#i had to get this off my brain to focus on something closely related but not quite the same

[sleepy-aletheas]

Just a little fun thought my brain keeps tossing to the forefront since Simulanka, but I think it would be pretty neat if 'Narration Footnotes' explained in common Genshin fashion that the Dragons and Humans coexisted since the start, but because they lived in different Realms, the cropping up of Humans seemed like an invasion and threat to the Dragons, when really the Realms got tampered with to intersect.

And since there are 3 versions of Fate as seen represented by the 3 NPC families, and their different approaches to the dragons, it doesn't have to be totally out of question that there could have been 3 ancient civilizations (be it at the same time, but different place; or one for each previous cycle Teyvat went through), and each handled their Dragon neighbours differently (and that had also different outcomes).

Cappet's family (Red) idolizes courage, and their history is of defeating the Dragon through relentless attack for destroying their windmills and terrorizing them. The Dragon surrendered after not being able to rest.

Boborano's family (Yellow) instead took on the path of wisdom, and they solved their problem by giving the Dragon a riddle (which might have been a lie), that the Dragon answered falsely and had to give up all his riches. (It's also interesting that there was an ancient book given by an old woman on a bridge that depicted the rules of the world written in the original language from its start)

Albizzi's family (Blue) solved it by drinking apple cider from an old woman on a bridge that gave them the ability to grow in size, and even overgrow the dragon. The two heroes (which one was called Alberto...if I squint any harder, I'll give myself a migraine) sat on either side of the scared dragon, and drunkenly tried to explain their problems, accidentally plucking a dragon scale. They left the dragon with what they believed to be a mutual understanding, when it came off as threatening, but oh well.

So this just comes off to me as 3 cycles, 3 tries of making Dragons and Humans solve their problems, but each time something went wrong. Be it because there was only brute force, or there was trickery, or a genuine misunderstanding; there never was an actual conversation or mutual agreement.

Indeed, it's all Unreliable Narration: The Videogame, and no one is safe from that - dragons, humans, celestials, abyssal being. No one knows what is going on, and that's kinda the point of the whole game.

[lightsoutletsgo]

anxiety gremlin — op.81

pairing: oscar piastri x anxious!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of anxiety and generalised anxiety disorder, description of physical symptoms including; nausea, headaches, sweaty hands, stomach pains, brain fog, mental struggles, mentions of panic attacks but reader doesn’t experience one, mentions of food and making food related decisions. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!  hello loves! this one is very personal to me and it was a pretty selfish write tbh... I wasn't sure if I should post it but I decided to do it in the hopes that it brings people some comfort. Oscar's dialogue at the end is a message that I, as the author, want to remind you all. you've got this, even if it doesn't feel like it! happy reading love mimi

Sometimes, it felt as though the world was out to get you. You faced the world and your flight, fight or freeze instincts kicked in. When you woke up, it seemed like it was going to be one of those days. That unexplainable feeling of nausea turning your stomach and an unexplainable headache pulled at the back of your head. Your jaw tensed as the nausea hit you in another wave and you forced yourself to roll over and close your eyes. Maybe if you could get back to sleep you’d wake up feeling better. Your mind however, had other ideas. Instead, deciding to send you down the spiral of impending doom - a lovely gift first thing in the morning. Thoughts whizzed through your head; Why did you feel so nauseous? Why did your head hurt? Had you forgotten something? What were your plans for the day and was that why this horrible feeling was creeping up? You sat up, accepting that you wouldn’t be falling back asleep and decided to get ready for the day. Perhaps a shower would help? The warm water was soothing as it rushed over you and whether it was the heat or the steam or the fact you were doing something to distract yourself, for a moment you felt a little better. Exiting the shower you decided that while the nausea had subsided, it would be a good time to start hydrating and maybe think about eating something. Your phone rang and dragged you from your internal rambling, “Hi baby!” You smiled, despite the fact that your boyfriend couldn’t see you, “Good morning angel,” You could hear Oscar’s dopey lovesick grin through the phone, “how did you sleep?” You set him down on loudspeaker as you got dressed, “I slept okay! How about you?” “I would have slept better if you didn’t keep stealing the blankets…” You gasped, “I do not!” Oscar laughed, “You absolutely do! One night I’m going to record you for evidence.” You giggled, “You do that baby.” Oscar nodded then realised you couldn’t see him, “I’m just calling to find out what you want for breakfast? I figured I’d stop off at that little cafe that you like on my way home.” You gulped, you had no clue what you wanted or how to decide, “I’d love that, thank you handsome!” You thought frantically for a solution, “Uhh you can choose for me! I trust you!” There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Are you sure angel?” “Yup, mhm, so sure!” “O-okay…” After making Oscar promise to drive safely, you hung up. 

You realised that for a moment while talking to Oscar, you hadn’t even thought about feeling anxious but it was as if that realisation had summoned the feeling back. All of a sudden your hands felt shaky and it was hard to focus on anything but the disconcerting feeling in your chest. Sitting down on the couch you did your best to control your breathing. Sometimes you wished that it would just turn into a panic attack and be done with. Anything would be better than this on-off-on-off situation. It was like feeling a sneeze that wouldn’t leave your body. Unsatisfying and unsettling. 

The front door opening made you snap your head up and you realised that subconsciously you had been rubbing your hands on your sweatpants to try and get rid of the clammy feeling. You shook your head and smiled as Oscar walked through the door, you were just a little bit anxious, it was no big deal. 

Oscar beamed at you as he entered the living room. He noticed that you seemed distracted and almost a little shifty. Your eyes kept darting around the room and your hands were absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the hem of your t-shirt - a habit you usually despised because it had the potential to ruin your clothes. He said nothing, just walked through the room to the kitchen and placed down the paper bags filled with breakfast. “You okay there angel?” You nodded at him but it wasn’t enough to reassure him, “Are you sure?” You nodded once more, why now of all times were you feeling sick again? You sat there grinding your teeth together and clenched your jaw, feeling too sick to open your mouth and reply. You wanted to reply, you really did! But your brain had decided that words were a step too far. “Did you do something while I was out, hmm?” Oscar joked but all it did was make you more anxious, ‘was he angry?’, ‘was he going to shout at you?’, ‘breakup with you?’, “Come on troublemaker, you can tell me!-” “Nothing! Nothing happened! Now will you please stop asking.” You snapped, immediately clapping a hand across your mouth in shock before the tears were welling up in your eyes. “Oscar I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry baby I shouldn’t have snapped… Please don’t be angry!” You rambled a million miles an hour as your hands began rubbing and grabbing the material of your sweatpants again, not even realising your breathing had turned heavy and you were sweating. Oscar stood there in shock, he had never seen you like this before, was this because of him? He slowly approached you, not sure of the issue and not sure how to resolve it. “It’s okay angel, it’s okay” He held his hand out to you but you shook your head, talking through a clenched jaw in the hopes it would help the queasy feeling in your stomach, “Hands sweaty.” Oscar nodded, “Okay then, can I sit next to you?” You nodded, he gently took a seat next to you, careful not to jostle or jolt you, “Is this a medical emergency?” You shook your head, “do I need to call an ambulance?” You shook your head once more, feeling like you wanted to cry.

How embarrassing that you were having an episode like this in front of your boyfriend after hiding it so well for so long. And even more embarrassing that you couldn’t tell him what was going on let alone why you felt the way you did, “Is this a panic attack?” You shook your head no. Oscar made a little ‘oh’ and sat quietly next to you, unsure of what to say or do. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to open your mouth, despite how heavy your tongue felt. “I’m just a bit anxious.” “What about?” You shrugged, “Nothing. Everything. Hard to explain.” Oscar smiled at you through your one word answers and short sentences, “Well I can wait, it’s okay.” You nodded, hands starting to tingle with how long you’d been rubbing them against fabric and you winced as a sudden cramping feeling started in your stomach. Oscar seemed to notice your discomfort, “Please let me hold your hand angel, I promise I don’t care if it’s sweaty and you think it’s gross, I just want to help okay?” You nodded, breathing deeply and letting him take your hand in his. 

As soon as your hand was in his, his thumb was rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hand. A soothing motion that you let your eyes focus on. Watching his hands and how they moved, anything to keep your attention off of the anxious feeling. 

As he sat next to you Oscar wondered how he should approach you to talk about this. Clearly there was something you weren’t telling him. He thought he knew what it was and he understood why you hadn’t told him. He knew that people got anxious, hell he was always anxious before a race, but he also knew that for some people it went beyond unsettling feelings. He guessed that that’s what you were dealing with too. He’d seen Logan feeling like this a few times and so he wracked his brain to try and remember what the American had told him was useful. How about distraction? It was worth a shot! “Want to watch a film?” You nodded, eyes still laser focused on Oscar’s hands. “I knew you had a thing for my hands but you are allowed to blink you know.” He joked, cracking the smallest sound of an exhale of laughter from you, that was a start. “What film should we watch, hmm?” He grabbed the remote to start flicking through options, his hand never leaving yours, but aware that there was enough space between you so you didn’t feel smothered. “I think something cute and funny? Yes that’s a goooood plan Oscar.” You gave a weak smile once more as he talked to himself and he smiled at you, “how about Tangled?” You nodded and he selected the film, settling back into the couch, head looking at you once more, “Do you want to cuddle?” You shook your head and he just shrugged, wanting to keep you as comfortable as possible,  “That’s okay, you just let me know when you do, okay?” You nodded and he squeezed your hand to comfort you, “Do you want to sit back on the couch?” Your body was still tightly wound and feeling like a live wire so you shook your head, physically unable to relax. And still all Oscar did was smile at you.

As the film started, you did your best to focus on it, finding yourself unable to stop smiling and releasing some of the tension in your shoulders at various points when your boyfriend spoke the lines along with the characters, with facial expressions. You watched on screen as Rapunzel and Flynn entered the Ugly Duckling Pub and you realised your body finally felt relaxed enough to sit back against the couch. Oscar silently breathed a sigh of relief, all he wanted to do was fix it for you but he knew that he could only do so much. 

By the time the next song had finished, your body was subconsciously leaning against him. Your head rested on his shoulder and he gently tilted his head to rest on top of yours. You gave a little contented sigh. As you sat there, a wave of tiredness hit you, the physical symptoms and mental strain you’d been feeling since you woke up taking its toll. With Oscar’s warm body next to you and the comforting sounds of one of your favourite movies on screen, it wasn’t long before you felt your eyes beginning to slowly close. Oscar looked down at you and saw that your lashes had fluttered shut. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and let his own eyes slip shut. 

When you woke up a couple of hours later, the TV was off and you were laying on the couch with a soft blanket covering you. You sat up and sleepily rubbed your eyes, “Osc?” You heard low music drifting through the door to the kitchen and you could hear Oscar mumbling to himself and humming along, cursing occasionally when pots and pans clanged together. He poked his head out from the kitchen door, “There’s my pretty girl. Good morning angel.” He cooed at you and the way you blinked back at him sleepily. “What time is it?” “It’s lunchtime! I was just reheating breakfast.” You nodded, sitting up and pulling your knees up to your chest as he padded across the room to take a seat at the end of the couch by your feet, “I’m sorry.” Oscar’s eyes searched your face as you looked down at your hands in your lap. Oscar’s hand rested on your knee, “Angel, you never have to apologise for something like that…” He trailed off, hesitant to ask you his next question, “do you want to talk about it?” You inhaled slowly, nodding, “Yeah I think I would.” He gently nudged you with his elbow and you shifted back to let him sit in front of you, both of you sitting cross legged. He held his hands out to you and you took them with a shaky exhale.  

“Umm… I’m not exactly sure how to explain it?” You admitted, your fingers playing with his own in an effort to keep yourself grounded as that familiar feeling of your shoulders tightening and nausea creeping up began to settle in. He followed your gaze, “That’s okay, we have all the time in the world. Explain it however you feel is easiest.” You nodded once more, “So obviously you noticed that I was feeling anxious,” He tilted his head to one side to show you he was listening as you continued, “That’s because I have generalised anxiety disorder. And the thing is… I feel like that most of the time.” You admitted shakily, desperately willing yourself not to cry. If Oscar was surprised or taken aback he didn’t show it, instead just linking your hand with his and squeezing, encouraged you continued, 

“There are good days and there are bad days but I’m always anxious… There’s this constant feeling of underlying panic or anxiety or this sense of impending doom.” You looked up and noticed how Oscar’s eyes searched yours, willing you to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, “I feel nauseous, I feel shaky, my hands get clammy, sometimes it’s like I forget how to breathe, my head and stomach hurt for no reason, my head goes fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on anything but the feeling of how anxious I am…” “Baby…” Oscar breathed, you gave him a watery smile, tears filling your lash line, 

“It makes me irritable, it makes me bitchy, it makes me snap at people I love, it makes me sensitive and emotional, I cry a lot, I cancel plans at the last second, I keep to myself and I build my walls up…” You trailed off, meeting his gaze and noticing that his eyes were filling with tears too, “Sometimes it feels like I’m two people. Me and my anxiety.” You couldn’t help the way the tears fell with a choked sob, “Angel, can I please please give you a hug?” Oscar pleaded, itching to pull you into his arms and comfort you. 

