that you could sleep anyway.

He was still in your arms when you went to bed, his body trembling against you, and you were doing your best to stay calm. Your hand continued to gently brush through his hair, a small, consistent motion that, in some way, calmed both of you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body was fighting against the withdrawal.

The withdrawals were bad. Worse than you had imagined.

Spencer was trying so hard. You could see it in his face—tight with strain, eyes glazed with discomfort, tears streaking down his face, though he didn’t make a sound. His body was shaking uncontrollably now.

The tears that streaked down his cheeks broke something inside of you. But you didn’t let go. You wiped them away with your thumb, whispering soft reassurances even though you weren’t sure if he could hear you, even though you weren’t sure if they made a difference.

It was hard. Watching him go through this, knowing how much pain he was in. How much more he still had to face.

But you also knew that if he could fight through this, even just tonight, it would mean everything.

The night stretched on like that.

One moment he was burning up, his skin fever-hot beneath your palms. The next, he was shaking violently. You smoothed back his damp hair, murmuring nonsense comforts against his temple as he curled into you, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I'm here," you whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, pressing a kiss to his head. "You're doing so good, Spencer. So good."

Somewhere around 3 AM, he'd stopped fighting consciousness.

The moment his body finally gave out had been both heartbreaking and relieving - his muscles going slack all at once, his head lolling heavily against your shoulder. You'd adjusted carefully, shifting just enough to pull the blanket over his shaking limbs without disturbing him.

Now, with morning creeping through the blinds, you studied the way the light caught on the healing cut above his eyebrow, the bruises along his jawline turning from angry purple to dull yellow at the edges. Your thumb hovered over them, not touching, just tracing the air above the evidence of his suffering.

You watched the way his eyelashes fluttered with dreams you hoped weren't violent, the way his lips parted slightly with each exhale.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position. His fingers, even in sleep, twitched against the fabric of your shirt, as if making sure you were still there.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, watching over him, listening to his breaths as morning slowly filled the room.

Eventually, you felt yourself start to drift, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

But just before sleep could pull you under, Spencer stirred. His voice was barely audible, hoarse from everything his body had endured.

“…You’re still here?”

The words were so soft, so vulnerable, that they nearly shattered you.

You tightened your hold on him, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

“Always,” you whispered.

And with that, he sighed—a slow, tired sound yet filled with relief.

The road back to normal wasn’t easy—not by a long shot. If anything, there were more nights like that one than you could’ve prepared for.

Nights filled with restless sleep, quiet tears, and Spencer clinging to you like you were the only thing tethering him to reality. Healing didn’t come in a straight line.

But slowly—so slowly—it got better.

There were mornings when he smiled before he even opened his eyes. Afternoons when you caught him humming to himself while flipping through one of his worn-out paperbacks. Little things.

Beautiful, quiet victories.

And then, one day, without thinking, you found yourself teasing him again when he followed you from room to room like a lost puppy—hovering behind you as you made coffee, bumping into you in the hallway, trailing your every step just to stay close.

He blushed, like he always did, and mumbled something about spatial awareness. But when you laughed and tugged him close, he smiled for real—soft and shy, but full of something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

Hope.

[kroosluvr]

aftermath

ERMMM this takes place after long winter au third semester.... it could honestly vary but i think sometime btwn 5-10 yrs. sumire is abroad, akira moved back to tokyo after finishing hs/college, goro is. around

SORRY ITS 5am again so ill make this quick . again

QUICK DISCLAIMER this is kinda like a lot of me projecting LMFAOSDOGKJSDHFK@#)40 so like dont read into this tooooo much bc idk royaltrio cld be insnanely ooc here but. YEA.

started thinking abt akira constantly calling up goro and sumire even after 1) goro dies (so they think) and 2) sumire distances herself post-third sem. i elaborate on this on my shusumi fic........ sorry subtle shilling

^ tldr i think these 3 kinda drift apart after the snowglobe world crumbles, that false reality that ironically brought them so close together..... back in reality, things feel Different (but this is Our reality right? why does it feel so strange now?) and so. well its just not the same, no amtter what

the. the “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there” tumblr post

even though they loved each other and knew it too, there was also some sort of looming feeling that it won't last - but it does, still. it exists, in some meaningful sense-

akira sees and thinks about sumire and goro in everything he does, his day to day life, worries about them, wants to tell them about all he's doing, wants to hear about what they're up to. so he does so by leaving voicemails (although in this case sumire changed her number LMFAO. he does it anyway)

in the same vein, sumire thinks about all the things she'd like to tell goro, but with no address to send it to, it's useless. but she writes them anyway - more and more as a solace to herself, conversing with the memory of goro in her head, making him live on in that sense. and with akira i think it's a little more subtle. here she's trying to find a coffee shop that measures up to lebalnc, and of course she doesn't. there's only one leblanc and only one akira. but yeah like in sumire's case she kinda goes these "roundabout" ways in her Missing Them. theres also the added thing of her wanting to be more independent (from goro and akira and kasumi and tokyo and etc etc etc. also elaborated on in said fic)

goro! i think there's smth so poignant about visiting your own grave (i wrote sumire doing htis in another fic. thats an aside) hair cut, mask on, no gloves, he's a different sort of goro akechi but not really in any meaningful sense either. he's just different. sumire leaves the scarf (i think w sumire, she learns from goro like. omg im blanking on the word. LIKE reliability..? thinking realistically? smth like that.) so shes subconsciously thinks oh ill get him something useful like a scarf to keep warm (and a lil more subtle on the love aspect). akira gets him a lovely bouquet, straightforward and honest w his love/adoration, never afraid to spell it out. smth abt goro needing to live a new life now but also he keeps looking back - but this time, there's love when he looks back. there's still love

a kind of "youll always have home with me" sentiment btwn these 3. even if we never return there, youll still have a place in my heart

like "i dont think ill ever have that kind of love again. but i had it once. and even if i couldnt keep it, its still important." THIS IS HARD TO EXPLAIN

anyway tldr theres just some sentiment w royaltrio w Wanting to move on but also holding onto your past, and learning how to reconcile with the horrible parts but also the tender and lovely parts. sometimes there's stuff you gotta leave behind and grow past, grow around, even if it's good. even if it's good, you still have to push forward. <- a lesson that i'm trying to teach myself currently so thats why this is very. projecting. LMFAODSJKHJKSDKW sorry im crnge goodnight

these notes are horrible dont read these.

[pullupinarari]

lewis said smth hurtful, went out to work. reader got injured and didnt tell him thinking he's not in a mood. so she called her sister/bsf instead to send her to a clinic/hospital. she downplays her injury and still prepared dinner for lewis, not staying to eat with him tho. thinking he needs time away from her.

omg im so sorry if this is too long of a an idea for a blurb </3

a/n: this is insanely long for a "blurb" lol i'm so sorry, you know i get carried away when it comes to angst and i literally had to stop myself from continue writing this 😭 hope you enjoy!! 🩷

In the middle of all the chaos surrounding your day, after kicking off your morning with a very stressful meeting with your boss at work, you thought things couldn’t get any worse - but you were wrong, so wrong. 

During your lunch break, you met your boyfriend that was already at your place, preparing lunch for the both of you. He met you with a kind smile, but it was already too late: the agitating tension was already emanating from your body, matching the screaming headache that started growing and decided not to stop bothering you for the past couple of hours.

You’re sighing loud, stomping around the house, not even daring to meet his eyes as you don’t even have the strength inside of you to force a smile on your lips. No matter how sweet his gestures might be, you just wish you could be alone, now - enjoying your break in peace, trying to forget about all the stress that your boss caused in your mind, anger boiling in your veins every time you even think about it. 

Lewis is trying his best to stay silent, giving you space as he can feel the storm forming above your head, ready to hit at any moment now. The man gently stirs the food in the pot, grabbing a dish to serve it. 

You finally sit down, grabbing your fork to start eating, not even acknowledging your boyfriend, not looking at him, not even muttering a ‘thank you’ for his thoughtful actions. 

- Thought I would make your favorite dish, trying to light up your day a bit more. - Lewis carefully said, his voice sounding quiet yet sweet, realizing now that he had that thought in mind, while being completely unaware of your angry state.

You just hum at his words, your eyes focused on your dish as you don’t even waste a second to reply to him. Your brain feels heavy inside your head, feeling like it’s fighting an internal battle with itself, the carousel of intrusive thoughts stepping on your skin, the annoyance jumping in your bones. You just don’t have it in yourself to talk right now. 

Your boyfriend frowns, letting out a small sigh as well, picking his food. He knows that you’re not in the best of moods right now, but he hates seeing you like this and feeling like he can’t do anything about it. He just wants to comfort you, to help you in any way. 

Cleaning his throat, his courageous side decides to speak up again.

- I was thinking about leaving work a bit earlier today. Maybe we could go for a walk downtown, and watch the Christmas lights? - your boyfriend suggests again, only to be met with a furious huff erupting from your body. - No, thank you. I just want to be alone today. - your harsh words hit him like a ton of bricks, sensing his feelings shatter like they’re made of glass, each tiny piece invading his insides, cutting right through his heart. 

You didn’t mean for your words to sound so mean. But you would expect him to understand, from the first sigh that left your mouth the second that you stormed inside the house, that today it’s a ‘no’ day for you. You just wanted him to stop pushing it when you’re clearly not willing to give back to him. 

And Lewis might be understanding, but he won’t shut up and take whatever you throw at him. 

