#i cannot afford. this habit rn

[glynjohnsfurcoat]

okay i have to start quitting nicotine today everybody fucking pray for meeeeee i’m about to start having the craziest nightmares and be super irritable all the time 😁

[kraviolis]

anyways i got sidetracked from what i was originally gonna post. now that im off my medication for the foreseeable future (with minor exceptions like whenever my mom shares their adderall with me) ive become more acutely aware than ever before exactly how genetically predisposed to addiction and substance abuse i really am

[amerasdreams]

The baby cat can snap a string in a couple seconds when you're not watching. So watch out. Don't leave strings near him you want to protect.

Like he gnaws a few times and the string or strap is demolished. How can he have such sharp little teeth. And why.

[random-vyxx]

Sooo! Nn DIALTOWN HEADCANONS!! (Tw there are brief mentions of suicide-) [ill get to dsaf headvanons in a different post]

(Also there's a LOT.)

Gingi:

• phonegingi and typegingi are separate beings.

• biology is determined on whats funniest in context.

• can change their sex at will,, like a frog,

• sometimes sleeps at the foot of norms bed like some fatass dog /lovingly /inspiredby that one nrom blog

• they have an immense dislike of beans.

• when asked about any sort of beans they get defensive.

• red-green colour blind

• purrs,,

• has adhd ,,, because,, they,, akt like me,, *

• thinks the narrator and it are homoerotic, the narrator just wants to go home.

• has a hang in there cat poster in its tent.,, stole it from Billy's alternary school when smuggling him out to ask for help summoning satan.

• likes liquorice.

• every 1-3 years gingi has to get a rabies shot. WILL NOT go alone. Has to get someone to take her or else he IS biting a veterinarian.

• Gingi has broken a limb before, they tried gnawing it off but got distracted by an un-watched construction site (gravel yummy yummy)

Karen

• were married. /JOKR.. /perchance?!

• is not only protective of romantic companions (me rn: 🤓👆),, just anyone she likes.

• she doesn't stim often (repressing it n whatnot), but when she does its usually something simple like bouncing onto her heels. *

• HATTTEEESSS blueberries. Oh my god unless they're ripe in the right way she physically cannot make herself eat them. Likes the taste but GOD she cant deal with them. *

• sometimes when she has a painting she didn't like the outcome of, she lets gingi gnaw on it. (She uses non-toxic paints when painting near gingi)

• smart, but she can make dumb decisions out of impulse.

• goth phase, but eventually got out of it because she just.. Didn't like it anymore.

• girlboss, i love her! !!

• her boss HATED her!

• sometimes she gets art block and stares at the canvas, contemplating if shes actually an artist.

• found a leaf that looked strangely like Charlie Chaplin, showed it to gingi and gingi devoured it instantly.

Randal.

• Randy finds it very hard to sleep naturally!! He will curl up around the airvent in the ticket booth.

• shares a braincell with Oliver n Karen.

• as pathetic as he is, can be pretty damn assertive at times.

• not sexually, bro would be shook if he held your HAND.

• he daydreams about some disney ass "getting pushed onto the dance floor and #ROCKING IT!!!!! " (If he got pushed onto a dance floor hed cry.)

• HAS drempt (dreampt? ) about invader zim and rainbow dash frim mlp beating the shit out of him. Has cried to Oliver about it, and Oliver asked if he did or did not deserve their beating,, in the dream.

• honestly kinda in love with Oliver.

• has honestly known Karen a BIT longer than hes known Oliver,, probably met her after leaving his dads house at 16.

• anytime he passes by the swan pond while walking back to the funfair, he starts shaking

• religious trauma, but meeting god kinda eased his fears a bit

• maybe it was the whole "god is really just an alcoholic hobo.. Hm... Maybe im nOT going to hell! He just like me fr! ",, still scared of him tho since if his life got that bad god aint in control.

• ASS EYESIGHT!! cant afford repairs.

• Randy will scarf down ANY food given. Hes usually nervous about being given stuff, but food? No questions asked, already consumed

Oliver

• has some crazy ass habits

• OLIVER IS SMART. IM TIRED OF PRETENDING HES NOT. HE CAN ACT ON IMPULSE, YES, HE CAN MAKE BAD DECISIONS, YEAH, HELL HE CAN SAY DUMB/IMMATURE SHJT BHT HE UD SMAR HE ISS SMA

• actually a pretty good welder, just sometimes uses it for... Evil.

• he welded a dick then him and gingi giggled about it for 38 minutes. He hides it around the scareshack sometimes and when mr dickens finds it, he sighs and places it somewhere new to continue this GOD AWFUL game.

• jokes about committing crimes, but wouldn't,, chaotic good type shiz.

• romance is boring ahh self.*

• likes randy,, but subtly, since hes greyromantic

• once listened to "kiss me son of god" by they might be giants so long he felt physical withdrawal when he WASN'T listening to it. Would pay money to listen to it for the first time again. ****

• used to overbind just because hed forget hes wearing a binder. Average conversation would be like "god randy i feel sick as FUCKK... " "maybe get that checked out..? " "like my chest hurts n shit,, iunno if its actually serious but it does hurt" ".. Oliver are you wearing the binder thingy... If thats what its called-? "*

• Oliver speaks in stage directions, instead of right, he says "stage left"

Bigfoot

• it takes a lot to coax Bigfoot into the city, usually more responsive when karen does it.

