#i get so anxious about it and it's crazy how fixated i get on different aspects of what/how im eating

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi idk if this is possible or if ip this makes u uncomfortable but maybe reader x Quackity or ranboo where reader is actor (idk what they/them people who act are called 😭😭😭😭) anyway and maybe there doing an award show and Quackity is was the shows on live and he’s just really supportive about it

hi!! and yes of course! ; also nonbinary actors are just actors, don't worry! even some women/femme presenting entertainers prefer actor over actress so it's no big deal! I don't know too much about award shows so bare with me LMFAO

QUACKITY ; award show

summary ; you've been nominated for best actor in supporting role, and Alex is there to cheer you on

warnings ; language, reader wears a tuxedo

genre ; fluff

word count ; 666 (ooo the devils gonna get me at 3am guys 😨😨)

masterlist

Alex was your biggest fan, genuinely. You built your career from the ground up with him there by your side each step of the way. You'd never stray from your YouTube roots, so when your new movie-fans found your social medias, they were quickly fixated on seeing your content and you with Alex.

You'd been acting in smaller shows and movies for a while, like T@gged, a horror web series, you played a very minor role in The Walking Dead, and almost most importantly, you had a pretty big role in the A24 film Mid90s. Mid90s was basically your breakthrough, and you loved working with your costars and just being a skater who could act.

But, after the release of The Last Of Us, you'd gained a fair amount of new followers and subscribers. You weren't expecting your role to be that important to viewers, but people loved seeing you on screen playing such a different character that completely contrasted yourself. Alex did too, he religiously rewatched the movie just for you and would talk about how awesome or hot you looked in certain scenes. It was flattering. However, you weren't expecting to be nominated in the best actor in a supporting role over it.

You obviously brought Alex with you to the Oscar's, I mean, holy shit, how could you not? You both wear tuxedos, him in a dark burgundy color, and you in a dark grey with a lighter grey pattern. Both of you wear black collared shirts underneath your blazers and sit down at a table. You didn't know anyone else, nor were you friends with anyone else at the event, sadly.

You and Alex sit and talk about the event and the Streamer Awards coming up for him soon and what categories he'd been nominated in. Focusing the conversation on him made you a little less anxious about it all, considering if you for some reason won, you'd have to go on that stage in front of hundreds of people on live television to talk and hold your award.

A few hours pass, and finally, the show starts. You two both show respect for the other actors and filmmakers, but talk in between bits because your anxiety was only getting worse up until the point where you were on screen, showing your nomination for best supporting role.

Alex smiles and nudges your arm, telling you, "Look, it's you!"

You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed and flustered. You quickly smile and wave at the camera, however, until they move on to the other nominees.

"And the winner for Best Supporting Actor is..."

Alex taps his fingers on the table, watching you bounce your leg under the table as you watch.

"Y/n L/n!"

"Oh my God! Holy shit!" Alex shouts, standing up with you. He wraps you in a hug before quickly telling you to go get your award.

You grab his wrist and drag him up backstage and onto the stage, making him stand with you as you claim your award.

"Hi, oh my God, this is- this is crazy! Thank you!" You smile, speaking into the microphone as people clap and cheer for you. "Thank you so much, and thank you to my awesome boyfriend, Alex," You turn back to him, smiling as he holds his hands in front of him, clasped together. "I wouldn't be here without him, and I can't thank him enough. And thank you to all my fans who have been supporting me along the way, even new fans who just learned of my existence. Thank you so much, words can't describe how grateful I am right now"

You smile, looking down at the award before you walk off stage, Alex right behind you. He stops you backstage, wrapping you in a longer hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/n/n!" He smiles, "I love you so much"

"The adrenaline feels like drugs at the moment, my face is numb, holy shit"

[popsickless]

♡ - all you tried to do was help?

[Just a mini test-write]

It all happened so fast... I couldn't even remember how it all escalated so quickly.

Unfortunately, Miguel left me in charge of the HQ , only until he had found where Miles went. Glancing over to an empty chair I take a seat next to Miguels desk...waiting...with anxiety. Why was I feeling so anxious.

"The files are sorted...security's back up. He has nothing to complain about." I sigh to myself. Placing both hands on either sides of my face. A part of me was hoping that Miguel didn't come back empty handed...but there was a huge part of me that was rooting for miles.

After about 10 minutes of procrastinating and drowning in my thoughts, A beam of orange shone through in the corner of my eye. He must be back. I instantly flew to my feet. The sound of the portal opening brought tingles to my ears, I watched carefully as miguel walked out the portal. He has a face like hell...this look was different.

My heart dropped but I rapidly built up the courage to open my mouth. "Im guessing you didn't find Miles then.." my tone was filled with anticipation, somehow I knew id said the wrong thing.

"What does it look like?" He growls. The anger was building up. He grabbed the closest object he could find and launched it across the room.

I stand there with both hands by my side, flinching a little when I heard the loud thud of the object. "Im sorry you couldn't-"

"Stop speaking...for one second." Miguel snapped instantly as he heard my voice. I do exactly that. My mouth glued shut, staring at his figure as he paces around. Why was I the one having to put up with his tantrums? It wasnt my fault Miles got away. No one had ever even tried to put miguel in his place. Thats probably why I admired Miles so much, he was the first to disobey, to question Miguel.

A few minutes of silence passes. "You're acting like this is my fault." My voice was shakey a little. Hesitant to speak at first but he needed to hear it. Miguels eyes dart towards mine, the tint of red almost glowing from anger. "I thought I told you to be quiet?" Miguels tone was dangerously calm, slowly he walked up to me. Why did I even open my mouth?

"Maybe it is your fault, if you wasnt so crap at your job.." he continues, staring me down like I was a piece of dirt he found on the floor. "You seemed to be the one chasing Miles, not me."

Did I just talk back to him...why did that sentence come out of my mouth so easily?

"What?"

The more Miguel walked towards me, The closer I was to the wall behind. I felt my back touch the concrete wall, I couldn't step back further. Shit. His eyes stay glued to mine, like he was expecting something from me. I shift my gaze to anywhere other than his eyes.

I feel his fingers lightly touch my chin as he guides my face towards him. Miguel tilts my head up a little.. "Would you like to repeat what you said?" Miguel whispers, leaning in so that i was forced to look into his eyes.

I dont know why but the butterflies in my stomach were going crazy, there was no way I was starting to feel aroused. In this situation? Why? My mouth struggled to form a sentence. Did I dare repeat myself.

"I said...you were the one chasing Miles. Not me"

Id just fucked it for myself.

Miguel chuckled lowly. I felt his fingers leave my chin and start to trail down the side of my shoulder, down to my arm. "See...this is the problem. One person decides to disobey me and the rest of you, think its alright to follow along" Miguels tone was different. It was threatening and dangerously soft.

I didnt even know what to say, my attention was too fixated on his hands on my skin, my whole arm felt sensitive. Miguel sighs at the lack of response. His same hand that was lightly tracing my arm suddenly grasps my shoulder and pins me to the wall.

"If you ask stupid questions, you'll get told to shut the fuck up." Miguel speaks in a hushed tone. The way he was so condescending made my whole body grow warm.

[sweetsickheart]

hey! I just saw your response to that huge reblog I left on that person's post!

Dude, I am so sorry! All of that was directed at the OP, not you, but I forgot to reblog from them instead of you! D: I'm so sorry for attacking you like that! I swear I didn't mean to direct all that at you, it must have been very intimidating to be faced with that wall of text, I'm so sorry.

And also, you're not wrong at all. This issue is basically all meaningless hypotheticals, we can all debate ourselves in circles until the end of the world, but we're not going to come to an answer with the information we have. There’s nothing we can use these arguments for, the only action worth taking is waiting to see what happens so we can get more information. Until then, there is no right answer!

And the OP was right, the fixation a lot of boobers have is weird and creepy and inappropriate in some cases. OP was just missing context that explained it, if not excused it. And I was very excited to give context haha

Anyway, I find the way the fandom is navigating this issue, and the social politics of it all, to be fascinating, so I love to discuss it. And I am way too invested in it and get way too anxious about it because I have no life. All that is to say, I actually really enjoy theorising and discussing this stuff, so that long reblog wasn't me being angry, it was me trying to figure out how I felt about it all myself, and the mechanisms behind what was going on. So again, I am so, so sorry for seeming threatening or like I was attacking you. You're not wrong! You don't have to take it back if you agree with OP, there's no right answer and I can handle people disagreeing with me KEKW. Also, I enjoy the contents of your blog a lot and have been enjoying vibing with you thus far. You are a poggers mutal :3

lmao yeah i get what your saying!! i have about 2 people irl i rant to and its a lot when you cant find people to talk to it about. you actually did change my mind on the subject and im totally chill with it. it is really interesting when you think about how things are so complicated over this one little thing and its crazy how different people interpret things!! but yeah, no harm done, im cool with people correcting me, having a different opinion, or changing my opinion. you're really cool and sweet and i hope you know that!

[un-pearable]

OMG so ive been thinking abt this ever since i saw ur ninjas from different time periods au but the way u incorporated the love triangle there (jay thinking they hate him for starting all of that) has driven me crazy ive been thinking about it for forever this guy gets so scared of them hating him and im like. Shakes u ur brain is so big i hope u know that idk where i was going with this i just that tidbit has wormed its way into my head ever since

yeah!!!! i just. okay so a) it’s already mostly textual given his entire arc in s4 but ALSO b) i have so many issues with how people hc jay to have anxiety and like. cool that’s how anxiety actually works?? misreading the situation and overreacting like jay does is both understandable and INCREDIBLY IN CHARACTER and as much as later seasons/fanon cram him into a very exaggerated portrayal of someone with anxiety this is where i relate to him the most. this is what being social anxious actually does: backfiring. overthinking situations that could be resolved easily if he didn’t take it so personally that it blows up BOTH his biggest relationships. the only difference from the stereotypical portrayal of an anxious person is that jay doesn’t shut down, he just keeps digging himself into a hole, which is a very real way that it manifests. i have done this. it is incredibly easy to do this. we are social machines built to interpret people and it is so so easy to misinterpret or overestimate or just plain fuck it up. jay is literally, textually insecure and the love triangle, as poorly executed as it is, took a sledgehammer to his sense of self and what he thought was a given: that nya liked him and cole was his best friend!!! this is STILL fucking him up when s3 ends - as annoying as the scene where he gets frustrated cole is the one comforting nya after zane’s sacrifice is, i do think it matters that it’s a raw wound. it’s something that stays and bothers him all the way through s4 bc they don’t get the chance to reconcile like they usually would. and that would REALLY suck bc he knows he shouldn’t care this much bc zane is dead. they’re all mourning. he shouldn’t still be so fixated on the drama but he is and he can’t help it. and zane’s dead. it’s just a compounding of the most stressful possible social drama with the most traumatic experience any of them have been through and anyway that’s why i am bullying jay ninjago and yoinking him from his coping via syndicated television phase. also the suit is funny

[misssakuramochi]

hey!! if it's alright, i'd like to request for a one piece matchup?

my name is mika, i use she/they pronouns, i am an infj-t, and i have no preference when it comes to what gender i'm put with! i am reserved, anxious, naturally pessimistic yet hopeful at the same time, i can actually be very outspoken and wild out in public (like doing weird stuff while out and about), and i tend to get lost in thought about the things i enjoy.

i like rock and indie music, i play electric guitar, i write and draw, and scroll through tumblr for hours to look at fanart and headcanons of my silly little loser guys (blorbos)

when i was in kindergarten, i ate sand from the sandbox once and i sometimes still taste it in my mouth, after all these years lol

anyways that's it really! tysm for having these matchups open, i was looking crazy hard for open ones but i couldn't find one until this godsend of a blog spawned in my radar <3 ty and have a good rest of your day

I match you with...