- I know you’re upset, but that is not my fault. I wasn’t the one making you angry, so I shouldn’t be the one getting all this backlash from you. - he tries to reason, his own tone sounding colder now, feeling something shifting inside of him after hearing the way you spoke to him.

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips again, your figure moving on its own as you get up from your seat at the table. 

- I’m not hungry anymore. - you state, throwing your fork into the plate, turning your back on your boyfriend as you leave the kitchen. 

He stops eating as well, rolling his eyes at your childish attitude before letting a deep breath out. 

- Call me when you decide to stop acting like a kid! - he shouts from the kitchen, grabbing his belongings and reaching for the door, slamming it behind him once he leaves. 

You heard his words, loud and clear. They made sure to enter your brain, moving by themselves while working to emphasize your rage even more, your fists closing as your nails start digging on the skin into the palm of your hand, trying to distract you from the riot happening in your mind, right now. 

Truth be told, you and Lewis have only been dating for a year and a half. Everything still feels very recent, very fresh - and your communication as a couple isn’t definitely at its finest, that’s for sure. 

You’re both adults, but you’re still learning the best ways to deal with each other, especially in situations like these. 

Lewis knew it. He knew it, from the moment he saw you walking inside the house, looking like a tornado had just hit, that you had turned into a raging storm, and he had no doubt that, sooner or later, you would wreck the environment around you. 

He is not used to seeing you act this way, though. It’s not usual for you to blow up in his face, such a rare event that this attitude of yours makes him wonder. Wondering what happened for you to lose your cool, for you to take it out on him. The thoughts keep pacing on the back of his mind while he drives, questioning if, maybe, you have been a storm all this time.

The fact that you keep thinking that you’re always right, doesn’t help. No matter how Lewis tries, it seems like you can’t accept that, sometimes, you are the one in the wrong. 

Like now. You blew up on your boyfriend without him having any fault of the way your boss ruined your entire day with a meeting. And still, here you are: stomping your feet around the house like a sulking kid, slamming doors, throwing away everything that reaches your fingers, in a thoughtless act of childishness, of unsolved problems that you hold with your own emotions. 

“What a stupid day. What a stupid meeting. What a fucking stupid fight” - you think to yourself, trying to let go of all the events that just took place during the first half of your day, gathering your belongings to go back to work. 

As you are coming downstairs, your face is buried on your phone as you text your co-worker, and your foot accidentally slipped on one of Roscoe’s squishy toys that was left forgotten on your stairs. 

Losing your balance, you fall on the stairs, your heels not helping your case as you could feel your entire foot spraining. You grab your foot, biting down your lip hard to prevent you from screaming due to the agonizing pain that seems to be travelling through your own body now.

Grabbing your phone, you decide to call your sister, telling her that you had an accident, asking her to take you to the hospital.

There’s no point in calling Lewis - he probably doesn’t even care that you just fell down the stairs, he definitely is not in the mood to deal with your whiny state, after all the bullshit that you just pulled on him. 

It’s just a sprained ankle, after all. You and your sister didn’t even have to stay in the hospital for long - and during the time that you were there, he didn’t call, he didn’t text you. He didn’t reach to talk to you, to try and see if you were feeling better, if you were finally able to talk it out.

You know you are asking for too much on his part, though. You definitely wouldn’t be ready to say a word if it wasn’t for your injury now, that made your boiling anger soften a bit more, making you reconsider everything that happened. 

But still, you don’t have the courage to reach him either. You’re not trying to run from all your emotional pain, you are just now noticing the guilt that’s possessing you. 

And it’s not just today. It’s not just your bad mood, or the way you turned your back on him today. However, it is the way your boyfriend seems to constantly get caught in the midst of your insecure winds that tend to wrap him, tagging him along with your thoughts and paranoia, breaking him down - even if he doesn’t realize it sometimes. 

You have been trying your best to carry all the weight of the things that you should’ve left in the past but that, somehow, still haunt you today. Putting on a façade, your heart always hurts the most at 3 am, when you’re alone or when Lewis is fast asleep, not even hearing your sounds. 

Trying your best to ignore the pain on your foot, you stand in the kitchen now, cooking your boyfriend’s favorite dish - mirroring the exact same gesture that he had for lunch, showing just how much acts of service is your love language.

Your heart races, anxiety running through you as you pray that he still decides to show up for dinner, hoping he can be capable of giving you a second chance today. You’re definitely not ready to go to sleep angry at him, definitely not sure if you can face another day alone, with the weight of your actions weighing heavy on your soul, even if you are just a victim of circumstances as well.

Taking a deep breath, you decide that this needs to change. You need to take accountability for each one of your storms, before it’s too late - before you lose the man who made you fall head over heels for him. You dread the thought of seeing Lewis turning your back at you as he leaves your life, praying that he doesn’t decide to leave before he gets to know you, the real you. 

A wave of relief washes over you as you hear the front door of your house open, signaling that Lewis decided, indeed, to show up again.

The man almost tiptoes his way to where you stand, next to the oven. He keeps his distance, silently watching you, as if he is trying to see through you, analyzing your mood, trying to understand if you’re still mad. 

You feel softer, with sadness just rushing inside your veins due to everything that took place today. You look at Lewis from the corner of your eye, not ready to break the deafening silence that’s surrounding both of your figures now - scared that you might fuck it up again. 

As you walk around to finish his food, Lewis raises an eyebrow when he sees you limping around the kitchen. His eyes follow your body, focusing on the bandage that’s tightly wrapped around your ankle now.

Concern takes care of his form now, making him kill the quiet bubble that you’re both in. 

- What’s wrong with your foot? - he questions, his voice sounding worried, but not as sweet as it used to, before. 

There’s still remains of bitterness throbbing in his chest from all the things that were said and done, but he would never, ever, not worry about you.

You shrug, downplaying what happened to you just a few hours ago.

- Just a sprained ankle, nothing much. Dinner is ready, it’s your favorite, I hope you enjoy it. - you can feel your voice trembling as you move to leave the kitchen, slowly walking your way to the living room, trying to lay on the sofa as you don’t have the courage to sit next to Lewis now. 

You can’t even look at his face, let alone inside his eyes - afraid of the feelings that you might find inside of his wounded heart. Your brain keeps whispering sweet lies to you, making you believe each one of them. And maybe what your mind tells you is true. Maybe Lewis needs some time away from you, maybe he doesn’t like this side of you just he is slowly uncovering, maybe he is rethinking a future by your side. 

You love him still, you always will. But you can’t do this by yourself, you don’t want to do life alone, but you just need to learn how to respect his decision, if he ends up leaving you for good. 

Lewis is still in the kitchen, his eyebrows knitted together as he tries to puzzle together everything that happened today. His main focus is still your injury - why did you hurt yourself and why didn’t you call him? Not even wanting to tell him what happened. And why the hell won’t you stay to have dinner with him, after cooking it?

Reaching for the living room, he takes a seat next to you, looking you in the eyes now, as his fingers slowly caress your cheek - forgetting about the fight, about the bad mood, about the stomping and sighing. His baby is hurt, and he just wants to take care of you, to be here for you. 

His silky touch is enough to make some small tears appear in the corner of your eyes, now. 

- What’s wrong, my love? I’m here to listen - his tone sounding like honey now, hitting you right in the core, softening immediately in front of him. 

A knot forms in your throat as you try your best not to cry. 

- I’m sorry about exploding in your face, this morning. I’m sorry about this side of me that I don’t really know how to tame. It really wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have- - you start rambling, wanting to say everything at the same time, afraid that you might run out of time, afraid that Lewis might not want to hear what you have to say anymore.  - I just want to say that I understand if you need some time away from me. - you finally admit after taking a deep breath, letting a tear fall free on your cheek. 

Your boyfriend has a confused expression splattered in his face, questioning what kind of chaos has been dominating your head lately. 

- Baby, breathe. And please, stop with the nonsense. What happened to your foot? - he decides to focus on what’s more important, now. - I fell down the stairs - you quietly replied. 

His eyes soften even more at your words, his hand moving to softly massage your hurt foot. You hiss at first, but after a second it helps alleviate the pain that was already reaching the rest of your leg.

Lewis smiles softly as he feels you relaxing at his touch, leaning his body to leave a kiss on your shoulder.

- And why don’t you want to have dinner with me? - he hums softly, applying more soft kisses on your arm, never stopping his massage on your injury. 

An embarrassed sigh escapes you.

- I told you. I think you might need some time away from me.

Lewis slowly shakes his head at your words.

- That’s complete nonsense, my love. I can’t even sleep an entire night without having you wrapped in my arms anymore, you really think I need time away from you? Don’t be silly - he informs you softly, a kind smile playing on his lips. - It’s completely okay and normal to lose our tempers sometimes, baby. It happens to all of us, myself included. And we are going to learn how to deal with all this in the best way we can, yeah? Together. 

You manage to let out a very shy nod at his words, not even knowing what to say to the way he makes you feel so special, loved and cared for. 

His lips finally find yours in a gentle, loving kiss, dancing intertwined for a moment - missing each other terribly. 

- I just want a future with you, my clumsy girl, not time away from you. In fact, I don’t want any kind of life without having you by my side. - he promises, honoring his word with another assuring kiss on your lips, allowing you to finally breathe in the oxygen that he provides you, feeling lighter as you finally wrap your arms around your man’s figure, never letting him go. 