• no longer allowed near a car. *

• actually knows several languages, just doesn't speak.

• dude its Bigfoot what can i say, he like 'naners.

Norm

• INTRUSIVE thoughts. Bro is tweaking. *

• whenever he gets intrusive thoughts he feels PHYSICALLY SICK. Like one he gets is doing what he was going to do in the bad ending. One bullet for mingus, one for himself. He wouldn't, definitely not. Giving up his happy ending would be stupid and he knows that. He cant control it though. Thats what intrusive thoughts are. He has yet to tell anybody about them. (Yes im starting his hcs with these two)

• bisexual, had the awakening during his isolation.. Fill in the blanks.

• the hat he wears is,, thank god,, not the infamous erotica hat. Though he has yet to get RID of the erotica hat.

• used to play bloody knuckles. I SWEAR ITS FUN*

• bickers with Mingus a lot, but sometimes they're calm (prolly after some hijinks.)

• was a fucking hOMO for Callum, it was not mutual, and he knew that.*

(tHIS IS NOT ME VILLAIN-IZING ANYONE HERE ITA OKAY TO NOT LIKE SOMEONE BACK I JUST NEED TO ADD TJIS DISCLAIMER BECAUSE SOEM PEOPLE FUCKING SUCK)

• God gets him to make omelettes sometimes. Norm is somewhat freaked out by it, but does it nonetheless because its fucking god.

• sometimes sees bad edits of spaceships going into space on Facebook reels... And he HAS gotten nostalgic over it. *

• isn't ready to date anybody, no siree, but he is able to form close bonds. And thats okay!!!

• sleeps with a rifle under his pillow*

• after little to no contact with fellow humans for YEARS, he is DOGSHIT at several social cues. I dont know if its the autism or the isolation anymore.... Vro also doesn't know about several important events!

• ended up giving gingi a turnip so theyd DHUT UP.

• asked my dad for ideas, he just "double cheeseburger". I dont know what this means.

• The ink spots fan at heart 💖

Mayor Mingus

• The mingling has a specific pin to show they're in it, but nobody knows what it means so they just look fruity. Mingus didn't accept the pin idea, but they did it any ways. She REFUSES to acknowledge the fact she put it on a board in her office.

• Has cat like behaviors,, obviously,, but sometimes shit like purring shows and she HATES it.

• post chapter 3, shes less frantic about fixing callum, but wont put him down,, never.

• head overheats easily become cats cant sweat (a lot)

• tries to get people to shut up as soon as possible, but will negotiate if she deems it necessary. *

• strangely knows "McDonald's lore". Doesn't elaborate.

• Mingus and the rest of the mingling are back as a group, gods no longer in it and bunnys there!!

• has a list of citizen's she dislikes immensely!! If this got leaked, she'd be in big trouble. *

• catnip works. Well. Too well.

• tango will find her high off her ass on catnip,,, just staring at a lamp like a fucking moth.

• The mingling isnt ENTIRELY incompetent now that bunnys back, theyre kinda together as a crime force. Shooty and stabby have yet to be given real weapons but they're still there so the REST of the mafia can say "Honey... We can call the MAYOR for this disrespect. "

• Passively aggressively says "Im fine. " if shes pissed off. [Needs al-kee-hol.. Aka milk]*

• walks her paw-paw around the nursing home just to keep him a little fit. Callum does NOT know who thos strange cat lady is but hes okay with that.

• tired mom-core

• AROACSE!!!! ACE!!! ARO!!!*

[The next characters wont have as many headcanons.]

Abel

• his complaining taught everyone his legal name was "Unabel". Everyone calls him that now.

• Drinks on the job.

• going through a messy divorce. He started it.

• Abelvynny??!!!

• hes alergic to peppermint and coconut.

• strange deja vu when he sees certain phones,, like... Whoever the hell Joe and Harry are, and Tango too for some reason. It confuses him and he does NOT like it.

Bunny

• ABEL DIVORCED HIS ASS WHILE BUNNY WAS IN THE HOSPITAL.

• Disabled because of getting slammed with a fucking machine.

• has prosthetic legs,, because,,, getting slammed with madame mediocre,, AND a call back to callum crown.

• ALSO drinks on the job

• doesn't actually like rabbits, changed his name for marketing.

• eats lemons. *

God / Local Hobo

• RARELY gets seriously mad, and when they do, its not that bad

• Churches weird him out,, but doesn't really care. *

• everyone in town knows them in some way.

• hes the one who pissed on the bank floor

• doesn't actually like eating waffles. He'll eat anything but waffles just are for decorative purposes in his mind.

• genderfluid,, but hes usually too drunk to use anything other than he/they.. Used to use everything though. Maybe when sober they'll use she/her,, but again, rarely sober.

• also has a feminine voice,,, just for sillies. *

Shooty n Stabby

• team rocket type shit

• they datin. They queer.

• their head was done by some dude in an alleyway between an applebees and a hospital.