FRANKY

○ While you can be reserved, you come across as having a high-energy, spontaneous nature at your core. You just need someone to draw it out of you. Franky is perfect for that. With his own wild antics any and everywhere, he makes you feel comfortable being yourself. The two of you have a lot of fun together

○ Franky has a way of making you feel like everything will work out, even at your most anxious. Not only is he actually great at giving advice (he's been through a lot deep down, and he's learned a lot too) but he's so self assured all the time you can't help but actually start to hope for the best

○ Creative minds get along well, and while you're creative in different areas, it still draws you together. You love talking about both of your current fixations and projects

○ Franky thinks it's the cutest thing when you get lost in thought. He does it too, and he can always tell the difference between a happy and not so happy lost in thought, as to know of he should just leave you to your peace.

HEADCANONS

○ Franky BEGS you to play guitar so he can make sick entrances. He thinks you're metal as fuck. He's your biggest supporter and forever backup singer as he will make up songs to go with every tune you play.

○ Franky respects that you're more introverted with your thoughts and need time to process. He's very happy to just sit and tinker on machines relatively quietly while you do your own thing, but he does love to be around you whenever he can be.

○ Franky makes you things all the time. Most often it's little replicas of your Blorbos, or other things related. He tries really hard to make sure he makes things relevant to your interests

○ Franky's favourite thing in the world is to make you laugh. He knows how hard it can be to stay positive, and he wants to be the brightest light he reasonably can be in your life. He's always pulling stupid stunts to get a giggle.

○ BONUS! You mention the sand thing to Luffy. He tries sand. Gets very upset when he finds out its not I'm fact edible, and also does not taste good. How could you trick him like that. Smh. /j

---

TYSM for requesting! I'm glad you found my blog too! Thanks for your patience and I hope you like your match!!

-mochi

[joasis-rp]

A-Z (for Rio, but maybe don't let her know yet that it's from Xuxu. 🤭)

Things are subject to change with time, I've never done smut with her so this is all off the top of my head from what I think would fit her.

A - Affection: How affectionate are they during sex? Is it different with people they're romantically involved with? Can they sleep with people that aren't?

Wouldn't know since she's never had sex consensually but she'd likely be very affectionate and woud never sleep with someone who isnt

B - Body: Are they into a specific physique? Why or why not? Are they just preferences or complete turn offs?

Isn't picky but prefers more natural bodies (not crazy buff or fake boobs)

C - Chatter: Do they like to talk during the act? If so what do they like to talk about? Is it just dirty talk or something different?

Not that she likes to talk cause she's the most quiet of any of my muses but she might talk a bit more if nervous, she'd absolutely fail at dirty talk cause she's not the sexy type.

D - Dominance: Are they into those types of power dynamics? Or do they like to stick to whose topping and bottoming? If they are into it why? If they aren't why not?

she's absolutely a bottom so without being too rough she'd probably do better with someone who calls themself a top.

E - Erotica: Do they read or watch it? Does it get them in the mood? Do they create it themselves?

Not really but she doesn't read or watch much of anything anyway

F - Food: Do they believe certain foods can be aphrodisiacs? If so what foods are like that for them? Do they like using food in the bedroom or is it too messy?

I don't thinks he knows that's a tyhing and she would likely think that's gross tbh

G - Group sex: Have they ever tried it? Would they ever want to try it if they haven't? If they don't enjoy it why not?

She'd probably be too nervous since she'd have multiple people to please, though she wouldn't be entirely aainst it she would probably never end up doing it.

H - Humiliation: Are they into it? Why or why not? How far will they go? Do they enjoy being de-humanized or is it more being made fun of?

Nope, the opposite really, she's easily anxious and a bit sensitive, honestly this would likely upset her.

I - Intensity: Do they like intense scenes? Or are they more a slow and take their time kind of person?

She's a timid person soooo

J - Jousting: Do they like having more than one object or person inside of them? If so do they prefer toys or just multiple partners? Are they curious about it?

It's not something she's ever thought of so I don't know really

K - Kiss and Tell: Do they talk about their sex life to others? If they do do they go into detail or are they more casual about it? Do they share photos with other people or are those private?

This wouldn't be something she would ever feel comfortable talking about casually with others

L - Licking: Do they enjoy using their tongue on their partners or is it too gross? If so what are their favorite places to use their tongue?

She's part dog, she'd likely ADORE usingher tongue but her partner would need to be very clean

M - Masturbation: Is it a part of sex for your muse? Or is it something completely different? Do they enjoy watching their partner or being watched?

Masturbation is a private thing and she'd probably find it extremely intimate if her partner wanted to do that together

N - Nope: Do they enjoy orgasm denial or do they want to see how many times they can make their partner cum? Somewhere in-between?

Not sure, I think it would come down to tryingt hings and seeing how she feels in the moment

O - Open: Do they enjoy having things in their mouth? If so what are their favorite oral fixations? (fingers, toys, giving oral, etc.)

She's autistic so having soimething in her mouth can be a good distraction from her "bad" emotions so it would probably be comforting during sex, kind of like a distraction of sorts. Though she'd probably prefer less embarrassing things in her mouth, lol

P - Preference: Does size really matter to your muse? Whether it be for others or toys in general. Do they have a favorite type of toy they like to use? If so is it the same to use on other people?

Size doesn't matter whatsoever, it's how you use it. Heckwhere even the best vibrators are tiny but powerful.

Q - Quiet: Do they enjoy trying to see how long their partner can last without making a sound? Do they enjoy loud or quiet partners?

Noise can be embarrassing to make but hearing her partner is reassuring that things are going well, plus a moaning man is sexy tbh.

R - Risk: Are they into some risky kinks? (breath play, exhibitionism, blood play, etc.) If so what are their favorites? Do they practice them safely?

Not really since she has a past full of trauma and abuse. But she enjoys biting and leaving marks on her partner and doesn't mind her partners doing that in return

S - Suspension: Are they into being suspended like on a swing or during rope play? Or if not, what's the highest place they've ever had sex?

She doesn't like heights she's a small person and is rather fragile so being up high freaks her out cause if she fell she would be screwed (no pun intended)

T - TMI: Your opportunity to talk about any dirty thing you want to talk about with your muse. Could be kinks they like or just facts.

She adores having her neck and ear paid attention to, hugs from behind and spontanious touching are exciting but she cares a lot about consent and having a partner who makes sure she is okay with things means a lot to her because of her past. she secretly is curious about using toys in unconventional scenarios (like wearing a toy when you go out) but she likely would never indulge in that idea.

U - Underwear: Do they enjoy lingerie or dressing up for their partner? Or is it too much of a hassle? Favorite garments to wear? Do they ever go without underwear?

She likes the idea of wearing sexy lingerie uner her normal clothes, like a sexy secret only you and your partner know about. She always wears cute underwear but often times doesn't wear a bra since she's fairly flat chested. She only ever goes without underwear if she showers before bed and is too lazy to find clean panties.

V - Violation: Are there any kinks your muse flat out won't do or even people they know? Are bringing them up enough to turn your muse away from a potential partner for good? Any pet names get them like that?

Not that she is aware of at the monet, it would be something she learns over time. But she doesn't like people treating her like a kid or like she is lesser, she knows she looks young but she isnt a child and hates being treated like one. So no daddy kinks. she absolutely hates choking or anything that restricts her breathing, though a collar or choker necklace being tugged wouldn't be so bad.

W - Water: Do they enjoy shower sex or anywhere else that's wet like a pool or hot tub? Is it too awkward?

Probably not since it's just gonna make an already awkward situation more awkward.

X - X Ray: What's going on under your muse's clothes? Do they have any special scars or places they like to be touched or avoided? Describe their physique and anything else you'd like to expand on.

She's insecure about her chest size, she has an open heart surgery scar she is shy about and she also has self harm scars she avoids talking about. She hates her scars and a partner being loving toward her insecurities would probably be good for her.

Y - Yes: Do they have any specific turn ons? Things that will automatically make your muse say yes to sleeping with someone else. If not what are some other things that get them in a more romantic mood? Lighting? Dinner?

Someone who doesn't care about having sex, only wants to make sure she is comfortable and enjoying herself. She grew up feeling like people only cared about themselves so feeling loved and valued helps her like someone/. It's not exactly a turn on but it helps. Also without being too rough she like's slight dominance, she's small so someone bigger being playfully rough would be exciting, for example...pushing her down onto the sofa or against the wall and kissing her roughly. Nothing crazy.

Z - Zones: Favorite places they like to be touched? Are some less obvious than others? Any places they absolutely hate being touched?

Neck and ears and inner thighs. She's also extra sensitive where any of her scars are due to a genetic condition.

[roseygoddess-blog]

The idea of this post is to just word vomit and see what sticks. It’s been a while since I’ve done any sort of writing so I just wanna see what I can do.

I’m reminded of a short story I once wrote in school. All I remember was that it was set near water and featured a sad girl. How apt. If you end up reading this - enjoy. It’s been a while.

I took a deep breath. The waves thrashed, water foaming at the mouth like a sick animal. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands hoping to feel some sort of ache, a blistering awareness of how crazy I must look standing in the middle of a beach, 8pm on a Wednesday, rain lashing down my face, staring out motionlessly to the ocean. If I was to see someone else like this I’d probably call down and see if they needed help, check they were okay. Instead, it’s me that’s stuck in the sand.

Shaking the thoughts free from my head I stare back out. My therapy session was tough today. Finding out your brain doesn’t work in the “usual” way is kind of a shock to the system. I always knew I had my shit, never doubted it for a second, but to hear that from a professional? To hear that maybe, just maybe, I’m not just lazy, unmotivated, not good enough. Maybe I’m just different.

The air washes over my back and I take another deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty sea air, feeling the sea spray hit my cheeks. Or maybe it’s the rain. It’s hard to tell anymore, the weather is getting worse yet I’m powerless to move, stranded by my own doing. One of my goals in therapy was to find a bit of peace in all the mayhem. I tried it once by walking along this same beach, in the quiet evening, hoping the sounds of the waves softly lapping on the shore would calm my tangle of thoughts. Instead, it just made me anxious. Anxious about the fact that I’m not calm, instead I’m not really feeling... Anything at all.

Turns out that what my soul needed was catharsis. I wanted to see my rage played out in the anger of the ocean, see my hurt and pain fall in the sheets of rain, feel my fear in the wind bristling the hairs on the back of my neck. I am at one with the world, and it’s not pretty or calm or peace. It’s anger and rage and nature. It is a piece of me, held so tightly within my very being. Ready to come out. Ready to feel safe again. Ready to be heard.

I grab my phone out of my pocket and look at the screensaver. A picture of me, my partner and our two beautiful children. I am reminded that within this rage that there is beauty, love and warmth. The rage is a piece of me but the love is so much more, it envelopes me suddenly, filling me to the brim and bringing me out of my fixation. I slide my phone back into my jacket pocket, retrieving my gloves in the process. I blow hot air through my hands to start the warming process before slipping the delicate black gloves on. I take one last look at the ocean before I turn and head for home.