You nodded through your sobs, finally feeling the huge emotional release that had been building since you’d woken up. He reached for you, gently grabbing your arms and pulling you forward onto him. Falling back against the arm of the couch with you against his chest as you both stretched your legs out. He held you for what felt like forever, tightly wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair, gently murmuring to you and kissing your forehead. When your sobs had subsided a little, he wiped your cheeks, “My sweet girl…” He gently pressed kisses across your face, relishing in the way your crying eased and you let out a little sigh after each one, “Thank you so much for telling me angel.” He paused, “Can I ask why you didn’t tell me before?” He asked gently. You sighed, fisting his t-shirt in your hand as you fought the nervous feeling that made your stomach flip. His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion as he felt you tense up in his arms, “I’m not mad at you baby, I just want to know what I can do differently in the future. I’d hate it if you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me for help.” You nodded, nuzzling into his chest, attempting to block out the world and focus on Oscar. Just Oscar. 

“Everyone I’ve told has left…” You mumbled sadly, “Hmmm?” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to scare you out of answering, “I told a few people growing up, uni friends and stuff, and they would always answer with the usual ‘oh yeah I feel anxious too’... Until I explained I had diagnosed anxiety disorder and then,” you sighed, “then they would tell me it was too much for them to deal with, or they would get mad at me for ruining plans, or tell me to just get over it when I tried to talk to them about it.” Oscar’s hold on you tightened a little as he felt a spark of anger burn inside him. How dare they? Anyone could see that you were trying your best, he gave you his full attention as you continued, “I guess all of those things mean that I have a hard time opening up and trusting people with the knowledge of my diagnosis because it’s always backfired… Please don’t be mad at me… I do trust you, I just…” “Hey,” Oscar’s voice was low to ensure he didn’t trigger you, “I’m not mad or disappointed at you baby, I’m frustrated with myself for not noticing sooner.” “I’m pretty good at hiding it,” you admitted, the two of you led there in silence for a moment before Oscar spoke again, “Well I’m beyond proud of you. For dealing with it everyday and for opening up to me.” You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, “Thank you for listening.” He smiled back down at you, “Of course.” 

You summoned up the courage to ask him the question that had been on your mind for a little while, “H-how did you know how to help?” Oscar breathed deeply for a second, “There’s someone on the grid who uhhh, struggles with the same thing. They’ve opened up to me and explained what helps them so I figured I’d try?” You pushed yourself up to look at him in surprise, “Someone on the grid?” Oscar nodded, “I won’t say who, because it’s their thing to disclose and explain,” You nodded, “Of course!” “But they’re doing their best to work on things and ask for help and they’ve been doing really well.” Oscar made a mental note to ask Logan if he would consider talking to you. “Well, Tangled was a great choice!” You giggled as Oscar nuzzled his nose into your neck, “Yeah? I wanted to pick something that wouldn’t make you feel worse.” You couldn’t help the way you threw your arms around him and cuddled into him, so thankful for him and the thought and care he gave to you. “I love you.” It was muffled against his chest but he knew what you wanted to say and so with a chuckle he kissed the top of your head, “I love you too, angel.”

You stayed there for a moment before he was gently pushing you to sit up so he could look into your eyes, “I want to say something.” He hesitated and you nodded at him to continue. He gently held your chin with one hand, keeping you looking at him as his other hand found yours in your lap, linking his fingers with yours and squeezing, despite the way your hands were starting to get a little clammy again, “You may have anxiety disorder but it’s not who you are, baby.” Your eyes widened, he continued, “You are not your diagnosis. There is so much more to you than that. You are kind and caring, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re creative.” Your heart melted at how passionately he was speaking. “You’re loved and valued by me and so many others, angel… I love you, the anxiety gremlin that comes with you and all.” You giggled at how he referred to it, “Anxiety gremlin… I like it!” He smiled, kissing your nose, you scrunched it up and he kept talking, “I know I can’t fix it and make it go away, believe me baby I wish that I could. But I promise that I’ll be here through all the bad days and the good days. I’ll do everything I can to make it easier and more bearable for you.”

You couldn’t help the way you started crying again, happy tears this time, Oscar’s thumb gently wiping them away, “So when you’re feeling up to it, we’re gonna sit down and talk about how I can help. What I can do when you’re having a bad day, the things we can do together, how you like to be distracted, how I can help when we’re out in public, maybe a codeword?-” You giggled as he started speaking faster and faster, you stopped his rambling with a soft kiss, pressing your lips to his, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek, “That sounds perfect baby, thank you.” Oscar kissed you once more, pulling you into him, “You just let me know when you’re ready.” You nodded, “I will, I promise.” “Good! But for now, we still need to eat our breakfast!”

[haliteatiger]

Happy Werewolf Wednesday, ya'll! We're serving up a big pot of tea tonight so get those cups ready!

Special thanks to Blackbackedjackal and King for their help in putting this together, editing, and especially to Jackal for being so supportive and encouraging. I'm very much not normally the type to do call-out posts, but people need to be aware of Dogblud, as she has hurt, not only myself, but quite a few others as well, and seems to have somehow gotten away with behaving like this for 20-odd years. I'm of the mind she shouldn't be allowed to do so any more, hence this post.

TL;DR - Beware of Dogblud, aka Ashryn, aka DogofBlud, aka ThatDogMagic. Very, very long post under the cut.

With everything happening with DogBlud and Blackbackedjackal's studio, I felt emboldened to come forward with my own experiences with her. This is something I've been carrying around since it happened roughly 2 years ago. It was one of the main reasons that put me off drawing werewolves, my own characters, or engaging any more in the fandom. I've hinted at it a few times but I've never had the energy to come forward and deal with the fall out. I wanted to move on with the rest of my life because IRL was more important than online drama. And I knew her behavior would come back to bite her sooner or later, regardless of what I did. 

It's been very validating to see that I was right.

It was around the time that Blud and I became friends that I was feeling a bit burnt out on werewolves. I'd been trying to pull together my own werewolf-related project for something close to 12 years. The past 4 years had also been pretty draining on me creatively and socially, as it had for a lot of artists with regards to the pandemic. I also had some IRL things I was dealing with: mainly with my marriage and transitioning between medications to manage my anxiety + bipolar.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight to screenshot everything at the time. I do have logs from back when we roleplayed together. There are several conversations in them but because they were saved as text documents, they're pretty dubious in terms of solid evidence. 

It would have been better if I had taken screenshots as it was happening, rather than just saving the logs. With what I *do* have, however, I feel as though it may be enough to make the point that I'm trying to make, and to exhibit how horrible things got.

I'll provide some context.

I had talked with Blud on and off over the years, and we had always gotten along. We had a lot in common and after we had started talking more, our friendship eventually grew into a collaborative project. We were going to combine our stories and write a comic based on it. We had a lot of discussions on how Blud was reticent to do this in the beginning and how she wanted a contract to be made up so that in the event that something *did* happen, we could both walk away feeling like it was handled fairly.

Honestly, I should have listened to the first alarm that went off in my brain, when, in an act of ominous foreboding she said something along the lines of don't be so sure, it could happen. It was in response to me being like "we're getting along so well and share so much of a bond right now. I can't fathom that being a problem!" 

The contract never materialized. It was something we had decided to do *after* we had put together something of a prototype project to see how well we worked together. It made complete sense to me at the time as we were both eager to focus on the fun parts of writing and drawing together.

It was decided that I would be the lead artist (doing coloring and final lines) while Blud would do everything else (which was inking, layouts, and the majority of the writing). The both of us felt that she had more experience in those areas. I also believed that she had a better knack for it as well. I had felt that she had a better understanding of story structure than myself. And I thought that Blud had felt the same way about my art. That I had the experience to take point on that. 

Since I had collaborated with other artists and writers before, I attempted to approach the project with the same sort of professionalism I always do. Especially the projects that I genuinely thought stood a chance of being published in the future. We had started out trying to get a feel for each other's flows and rhythms. I had expected Blud to try and meet me in the middle of where our processes would potentially differ from one another, so that we could develop a fairly smooth workflow.

I had also expected, according to our discussions on the matter, that we would value each other's opinions on things and take them into consideration. We had such good synchronicity already.

In the beginning, there wasn't any unusual behavior that caught my attention. Blud was a bit uncomfortable with trying out new things but I did my best to accommodate her so that our project could move forward without too much turbulence. She had also mentioned to me before that she was autistic, and since my husband is also autistic, I knew how difficult it could be when it came to adapting to new routines. But when it was time for her to deliver the first set of layouts, it wasn't at all what I expected.

What I had expected was something with margins, clearly marked boxes, and figures that I could do rough lines over. I also expected notes that confirmed what we had discussed earlier about the project; that way I knew what she wanted or if there would be any changes. She took offense to this, feeling like I was violating our agreement. Though Blud did try to give me space with regards to the actual art, and while she would offer criticisms here and there, I trusted her opinion as an artist and as a friend. But apparently that didn't go both ways. In fact, Blud seemed to be offended that I expected more from her.

Blud agreed to concede. She suddenly seemed fine with the changes that I had asked for after seeing the layouts. I guess she was feeling overstimulated by the change and I might have been applying too much of a critical tone to her responses to begin with. I have had to deal with rejection sensitivity throughout my life and it's certainly prompted me to approach what people say to me online with a bit of scrutiny (sometimes too much).

And while I was mildly annoyed, although admittedly I was more concerned with Blud's overall reaction to my asking for clarification about several things in the layouts, I let it go. But it seemed like there was a problem. The majority of my ideas were either rejected or outright overridden with Blud convincing me that my faulty memory had made me unable to remember what we had agreed upon. Or that I might have been misremembering in my own favor.

There was one time where we were discussing a monster's design. Blud had already decided to settle on one design that she had come up with, even as I continued to offer other suggestions. The story was to take place in my setting, so I was under the impression that I got to decide what kind of creatures should populate it. The conversation ended somewhat ambiguously. I had assumed that we'd come to a solid conclusion later. 

I came back the next day and it turned out that we were using her design because that was what we had decided on. "Don't you remember? You really need to do something about that faulty memory of yours, Tek. I can't be doing this for you all the time."

At which point, Blud would go back and meticulously scour the conversation until she managed to find a set of lines that would make it seem as though I had 100% agreed. Even when I tried to explain that I had meant something else, she took it as an affront on her inability to understand nuances due to her autism.

I admit that my memory isn't that greatest at times, but I've never had anyone complain about it before. And none of my friends have ever minded providing reminders to me if I did misremember something incorrectly. We all forget stuff at times, right? It's *still* something that I'm self-conscious about because (like a lot of people with ADHD) my memory seems selective at times. This was, apparently, a problem that I needed to manage. 

And even as I'm remembering these incidents to the best of my ability, I've already spent so much time recounting all of this to friends. I feel confident in my recollection. There are some details that may overlap or become entwined with other things, but it all basically tells the same story. Especially in conjunction with what's been said by others. You're free to take it as hearsay since I do not have screenshots to back this up.

I will mention (since I've been told it's something that Blud has taken particular interest in) that at one point, I did have a crush on her. I was having some problems IRL, and it was nice to have someone whom I felt actually understood me. I also felt like I saw a lot of myself in her. I think that, at one point, I did describe her as the kind of "girlfriend" I would want. Blud seemed to indicate the feeling was mutual.

Between our collaborative partnership and all of the details we shared about our lives, it did feel like an intimate relationship at times. I had no intentions of pursuing it. We were not compatible in our romantic and sexual identities, and I had no intention of leaving my current partner for her.

I had begun to notice red flags, even if I wasn't ready to accept them yet.

I've had experience with abusive relationships in the past but they were in person, and not online. I knew what to look out for and yet I was being willfully ignorant about our friendship. I wanted to give Blud the benefit of the doubt. I wanted the project to work *so* badly that I was willing to work with her increasing demands as the months went by.

