#i feel so guilty for not liking but there was SO MUCH that they left out

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[lividstar]

coming from someone who is unfortunately a fraction of the set of writers who are considering leaving this platform due to the absence of support, this post struck a chord deep within me as all points stated are harsh truths. though without the intent to view the audienceʼs preferences in a negative light, i often find myself thinking—“do my fics not gain sufficient attention due to my reluctance to write erotic literature?” and each time i pick up my pen, iʼm always left considering the idea of weaving smut into the stories i write for the sake of tending to the taste buds of the readers in this app. it pours a deep sense of self-pity into my heart—an amount way more than iʼd like to admit :ʼ)

i do admit that i, myself, indulge in such works of fiction during the rare times i have the opportunity to, and my statements do not intend to make smut writers feel guilty for writing what their heart desires them to. rather, i aim to point out how atinyblr sort of lacks versatility when it comes to appreciating fics. whether the writer you come across writes for sexually depraved individuals or for those who yearn to read about the magical fantasies they dream of living, it is important to show them support nevertheless. one way to do this is to leave a like, reblog, or if iʼm not asking for too much, maybe even a feedback—something i am always excited to receive, as they are what i read whenever i find myself doubting if i really am a decent writer.

tldr: consistent expression of support is the engine that runs a writerʼs train of creativity, so please keep it running :)

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post. 

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics’ is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?' 

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well. 

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

[moonlightkitties]

What's Left of Us - Joel Miller x Fem! Reader.

Summary:

Sarah’s death shattered you. Shattered Joel. Shattered everything you built together.

Once, you were inseparable—partners in love, in life, in raising your daughter. Now, you barely speak.

For years, you survive. Nothing more.

But when you and Joel are tasked with smuggling a girl across the country—a girl who’s reckless, stubborn, and far too much like Sarah—the distance between you begins to crack. The fire in Joel’s eyes that once burned for you starts to flicker back to life. And for the first time in a long time, you wonder if there's still something left to save.

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: This chapter is not proof read and has light smut.

CW: NICU mentioned/child death/angst/anxiety/panic/broken bone/gun wound/guns/violence.

Chapter One - A Life Once Ours.

"I'm going to be out late," you tell Joel, who's dozing in your shared bed a few feet away from the dresser where you were trying to find some clean pair of scrubs. You sigh and throw a pillow at his face, making him gasp and shoot up off the bed.

"What was that for?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes from the five hours of sleep he'd gotten.

"I said I'm going to be out late," you repeated, your voice showing a hint of annoyance.

"So?" he asked, his voice exhausted.

"So," you sigh, "you're gonna have to figure out dinner. My parents sent you a gift card to that place you like. Maybe you and Sarah can go?"

Joel exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I kinda wanna spend my birthday with you too, y'know?"

You sighed, feeling incredibly guilty, "I know, but we're understaffed again, and I can't lose this job."

You walked over to your bedside table, opened the drawer and tossed a box on the bed. "What's this?" Joel asked, picking it up. It was wrapped in light blue paper, a bow resting on the top.

You blushed a little bit as he opened it, "Well... since you never got yourself a ring, I figured I'd get you one."

He unwraps it carefully, his tired eyes widening as he lifts the lid. Inside sits a simple silver wedding band. The two of you got married young, right after finding out you were pregnant with Sarah. Money had been tight—tight enough that he couldn’t afford one for himself.

Joel stares at the ring for a long moment before looking up at you. His expression softens, the exhaustion in his face replaced with something warmer, something unspoken.

"Darlin'..." Joel began, looking up at you.

"Do you...do you like it?" you ask, suddenly feeling nervous.

"No...I-I love it," he said, a smile resting on his face.

You sighed in relief and felt him grab your hand and suddenly you were pulled onto the bed, you let out a gasp of surprise and giggled as he nuzzled his head into your neck. You pulled away from him after a few moments and kissed him before getting off the bed, "I'm gonna say bye to Sarah and head out, don't forget to pack her lunch." Joel nodded and got up out of the bed as you went across the hallway into Sarah's bedroom.

You push the door open gently and step inside. Sarah is fast asleep, her small frame curled beneath the duvet, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Smiling softly, you kneel beside her and shake her awake. She groans, blinking sleepily up at you.

"What is it?" she mumbles.

"Jus' wanted to tell you I was heading to work," you whisper, pulling her into a hug.

She sighs sleepily, wrapping her arms around you, and for a long moment, neither of you move.

Finally, she pulls away, rubbing her eyes.

"Love you, bug," you murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Sarah hums in response, already drifting back to sleep as you tuck the blanket around her.

You smile softly and head out, closing her door on the way. Joel was already up getting coffee when you went to get your keys, you kissed him one last time before heading into your car and driving towards the city.

------

The drive to the city consisted of you listening to Sarah's Dawn of the Wolf soundtrack she forgot to take out and humming to the scene where the main character stays in her room for months on end after her vampire boyfriend left.

You smile thinking when you and Sarah dragged Joel out to see it, he didn't want to of course but he loved his girls so he didn't have a choice.

Pulling into the employee only parking space, you realized how crowdy and busy it looked, far busier than usual.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed open the door and headed inside, weaving through the chaos toward the NICU. It was where you spent most of your time, caring for fragile newborns and their anxious parents.

Some days, the sight of those tiny, struggling babies brought back the memories—the fear, the helplessness of watching Sarah fight for her life in this very place.

Other days, you felt grateful. Grateful that she made it. Grateful that now, you got to help mothers who were living through the same nightmare you once did.

Your shift went by as normal, talking to your co-workers, giving babies their medication and feeding them, rocking the restless ones to sleep so their mothers could get their much needed rest. The only thing that seemed strange was that the ER and ICU were on lockdown and that your higherups looked really worried, so worried they made you leave early and locked the maternity ward down.

"Hey, Mrs. Miller!"

You turn around to see one of the interns, Stacey, rushing towards you as you stood near the exit.

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear about that patient that attacked one of the nurses in the ER?"

"No, why?" you ask.

She shrugged, "we don't know, they’re not giving us any new information, but it seemed pretty bad. Anyways, I gotta go, see ya tomorrow!" As Stacey left, you shivered a bit but shrugged it off, the ER gets psychological patients all the time.

As you stepped outside, the air felt different—thicker, colder. The usual hum of the city had shifted, replaced by a more frantic energy. You could hear the distant wail of sirens, the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off buildings as ambulances and police cars lined the streets.

It was clear: something was wrong.

You tried to ignore the knot forming in your stomach, telling yourself it was probably just some isolated incident. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Your car felt like the safest place in the world as you slid into the driver’s seat, but even then, you couldn’t help but glance around, half-expecting someone to rush past or knock on your window.

The roads were quieter now, but you could still feel the pulse of anxiety in the air. Whatever was happening, it was spreading.

It was around three in the afternoon as you pulled into the driveway, Joel still wasn't home and Sarah should have been home from school by now.

You walked into the house, your worry drifting away when you walked into the kitchen and spotted Sarah doing her homework at the table.

"Hey, baby," you said, kissing her head. She looked up at you in surprise "Daddy said you were working late," she said, glancing at the clock. You shrugged, "Yeah, but they were being nice and let me get off early," you told her, trying to make it seem like you weren't worried about something.

"You need help?" you ask, sitting beside her. She shakes her head, "Nah, I got it," she said. You chuckled and got up, "well, if you do, I'll be upstairs."

You made your way up the stairs, and into your bedroom to change out of your scrubs and into something more comfortable. You settled into your bed and pulled out your phone to check if Joel had messaged you.

0 New Messages.

You put your phone on your bedside table, he would text or call if he needed you. Pulling the covers over your exhausted and sore body, you let sleep take you.

"Mom?" you heard a voice, and opened your eyes as you felt someone shaking you. You grumbled and smacked their hand away. "Mommy!" Sarah exclaimed, you gasped and opened your eyes, looking around frantically, "what?" you asked, grasping your chest as you realized it was only her.