[valkyriexo]

When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Maknae Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; You guys seemed to like the hyung line! Here is the Maknae Version Hyung Line

╰┈➤ Han

Tries to act like nothing’s wrong, but it’s so obvious something is. He still jokes around, still sends you funny messages—but there’s hesitation now, a nervousness in his texts that wasn’t there before.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something weird? Is he being annoying? Are you ignoring him on purpose? His brain runs in circles, making up worst-case scenarios.

Writes songs about it. Instead of telling you how he feels, he pours it all into lyrics....verses full of confessions, frustration, and so much longing.

Tries to distract himself with food and games, but nothing feels the same. Even his favorite snacks taste bland when you’re not there to steal a bite. His high scores don’t feel like victories when you’re not there to celebrate.

Gets weirdly competitive with your S/O—even if they don’t know it. If they post a funny joke, he has to post something funnier. If they do something romantic, he mutters, “I could’ve done it better.”

Has a hard time Dealing with his emotions. Emotions and Han Jisung don’t mix well...so it explodes out of him all at once.

"You’re really just gonna leave me behind like this?"

The words come out sharper than he intended, but he can’t stop them. His usual playfulness is gone.

"I mean, seriously—what happened? One second, we’re fine, and the next, I barely exist to you."

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t text first anymore. You cancel plans. And every time I try to talk to you, it’s like you’re already halfway out the door."

You try to explain, but he just throws his hands up.

"I get it, okay? You have someone now. But did that mean I had to lose you completely?"

His voice is quieter now, but his eyes, usually so full of light, are clouded with something else.

"I was supposed to be that person."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

"You think I didn’t notice? The way I felt whenever you were around? The way I’d drop everything just to see you smile?" He laughs bitterly. "I knew it before I even admitted it to myself."

Then, finally, his voice barely above a whisper—

"But I guess I was too late, huh?"

And for once, Jisung has no joke to cover up the pain.

╰┈➤ Felix

Tries to be supportive, even when it hurts. He forces a smile, tells you he’s happy for you, and pretends like his heart isn’t sinking every time you mention your S/O.

Still checks up on you, even if you don’t check up on him. Sends you little “Did you eat?” or “Get home safe” texts, even when you stop replying as fast as you used to.

Bakes way too much. His kitchen turns into an emotional war zone....cookies, brownies, cakes, anything to keep himself busy. But no matter how many sweets he makes, nothing takes away the bitter feeling in his chest.

Tries to keep up his usual affection, but it feels… different. He hesitates before reaching for a hug, pulls away too quickly, laughs a little softer when you ruffle his hair.

Plays video games as an escape. But even when he wins, it doesn’t feel as satisfying when you’re not there to celebrate with him.

Finally breaks when he realizes you’re truly slipping away. He wanted to be patient, wanted to be the good friend, but that didnt go as planned.

"You don’t need me anymore, do you?"

Felix’s voice is quiet, almost trembling, but his eyes are locked onto yours...searching, begging for an answer he’s afraid to hear.

"I mean… I get it," he laughs weakly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You have someone now. You’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted."

He pauses, swallows hard.

"But… was I ever that important to you?"

Your breath catches, and he takes a shaky step back, hands clenching at his sides.

"Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore." His voice wavers, his deep tone softer than ever. "I’m still here, you know? I still—" He stops himself, letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, almost too soft to hear—

"I still love you."

It’s out before he can take it back, and when he sees your eyes widen, he lets out a small, sad chuckle.

"I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was enough just to be near you. But then you started pulling away, and suddenly, I wasn’t even part of your life anymore."

His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, looking down.

"I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I?"

When he looks back up, his usual warmth is dimmer.

"But it’s too late now, isn’t it?"

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Acts like he doesn’t care—but oh, he cares. His usual teasing gets a little sharper, his sarcasm a little more pointed. He pretends everything is normal, but his eyes tell a different story.

Stops reaching out first. If you want to talk to him, you can text him. (Except he still waits for your messages, still checks his phone way too often, still hopes.)

Gets quieter around you. Normally, he always has a witty remark, a playful jab...but now, there are more pauses, more silences that stretch a little too long.

Starts staying late at practice, distracting himself with work. If he can’t talk to you, he’ll at least be productive about it.

Refuses to admit he’s jealous, even when it’s painfully obvious. If someone points it out, he scoffs, “Jealous? Of what? Please.” (Meanwhile, his grip on his water bottle tightens.)

Finally breaks when he catches you actively avoiding him. He was fine with being second place.....until he realizes he’s not even in the running anymore.

"Are you serious?"

Seungmin’s voice is steady.....too steady. He stares at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something burning behind his eyes.

"So this is how it is now?" He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t even bother pretending anymore, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching.

"You didn’t even notice, did you?" His tone is sharp, but there’s something underneath it...something fragile, something aching.

"I stopped texting first. I stopped calling. I stopped everything just to see if you’d even care. And guess what?" He exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

"You didn’t."

The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

For a second, he looks like he wants to stop himself. Like he wants to shove the words back down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you even know how stupid I feel?" His voice drops lower, quieter. "Standing here, saying all this, when I already know how it ends?"

Then, almost as if the confession is being dragged out of him—

"I liked you, you know."

A bitter smile tugs at his lips.

"Maybe I still do."

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, but his voice stays painfully steady.

"But I’m not going to beg for your attention."

With one last glance...one that lingers just a second too long...he steps back.

"So if you’re going to keep pushing me away, then fine. I’ll stop trying."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Tries to play it cool but completely fails. He acts like everything is fine, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Laughs less around you. Normally, he lights up when you’re near, but now, his laughter feels forced...like he’s just going through the motions.

Overthinks everything. Did he do something wrong? Did he annoy you? Or are you just done with him? His thoughts spiral, but he never asks, too scared of the answer.

Becomes awkwardly formal. Where he used to call you cute nicknames or casually tease you, now it’s just “Oh, hey,” and “Yeah, sure.” Like he’s putting up a wall between you.

Starts avoiding you, even though you’re the one pulling away. If you don’t need him, maybe it’s better if he keeps his distance too. But it hurts more than he thought it would.

He sees you with your S/O and realizes he’s not the person you run to anymore. He wasn’t going to say anything, but his heart doesn’t listen.

"Do you even miss me?"

The question slips out before Jeongin can stop it, and when you turn to look at him, his lips press together like he already regrets saying it.

"Because it really doesn’t feel like you do."

His voice is soft, but there’s a rawness to it....like he’s been holding this in for way too long.

"I get it," he says, forcing a smile. "You’re happy. You have someone now. But..." His voice trails off, and he lets out a small, bitter laugh. "I guess I just didn’t think I’d lose you completely."

You start to say something, but he shakes his head.

"I used to be the one you told everything to. The one who could make you laugh even on your worst days." He swallows hard, voice growing quieter. "Now, I’m just someone you used to be close with, huh?"

He looks away, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together.

"I really liked you, you know."

The confession is barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t even want to hear himself say it.

"But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?"

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[roseboysstuff]

tis' me again, the one and only anon who req the shiro fic 😎 anyways could u write another shiro x ftm reader making out passionately but shiro forgot to put protection bc hes sooooo into it.

Then timeskip to where reader gets preg and Shiro was SUPER DUPER guilty bc he didnt want to add more responsibility to reader bc yknow abt the galra and paladin war stuff... again, u can do this req anytime!! hava good day/night

(i should put a name for myself so i shall b named 🌹 anon!)

OOoooo me likey Shiro is so fun to write

Also I added a cut at the timeskip coz this got long hehe

CW // mentions of vomit, ftm pregnancy

You and Shiro spend many a nights like this. Liplocked, unable to let go of each other. He loved you, you loved him, and there was nothing anyone could do to tear you away from each other.

He loved touching you, everywhere. Your hips, your waist, your thighs. Everywhere that he could touch, he would touch. Mostly because he loved how you felt under his hands. Soft and yielding to his touch, and gods, the noises you made when he squeezed the sensitive parts of your body. How he could reach a hand up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you either further into him. Tangling his fingers gently in your hair to make sure you couldn't escape.

Not that you wanted to. It was your favourite thing. To just be sat on his lap while he made you feel so loved, so wanted, so his.

"Can I, baby boy? I want to... want to make love to you." he would ask, half-pleading, half-tender. And for you, saying no would be denying not only his desires, but yours. You wanted him so badly. So both of your pants were discarded, underwear thrown onto the floor as he lowered you to lie on your back on the couch. Seeing you under him, knowing you were all his, ready for him to make you feel so good. Yeah, it's too much for him.

He would line up his cock with your entrance, smirking at how wet you already were. He's a little smug, but he just loves knowing you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Neither of you remembered protection, but it didn't occur to your lust-addled brains to find a condom. He was focusing on how wet and tight you were, the exquisite clench of your boycunt on his cock, how easily he could just slide in and out, how beautifully you were taking him. And you, you were focusing on how he was stretching you out, the ridges and veins sliding against the walls of your cunt.

It was only when you felt his seed spilling into your deepest parts, that you remembered. But you didn't panic much. It was one time, and you weren't ovulating. No need to worry about getting pregnant... right?

Timeskip ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well now, 4 weeks later, you were bent over a toilet, vomiting your guts up, painful acid and bile forcing it's way up from your stomach.

After emptying your stomach, you assumed you'd caught a bug. But that made no sense, you'd been in space with Shiro and everyone else for months, and no one else had caught anything. Then your gaze fell on the pregnancy tests in the cupboard.