I had no idea that those demands would change into, quite literal, temper tantrums. It would then trigger my fawning response which was due to an abusive family situation that I had dealt with before I moved to Canada. The tactic was this: concede to someone until there was a time that they either understood reason or I had the chance to use it against them if necessary.

I started to take screenshots. I wish that I had taken a lot more of them so that everyone could get a better idea of what was happening. I did go back and manage to record the majority of the first outburst. It was the first inkling I had that Blud wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. I knew that that would be one of the first conversations that she would promptly delete. And consequently, I was right.

This assortment of screenshots will exhibit the first serious confrontation that Blud had with me. I am absolutely *not* proud of how I handled this. I was literally panicking at the time and doing whatever I could to get her to calm down. Because I have a temper that can look similar to this in person, I knew that I had to wait until the post-tantrum clarity would hit Blud. I tried my best to not lose my own temper in turn but looking back, I feel that I came off as sounding too timid.

I didn't want to ruin this project.

I wanted to make a comic with an individual that I admired and respected as a fellow artist. And, with me not knowing how to respond, my main priority was to not make things any worse than they already were.

Below is the conversation in its entirety:

I had taken this screenshot on my phone after I had stepped away to compose myself. Blud had handled the confrontation and criticism with a reasonable amount of apprehension. But what had not occurred to me was that I could have said something that would remind her of past experiences with a roleplaying group.

It was something that had evidently scarred Blud for life.

I took away the wrong things from what she had told me, choosing to focus on the aspects of the "betrayal" that had appeared to bother her the most. And in hindsight, I did not see the correlation. I was genuinely apologetic that I had hurt her feelings.

But I *will* critique Blud for her poor handling of the situation. Whether or not I had hurt her feelings, no one is entitled to act like this or claim that this is what attempting to resolve a problem should look like.

I wasn't sure on how to initially respond to Blud. It had been ages since I'd had to deal with someone flying off the handle like that.

The following screenshots are where the conversation picked up, after she had already deleted the above message:

We had weathered the "storm" and after Blud calmed down, she was ready to communicate. There was a part of me that was genuinely sincere when I apologized to her. I did mean it when I said that I had no intentions of hurting her and that I hadn't considered how my statement would sound to her.

I had hoped that this had been a stress response due to factors outside of our collaboration. And especially when I took into account how she had interacted with me in the past. I knew that Blud had a lot going on IRL, and that she had already put a considerable amount of energy into this project.

I had taken her meltdown more personally than she could perceive that I would, because this was something that was acceptable to her. She had a "condition" that would absolve her of these abhorrent meltdowns and I needed to get used to them if we were going to continue working on that project together.

I was shaking the entire time we were typing in the chat.

I was sincere in my responses. I really did want to work things out with Blud and give her the benefit of the doubt. I could have been taking the things that she said too personally or maybe I had been reading too much into the situation. Was there a chance that I could have been misreading her outburst? I tried my best to keep an open mind though I was still somewhat baffled by the fact that she would have meltdowns as often as she did.

I confided in my husband and some other friends about the situation. They were also bewildered by Blud's actions.

By this point, I was struggling with the reality that this collaboration was most likely *not* going to work out but I still wanted to try. I still cared about Blud. We would still hang out together and talk about things like music, our characters, or our stories.

While I did have the foresight to go back and screenshot this section, I wasn't fast enough to get screenshots of everything else that I will be going over. Blud *did* admit to going back and deleting certain exchanges due to a mixture of shame; not wanting to look at them when she would scroll through our conversations. 

In retrospect, it was very telling.

And even after that meltdown, I still enjoyed the friendship that I had with her. I kept my guard up but I was willing to make compromises on her behalf if it resulted in better communication between the two of us. Blud made me promise to immediately tell her if I had a problem with something. I also agreed to keep notes of our conversations.

It worked for the most part.

In the end though, it became apparent that Blud wasn't willing to do the same for me (even after we had an extended conversation about it). I then realized that I had been tasked with basically *managing* her autism for her. I was already busy with my supposedly "bad memory" at the time; and Blud was more than ready to scroll back up through our conversations to cherry-pick a line or two of text to remind me of what was said earlier.

Because, for her, circumstances couldn't ever change. If they did, it would mean that Blud had lost control of the situation and that she was in the wrong. She could *not* be in the wrong. 

And if she was in the wrong? It would take solid evidence, three witnesses, and a court of law to prove it.

She had two other major meltdowns after this. I managed to step away from communicating with her through one of them and I don't remember the other meltdown lasting very long. She immediately deleted the texts of both of those instances before I could take screenshots of them.

It seemed like I could do nothing right when it came to Blud, no matter the lengths I would go to accommodate her. I knew that it was a common tactic used by abusers. I finally accepted that our partnership wasn't going to work out and I began thinking about an exit strategy. The final straw was when she began to expect me to be at her beck and call.

I had promised that I would be there for her, within reason, and I was willing to offer reassurances whenever she would ask me for them. The promise had been made back when we had first started to talk to one another with more frequency, before Blud had shown me her true colors. I would end up completely underestimating just how badly she would need reassurance.

To be frank, I underestimated a lot about Blud in the beginning.

I would end up mentioning that I enjoyed my space in several different conversations with her. That there was a chance that I might be offline for several days so I could take care of things IRL and recharge my social batteries. I'm somewhat of a recluse. And an adult who enjoys things that aren't online.

She said that it was fine.

I became incredibly anxious when I would talk to Blud, especially after her somewhat abrupt change in personality.

I then attempted to put my foot down about boundaries and this is what she had to say:

I decided to walk away for a bit and I came back after I had had some time to think things over. This wasn't healthy for either of us. I wrote a couple of sentences to say goodbye to Blud before I blocked her. I knew that my actions would probably infuriate her. She had told me in the past that she *hated* not being able to have the final word... which she was able to do through email:

“And I'm not letting you pretend you have control over the situation, or the high ground. You distinctly have neither. But since you're determined to stick to your 'principles' on this, I've decided to make it easier for you.”

She thought that she was absolved of all sins just because I had said that I would stand by her at her worst. And at the time that I said that, I had no idea that her worst would be her trying everything possible to protect her boundaries while stomping all over mine. It didn't matter what she said or how often she would apologize when I would confront her. She kept doing it.

I admit that I wasn't perfect in this situation either.

There were times when I was condescending, critical, or downright mean when I talked to Blud because that was the way I had felt when she was talking to me. I soon realized that it didn't matter either way. I could have been using the friendliest tone imaginable and she still would have perceived it as either mocking or dismissive on my end. There were even a few times where I would preface my explanations with an advisory “please know that I am not attacking you and try to read this in an understanding tone,”etc. I would then post an explanation I had spent hours picking at to ensure that there was no way she could misinterpret the intent. Even so, she still read the majority of what I said as criticism and would take it to heart.

I never expected Blud to do something that made her uncomfortable; nor did I expect her to overextend herself when it came to our project. I would go out of my way to make sure everything was fine when we would talk about it. I only expected mutual respect in return.

When we would get into discussions (arguments), she would never attempt to understand my point of view or let me explain myself. It would have made it about me when it should have been about Blud and her needs. She sometimes would agree to come to a compromise about something, but only if I would admit that I was in the wrong.

I know that if Blud was to look at these screenshots, she'd be incredulous that I'm trying to distract from the horrible things that *I* did. And those horrible things that I did? I tried my best to work with her.

It wasn't just her poor teamwork that bothered me. It was her attitude and the lack of respect that she showed me. She would never ask me to clarify something that I said; always assuming that it was a criticism against her. I can only speculate that Blud did not want to hear about how any of this was her fault, like in the email she sent me.

I don't know if I was actually her friend at any point. Friends make efforts to understand one another. Ideally, they’d want their friendships to continue, and they would want everyone to be getting along and having fun. She seemed to actively defy that.

I would argue that things like this don't just happen in a vacuum. There's almost always a reason for such things, but it's honestly a mystery to me as to where this vitriol comes from. I don't know why Blud sees monsters in every word, especially if they come from a  "friend". 

I've seen her viscously mock herself during meltdowns; it seems like she hates herself and expects everyone else to hate her too. I think that she wants it to be the truth, so that it validates the feelings she has about herself. The behavior patterns that I'd been exposed to are consistent with the idea that Blud is seeking confirmation about the personal assumptions she has about herself. It's what makes her so volatile to those around her. Yet, she refuses to break the cycle.

I hope that she can make that choice in the future but at this point, I'm not holding my breath.

[mo0nfairy]

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

[irisintheafterglow]

Hellooo 🫠

You know when amanai is having a moment in the aquarium watching the fish? Maybe reader had wandered off from gojo and sugu and was having a moment to herself in like, a jellyfish area? And sugu notices she's gone and goes to find her?

He would be so romantic 🥲

respectfully, your honor, he is simply babygirl

When he noticed you were missing from the group, it didn't take much effort to summon a weak Curse and send it to find you. He knew you could handle yourself, but he also didn't want another situation where one of your group gets kidnapped. After the Curse reports back of your whereabouts, he slips into the crowds as easily as a shadow.

“There you are. I was beginning to think a shark ate you.”

“You’re not listening very well if you still associate sharks with attacking people,” you reply, looking at him from the corner of your eye in the dim light of the gallery. He smiles softly at your quick remark and it makes your stomach do a somersault. The chill of the air conditioned hall sends goosebumps over your skin and you refocus on the exhibit in front of you, sea nettles with their tentacles elegantly swirling as they swim about mindlessly. To tell the truth, you’d wandered off from the rest of the group after you heard something about an opportunity to feed the rays in a touchpool. But, you’d become lost somewhere between the second floor bathrooms and the dancing otter mascot. You ended up in the deep sea gallery, a darkly lit series of exhibits showcasing all sorts of creatures found in deathly cold waters. “How are Riko and Satoru doing?”

“They’re great. Last I checked, they were headed to harass the penguins.” He closes the distance until his arm is pressed against yours, the warmth of his bicep helping against the frigid temperature. As you move on to the next exhibit, his eyes track the movement of the dancing jellies in awe. “What are these guys?”

“Moon jellies," you inform him, leaning into his touch when his lips meet the side of your head. It's intimate and it's quiet, a situation that didn't come easily for Jujutsu sorcerers. His pointer finger traces a heart on the cold perspiration of the tank and you draw a happy face next to it to match.

"They're like you." Your eyebrow quirks at the odd comparison.

"Slimy and small?"

"Beautiful, I mean," he clarifies, flicking your forehead lightly with his fingers. "I would sit with you and watch them for hours if I could."

"Did you know jellies don’t have a brain?”

“Must be related to Satoru,” he murmurs and you stifle a laugh into your fist, knocking him with your elbow. He bumps you with his shoulder in return, letting you pull him even closer by resting your hand on his arm. “You doing okay?”

“I’m better now. It just got a little loud in the main hall where we saw the whale shark,” you admit, admiring the graceful movements of the jelly to keep your focus away from how handsome Suguru looked in the moody lights. “I’ll be ready to get back with everyone else soon, I promise.”