• Originally he knife headed one is stabby, the gun headed one is shooty. They don't know that,, because they only call eachother "bro".

• dialtown mob isn't even that bad.. They're just incompetent. Like zim compared to the rest of the irken empire. Im sorry invader zim brainrots getting to me.

• HAD good weapons before, because mingus didn't know how shitty they were. Never again. Mingus learnt her lesson.

Theoraur Rustlebelt (famed adventurer and explorer)

• chronic back pain from wrangling large animals. Pain

• Put traps outside of gingis tent, gingi ate them

• sleeps holding a gun.

• says bully so much because its FUCKUNG A FUN WORD OKAY I UNDERSTAND THE HYPWY,, BULLY IS A FUN FUCKJNV WKRD*

• likes the colour green a little.. Too much, just doesn't ever wear it.

Little Billy

• Drinks pure ketchup and its scary. *

• Neurodivergent ,, *

• weed. Lots. [[[Most people thinks it's just kid shit, hes high. who gave him weed. ]]]

• Likes breakcore music (like atari teenage riot and machine girl ) *

• hates everyone equally ♡*

• peanut allergy,, but he mainly eats macaroni so does it matter????

• has one of those silly ass spinny chairs to keep him focused in mingling meetings,, but still easily diverges topic [SPINNY CHAOR IDEA WAS TAKEN FROM SOMEONE ELSS BHT I FORGOT FROM WHOM]

• knows a little too much about knives.*

• favourite knife is a bowie knife, since he finds the history neat. Thinks Jim Bowie did some SICK stuff... But like,, jim bowies still a terrible person and he knows it. Stoll that standoff was epic. This is self projecting im sorry***

• lies a lot, even when not needed. *

• picks up spiders and gives them to people he dislikes. *

• aroace,, but hes 7 so he doesn't know yet.. Nor care.

END!!!!! the amount of aroace headcanons is for a spECIFIC REASON!! (im aroace.)

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Dear stranger (Donna)”

Donna Beneviento x Reader (gif ©noxdivina)

cw :: smoking || mentions of self-h#rm || scars || unhealthy coping mechanisms’ more like it || height place phenomenon

howdy this gay is back in time for pride month (not really) just a little comfort fic i wrote for myself really. hugs from donna is not a want but a need rn 😭

─────────────────────

The cigarette smoke is bitter, leaving a pleasant burn on the back of your throat as you take a deep inhale. For a while, you hold your breath, allowing the chemicals to spread through your lungs before puffing it out of your lips eventually. Your neck, meanwhile, is bared to the sky, eyes lazily roaming over grey clouds of varying shades.

A mindless fingertip is tracing the silver lines along the length of your forearm. Another drag of the cigarette brings a chuckle to your lips, and the sound is dry and deprecating even to your own ears. Smoking is an awful habit, that you fully understand. But at the same time, it is undeniably cathartic. It was either that or a blade to the flesh. In no way do you wish to die, although you would not terribly mind dying. You cannot deny however that you do revel in the sensation of blood blooming on your skin, and in pain, you find euphoria.

With another hearty inhale, the cigarette bud slips through your fingers to be reunited with its fellow friends that have already met their untimely demise beneath your well-worn boots. You are tired, so so tired. Tired of the strangers that call themselves your family, tired of yourself for being so emotionally weak, for actively ruining yourself under the guise of release, tired for your mother’s stead for she has to listen to her brother and sister nitpicking about her daughter on top of handling incessant chores.

In this god-forsaken world, you have learnt that no one else can be as caring and tolerating as your parents, and you appreciate them for it. At least, your parents are endlessly loving which in itself is a luxury that not everyone can afford. You love them, oh how you love them, but you also hate yourself, for their only child ends up being a damaged goods.

At the moment, you do not have a clue where in the world you are, having wandered wherever your feet have been carrying you. A glance around reveals nothing much obscured as it is by thick fog. There is a rush of water somewhere below, and you conclude you must be standing atop a cliff with a waterfall. Sighing, you kick the cigarette buds off the edge, and it looks tempting, liberating: the way they plummet down the misty abyss. A sudden urge to throw yourself off the cliff comes with a vengeance, and it does not help that nicotine has you slightly tipsy, the world around you spinning as you wobble on your legs.

And then, before you know it, you are being pulled into a body, held close to a chest by an encirclement of arms around your back. A delightful aroma journeys up your nose as soon as your cheek collides with black fabric. It is soft to the touch, and smells faintly of tea that is quickly overshadowed by a soothing blend of jasmine and sandalwood. You cannot help but steal a generous inhale. The smoothness of jasmine certainly is a lovely complement to the spiciness of sandalwood.

“Don’t, please. I can’t let you.”

The soft spoken words are uttered by a voice that is charmingly deep, carried to you by a gentle breeze that tickles your exposed nape. A hint of desperation is discernible in her quiet murmur, and the gentleness of it wildly contracts with the cage of arms whose tightness around you becomes nearly unbearable. It is oddly calming, freeing despite the confinement, and the realisation is as much a relief as it is a surprise.