[tired-teacher-blog]

I need advice on something. I recently started seeing a therapist and to make a long story short I think one of the main issues I have is my dissociation. (I honestly didn't even know that was what I was doing until my therapist mentioned it briefly in our first session.) I'm not really sure how to talk about or explain it. When I become fixated on a particular character be it from an anime or book I dissociate that they are real in my reality. Im not delusional. I know they're not real, but in MY solitary reality they are. Or I suppose it's more like the other way around. I put myself in THEIR reality. I come up with full blown scenarios of how I met a certain character. Lets use MHA as an example. How do I fit in that world? Do I have a quirk? What is it? What is my relationship to this particular character? Do I have a family? Has this character met my family? If I hear something funny ill think "Aw man, I can't wait to tell *insert character name* later." If im feeling anxious I'll imagine that they are holding my hand or patting my head to get me through it. I guess I just feel weird about talking about it. Its not something I can just bring up. People will look at me like im crazy. I also feel like this is something incredibly private. My dissociation is something just for me, something no one can take from me. Its my safe place. But I'm wondering if doing this is unhealthy. Am I thinking its unhealthy because I'm supposed to think its unhealthy, or am I just overthinking things and its perfectly fine?

Hi sweetheart ❤️

Let me tell you one thing first, reading your words right now, I was nodding the whole time because I too have the same issue. I do the same thing, the exact same thing as you especially when I'm having a hard time in the real world.

Those fleeting moments when I retreat to that fictional world, and where I can be exactly who I want are precious to me, and as weird as this might sound, those moments helped me through a lot.

This is a part of why I created this space, it's so I can explore my imagination further without worrying about running into someone who knows me irl.

Each person has a different coping mechanism of facing their hardships: sports, art, cooking, creating your own world, reading or writing, watching a cool show... and they're all healthy and valid ways.

However, when these things pull you away from the real world and the responsibilities that await you, they become an issue because we are no longer looking at a stress reliever, but at an obsession.

What I'm saying is, I totally get you wanting to keep this to yourself because it's yours, a world you created for yourself and a space where you can escape your troubles (even for a moment), but what I'm asking of you is to be careful and to assess whether you're facing a stress reliever or an obsession that's swallowing you whole, if the latter, then it's time to seek help.

[purehoneybees]

When her lips brushed against his, he quickly stole the kiss. He knew he could take anything he wanted, from her, from now on. Their bodies were linked and belonged to each other. If he could, he'd still be fucking her right now—but their physical forms were still mortal; Their souls were God-like in nature. This unlocked something within them and it was obvious that it was for the better. "You're right." He whispered, taking in the fantasy of how much closer they would've been if they'd done this sooner. "God—Master." The word rolled off his tongue and he laughed. "It's crazy how much I like hearing that... I knew I had a huge ego, but damn. I just love being your master."

Now her body was pure. Her face was cleaned and her hair was wet. Ozzie's hands moved along her skin, enjoying the touch of her. It was crazy to think about how pristine he used to view love. She was beautiful here, but he knew the true beauty came when she looked like she undebatably belonged to him; when cum coated her face and tears streamed down her cheeks—that made her beautiful. He knew that the collar would be essential to allow her to maintain that beauty, without the mess. Eyes fixate on her neck and he smiles. "We'll get two collars." He decided, smiling as he thought of how pretty they'd be. "But I don't want the public one to be too quiet." Ozzie admitted. "As humble as I'd want to be, I can't deny how amazing it would feel to have everyone know the status of our relationship at all times."

The culture he was pulling her back into would never accept them fully. Whips were looked down upon. This was a whole different level of hedonism. The changes his life required to make this the perfect Master and Pet relationship were going to be grand. He didn't see a world where he could reel back. "A pet bed sounds lovely." Ozzie told her. Nothing about this could be quiet. He was proud to let them live in this fantasy for as long as they wanted. It was insane, but he had the money to provide and he knew she would be more than willing.

He closed his eyes and took in the feeling of her body and the warm water. It was poetic how the warm bath made it hard to seperate where his body ended and hers began. "Tell me more about being my pet." Ozzie asked, though the excitement and pride almost made it sound like he was begging. This idea and world was so new to him, yet whenever she told him a little more it made him even more invested. "Do you really want to be in cages and at my feet?" He felt as if he knew the answer, but it felt fantastic hearing her response nonetheless. 

"Imagining you in cat ears turns me on so much." Ozzie could feel his body warm up and yearn for her—if only he weren't bound by the physical limitations of his mortality; cumming three times in one night was already hard enough. "I just can't imagine you wanting to be at my beck and call at all times." Eyes open and look at her. "It feels too good to be true." His lower lip slips between his teeth as he begs her with his gaze. The look on his eyes practically ask her to calm any denial. He wants her to tell him how easy it is to be his pet—that the concept of being his personal sex toy wasn't as crazy as it sounded. 

Still being so naïve, Ozzie felt like they were on the cusp of a whole new world. It hadn't even dawned on him that there were other couples like them. He continues to wash her as he listens. Even now, there was the anxious doubt and fear that maybe this relationship wouldn't work—all relationships dealt with this. But something, within him, told him that he needed to trust her. So he did. And he was happy to dive into the feeling of puritanical love and trust, that only their new relationship would provide. 

again it felt like they were the only two people in the world. she found herself fully relaxing the moment she was in the tub. he had even found some of the candles she had and lit them. the room was bathed in a soft glow and the main light wasn't on. a soft smile appeared as he expressed how he felt for her only to kiss her forehead. instantly she giggled upon seeing the blush that decorated his face, knowing he likely had realized how much of a mess her face was.

she found herself exhaling as his arms came to wrap around her. already she knew they both were going to constantly feel the need to be touching in some way. it didn't matter if it was just by linking their fingers together or her knee brushing against his. she felt relief when she realized they would be going back to his place which was really now their place. she nodded happily in agreement," you might have to carry me out of here."

something told her that he was going to call for a car. she knew that again she was going to have to adjust. after all she never considered that she would be returning to everything she had left behind. of course it was going to be in a whole new fashion but she preferred it. before her and ozzie had never been able to truly confess how they felt or express what they truly needed from the other. now they had and it was partially because of her circumstances.

she practically melted into him as he began to clean her up. it was impossible for her to not notice how his fingers grazed her neck. the both were thinking along the same lines. that she needed a collar to signify that she was owned by him. she loved feeling how much he cared for her as he washed away the mess. he seemed to be treating her like he might one of his paintings, with utter care. some might not understand how she could love to be considered one of his works of art. yet no one needed to understand as far as she was concerned.

"sounds like we are going to be doing a lot of shopping tomorrow," she teased though she knew it was all needed. she hadn't gone on a shopping spree in ages. her face flushed at the very thought of doing it again," should we get two collars? one i can wear when we are home and the other when i'm out in public? something more discreet?" she wasn't sure how open he would want to be when it came to everyone knowing their status. she nuzzled back into him and pressed a kiss to his temple as he pressed his face into her neck," maybe we buy one of those pet beds? so i can be with you while you work in your studio?" she loved the idea of being curled up at his feet as he worked.

"thank you for being my master," she whispered back, knowing that what they were sharing was incredibly special. she turned her face in order to barely brush her lips against his own," this feels so right," she confessed," like we should have been doing this all along."

[chaoxfix]

older sonic & tails hcs. i think in general they keep their values and interests and in a lot of ways stay similar to their childhood/teen selves. but they mature in slightly different ways.

11 & 18: the ‘only kind of maturing’ era

already written a bit with my one fic

tails:

hes just starting puberty and is extremely messy, in both actual cleanliness and personality. still very fixated on advancing his tech and helping his friends, but now gets more frustrated at his limitations than before, recognizes he’s still a kid and is annoyed because he feels so close to being an adult even though he’s a long way off. prone to massive disorganization, only remembers details that relate to machines and tech and his friends’ needs. his friends start realizing that if they’re gonna hang out they gotta do it at the workshop, or invite him on a mission. hes trying to stop being a kid, but he does still have some ‘childish’ (re: fun. he’s allowed to have fun) interests like building things, logic puzzles and toys (‘they keep my spatial reasoning sharp!!!’ ‘ok buddy’), video games, various types of boarding, comics, collecting figurines etc. he’s less insecure in his tech designs, so much as he’s anxious about the consequences of anything failing. he knows his friends rely on his designs and he can’t let them down. he still likes going on missions/adventures, and will always go if asked. but he gets really stressed about not building enough if hes away from his workshop too long. he’s also a little more manipulative and less shy about using it. he’s a little shit when he wants to be. he knows everyone’s weaknesses he just needs to come at it from the right angle. his biggest weakness was always that he was a lil kid… now he realizes he’s gonna be way OP as he grows up. but if he does have one weakness it’s stretching himself too thin, trying things he’s not automatically good at, and traumatic responses. true creative thinking is also harder the older he gets, because he focuses so much on logic and designs and contingency plans that by design are about reacting to threats, not proactive. talking about feelings is also harder and harder. and his impulse control also gets worse. he gets twitchy if he isn’t busy. also — he tried taking on all the paperwork stuff about bills and taxes and parents at like, 8. but now he regrets it because he’s constantly forgetting. ultimately amy (now 15) starts helping him out.

sonic:

still a globetrotting hero. stir crazy if he’s not literally in the middle of an adventure, …but blended with the feeling that he’s done it all before. 100% going to get himself seriously injured around this age, and probably more than once. not quite ready to grow up as he didn’t really have a childhood. in a way, he lives a little of that through tails, trying his best to make sure tails stays more innocent and can be carefree for longer than he could. painfully aware that tails is now as old as sonic was when he adopted him. very aware of mistakes. keeps inviting tails on adventures though, because he knows it means everything to him to be included. also doesn’t fully get how much pressure tails feels about his designs, as he was always under the impression that tails builds things just because he loves it — like sonic is with running / racing. sonic continues to form rivalries … i think he might get mixed up in some more dangerous ones, and maybe start having some more serious relationships (?) but never quite commit to any of them as he’s not sure if that’s a good idea with how dangerous his life is. truthfully he didn’t really expect to make it this far, and can’t anticipate going all that much further, so he’s just winging it every day. he probably has some brand deals going that easily support his life style. it’ll 100% get manipulated by eggman though. (sonic happy meal toys attacking everyone like that kim possible movie…). he also still can’t talk about feelings. starts getting legitimately angry when people try to force it, but is overall still a very laidback guy. i think it might also be time for a new deep-seated phobia as he’s kind of OP. probably claustrophobia after forces… (and likely a few similar brief captivities afterward).