"I'm hungry.." she mumbled.

You sighed and got up, grabbed your phone and looked at the time. It was five in the afternoon and you've been asleep for two hours. You stretched and got up, "when your daddy comes home will get something from that place he likes, okay?" you say, patting her on the head. She grumbled, "He told me he's not gonna be home until later tonight." You furrowed your eyebrows, "Really? He didn't tell me that." Sarah shrugged, not really seeming to care whether he told you or not.

"I guess we can order pizza and save the gift card for this week," you said, going downstairs to look through the menus that Joel has kept throughout the years. "What do you want?" you ask, showing her the menus, she looked through them until she handed you the one she wanted. You dialed the number and told them what you and Sarah wanted, you would save the food you didn't eat for Joel when he came home.

"I have a cake mix in the pantry we can make before your daddy comes home," you tell her, flopping down on the couch and turning the T.V. on. You and Sarah settled on watching Dawn of the Wolf until the pizza came. You both ate until your stomachs hurt and by seven-thirty, Sarah was sleeping. You smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears and got up to make that cake, she would want to help but you knew she needed to sleep.

After you mixed all the ingredients together, you popped the cake into the oven for twenty-five minutes and went upstairs to check your phone.

You had a new text from Joel which read "Going to be out late, forgot to tell you this morning, left Sarah a note to order food, love you." You smiled and texted him back, "I got out early and we already ate, ordered pizza, making you a cake that we can eat when you get back, love you too 🥰🥰."

You also had a next text from one of your closest co-workers ten minutes ago.

"Watch the news, something weird is going on."

You turned your phone off and turned the T.V. that was in your and Joel's room, like a few hours ago, police and ambulances were everywhere. It worried you, something awful was happening. You turned off the T.V. and instead grabbed a book you were meaning to read. A few pages in, the oven sounded, indicating the cake was done so you went downstairs to take it out and leave it on the table so you could ice it when it was cooled down.

Sarah walked in a few minutes later and frowned "I wanted to help make it," she said, sitting at the table.

"I know, but you needed sleep, you can ice and decorate it though," you suggested. Sarah nodded and you brough down the pink icing you didn't get to use for Sarah's birthday and a few candles. As the cake cooled down and Sarah iced it, you took your portable camera out and snapped a few pictures. "Moooom," Sarah groaned, trying to hide.

"Aw, come on, please?" you ask, "Just a few?"

Sarah sighed and let you take a few more and after a few minutes, the cake was done and decorated. Sarah used a bit of the gel we got at the store a few days earlier and wrote, "Happy Birthday Daddy," on the front.

The cake was in a container on the counter and all you had to do know was wait for Joel to come home so you could enjoy it with him.

And enjoy a few other things too...

It was about ten o'clock when you awoke to the sound of a door openeing, Joel was back home. You sat up, it was dark outside and you were exhausted. Rolling over to Joels side of the bed, you grabbed his pillow and inhaled his scent. Earthy, coffee, and leather, that's what you smelled, his scent was engraved in your mind. The door opened and Joel smiled, "hey, darlin'," he said, sitting down beside you as you scooted and sat up.

"Hey," you said, scooting closer to him, grabbing his hand and holding it.

"You're wearing it," you pointed out the ring you gave him this morning and he shrugged "had no where else for it," he joked. You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully, "Is Sarah awake?" you asked, looking at the clock. Joel shook his head, "No, I took her to bed," he sighed, laying down. You laid down beside him and started kissing up his neck, going towards his jawline.

"What are you doin'?" he asked, a smirk laced in his voice.

"What? Can I not take care of the birthday boy?" you ask, straddling his waist and kissing him deeper.

He groaned into you and grasped your thighs rolling his crotch into yours. You noticed something on his right arm and looked closely at it "Where'd you get this?" you asked, the watch on his wrist secure.

"Sarah gave it to me," he said, kissing your neck.

"We have a cake downstairs that we made," you told him. He nodded, not really interested, "That's nice, now can you get back to kissing me?" he said, raising your shirt over your head, and audibly gasping at the sight of your bare chest. You giggled and before you could unzip his pants, his phone rang. You both groaned but he answered it.

"Hello?" He asked, irritated.

You could hear a frantic, female, voice on the phone. It was most likely Mrs. Cooper, one of your closets neighbors.

"O-Okay, Mrs. Cooper, I'll be there shortly," he hung up and threw his t-shirt that you discarded on the floor back over his body.

"What's wrong?" you asked, putting your own shirt on.

"Nothing," he sighed, "She said Jimmy don't look right and she needs my help getting him to the hospital."

"Um, okay," you said, following him out of your room.

"I'll be back, okay?" he said, giving you a kiss before heading out of the door.

You sighed and flopped on the couch, so much for spoiling him tonight.

Hours passed and still Joel hasn't come back, it was two in the morning and he hasn't answered any of your calls or texted you back. You thought about contacting your brother-in-law, Tommy, but thought against it. He would be fast asleep. To pass the time, you turned the news on, and gasped. Fires were blazing through out the city, people screaming and police, including the military, everywhere.

Your chest tightened, that was close by, Joel could be hurt.

You rushed up the stairs, grabbed your phone and dialed Joel's number, it went to voicemail, you tried again, voicemail, again, voicemail. You were audibly gasping for air, panicking.

"Mom?"

You whipped around and let out a sigh as Sarah walked in, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey, baby," you said, "do you know where your daddy is?"

She shook her head, "No, b-but I'm worried, I heard a-"

You shook your head and pulled her into a hug "I will not let anything hurt you, okay? You have nothing to be worried about."

"Promise?" Sarah asked, her voice breaking.

"Promise," you said, kissing her forehead. "

You both walked into Joel's office, and still, he was no where to be found. You were about to speak until the sliding door slammed opened and Joel ran inside, covered in blood.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing towards him.

"Stay back!" he exclaimed, "Are you both okay? You hurt?"

You shook your head, "no, were okay," you said, making Sarah stand back as Joel grabbed his pistol and loading it with bullets.

"What's goin' on?" Sarah asked, fear in her voice.

"It's the Coopers, somethin' ain't right with em, I think...I think their sick."

"What kinda sick?" Sarah asked.

You and Sarah gasped as a figure banged into the sliding glass door, you pulled Sarah back behind you as Jimmy, or what was left of Jimmy, threw his body into the door.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, terrified.

"Honey, c'mere, c'mere," he demanded, shoving both and you Sarah behind him, one arm shielding you, one on the gun. The door shattered, and Jimmy was growling, and flailing his arm around, Joel walked towards the doors of his office, still shielding you and Sarah. "Jimmy, I am warning you!"

Jimmy threw himself at Joel and you held onto Sarah, as Joel shot him.

Sarah was hyperventilating and all you could do was hold her.

"Go, go!" Joel yelled, rushing the two of you out of the office. "You...you shot him," Sarah said, her voice quiet and shaky. Joel put his hands on her shoulder, "Listen to me, there is something bad going on, we have got to get outta here. Do you understand me?" Sarah nodded "Yeah."

Car lights illuminated the room and Joel grabbed Sarah's hand, leading her, with you following, out of the house. You kept following him but you wished he would stop so you could grab some stuff, like Sarah's baby album or your wedding pictures. You settled on grabbing a picture frame, Joel and baby Sarah the day she graduated from the NICU. You rushed out of the house and went into the back seat.

"Where were you?" Joel asked, from the front seat.

You pulled out the picture from and he sighed and shook his head.

You took the picture out of the frame, folded it, and put it in your pant pocket.

"Can we hear what's on the radio?" Sarah asked as Tommy drove out of the driveway. Tommy agreed but when he tried to turn it on, it was only static. "No phone, no radio, yeah, were doing great," he muttered.

Sarah settled in beside you and you held onto her.

"They say where to go?" Joel asked.

"They said uh..Army's puttin' up road blocks on the highway. Not gettin' into Travis County."

"Then we need to get out of here. Take 71."