What you have been needing after all is to be embraced, to be comforted, to feel wanted, and how ironic it is that your salvation is found within the arms of a stranger. No questions are asked. You find no strangeness in her actions. Nor does your mind feel stable enough to deem it necessary to compose yourself. The dam breaks, and you fall apart. Burying your face in the chest of this black-cladded stranger while hugging her close to yourself, you cry, oh how you cry, loud, miserable sobs spilling forth your lips as you grab fistful of her dress.

When the body in your arms tenses in an uncomfortable way, you are too far gone to notice, and so too when the arms around your body suddenly lose their bravado. Regardless of the hesitation, you are met with no hands that are forcing you away from her. Only after a moment or two when your tears do not cease does a kind hand find the crown of your head.

Tentatively, placatingly, gentle fingers stroke your hair. You adjust in the hold of your salvation only to be met with even more dark fabric. Through a haze of tears, you regard the veiled woman with curiosity, occasional bouts of hiccuping sobs accompanying your otherwise silent scrutiny.

“You-”

A calloused pad of a thumb that gingerly follows a tear track elicits a sigh from you, and then, the same palm is cradling your cheek, the coolness of which is desirable against your feverish skin. Along with a flex of her fingers on your back, the veil goes aflutter right beneath where her nose is supposed to be when you decide to rest your chin between the junction of her collarbones. No sooner does the hand on your cheek go to cover your eyes than you go boneless in her arms. Your nose meanwhile is tickled by a saccharinely sweet scent that smells both floral and vaguely herbal.

And then, you blink.

And suddenly, the world goes dark.

─────────────────────

[blow-me-a-kis]

Got a call from the doctor about my physical. I'm anemic and they want to do an iron panel?? Which I've never had done before. They've never asked for that?? Maybe its cause Im over 30, now? Made me kinda nervous to have more test asked for, tho.

I've always been anemic. I take iron supplements but I'm staring to think they don't do shit.

I don't eat meat and they didn't ask, so thats def a factor.

I been thinking about giving up vegetarianism. Its just annoying when ppl get food and bring me fries. I do enjoy eating meat, and Im in the South where we do meat best, so its been hard. Man cannot live on potato alone.

I only picked up avoiding meat because I got into cow care videos years ago. Watching how much work goes into just the care of the hooves made me realize, there ain't no way the cows I'm eating get that level of care. The cows I was eating probably sick as hell and got all kids of chronic conditions and pain and depression.

Plus, I cant eat any meat on the bone, cause something about a bone makes me viscerally aware the meat was formally another living being who breathed and felt like me. Which I think its an autism thing? Hyper sympathy or whatever its called??

But I love gyros. Miss those a bunch. Love lamb. I just love ppl who love to cook meat. Not eating it has honestly really made me feel more isolated from rural folks and other PoC in the South. I want gumbo rn tbh. One of the things on my job hunt motivation wishlist is being able to afford meat from butchers and learn more about the care of the animals I consume.

Anyway, rambling about my eating habits to avoid ruminating about potentially scary medical shit lol. I'm gunna go eat my sad vegetarian burger thats literally just corn, because you can't just randomly start eating meat when you haven't for years siiiiggghhhh. I have to figure out what will be my entry meal, so I don't make myself sick.

[invalid-serenity]

What’s currently wrong in my life: (vent post, ignore)

- I’m lonely, I have not seen any of my friends in over a month

- My best friend stole $500 from me

- My mom “borrowed” over $5,000 from me (I’m too scared to do the actual math bc I know it’s more). It happened towards the end of last year when I was truly at my lowest. I was miserable, filled with anguish, literally just broken and incredibly su!cidal. I got assaulted on campus and as a result I stopped going to classes because I was fucking TERRIFIED. My parents were pissed that I wasted a semester so I got a really great job hoping they wouldn’t be angry anymore but they were still upset about me flunking the semester. They were so mad at me and I was still trying to deal with what happened to me on campus, I didn’t know what to do so every time my mom asked for money I gave it to her because I didn’t know any better ( I was in a state of psychosis -100/10 would not recommend, I could not think straight, frequent panic attacks, I would cry before going into work and I would fall apart afterwards. It was awful and I’m sorry I had to go through that). My mom saw me as her personal ATM which led to me being hospitalized ( I was already su!cidal, but that fact that my own mother saw me as nothing more than money making machine hurt like hell, that was literally the final straw)

- Currently unemployed 🤪😍

- Still living with my mom, abu$ive brother, and BPD sister. I want to move out and I’ve came to terms with the fact that it’s not my responsibility to take care of my mom. I’ve done my best. I also need to experience something new. I look forward to traveling and meeting new people. My mom refuses to take the time to better herself and I cannot allow her negativity or bad habits to influence me. I also cannot stay in my current environment if I want to thrive. I still can’t look my brother in the eyes and I flinch every time I hear his voice, it’s is definitely in my best interest to get my shit together so I can leave/live.