14 and 21: the angst era

tails:

similar to 11, but now with a lot more maturity and a little more calculated recklessness and manipulation. way more cautious about missions. he and sonic start butting heads about that; he’s old enough now, and probably sees things at this age that he couldn’t be shielded from. and with him being older and more assertive, it makes him a lot more unwilling to sacrifice others’ safety if there’s another way. starts building a LOT of contingency plans. even messier than before. like… he holds toxic waste in his lab for safe keeping. disaster teen. he’s also taller & stronger than sonic by a good amount and uses it to his advantage on missions. …and he has a villain arc, but low key. he trusts his friends with everything but their own safety and he creates a device that can perfectly protect them… by limiting their agency to fight/dive headfirst into danger. but there’s a hopeful ending to the angst. he finally starts getting some extra support and will only go up from here, for the most part. also might (?) have romantic interest but can’t find it in him to prioritize it.

sonic:

almost dying a lot lately. his friends are … worried. like. very worried. he’s finding limits that didn’t exist at 15, and has probably collected enough injuries that he’s getting frustrated about boundaries that didn’t exist before. might have a relationship that goes badly that puts him even further off of even mild romance. he’s kind of a mess at this age imo. everything blurs by to him and thrill seeking gets lethal. he is aware that he’s a mess, yet isn’t aware that total aversion to feelings might be … perhaps … be a bad thing. it’ll probably be a mission that uses emotions / etc against him that finally wakes him up. it’s all very messy. might start distancing himself from old friends, probably goes on more solo adventures and on various self discovery quests. needs a vacation. won’t take one. needs therapy, definitely will not be going. burned out era, low key; makes fewer new friends and old rivalries get nastier in many ways. he’s never an asshole, still good natured, but thoughtlessness/recklessness is driving his friends up the fucking wall. he’s absolutely the driving force of tails’s villain arc, and they fight / are on opposite sides in that adventure before coming back together. their bond survives and tails gets what he needs but sonic still needs some time to figure things out.

18 and 25: ‘almost real adults’ era

tails:

he’s balanced out from his teen years … by a lot. he finally has a system to keep things in order life-wise, even if his lab and house are still usually a wreck. still not amazing at talking about feelings but cares about it enough to make an effort… mostly. worries openly about his big brother and is allowed to. has a very successful business. attends ted talks a lot. has an anti bullying charity and helps kids get into STEM. might low key be thinking of adopting a kid someday but also knows he’s way too distracted with tech right now to make it work. not that interested in romance but knows he has time, not all that bothered. loves making designs. finds true creativity again. self assured in what he builds, and confident that his friends will be okay. will still have ups and downs but generally knows things are going to be okay.

sonic:

significantly less of a disaster than he was at 21. there is 100% a solo mission that he went on that changes his perspective at like, 22, and he comes back feeling more like himself, and starts to mellow back out. might be gone a whole year before he comes back but he’s doing better afterwards… chillin again. by 25 he fully has his shit together again, or as together as it’s going to be. after all, he’s still a whirlwind hero and it’s not like he’s ever going to be like, filing taxes or starting a family. but he’s got that steady confidence and a little more patience, and a greater willingness to share the load. finds that zest for life we all love him for. there IS STILL joy to be had by jumping into the active volcano and there is ALSO joy in wearing a protective lava shield courteous of his fox friend just in case.

[jschllatt]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Prompt: (Based off of the song I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys) Clay’s recent fame leads to a difficult decision to be made. Months later, he’s still regretful. You seem to be fine, so why can’t he move on, too? 

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst

Pairing: Dream x GN!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist

I spent a week on this and idk how I feel about it but I hope you enjoy <3

Clay had been consumed by an overwhelming emptiness, his entire body hollow as the lack of your presence took its toll. 

Two months. Two devastating months had passed since he’d made a grave mistake, and now he was facing the agonous repercussions. He was a mess—anyone could see it. Between his long, disheveled hair, the light scruff that covered his face, and his bloodshot eyes, it was clear that Clay’s mind had been somewhere else. And it had been. Every passing second was a constant reminder of his solitude, causing the emptiness in his heart to evolve into a deep, incessant void, no longer inhabited by the happiness you had ingrained in him just months before. Why? Clay was overcome with a sense of deep regret as a result of your absence, feeling more alone than he ever had before. What could have possibly happened to make him feel this way? To make you leave? The answer was rather simple—he was just too damn busy. 

Clay had dedicated a considerable amount of time to his career, filming or streaming during the little free time he had. As he grew more popular, the time that you had spent in each other’s presence dwindled significantly, each day becoming lonelier than the last. Your interactions with him had shortened drastically—what were once long, lingering kisses placed on your forehead had devolved into chaste pecks, void of any true care or meaning. While you understood entirely that Clay’s career was important, you found yourself slowly losing hope.

You realized it one day as he was filming. 

It was a day no different from the last. Clay was recording a Manhunt video in his office, his voice shrill as he begged his friends for mercy. He was always loud when he filmed, and though you had chastised him for it countless times, he never listened. A loud sigh escaped your lips, going unheard, and you shifted your position on the couch, uncomfortable. Everyday seemed to be the same—each as lonely and frustrating as the last. Clay’s ignorance only fueled your apathy towards your relationship more, and you couldn’t help but find yourself growing hopeless at the thought of Clay being unaware of your unhappiness. Your troubled thoughts continued until a week had passed—a long, grueling week in which you had hopelessly tried to burrow your apathetic thoughts. But you couldn’t. You were giving up. The realization of your unhappiness made a pit grow in your stomach. You knew that you cared about Clay, but you couldn’t keep living the way you were—tired, unacknowledged, pitiful. 

And so, you let him go.

Clay was editing by the time you gathered the courage to face him, your stomach nauseous as you approached his office door. A light knock signaled your presence, and Clay muttered a quiet ‘come in,’ his voice raspy after hours of unuse. Blowing out a breath, you entered the room, your expression sullen upon noticing Clay’s inattentiveness. His eyes were still glued to his monitor, deeply focused on editing rather than your presence. You waited for a few seconds, silently hoping he would pay you any mind, but he didn’t. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you managed to keep your voice steady as you declared, “We should break up.” Clay tensed in his seat, suddenly fixated on your words rather than the hours worth of footage he was editing. His chair turned with a quiet squeak as he swiveled around to face you. “What?” You sensed the subtle indignation of his tone as he squinted confusedly at your abrupt words. “We should break up.” You were much quieter this time, unable to meet his eyes as your words died silently in the tense air. You wrung your hands together anxiously as you leaned back on your heels, feeling awkward under Clay’s intense gaze. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and dealt with it. Maybe—

“Okay.” 

Immediately, your eyes flickered up to meet his, filled with a silent desperation as you searched his emerald irises for any indication of his intentions. Nothing. 

“Okay?”

Clay remained silent for a moment, his body stiff as he leaned back in his noisy chair. His expression was inscrutable as he stared at you blankly, trying to find the right words to say as he watched your face remain solemn at his confound brevity. His voice was level as he spoke, “I know I’ve been busy lately. We haven’t spent a lot of time together and that’s my fault. I could sit here and promise to change, but we both know I can’t—not right now.” Though you felt your heart shatter, you knew he was right. His job was too important, too time consuming.

A nod signaled your understanding and you turned to leave, feeling overwhelmingly dejected. 

“Hey.” You turned around to meet Clay’s eyes, noticing the hurt that was settled in them. “I hope you know I care about you.” You fought the urge to cry and shot him a watery smile, struggling to keep your tone unwavering as you agreed, “Me too.”

Two months had passed. 

Clay had been struggling. Everyone knew it—his friends, family, even his fans. It was clear that the once cheerful, happy man had become melancholy, suddenly depressed and unable to hide his unhappiness on camera. There had been numerous speculations of why this was, but only few knew the truth. Sapnap was among one of them and had been staying at Clay’s for the past month, creating content with his best friend while simultaneously making sure he was okay. Though two months had passed, Clay was still a mess. Perhaps it was because it hadn’t hit him that day. He had momentarily convinced himself that his career was more important than you, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted so desperately to reach out to you, but assumed you had moved on—another incorrect belief of his. Clay cooped himself up in his home, never leaving unless it was urgent. He had sunken into a deep depression and the only remedy for his pain was you. You. He treated you so poorly. Everyday was a constant reminder of your absence and it was his fault. He could’ve made more time for you, or at least spent the free time he had with you. 

Remorseful thoughts ran through his head everyday, nearly driving himself crazy, and Sapnap knew he needed to get Clay out of the house. 

“There’s a party tonight, I think we should go.” Clay immediately denied the offer with a shake of his head, grumbling to himself. His best friend sighed indignantly, blowing out a breath of frustration before stating, “You don’t have a choice, you need to get out of the house.” Sapnap stood his ground, arms crossed as he stared at Clay sternly. A minute had passed and Clay, aware of his best friend’s stubbornness, gave in begrudgingly, “Fine, but only for an hour.” Sapnap grinned triumphantly, exiting the room with a smirk. He slammed the door behind him, heading back to his room while yelling, “And shave, for fuck sake.” Clay shook his head, cracking a small smile at his friend’s words.

The party was overwhelming to say the least. Bodies swarmed the crowded living room, reeking of alcohol and sweat. Music blared from a speaker, a shrill, nearly deafening melody that was sure to give Clay a headache by the end of the night. The room was buzzing with conversation, every word drowning out in the loud atmosphere. Almost immediately, Clay was passed a beer, and he lifted the bottle to his lips to take a swig. If Sapnap was going to make him stay here, he may as well take some edge off while doing so. A few minutes had passed and he finished the bottle, discarding it in a bin nearby. “I’m gonna go get another drink.” Clay muttered to Sapnap, who was talking loudly to a group of people he’d recognized. His best friend patted his back in response, chuckling as he gave him a playful shove towards the kitchen. Stumbling through the drunken crowd, Clay soon broke free as he neared his destination. He grabbed a beer, opening it skillfully off of the edge of a table, and turned around wordlessly. Taking a big sip, he hoped to free his mind from thoughts of you. Though he wasn’t one to drink, especially when upset, Clay knew that, aside from you, alcohol was the only other solution to temporarily mask his pain. He’d already drank half before he warned himself to slow down, knowing that if he got too drunk, he’d probably do something he regretted. Turning around so he could rejoin Sapnap, Clay nearly dropped his drink on the floor, feeling his heart drop. 

His eyes met yours. And then, he heard the music. 

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathin’ in your dust.

Clay felt his breath hitch in his throat, noticing the surprise in your eyes as you stared at him, astonished. As he stood there, staring at you shamelessly, he regretted it—everything. He regretted how he neglected you, ignored you, prioritized all of the wrong things when the only right thing in his life was right in front of him: you. Memories flashed before his eyes, quick and familiar, yet saddening all the same. The way you smiled at him from across the room when he was filming, the way you held him when he was stressed, the way you spoke to him, softly, while he was streaming to check up on him. Everything.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

You looked away, suddenly nervous, though the eye contact was all-too-familiar. You felt your heart begin to race as you processed every detail of Clay’s face—from his anxious expression to the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like a mess. But so did you. You mirrored most of his tired, dejected qualities because you, too, were hurting. 

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

Snapping you out of your daze, you felt a tug on your arm. “Hey, you alright?” Your friend asked worriedly. Nodding briskly, you muttered a quiet ‘yeah’ and smiled in a poor attempt to sound convincing. Seconds passed, and you could still feel the intensity of Clay’s burning gaze as your friend tugged you through the crowd, handing you a drink in the process. You dared to look up, instantly locking eyes with Clay, and swallowed thickly. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when he was looking at you like that—desperate, longing. 