Police cars, sirens and lights on, sped down the road when Tommy turned right.

"Did they say how many were dead?" Sarah asked, looking out of the window.

"Probably a lot. I saw this one family mangled up inside their home."

"Tommy," you snapped, glaring at him from the back seat.

"Right," Tommy muttered, "Sorry."

"How did this happen?" Joel asked, a car was slammed into a pole, "they got no idea," Tommy replied, "at first they were saying it was just the South. Now they're goin' about the East Coast, West Coast." Tommy passed a burning barn, you looked away, you couldn't bare thinking about whoever was in it. "Are we sick?" Sarah asked after a few moments. Joel turned around in his seat and glanced at you, "No, of course not." Sarah leaned into you, "How do you know?" she asked. "They uh.." Tommy began, "they said it was only people in the city, we're good."

"But...momma works in the city," she said, looking at you in fear.

"I'm okay," you reassured her, "I promise you I'm not sick."

She nodded and leaned back, seeming reassured.

A family was on the side of the road, a small child standing beside them, Tommy slowed down but Joel made him go on, not wanting to chance it. "Joel, they have a kid," you said, a little surprise that he would refuse to help them. "So do we," he snapped, "I ain't risking it." You passed the hospital you worked at and the highway was filled to the brim with other cars. A man got out of his car to yell at someone and one of those things came out of the woods and attacked him, another one climbing into his car to attack the people in it.

Strings of swears left both Tommy and Joel as Tommy pulled back and sped down the road and into the city where people were frantically trying to escape. Tommy slowed down as to not hit people while Joel was telling him to speed up. When he did get through, he drove down the city. Headlights were coming towards the truck and the next thing you knew, the car was flipped over on its side and a shard of glass was stuck in your thigh. You groaned, your head dizzy and frantically looked around for Sarah.

"Sarah?" you asked, your voice loud and frantic.

"Here!" she said.

You could see Joel getting out and one of those things attacking him. You gasped when your palms hit glass and your heart pounded as the thing got closer to his face. A bang was heard and the creature fell to the ground. Sarah got out first, she whimpered when her leg hit the ground and Joel helped you out, giving you a hug and noticing your thigh.

"It's nothing, I can still walk, you're gonna have to carry Sarah." Joel nodded and handed his pistol to Tommy, who took the rear as the four of you walked down the frantic city streets. People were screaming, buildings were on fire and your leg burned with every push.

"Daddy, I'm scared," you heard Sarah say. Your heart ached, you never wanted her to experience something like this.

A car exploded into a gas station and as you turned into another street, people and buildings were on fire. You could hear Sarah and Joel speaking but couldn't make out way their were saying. You all turned into an alleyway, but still the creatures were following you. You and the others made your way into a building and Tommy was holding the door closed, arms trying to get through.

"Get to the highway!" Tommy yelled.

"What?" Joel asked, determined not to leave his younger brother behind.

"Go! You got the girls!" Tommy demanded, not taking no for an answer.

"I will meet your there," Joel said, indicating for you to follow him and when you did, you could still see the infected following, you pushed up, making sure to run faster but still stay behind Joel, you couldn't let them get to her. As the three of you headed up the hill, gunshots sounded, the infected falling to the ground. A light blinded you, Joel and Sarah as you stopped beside him.

"It's okay, baby, we're safe," Joel told Sarah, "you okay?" he asked, you nodded "fine," you replied, your voice shaking, you were nauseous, and wanted to throw up but couldn't bring yourself to.

"Hey! We need help!" Joel begged, getting up and walking towards the solider.

"Stop!" the man ordered, pulling his weapon up.

"Okay...we're not sick," Joel began, taking a step back to seem less intimidating.

"Got a couple of civilians in the outer perimeter," the soldier said into his walkie-talkie, "please advise."

"Daddy what about Uncle Tommy?" Sarah asked.

"We're gonna get you and your momma to safety and go back for him, okay?" Tommy said.

"Sir, there's a little girl," you heard the solider say. You took a step back, not trusting his tone.

"But...yes, sir."

The soldier pulled his gun up and the light again blinded the three of you. Joel gasped and you got in front of them, the soldier blasted his weapon and the three of you fell down the hill, a bullet grazed your arm and you frantically searched for Sarah as the man walked over to you and Joel.

Before the soldier could shoot Joel, another gun flared and he fell to the ground. Tommy was standing, Joel's pistol raised.

"Oh, no..."

You turned to where he was looking and rushed, not caring about your thigh or arm and collapsing next to your daughter. Sarah's shirt was pooled with blood, she clutched your arm and Joel's as he came next to her open side.

Tears blurred your vision as you wiped Sarah’s tear-streaked face, her cries stabbing through your heart. You rocked her in your arms, whispering nonsense, anything to comfort her. Anything to take the pain away.

Joel tried to pull you away from Sarah, but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him. Your hands gripped her tighter, her soft sobs breaking you further.

Then her chest stopped raising, you looked, her eyes were open but they were hollow.

"Don't do this to us, baby," Joel begged.

You wailed as you realized what had happened, Joel held you close, his chest falling in soft sobs.

Your baby, your baby girl who you saw fight in the hospital, was gone just like that.

[alaia777]

i so squealed when i saw ur recent post could i request can we trade? yours is way better! with rin tysmmm i love ur work

oh my goddddd thank you so so so much, i hope you like it :’) i also love ur work !!!!!

if you knew he was going to frown and grumble the entire walk to the café, you would’ve just left him at home. but no—he couldn’t listen. you warned him. you threatened him. if he so much as touched a football on his day off, you were going to invite his brother over to your guys’ place. and yet, here he was, dragging his feet like a kid forced to run errands, acting like this was some huge punishment.

the least he could do was suck it up and come with you, especially after you sat through 90 minutes of a match between two teams you couldn’t even be bothered to remember.

“if you want to spend quality time together, then you should sit down and do something i enjoy for once.” that’s what he said at the time. and thinking back on it now, you try not to cringe. he wasn’t just watching the game—he was in it, barking orders at the screen like a wannabe captain. or coach. either way, he gave you the ick that day.

“my friend told me this place is amazing. they make the best crepes in the world,” you say, glancing at him.

he stops for a second, frowning even harder—if that was even possible.

“crepes? you made me skip lunch because you were taking me out to eat, and we’re getting crepes?”

you ignored him and picked up the pace as soon as the café came into view. luckily, it wasn’t too crowded—you wanted to sit down and actually enjoy the atmosphere. you didn’t bother waiting for him, heading straight to the counter to order. and, okay, maybe you went a little overboard with the toppings. whipped cream, chocolate, and peanut butter sounded like a great combo in theory. but now, staring at your plate, you weren’t so sure. especially when you saw his. simple, golden, and so much more appetizing than the sugary mess in front of you.

you cut into yours and take a bite—or at least, you try to. the way all the toppings mix together on your fork makes your stomach turn. rin doesn’t even have to look up to know you’re staring at his. you’re not exactly subtle, practically slouching over the table to get your plates closer together. he can already hear you—

“can we trade? yours is way better!” you blurt out, already reaching with your fork.

but he’s faster, dragging his plate away before you can even think about stealing a bite.

“no. yours looks disgusting. what were you even thinking when you ordered that?”

you huff, glaring at him. “i was hungry, okay? not all of us spend hours strategizing our meals like we’re in a champions league final.”

you sigh and settle back into your chair, feeling a little guilty. how selfish of you to want to take his plate after you starved him of his lunch just because you couldn’t think straight in front of so many amazing toppings and flavors. you glance up briefly to see him getting out of his chair, probably to use the restroom, and you don’t bother looking away from your plate. maybe if you just open it up and eat it from the inside… or maybe you could fold it differently? you squint at it, trying to find a way to make this work.

you don’t even know how much time has passed since you started trying to figure out how to eat your damn crepes. all you know is that you’re completely lost in your thoughts when suddenly, your plate is replaced with another one. one with a single topping on it—your favorite one! you look up, and rin is already sitting back down, casually eating his own crepes.