- Broke 🤧, like I said my bestie stole the money I was gonna use to get my certification 🌚 now I’m -$500 and with a certification to get a job

- Hungry, my mom is addicted to sugar (literally, it’s actually very scary), my siblings only buy ultra processed junk food and frozen “tv dinners”. I used to buy the majority of the groceries but now I’m jobless but I’m not necessarily at the point where I want to develop a junk food addiction (I will do almost anything for some kimchi right now 😭)

- VERY lonely, I already mentioned it but I actually feel like I’m forgetting how to have social interactions (I have autism, I literally cannot not afford to forget how to socialize. It took so long to get to where I’m at and I refuse to loose my progress)

- Still a virgin. The thing is I can deal with being a virgin, I cannot deal with having limited social interactions. If I have sex, I’ll at least have something to reminisce about (I do NOT want to think about what happened on campus). I look forward to making new friends in general but I really look forward to getting a boyfriend/girlfriend soon cause I’m going through it rn 😭

- my mom is being weird, she wants me to be sick with her (reason #467879 on why I will move out) (I love her but cmon, some time apart would do us both some good, she got a minor case of maunchensen by proxy)

Rant is over and I feel better already, typing is so much faster than writing. My journal is almost full anyways soo ☺️.

I’ll also make a post about all the good things going on in my life (I’m a positive person and I REFUSE to be miserable again)

[fiddlepickdouglas]

.

[elaboratedbee]

Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions). 

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff. 

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots. 

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden. 

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head. 

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe. 

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers. 

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep. 

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction. 

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant. 

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it. 

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.” 

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise. 

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up. 

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.” 

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.  

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill. 

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would. 

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.” 

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.” 

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer. 

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing. 

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information. 

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.” 

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself. 

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone. 

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a  flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind. 

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him. 

I like the flowers. 

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be. 

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet. 

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place. 

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right? 

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you. 

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him. 

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.” 

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away. 

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you. 

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does. 

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away. 

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night. 

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers. 

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm. 

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him. 

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now. 

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back. 

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.” 

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers. 

[martelldoran]

Okay Ms Ali, 23, 28 and 31 for the crazy ask game. And don't hold back I want it all 👀💖🙌❤

Hello Ms. Bec! How has your Sunday been seeing as you'll have had far more a Sunday than me so far!

Right let's go.

23. strange habits?

I had to think about this for a while but one of the stranger ones I have is that when I'm filling a glass or a bottle or something I have to rinse it three times. I don't do it every time but most of the time I feel like I have to rinse it and I don't know why 3 is the magic number but any less and it feels weird and that it isn't 'ready' lol

28. five songs to describe you?

I'm afraid that Ms. Kel beat you to it and I answered that here

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Now here's a question. See I'm going to go with my ideal outfit because I basically hate all my clothes atm. So my ideal wardrobe is basically full of vintage clothes or vintage inspired clothes or clothes made in a vintage way. And the badass outfit I want is to basically look like a lady sherlock Holmes à la Bernadette Banner with the tweed waistcoat and long wool skirt and the American Duchess cherry red Oxfords (which alas cost like $200 and therefore cannot afford rn). That's the goal. I need to do some more sewing though. Since the beginning of the pandemic I've only used my sewing machine once and that was to make masks. And I'm running out of year to accomplish my goal of making a circle skirt.

Sorry, I went off on a bit of a tangent there 😂 does that really answer your question? 🤔 Not so sure!

Thank you for this bec!

Send me weird asks?

[pokemonruby]

i was tagged by @justtherightamountofcooks! thanks! 

Rules: answer the questions and tag 10 people you’d like to get to know better

Name: robin 

Birth year: 2000 

Sign: aries

Height: 5′3″

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs:

i don’t really have a playlist of any kind but all i listen to is video game music anyway. 

Grab the nearest book, turn to page 23, what’s the 17th line?

I flopped down on my bed, exhausted but certain that I wouldn’t sleep. (wow, that’s ironically relatable.) 

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

well, instead of being the recipient of those things, i’ve instead written poems for my boyfriend before. i’m going to work on another one here soon as his christmas present (it’s technically a late anniversary gift since i was preoccupied with my novel at the time, though.)  

When was the last time you played air guitar?

i can’t remember exactly...? it’s not something that i do often. i have a habit of using my keyboard as a piano sometimes when i’m listening to classical music, though. i’d love to learn how to actually play one but i can’t afford it. 

Celebrity Crush(es)?

chadwick boseman and john boyega.... 

What’s a sound you hate/love?

this is pretty basic but i absolutely detest the sound of scratching on a chalkboard. there is nothing more torturous in the world in my opinion. 

moreover, i love the sound of rainfall. it’s so calming.... 

Do you believe in ghosts?

i do, but i’m not the kind of person who immediately assumes that random sounds or other “strange” phenomenon is linked to the supernatural. there’s usually an explanation for most things.... but i do find it intriguing nevertheless. nor do paranormal entities scare me; i don’t believe they actually have the ability to inflict bodly harm on the living, after all. 

Do you believe in aliens?

if you sincerely believe that we are the only lifeforms that exist within our vast universe, then i don’t know what to say to you. 

Do you drive?

that... is the least of my concerns at the moment. 

Last book you read?

"graceling” by kristin cashore. i highly recommend it to those who enjoy books with badass female protagonists (which means you should totally read my book as well... just saying.) 

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

YES 

The last movie you saw?