“Take your time. I'll wait for you.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[thoughtsforsoob]

you’re frustrated because you’re struggling to learn Korean - txt

a/n: hello! I thought this post would be a little relatable bc I’m struggling rn with Japanese (but not bc of a man 😋). So much kanji to remember and so many words that they just all mush together. I love the language but it is testing my patience and my memory rn :( please enjoy this and lemme know if y’all speak other languages :) it’s cool to know im not the only one struggling with a trilingual brain🥰 requests are open as usual (no pics belong to me! Found on Pinterest)

yeonjun

It was actually his idea to teach you Korean, starting with basic stuff such as phrases at the convenience store and at coffee shops. He knew it would help when you had to go out places on your own. You’re on the phone with him after he’s hyped you up and refreshed some phrases for ordering coffee. You finally are up to order and while your pronunciation has been good, you mispronounce a word and your face goes red. You apologize to the cashier who was very understanding and helped you say the word correctly. You paid and thanked them for their kindness. Yeonjun heart could burst at how the cashier was patient with you and how you tried your best and finally said the word right. “Oh my goodness! You did amazing! Next time you’re ordering coffee for the both of us.”

soobin

As the days went by, he could see your passion for learning his language was dwindling. You were struggling with your conjugation skills and he was just trying his best to help you learn and eventually practice. You both are sitting at the kitchen table, with your textbook in front of you (giving flashbacks to elementary math homework). He’s giving you example of conjugations your currently learning and how to used them. It’s starts to all mush up and you can’t figure it out or focus. You start to cry into your hands. He pulls you close to him, “don’t be sad. I promise that you’re gonna learn really soon. I believe in you.” That’s all it took for you to keep trying. He also promised he’d take you for a melona pop if you tried a few more conjugations (I love melona I’m so sorry 🤤…melon and banana are the best flavors not sorry)

beomgyu

homie is so serious and you get mad at him because of that. he’s teaching you silly phrases and on one occasion, he purposely teaches you the wrong phrase. So, you’re out at lunch with his members and you try the phrase on yeonjun and he looks so confused. “Did you just call me dumb?” Your face is furiously red and you run off, crying. Your frustration sets in. Why would be do this to me? He comes after you after giving you some time to cool down. “Baby? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would make you so upset. I promise I won’t do it anymore. We’re gonna get serious I swear.” He lures you out by telling you he’s gonna start teaching you from a really good Tex ok that was recommended to him. He also explains to yeonjun what happened and yeonjun gives him an earful as well, taking you side.

taehyun

he actually is a really good person to help teach you. He has the patience of a saint when teaching you grammar. If you’ve attempted Korean, you know how challenging grammar can be to understand. Let’s say you’re out at a restaurant and try to order your own food..you make a mistake and the waiter is looking at you like huh? You start to feel embarrassed but taehyun explains you’re still learning and has you try it again. When you get it right this time, he smiled and the waited smiled as well. The pride he feels when he can see your improvement is like no other. “You did such a good job, honey. Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after? You deserve a little treat.”

huening kai

I feel like he’d be very empathetic and understanding towards your struggle. He speaks many languages too and understands how frustrating when something isn’t sticking or when you forget words or grammar. For example, you’re at home and you’re both working on vocabulary. you messed up a few words in a row and start to feel discouraged. His best tool to keep you motivated to learn was tell you he was proud of you. He would always encourage you the best he could, “you’re for this bub! I’m so proud of you! I’m gonna keep helping you until you’ve got this :)”

[highwayorgantrade]

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing 

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

 However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks. 

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area. 

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next. 

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind. 

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. 

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath. 

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.” 

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.” 

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed. 

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was. 

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted. 

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime. 

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap. 

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.” 

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.” 

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Save me from her - chapter 1

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You and Tara had been circling around each-other for months now, driving your sister insane. What will it take, for you to finally get together?

a/n: I am planing on making a series out of this, which I haven't got a clue on how long it'll be. I am not a native english speaker, please keep that in mind.

!poorly proof-read!

warnings: amature writing, blood, canon-typical violance, swearing, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, tell me if I left something out please!

“Sooo?” Anika leaned before you on the counter; huge smile plastered on her face. ”How did it go?”

You rolled your eyes and stared at your sister. Her eyes were gleaming with anticipation and curiosity. Even though you loved her she was unbearable when she got like this. You told her so.

“Well, you’ve put up with me for nineteen years, so that’s on you. But seriously tell me everything!”

“Nothing happened!” you chimed as you desperately wanted to change the subject. “It was just a normal study session. We started laying out how the project should look like and things like that.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know how we are related…” she huffed, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. “You’ve been drooling over her for months now! How is it that you didn’t make a move yet?”

“She is scarred, closed off, and has an overprotective sister. And for the record I have made moves. They just… didn’t go as planned” you said and stood up from the counter as you started to make your way to your room to get ready for the day. “Also, drooling is a strong word for how I feel about her.”

Anika raised a brow. “Poor Tara. Mindy told me that they… never mind. It’s not important anyway” she said slowly and taking her coffee mug to her face to take a sip from her drink.

You span around your heels to look at her and stormed to the kitchen’s counter which she was still leaning against. “What did Mind-“ you didn’t finish the sentence as you realized the trap, she laid out in front you, low smile taking over her mimics. You cursed yourself internally for losing your brain whenever her she got on your mind. Which in the last two months was always.

“As I said; drooling” she interrupted then took another sip from her hot drink.

“Out with it. What did that manipulative, smart ass, hot girlfriend of yours say about T.”

She giggled at your behaviour. “I think you meant successful and clever” she was avoiding your question. Oh, how she knew how to get you on your nerves. “The last part I agree with though” she said as her eyes started drifting away, out the window.

“Anika! Focus!”

“Oh, yeah sorry. My mind wandered” her cheeks reddened just the least amount. “About what Mindy said, no way I’m telling you! That would mean I’m abusing her trust. Plus, you know how I hate to gossip around.”

“Sure, you do…” you said knowing very well that her last sentence was a full-blown lie. You rewarded her with your glare that she knew all too well. As soon as she noticed it, she flinched.

“Stop that! It won’t work.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about” you grinned.

“I hate you!”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Anika groaned and tilted her head back. As she looked back down, she caved under your stare and told you what she heard from her girlfriend. After she finished, she added a ‘I promise that’s all I know’ and shunned her head down. With a satisfied smile you patted her shoulder and let her be at the counter.

As you were getting ready for school, a familiar nervous churn got hold of your stomach at the thought of sharing classes with her. What Anika told you was all just circumstantial and didn’t mean much. That girl had you wrapped around her fingers, and she didn’t even know about it. You thought about her sweet smile, her mesmerizing, deep brown eyes her perfect curves. The way she laughed at one of your dumb jokes or the way she smiled back at you across the cafeteria on one of the first days she arrived at Blackmore University. Oh, how you hoped to see that beam of light today too.

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You were deep in conversation with Mindy and Anika about movies when she saw you. Your group was sitting before the university, below the shadow of a small tree. A small breeze blew colourful leaves in the air reminding Tara why she loved Fall so much. As the sun shone through them, it gave you an ethereal glow which made her breath get caught in her throat, your happy-giddy expression making butterflies erupt in her stomach. As she took in your features, her gaze stopped on your lips. Your soft, beautiful, kissable- ‘Snap out of it!’ she thought to herself. As she looked anywhere but you, she realized that she stopped in her track and now Chad was looking curiously at her, waiting on her to catch up.

“What was that all about?” Chad asked with knowing grin on his face as Tara reached him.

“Shut up” she huffed back as they continued their route towards the exit of the building and your table. As they got closer, Tara’s heart started beating faster and faster, her vision tightening down to only you. Your posture, the crinkles in your eyes, your toothy smile. She found everything perfect about you. She was so deep in thought, she couldn’t see a younger boy coming as she bumped into him, breaking her trance. She fell to the ground, hitting the floor. Hard.

As the sounds of her items hitting the floor, reached you, you snapped your head in their direction, noticing her. Then you went red with anger when you heard her pained groan and got up in an instant, marching your way towards the scene.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked before me, I didn’t mean to knock you over…” the boy started rambling her apologies as Tara slowly got up from the ground gathering her stuff slowly.

“There is no problem, really-“ she started but got cut off by a voice, that had her stomach churning in the most unbearable and pleasing ways.

“You bet that there is a problem!” at your raised voice the whole hallway silenced, listening carefully to the show. “You see, Aaron I didn’t care about you embarrassing yourself in high school when you confessed to your elderly arts teacher, but this? This is worse than when you left the classroom crying after she explained a few things to you.”

“Y/N stop” you could hear Chad’s smirk through his firm voice, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t you know not to be entranced with your phone like a big nerd as you walk through a crowded space? Hell, with this attitude, why don’t you march down the street not a care in the world and knock over your idol ‘by accident’, like you did last time? Who was it again? Oh yes; Tom H-“ you couldn’t finish because you felt her fingers gripping into your arms, calming you down. You looked down at her, her bright smile instantly managing to cool you off. For a few moments you just gazed into each other’s eyes, then you heard a small sob and looked up at the boy.

He looked broken, like a glass that was forcefully thrown at the floor, his eyes gleaming with built up sorrow. Before you could say something more, he mumbled a low ‘Sorry’ towards Tara, then quickly walked off, holding his stuff close to his chest.

You were horrified and frozen in place as you watched him go. After a few seconds, the hallway restarted its usual buzzing. This was when you realized, that almost if not the whole school had heard what you were bawling at him. As the noise indoors got back to its normal heights Chad spoke; “Well, that guys life is over.”

“No its not!” you said quickly. “He… That… This is just a small setback for him! He is a… a grown, charismatic, and lovely human, who had made some bad choices” you managed to stutter out. Then you remembered why you started to call him out. “Are you okay T?”

Her cheeks reddened the slightest. She chuckled lightly and smiled at you. “More than okay, thank you.”

“Then this was more than worth it” you gleamed back and chuckled too.

After you helped her get her things from the floor, you escorted her and Chad to your former company. When you reached them, Anika chose to free up a place and sat in Mindy’s lap, making Tara’s smile grow larger. They were so in love it was adorable.

“What were you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Horror movies” you answered with a dead voice before either of them had a chance.

“Don’t say it like that!” Mindy exclaimed, face showing hurt. “Say it like; Horror movies!” The voice she said it on could be explained as if a character from ‘My Little Pony’ would say it. If they would ever say anything even close to it. “Anyways, I’m just curious so sorry if I cross any line here but how the hell did you know all that about him?”

You shrugged as you sat down, Tara sitting next to you. “It’s what I do. I drink and Iknow things.”

“And you quote things” Anika complemented.

“And I quote things” you agreed. “Looking pretty while doing so.”

As the conversation in the group flowed, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Aaron. Just a little; he still hurt Tara, even if accidentally. Your eyes drifted towards her, examining her again. You were looking, really looking, searching her for little signs that could give away her thoughts and feelings. She looked at peace, was your first thought, yet you couldn’t fully agree with yourself. Her eyes darted away to corners, doors, and windows of the school which you sat before, searching for something, anything. Even in this friendly, harmless banter she was on her heels, and this realization made you furious.

You knew about her past as none of them wanted to keep it a secret. When you first heard the story, it made you just as mad as you were now. How does someone get over a betrayal like that? You couldn’t imagine why someone would try to kill their own girlfriend, especially if that girl is Tara. She was the most pure, kind, and loving person you knew. The thought of her getting hurt made you sick to your stomach.

The group conversed for a long time. Being done with school, nobody had somewhere to be, so you enjoyed your time together. You also rejoined them after you were done with sulking in your own anger, and talked passionately and loudly when someone brought up a topic you were heavily interested in. Nobody noticed as time flew by. You only realized how dark it was getting when Tara’s phone rang. She tensed for a moment, only to relax as she read her sister’s name on the display. The younger Carpenter turned away from the group and picked it up. “Hey Sam!” she greeted and stood, so she may get out of hearing distance, not to disturb you from continuing the debate.

Once she did, Mindy spoke again. “So, movie night at theirs” she gestured towards Tara. “Me and Anika will buy snacks, Chad, I’m assigning you to booze duty. Y/n, you escort your girlfriend home, and we’ll all meet there at eight.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, but you all agreed on what she said. As you got up from the benches, you heard the brunette say goodbyes to her sister. “Sam needs to stay in late for her shift. She says she won’t be able to make it at least ‘till ten so she asked me to make dinner. I will need to drop by a store from some ingredients” she looked behind you and around. “Where are the others?”

You turned around just to see Chad disappear at the corner of the street. You crossed your arms and huffed slightly. “Mindy handed out the tasks, so she and my sis will probably make out at mine until they have little-to-no time left. After that they’ll find the nearest store, rob it from snacks and meet as at half nine at yours. Chad’s on his drink tour so it’ll take him a while to make it to yours. But at least he’ll be there on time.”

“That is a… pretty accurate picture you painted” she said, chuckling. “Would you care to join me?”

“With pleasure.”

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“What’s for dinner?” you asked as she took a whole sack of onions of the shelf.

“I’m not answering that!” she said, clearly annoyed as this was the fifth time you asked her this.

“Is it onion soup? I bet its onion soup” you smirked behind her, continuing your assault on her nerves. “Do you know it’s one of my favourite foods?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Stop trying the guess what’s for dinner, I’m not telling you!” she exclaimed, yet she didn’t mean a word she said. You were quite amusing, and your voice was like smooth, alluring jingling to her.

You leaned next to her ear and murmured “Never” before leaning back and continued harassing her, but Tara heard none of it. Your whisper in her ear froze her and had a pleasurable buzz go of in her head. She broke her trance quickly, thanking the gods you didn’t notice what you did to her.

“Oh! Maybe it’s fried onions! That would be a great idea too! Tara you are a genius!” you leaned down again and kissed her cheek, which made her freeze. Again. As she regained control over herself, she quickly put a few other products in her basket and made her way to the cash desk.

“Wait no. I have it! It must be onion pie!”

“Onion what?” Tara asked back. Never in her life has she heard about ‘onion pie’. The cashier made a strange look at you, clearly being at a loss with your words too, as she scanned all the items.

