#i’m so overwhelmed i can’t even function right now

[lumiereandcogsworth]

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[yellobb]

I’m literally going to puke

[rileyslibrary]

Idk if you’re taking commissions rn but if you are.. Can you do one where reader acts as Ghosts weighted blanket after an anxiety attack? I feel like he’d love that xx

I’m glad you asked for the reader to act as Ghost’s weighted blanket instead of the other way around because that would be like being flattened by a road roller. Also, it is good to note that anxiety attacks are not the same as panic attacks. Yes, they do have some similarities, but they differ. This story is about Ghost having an anxiety attack, so bear that in mind.

And let’s be clear here: he would never explicitly ask you to do such a thing.

Never.

In fact, he would never ask you to do anything that would need you to be physically attached to him, neither from the front nor back. And his anxiety, if he ever suffers from it—which I’m sure he does because, come on, who doesn’t in our times, plus it is mentioned in the comics—he can cover it pretty well.

But it takes one to know one, right? You’ve had your fair share of anxiety attacks; you know they are not sudden or obvious. Instead, they develop slowly, gradually. That sense of general unease lingers, haunting him for weeks, even months. He doesn’t start trembling or shaking out of nowhere. This one is subtle but constant, like a leaky faucet that drips every few seconds. He feels restless and triggered by something vague that he can’t understand himself. All. The. Time.

He knows what a panic attack is; he experienced it multiple times before, mainly due to the nature of his work. But an anxiety attack? To a soldier who associated the word “attack” with something swift, sudden and imminent? There’s no such thing as an anxiety attack to him.

No.

He doesn’t comprehend this constant need to stay in control, why he’s always tense, his inability to take a full, deep breath. To him, that’s just how his body functions. Relaxation has been a foreign concept since childhood, so he’s normalised it. And he learned how to bear these symptoms instead of understanding what triggers them and learning how to alleviate them.

You’ve observed the pattern; he tends to become like that a few months before a mission, so you were able to put one and one together.

And one day, you find him lying face-down on the bed. Something prompts you, and you crawl on top of him. He shifts and asks you, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing”. Maybe he even tries to stand up while you are on his back, and you ask him to trust you; he’ll see.

He’s hesitant but obeys, though he’s more alert than ever now. You settle on top of him; he feels like he’s carved from wood, but not because of his physique. He’s tense. Stiff. Rigid. He’s afraid to let go. He holds his breath. His palms are pressed into the mattress beside his chest, ready to spring into a burpee and launch you back to where you came from.

Yet he doesn’t do it. Slowly his muscles relax under your body, and you feel him gradually—though clumsily—release tension in each body part; his legs, back, and then his shoulders. He finally lets go of the breath he’s been holding, replaced by a long exhale, his first in months. He places his hands on the sides of his body and lets out a repressed chuckle.

You ask him why he’s laughing, and he asks you to turn your face away because you are breathing into his ear. You comply.

With you not watching, he can finally close his eyes now. Good.

But even Ghost can take so much weight. Or so much intimacy. After a while, he snaps out of it, and he wriggles out from under you, letting you fall on the mattress, muttering a brief “Enough.” He doesn’t thank you for anything. What did you really do? Yes, he feels a little lighter, and his mind is clearer, but all you did was rest on him. That’s all. No need to thank you for that.

He needs it, though. Again and again. No, he doesn’t need you, of course. No, silly. He craves that sensation again—letting go. So whenever he feels overwhelmed, he awkwardly gestures toward his back and asks you sternly to “do that thing”. And you try to suppress your laughter and obey his command.

And slowly, just like his anxiety attacks come and go, he realises that it’s not just your weight on top of him that soothes him. It’s you, your will to make him feel better, your heart beating against his back, your form attached to him that makes all this chaos in the world feel a little bit more manageable than before.

[angel1010xx]

ｃｉｇａｒｅｔｔｅｓ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You hated cigarettes.

Cigarettes were stuffy and overwhelming, the scent lingered for hours, and the smoke made your lungs feel closed up. They were complete bombardments to your senses, and genuinely? You felt as if the world would be better off without them. Smoking is a bad habit, after all. Why would anyone willingly choose to give themselves lung cancer and an early grave?