KLAUS... i cannot begin to describe how much i adored this movie. the story, the characters, the BEAUTIFUL 2d animation... god... it’s almost perfect in my opinion. please watch it. please 

Do you have any obsessions rn?

pokemon sword and shield, currently. but i’ve also been fixated on fire emblem: three houses since july. dragon quest 11 as well. basically every game that i’m playing at this moment in time 

Do you tend to hold grudges?

why “forgive and forget” when you can “resent and remember” :) 

are you in a relationship?

i am! i’ve been in a relationship with my darling boyfriend @bulbasaurcandy for exactly four years now. i consider him my soulmate and i’m looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together <3 

i’m not going to tag anyone but feel free to do this if you want to! 

[moonichor-blog]

TAGGED: @kintsuggi  TAGGING: listen. 

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

NAME.           LUNAFREYA NOX FLEURET ( luna / the moon. roman moon goddess and equivalent to selene. freya / ‘the lady’  another form of freyja, the norse goddess associated with fertility, war, death, seidr - a sort of shamanic magic - gold, love & sex.  nox / latin for night. fleuret / a sword, or foil - which also is a synonym for to prevent ironically )  EYE COLOUR.        sky blue / cyan. ( if you take it in a very microscopic analytical way: the shade of blue that the sky resembles is basically only created by sunlit molecules in the atmosphere. luna is in a very bizarre way a materialized dream of selene’s ‘day-dreaming’ / existing in a mirroring effect opposing her actual self. though we know beyond the blue, there is obscurity and darkness only waiting to be discovered but so majestically hidden, you can only wait till night-time to unveil it, if you can stay for that long. )  HAIR STYLE/COLOUR.        golden hair . ( given freyja is associated with the color gold & seidr, in which luna’s healing magic reminds strongly of such, in prowess, and color...  her hair color might be manipulated by the genetical anchor that this magic has already bitten itself into  ) long locks, mostly styled and pinned up, with sideswap braids fixated across her crown. she certainly needs hair maidens to style her hair each morn  HEIGHT.       167cm ( 5 feet 6 inches ) . CLOTHING STYLE.        extraordinary, elegant, expensive dresses. casual clothing is worn too with elegance. such as blouses and skirts. clean, and oft lily-white.  rarely does she wear black or blue, but would do so occasionally. BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE.        her back. ( dont @ me rn, i have an explanation ) its strong and well toned. its the middle ground between fine and firm. stiffened and always straightened when she stands or sits. its a fragment of her strictness and strength in how she carries herself.  these shoulder blades,  whenever exposed, show those of a saint who does not fear to openly present her best feature indeed.  

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

YOUR FEARS.       actions being in vain. sacrifices done for naught. oh the emotional exposure.    YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE.        writing a journal / diary. a place to express herself between pages and ink, as a rather cheap replacement for someone to talk to. often in form of poetry or not-so-pleasantly looking drawings does she pour thoughts and sentiments and allows herself to let go of all these harbored things in her mind.  YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE.       being objectified. being seen as trophy or treasure. despite her being used to ‘be’ the holy grail that grants miraculous healing --- she is greatly peeved to be seen as only this. however, she can separate professional duty as oracle and her personal disdain, and her compassion comes with a price.    YOUR AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE.         verse dependent. in most cases to fulfill her purpose, no matter how hard the work may be. / with the exception for one particular verse in which she aims to break free from god-given captivity. 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

YOUR FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP .          there is a specific blankness.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MOST .       knowing about things she will not be able to reach for, nor would she accomplish certain things, given her confined limitations. rationally she is not a fan of day dreaming and far too devoted to her duties and the prophecy.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED .         everything. too much. wondering if she did enough. wondering if her knowledge will be enough for the next day, and if not, how much would she need to learn? how long would it take to get back to the sky and how long would it take to carry this body that has her skin but feels not as her right type of skin. how much longer must she endure only to lay into bed the next day and ask the same questions. / most likely, leading back to her objectification pet peeve, and how A CERTAIN SOMEONE does exactly the opposite and it’s tearing her apart and draws her away to think about something else than what she devoted herself to. YOU THINK YOUR BEST QUALITY IS .         to fake a smile. to fake stability. to emotionally detach herself and if she doesn’t, knowing how to stay.  

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES.          single . TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED.       respected . ( some inner desire of her says to be loved, but it’s greatly overshadowed by her rational wish to be respected, to be treated right, which sometimes you cannot receive with love. sometimes you face disrespect, or are not treated the way you expect, even when you are loved, and she is aware of that.  ) BEAUTY OR BRAINS.       brains . DOGS OR CATS.         both. whilst the moon has a certain relationship to canine-animals ( example, wolves howling to the moon ) freyja has a fondness to cats.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

LIE.       yes . BELIEVE IN YOURSELF .        barely , though, forcefully.  BELIEVE IN LOVE.         as a rarity . WANT SOMEONE.         hah.