“Onion pie! Don’t tell me you don’t know what it is!”

“No, I don’t” she said sheepishly while paying for everything.

“You need to try it” you said, emphasizing every word. “I swear it’s one of the most delicious things I have ever had in my mouth. Besides onion soup.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll make you one!” you proposed as you made your way out the shop, and slowly proceeded towards Tara’s apartment through the narrow alley of the shop. Small drops of rain started pouring from the sky. “What do you say? Friday evening you drop by me, we watch something you want, and then you try it out. I got the exact recipe from nan, yet I’ve never made it as good as hers so don’t expect no miracle, but I think it’ll still be great!”

“I would love to” Tara started, a grin making its way on her face “but unfortunately my Friday is taken…”

“What have you planned?”

“Movie night with you and our friends in two hours!”

“Oh, yeah right…” you said. “What about tomorrow evening?”

“Sounds-“ she got cut off by a stranger almost knocking her up. You managed to catch her before she would hit the ground. “Ouch!”

“Watch where you go bitch!” he snapped at Tara as he tried to walk away, but you grabbed his shoulder and span him around. “What did you just say?” his breath stank of alcohol and smoke. You knew he was wasted as hell, but you didn’t care. All you could see was red.

“I said your whore shou-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as you shoved him into the wall left to you, raising your arm to hit him before he could get up, but he was faster than you anticipated. The man launched himself against your chest, knocking you to the ground, straddling you between his legs. Then he started to hit you wherever he could while you effortlessly tried to block his punches. The rain falling in your eyes didn’t help you either. You groaned in pain and after a while, you got a hold of his waist and with the help of your leg you managed to throw him over you.

You quickly got up, to face him once again, but Tara was quicker, kicking him in the chest before he could get up. She moved back and you placed your hand on her shoulder but didn’t take your eyes off drunkard. He didn’t take long to get up, standing before you with a wide, aggressive stance. He reached behind his back and took out a pocketknife. Tara twitched under your hand, and immediately stepped back. “Come here perra!”

Adrenaline coursed through you as you changed your stance and stood sideways towards him, the instructions of your martial arts coach flowing through your mind. Block with the back of your arm, if necessary, grab, pull, strike, repeat. Hopefully without the repeat part, you added.

He rushed towards you, swiping towards you with his knife. You dodged his first swipe left then the one to the right, and his attempted stab. Then you grabbed him by his wrist with lightning-fast movement and pulled him, sending him of next to you. As his body was leaving yours, you hit the man’s armed hand, hard. Not hard enough though, as his wet hand slipped out of your grip, and he didn’t let go of the weapon.

He launched himself at you again, this time making faster cuts. ‘Shit’ you thought as you saw one coming that you couldn’t dodge. You raised your arm so it would hit the back of your arm. You hissed from the impact. The surprise of hitting you made him vulnerable, so you grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm whilst repeating your former actions, this time disarming him in the process. As he turned around, you punched him in the stomach with your unhurt hand, and kicked his feet from under him, making him fall once again. His scalp hit the ground and knocked him out.

Your blood merged with the water on your hand and started dripping off it. You looked down at the wound; it wasn’t deep or wide which was the cause of your bones stopping the attack. “Jesus y/n!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed the cut. “Let’s get you to the apartment. I can get it clean there and then we’ll bandage it up.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were quick to get there, not wanting many people to see you. Tara took the groceries of the ground and started speed walking beside you, her eyes full of worry and fear. Her heart was thrumming in her throat at the thought of losing you. She couldn’t think straight as her mind dictated only one word: faster, faster, faster. Her speed-walking went to jogging, then to running. Your sight was blurry, and your head, ribs and arms hurt but you were able to keep up with her. You blessed your father for forcing you to take those taekwondo lessons, and your coach for not kicking you out even after multiple accidents.

For you had some over the many years you had been attending the classes for your safety. Once or twice during parring you couldn’t hold back against your already defeated opponent, or when Coach Jaehyun, or as you liked to call him; Hun’, called you out to demonstrate a move, you hurt him. You either kicked too hard or made an unpredictable move which had him surprised. None of these mattered as for some reason, he thought highly of you and went out of his way to protect and take care of you. He was one of your closest friends. When you started your training, it was by the side of his father, a strong, kind, and honourable man. After his untimely passing, his son took his mantle as the new coach of the group, and quickly started to bond with you, one of his most successful students.

As you stumbled up the stairs of the building, you cursed, for Tara and Sam of course lived on the fourth level. You hated stairs. They were your nemesis, and never once could you beat them without them wearing you out before. Tara struggled for a moment with her keys, then swung the door wide open. “Bathroom” she ordered gesturing towards it with her hand.

Tara stormed towards the kitchen, searching the drawers for bandages and disinfectant. After she got all, she needed, she rushed after you. Her breath got stuck for a moment in her throat when she reached the bathroom. You took off your shirt, so she could see your bruises. You had them all over your body, as well as a black left eye and an open right arm. Somehow even now, you looked celestial.

She approached you as you were cooling your eye with cold running water and put a hand on you as to sign her presence. “Can I have a look at your arm?” she asked softly. Far softer than she usually was.

Rather than answering her, you stretched your arm out for her to look at the wound. She took it and started working on it gently. Every touch on your skin sent the feel of electricity running through you, making your heartbeat as fast as if you were running a marathon. As she was cleaning the cut you wondered for a second how she knew how to do this. Then you mentally facepalmed yourself. Of course, she knew how to deal with a wound. She would know better than anyone else.

Her heart was beating fast too, which she wished you didn’t notice. When she was done with cleaning, she stitched it up delicately and took the bandages that had been sat down beside her. While covering it, she trailed her eyes over your body. Beside the bruises, it was flawless and gorgeous. Her eyes wondered some more when she noticed a healed and old in wound on your left side. It was long, trailing from the height of your belly button right up, until it reached your armpits. She wondered, what could’ve happened and before she could stop herself, she asked.

You stiffened in her hold closing your eyes for a few moments. “I’d rather not talk about it” you said with a mournful voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No need to be. Really” you said reassuringly.

“Okay…”

Once she finished, she threw the garbage in the trash, then helped you up and out of the bathroom. “Thanks for defending me back there by the way.”

“Thanks for patching me up doc T” you smiled down at her.

“I’ll give you something cold for your eyes and warm for your bruises” she said after setting you down on the couch.

“Wait, warm?” you sat up so she could see the confusion in your eyes.

“Yes” she said smiling. “It helps the trapped blood escape when a bruise already formed, from the area, making it less visible and speeding up the healing. After that you can apply something cold if you want to.”

“I did not know that” you mumbled and dropped back into the couch.

A few minutes later she was back with warmed salt in pouches and beans from the freezer. “Here you go” she uttered and sat down next to you. She gently placed the pouches on the right places and handed you the beans. You sighed in relief when you put it on your eye, muttering a quiet ‘Thank you’ whilst watching her delicately work with your bruises. It felt weird, your eyes felt cold, whilst other parts of your body were warm. Especially your hips, where she kept one of her hands. The heat was radiating through your whole body at the realisation.

You just noticed how close you two were, and it made you forget how to breath. She looked down at you, her pupils widening just the slightest. You could feel her breath on your face, getting faster just a little. She was leaning closer now, her breath shuddering above your face. Her eyes snapped down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. Your beautiful, captivating, deep eyes. She found herself entrapped in them. Your eyes snapped to her lips too, seeing how red they were. Alluring like every of her body parts, and kissable. Oh, how kissable they looked-

You could hear the door opening.

She jolted back, as you also tried, only now remembering that your head was already on the couch. You finally remembered how to breath. Tara felt her cheeks redden and stood up abruptly.

“We’re HERE!” Mindy screeched as they all got in. Why wouldn’t they be punctual the one time they shouldn’t be?

“Hey” you greeted them back, sitting up on the couch, revealing your face.

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Anika’s eyes widened for a moment, then she rolled her eyes, Chad laughed. Your sister marched towards you, clearly irritated. “What did you do this time?”

“I swear it wasn’t my fault!” you started to defend.

“It kind of was” Tara interrupted, smiling.

“Of course, it was, now tell me what happened!” Anika demanded.

So you did. You told the story, of how you heroically fought of three people who were all trying to mug Tara, whilst also saving an elderly lady from the truck that was about to hit her. Whilst your story went on, you got up from the couch and started playing the scene like it really happened. You didn’t seem to be distracted by the fact that your upper body was only covered by a sports bra. They all carefully listened to the made-up story, as they were used to them by this point. “So there I was, grandma in one hand, her groceries in the other, facing off this huge monstrosity of a man. He was about seven feet tall and had the sharpest machete in hand that I’ve ever seen. Then, he lunged at me” you lunged your arm forward as if holding something at Anika’s face. She dropped her jaw, playing along.

“Were you killed?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly curious.

“Sadly, yes” you said, closing your eyes. Then you snapped them open and dramatically said; “But I lived!”

“When exactly did you lose your mind?” Chad asked, before Anika could shut her up.

You stared away into nothing and murmured low, as if deep in thought. “Three months ago. I woke up one day married to a pineapple. An ugly pineapple” you sighed like a lovestruck fool. “But I loved her.”

“That’s enough” Tara cut in, still smiling like an idiot. “I’ll tell you how it really went so I may start cooking.”

“But I wanted to hear how she fought of that giant!” Mindy said pleading with her tone and with her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you but just this once!” you raised your voice and continued the story. Tara rolled her eyes, gave you one last smile then went away into the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

[4suitedplayingcard]

Various Punch Out Headcanons I have that I felt the need to share or else my brain would explode :p

All of the boxers (who didn't originally live in New York) pretty much just live in hell NY now cuz of their boxing career. They do visit their families during vacation and all that, but for the most part, they just stay in New York.

Piston Hondo finds it hard to make friends with people who are around the same age as him and younger because he finds them harder to understand/relate to (and also a bit more judgemental), so he mostly hangs out w/ people who are much older than him, with the only exception being Great Tiger.

King Hippo thinks that most beds are uncomfortable and will sleep pretty much anywhere except on a bed. On the floor, the couch, a pile of leaves, a comically small pillow, etc etc.

Aran Ryan has a bad habit of eating non edible objects out of intrusive thinking (and also spite sometimes), he's eaten things ranging from twigs to hand sanitizer to cigarette butts and has been sent to the hospital a couple of times because of it.

Don Flamenco is obsessed with skincare, mostly due to the fact that he looks like a middle aged man with his toupee off. The second he gets his paycheck, he immediately spends most of it on various scrubs and lotions. He even almost went bankrupt on numerous occasions because of it

Bear Hugger had been friends with Ms. Bear even since he was 12 years old. He found her all alone in the forest on a snowy day when she was a baby and his parents agreed to keep her until they find her a new home (which obviously didn't work out)

Super Macho Man is a nepo baby. His mother was a movie actor while his father was also a heavyweight boxer, which caused him to get a lot of attention from not only his peers at school, but also media outlets too.

Glass Joe has terrible eyesight and mostly uses contact lenses wherever he goes, though he does occasionally wear glasses sometimes (mostly at home or whenever he's run out of contacts).

Bald Bull is VERY reluctant to touch, even the slightest little bump in can cause him to flip out. He only makes this exception to people who are super close to him, but even then, he doesn't want any physical contact for too long or he’ll start to lose it.

Even though Von Kaiser wasn't actually apart of a war, he was enrolled in a boot camp for a few years of his life. It was hell and he still has nightmares about it to this day…

No matter how much sleep he gets, Great Tiger usually ends up sleepy at some point during the day. He's tried every to get him to sleep better, drinking warm milk, staying away from electronics an hour before bed, taking melatonin, but he still ends up tired in the middle of the day sometimes and it drives him mad.

Y'know those scientist that you see in Soda Popinski’s title defense slideshow? Well those are kind of his dads. He was left on the doorsteps of a lab when he was a baby, and all of the people in the facility have been taking care of him ever since.

Disco Kid has a brother a few months younger than him who used to be the boxer known as Kid Quick. They both started Boxing at around 18, but Kid Quick ended up quitting early in his career to focus on something more mundane. (Yea ik I made a lil shitpost drawing a few weeks ago about Kid Quick being pre-transition Disco Kid but shhhh-)

Mr. Sandman is the only boxer in the entire organization that's not only married, but also has a kid. He has a wife named Alena and a daughter named Chelsea, they all live with Sandman in NYC. :)

[scentedpepper]

Hiiii I really liked ur recent lip fic so I had a request if it interests u :) it's probably pretty basic actually

Lip x male reader where reader is basically struggling to find a decent job because they're falling behind on bills so they become over stressed/overwork by their current shit job. This being something Lip can relate to he tries to comfort them/tries to get them to relax. (Totally not self reflecting haha 🧍🏻)

Fish.