“rinnnn,” you say in a whiny, happy voice, leaning toward him with a wide grin, “you actually love me so much, like, you can’t live without me, right? and you want to marry me right now, right?”

rin doesn’t even look up from his food, his tone deadpan as he answers.

“yeah, sure. after you finish that thing you call a crepe.”

[deathon1leg]

byler & yellow curtains (inspired by this incredible post by @love-byers)

i wanted to contribute some of my own findings (which i’m sure have all been pointed out before—i’m no genius discoverer) and personal analysis!!

this post got way longer than i thought it would, but i kept noticing more things to talk about. it’ll be s4 focused but i have some from other seasons too if anyone’s interested in another post :)

mike and el’s fight:

outside of el’s room you can see yellow/orange curtains through jonathan’s door, and some of el’s window through hers. when mike goes in, the window is the brightest and most vibrant thing by far and its curtains are WIDE open. when he goes to put a plate down the left curtain is almost perfectly between them, dividing them like a wall.

at first she doesn’t look at him, so only we (and not mike) get to see her face, which is cast in light and a bit out of focus. (also, the yellow-green tree she’s putting back together for her diorama is peaking out in the corner.)

the bottom two pics are el’s POV, hence the blurry background mike—she feels disconnected from/misunderstood by him.

when she finally turns around is when she’s talking about being different and not belonging anywhere (which, while in an entirely different way, mike can relate to). the light hardly hits her face anymore because it’s shifted to mike’s POV. he sees her in shadow.

the next time we get a full shot of the window is when el says mike can’t even write “i love you”, when she stands in front of it and it frames her.

i wanna point out mike’s face here. he looks so—guilty? afraid? vulnerable? just more genuine than he does the rest of the fight. he knows he’s been caught, and he doesn’t have an excuse (which is why he ends up deflecting and calling her ridiculous)

when el grabs the letters, the window is between them, separating them, and a curtain is directly behind her. also, she says “from mike” or “from” a total of 7 times. coincidence? idk. maybe i’m reaching.

the window/curtains take up a whole half of el’s shot here, and are still “between” them in continuity—it’s as if they’re another character interrupting the shot, just like will did many times in s4 m*leven scenes.

a few lines before “they’re nobodies and you’re a superhero” mike says “you know what i think of you, you’re the most incredible person in the world”. it comes across as ‘i think you’re the most incredible person because you’re a superhero’.

i think el’s “not anymore” is a response both to “you’re a superhero” and the “you know what i think of you”, because this is when she comes to the conclusion that mike doesn’t see her as the most incredible person anymore, and that mike loved her powers/his idea of her rather than her as a person (i do believe mike cares for her a ton and loves her as a friend, but this is el’s perspective) .

her expression changes as she realizes these things, and mike can tell he didn’t convince her.

mike’s talk w/ will about his and el’s fight:

will paces back and forth in front of the yellow/orangeish curtained window in jonathan’s room, venting about everything. it’s not actually a curtain but a sheet/tapestry, so it doesn’t do much at all to block the bright light. (note the bright lava lamp, too.) mike’s not really listening, and is instead staring at the note el left: Dear Mike, I have gone to become a superhero again. From, El

mike knows what el’s saying here. ‘superhero’ = a version of herself that mike can love again, and ‘from, el’ = her acknowledging he doesn’t love her (again, el’s pov) OR implying she doesn’t love him anymore, either. imo it’s a coded breakup/pre-breakup.

this is preoccupying his mind enough that he’s not paying attention to will talking about the very serious situation they’re in.

the note is a symbol of mike’s lack of romantic feelings for el, which lead to the deeper truth of his true romantic feelings for will. with that in mind, here’s what will says when it cuts away from mike looking at the note:

i audibly gasped when the cogs turned in my brain while collecting these screenshots

textually, he’s talking about hawkins here, but COME ON. if we read between the lines…

imagine will’s rhetorical “you” is actually directed at mike—which is easy to do since he’s the only other person in the room—who’s currently staring at the symbolic note.

the thing that needs to be kept contained is mike’s feelings for will, which cannot be contained at all without el. she’s his cover, his beard, his excuse to not face what he’s trying to suppress.

the window appears even brighter when the camera focuses on will.

after this, mike absentmindedly responds with “yeah,” and will notices how distracted mike is, saying:

AKA, if you keep ruminating on your feelings they’re not gonna change, you know?

so, he crumples up the note and throws it in the trash.

this means one of two things: 1. he’s choosing to continue to ignore and “get rid of” his real feelings, or 2. he’s accepting that his feelings won’t change, and is gonna stop trying to get rid of them.

considering the wide open door/‘closet’ behind him, the poorly concealed window, and the “i didn’t say it” “you didn’t have to” scene that comes later (‘it’ being ‘i love you’, as established here, and this convo being coded as also about mike and will’s fight)… i’d bet on option 2. then again, contradictory things happen later, so it may be a mix of both 1 and 2.

a single proper ray of light is peaking through the window, and it’s landing right on a green (blue+yellow, but you knew that) chair, pointing towards them.

even though they’re talking about mike and el’s struggles, will is in the forefront of this shot. he’s lit up by the window’s light, and even though mike doesn’t see that side of his face i believe it’s from mike’s pov.

note the red (el’s color) lamp by will’s head signifying that he think the convo’s just about her, and the yellow potted plant below it that the lamp would be shining on if it were on. (also note the upside down cross next to mike, showing that he feels his feelings for will are “blasphemous”.)

suzie’s room:

this one’s one of my favorites. after eden tells them where suzie is she says “make sure to give that selfish little four-eyed shit a nice little shove for me”. they get to her room but she’s not there.

mike’s, in the front, is first to notice the window, which has open yellow curtains w/ blue trim. the window itself is open, with a gentle breeze and birdsong flowing through it as delicate music plays.

it continues to zoom in on mike as he says this. the door’s open behind him. for some reason or another we’re supposed to focus on mike’s reaction to the window.

“give ‘her’ a shove” as in shove ‘her’ out the window—it’s open, it’s beautiful, it’s calling out to mike, he just needs a shove. and whaddaya know, in the next shot…

mike was the first to stick his head out the window, and is still in the forefront. the sun gets in his eyes and he squints and dodges it a few times, but then he smiles. he doesn’t regret it.

and just ‘cause, here’s another shot where mike and will are perfectly framed by suzie’s yellow-beige curtains:

mike and will talk about el and vecna:

in the top one, they each have a window behind them again. the whole house is filled with windows (w/ open yellowish curtains or shades) and just straight up holes in the wall, and unobscured sun rays come through practically every one of them.

the little curtains in the top left are green-ish and look blue from afar. here, sunshine pours onto will, and mike is exactly right outside of the ray—look at his arm and shoe.

will explains that he can still feel vecna’s presence and that they need to kill him. with (yet again) yellow curtains behind him, mike says:

he crosses the distance and puts his hand on will’s shoulder, and the light hits it.

mike’s in the light now—his arm, at the very least. he reached out into it with intent, giving himself a shove, and now they’re sharing the same ray of sunshine. when they hear a car approaching they look behind themselves at the window, acknowledging it, and then they get up to look outside it.

aaaaand that’s it. i hope you enjoyed this post <3 i spent way too much time on it… disclaimer that i have no media education and this is all from my (untrained) perspective. i also don’t claim to be the first to discover any of this, i’m sure i’m late to the party for a lot of things here, so kudos to those more attentive than me. thanks for reading!! :)

[andre-and-cal]

IK IT'S A A WEEK ISH AWAY BUT CALDRE VALENTINE'S HCS⁉️😘

YESSS I wanted to do Caldre Valentine’s Day headcanons so bad !! Hope you enjoy! :3

Caldre Valentine’s Day Headcanons

At first, Andre thought that the whole concept of Valentine’s Day was stupid. Something he never understood was why some couples only showed appreciation for someone they cared about on one unnecessarily flamboyant day rather than doing so every day. While he stands by an unintentionally tender message, he never really did anything for Valentine’s Day. And neither did Cal. However, during their sophomore year, the teen wanted to make something for Andre, wanted to express his appreciation toward him. Calvin ended up giving him a small photo collage— which he and his parents had designed— of the Army of Two, from their middle school years up until then. With Andre having nothing prepared for him, it left him feeling guilty. As a last-minute gift, Andre decided to lend Cal one of his old switchblades, which he’d painted on. He wanted Calvin to keep it permanently.