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Lifting up the red solo cup to your lips, you downed its contents quickly, eliciting a few laughs and impressed hollers from your friends. You were never the type to drink, but you felt that it was necessary, especially when you knew Clay was still staring at you intently. Downing another shot, you risked glancing up towards Clay, but he was gone. Suddenly anxious as a result of his absence, you surveyed the room. Nothing. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” You said before you could stop yourself, not giving your friends the chance to answer you before you ventured into the kitchen. You tried to dodge the swaying, drunken bodies as you made your way quickly into the room, frowning upon entry. Clay wasn’t there either. You sighed, frustrated, and grabbed a beer, struggling to open it. You nearly laughed at your incompetence, feeling sadly nostalgic despite the humor you found in your struggles—Clay had always opened your beers, then teased you for being incapable. You fought back an onslaught of tears at the memory and sighed deeply, leaning against the table with your head in your hands. 

Secrets I have held in my heart.

“Hey.” Your body jolted at the sound of his voice. Daring to turn around, you felt your chest constrict at the sight of him clutching your now-opened beer, a sad smile plastered on his tired features. 

Are harder to hide than I thought. 

“Hey.” You breathed. Clay passed the beer to your shaking hand, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed against yours. Chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously as he tried to find the right words to say, Clay admitted, “I’m sorry.” A few quiet moments passed, though they felt like an eternity, and you replied simply,  “Don’t be.” You tried to hide the tremor that shook your arm as you took another swig of your beer, noticing how Clay’s face fell in sudden disappointment. What? Did you say the wrong thing? You didn’t want Clay to feel guilty, to blame himself for your failed relationship though it was mostly his fault. Why? Because you cared about him. You could immediately sense the despair that washed over him. And, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the pure adrenaline from the moment, you hugged him. 

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Clay tensed at your touch, wondering if the beer had gotten to him or if this really was happening. It was. He soon wrapped his arms around your waist, grip purposeful as he tugged you into him. Your head rested against his chest, the steady thumping of his heartbeat in your ear far more of a melodic sound compared to any music you’d ever listened to.

Wanna be yours

Clay swayed the two of you softly, resting his chin atop your head. You clung to him tightly, shutting your eyes as he held you, gentle. “I missed you so much.” You admitted before your mind could even process it. Clay chuckled, lowering his head so his lips were close to your ear, “I missed you more, baby.” You tried to fight the grin that plastered itself on your face as you took in his words, squeezing his torso with such force you were sure he’d explode. Clay went to speak again, caressing your sides so gently you could barely feel it, before being interrupted. 

“Holy shit, there you are, dumbass!” 

Sapnap. 

Clay pulled away from you to glare at his best friend, trying to ignore the shit eating grin on Sapnap’s face as he glanced at you. “My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt...whatever the hell I just interrupted. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, but you clearly are.” Before either of you could respond, he left, shooting his friend a thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd. You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction, noticing the slight rosiness Clay’s cheeks had suddenly sported, embarrassed. “Sorry about that, he…” Clay struggled to find the perfect word to describe his best friend, but trailed off. “Yeah.” You agreed, seemingly understanding what he meant despite his silence. Clay laughed, then. The sound was music to your ears, and when his smile faded, the two of you were serious again. Clay’s hand found refuge in yours as he began to speak, his face solemn as he confessed, “I lied. I can change. I will right now if you want me to—I’d do anything for you.” 

Wanna be yours

You smiled lovingly at the man, interlocking the fingers of his hand that wasn’t already occupied in yours, and pulled him closer to you, wanting him near. 

Wanna be yours

“Deal.”

[wordsnstuff]

10 Mistakes to Avoid When Writing About Mental Illness

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Reinforcing Stereotypes

This goes without saying, but neurodivergent people (and characters) each experience and cope with their mental illnesses differently. Schizophrenia is not simply hallucinations. Depression is not simply feeling suicidal. Anxiety is not simply consistent fear or unease. Your character, depending on what causes/triggers their symptoms, will present their mental illnesses differently, both on the inside and outside. A person’s experience of mental illness is affected by their environment, their background, their priorities, their personality, and their other struggles. Reflect this in their story, rather than reading a long list of general symptoms and checking them off in your draft. 

1 Symptom Sally

Mental illness affects every aspect of an individual’s life. It’s more complicated and far-reaching than simply “having a harder time than everyone else”. Depression, for instance, is frequently portrayed with an acute emphasis on the symptoms of fatigue, lack of motivation, and sadness. However, depression has a lot of symptoms that many aren’t aware are connected to the illness, such as executive dysfunction, irritability, and sickness. Even those with a general diagnosis of a mental illness aren’t going to have that diagnosis just because they feel sad a lot of the time. There must be more, and it must be shown.  

Romanticizing Suicide

There’s a delicate balance between depicting the reality and gravity of suicidal thoughts/ideation and making it sound appealing. If you’re reading a story, narrated by a character who has suicidal tendencies, it’s inevitable that their thought process will justify or rationalize those thoughts. Approach this with care, and remember that as a writer, you have influence over your readers (whether intentionally or not), and you should prioritize the responsibility you have to avoid romanticizing suicide over the task of portraying it accurately. Some things simply hurt more than they help. 

Generalizing Experiences

Mental illness is inconsistent. Some people display two or three symptoms that are easily recognized, but some experience symptoms most don’t even associate with those illnesses at all. For example, generalized anxiety disorder can present in individuals with a more physically debilitating set of effects, rather than primarily manifesting in feelings of fear or unease. Yes, anxiety is the state of being anxious, but it can also be sensory overload, executive dysfunction, flu-like illness, and fatigue. Every mental illness is unique to the individual who struggles with it, so be aware that your characters should be representing that reality as well. 

Ignoring Coping Mechanisms

Most people who have a mental illness that has progressed to the point of seeking a diagnosis and perhaps treatment have established various levels of coping mechanisms. These can be things like substance abuse or self harm, but they can also be more subtle, like hyper-fixation on media they like or excessive reliance on friends or family. If you’re going to write a character with a mental illness, you should know what they have to do to get through the day. What exercises have they adopted to adapt to their situation? What effect have these mechanisms had on their lifestyle and relationships?

Illnesses Having No Effect On Relationships

Mental illness, especially after having struggled with them for a long period, affects who we are, how we behave and interact, and changes our priorities and thought process. It’s inevitable that it will impact our relationships with other people. In order to accurately depict this experience, you have to also know the characters on the other side, who are maintaining a relationship with your neurodivergent character. What are their thoughts on mental health? How well do they understand what your character is experiencing? Are they more likely to want to be there for or distance themselves from the character because of their mental illness? Strain on relationships can be a very distinct part of a neurodivergent person’s experience with mental illness, and it’s important to represent that. The stigma is still very real and shows up regularly, even in little ways, and in a more accommodating world.

Extreme Cases Only

Some people experience mental illness on a chronic level, others do not. There’s Seasonal Affective Disorder, which tends to only present symptoms in certain periods of the year for various reasons, for example. It could be classified as a “less severe” form of depression, and it’s very common. Not all depression is the same, and it doesn’t always result in severe cases of suicidal ideation or self harm. If you only depict characters in the most extreme cases, who experience their symptoms at the highest level at all times, you may be reinforcing stereotypes about neurodivergence that have taken decades to dismantle. Not everyone with mental illness has an extreme case, and pretending they do can reinforce the idea that all neurodivergent people are “crazy”. 

Good Days vs. Bad Days

Neurodivergent individuals usually experience their symptoms on a wide spectrum of severity. There are good and bad days, and everything in between. Sure, some days, one may experience virtually no symptoms and be very happy and productive, and be totally unable to maintain their composure on others. However, the majority of the time is occupied by a middle ground. Days where a person isn’t constantly on the verge of a panic attack, but they struggle to accomplish their typical agenda, and they feel a variety of symptoms at noticeable, but more manageable level. Symptoms can also intensify steadily and endure for variable periods of time. 

Curing Mental Illness With Romance

Let me say this clearly, and insist you don’t argue: mental illness cannot be cured by a relationship. I admit that new relationships or positive attention can offset symptoms, but if a character’s mental illness (such as depression or anxiety) miraculously resolves because a new partner comes into their life, they either weren’t mentally ill in the first place, or you have misunderstood mental illness. There can be months or even years where someone can go without experiencing their symptoms at a noticeable level, but they will always be neurodivergent, and a new partner isn’t going to change that. That portrayal minimizes the experience of mental illness and trivializes symptoms people suffer with every single day. Do not do this. Please. Just don’t. You can say your character has prolonged period of sadness, but you cannot slap the word “depression” on them, then have all their symptoms disappear because they’ve got a hot date.

Not Every Illness Is Caused By Trauma

This is simply a point of knowledge more writers should have a grasp of. Mental illness can be caused by genetics, chemical imbalances, deficiencies, severe and prolonged stress, longterm health conditions, social isolation or loneliness, etc. It’s natural that in a fictional story where mental illness may be an important aspect, that trauma is one of the more sensational causes to apply to your character, but if you have a cast with diverse experiences of neurodivergence, it’s unlikely that all of them will have a basis in trauma. Neurodivergence is not a one-size-fits-all. 

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[draw-back-your-bow]

Bun In The Oven | O.Q

My Masterlist | Request Guidelines | Send a Request

Pairing: Oliver Queen x reader

Request: “Hiiiii I hv a request for a story but don't want my username to be used at the beginning of the chapter. It’s a Oliver Queen x reader. You tell him you’re pregnant in a cute surprise way and his reaction is the cutest thing ever like tears and a bear hug. Ur a great writer and no rush to get it done ✅  ” | Requested by Anonymous

A/N: I have no idea how to write a pregnant lady, so I hope this is at least kind of accurate. Thanks so much anon for the kind words, I am so insecure about my writing so it means a lot <3.

Summary: You’ve been feeling off for a few days, but you weren’t expecting to be expectating.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of menstruation, implied sex (nothing explicit), a cursing

Word Count: ~2.7k

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Munching on some random chips you found in the closet, your eyes were fixated on one of the many monitors you and Felicity had in the Arrowcave. 

You winced when Oliver pulled back his bow and shot through the shoulder of one of the criminal’s he and the team were fighting off. Felicity’s eyes went wide at the attack, and she diverted her attention to a different screen.

“Well, they seem to have that handled.” She remarked, shutting down the display, much to your displeasure.

“No, no, no,” you complained as she hit the power button, “We have to see what’s going on. What if something happens?”

Lifting an eyebrow at your uncharacteristic display of concern, Felicity attempted to comfort you, “I’m sure they will come out on top like they always do.”

Though you were not convinced, as you stared at the previously active monitor.

“It’s just a routine bank robbery. Sure, the criminals have crazy, high-power weapons-” she started, before stopping when seeing your frowning expression, “But... the team’s done it a million times before. Ya know, a weapon’s only as strong as its wielder… or however the saying goes.”

Frowning at her answer and refusal to turn the computer back on, you crossed your arms and grumbled, “Well then excuse me for worrying about my husband. Who also happens to be the Mayor by the way.”

Felicity snorted, spinning her chair to face you, “Are you sure that’s the only reason you're so concerned all of a sudden? You’ve been acting different these past couple weeks. Is there something I don’t know about?”

“Felicity, I’ve always been this anxious while Oliver’s in the field.” You replied, rolling your eyes at the accusation.

“You say that, but lately you've been unusually worried, insanely fatigued by the most simplest tasks, and,” she enunciated while snatching the large bag of chips from your grasp despite your objection, “Eating anything and everything you can get your hands on. Now I’m no doctor but-”

You crossed your arms and glared at her, cutting her off, “Exactly, you aren’t a doctor. Felicity, nothing is wrong with me. I’m perfectly fine!”