LIP GALLAGHER X MALE READER

Summary: Lip knows when you're right and when you're wrong.

Content Warnings: None

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Hey Anon 😼

Totally doable request

Gets a little angsty there for a sec cus I can't not put angst in my fics but yk

This has got to be the mushyest thing on my page so hopefully it's alright (^-^;

Allusiveness per usual..

The self projection is so real..

I'm glad you liked my last fic and I hope you find something that works for you soon tho!!

---------------------------------------------------

Fish.

That's the smell that immediately hits Lip upon entrance into the little studio apartment you call home.

Your cat stares at him, big eyed and blinking slowly from the peeled leather sofa with a blanket draped over it to hide the tweaks and imperfections of a Craigslist bought Lazy Boy.

If the boy was none the wiser, he'd assumed your place had been ransacked, burglarized and left with nothing but items not worth taking a second glance at. Though, it wouldn't be a half bad guess given that your front door was left open and there were clothes and trash strewn about the creaky floors, some of your furniture knocked out of place or even right on its side.

But he could hear you shuffling around the bathroom, knocking something over, the clatter of it to the floor, the less than enthusiastic curse from you and an internal groan that sounded like a hog dying as you bent down to pick it up.

–He wasn't sure how he'd heard that last one.

Intuition, perhaps.

Sheer connection, even.

But he wouldn't delve too much into that concept.

Despite the reality of its contents.

A sigh escapes him, he thinks, maybe one of these days, your recklessness will get you killed. But who is he to speak?

He locks the door from the inside before abandoning his shoes at the entryway, a task you never fail to stress upon to any guest who decides to stop in your home.

The cat is now perched comfortably on the end of your mattress, yawning and stretching as he makes sense of the newcomer in his house that just so happens to be intimately close with his owner.

Lip glances at his feet as he steps into the middle of the walkway, there's holes in his socks right where his toes protrude and they'd gone through their fair share of stitching and needless patching to keep them from slipping off his feet and turning into giant floppy gray lint brushes at his ankles.

Two people, similar living situations and yet two vastly different attitudes toward it.

He tries not to focus on that particular line of thought while he tucked his hands into his front pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels until you shut the bathroom door with a slam.

You're a sight for sore eyes, hair a disheveled mess, sunken in tired eyes, wearing nothing more than boxers, a white tee halfway up your arms when you pause abruptly at the sight of him.

"Hey. “

He finally acknowledges with a little side-smirk that immediately makes you feel a way that's contradictory to every single negative emotion running wild in your head.

You look at him quizzically, pulling your head through your shirt so you could breathe through the collar and clear away some of the exhaust building up after you tugged at your own hair like a horse suffering from some sort of brain-storm induced illness.

"Door was open. " He states the obvious, just to ease the awkward silence beginning to swallow you up.

In response, your eyebrows raise, tugging at your facial features and making your frown look even more drawn, and weary as your lips, that had seen better days, curl up in such a subtle, effortless smile that Lip fails to suppress his immediate burning response.

It's an ironic smile, but it charms your features nonetheless.

“Yeah.. I-” You clear your throat all the sudden, your sentence falling off into a mumble as you grab your hair before releasing it, only succeeding at making it less than structured. Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly aware of the chaos surrounding you. “Been busy. “

You move past him with rushed steps, partially knocking into the broom leant up against the wall, it clatters to the floor loudly behind you.

Lips eyes follow your frantic movement, tracking you as you stumble past him. The broom punctuates the silence like an exclamation point and he notices your cat jumping up out of his peripheral.

He doesn't move to pick it up. Instead, he stands there, hands still in his pockets as he watches you fumble with a stack of envelopes on the counter. He sees the tremble in your fingers despite the effort to suppress it, the tips pushing deep into the thick, yellow colored paper with bold, red text emblazoned on them.

“You know, “ Lip starts, voice low and measured, “I've got a pretty good idea about what those are. “

He steps over the broom, careful not to crowd you, the air between the two of you feeling heavy and charged.

Your shoulders tense at his words, a barely perceptible flinch. For a moment, the only sound is the soft padding of your cat's paws as he slinks away.

"Yeah?" Your voice is strained, almost challenging, but there's an underlying note of relief. Of being seen.

Lip's gaze drifts from the envelopes to the deep bags under your eyes, the knit in your brow, the stain in the creases of your face, to the worn-out shoes by the door, to the empty fridge humming in the corner. He finally settles back on you, confliction in the seas of his eyes.

“Look, “ he starts, then pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. You feel him get closer to you, his warmth invading your senses at once and you have to close your eyes at it.

He takes another step, less than half, not quite touching. An invitation, not a demand.

Your fingers trace the edge of the envelope as your mind blanks, for once. The paper's supposed to be rough, you know that, but you can hardly feel it with the way your fingers have calloused with the grime and weight of construction. You battle with your instincts, not moving an inch, freezing at his non touch touch.

“I have some extra cash from–”

“No. “

It's immediate. You don't think and your body instantly makes flee from him, the sizzling of the fake fish on the stovetop re-registering in your mind.

Lip doesn't flinch, but his eyes follow you as you retreat to the stove. The sizzling fills the silence between you, a mundane sound at odds with the emotional undercurrent.

"Okay. " He says softly, his tone careful but not placating. "No money. Got it. “

He leans against the counter, giving you space but not leaving. His presence is like a gravitational pull you're fighting against.

You focus on the fish, flipping it with more force than necessary. The spatula scrapes against the pan, a harsh sound that makes you wince.

"I don't need—" You start, then stop, unsure how to finish. Charity? Help? Him? All feel like lies on your tongue.

Lip waits, his patience a contrast to your agitation. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost confessional.

"You know, when I was at my lowest, I couldn't stand the idea of anyone helping me either. ”

There's something so melancholy in his voice, a darkness creeping into the depths of the ocean that usually swims with his gaze that draws your attention, once again, back to him and his story.

He pushed himself off the counter, coming just a little closer to you with gentle steps like he's scared to startle you into abandoning him for a second time.

"It sucked, " he goes on, "It felt like shit, it made me feel even shittier. "

Then he's behind you and he isn't reaching for you, isn't touching you and it's even more dizzying than if he just was.

You shut the burner off and slump, feeling smaller as his breath ghosts across your skin.

The fish continues to sizzle, filling up the gaps where you don't speak, almost like it's speaking for you.

He's an inferno, a personal sun, everything burns in his orbit, you're convinced.

But you don't like the heat, the tension.

So, instead, you stand straight with a grimace as you say,

"What're you here for, Lip?" You glance at the clock on your stove. "It's nearly midnight. "

His eyes trail down your neck and he says nothing.

Everything goes quiet. So quiet, that when you tilt your head away from him, you catch the cat staring blankly at the two of you with his tongue out and drool pooling on the ground beneath it.

You press your lips together as your brows, furrowed, meet the bridge of your nose with creases and wrinkles you've picked up from excessive worrying.

"Here for a hookup?" You don't face him as you say this, instead you busy yourself with retrieving a plate but fail to find a clean enough looking one amongst the pile of dishes in your sink and settle for a coffee filter instead.

"Jesus christ, Y/N. “ He leans forward so he's sure you can hear every word he says. "Stop projecting your shit onto me. "

Ouch.

Your lips purse, pulling down to a flat, disapproving line at that.

"You're an asshole. “

You place the faux fish on the makeshift plate with a slightly shaking hand and then turn to him, looking him in the eye in distraught before you're speeding past him again, to the couch to rip the blanket you've got on there back over the chipping surface before you finally land on it, slumping into the battered cushions with a huff and a deep, tired sigh that has him blinking at you.

The cat has since vacated the premises upon the third trip you made around your apartment, choosing to go do gods knows what over sitting on his owner's lap which is even more distressing than anything Lip had seen on his way over, or once he had actually stepped inside.

For a moment he stands awkwardly in the kitchen, staring at the back of your head, unable to fathom what you must be thinking, so he ponders, maybe trying to relieve some of that pressure instead.

"Why does this—" he catches his own sentence, having almost used the words "make you", and quickly removes that option from use. "How's your stress lately?" Is the question he elects to ask instead.

"Stress doesn't bother me. "

You lie, blatantly, blatantly lying.

He clicks his tongue, finally removing himself from the stagnant stance and strolling toward you.

One foot before the other, before the other, before the next and the next and the next, finally finding himself within the circle that surrounds your worn out couch.

"Come on. " Lip grunts lowly, eyeing the coffee table you're sat before that's cluttered with junk, and half gone boxes of garbage, with rags and bottles, stray pens and hair ties.

"Lip–"

"Lemme see. " He hums at the sight of an empty plate with something half burnt and some sort of vegetable fried in butter but otherwise undistinguishable. He's pretty sure he might have to scrape it off from how long it's been sitting there, hardening.

"I didn't say you could help clean my shit. " You warn him, trying to maintain a certain sort of coldness even though there was no way of disguising the way your shoulders lessened at his voice, or the way your back pushed in further in the seat.

That's okay. He liked your stubbornness more and more with each passing minute.

You kept him on his toes.

He sighs in response, mumbling out a comment he kept to himself over your unwillingness to accept some kind of help; like you were starving– dehydrated.

He kneels slowly in front of you and reaches out his hands until your body stiffens and then wilts underneath them.

For the sake of your pride and that stubborn resistance to accept any amount of comfort, or to even bring up the fact that Lip is, in some ways, your rock.

He can do that for you, he tells himself. He likes being relied on by someone.

Someone who needs him in a way you never let anyone see because you had this notion to keep it all locked away inside of you like you could be dependable, like you were all you had.

"Listen to me. " He takes the tasteless fish away from you and for a moment you look appalled and ready to snap, but then he grabs your hands from your lap and slides his fingers along your palms and the fight is gone at that instant.

Your eyes glaze, darkening the circles underneath and he can't help but tug you away from the makeshift plate, from the furniture, the piles of stuff on the ground, the stack of boxes in the corner, the scattered clothing and the woes of your life.

Before you know it, his arms are cradling you and his warmth, his body heat, his scent, it's all encompassing.

"You don't gotta be perfect, you know?"

You grit your teeth when he says this, laying limp like a baby on your half living room, half bedroom floor with your face buried against his collar as he practically lay above you, holding you.

"Stop. " You force out, then a second time and a third before you can get anything more coherent from your lips.

He quiets you each time with another and another gut wrenching statement and soon, your intensities are practically splayed out across the stained, Dollar Tree carpet.

"It's not anything I can't handle. "

"I'm sure you can– you always find a way. " He shifts a bit, but it doesn't disrupt your hold on him. "But it's okay to need help every once and awhile. It's okay. Even to ask for it. "

"Lip, I just—”

He hears the anger in your tone, and he shushes you with a coo like noise and a slight nod of his head.

"I can't find a fucking job. " You mutter a few moments later into his shoulder, where his hands had snaked up into your hair so he could run the pads of his fingers along your scalp.

He nods, sympathetic, "You'll find something. You'll figure it out. "

"What the fuck am I doing wrong?" Your fingers raise from the carpet in silent resentment as you ask this, reaching up to claw at the thin, coarse fabric adorning his chest.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're fucking great. The problem isn't you. Okay?"

"Sure, " You sigh, gripping onto his shoulders tighter, pulling his torso closer to you. "You say that because you think you'll hurt my feelings if you say anything else. "

"That's not true. " Lip snickers, sliding the hand back from where he was gently squeezing the back of your neck to play around with your hair instead. "If I was, we wouldn't be talking right now. You know?“

"Right. " You sniffle, a bit of a laugh bubbling up within the depths of your chest. "Because your heart belongs to anyone other than yourself? Doubt it. "

And the snark causes a giggle to erupt into the quiet of your little studio apartment.

You can smell him. His smell is like his scent mixed with coffee and sugar– for those Mondays when you want a treat, but are too lazy to walk the three blocks to the bakery for anything different than a cup of joe.

"Wow. " He snorts in return, resting his forehead against the top of your head where your nose met the tuffs of his curly, messy looking hair. "You're lucky I like you. "

"Uh huh. " A strained chuckle pushes past your lips, eyes sliding shut as your hands find his hips.

The sound of your heart beating in your ear is all you can hear as his fingers clasp around the sides of your face.