There's no way. Surely.

A few minutes, some peeing on a stick, and a panic attack later, you were sat on the toilet lid, staring at the positive pregnancy test. Part of you was happy, as you had always known that Shiro would be the father of your kids if you had any. But would he be happy with this? Only one way to find out.

Ever the carer, he noticed the tension in your muscles as soon as you walked into his room. But he froze as he looked at what you were showing him. A pregnancy test. Positive.

A baby. His baby. You were pregnant with his baby.

"Oh... baby boy... I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have remembered to wear a condom. You don't need this, you're busy and you're saving us all. You're so amazing, gosh... have I ruined your future?" His words came out all at once, and you had to hug him, to stop him from talking. Blaming him wasn't even on your mind.

"I'm not blaming you, Shiro. I thought you'd be mad at me. I'm more than happy to have and raise this baby... if you want that too?"

His smile was radiant after that, as he just scooped you up in his arms and kissed your face all over.

"Yes! Oh, my little prince, my handsome boy! We can raise this baby if you want, together. Our little family. I'm so glad, I've wanted a baby with you, so badly. I was willing to wait for as long as you needed, but to know you want this too... I'm overjoyed."

Hugs and kisses were given to each other that night, talking about baby names, how to tell the rest of your friends, the logistics of pregnancy and childbirth in space. But mostly, reassurances of love and care.

[jessxxxfwd]

S�xy T� Some��e ꒰✧꒱

***Introducing...! Lee Heeseung x F.reader ✿ he's literally so adorable I want him so bad ✿ sexy to someone by Clairo ✿ self-consciousness (?) warning ✿ m.list

💌- what do we think abt the new theme/layout? I made the gif #sosigma 💪 I think he kinda looks like the charm album cover here?.. Just me?.. Okay 😞

..............................................................................................

As you read your yearbook you saw the notes people had written you. "I didn't know you very well but you seemed nice" or "good luck" sure they were written with nice intent but it felt so empty, written for the sake of writing something. So you wouldn't feel bad. But it felt worse.

None of them had noticed you until you all were leaving. You had friends, very little but it was enough. But sometimes you felt inferior, your friends had other friends. You didnt. But there was one note on a page by itself. You couldn't remember who signed it and there wasn't a name...

It read "Hi, we haven't spoken much. I've been mainly embarrassed to, you wouldn't like me or I would humiliate myself. But I hope whatever you choose after school fills you with fulfillment and joy. I wish I could've had the courage to speak to you, maybe I couldn't made you feel that way. I mean you're smile is gorgeous, Just seeing you everyday makes me feel like I'm lucky. Every time. And you're so talented, when I have to read over your writing it's so perfect. Like you. Even if we don't speak. Even if you don't know me. But have fun after graduation, I hope I can speak to you one day if we meet again :)"

Huh? At first you were weirded out and confused. But as you read it.. It was sweeter than anyone else's notes and you didn't even know the person. Nicer and more heartfelt than your best friends note. You loved her to bits but she was busy with others so you didn't really have as many memories to put into ink.

But this person, this guy or girl.. They said you were pretty? They wanted to know you? Not by force but by choice..

Weird. God whoever wrote that was weird. and sweet and caring. But for the most part weird.

You tossed the book onto your mattress and put your head into your palms, you needed to find this mystery writer. Stupid idea really, but it was your last week and you wanted to find this person before you left school forever.

So the next day you started your plan. You were in your class.. They'd wrote about your writing... So they had to be in your english class surely? You sat and tried to pretend to pay attention, eyes scanning the room for potential culprits. Your desk was sat between two people. Some boy you didn't know the name of but he never even looked up from his desk so it surely wasn't him. Hell half the time he wasn't even there.

And the other person was Jake. Well.. That's what his friends called him. You weren't his friend so... Sim Jaeyun. He was a flirt. But he'd never shown any interest in you, hel he acted like you were invisible, the only time he looked at you was when he was talking to the mystery boy at your other side.

Was it him? I mean... He was gorgeous.. Very very handsome. If it was him.. Wow. So you'd ask him, you wrapped a page from your english jotter, you scrubbed down your question quick.

" hi, did you write the long message in my year book? " you crumbled the paper up and slipped it onto his desk. There. Now you wait till he notices, it didn't take long however, he picked it up and unfolded it, he scoffed and smirked "nope, try him sweetheart" he pointed at the other boy and turned back to his papers... That... Didn't go as expected.

You turned to the other boy, face practically hidden in a hoodie, he was so invested into whatever he was doing. You tapped his shoulder "excuse me.. Hi" you said and he looked up, you felt your throat dry. He... He had the prettiest brown eyes ever, as the artificial lights hit them they had a honeylike glisten to them. And you were lost in his doe eyes. You didn't even hear his response "um... Yes? Hello?" He said with a small smile "you like.. Zoned out."

You nodded immediately and flushed "um yeah, uh, did you sign like a really long paragraph into my yearbook? I know it's a random weird question but it mentioned something that I thought related to this class so... " you said, word vomit pouring out your mouth before you could stop your self, as he went to respond.. The bell went. Shit. He smiled "meet me at lunch? In... This classroom?" He said and walked away,

God this whole situation was weird. The letter. The prime suspect?? Hopefully it was him and he wasn't wasting your time. That would be embarrassing. Was it so bad you wanted to know the identity of a boy who found you pretty? You felt so special and you clung onto the feeling.

So there you were. Sandwich bag in hand outside the English room leaning against the door. He appeared out of nowhere from the corridor. Soft smile and a drink in his hand, he waved gently and stepped closer.

"Um.. Hi, let's talk inside yeah?" His voice was so soft and awkward. Cute.

"Yeah sure, what did you want to tell me? Was the note you?" You said as you both went into the class, he leaned against the teachers desk and nodded "yeah, god it's embarrassing, but I meant every word.. I mean.. I do think you're gorgeous, and smart and totally cool" he smiled.

"Cool? Me?" You smiled gently and laughed "but thank you. It was... So sweet"

"Of course.. Um.. Can we be friends? I'd love to get to know you, even if we're graduating this week.. We could text or.. " he rambled on and you took both his hands into yours "sure, I'd love to" he smiled in response and nodded.

"Oh. I'm. Heeseung by the way.. I probably should've said that before" he laughed, you smiled and said your name in response "you're names really pretty" you said to him.

He smiled and nodded "um.. You wanna sign my yearbook?... I just got mine today so I don't have that many" he pulled it out his back and held it out. You took it and wrote down a message.

"I think you're pretty too Heeseung, enjoy graduation !" And right under it was your phone number, written in swirly letters and hearts and x's around them.

He blushed like crazy "ah, thanks.. I'll see you later?" He said and nodded "sure. Bye Heeseung" you smiled and he left. You stayed for a bit before leaving yourself. He was so pretty, a gentleman really.. And he wanted to know you.

You were attractive to somebody. To him. And you were happy to see where it would go.

You heard your phone buzz and smiled at the message as you noticed you sent it.

"Hi! I was wondering if you wanna go for coffee tomorrow after class? :)"

You texted him back "ofc I'd love to ♡" so that was that. You had a date tomorrow. Maybe graduating wouldn't be so bad, wouldn't be so lonely.

[gunnrblze]

Roommate!Hesh

Hello friends. This is my first actual lil piece of writing I’m posting (in this fandom, on this account lol). I’m debating turning it into a full fledged fic, so if you’re intrigued by that I’d love to know! Not to abase myself or anything, but my writing is quite mid lmfao, I just enjoy my silly thoughts n ideas so here you go :)

•1k+ words, SFW, could possibly be read as some slight stalker-ish behavior if you squint, but nothing actually dark like that! The man is just down bad :(

You weren’t exactly sold on living with a stranger yet. Especially not some army guy, but you had little choice.

Desperately needing a roommate after moving to Santa Monica, a friend mentioning a friend of theirs who has a brother. A brother who happens to be looking for a roommate too.

You trusted your friends judgement enough to pursue the recommendation. Figuring that living with a special forces soldier could either be pleasantly uneventful, or a dumpster fire, based on what you knew of the type.

But David, or Hesh as everyone reportedly calls him, was decent. Clean, respectful, kind when he toured you around the apartment. The near boyish charm that laced itself between his heavy presence may have caught your attention.

But a fling, especially with a new roommate, was not what you needed.

Your room was smaller than his, but having gotten to the apartment second to him, you understood first come first served. You just enjoyed the in-unit washer and dryer and stainless steel appliances, if you were being honest.

The apprehension you had, the hang ups of starting a new chapter, moving in with someone you only just met through a friend of a friend, started to dissipate sooner than anticipated. Instead filled in by a dull surprise.

Hesh worked pretty often, but even when he wasn’t around, it’s as if he were still there.

His section of chores always finished, some of yours even started or done completely for you. You asked him about it after divvying up the household responsibilities, making sure you weren’t confused.

But he insisted it was “no biggie”, he’d just found himself taking the trash out on his way to work. Tidying the kitchen up after he got home in the middle of the night and cooked himself an impossibly late dinner.

Said dinner he left in the fridge the next morning, a sticky note on top explaining that you should finish it up so it doesn’t go bad.

Leftovers usually kept for days though, didn’t they?

His boots by the front door, the smell of his aftershave somehow lingering everywhere throughout the apartment, his hat left in the bathroom and the goddamned coasters that he insisted be used around the living room.