The first time Cal asked Andre to be his Valentine, Andre’s heart jumped out of his chest. He’d choked out a simple, “Sure,” and tried to act all nonchalant and casual about it. But his leg kept bouncing up and down— they were in Cal’s bedroom at the time, sitting together and watching Beavis and Butthead. Luckily, Cal didn’t even really notice his overly-conscious behavior.

Ever since, Cal will ask Andre if he wants to be his Valentine, with a witty grin spread across his face. For which, Andre will accept the invitation seriously, but then snicker— he attempts to act like it isn’t serious, as if being Cal’s Valentine is just such a silly thing. But clearly, it is not, with how Andre now indulges himself in some Valentine’s Day traditions.

Following, when Valentine’s Day came around during their junior year, Andre and Cal did start to be a little more receptive toward each other in terms of gift-giving. Andre buys Calvin items that he’s heard him talk about or mention before— like maybe a Misfits album on CD, or a cool poster from a TV show Cal likes. Often, Calvin creates cards and handmade trinkets for Andre, since Andre doesn’t usually ask for much aside from snacks and a bag of chocolate caramel candy bars. Andre is an absolute sucker for chocolate caramel, and Calvin knows this, so when he has no money, he’ll ask his parents to purchase a bag of them for the teen. In addition, when he does have some cash in his pocket, he’ll buy them for Andre. One year, Cal had his little sister make matching bead bracelets for him and Andre— although, the two teenagers don’t wear them in public. Instead, they keep them protectively stored in their bedrooms.

Calvin will stay up late working on little makeshift Valentine’s Day cards for Andre, often putting off dinner so he can work on the cards. He writes poems for him, too !! With Cal being a bit of a teenage poet, his poems aren’t perfect, but they’re lovely enough for Andre. Cal wants to impress Andre so badly, and even though his writing is generally more on the dark and moody side, with sappy topics not necessarily being Cal’s forte, he tries hard to make sure his poems for Andre are lovey-dovey. He wants the other boy to feel good while reading them.

But most of all, they go out together... as usual, really. But when they do, it feels a little different; the atmosphere feels less “needed” and more “wanted”. To elaborate, both boys feel relaxed when they go out together. It feels more like an actual date, less like a mission— which, their private outings do essentially serve as unspoken dates. Especially during “Valentine’s season” as Cal calls it. And by the end of the day, Cal ends up in Andre’s arms, whether at his own house or at Andre’s house.

[cosmowgyral]

"The Vicious Wildcat is Clumsily Affectionate"

▪︎ Kagari's 1st Birthday

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

This is my very first time reading and translating a Kagari event and since he's not yet out in the EN servers, there might be terms that will be used differently when he's finally released.

Chapter 1

A while after coming to Kogyoku with the bookstore owner, I noticed that on a certain day, the town was bustling with more people than usual.

Emma: It’s Prince Kagari’s birthday?

Town woman: Yes, it has become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate.

Emma: That’s why it’s so lively.

(I didn’t know it was Prince Kagari’s birthday.)

The town’s residents seem to be in high spirits, and the aroma of dorayaki fills the air.

Town woman: You should wish Prince Kagari as well.

Town woman: I’m sure he’ll be delighted if his favourite lady celebrates with him.

A woman I had become acquainted with since coming to Kogyoku, gives me a shove with an innocent smile.

Town woman: Now if you say you’re having trouble deciding on a present, I’ll help you with it.

Emma: Thank you so much. But, I’d like to think of something to give on my own.

(I wonder what it is. I sense an odd pressure…or maybe it’s just my imagination.)

The woman left in a good mood with words of encouragement, suggesting she was satisfied with my response.

(Whether I’m his favourite or not….I’ve been helped by Prince Kagari many times since coming to Kogyoku.)

(Now that I know it’s his birthday, I have no other choice but to celebrate.)

(Alright…)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(….Wha-what’s with this huge line?!)

When I packed my bag with the present and headed to the castle, the square was crowded with people who had come to celebrate the yasha [1].

(From swordsmen to nobles…and even commoners, there really is an incredible number of people.)

At the end of the line, I catch a glimpse of a person with striking red hair.

Prince Kagari, standing at a distance, remained expressionless as he received a constant barrage of wishes and gifts.

(He is acting like it’s none of his business. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying this at all.)

As I stood on my toes to have a better look, a pair of emerald eyes greeted mine.

(….Prince Kagari is sensitive to gazes, so I wonder if he noticed.)

(I might have been a nuisance by watching too much.)

I turned away and took shelter under a nearby cherry tree.

(I wonder what I should do. With so many people waiting in the queue, it really is difficult to go and wish him.)

( I wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but I guess I’ll have to come back later----huh?)

When I casually looked back, I saw that Prince Kagari had disappeared.

Instead, an aide is standing in his place..and despite not being the yasha, people continue to offer him wishes and presents.

It was a strange sight.

???: You’re wide open, princess.

(!?)

As I turned to face the unexpected voice close to my ear, a hand closed across my mouth.

My back made contact with a tree trunk as I was pulled into the shade of trees.

Emma: Nnnn…!!

(Before I knew it, Prince Kagari had caught me from behind.)

He easily pushed me against the trunk even though I was struggling, and then he brought his face close to mine.

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I nodded vigorously and he finally took his hand off my mouth.

However, the distance between us remained the same, and Prince Kagari, with his hands on the trunk behind me, seized me.

 (I need to calm down…)

(Maybe he’s sticking close to me so the others won’t find him.)

I instinctively lower my voice so that my breath doesn't touch him.

Emma: Why are you here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: I came because I thought you called.

(Maybe that’s how it looked to Prince Kagari.)

Even though I feel guilty, my heart was ticklish.

Kagari: If you plan to stand in the line, don’t.

Kagari: It will continue till midnight.

Emma: That long…

Kagari: At night, there's a party. It goes on through the entire night till the wee hours of the morning.

(It’s amazing that they celebrate whole day long. I don’t expect anything less for Kogyoku’s yasha.)

While I was impressed, Prince Kagari remained expressionless.

He looks at the long line like it has nothing to do with him, and his expression is so bleak that it’s hard to believe he is the one being celebrated.

Maybe Prince Kagari isn’t interested in celebrating his birthday.

(…What if he thinks of me as a bother as well?)

Kagari: So, why are you here?

I turned my face away from him.

Emma: Well….there was a huge crowd, so I…was just curious.

(I can’t admit I came to celebrate too.)

I hid the bag with his present behind me.

Prince Kagari paused for a moment.

Amidst the awkward silence, the noises of the crowd felt distant.

(I tried my best to hide it, but it might seem too obvious.)

However, Prince Kagari didn’t say anything and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: Will you come with me, princess?

Emma: Eh…I..Prince Kagari?

Contrary to his request, I was almost forcefully taken inside the castle in secret….

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prince Kagari threw me into a room and brought out a large basket from somewhere.

Kagari: Put this on first.

Emma: H..hakama [2]?

Kagari: Next, wrap this around your face.

Emma: A scarf?

Kagari: And finally, put this on your waist.

Emma: A sword..?!

Kagari: Now tie your hair in a ponytail.

Emma: Um…

(Why is he asking to change all of a sudden?)

I tilted my head as I received the things handed to me one after another, and then Prince Kagari picks up the hakama and reaches for my clothes.

Kagari: If you don’t know how to put on hakama I’ll teach you.

Emma: N-no, I’ll try to do as much as I can myself!