Everything is calming, cathartic. His demeanor is like honey; it runs down your bones, seeping into your open wounds and they begin to grow a bit plumper under the heat.

"Sometimes I just—" you pause, the feeling of his thumbs stroking back and forth across your jawline is too distracting for you to pay attention to the fact that you're trying to get your point across, "feel like there's something bad coming? Something coming for me, you know?"

"Yeah, " he blinks, hands gliding from your cheeks to the underside of your ears. "I know what you mean. "

His hands flatten, then run down until they find the collar of your shirt and a part of you relaxes as his fingertips stroke the outer lining of the stretched fabric.

"I get the same feeling too. " He adds, voice, so wonderfully low, rumbling from deep within his chest. "All the time. " He sighs quietly, rocking a bit.

"I'm gonna help you. " His eyes are dilated, even against the muted white ceiling light that hung above the two of you. You don't think twice to notice. “Get something going. Something solid. “

"Lip. " You choke a bit on the inside as he says this, turning your head to the right.

"I know you don't need it, but I want to. "

Against your better judgment, you take a dive and glance him right in his eyes and he doesn't falter.

It surprises you, then it doesn't.

A short sharp intake, air filling your lungs and Lip smiles. Just a sliver of skin at the edges of his lips. You take note of his change of expression immediately.

"When was the last time you had something actually good to eat?”

You narrow your gaze at him, ready to throw back an answer at his statement when he silences you by raising his hand up, index finger flying to shush you as he points at something past the two of you.

When you turn to look, you see your cat lapping his sandpaper tongue on your fish, seemingly enjoying it more than you had been.

"Been awhile for him too, apparently. "

You groan quietly, leaning back into him where the sound of his beating heart feels like music from some unknown realm your tired mind couldn't hope to understand.

"C'mon, " Lip nudges you gently.

"I'll get you something to eat. “

[tobbotobbs]

''Talking is exhausting"

My first story related post! I hope it's good and have fun!

Just a little brain vomit I had about Spencer going nonverbal after getting too overstimulated while interrogating a suspect.

Watching through the glass of the interrogationroom, m/n got nervous second by second that flew by. Spencer was in that cold looking, empty room with one of the suspects they assumed was the unsub they were looking for. Hotch said he should interrogate the woman, because she looked to be having some kind of affections for their favorite doctor. So in he went, now getting stressed more and more while the woman flirted unhinged with the brunette.

M/n saw how his colleague and significant other started to pick on his fingers. Whenever the stress gets to his head he starts picking on them or on his long sleeves but it was summer so wearing a shirt it was and choosing his hands instead. ,,Hotch, are you sure it was a good idea to send Reid in there with her? I mean, he looks kinda like freaking out to me", Derek hesitated, standing right beside m/n and their Boss, who was watching the scene go on without a doubt in his mind. ,,Yes Morgan, I am very sure of this. Give him time he gets there trust me", that was his monotone answer while he turned around and left the two agents still worried for their friend.

Time went on, more minutes and more minutes went by till Spencer was so stressed he suddenly stopped bickering and discussing with the suspect. She didn't noticed, never stopped dreaming about herself and what she could do to him and where they could do it. It was like she didn't even care he was an agent with the FBI or that she in fact was getting interrogates because she seems suspicious to them. So carefree it made them all sick. She fit perfect into their profile. Confident about herself, not caring about serious situations. Being so affected by skinny and scrawny tall men with longer hair then the norm.

,,Hey...Derek?", ,,Yeah M/n ?", ,,I think Spencer needs help I...I will go get him and you'll continue to talk to that girl? So we actually get something else out of her than this delusional blabbering?", ,,Yeah sounds good to me let's do it". The men walked to the door which lead to the interrogationroom and separated them from the other two people. With a stern look m/n pushed the door open and walked in.

Spencer looked up from where his eyes had been stuck upon, his shoes, and saw his boyfriend and best friend entering the room. He wanted to say something but he couldn't and his mind went a 100 thoughts in a second. M/n knew exactly what was going on and took Spencer by the Hand to lead him outside and into the hallway of the police station while Morgan stayed and started talking to Lilia, the girl he had tried and failed to interrogate like Hotch had expected from him.

Suddenly he was stopped. He hadn't even noticed m/n had taken him into a small burau that was empty of any humans. The door closed m/n gently pushed the taller one into a chair and sat down beside him in another. He took the brunettes hand and gently tapped it so he would focus on him. Spencer looked up, but not into m/n eyes, rather at his hair because it was hard to hold eye contact right now.

,,Do you need something Love?", quietly asked into the silent room and still holding Spencer's hand, who in return tapped 2 times against the other mans hand with his finger. They had talked about situations like this before. It was not uncommon for Spencer to get over or understimulated on or off cases. When that happens he tends to stop talking and doing common social interactions in general. That's why they talked about the tapping system. They heard of it in a few books Spencer and m/n read together, or more like Spencer read and told m/n the facts afterwards on their countless cuddle dates and sleepy mornings/nights.

So they decided to try and use it and who would've guessed, it was actually a pretty good system for them. So one time tap meant no and two taps meant yes. ,,Alright. I have my pen and notebook let me quickly pull it out so u can write down what you need, alright?", he seemed unsure to do this because he had to let go of the brunettes hand and he hates letting go of m/n hand in those times. A short nod from the other though calmed his uneasiness and so he let go of the hand and quickly searched for the notebook and pen he swore he had with him. And found them, he had.

Slowly the taller one took the pen and book and started putting word after word on the blank page. After a while he gave it back to m/n and looked a little flustered to the side. Softly smirking, m/n read the words and looked up at his cute boyfriend. ,,Of course. I think Hotch will let us get back to the hotel already if I explain to him. Then we can do that and it will be just the two of us without any disturbance, alright Love?". A last time he felt the two taps on his hand before they went to talk to Hotch.

On the page was written in clumsy handwriting:

Can we cuddle and maybe take a nap while you read The Narrative from John Smith to me?

Alright! That's a wrap up for now! I hope it was good and that there's not too many mistakes, I didn't really proofread it sooo yeah sorry for that ig!

Till next time <3

[sewersewersewercouch]

trying to put my microphone related thoughts for the new episode into words

Should I be trusted to Mic post without going off the rails agin? Probably no, but too bad, you're all stuck with me. I'm glad other people had like...mixed feelings on how Mic was written in the episode. and I'm not just using mixed as a euphemism for bad here. I felt like it was very much so close, and yet so far for me? I'm gonna brain dump here for a minute, because I like Mic a lot, and I want to discuss what I liked about her in the episode, and what I would have changed. also, spoilers obviously

So, I said in my Big Long Mic Analysis Post (tm) that I didn't really care whether Mic and Taco ended up on good or bad terms. Now is the time when I expose myself as a filthy liar. Okay, not really, I would have been fine whether they did or didn't, but...I'm a big softie who likes when characters overcome their issues and end up with a stronger, healthier relationship for having done so. So sue me. But my first thought upon watching this was...wow is this not the way I wanted this to happen. I'm not gonna speak to the way Taco was characterized, because I'm not that good at Taco, but I would say I'm half decent at Microphone, and I think I can take a stab at how I felt about her in this episode.

I've heard people say that Mic is out of character in this episode, and that's not how I'd describe her (I'm not coming for anyone who has, though! I get why you'd say so!) The thing is, there's really nothing I can point to in this episode and go "she would not fucking say that." Because most of what she said, she would fucking say! She just...wouldn't say them in these circumstances, in this part of her arc, I don't think?

To clarify---Mic felt very "Mine Your Own Business" here. And I love Mine Your Own Business! One of my favorite episodes, and honestly the one that made me love Mic as much as I do. And I did sorely miss the comedic dynamic in that episode between Mic and Taco, and was excited to see it back. Microphone's "violence is bad in general, just fyi" made me smile so much and go !!!!!! Because that's pure Mic, baby! And aside from this, on a positive, Mic felt very confident and self-assured here, and that warmed my heart! Seeing how assertive and honest she was with Taco was great. And I loved the little moment where she notices the TV is plugged in and raises her voice to say games are not the focus. It was such a small thing, but it shows how far she's come that she's able to casually use her volume modulation like that, after it was something that she was so ashamed by earlier on in the season.

But on the other...it didn't feel like the right time for Mic to be talking with Taco the way she did before Hatching the Plan. We're in the after now, and surely it would take a while for Mic to be comfortable buddying around with Taco the way she did then. (Granted, it does help that this time Taco is coming at things with the genuine want for friendship.) But...the only acknowledgement there is of what happened in Hatching the Plan was Mic saying she thought Taco would drop her as soon as she got the chance, and Taco replying that Mic beat her to it. That feels like something they should maybe...unpack? It seems odd to me that Mic is just acting like the most impactful moment in her own arc just...didn't happen.

There is a way this could be pretty easily justified, that being: PEOPLE ARE FUCKING DYING! Mic doesn't have time to process her complicated feelings on Taco. She doesn't have time to deliberate back and forth on whether she's ready to forgive her, or decide she wants to but she needs some space for a while, because they don't have a while! Either Taco, or Mic, or both, could die at any second, and the truth of the matter is, badly as they left things, Microphone doesn't want them to be on bad terms if that happens. She wants her friend back, even if it doesn't feel entirely right, because that's better than either of them dying and leaving things unsaid. And Brian has said some things that back me up that he was thinking the same thing.

But what bothers me is, we never see her have that thought process. Maybe it would have killed the pacing and all, I can respect that, but...Microphone is an open book. She rarely feels something that you can't clearly tell she's feeling. (That, or I've spent so much time analyzing her that it's rotted my brain and now there is only Microphone up there. That's also an option.) I feel like if she is having those thoughts, the viewer would be able to pick up on it a little more? The whole reconciliation felt very Taco-centric, and that was exactly what I didn't want it to be. I wanted to see more of how Microphone was feeling and thinking, see her make a more active choice, and it didn't feel like that. After all this about her having her own voice, that wasn't what that felt like to me.

I don't think, to fix this, you'd have to get rid of anything that was shown onscreen. Like I said, it wasn't exactly that she was out of character, it's more about what we didn't see. There are a few scenes I'm maybe gonna write that I think having them there would help me be a bit more positive to Mic's writing in this episode. One being, the conversation between her, MePad and Baseball before she talks to Taco. I did honestly feel a bit cheated by the fact that we never got to see MePad and Mic talk, because I was fully expecting that going into the episode, and like...maybe that's on me, for sure, but I feel like there's important things that would have been said there that just weren't included. The other---and this feels less necessary for me, but it'd be fun---is another Taco and Mic conversation, maybe at Purgatory Mansion (I don't know if there's any point they'd have time to do this, I'm not sure how tight the timeline is, but whatever.) I think they could do to have Mic talk more to Taco about where they left things, rather than just kind of briefly addressing it and then acting like it didn't happen.

Now, if we ever see these contestants again (I'm operating under the assumption that we will?) they'll probably have this conversation, if Brian's vague Twitter implications have anything to say about it. And I'd really like that, because I want my girl to be done justice. But for now I just kinda wanted to get this off my chest.

[hiddenhearthwitch]

do u have any tips/advice on how to identify and separate intrusive thoughts vs anxiety vs coincidence vs ‘this a fucking sign from the gods PAY ATTENTION’ cause tbh i feel so alone and def fuckng insane :)

First of all sugs, you're not alone. 💚 I definitely struggle with intrusive thoughts and it can be a terrible struggle between a "sign" and "wow you're in a park of course you saw a bird". You're not insane, there's just a lot in the world and even inside yourself for one human brain to process. I'm going to try to break this up into intrusive thoughts + anxiety then into coincidence + signs because it feels easier to lay out that way. We'll talk magical and mundane ways to work through this. I'm sending you good vibes babes. 🤍✨

I constantly have to remind myself that thoughts are not facts and I shouldn’t believe everything I think.

Sometimes when I have an intrusive thought I visualize myself as this dope ass paladin and I literally fight my thoughts away? I just close my eyes and meditate and focus on being the strong person I want to be and slay my own dragons. Sometimes that’s too hard and I just picture All Might because he’s Best Dad, if you have a favorite character I would give it a shot.

Aromatherapy bracelets and necklaces can be super helpful as well. Medicinally speaking lavender, chamomile, and opium would be the most mentally easing. Magically speaking pine, oak, lavender, valerian root, and hawthorn are all great for stability/protection in my experience. 

I personally carry around a sachet of onyx, rose quartz, lavender, pine, and oak.