When he wasn’t there, it felt like he was. A ghost permeating the walls. His broad frame, tall and wide, voice deep, green eyes that somehow always landed on you when he was near. They weren’t quite unsettling eyes, they were penetrating. As if he could see what lie inside you, too.

But when he was there, it felt almost arresting. Interrupting. You barely knew him, only lived with him for a few weeks.

But you weren’t sure whether you could tell if it even felt that way anymore.

Anything he bought, you were free to use or eat. Was he just that nice? Your old roommates wouldn’t let you touch their things with a 10 foot pole. But what was his seemed to be yours in a way, too.

You chalked it up to him being an eldest child. But you weren’t merely being treated like a younger sibling.

Your Netflix subscription ended and you didnt want to spend the money to renew it, but it didn’t matter because Hesh had Netflix too. Which meant you had it.

Hesh had every kind of household tool one could need in his toolbox, which meant that you had them now too.

Except you couldn’t use them. Because he’d fix whatever you needed. Hang up any picture frame of yours on your wall as you started to decorate your space. And you merely let him, somehow unable to insist that you could indeed, handle it.

It was only natural when he’d asked if you wanted breakfast one morning, explaining that he made too much food. Too much of your favorite food. Or when he not so subtly watched how you made your tea, filing it away in his brain so he could bring you a cup one day when you were sick in bed.

And then some cough drops. And soup. And cold medicine.

Maybe you felt a bit like a guest at a bed and breakfast, or maybe he was just raised decently.

When the washing machine broke, he took a look at it before you could even bring it up to him, was he listening to you in the laundry room? Hard to say. Fixed it so you could do your loads of laundry.

But not before letting you borrow a t-shirt of his, since all your clothes were dirty, of course. You’d obviously have to wash the one you had on, too.

You thought you were surely screwed when your car broke down outside of work one day. But when you texted Hesh and asked if he knew of a good mechanic. he was, naturally, already in the area just running errands.

So he took a look at your car while you stood to the side and watched. Making a point not to watch his biceps flex around the ring of his t-shirt sleeve, or the way he brushed the sweat off his forehead.

Surely you were paying attention to his explanation of the drive belt in your car being too wore out, and not the way his fatigues stretched over the meat of his thighs.

Why was he in his work uniform if he was just running errands? You didn’t think about it very much.

Your job had been stressing you so much, and it appeared something like second nature for him to wrap you into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back, murmuring things that seemed too dulcet for a roommate of hardly even a month to soothe you with. Even though it helped.

He was always there, his magnetism suffocating. But not in the way that two hands might feel around your neck. But in the way the sunshine feels beating down on you. The way you feel tipsy before feeling fully drunk, charged but blissful.

Pleasantly inescapable.

You didn’t really stop to fully question his comforts though, not when he made you a cup of tea and put a movie on in the living room, sitting a bit too close to you.

Not that you minded of course, considering you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder.

And what kind of roommate would he be if he didn’t pick you up and tote you off to your bedroom? He knew you were half awake, and you knew he knew, but it didn’t matter.

With one arm hooked under your knees and the other around your back, your face that didn’t need to be pressed to his chest, it just didn’t matter.

Because what kind of roommate would he be if he didn’t lay you in your bed and cover you up, setting your alarms on your phone so you’d wake up the following morning?

How did he know your passcode? How did he know exactly what alarms you set?

It didn’t really matter to you after he kissed your head goodnight.

[choccy-milky]

Status update on the dark relic nsfw comic please ma'am 🙏 my family is dying

ITS DONE!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉...well, the DRAWING part is as of yesterday BAHAHA. now im just adding all the dialogue/speech bubbles/sfx, SO ITS DEFINITELY GONNA BE SOON!! DEFS BY THIS WEEKEND!! ive just been very nitpicky on the font which i cant decide on LMAO and im also nitpicky abt other final touches LOL. i didnt wanna show anymore cuz ive already shown so much but HERES THE FINAL SNEAK PEEK

and speaking of fonts, i normally use handwriting by jeremy paz!

oh man its so random, but i either use the name lumi or clora for everything whenever i play rpgs (baldurs gate 3, dragon age, you name it) and clora originated from rune factory 4 LOL. theres a character named 'clorica' and i really liked that name, it sounds so elegant and fantasy ish, so i eventually just shortened it to clora bahaha. now its my go-to. i like how simple it is but it also sounds unique and works in modern AND fantasy settings, imo

my first and ONLY playthrough was as clora! i originally did try to make myself at the start, but i have short brown hair and straight across bangs, and they didnt have a style that felt 'me', so i went with just making a ravenclaw that i liked, and then gave her my go-to name of clora HAHA. and yea, i built up her and sebs relationship in my head as i was playing, especially with all the running around the castle i did. i just liked to imagine her constantly out of breath and flushed and seb just watching like ....🧍girl chill...

AND SPEAKING OF MY DARK RELIC COMIC/SMUT, my biggest advice for writing smut id say is to have a reasoning behind it, i guess? i focus a lot on their headspace/WHY they're fucking at that moment when i write it LOL instead of just the movements/sex for the sake of sex. in your case, the sexual tension leading up to the first time gives you SO much to work with, since you can just be in his head with how much hes looking forward to it, how much hes savouring it, how he's also nervous but enjoying it and trusting the other person, etc. the thoughts are hotter than the actual deed a lot of the times (which is why when clora and seb did it for the first time it ended up being like, 15k words of just foreplay and build up from sebs perspective LMAOO) so yeah id just try to focus on their emotions and desires if you can! and a lot of the times with consent stuff it CAN feel forced, and you dont even really need your characters to talk about that stuff verbally, at least not too much. you can do it in body language, or just something as simple as 'ill stop if you want'. it doesnt have to be a long therapist-like conversation about consent, which CAN tend to sound a little awkward and unrealistic (esp in the heat of the moment), if thats the problem you're having. HOPE I COULD HELP

also i love this for you and for me. YES GO ON AND MAKE A BUNCH OF CLORA CLONES, I COMMAND IT👉👉👉

and last but not least the most important question. honestly i like plain sweets a lot with no icing/filling. im a slut for shortbread cookies and also just plain glazed donuts. and also custard/portugese/egg tarts, which i also forced clora to like in my fic HAHA. IF YOU HAVENT HAD THEM YOU HAVE TO, THEYRE SO GOOD😩😩💖💖

[someone-help-im-obessed]

Can you write about Tenzin being obsessed with Lin ;)

How to make a man obsessed with you? Well let’s see. Oh wait LIN DOESNT HAVE TO TRY. I MEAN WE ARE ALL OBSESSED WITH HER AND SHES NOT EVEN REAL. Maybe we are crazy or Maybe Tenzin is. Or both. We are all obsessed with a depressed mommy issues woman.

But I am going to say this is set when they are 17/18. And I kinda wrote it in like little chapters but you are in for a treat. (I also wrote myself little scenes and gave them names so if you see one sticking in there. NO YOU DIDNT. I swear I removed them all, I hope)

Tenzin didn’t really remember when he started noticing Lin like this. Maybe it had been gradual, creeping up on him in stolen glances and quiet moments. The way she carried herself—strong, confident, yet effortlessly graceful—had always commanded attention, but now, it was different. Now, he couldn’t stop looking. The way her hair curled against her neck and cheeks, dark strands falling loose from her usual tied-back style, made his fingers itch to tuck them behind her ear. The way she started to wear that pretty shade of pink on her lips—subtle, barely there, but just enough to make him wonder if she did it on purpose—drove him to distraction.

And right now, as she moved across the training grounds, her body twisting and striking with effortless power, he was completely lost in her.

“Tenny.”

Tenzin snapped out of his trance as an arm slung lazily around his shoulders, dragging him out of his daydream. He turned his head sharply to see Bumi grinning at him, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Enjoying the view?” Bumi teased, his voice low so only Tenzin could hear.

Tenzin immediately stiffened, his cheeks heating up. “I was observing her technique,” he muttered, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “Lin is an exceptional earthbender.”

Bumi snorted. “Sure, sure. That’s why you look like you’re about to start writing poetry about her.”

Tenzin shot him a sharp glare, but his older brother only laughed, ruffling his hair as if he were still a child.

On the sparring grounds, Lin was facing off against Aang, exchanging rapid blows with the ease of someone who had trained alongside the Avatar since childhood. Her movements were sharp, precise—years of disciplined training and raw talent making her a force to be reckoned with. Aang, of course, was faster, but Lin’s sheer power and endurance made her a challenge.

Tenzin was supposed to be paying attention to their techniques, studying their footwork, their strategies. But his mind kept wandering. The way Lin’s muscles flexed beneath her fitted training clothes, the determination burning in her sharp green eyes, the way a bead of sweat traced a path down her temple—it was unfair how effortlessly she captivated him.

Bumi nudged him again, jerking his chin toward Lin as she walked toward them. “You might wanna wipe the lovesick look off your face before she gets here.”

Tenzin scowled but barely had time to compose himself before Lin was standing in front of them, hands on her hips, breathing only slightly heavier from the spar.

“Annoying him again, Bumi?” she asked, arching a brow.

Bumi grinned. “It’s my duty as his older brother.” He gestured toward Tenzin’s head with mock seriousness. “Still surprised he’s not bald yet from all the stress I put him through.”

Tenzin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “I’m not spiritually ready for my tattoos yet.”

“I like his hair,” Lin said casually, wiping some sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “It makes him look… normal.”