Before Felicity could further argue her case, the elevator doors opened, and you jumped up from where you were sitting to greet your husband. Cradling his head in your hands, you examined his face, “Oh my gosh, are you alright? Felicity turned off the feed before you finished and-”

He interrupted you with an endearing smile and carefully stopped your hands from continuing their inspection, “It’s okay, I’m fine, nothing else happened.”

Walking past where you were interrogating Oliver, Rene remarked, “We’re all good too, if you were wondering.”

You offered a shy smile to the rest of the team, “I’m also glad that you guys are safe.”

Laurel snorted, “Considering you’ve fretted about our well-being every time we’ve gone out for the past month now, trust me… we know.”

“Well I have a right to be worried.” You sassed, but everyone was already on their way to change out of their vigilante gear into more comfortable clothes.

Having stayed behind, Oliver pulled you off to the side and inquired, “Laurel brought up a good point, you have been acting… different, lately.”

Not wanting him to worry, you brushed him off, “Oliver, I’m completely fi-.”

“I know I’ve been busy lately.” He interjected. “Being Mayor, the Green Arrow, and taking care of William. It’s a lot to handle.”

You felt tears gather in your eyes, though usually you wouldn’t have such an emotional reaction to a conversation like this. You stopped him, “I know, I just don’t want you to worry about anything else… about me.”

He pulled you in for an embrace, something that was uncharacteristic for him, especially in his place of “work”. He continued, “I am able to handle it… because I have you. I could never have asked for a better partner, and none of this would have been possible without your help. Whatever is happening, we can get through it together, okay?”

He pulled back, looking into your misty eyes for confirmation.

Nodding, you swiped away the accumulating moisture, “Yeah. Thank you for that. I just, I don’t know. I guess it’s one of those days.”

“Months, you mean.” Oliver corrected, which made you smile at the rare instance of him cracking a joke.

Placing your hands onto his chest that was still clad in firm, emerald leather, you pressed a kiss against his lips, “I love you, so very much.”

Returning your affection, Oliver hummed against your mouth, “Not nearly as much as I love you.”

Fondly smiling up at him, you raised an eyebrow at his claim. Knowing it was extremely unlikely.

“Well then, we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” you joked, “But why don’t you change out of your night-time suit, and we head home. William specifically warned us not to stay out too late.”

Chuckling, Oliver made his way to the changing rooms, “I will definitely change quickly then, I’d hate to disappoint.”

Smiling to yourself after he left the room, you gathered your things, getting ready to leave. All worries about what may be ailing you left your mind, there were better things that could occupy your thoughts.

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The next day, you typed your symptoms into Google, deciding to search the web for what your issue might be. You knew the internet often suggested the worst case scenario when it came to self-diagnosed illness, but you figured that you’d give it a shot.

Scrolling past all the normal answers of you having cancer or a tumor, your eye was caught on one that would explain all of your recent illness. Pregnancy.

Grabbing your phone, you checked your menstrual cycle calendar. But it only confirmed your suspicions. You missed your period.

Trying to find any possible explanation other than what you were starting to believe, you thought of any reason why you wouldn’t be pregnant. But thinking back to the nights you and Oliver have spent together, the timing between them and the beginning of your symptoms lined up.

Groaning at your realization, you became aware that you had no idea what to do next. In high school, you’d never had a pregnancy scare with any of your boyfriends. So therefore, never even had a plan for what to do in this type of situation.

You shot up from your hunched down position on the couch when you remembered that you hadn’t even taken a pregnancy test yet. This was still entirely theoretical and if it turned out that you weren’t even pregnant, then you had definitely learned your lesson on playing doctor.

Picking up your phone, you pressed Felicity and Laurel’s contact numbers, ready to finally get some answers.

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Half an hour later, the ringing of the doorbell sounded throughout your apartment. Luckily, Oliver was at work and William was at school, so you didn’t have to explain your unplanned guests. 

When you opened the door, you were greeted by your two best friends, holding a plastic bag from a pharmacy you assumed they stopped at along the way.

“Thanks so much for coming.” You greeted, ushering them inside.

Felicity exclaimed, “Well yeah! Of course we came, you can’t just say that you might be pregnant and expect us not to come.”

Laurel pulled out a box from inside the bag, revealing it to be a pregnancy test, “And we got this… assuming you haven't already taken one.”

Hesitantly reaching out to take the box from her hands, you shuddered, pulling back. “What if… I’m not, and just got worked up over nothing. I mean, I did look up my symptoms on Google, how accurate could that even be?”

“But what if you are? Then you’d have a person inside of you that you now have to care for. Wouldn't you want to know?” Felicity shot back.

“Plus,” Laurel added, shoving the box into your arms, “We’ve already gotten the test. Now all you have to do is take it.”

Backing up into the bathroom, you unboxed the item and followed the instructions on the package. Once you were finished, you called Felicity and Laurel into the small room. Leaning your head against the wall, you refused to even look at the test which was placed on the sink.

“Do you want to... see the results?” Felicity asked.

You furiously shook your head, “Nope, just tell me. I can handle it.”

Placing a hand on your shoulder, Laurel started, “Well congratulations...”

“Looks like you have a bun in the oven.” Felicity finished.

Your head snapped up to look at the two women. Mouth agape, you scurried to the test which was still laying on the sink.

Sure enough, you saw the two little red lines, confirming what you already suspected to be true.

“Oh. My. God.” You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth, “I’m pregnant.”

“Yep.” Laurel commented.

Seeing your wobbling stance, Felicity led you back out to the couch, letting you sit down and process this new revelation.

Holding your head in your hands, you took a deep breath. “What am I gonna do?”

Laurel raised an eyebrow, questioning you, “Tell Oliver… you know, your husband.”

“What she means to say,” Felicity corrected, sending a glare in Laurel’s direction, “Is that now, you and Oliver can move forward together. As you’ve both always done. You’ll make it work.”

Mumbling through your hands, you admit, “We’ve never even discussed having kids. We have William, how’s he going to react to all this? Oliver is the freaking Green Arrow! Oh my god, our child’s going to have a target on their back-”

Before you could continue to spiral, Laurel cut you off, “Hey, listen to me. Your and Oliver’s kid is going to be the most protected baby on this planet. They will have an army of heros to protect them. And not to mention a badass aunt.”

Felicity threw in, “And a genius godmother.”

“That too.” Laurel continued, “The point is, this will be the luckiest kid ever, and nothing bad will happen to your baby.”

A small smile spread across your face at her encouragement, “Really?”

“Definitely.” Felicity assured.

Laurel reached across to grab something else from the bag, “Plus, we kind of already expected this outcome.”

Pulling out a green, infant bodysuit, you grinned when seeing the words ‘Little Hero’ on the front, accompanied by a picture of a bow and arrow.

When Laurel gave it to you, you couldn’t help but coo, “Aww, this is so adorable, where did you get it?”

Felicity beamed, “There was this really cute superhero themed store on the way here so we had to make a stop. There was also a Flash one but we decided to avoid any unwanted confusion.”

Giggling, you admired the onesie. Looking back at your friends, you put down the outfit to hug them.

“Thank you both so much, I have no idea what I would have done without you guys.” You confessed, getting misty eyed for the second time in twenty-four hours.

“Well, don’t start crying on us,” Laurel teased, “It’s contagious.”

Felicity sniffled a little, pulling back from the group hug, “Too late.”

Standing up from the couch and checking the time, Laurel announced, “Well, while we’d love to stay and celebrate, we’ll give you time to plan how to tell your husband, and we didn’t go through all this just to ruin the surprise.”

Chuckling again at her, you wiped the stray tears from your eyes, “Thank you both, once again.”

Making your way towards the door, Felicity reassured, “It’s what friends are for. But I was serious about the godmother thing. I really think you should consider.”

You laughed, nodding, “Definitely Felicity. And Laurel, you’re going to be a wonderful aunt.”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Laurel smiled. 

Nodding at her, you led them out the apartment, waving as they left.

From across the hall, Felicity yelled, “Call us after you tell him the news!”

“Will do!” You hollered.

Before you even made it back inside, Oliver was at your side, holding open the door.

Jumping back a bit at his unexpected presence, he placed his hands at your sides in an attempt to steady you. Holding a hand over your heart in surprise, you breathed, “Oh my god Oliver I almost had a heart attack. What are you doing home so early?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Oliver chucked, holding his hands up in surrender. He then gestured to the massive, brown stain on his white dress shirt, “Someone spilled coffee on me while I was out and I figured since I was close by, I could pay my beautiful wife a visit.”

A smile spread across your face at his words, and he swooped down to give you a peck on the lips. Leading him inside, you spoke, “Well then, thank you for paying me a visit. I was meaning to talk to you.”

Oliver went into your shared bedroom for a second, only to emerge shirtless, with a clean top in hand. While buttoning up the dress shirt, Oliver kept his eyes on yours while you made your way over to the box you kept the tiny onesie in.

“Is everything, okay?”

You nodded at him, “Yes… well, I think so at least.”

Walking back over towards him with the box hidden behind your back, you let him get situated before revealing it to him. When you gently placed it in his hands, he questioned, “Okay… what is this?”

Clearing your throat, you felt your eyes start to water in anticipation. You mentally crossed your fingers before instructing, “Um, I think it’d be better if you opened it and saw for yourself.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Oliver gave you a cautious glance before fixating back onto the small package in his hands. Gently lifting the lid of it, he set the container on the counter and held up the onesie.

Opening his mouth yet closing it repeatedly, tears began to form in his eyes as he desperately looked between you and the item of clothing for an answer.

“Oliver-” you started before he interrupted you, finally being able to gather the words.

“We’re having a kid?” He breathed, mouth agape as he now stared at you.

You slowly inched towards him to take one of his hands and place it on your stomach. You sighed while nodding, “I'm pregnant, Oliver.”

You could now prominently see the water in his eyes as in one swift movement, he placed the outfit onto the table then engulfed you in a hug, one arm around your waist, the other cradling your head.

In surprise, you stuttered out, “You… you’re happy?”

Pulling back to look you in the eyes, his eyes furrowed and asked, “Are you not? I never imagined that I would get the chance to start a family with someone I love and now… now we get to do that.”

The tears that you tried so desperately to hold in where now cascading down your face as you grinned, “Yeah, Oliver. We do get to have a family, and everything we’ve ever wanted.”

▣▣▣▣▣ Thanks For Reading! ▣▣▣▣▣

[quokkacore]

lost and found [bang chan]

summary: looking for your soulmate is difficult to do when you’re also looking after your daughter. but on a chance shopping trip, when you lose her, you end up finding her, and your soulmate, whose soft smile and cute dimples offer a lot of promise.

pairing: musician!chan x singlemom!reader

genre: soulmates au, slice of life, meet-cute, holiday special-ish?, fluff, minor angst towards the beginning.

warnings: brief mentions of kidnapping, language, eating 

song rec: exo - wait // chen - shall we?

word count: 2.1k

a/n: helena writing something that isnt angsty or smutty? apparently thats possible. december is gonna be pure winter fics says the girl who lives in a country where its SUMMER but go off and i’m posting a two part exo fic tht i’m rlly excited for on christmas eve and christmas day, so pls look forward to tht ^^

It only took a minute. It felt like even less. You turned your head to look for a sales employee, and let go of your 4 year old daughter’s hand to grab the hand she was holding onto to look through the shirts you were going through. Your eyes and hands were off of Annie for the briefest of moments, and when you reached out again, when you turned your head to look downward… gone. Like the wind. 