(I’m not sure what’s going on but I think it isn’t anything bad---.)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(----But, why did it come to this?)

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

➽──────────────❥

I think I've found a new favourite in IkePri, guys.

(1) Yasha or yaksha refers to guardian deities in Buddhism. In ancient Japan, these terms were given to demonlike warriors.

(2) Hakama are a type of Japanese trousers.

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19 @angelofthetrenchcoats

Companion piece to:

Box Breathing - Eddie's been struggling since Christopher left.

Always - You make a promise to Eddie.

Real - Eddie tells you he wants something real.

A Future With You - Eddie makes a realisation during a one on one game of basketball.

Cash - Eddie discovers your secret Instagram profile.

Snake - You receieve a surprise gift from your ex at Halloween.

Midnight - Eddie makes you a promise.

Cherry Lipstick - Eddie gets better insight into you during a social event.

Bang - Eddie's new year starts with a bang.

Lifetime (NSFW) - One night with you makes Eddie realise he wants a life time.

El Paso - Eddie is forced to make a decision that hurts you both.

Possibilities - Eddie thinks about what might have been.

Welcome Back - Eddie discovers the reason you've been out of contact.

You’re exhausted.

Eddie can see that the minute you step out of the 115. Your shoulders are sagging as if the weight of the heavy kitbag is dragging you down, your head bowed so that your hair falls across your features, masking them from his view. His heart rate accelerates just a little as he steps towards you, his hand reaching for your bag.

“Let me help.” He says softly and you tilt your face up to meet his gaze.

Fuck you’re beautiful. It doesn’t matter that you’re coming off back to back 24 hour shifts, those eyes of yours with their fathomless depths, they ruin him every single time.

You don’t speak as he slings the bag over his shoulder, you simply tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket as the two of you amble towards your car.

“Selena, I know I fucked up…” He says but you shake your head cutting him off.

“We don’t need to do this.” You say as you take the keys from your pocket and point them at the trunk of your car so that it opens. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I want to…” He says as he puts your bag into the back of the car and closes the hatch.

“And I don’t.” You assert, placing your hands on your hips. “I am exhausted Eddie, I’m coming off back to back 24 hour shifts, my back feels like it’s on fire and all I want to do it get into a shower and spend the next 12 hours sleeping. I don’t have the capacity right now to put up with your shit.”

“My shit?” He repeats, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” You say forcefully, jabbing your finger at him. “You feel guilty for ghosting me, well I absolve you of that. Now you can go back to your party and celebrate with your son and the rest of the 118.”

There’s such a bitterness in your tone, one that he knows comes from weeks of non-stop shifts, of giving up the one place you felt you had a family for a man who couldn’t be bothered to return your calls.

“Selena I didn’t ask you to take this job-”

“And you weren’t around to discuss it either.” You remind him, shoving your hands back into your pockets. “You need the stability of the 118 and I… well the rest doesn’t matter.”

Because you don’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. That’s the message he’s given you, the doubt he’s sowed within you.

“You have no idea how much you matter to me.” He says, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, thumb tracing over that scar just underneath the hinge of your jaw. “How many nights I wished that things could have been different, that you were there lying beside me. Every moment away from you was torture, it’s still torture because I am in love with you Selena and the fact you’ve done all of this, it makes me think that you’re in love with me too and I am sorry I made you feel that you were less. I’m sorry I-”

You kiss him then and Christ, there has never been anything as perfect as the sensation of you pressed against him, your fingers threading through his hair, your mouth claiming his. He’s missed this, missed you…

He whines when you draw away, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you within his proximity as his nose trails lightly over yours.

“You’re my home Selena.” He whispers against your lips. “You always have been and you always will be.”

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[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 100k likes!! Is there any more room or space left? If so, Belphegor and 7 pls!

Thank you!! And you're the lucky last one we're doing. <3

Belphegor + 7 | "Better Days" - Currents

cw: depression talk

It's said that when humans have a sleep paralysis demon haunting them, they often feel an unyielding weight upon their bodies, rendering them unable to move. It's a tried and true trick that Belphegor knows quite well.

"Is this what it feels like?" he muses, sprawled out on his bed as he stares at the ceiling, eyes tracing a pattern of painted stars. He's been doing this for the past ten hours, unable to get himself up to do much of anything else. The weight pressing down on him was suffocating, so why did he also find it so oddly comforting? Had he just gotten used to the heaviness? Used to the hole that had dug itself deep into his chest?

"Belphie, you haven't eaten anything all day." Beelzebub's voice draws him out of his thoughts. Lazily turning his head to meet his twin's gaze, he lets out a long sigh.

"Not hungry."

Beelzebub frowns, crumbs littering his face as he chews on whatever he just stuffed into his mouth. It's clear he wants to say something, but he instead plops down on the floor beside Belphegor's bed, leaning back and pulling out another snack to munch on. The seventh-born almost wants to tell him to leave, but he knows it'll get him nowhere — Beelzebub always knew when something was wrong.

"…Do you ever miss it?"

"Mish wha?" His brother responds, his mouth full.

"The Celestial Realm." Belphegor's fingers curl into fists, his brows furrowed as he turns to look at the wall. "Being an angel."

He can hear Beel pause his chewing before resuming at a quicker pace. After a few moments, Belphegor feels the bed tilt and move, Beelzebub now having lifted himself to sit on its edge.

"I mean, yeah. Sometimes." Beelzebub shifts. "It was a big part of our lives, so it's only natural, right? But I'm happy to be a demon now too, and to be here with our family, which is what's really important."

"Except for Lilith."

"…Yeah. Except for Lilith." His twin deflates. "…What's on your mind, Belphie?"

"Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who just gets stuck." The words are bitter on his tongue, frustration rising in his voice. "I'm glad we finally found out the truth about what happened to her, but it doesn't erase the fact that she's gone. Everyone else just…moved on! And I'm just here."

That suffocating yet comforting weight, keeping him in place.

"…Are you here? It sounds more like you're there." With a forceful tap on Belphegor's shoulder, Beelzebub makes him turn towards him. "I…get it. You know I do. I still feel guilty — and yes, I know," he stops Belphie from interrupting, "…it's not my fault, it couldn't be helped. But I still feel that way. So sometimes I feel like I'm more there, you know." He scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. "Mammon and Asmo talk a lot about 'living in the moment', and I think I get it. We can't change the past, but we can hold onto what we have right now, like each other."

"…Really? You got your great advice from those two?" Belphegor groans, but it's hard to hide the hint of a smile on his lips. "I think they're probably talking more about partying and doing something stupid."

"Probably, but it doesn't change what I said." Beelzebub stands up, holding out a hand to his brother with a determined look. "So, how about we try living in the moment right now? Maybe we can even go do something stupid."

A low chuckle, and it's like the weight lessens. A knowing sigh, and it lessens again. Belphegor reaches out to take the other's hand, letting himself get dragged off the bed.

"Okay. But don't blame me if Lucifer gets mad."

[kruegerspillow]

Another hollow apology (is it?) ; bruce wayne

Creators note: um I think I have a new favorite here... Haha... It's okay anyway I love my man unstable and a bit ill in the head. Here's another fic with this lovely emo bruce! I made this while I was half awake so sorry for any mistakes lmao

Warnings: cunnilungus, OBSESSIVE BRUCE, angst with little to no comfort (?), bruce doesn't know how emotions work, afab! reader, argument, bruce doesn't know how to take care of himself, NOT PROOFREAD and reader knows who batman really is.

Word count: 1k

"This is just straight up silly."

You spat your words at him with such venom, causing him to take a cautious step back. His eyes followed your figure, clearly taken aback by your outburst. And even for you, his sudden movement did not go unnoticed.

"You expect me to just sit back, relax and watch you limp back into my apartment, again and again, Bruce?" You practically growled.

The muscles beneath his armor tensed, your frustration becoming even clearer to him. The hand that once pressed against the wound on his leg had stopped applying the pressure. Your eyes burnt through his body, and he swore there was much more pain from the glare that you'd given him compared to any physical injury that he'd ever gotten.