Tenzin felt his breath hitch. She liked his hair. The thought settled into his chest like a warm ember, spreading through him until it was all he could think about. He’d always imagined himself following in his father’s footsteps, eventually shaving his head when the time was right. But now… he suddenly never wanted to. Not if Lin liked it this way.

Bumi, of course, couldn’t let the moment slide. “Ditch the clothes, and he’ll look like a normal person too.”

Lin smirked slightly, the rare expression making Tenzin’s pulse quicken. Her smiles weren’t common, but when she did smile, it was like everything else around them faded. It was effortless, understated, but it held something deeper—something Tenzin wished he could hold onto forever.

She turned back toward the sparring grounds, ready to resume training with Aang, but Tenzin’s gaze remained locked on her.

His eyes traced the way her body moved, strong and sure. Lin wasn’t delicate, wasn’t the kind of girl who dressed up in silk robes or giggled behind a fan. She didn’t wear tight, fashionable clothes that accentuated her figure—but to him, she didn’t need to. He could see the strength in her, the quiet elegance beneath the layers of armor she built around herself. She was all sharp angles and soft curves, muscle and grace, fire and steel.

She was beautiful. Not in the way most people defined beauty, but in a way that felt undeniable to him. She could have scars or bruises from her training, stretch marks or callouses from years of hard work, and none of it would matter. He would still think she was the most incredible person he had ever laid eyes on.

And the truth was, it wasn’t just the way she looked that had him so mesmerized. It was her. Her unwavering determination, her quick wit, her fierce loyalty. The way she carried the weight of the world without ever asking for help.

All of it.

He wanted all of her.

Tenzin had never been one to let emotions distract him. He prided himself on discipline, on maintaining control. He was the son of Avatar Aang—expected to be a leader, a spiritual guide, a pillar of wisdom. But when it came to Lin, all that self-restraint crumbled into dust.

He had convinced himself that it was a passing thing, something he could ignore, something that would fade in time. It didn’t.

If anything, it grew worse.

Tenzin found himself at the training grounds more than usual, offering excuses to his father or himself about needing to refine his airbending techniques. In reality, he was there for one reason—Lin.

She trained harder than anyone he knew, often long after the others had left. And he would watch. He told himself it was admiration, that he respected her dedication, but deep down, he knew better.

Lin moved with a controlled kind of violence, her every step grounded and firm. Earthbending was so different from airbending—solid, forceful, direct. She never hesitated. Never second-guessed herself. And that confidence, that raw, undeniable strength, had him completely enthralled.

“Are you going to stand there staring, or are you actually going to spar with me?”

Tenzin blinked, snapping out of his daze. Lin stood a few feet away, arms crossed, an amused yet challenging smirk playing at her lips. He hadn’t even realized she had noticed him.

“I wasn’t staring,” he lied, stepping forward.

Lin snorted, rolling her shoulders. “Sure you weren’t.” She dropped into a fighting stance, eyes locked onto his. “Come on, Airhead, show me what you’ve got.”

Tenzin hesitated. Sparring with Lin meant being close to her—too close. It meant dodging her strikes, feeling the force of her movements, catching glimpses of the fire in her eyes. But he couldn’t exactly back down.

So he took his stance.

The match started fast. Lin lunged first, sending a sharp, deliberate strike toward him. He barely avoided it, twisting the air around him to propel himself backward. She pressed forward, relentless, her movements quick and calculated.

Tenzin dodged and redirected, his style fluid where hers was firm, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. She was pushing him, and he was letting her. Maybe because he liked the way she moved. Maybe because he liked the way her eyes flashed with determination when she fought. Maybe because he just wanted an excuse to keep looking at her.

But then, she caught him off guard.

A well-placed foot sweep sent him stumbling, and before he could recover, Lin had him pinned—one knee pressing into his chest, her hands gripping his wrists.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Tenzin could feel her breath on his skin, could see the beads of sweat on her forehead, the loose strands of hair sticking to her cheek. His heart pounded so hard it drowned out every logical thought in his head.

Lin raised a brow. “You’re distracted.”

He swallowed, trying to find his voice. “You’re just… very skilled.”

Her lips twitched in amusement, but she didn’t move right away. And neither did he.

Then, just as quickly as she had taken him down, she pushed herself off him, offering him a hand. “Try harder next time,” she said simply.

Tenzin took her hand, his fingers lingering against hers for just a second longer than necessary.

Try harder? He already was. Trying so, so hard not to want her.

The problem with living at the Air Temple was that there were too many places to run into Lin.

Tenzin often found himself in the courtyard at night, hoping the cool air would clear his mind. It never did. Especially not when Lin was there too.

Tonight was one of those nights.

She sat on the temple steps, leaning back on her palms, eyes turned up toward the stars. The moonlight cast soft shadows across her face, making her look almost serene.

Tenzin hesitated before stepping forward. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Lin glanced at him, then shrugged. “Too much energy.”

He sat beside her, leaving just enough space between them to keep his thoughts in check. “Training too hard again?”

“Something like that.” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “And you? Why are you awake?”

Tenzin could have given a dozen excuses. Meditation. Studying. Preparing for his responsibilities. But instead, he gave her the truth.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Lin smirked. “That’s dangerous.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I suppose it can be.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was something he liked about Lin—she never felt the need for unnecessary chatter.

Then, without looking at him, she spoke again. “Do you ever feel like… you’re supposed to be someone specific? Like everyone expects you to be a certain way, and you don’t know if you can be that person?”

Tenzin turned to her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. Lin never talked like this—not often, at least.

“All the time,” he admitted softly.

Lin exhaled, as if relieved he understood. “Yeah.”

Another silence. Then, she leaned back on her elbows, gazing up at the sky again. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

Tenzin looked at her, taking in the way the moonlight highlighted the curve of her jaw, the softness in her usually sharp features.

He wanted to tell her the same thing. That she was already enough, that she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. That she was incredible, exactly as she was.

But he didn’t. Because if he started saying things like that, he might not be able to stop.

And he couldn’t afford to want her more than he already did.

Tenzin never realized how much he associated Lin with a scent until it started haunting him.

She always smelled like something familiar. Not perfume—Lin wasn’t the type to bother with flowery fragrances—but something raw, something real. The scent of earth after rain, of metal and stone, of sweat and effort.

It clung to her training clothes, to her gloves, to the space where she stood. And, unfortunately, it clung to him too.

One afternoon, he caught himself in the temple halls, breathing in the faintest trace of her scent on his scarf. She must have brushed against him earlier, maybe handed him something, and now the smell was there, lingering like a ghost.

And Tenzin, fully aware of how pathetic he was, didn’t want to let it go.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He was losing his mind. Completely, utterly losing it over her.

This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t rational.

But when it came to Lin Beifong, nothing ever was.

And yet, despite all his efforts, despite his self-restraint and logic, Tenzin knew one thing with absolute certainty—

He was already too far gone.

Tenzin knew he was in trouble the moment he started dreaming about Lin.

Not just passing dreams, but vivid, all-consuming ones. Dreams where he felt the warmth of her skin against his, where her calloused fingers traced the shape of his jaw. Dreams where she leaned in, close enough that he could count the freckles on her nose, and whispered his name like it meant something.

Then, just before he could kiss her, he always woke up.

And it was agony.

Because no matter how much he tried to push these feelings aside, they always found their way back to him—like the unshakable pull of gravity.

Tenzin had never been a particularly materialistic person. Air Nomad values taught him to let go of attachments to physical things.

But then Lin had to go and leave her shirt at the temple.

It was an old training shirt, slightly worn at the edges, left crumpled on one of the benches after sparring. Tenzin found it before anyone else did, holding it in his hands like it was some forbidden artifact.

It smelled like her.

Earth and metal and something uniquely Lin.

And for an embarrassingly long moment, he just stood there, gripping the fabric and closing his eyes, breathing it in like some kind of desperate fool.

He knew he should return it. He would return it.

But instead of walking to Lin’s room, he ended up taking it back to his own. Just for a moment, he told himself. Just until he saw her again.

It sat folded on his desk for three days.

When Lin finally found out, she smirked at him and said, “So… you stealing my clothes now, Tenzin?”

He nearly choked on his own breath

It had been a long day of training, and Tenzin found himself walking with Lin along the cliffs of the Air Temple. The sun was setting, casting everything in deep gold and violet hues.

For once, they were both quiet.

Tenzin wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, that she had completely consumed him in ways he didn’t understand.

But when he finally turned to face her, Lin was looking at him with something unreadable in her expression.

“What?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

She hesitated. Then, almost too quietly, she said, “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

He could feel it between them, thick as the air before a storm.

Tenzin opened his mouth, ready to say something—anything—to break the unbearable tension. But then, Lin smirked and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“You’re thinking too hard again.”

Just like that, the moment was gone.

And Tenzin knew, deep down, that if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to lose his mind over her.

Tenzin had spent his whole life striving for balance. Balance in his bending, balance in his emotions, balance in the expectations placed upon him.

But Lin Beifong was not balanced. She was chaos wrapped in a smirk, sharp edges softened only by those rare moments of quiet vulnerability. And Tenzin—who had always prided himself on being in control—was completely, utterly unraveling.

Tenzin had always thought himself above petty emotions like jealousy. But then Lin started spending more time around one of the younger earthbenders at the temple—a visiting student named Ren.

And Tenzin? He hated him.