That had been ten minutes ago. Now, you were wandering around the department store like you had gone crazy. To a certain degree, you had. Don’t panic if you lose sight of your kid, all the parenting articles had said. So naturally, you were doing exactly that. Once your mind got the gears turning, it was hard to get them to stop. Your inner pessimist was already whispering to you, what if she left the building? What if some creep snatched her up? What if she had gotten hurt? 

Why couldn’t you have just stayed home on your day off? Why did you have to decide to haul yourself and your daughter along to the mall to do your holiday shopping today? You were immediately beginning to regret every decision you’d made in the past few hours, tears prickling in your eyes and a lump beginning to grow in your throat. 

You wondered vaguely if she’d left the department store and was now wandering around the mall. That could be an entirely different possibility. You’d gone around the department store twice now, not seeing a single sight of her. Your grip tightened on her winter coat—which she had given to you when it got too warm for her from being inside—and started looking for a security guard instead. Maybe they could call out to the other security guards in the mall and keep a lookout.

Just as you spotted one, beginning to think of what you could say to give a physical description—her hair and eye color, which were both the same as your own, the red t-shirt she had on, the jeans, her height—a notification bell rang throughout the department store on the speaker system. 

“To Annie’s mom, Y/N,” The woman on the PA system said, “Your daughter is at the help desk at the north entrance of the building.” 

A swell of relief swept through you as she repeated the announcement one more time, and your feet, of their own volition, started towards the exit of the department store. What a fucking relief. You had entered toward that side of the building; meaning, yes, she’d left the store, but she hadn’t gone too far. Your heart was racing, sprinting towards the entrance. Your eyes darted back and forth, desperately waiting for the desk to come into sight as you rounded the corner. 

When you turned, your eyes caught sight of your little girl, Annie, standing in front of the desk, teary-eyed, next to a young man in a black hoodie, watching her quietly. Your feet sped up, and when you were about fifteen feet away from the desk, your daughter turned her head to the sound of quick feet making a mad dash across the floor. Her eyes widened, and her little feet shot in your direction. “Mommy!”

She ran up to you, and you crouched to grab her in your arms, engulfing her in a hug that felt like it was more for your sake than for hers. You could feel a giant weight falling off of your shoulders as he sniffled against your shoulder. You found yourself having to blink tears out of your eyes. Pulling away a few seconds later, you wiped away a stray tear trickling down your little girl’s cheek.

“Honey, you can’t just walk away from me like that,” You murmured shakily, “I was so worried.” 

“‘M sorry, mommy,” She sighed in a small voice, lower lip wobbling. Your heart clenched at how upset she was, and you put your hand on her cheek to calm her down. “Wanted t’go look at the toys. But I didn’t see you ‘nymore after.”

You sighed, pursing your lips. “I’m so glad you’re safe. How did you find your way to the desk?”

Annie turned her head, wide eyes fixing on the man in the oversized hoodie. Dark, frizzy curls paired with eyes of the same color, warm and welcoming, watching your interaction with his elbow propped up against the desk. “He helped me. Showed me where t’go.”

Your eyes met the man’s, and you stood slowly, holding onto Annie’s hand. You made your way over to him, flashing him a small friendly smile. “Annie says you helped her find her way here? I can’t thank you enough. I was this close to losing my mind.” 

He let out a quiet laugh, nodding sympathetically. “I can imagine,” He replied, revealing a deep Australian accent, “I remember when I was a kid, my little sister got lost at the supermarket. My mum just ‘bout went nuts looking for her, and she was only missing for like five minutes. When I saw your daughter all alone, I got this horrible feeling, and I remembered my mum… I couldn’t just leave her there, y’know?”

You laughed. “Kids,” You sighed warmly, “You can’t take your eyes off of them, not even for a second. But honestly, thank you, uh, Mr…?”

He smiled, and as your other turbulent emotions began to subside, you realized he was insanely cute, taking note of his rosy, heart-shaped lips and his dimple. “Bang Chan. Uh, but just Chan is fine! Really.”

“Chan,” you repeated, your smile growing. You turned your head to look down at Annie. “And, what do we say to Chan for helping you, Annie? Sweetie...?”

But she didn’t seem to be listening to you. She was too busy gawking at your hand, which was holding onto her little one. You furrowed your brows, eyes falling to where she was looking, before your mouth fell open. 

This was the last thing you were expecting, you thought, as your eyes fell upon the red string tied around your finger, eyes trailing forward, forward, until they made their way to Chan’s index finger, and then even further, meeting Chan’s eyes, which were wide as saucers. Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting this either.

 “Mommy,” Annie said, confused, “That string just showed up out of nowhere. Like magic!” 

It was your turn to not answer now, too in shock, blinking stupidly at Chan, who was doing the same. It felt like an out of body experience, unable to stop your mouth from gaping like a fish, while watching you and this ridiculously charming, handsome-for-absolutely-no-reason man come to the realization that the universe had tied you together, quite literally.

“I-I…” You choked out, unable to speak. Oh my god, you idiot, you thought, say something! Don’t just stare!

“Mommy.” Annie’s free hand was tugging on your long, brown winter coat now, which snapped you out of your idiotic gawking. You looked down at her, and her eyes were glittering with excitement. “The string! ‘S’the one you told me about last week! Th��one that shows up when you meet your… your… snow mate!”

That seemed to truly snap you out of it, for some reason, and you let out a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“Annie, I think you mean soulmate.”

“Yeah, that!” She started jumping up and down, and your face grew a crooked smile. You looked back at Chan, who was watching the interaction warmly. His eyes met yours when he realized you were looking at him, and he smiled at you in a way that made your heart do an anxious little tap dance, like he had known you for years and wanted to catch up.

In a way, it was true.

“So…” You said, “You said your name was Chan?”

He giggled a little at your breathless tone, and you grinned giddily. You felt like a teenager. It was honestly a bit embarrassing. 

“You wanna get some lunch? My treat.” He sounded insistent, but his eyes were still creased up with his welcoming smile. “I insist.”

“What are the odds?” You asked with a smile, having finished your lunch—some pizza from the mall Chan had insisted on paying for—a few minutes ago, now watching Annie run around over on the indoor playground with some other kids there. Chan was sitting across from you at the table. “The last thing I was expecting was to find you, y’know?”

“I think there was a higher priority on your list of things you needed to find at the moment.”

“Ha, ha,” You deadpanned, “You’re hilarious. Tell another one.”

“Alright, what do you call a—”

“No!” You said with a giggle. “I heard enough earlier when you told me the one about the yakuza and the jacuzzi.”

Chan laughed gleefully, resting his chin on his hand. The string had since disappeared—they disappeared some ten minutes after meeting your soulmate. “But really, it is pretty crazy. I read a few weeks ago that only 3 out of every 10 people actually manage to find their soulmates.”

He didn’t respond but his eyes studied your face, gaze fixated on the bridge of your nose. “Call me biased,” He murmured, “But you’re very beautiful.”

You looked down, feeling your face heat up. “Thank you. You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

“Ah, thank you.” It was Chan’s turn to smile bashfully, the tips of his ears turning red. He looked down at his hands, which were on the table. A brief silence settled over the both of you, and you pondered over how he had been during lunch, gentle in his questioning but also incredibly sweet whenever Annie said something or asked a question, and how he always looked genuinely interested in what she had to say. 

As a single mom, you never really had time to date. But both times that you given it a try, they didn’t seem to care about Annie or what she had to say. But here, now, Chan had been so happy to explain how he made music when she asked, or let her have the last slice of pizza, and it didn’t come across as disingenuous. It didn’t have the slightly condescending lilt some people put on to talk to younger children. He didn’t speak slowly and loudly, but he was aware that he needed to simplify his language given that she was still a little kid. He took things at her pace, and you could see that Annie warmed up to him instantly. 

Still, you were a little wary.

“Look,” You said softly, eyes turning to the playground, looking for Annie. When you found her, chasing a little boy around, you smiled softly. “I’m really excited to have found you, Chan. It’s something I’ve always wanted but never expected. But… y’know, I’m a mom, above everything else. Ever since she was born, Annie’s been, and always will be my number one priority. I need you to understand that.”

You met his eyes again, and they had turned more serious, attentive to your words. “I totally understand that, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to come between you and her, and I don’t expect you to drop everything for me. Especially if it involves Annie.”

“Thank you,” You answered softly, nodding. “It’s hard for her. Her dad and I broke up a few months after she was born, and she sees him maybe once or twice a year. She’s in such an important age for her development, and needs me just as much as I need her, y’know?”

He nodded again, humming in accordance. “Of course. I’m totally willing to wait if you’re not ready yet, or if you want to set certain boundaries for her wellbeing... Whatever you feel is best for her.”

Slowly, his hand made its way to rest on top of yours. He was almost cautious about it, brushing his fingers gently against your knuckles. “You really made my day.” His voice was warm, eyes full of mirth. You smiled. “You made mine too. Because I found my soulmate and you stopped me from having a heart attack by saving the day and finding Annie. I’m never gonna thank you enough for that.”

He laughed. “I’m glad I was able to help. It led me to you.”

Lowering your head as your heart skipped a beat, you looked at his hand on yours, then at Annie, and finally back at him. A rosebud of hope began to bloom in your chest.

Seeing his dimples as his eyes shone, you had a solid feeling it wouldn’t ever wilt.

taglist: @decembermoonskz​ 

[mandoalorian]

Hey i heard that you are in our blonde man mood, so what about Maxwell and reader having a car accident. Angst hurts but you wrote that amazing.

Those Three Words [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: This was tough. I knew it was going to be tough the moment I received the request but oof— I don’t know if it hit differently because Maxwell is my comfort character or… I just. Thank you for the prompt though, and the lovely compliment. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: car crash, injury, blood mention, hospitals, coma mention, mention of stalking, angst.

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: 13+

MASTERLIST

READ PART TWO HERE

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal (let me know if you want to be added!)

You knew it would never be easy. Dating Maxwell Lord was never going to be a walk in the park. He had his moments, dazzling you with his smile and making your heart melt just from the simplest of touches. You forever cherished the moments on a morning where he'd hold you tight in his arms, your body pressed against his chest. He'd plant lazy kisses along your jaw and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The strain on the relationship came from his fame. He had warned you before you had both decided to become official. He'd warn you that the paparazzi would go wild once they found out you two were dating. He knew he had obsessive fans who would try doing anything in their means to split you both up. It was hard, but you and Maxwell were more than confident that your love for one another would transcend any difficulty.

That morning was your worst fight yet. "We are going to be late for the meeting," Maxwell growled. "Will you just get your shit together and get in the fucking car?" You had never seen him so angry before. You'd seen him shout at his employees, treat them like dirt, but this was different. His voice was low and gruff and dripped with hostility. It scared you, just a bit. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and took a deep breath.

"Don't talk to me like that," you snarled back and his head snapped in your direction when he heard your tone of voice. "You need to do something Max. This is getting too much." you were practically begging.