And oh, he'd never felt so guilty in his life. For ruining someone even by his mere presence. He wished that he could mend all the pieces of you back together and act as if nothing had happened. As if he was never here, even.

God, he wanted to punch himself.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts, focusing on you and your wellbeing now. Guilt was now present in his eyes, but he knew that it couldn't fix everything. It can't fix him and get rid of his responsibilities, can it?

Meanwhile, your eyes searched for anything—any signs of him that could hint to a need to walk away, again. But you wouldn't let him walk away from you. Not anymore, and especially not now. You needed him to tell you the truth, to speak to you about his feelings and needs. To ask you for help with actual words—like how a normal human being would converse. You needed him to understand your frustration.

He suddenly struggled to find the right words—or the right thoughts. His mind was occupied by the sight of your tears that were threatening to run down your cheek, though it was gone as soon as you blinked them away.

And then, it was silent. But you couldn't bear silence, not when a man dressed up as a bat was bleeding out right in your living room, at least.

"Forget it." You dismissed quickly, the frustration still evident from your voice. "You don't listen anyway, do you?"

His free hand clenched as he watched you approach him hastily, feeling smoke coming out of your ears at his distance—both emotionally and physically. Your hands reached up to tug at his armor, and before you knew it, he was bare right in front of you.

You did not know how you got here.

"Fuck," a string of broken curses left your lips.

The gloves that were once on his hand were thrown away somewhere—though he didn't seem to care. His control had slipped, and you knew that he'd fallen into his desires. His want and his need for you, it was too much for him to bear.

His hands worked on your pants, tugging them down swiftly as he let out a huff from under his cowl. The sight of you—so vulnerable and sweet—he felt like he was in cloud nine already. His eyes shifted away from your dripping cunt to your face, watching the way you furrow your brows as he laid in front of his dessert. His arms locked around either of your legs, making sure to spread them wide enough.

"Bruce," you mewled, despising the sound of your own weak voice.

He took that as permission, leaning in as his tongue flattened against you. His pupils immediately dilated, the taste of your juices sending shivers down his spine. Your hand, though reluctantly, went to tug on his cowl—pressing him further into your cunt. You murmured his name under your breath once again, earning a pleased hum from him.

"I'm sorry." He grunted in the middle of devouring you.

Your head was too cloudy to give him a proper reply—but you caught his words. A small groan left his lips as you bucked your hips up at him.

"For leaving you," a desperate lick.

"For not being there for you," another lick.

"For not being the perfect one for you."

His thumb pressed against your bud, rubbing smooth circles to soothe you through the overwhelming feeling from his tongue. A pathetic whimper left his lips as he bucked his hips into the sofa, his cock struggling against his tight pants.

"What—" he cut you off with a suck.

You threw your head back, feeling yourself nearly tipping over the edge. His free hand caressed your thigh comfortingly, a stark contrast to his appearance.

"I'm gonna—" you choked on your own words. "Cum—need'ta cum..."

His own breath hitched at your words, feeling himself chase his own orgasm from all the times his hip snapped against the seat. He didn't care anymore—the burning sensation in his muscles from the late night patrol to the sting on his wound—all he could focus on was you.

You and your noises. You and your pleasure. You and your needs.

His mind was unhealthy, and he knew it. It was full of you. Memories of you and your voice—along with the occasional glances the both of you share during a patch up session. God, even his heart was filled with you, did you know that? You belong there with him. It's just you and him against the whole damn world. And nothing would change that—nothing's going to stand between him and you.

Before he knew it, your orgasm crashed onto you like a wave—at the sight of this, Bruce immediately cummed in his pants. Pathetically, almost.

He panted, shaking his head to get rid of the blur in his visions. His thoughts snapped back to reality. You were passed out before him, one of your arms hanging over the edge of the sofa while your head rested against the armrest. Fuck, you're perfect.

How long has he been staring at you? He's doesn't kno.

But what he does knows is that he belongs to you. Every part of his body belongs to you.

And the same goes to you, right?

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work to post it around. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[googlemooglemadi]

ੈ✩ 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚, 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒓 ˖°࿐

❛ 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥. ❜

One second, Viktor’s coffee was on the table. The next, it was a dark brown puddle on the floor, and Jayce was staring down at him with a look that could only be compared to a puppy who’s just been caught digging a hole in the garden.

“Shit, dude, I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, and moments later, he scrambled to grab napkins from the dispenser on the counter. 

Viktor, frozen in his seat, was unable to formulate a response outside of gaping like a fish out of water. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a quiet, “Oh, it’s – it’s fine.” He shut his laptop and tucked it into his bag, standing up and reaching for his crutch.

Jayce was quick to wave him off, still looking almost comically guilty. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it. Look, I can pay you back for the coffee, or –”

“It’s alright.” Viktor assured with a shake of his head, picking up the sopping-wet napkins from his table and tossing them into the trash can. He leaned against his crutch, looking down at the man crouched on the floor. This was just his luck, wasn’t it? The same man who was causing every single one of his crises at the moment, putting him in a situation where he had no choice but to carry on a conversation with him.

Jayce looked like he wanted to insist, but Viktor’s stubborn glare left no room for argument. He huffed a little, clearly frustrated, and returned to scrubbing the floor clean. He stood and dropped the rest of the napkins into the trash bin, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“Sorry again,” Jayce said, offering a hand to Viktor. “I’m Jayce.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Viktor insisted. He was still rooted to the floor, unable to come up with anything to say. He was pretty sure this was his worst nightmare. He forced himself to nod dumbly as the man introduced himself, taking Jayce’s hand and shaking it weakly. “Viktor.”

The grin on Jayce’s face could best be described as dopey, and Viktor hated how much it made his heart race. “Cool. You’re in my physics class, right? I’m about to head that way if you, uh… want to join me.”

Viktor blinked a few times, more than a little caught off-guard. He usually walked to his classes alone, but his first instinct was to agree. Jayce was already slinging his backpack over his shoulder, preparing to leave, and Viktor mumbled a barely-audible “sure” before he could manage to talk himself out of it.

Jayce was, as he’d expected, nothing short of a chatterbox. His excited rambling seemed to stem from a fear of any sort of awkward silence, and surprisingly, Viktor found himself not minding it. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling so tense because he’d become comfortable in his solitude, or because the familiarity of his dreams lingered at the back of his mind.

It took a while until there was a lull in the (rather one-sided) conversation about Jayce’s homework, and Viktor finally worked up the courage to ask some questions. “So, what are you majoring in?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Jayce responded, casting a sidelong glance at the shorter man beside him. “You?”

“Chemical engineering.”

Jayce hummed in acknowledgement, running a hand through his hair. The silence between them lingered for a long moment before he spoke up again. “Did you grow up in Piltover?”

“Zaun.” Viktor responded curtly. Usually, the mention of Piltover’s dilapidated sister city alone was enough to make anyone from the upper-class region want to switch topics. Jayce didn’t seem to follow this trend, but it was clear that he was unsure of how to respond – Viktor wasn’t surprised.

“Oh. That’s… neat. Do you have any siblings?”

As frustrating as it was, Viktor didn’t mind the subject change. He’d rather not deal with the awkwardness that would come from discussing Piltover and Zaun’s deep divide. “None. Do you?”

“Nah,” Jayce answered, shaking his head. He kept stealing glances to the side, and though Viktor could tell he was attempting to be subtle, he was anything but. “It’s always just been me and my mom.”

Viktor couldn’t help it; he found himself curious as to what Jayce’s family dynamic was like. He wanted to ask questions, to find out why he had only grown up with his mother, but the last thing he wanted was to push the man away so soon. So he nodded instead, reaching up with his free hand to brush a lock of hair off of his forehead.

As they approached the front doors of the building, Viktor shifted his crutch to reach out for the heavy glass door. Jayce beat him to it, though, pulling the door handle and propping it open with his foot. “I’ve got it.”