It was irrational, immature, and completely beneath him. But none of that mattered when he saw Ren laughing a little too freely around Lin, standing a little too close when they trained, placing a hand on her shoulder like he had the right to touch her.

Tenzin told himself it wasn’t his business. Lin wasn’t his.

But that didn’t stop the simmering frustration every time he saw them together.

One afternoon, he found himself watching them from a distance, pretending to be invested in a scroll about airbending forms while actually grinding his teeth as Ren demonstrated some new earthbending technique for Lin.

“She’s going to break his ribs,” Bumi said casually, dropping onto the bench beside him.

Tenzin tore his gaze away. “What?”

Bumi smirked. “She’s only letting him get comfortable so she can humiliate him when he gets cocky. It’s what she does.”

Tenzin looked back just in time to see Ren attempt a fancy move—only for Lin to sweep his legs out from under him with effortless ease. He landed flat on his back, groaning, while Lin smirked down at him.

Tenzin should have been mature about it. He should have let it go.

Instead, he smirked.

Bumi elbowed him. “Wow. That’s a little evil for you, monk.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tenzin said, his voice completely neutral.

But when Lin caught his gaze across the training yard and raised an amused eyebrow, he quickly looked away.

Tenzin had touched Lin before, of course. Brief, fleeting moments—passing her a cup of tea, steadying her after a sparring match, a casual brush of shoulders when they walked side by side.

But this was different.

It was late. The training grounds were empty except for the two of them, sitting side by side on the cool stone steps after an exhausting day. Lin was rolling her wrist absentmindedly, wincing slightly.

“You should wrap that,” Tenzin said.

Lin scoffed. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said firmly, already reaching for the cloth wrap in his pocket. “Let me see.”

She gave him a look, part amused, part exasperated, but she held out her hand.

Tenzin swallowed hard. Her fingers were rough, calloused from years of bending, strong enough to crack stone—and yet, when he touched her, they were warm. Steady.

He wrapped her wrist carefully, trying to focus on the task and not the way her skin felt against his.

“You’re weirdly gentle,” Lin muttered, watching him.

Tenzin’s hands faltered for half a second.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lin blinked, something unreadable flickering across her face. Then, just as quickly, she smirked. “I’ve been punched through walls before, Tenzin. You’re not going to hurt me.”

He tied off the bandage and exhaled. “Still.”

Lin flexed her fingers experimentally. “Not bad, Airhead.”

For a moment, they just sat there, his hand still lightly resting over hers.

And then, without thinking, she flipped her hand, palm pressing against his, fingers curling slightly as if testing something.

Tenzin felt his heart stop.

He should have pulled away. He should have made a joke. He should have done anything except stare at her like she was the most important thing in the world.

Lin’s fingers twitched—then she pulled back, standing up abruptly. “I should go.”

Tenzin barely had time to respond before she was already walking away.

He sat there for a long time, staring at his empty palm, still feeling the ghost of her touch.

It was raining the night it almost happened.

Tenzin and Lin had taken shelter under one of the covered walkways of the temple, watching as the storm rolled over the mountains.

Lin hated the rain.

“It makes the ground too soft,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. “Like it’s melting under me.”

Tenzin chuckled. “Airbenders like it. The wind moves differently in the rain.”

Lin turned to look at him. “Of course you would say that.”

He smiled, but it faded quickly when he realized how close they were. Close enough that he could see every raindrop clinging to her eyelashes, close enough that her body heat cut through the chill in the air.

He shouldn’t have stared at her lips.

But he did.

And Lin—Lin—didn’t move away.

She was watching him, waiting.

Tenzin’s heart pounded. He leaned in—just slightly, just enough to see if she would stop him.

She didn’t.

Then, just as their breaths mingled, a voice called out from across the courtyard.

“Lin! Tenzin!”

They jolted apart like guilty teenagers, and Lin let out a frustrated sigh before stepping away.

Tenzin exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face.

So close.

Too close.

Tenzin wasn’t sure when it became unbearable. Maybe it was that night in the rain. Maybe it was every time she smirked at him, or every time she casually touched his arm, or every time she looked at him like she was daring him to do something about it.

But it reached a breaking point.

And when it did, he could no longer pretend.

It happened in the dead of night, after another long day of training, another night of pretending that his entire body didn’t ache for her.

Tenzin found her alone in the courtyard, arms crossed, gazing out over the cliffs. She looked tired.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

Lin shook her head. “You?”

Tenzin hesitated—then made a choice.

“No.” He stepped closer. “Because of you.”

Lin stilled. Slowly, she turned to face him, her sharp green eyes searching his. “What?”

Tenzin’s pulse roared in his ears. He had spent months—years—biting his tongue, forcing himself to be patient, to be logical, to be careful.

But he wasn’t careful now.

“I think about you,” he admitted, voice rougher than he intended. “More than I should. More than I want to.”

Lin didn’t look away. She didn’t smirk, didn’t deflect, didn’t tease.

For once, she was completely still.

Tenzin stepped closer, so close that all he had to do was reach out.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too,” he whispered.

The wind howled through the courtyard. Lin’s fingers curled at her sides, like she was waging a war with herself.

Then, just as she opened her mouth—

A loud crash echoed from the temple halls, followed by Bumi’s voice shouting, “Tenzin! I may have set something on fire!”

Lin exhaled sharply, turning away.

And Tenzin?

Tenzin clenched his fists, watching as the moment slipped through his fingers again.

This time, he wasn’t sure if he’d get another chance.

Sooo I might continue this and make him beg for her… stay tuned

[vonbabbitt]

Throwing this in, though I know you have a post saying you're taking a break: I quite like Tetro. The story is exciting, and incredible. You've done an amazing job piecing everything together, and it has lead to me pretty seriously looking into following the footsteps of this project with a story also told in this audio format, since you demonstrated so clearly not only how this was possible, but how this could be done so well for a Killing Game specifically. The latest events, the latest death, as made me incredibly sad, and I feel a lot of emotional turmoil over losing both victims. But despite that, I have enjoyed the loving, losing, and worrying for the future. That's amazing. All of it is amazing. I have my theories and conclusions about who may be guilty and who isn't, but based on the posts I read, I mainly wanted to express an amount of thankfulness that the series exists at all. It's even lead to me writing fanpieces for some character interactions, and I imagine I have a few more in me from all that's gone on. Not only that, but the hard topics of this series have meant a lot to me. Yanagi and Tsuno have especially felt really close to home. The stories they talk about and the things they deal with matter in my own life. And the series as a whole has made me cry over stuff that mattered to me much more than any other media has done in the last year or so, maybe longer, in even broader strokes. All the characters don't just feel like people one could meet, but people I have met. People I have known. And some of those conversations feel just like ones I've had in my own life. You've done something incredible, and the writing has connected to me deeply. And though I can only speak for me, I doubt I'm alone in this. Thank you for this project, and thank you for sharing it so broadly, freely, and completely. Thanks for writing it, and writing daringly, maturely, and earnestly. At least, such are the ways I would describe it.

I hope I can cross paths with you sometime in the future over a creative endeavor. But in the meanwhile, I'll be tuned in to whatever you do for this, and for whatever comes next. As these things are called asks, if you do decide to respond: Who on Tetro is your favorite? Is it the same from when you were initially writing it? And what lead you to choose an audio drama as the medium in question? Thanks, and see ya at the trial.

thank you very very much, im extremely glad that youve been able to connect with my writing on that level and i hope that others have as well! i really enjoyed the writing process for tetro so its always really cool for me when others can enjoy my story as well

also, my favourite is hama! that changed a lot during production, but ive settled on hama as my goat forever i think. sorry to all the other favs i abandoned along the way

i chose the audio drama format because ive always really liked being able to picture things. when i was a kid, i used to fall asleep to audio books every night, and i really liked being able to picture the characters and stories as they were happening. i would always be so disappointed when id go to watch a movie adaptation of a book i liked only to see that everything looked different from in my head lmao.

i also think audio is a really fun format for this type of story! it was a fun challenge to get my points across without having visuals to back my writing. i didnt have very much faith in my ability to do this at first. tetro was originally planned to have a narrator because i didnt think id be able to tell a story without one. when i realized my writing could stand on its own, i took out the narrator and just let myself carry it as best i could. i think it made for some really fun opportunities where the impact of a scene just wouldnt have been nearly as strong if there had been visuals or narration.

i think [Ice Fairy] is a highlight of tetro in terms of audio storytelling - same with [Good Child]. having only audio forces you as the viewer to take a moment to figure out what's happening, which in turn gives you an "oh shit" realization moment that really helps the impact of a scene like [Ice Fairy] or [Good Child]. there are still some more really cool examples of tetro utilizing its format left to come - i hope you enjoy them when they do!

[syscest]

system[?] here. i guess? idk, this is just a confession and maybe asking for advice if there is any for something like this. i struggle a lot with singletmoding when depression and dysphoria gets bad, and it has been bad a lot lately. like months. and its hard because im basically just fragments anyways, nothing super distinct. and i dont have a headspace, or voices. so i dont know what to do to make myself feel more plural. sometimes a really distinct headmate comes to front and it feels like something but most of the time it feels like nothing and i miss plurality. but its not easy. idk if theres any advice because so much of it focuses on having a headspace or looking inward or creating a headspace etc etc but when we had tried that before it made the host at the time go dormant due to stress and we still didnt get like a headspace out of it. idk. you dont have to post this, im sorry.

shhhhh anon - so, for the record our system:

doesn't have a headspace or any sense of spatialness related to fronts/switching

doesn't have internal dialogue. we can't write notes either, our brain rejects it

doesn't have a memory split / gaps between headmates - switches are just a slight shift we help happen

tends to hold fronts for days at a time, but finds that fronts often "fade out" into mush after a while, the vividness goes away and it gets kinda generic feeling

and my main sentiment is. don't force it. these quieter types of systemhood are about connecting with yourself/ves, they're about curiosity. they're about exploration and finding new ways to express yourself/ves. and they're all about really small things instead of really big things.