You can minimize the damage of intrusive thoughts with self-help. This includes being mindful in the wake of an intrusive thought. Don’t waste your time obsessing over why you had that thought or what it all means. I’ve noticed once I learned to get past asking, “why am I thinking this?” all the time they don’t weigh as heavily on me. You are not your thoughts.

Intrusive thoughts are kind of just like a really loud boombox to me. Usually, if I listen to music I can really get into I can quiet down the thoughts. For the past four months or so Nujabes has been amazing musician to turn too. This past month Modal Soul has been the album that helps the most. It usually takes me a full album to feel normal again and I feel albums give me more stability than a playlist but honestly do what’s best for you.

Compulsive behavior can manifest when you try to change who you are based on the intrusive thoughts you experience. Changing who you are and your reality because of a thought that isn’t necessarily rational is the worst way to go about it. Stop trying to change who you are so you can adjust to your thoughts. Try to think about yourself in a third person perspective, “what would (insert name here) do in this situation?” This might not work for everyone but it’s helped me out once I started noticing the patterns.

From a magical perspective I’ve noticed moonstone is the stone that helps me the most. However most of my intrusive thoughts are PTSD related and I feel like moonstone helps me because it’s also stabilizing and can help prevent dissociation. I do also really enjoy onyx, tigers eye, and rose quartz as well!

Learn to recognize the starting signs for your intrusive thoughts. When my intrusive thoughts begin, they usually start off pretty simple. It’s one thought that feeds into a bigger insecurity or fear. Once you can spot the first thought you can start fighting it.

On the focus of coincidence versus a sign:

If I'm unsure if it's a sign I ask myself why I'm looking for a sign or if my gods made it clear to me to look out for one. Am I in a turning point in my life? Do I know I need guidance? Did previous divination point towards a sign coming my way?

Sometimes coincidence is the sign. If you're trying to decide if you want a purple or green wedding fit and you're driving down the road and see a shit ton of purple cars. I would call that a sign. If it's something you're actively thinking about and then it's glaringly in your face - I read that as a sign.

I've personally asked my gods to send me a sign three times if they're trying to tell me something. So that way I know.

I also take into account where I am. For example: I tend to read falcons and hawks as a sign or general greeting from Freyja. I live five miles from a national park though - hawks are every where, if I'm looking I can pretty much always find one or two on the way to or from work. Not really a sign if it's just local ecosystem at play.

That being said - they can still be signs. It's one thing if a bird of pray is just sitting on a lamp post. It's another to see it sitting on my car or catching a snake right outside my window. Common things aren't always signs - it can just be the mundane. That's when it's important to think about how it appeared and how it made you feel. Intuition is a powerful tool.

Ask yourself how you're feeling. I know this is probably a typical response but I know I personally read into everything when I'm anxious. I will catastrophize. Anything and everything becomes a sign of impending doom, fear of failure, etc. It's important to be aware of your inner dialogue and feelings when looking for signs.

If divination is a strong suit for you, consider using your divination tools as a way to verify if something was or was not a sign.

This is 100% personal belief but if a deity comes to me in a dream I will always read it as a sign. My dreams with gods are far and few between but relationships with them run very deep.

I'm not sure if any of this really helped or made sense but I hope it did. Good luck on your endeavors friend. 💐

[dema-heart]

☆♡☆♡☆♡Dream boy♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

Hobie x gn reader

Just a lil blurb thing not a whole story technically

Hobie calls you starlet or little star. I just loved the nickname starlet or anything star related when writing this.

Not edited I wrote this in between customers at work so sorry for any errors I'll edit later!

Random spider person: So what are you two?

You: Nothing! I don't even know him!?

Hobie at the same time: I'm the man of their dreams *winks as his arm comes around your shoulder*

You: NO you're not get off me! *huffing as you throw his arm off and he laughs* I keep telling you just beacuse I'm dreaming and you keep showing up doesn't mean you're the "man of my dreams" *rolling your eyes as he looks at you with that sexy ass smirk and that cute, playful glint in his eyes*

Hobie: Mhm I'll believe it...when you stop popping up in front of me during your so called "dreams" *his goofy boy next door smile definitely doesn't have you grining back as you shove at him*

You: I don't! For some reason, every time I dream up this spider people filled clubhouse, you come yelling my name and following me around trying to sweet talk me. *your eyes narrow at him but your smile doesn't fall 'man does your brain know how to pick em'*

Hobie: *smile faltering as a portal the color of purple sunsets opens up behind you* Time to go.... *his hands pull you to him by your waist before coming to rest on your cheeks, making you look at him. longing and sadness in his eyes as he gives you a sad smile* try to remember me this time,yeah?

You: of course how could i forget "the man of my dreams" *your eyes search his not sure why the mood of your dream had turned somber like this. Your hands on his hips as he refuses to let go of you*

Hobie: *gives a sad chuckle* Whatever you say,doll. I'll make you love me all over again next time, regardless. Goodbye,starlet *He kisses your forehead as your eyes close the portal pulling you in*

You: *wakes up to the sound of your alarm going off. Head pounding, chest rising and falling heavily with your uneven breaths, and heart hurting. You squeeze your eyes closed and focus on your breathing. All you remember were gentle hands and.... 'goodbye, starlet' another pang to the head as the affectionate words and glitchy images came rolling through. You groan rolling over to grab your water bottle and dream journal hopeful that writing what little of the dream you remembered down would ease the ache*

You: Starlet, huh... *you whispered into the empty room touching your face expecting to feel hands holding your cheeks...not sure why..before shaking your head and getting ready for the day.* These dreams are getting out of hand.

This is based off a story I was working on but haven't finished (it was gonna be long ;^; and it was just for me so i slacked). Basically I came up with the whole idea of being a different worlds "M.J." (the characters name starts with a J and in the story everyone calls her M.J. aka Ms.jay as she's a nurse at her old high-school). She's best friends/roomates with her worlds Peter Parker (doesn't know he's spider man but jokingly calls him spidey cause hes always acting all heroic and getting himself hurt even tho he's a clumsy nerd *nudge nudge* ). He recently saved her from doc ock but something went wrong during the rescue and she's been mutiverse jumping in her sleep but doesn't know it and always ends up in the spider society beacuse that's where her Peter,the person she feels safest with (for now) aka her anchor is. There's no love between Peter and M.j beacuse they're basically family and he has Gwen that they're both also best friends with.

[badescapeartist-blog]

2

“Chess demands total concentration.” - Bobby Fischer 

That quote is simple, but important for two reasons. The first is that it is advice coming from–apparently–one of the best chess players ever. So I should probably turn off Netflix while I’m running through games. The second reason is that it falls in line closely with one of the main goals of my project.

In the last post, I gave a brief overview of the logistics of the project, which up to know have remained unchanged. I am still trying to play as much as I can. I am still reviewing my matches. I am still not looking up chess tutorials or theory. This post is not about the how of the project. It’s the why. 

For a long time now I have had problems focusing and staying on task. Especially if the task at hand isn’t something that I find particularly fun. Even when playing video games I find myself distracted by a video on my second monitor or a notification from my phone. I don’t think I have any sort of attention deficit disorder. Or if I do, it is very mild. 

I say that because there are many moments where I do stay on track and blast through my to-do list. Out of nowhere my brain seems to shift and I can dive deep into a task. But this is usually after blundering the better part of an hour, pruning distractions one by one until there is nothing left but what’s in front of me. It’s an amazing feeling nonetheless. After a few hours of working at that level of focus, there is a sort of afterglow of a job well done.

All that to say, I enjoy being able to focus but struggle to get into the right frame of mind for it. Ultimately the struggle stems from a hiatus I took from my post-secondary education a few years ago. In that time I obliterated any good-student habits I had before. This is where the game of chess comes into play.

Before I continue, I want to shed some light on the fact that my source is a biased one. This article works as an overview of the benefits of chess, but they are also selling subscriptions so it’s in their best interest to make the game look like a cure-all. It is a good place to start at least. 

The article linked above mentions multiple benefits from playing chess--but doesn't include sources--including brain exercise, cultivating creativity, confidence boost, even using it as an educational tool. But the one I’m most interested in is number four on that list: “Chess helps you focus.”

Even without scientific data to back up the claims, it does make sense. Just as the example in the article shows, you could be playing perfectly all game, losing zero important pieces and pressing the king into a corner. All it takes is one mistake for the game to fall apart. It was noticeable even in the few games I have played since starting on this project. Bobby Fischer tells no lies when he says that you have to stay focused. Not just on the important pieces, but on the board as a whole. It’s not enough to know where the queen is. I also have to pay attention to how the queen interacts with other pieces, and where they are in relation to the king, and so on and so forth. But the focus should really be on the big picture, the ultimate goal: a checkmate. 

Use all tools available, and use them to their fullest potential, to complete the goal. That is chess. It’s not possible if the mind is wandering and asking other questions. Getting a checkmate is paramount. That is why I want to learn chess. So that I can translate that to other areas of my life. Completing tasks without distractions means there is more time to do the fun things in life. 

Do I think being good at chess would be cool? Yes, I do. There’s no denying it. Does it also happen to be fun? Yes. But I do see potential for a real benefit and I think that’s reason enough to give it a shot. At least for 14 weeks.

[crazylittlejester]

I'm still on my Four Swords brainrot detour so you get to hear all about that today. Consider this my vote for you to read the book. I have the legendary copy, it was my big summer purchase last year (it's not that expensive, I'm just a broke college student) and I love it to pieces. I'm usually more into LU due to the fact that the FS fandom is pretty small and I'm not very active in it and my favorite artist is on hiatus. However. When the brainrot circles back around I am stuck in it for a while.

Anyway, it's the only LoZ game I've written anything for (except HW but that was a short bit about gender crises so it hardly counts).

I've taken inspiration from @zarvasace's series Shatterproof, and started working on a disability AU for FS out of pure indulgence.

Have I made basically any progress since I started it? No.

Has it been completely rotting my brain this past week? Yes.

The way I have it planned out is that I'm going to write a chapter for each of the Links, including Shadow, and one for Zelda. Each chapter is going to be a short story about their experiences with being disabled and how they feel about that. I'm supposed to be working on Green's chapter right now and I think it's maybe half done, but I'm contemplating taking it apart and picking at the pieces some more before I actually write the second half out.

The thing about Green is that he's kind of your generic Link. He's as close as you get to the original as far as personality and temperament go, so that's been my main issue thus far. He's just... really, really vanilla. Even his part of the story is kind of vanilla! He gets his death faked twice and he's not even the person doing the faking! He's just there as a driving force and it bugs me sometimes because he's like the FS version of the nameless "prince charming" and I could go off on a whole extra tangent but I should save that for when you've actually read the book.

The point is, he's not a character I easily get vibes from, so I've had to do a bunch of thinking and I came to the conclusion that he's going to be the one to be hit over the head with a work-related injury. Literally. He ends up with a bad head injury that impacts his ability to do a lot of things that knights need to be good at.

I haven't decided if he ends up keeping his job after he recovers or not, but he does have a lot of angst over that because he's a bit of a workaholic and spent most of his time working so that Red, Blue, Vio, and Shadow could focus on taking care of the house and each other. He considers himself to be the main breadwinner and then suddenly can't work because of his injury and has to wait and see if he'll be able to go back to work. There's going to be a whole thing about overcoming internalized ableism, and how even if you aren't ableist towards other people you can still be ableist towards yourself and it's a lot of work to build up the self-esteem necessary to stop that thought process.

I just love his chapter so much even though I'm probably going to use those themes throughout the entire work. There's just something about his part that really scratches the itch in my brain.

I have rough ideas planned out for Vio, Blue, and Red, but I'm not really sure what to do about Shadow and Zelda. Prior to finding out about your Warriors having blood sugar problems I was thinking about giving her diabetes or something similar, but I'm not really sure how much I can fudge in a fantasy setting without accidentally killing her. So I'm still at the drawing board for her.

Thank you for being my FS brainrot victim. :)

I gotta get the four swords legendary edition, I thought I had it but i dont 💔💔💔 I’m also a broke college student so i feel ya

GREEN ISNT EVEN THE ONE WHO FAKES HIS OWN DEATH TWICE ALSKSKDK?

ooooooh work related injury and overcoming internalized ableism, I’m so excited to read that!! (if you share it)

You could totally still give her a blood sugar issue if you wanted, it’d be cool to read about if you do decide to do that, but also anything else you come up with would be cool, all of this sounds awesome

THANK YOU FOR THE DAILY BRAINROT, TODAY WAS EXHAUSTING AND I DONT FEEL GREAT AND THIS LITERALLY CAME AT THE PERFECT TIME >:)