Viktor nodded gratefully, murmuring a quiet “thanks” to Jayce as he stepped into the hallway. He was thankful to see no trace of pity – something he’d grown contemptuously familiar with throughout his life – in Jayce’s gaze.

The door slammed shut behind them, cutting through the sudden silence that had fallen. They reached the lecture hall, and Viktor was fully prepared for their short conversation to end with a goodbye; if he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t be shocked if they never spoke again. However, when he headed for his usual spot in the back row, Jayce trailed behind him and dropped his things in the space next to him.

Viktor cast a sidelong glance at him with a raised eyebrow as he sat down, but he looked away before Jayce could catch his confused expression. He didn’t mind having Jayce next to him, of course, but he couldn’t deny the fact that all he needed at the moment was some space to think. 

His mind was foggy with déjà vu. The feeling of Jayce’s body next to his, combined with the infuriatingly familiar sound of his pen scratching against the paper of his notebook, created a tight sensation in his chest that he’d only ever experienced when waking up from his dreams about the lab.

Selfishly, though, Viktor almost wished his nighttimes weren’t plagued by Jayce or their shared lab anymore. Yes, part of him wanted to get to the bottom of why he felt like he’d lived lifetimes with Jayce while only knowing him for a total of… what, twenty minutes now? The other part of him, though, longed to get to know Jayce as if they were complete strangers.

He huffed as he opened up his laptop, propping his chin in the palm of his hand. If this was what physics was going to be like from now on, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive it.

guys this is not a drill! the gays are finally interacting!!

on another note i am a big fat liar. i said this would be up by this weekend, but... i was really busy yesterday 😞

i haven't said anything like this yet because i didn't want to sound desperate but i actually am desperate (/j) so please don't be afraid to leave comments!! i love reading them!

credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

---

@frog-fans-unite

[kosmogrl]

your post re: feeling guilty is so relatable.. i was unemployed for a few months last year, and i felt so bad all the time. i was just like.. all my friends have to work and i can just sit here?? doing nothing if i don't want to?? but then i got a job lined up and had about a month and a half left until i had to start there, and that was one of the best times of my life. i could still do everything i felt like for that time, but with no guilt or worry. it's all so much less worrisome if you know when it'll end. 🥲

right!! it’s been 3 days and i’m always like.. my sister is working her ass off, so is my boyfriend and basically everyone I know, and I’m just here…? no one is making me feel guilty but it’s always there in the back of my mind anytime I do something I definitely wouldn’t be doing if I wasn’t unemployed. and the feeling that i’m on a limbo is crazy

[5typesoftrash]

I’d love to hear about the Scott getting flashbacks AU

Ooooh yes!! So this is a tie-in to the Free Use series. I originally conceptualized it as a separate thing but I realized I can really easily tie it into the Free Use series so there we go.

Basically, I have this headcanon that after Double Life, extreme cold is a trigger for Scott. In this case, he's not gone up against it since so he doesn't realize that it's a trigger, but it is. So in that fic, which is a G- or T-rated offshoot of the Free Use fic (depends on whether there ends up being any swearing) Scott gets really triggered by powdered snow and ends up in Pearl's mound.

She starts off feeling like she shouldn't be there, because it's kind of her fault that Scott is having this response, but he wants her there. She actually makes to leave and he starts crying and begs her to stay, so she stays. She wraps him in blankets and holds him, and they just sit there for a while as Scott warms up.

Eventually they talk, and Scott tells her some things that he's been keeping to himself. Specifically, he felt really hurt and betrayed by most of her choices in DL, and he turned those feelings inward because he broke up with her, and he's the one who left her for Cleo, and he felt so guilty and ashamed. And especially after Cleo and Martyn turned on them, he felt like... like maybe this was inevitable. Somehow, some way, they were always going to end up on opposite ends of this divide, and he sacrificed himself for her to assuage his own conscience because he didn't know how else to prove that a) he wasn't as selfish as he'd made it seem and b) he loved her so much, even despite everything.

She listens quietly, and she doesn't try to defend herself by saying that she was turned on by everyone who called her a friend and shunned by the entire server, or that she went a little stir crazy in her tower with no one to talk to but her dogs. She just says that she's sorry. And she says that she wishes things could be different, but as long as they're stuck in the death games, they won't be. She says that she loves him, too, and she hopes that can be enough.

Yeah. Just soft Galaxy Duo thoughts for me.

[signcfthetiimes]

violet's heart felt like it was being pulled in a dozen directions at once. anger, sorrow, disbelief, and something softer. she stared at him, struggling to comprehend the mess of words spilling from his mouth. his voice, slurred and raw, pulled at parts of her she had tried so hard to lock away. her hands clenched at her sides, torn between wanting to shake him and wanting to reach out, to comfort the person who had caused her so much pain. "you think you did me some big favor by leaving? by deciding what i need without even asking me?" her voice cracked, betraying the emotions she'd tried so hard to keep buried. "do you even know what you did to me? how it felt to wake up without you there? how i opened up to you, was at my most vulnerable and told you my fear of how i was unlovable - and you affirmed that it wouldn't scare you off. yet you left. you really thought that was better for me?" she tried not to sound hysterical. doing her best to keep her voice measured. violet shook her head, as if to try and shake off the anger, the pain. at the mention of tonight and the other man, she couldn't help but feel guilty especially since she hadn't actually wanted or enjoyed that at all. as he tugged at her hand every logical part of her screamed to let go, she didn’t. instead, she let him pull her down beside him. and she didn't pull her hand away once she was sat. she turned to look at him, really look at him. the disheveled hair, glassy eyes, and the tear he didn’t bother to hide anymore. her chest tightened painfully, own tears also starting to slip. the fact he had been crying over her, talking about her - it didn't make her feel better. it just made her feel worse. more pain she's caused him. "i don't know what to do with all this, os." she sat there, unmoving, caught between the hurt that refused to fade and the love she didn’t know how to let go of. "you wrecked me," she whispered. "and yet i still love you."

"I just told you?" A repeats sloppily, but a more genuine smile tugs at his lips. "Good, good, 'am glad I told ya." It was a momentary bliss of ignorance, almost forgetting that things were an absolute mess right now. "I wanna be here, wanna be with you." He dragged his words along. He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to be eye-level with her. "Makin' perfect sense, Vi." Now that he was closer, he could see her face more clearly. The distraught intertwined in her features made him feel sick. He could see the pain he had inflicted bright as day, so impossibly clear that he couldn't ignore it. Drunk or not, the sheer hurt, misery, torment -- it was impossible to mistake. "A real...A real fuckin' idiot, yeah." He agrees with a small nod, still leaning over so he could be close to her face. "Why?" He blinks slowly, squinting slightly to keep her in focus. "'Cus I knew this...would happen if I told ya the truth." It was the first time he's sounded calm all day. "I'd rather... rather you hate me than blame yourself like you're doin' now." He tilts his head to the side, face filled far too many emotions to distinguish just one. "But when I saw you, that fuckin' guy all over you, you bailing me out...I dunno what happened." He still couldn't understand what happened to him then. "Never had that happen' to me before... do you know?" She was smarter than he was, he was certain she'd have answers he didn't have the slightest clue about. "Hey, you can't... can't blame me for showin' up. Ya think I can walk straight?" That same laughter returned, finally letting go of her shoulders as he flopped down on the couch. His hand caught hers, tugging at her arm for her to sit beside him. "My ass got dragged here...here by Ivar. He was yellin' at me the whole way here." He slumps further down into the couch. "I kept...kept crying 'bout you, how much I fucked up... How much I want to see you...I don't think you'd know but I can't ever stop talking 'bout you." He clears his throat, shaking his head to try and collect himself again. "I know...I know I've got no right bein' here...I dunno how to protect people, thought I was doin' the...the right thing." He looks away from her once he feels a tear slip past his defenses. "I...I don't know what...what I was thinkin', dunno anythin' at all."

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.