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

BEEN ON STAGE.       yes, mostly speeches / preaches / gospel.  and eventually the ceremony of the ascension as oracle required a public first healing performance  DONE DRUGS.       no, not for addiction purposes. rather medication, if any.  CHANGED WHO YOU WERE TO FIT IN.         yes & no, afford to blend in with the casual masses she cannot in her grander role as public figure. she is in fact very much residing in utter distance from where she could fit in, therefore she did not change who she was, willingly. /  she only attempted to ‘fit in’ on her getaway from the empire, and during travels across Eos, only to not out-stand too much and get caught on the long run. less extravagant clothing and hairstyles was all she did for that. old habits die hard though, such as extremely formal speech and her posture. 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

FAVORITE COLOR.          white / silver and black. FAVORITE ANIMAL.         she appreciates any animal FAVORITE MOVIE.           she is more into books than anything. though she would enjoy drama & thrillers FAVORITE GAME.            chess certainly. 

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DAY YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE.       tuesday, 4th of september. HOW OLD WILL YOU BE.        25 years as mortal ( which is a lie, she doesn’t even reach 25, she dies being 24 )   /    4.5+ billion years and onward as selene AGE YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY.         N / A DOES AGE MATTER.        depends on the case. you can be the oldest being, and still be foolish and unwise. intercourse-wise, the age of consent is still something of importance.  

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

BEST PERSONALITY .        ‘contrasting’  /  ability to reflect her own madness /  humorous enough to make her genuinely laugh  /   give the feeling of safety & openness  BEST EYE COLOR .        any BEST HAIR COLOR .        any BEST THING TO DO WITH A PARTNER .         existing   /  feeling  /  closeness  /  honesty  ( very simple and base things but as humane as they are, its something she is not very practiced with )

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I LOVE.        balance  /   chaos I FEEL.         light   /  heavy  /  chained  /  caged I HIDE.         nothing   /    everything  I MISS.         my body I WISH.        for release. 

[myteasgonecoldiwonderwhy]

Disturbed

12-02-2021

Maths let me down. It’s only a matter of time till chem and cs follow. 

Disturbed. That’s what I am rn. I’m surrounded with people, but it’s not people I want to keep around myself. Assholes at uni, assholes at school, have steadily and surely ensured, that I lose my cool. It’s way better to just be alone.

Not that I have been entirely honest to myself? Math test could have gone better, CS could have been prepped better. I am finding myself unable to cut down on auxillary stuff - that extra hour on YouTube seems so so appealing. I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, yk? Just can’t force myself to solve differential equations, just can’t read theory on pointers, just can’t put up with all this shit being hurled at me, day in and day out. I’m so so done.

Yet, I have to do it. All of it. I know it, which is why it feels even worse. Coz you don’t have a choice. The competition is fierce, one cannot afford to sit down and watch the others zoom past yourself.

Or am I overthinking? Am I seriously underconfident, to the point that I have developed an inferiority complex? I do have a tendency of blaming myself for situations and outcomes in which I had no role to play; but is this what’s going on rn? Idk for sure - but I know that I am usually a bit too hard on myself.

Take it one day at a time - sounds great, however it is not easy. Taking care of yourself is not easy. Especially when you have the chronic habit of “I’m just the absolute worst there is”

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You Pt. 10 Preview

Dunno if you guys had a read at my attempt at Gladio smut. Hope it was a decent distraction.

Anyway, have a preview! I really don’t know when this will go up. It’s not at where I’d like it rn.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Ignis brought (Y/N) upstairs to their room with Gladio’s help and placed her down on his bed. He stood back up and arched his back, feeling and hearing his spine crack aloud.

“She’s a lot heavier than I last remembered...” the spectacled adviser casually remarked with a grunt and stretched out his arms over his head. “Don’t let her hear that,” the rugged guard advised with a smirk. The air in the room turned moderately serious. “Hey, Iggy… ‘Bout what I said at camp last night–” “It’s fine,” he quickly interjected. “It was a wake-up call I needed.” “So did she tell you? How she felt n’ all?”

Ignis remained silent and sat at the edge of the bed, looked at her and sighed.

“She did.” “But you turned her down,” he assumed. “Because of royal duties.” “The adviser cannot put his life before the crown for his own needs.” “I get what you’re sayin’, but there are some things you can’t let pass by.” “I guess… we’ll just have to see.”

Leaving her in the room to rest, Gladio and Ignis rejoined Noct and Prompto in the lobby to plan out their next step. The King’s Shield, being reluctant to leave Iris on her own, decided to escort her to Cape Caem. However, taking her along in the Regalia meant they had to leave (Y/N) behind. And since Ignis wanted a little time with (Y/N), they decided to stay in town for a few extra days to gather funds and supplies before setting out on the road again.

The lone rogue eventually roused back into the world of the living in a daze. She craned her head up and lazily looked around to see she was alone in an unfamiliar room. Scattered sunlight filtered through the shuttered windows. The couch at the far end had a set of neatly folded blanket with a pillow on top. She rubbed her face to rid her of grogginess and let out a long sigh while motioning to sit up on the bed. The room door then slowly opened.

“You’re finally up,” Ignis greeted and closed it behind him softly. “Where… am I?” (Y/N) croaked out and swallowed hard down her parched throat. “At The Leville.” “How long was I out?” she moaned out and ran her hand through her hair heavily and sighed. Her sleep-ridden eyes followed him to the far end of the room. “Little past two days.”

He drew the wooden shades back to get some sunlight in, making her shield her eyes with her hands and groaned aloud.