"I can't- I- what can I do? Tell me, what can I do?" he asked, throwing his arms up in the air, completely exasperated. It was only the morning but his dark blonde locks were already falling out of place and he had loosened his tie. The work day hadn't even begun.

"I don't know!" you cried. "But you have to do something."  you gulped. "You have to. Max please-" you sobbed, falling into his chest. You wanted him to hold you, and shush you, and promise you that he would handle it. That everything would be okay.

He rarely said I love you. You didn't mind so much, because he had his own way of showing it. They were just words and— actions spoke louder than words. But just this once you wished he would say it. You wished he would say those three damned words. He felt your tears dampen his shirt and he gently pushed you off him. He took the magazine out of your hand and sighed before throwing it in the trash.

He wanted to burn the magazine. The dumb tabloid journalists who had taken photos of you when you hadn't even realised. Stalked you. It disgusted him, it angered him.

You shakily folded your arms over your chest and looked at him with glazed eyes. He looked pained too, you could just about tell. The slight uncomfort in his posture. Although Maxwell Lord rarely spoke about his feelings and he did a hell of a good job at hiding them. You had known him long enough to just about identify when he wasn't doing okay. You swallowed the hard, anxious lump in your throat.

"Come on." he said quietly, but he didn't even move, and neither did you.

"Max," you whispered sadly, feeling another tear fall down your cheek.

"Don't," he croaked, pursing his lips together. He turned around and opened the front door, waiting for you to walk out of the house and get into the car that was waiting for you so he could lock up. "Jeeves is waiting. Go." 

You sniffed, taking a deep breath and quickly checking your reflection on the way out you did your best to fix your appearance. No doubt the paparazzi would be trying to snap photos of you and your boyfriend. You and Maxwell both slid into the back of the car. Neither of you spoke a word during the first half of the journey.

"You're acting like this is my fault." Maxwell said stiffly, not even bothering to turn to you.

"Is it not?" you asked but regretted the words as soon as they departed your lips. It was unfair to blame him. He had warned you. He had.

Maxwell looked down with guilt and shame bubbling within him. "If you're not happy-"

"Stop it." you snapped.

"Because you don't seem happy." Maxwell continued.

"Stop!" you cried out, startling even the driver.

"Max, you can afford security. Or lawyers. You can afford to sue the papers or even pay paparazzi off. Fuck, I don't know how this shit works. I don't know but those people are crazy. They terrify me." you admitted. "I'm begging Max."

"I should have this business deal closed by the end of the week. Then I can-"

"Oh my God, fuck the business deal! Max, this is our relationship, this-" you stopped, your eyes fixating on the rear view mirror. "Jeeves… how long has that car been behind us?" you asked hesitantly, your fingers curling into an anxious fist.

"I'm not sure ma'am, would you like me to take a diversion?" Jeeves, the driver, questioned politely.

"No," Maxwell replied before you even had time to open your mouth. You scowled. "I'm already late for work. Don't need to be any later."

"Max," your voice was timid. Shy. Afraid. "I really think that car has been following us."

"You're paranoid." Maxwell rolled his eyes.

"No, Max I-"

"You're paranoid because of everything that's happened this morning. Because of the magazine-"

It was when Jeeves turned at the next junction, the car behind you crashed into yours. You heard the windows shatter and Maxwell scream your name, but then. Blackness. Darkness. Nothing.

***

Fuck, Maxwell knew he had fucked up. You didn't even want to leave the house this morning— he knew that. He knew you'd rather just lay with him, in bed, subdued in the morning sunlight. He knew it and yet he still selfishly chose to ignore it. He had to go to work; he had to close the business deal. Once again he had made the mistake of prioritising his damn job over you. Over your wishes. Over your relationship.

You grazed his thumb over the cut in his eyebrow as his feet tapped impatiently. The hard blue chair he was sat in grew more uncomfortable by the minute as he waited for the doctors to finish your check up. Jeeves was okay, the airbag hidden in the steering wheel saved his life. He'd gone home for the rest of the day. Maxwell suffered a few cuts and bruises from the broken glass and his face slamming into the seat in front him. He thought he had broken his nose but the x-rays showed that he was fine. A few stitches and he'd be healed within weeks.

But you… 

Maxwell groaned, rubbing his head and slowly opening his eyes. His own seat belt had snapped and he cursed at the way his head was pounding. He could already hear sirens. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious for, but it mustn't have been too long. He shuffled upright into his seat, peaking over only to find that Jeeves was gone. He wasn't in the car. Then, he turned to face you.

You were curled up in your seat, your eyes shut. For a split second, Maxwell felt nothing. He looked at you and admired your beauty. Your softness and your angel-like features. You were as still as ever. Your hair was tangled in your seatbelt, your cheek pressed against the leather of the seat. Maxwell leaned over and cupped the side of your face, gently tilting it to one side. It wasn't until his action revealed a pool of blood dripping from a deep cut in your neck, he began to panic.

Panic was an understatement. His heart dropped. It broke within an instant. He looked closer, examining the cut and trying to make out how serious it was but there was too much blood. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't do anything. He was helpless. The sirens began to get louder but it was like everything was happening in slow motion.

"Baby," he whimpered, tapping you lightly. "Baby." he repeated, this time his voice louder and more stern. He dropped his hands to your shoulders, picking up your lifeless body and cradling you in his arms. Your arm flopped across his legs and your eyes remained closed, despite his pressure to awaken you. "Hey," he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes. "Hey stay with me. Stay with me."

He cried your name. He sobbed hysterically. He placed his hand under your shirt and over your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat. Your skin was still warm and a flood of relief washed over him, but you still weren't responding. Maxwell pressed his lips against your forehead, his salty tears dripping onto your face. "Please." he croaked. "Don't leave me. You can't. You can't-"

The doctor interrupted Maxwell from his thoughts. "Mr Lord," he said. Maxwell felt sick. He was preparing himself for the worst. What if this was it. What if you were gone. He'd lost the love of his life, just like that. It would be all his fault. He could never forgive himself. "She's stable, but unconscious. We think she might be in a coma which is concerning but we've booked her in for an MRI scan this afternoon. We'll have to take it from there."

"Can I go see her?" Maxwell asked. The doctor barely had to nod before Maxwell bolted past him and into your room.

You were laying in bed, tied to an abundance of machines by wires and tubes. Maxwell's heart sank. He slowly approached you, and sat on the edge of your bed. Hesitantly, he held your hand. He wasn't sure if he deserved to even touch you. He couldn't help but blame himself. If he had just listened to you...

He hissed when he felt how cold you were. Your hands were like blocks of ice. He gently smoothed your hair out of your face and cupped his hands on your cheeks, desperate to bring you some kind of warmth.

The worst part about it, he had been fighting with you all morning. He didn't even get the chance to tell you how much he loved you. He loved you so much.

"Darling," he sobbed, shuffling out of his suit jacket and wrapping it over your body. "I don't know if you can hear me. I heard- I heard on the television that sometimes, a person in a coma can hear you if you talk clear enough, I- I hope you can hear me." he choked out.

He prayed for you to make some kind of movement. Show him some kind of sign. But nothing.

"Listen darling, you're strong. Strongest person I know. I need you to wake up for me because I love you so much and I need to prove to you that I can fix this. I can handle it. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry I let this happen." Maxwell conceded, trying to compose himself. "I can't live without you. I need you. I love you."

It was the three words you had longed to hear this morning. Those three words.

I love you.

You stirred, only slightly, but it was enough for Maxwell to notice. "Nurse!" he screamed. "I need a nurse!" your eyes were still closed but he felt you give him a small, reassuring squeeze of his hand. It was weak, it was tired, but it was you. Tears began to spill from Maxwell's eyes. "Yes, yes baby," he cried. "I know you're there. I know you can feel me. Listen, I love you okay? I love you. You're going to get through this." he encouraged, pressing a kiss into your lips.

It was a doctor who pulled Maxwell away from you. Nurses scrambled around you, checking your vitals and the machines as Maxwell stood there and watched. "Be gentle with her." he whimpered, but earned no response.

He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't lose you. He loved you.

[funkymbtifiction]

2 or 6??

Can you please help me with my enneagram? I am sure my mbti is INFJ. I am intensely symbol-focused and have a specific vision for my future, everything my mind deals with is very abstract. Also, I am very emotional and aware of other people's emotions. Yet, my enneagram is unclear. I could be a 2 or a 6 (my instincts are so/sx). I am the type of person who puts "under the rug" all my problems, and the one who always says that everything will turn out fine. If someone needs help I will always offer my hand, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Almost all my money goes to gifts for others. I have always been crafting an image of perfection, just adopting traits, sometimes traits very different from my true self, just so others can love me and admire me. As a child, I would write in great detail how I need to behave to be perfect. I had this set of notebooks which held the title "Medium-large summary of kindness and success" it was a series of at least ten notebooks, I was obsessed with my image. And don't let me get started on being a romantic person. I take in romantic scenarios from movies and books like crazy. I am always trying to make myself look and act attractive. I can be very narcissistic, dramatic (always exaggerating expressions of emotions and reacting strongly to minor events). I need attention from others. Being loved is so important to me.

That's a solid argument for 2w1.

Yet, I am in my core a very negative person. [...] My whole life I have been paranoid about my relationships. I was never able to just sit for a coffee with someone and enjoy it, I have to analyze everything they say. I feel like I am looking for evidence a person doesn't like me, always suspicious. It takes so little to make me start panicking.

That is still more 2 than 6, because the anxiety is centered around relationships and rejection. I once heard that a 2 giving a speech will notice the ONLY PERSON in the audience who doesn't appear to like them and fixate on them, rather than seeing the other 800 people who like them. And being a social dominant, of course you would be terribly anxious about being liked, being rejected, etc.

What I said in the first part about me being dramatic and emotional absolutely stands but I am also very pragmatic, no-nonsense, and rigid. I can be so contradicting in these matters.

Normal for a rigid 1 wing, infringing on the 2's emotional side.

Whenever someone compliments me I am very proud but I will rarely boast about it. Recently someone told me that I paint beautifully. I thanked them feeling good about it but I immediately said how it's not that good because of reasons. Like I am trying to show humility so that I would not get attacked someday and be seen as arrogant. I spend so much time questioning and re-evaluating my decisions despite being a Ni-dom. I can be very cynical and I usually have to think very hard before making a decision, "I have to think about it" is one of my most said sentences, it's my reply to everything.

2s and 6s both put themselves down, but the 2 genuinely knows what they did was worthwhile and is saying it isn't to be humble, and the 6 honestly feels they weren't that impressive. Thinking hard before making a decision is... introversion, and possibly Ni (how is this going to play out in the future? is it going to take me closer to the end result I want or distract me from it? That takes time).

What you see as 6 might be general anxiety, to be honest. 2s are very anxious deep down, they just don't like people to see it because it doesn't fit the image they want to present of themselves. Being anxious about making a fool of yourself is human nature, not necessarily evidence for 6. Feeling overwhelmed by lots of attention and the decisions that come from that could just be introversion as well. BTW, this:

"When I meet someone new I first have to analyze them and see if they fit into a mold of a person I want in my life and to see what are their intentions. My 2 friends are not like that, even the introverted ones are so open to meeting new people."

... is being a Ni-dom. I am guessing your friends aren't? ;)

My guess is you're a 2w1. You give more convincing evidence for it.