We usually wouldn't offer such specific advice to a specific ask, because we hate prescribing the way systems should be - but this is our personal thought process for when we've masked ourself into a hole and forgotten what we're even capable of experiencing.

So, think of a chime, or a pond - if it's thrashed, it's an unclear mess well after you stop, but if you touch it while it's still, that input resonates, and what you put in slowly comes back to your ears and eyes. Systems often have this "reflective" quality, I think - which means reconnecting with your system often means looking for things you put in to it.

You miss the feeling of your system. That's a good start - let yourself have that. It kinda sucks but, mull over and genuinely explore that feeling. Then keep your ears open from then and into the week, and you just might feel that feeling that your system misses itself/you back. Have a fondness? Same thing. Something you're wearing would look better if certain fragments were more present? *Think* that - picture it. Look after yourself through looking after your system - see if it looks after you back. Feel for that little "delay" between when you feel a feeling, and it comes back to being felt about you.

And hey, even if that doesn't mean "switching and fronts" like you want it to, maybe it'll feel good anyway.

[marsohla]

not a poem but i just came home and on the way here i listened to ethel cain and i cant not write about this.

when i listened to perverts for the first time, i forced my boyfriend to go through the whole 1.5h project in silence and while doing nothing. the whole time i just sat, zoned out and listened to the music. during that time i came up with a whole music project idea for myself. and its not like i heard her album and decided i want to make one like hers, no, i was so deep inside the ambience and the atmosphere she created, that i literally travelled through my mind and found so many things i could make music about. really meaningful and complex, deep topics id love to explore and express with my art.

until now, i made music about more surface level shit, and although i enjoyed it, it didnt feel that authentic and i always had to switch into this "character" to make the songs.

i never released any of it.

but now im dedicated. i want this project to come to life and let me drop the weight off of my brain, where all of it was stored and i never gave it attention, even though they're heavy and affect my life without realisation.

this whole post was supposed to be about my love for Hayden's work. she's so insanely inspiring, artistic, ethereal. she's my idol and my inspiration. i even imagined myself opening for her show one day, probably delusional, but it gives me hope and motivation.

i just love music, and Hayden's work is almost as if the definition of the word music. spiritual, inspirational and deep musical pieces.

:) sorry for the rant <3

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

This is a weird thought piece question so if you don’t wanna answer it’s okay. But genuinely as a character I think Katsuki is very aware of people he cares about. Almost in an Izuku type of obsessive way, maybe less intense and prone to writing it down, lol. But as I trust your perspective on him a lot I wanted to ask, do you think he’s the type of person as a friend or significant other or potential person, to be aware of insecurities?

Or to care genuinely? For example if you were insecure about your size. Do you think he would be aware of that and be silent? Or would he love the insecurity in spite of your feelings? Or does he not really think twice because he cares about you and doesn’t know you would even feel that way. It’s a weird dilemma I ran into wanting to write a piece for him and I realized I couldn’t figure it out. Hopefully I am explaining myself properly?

Thank you 😭

i understand what u mean lol dw and i think if u read some of my pieces my stance on this aspect of him is hard to grasp bc i dont often write more insecure readers. mostly bc i think its a little bit harder to write well as it requires more nuances but thats a diff can of worms jdhfkj

i think its important to understand less so what bakugou does and does not care about and moreso the way he process information - which is largely intuitive.

like i do understand what you are asking and because bakugou is bakugou - yes, i think he is probably aware of these things. he picks up on them often and usually uses them in some context when throwing insults or even in more light hearted interactions.

but a lot of bakugous informational processing is based on a pragmatic, systemic and reason based way of thinking. and a lot of what impedes that way of acting is his own emotional state. in the beginning of the series, he's a lot more insecure in himself and he projects that onto other people. it causes him to act in very irrational and ridiculous ways

however by the end of the series, katsuki s a fully processed and emotionally realized man. so he defaults to a more elevated, calm and secure version of himself that relies on what he's best at which is using his intuition to draw conclusions and implementing a reason based plan. before he was doing that just with logic.

but he has the emotional tuning to also do this in his relationships and he's taken a lot of time to learn to navigate them.

so i think in a partnership, it's unlikely that he does not know at all. i think he probably picks up on the insecurity in smaller ways but does not put a real name to it (i.e. i dont think he thinks of it consciously / actively) until something comes up which forces him too do it

and that something would be if its putting his partner in any kind of serious emotional distress or comes up frequently as a reason for their upset.

katsuki has this line he says very famously says to shouto "there's no way you could've noticed something that i didnt but lets hear it anyway." and he's being passive aggressive af lol but there is some merit to that.

he's a very keen person naturally and he spends a significant amount of time with you - so he definitely knows to an extent. maybe no actively, maybe not consciously - but just an intuitive understanding.

however, because he loves you - he will only intervene when he thinks its necessary to do so. and this isn't because he doesn't care about you, but because he specifically had to handle his own insecurity and he knows firsthand what you're experiencing in himself.

but katsuki loves you and also has a lot of faith in you. he will push if he thinks you need to be pushed, and he will assure if he thinks you need to be assured. he's a good partner in that way. but for the most part, he won't interfere because he trusts in you as a person to overcome things. insecurity is not something that can be mended by another person if it's within yourself, but it can be healed when it's reframed to you by someone who loves you.

and if you need that from katsuki he will undoutedly give it to you. but he trusts you to handle business basically. so not in a bad way, he treats your insecurities as simply being apartof you.

he doesn't have any feelings about the insecurity itself. he's not lying when he says that. but thats because he loves you more as an amalgalm of all the parts of you. his view of you is rounded out and he sees all of it as you. if he loves you, he loves you. there's nothing that needs to be changed as longs as its you. so he has no opinion on if you like or dislike something. you are you no matter who you are or what you look like.

bakugou is very explicitly not shallow. appearances in love are generally unimportant to him. he falls in love with people not looks even when people don't believe that because he's so pretty lmao

[strangegardendelusion]

andres dumb plan hinges too much on the idea of "stolas will come save blitz because he loves him and then hold himself accountable so i can take his legions! obviously!" when theres like. no implication that anyone really knows what blitz and stolas's relationship is, or that they even care about each other, especially not when stella said, "he finally realized that filthy little beast was only using him to gain access to his grimoire", like, what about that implies that stolas would give a shit if anything happened to someone who was "using him"? thats right - it doesnt! if andres plan had been properly executed in the stupid ass way he set it up in the episode, then blitz wouldve been executed, and fuck all wouldve happen to stolas after. if anything, hed be treated like a hero who was used unfairly by some low life, who was then slaughtered on tv to remind the lower citizens of hell not to fuck with the upper crust. imagine if that had happened, forcing stolas to go back to his home by himself; no stella since they divorced, no via since shes turning 18 soon, and no blitzy, ever again. maybe they shouldve just done that tbh, that way he could take over the show completely, since thats obviously what viv wants so damn bad. (also, stolas possible redemption arc when he realizes his actions actually DO have consequences!) or, i dunno, if she had the maturity to let other people look at her 3 year old script without surrounding herself with yesman, she mightve realized that she couldve kept EVERYTHING she wanted and still had the same ending, at the price of having stolas do the bare minimum and say, "he didnt force himself onto me, i.. forced myself onto him." the ending with all the imps hating stolas would make sense (because they know hes a rapist), blitz being able to even acknowledge any care he has for stolas might make more sense if he'd even SAY what he did wrong to blitz in front of EVERYONE important in hell, being a way to make up for his manipulative behavior and him hiding his face at ozzies, especially if stolas said, "i'm so sorry, blitz. for getting you into this mess, for everything ive done to you.." after blitz says thank you when they return home. (thats just the way i'd write it, because i cannot fucking stand that blitz says, "thank you, stolas, for saving my life," when blitz, at minimum, has saved stolas's life 3 TIMES AND HAS NEVER GOTTEN A THANK YOU ONCE BEFORE THIS POINT and was even INSULTED over saving him the best he could, because blitz needed to be there for his DAUGHTER first like a good dad, which is obviously something stolas has never comprehended since his sacrifice and willingness to die for his former forced sex slave in mastermind proves that, but stolas saves blitz twice, the second time being when hes holding himself accountable for his own actions that nearly got his "lover" killed to begin with? oh, heres a gold star, a thank you from the guy you forced to have sex with you to keep food on the table for his family, and a free imp to wash you just like when you were 12 i mean a totally not trauma bonded bf!)

Honestly, anon, interesting points all around! I didn't even think about all you said before you mentioned it.

Now, having blitz died is a very interesting idea

I mean, it would be very cool to see how each character reacts to his death, like having loona experience her sadness by turning it into anger and having millie and moxxie grieving with each other the best they can.

It would also be very interesting to see stolas hitting the deep end as he realized how his life is falling apart

I could see stolas trying to reach out to everyone blitz knew, and nobody wanted to do anything with stolas

From then on, the series would follow stolas as he deals with everything