“Two days? Jeez...” “Your sleeping habits haven’t changed at all,” he remarked and poured her a glass of water; she downed it with reckless abandonment when he handed it over. Satiating her thirst, (Y/N) took another deep inhale and pushed the covers off of herself. He immediately walked over to help her up. Her leg muscles felt like lead and every bone in her body ached.

“How’s your body feeling?” “Like a friggin’ Catoplebas’ head rammed into me for some truffles,” she grunted and placed a steady hand on Ignis’ shoulder for support as she sat up at the edge of the bed. Her body hunched over. “I think I overdid it this time.” “I’d say so… Having three Reliquiae at your disposal.” “Ah...” (Y/N) briefly paused. “So you know,” followed with a dry chuckle and looked down at her flexing toes to get some blood flow going. “Of course you do.” “Have you tried using them all at once?” “I’d probably die if I did.” “Would you still be able to create your own weapon if you have Azrael’s?” “It’s possible but… I don’t think so.”

Her eyes wandered over to her boots, where her daggers could be found.

“I’m too attached to those,” she said fondly. Ignis’ eyes looked in the direction she was and recognized the weapons from the worn out hilt alone.

“I haven’t seen those since--” “Our training days,” she finished with a small smile. “I have to do maintainence on them. Not all of us have the ability to summon their weapons out of thin air.” She took another deep breath and sighed. “What time is it now?” “Around eleven in the morning.”

(Y/N) groaned aloud and slowly got up to gathered her belongings. As weighty and in pain as she was currently, she can’t afford to slack off right now.

“Where are you going?” “Home.” “Home?” “I got a place here.” “You did?” “Technically, yes...” she sheepishly replied and laced up her left boot. Slowly standing up, she gave herself a nice, long and steady stretch with her arms up, feeling her heavy sleep-ridden muscles elongate with the motion. “I’ll explain. C’mon.”

[muchmoremarsh]

😬😬😬tw body issues, tw disorder eating(?), fitness and stuff like that

my friend posted a photo of me from my side/profile and godam....my body literally looks like a lego block. additionally when my waistband goes under my belly i’ve got i just feel like shit, it’s disgusting. and oh my hips and thighs are just so...ew i....i really am not comfortable with the way i look. there’s so much about me that makes me unhappy and dysphoric. it’s like....i would LIKE to feel happy with being chubby but the places i am chubby in just make me feel dysphoric and are in ~feminine~ places and no amount of fat redistribution is gonna shift my genetics. i don’t like being fat. i want to be lean, skinny and muscley. i want that dorito body. no wonder i can never find clothes to fit me the way i want bc i’m so HUGE, not muscle wise but the fat content in my body is....depressing.

im happy if you can be fat and happy like great, you do you, whatever. im just....i go through a few periods of disorderd eating an fitness focus, fall out of it and then get self hating and then binge and then it’s a cycle and i want to get on top of it. i want a healthier body and lifestyle, which not only make me FEEL better, i will look more attractive and it will be easier doing the sports i love, and my career. my body gets in the way of so much, i just wanna be able to wear clothes properly and feel good. i wanna see my collar bone, and have defined muscles on my arms. i want my jawline to POP! i want my thighs to lose all that fat inner layer and be like two sticks. i want the stupid pouch on my stomach to flatten out, i want my hips to disappear and get that distance V shape showing my hip bone. i want to see my wrist bone, let it be thin at my joints and muscley on my limbs. i want to put my hands on my hips with my thumb on my back n the rest on my stomach and be able to grab around my body with it all fitting in my hand like so many others do. i want so much and i know i could get it if i stopped being a BITCH. i can’t afford a gym membership so i thought let’s start jogging but it hurts, i physically cannot go outside and let people see how disgusting i am, let alone without wearing a binder. even a loose one. my chest is so large that i HAVE to bind otherwise i might just end up wrapping my little stumpy chubby fat body up in electric fencing and upping the voltage to maximum lololol. my friends and i joke about my weight and i do make fun of myself but it’s genuinely because i HATE the way i look and wish i was just fit.

im gonna go back to kickboxing fitness and maybe start jogging again because despite how much i hate cardio, i KNOW it’s what i really need to shift the fat to feel comfortable. i have to restrict my bad eating habits again but it also might mean not seeing certain family members again due to being SURROUNDED by food. i was making some good progress before certain events like easter come up....it’s difficult to say no to bad food. i have to make a list of food to buy that i know is safe to eat. i need to split my healthy carbs and bad carbs, no deep fried or heavily processed stuff, try and swap process protein for natural protein like fish. portion control is also a big one, i started counting stuff like my cashew nuts so i will start doing that again. i think puttingmy food in small bowls instead of large plates also helps. i’ve also been avoiding stuff like cheese and peanut butter- those are my vices but full of fat, and i will try my hardest to now not constantly buy my routine yogurt peanuts. i love those dearly as a samefood rn but it cannot continue if i want to shift the pounds. i usually go my college day without eating but i will bring maybe a salad to eat, or several pieces of fruit (being mindful of sugar content.) oh and sugar- i did start making strides in that area but again i slipped. no sugar in drinks. if i’m thirsty have water- instead of squash, drink LOOOTS of water, water weight can be shifted.