The Thousand Sunny was having a lively night. Brooks was merrily serenading the crew, while each of them were on their own missions. Zoro was drinking (to death, probably, how was his liver still functioning?), Usopp was reliving the latest battle with Luffy, Franky, and Chopper (with embellishments, of course, not that his audience would be able to detect them), and Nami and Robin were sucked into their books (they were so perfect, the crew hardly deserved the gift of their presence). That just left Sanji.

Running around, fawning over “Nami-Swan,” and lighting yet another cigarette.

Yes, he was a phenomenal chef. Yes, he was doting and chivalrous. Yes, he was charismatic and consistent, and it was so hard to find a man that to actually abide by a moral code. But God, he was perverted. He was unbearable. And he reeked like menthol.

Sighing, you crossed your wrists over each other and leaned on the railing of the ship. The Grand Line was dangerous, but it was beautiful when the moonlight reflected across the water. The sights, the wind in your face, and the freedom made all the trouble worth the adventure. You were apart from the main crowd, opting for some personal space at the front of the ship. The Straw Hat crew was your family; and true to life, everyone needs their elbow room sometimes, even from the ones they love most. 

Approaching footsteps interrupted your peace. Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Sanji walking towards you. Great, you thought. He gazed at you with a slight tension in his brow. “The fish is ready. Are you going to eat?”

“In a little bit, yes,” you responded. “I just wanted some fresh air and quiet right now.” Sanji settled in, standing beside you, mimicking your pose by also leaning against the railing. “I hope you come down soon,” he spoke in a low voice. “Our princess-warrior needs her strength just like the rest of us.” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’m scared, Sanji,” you whispered, choosing to open up to him. “The world is changing. I worry about my people at home. I know there’s ample resources and military force to keep them safe, but…” you trailed off, eyes shifting from focusing and losing focusing on the sea waves. Sanji let out a hum, and pulled out a cigarette and a light. You cocked your head towards him, this time with a slight lip curl. “You just had one. Do you really have to smoke another one, right here?”

He let out a puff of smoke and a chuckle. “Mon amour, we all have ways of dealing with our stress.” 

Sanji shifted to face his body towards you, but kept one arm on the railing. “You can’t sit there and worry about your people all day and night. I see it on your face every time I look at you. It practically breaks my heart,” he paused to place his free hand on his chest. He broke out into a warm smile. “Right here and now, princess, you are safe, and they are safe too.” 

You let out a deep breath, doing your best to soak in his words. “Thank you, Sanji.” He let out another hum, put out his cigarette, and brought you in for a hug. “Of course, mon amour.”

Yes, he smelled like menthol. Yes, you had a hard time breathing. But he also smelled like cologne. He was warm, and the feeling of his breath down the side of your neck made you shiver. A thought came into your mind for a split second—what would it be like to taste the cigarette, if you were to press your lips to his own?

It’s a fine line between love and hate, after all. 

[vampiricgf]

Morning Elvis

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 2k

warnings: pre established relationship, depiction of alcoholism, mention of sex but no smut, honestly just two idiots that don't know how to really talk to each other if they're not fucking so he gets spooked and runs away the second there's any real intimacy or care, set roughly before he's in colorado in vendetta

one) I know he eats ass so to me the joke lands and two) the title is the florence and the machine song morning elvis ‹𝟹

On nights when he’s dreading his own company Leon calls you. With how frequently those nights are becoming, you’re starting to think he should just give you a spare key to his place.

And even if you promise yourself day in and day out that you won’t pick up the phone this time, won’t come running like a loyal dog because it always ends the same, you find yourself speaking the same words as usual each time. Sure, I’ll be over. 

It’s a strange sort of limbo knowing you’re caught up in a man that will never be able to commit to you. 

But still, you’re as stubborn as ever. Standing outside his door shivering in the evening cold, peering uselessly into the darkened window. It’s not late enough for him to have forgotten you were coming and ended up sprawled in bed, but depending on how much he’s already had to drink the time may not matter. That makes you feel sleezy too, the fact that he almost exclusively calls you when he’s already had a few. 

Now that you think of it, you could count on one hand the number of conversations you’ve had when he’s sober. 

“Fuck, come on. Please don’t be asleep.” You whisper to yourself as you bring your knuckles to meet the solid oak door again, three sharp knocks. 

It’s then that you hear heavy footsteps, uncoordinated as he clearly stumbles to get the door, unlatching it just a crack to peer down at you with bloodshot eyes. How strange it’s a perfect shade of red to offset the cerulean of his eyes. If only reddened eyes weren’t a universal sign of something bad occurring in the body, they’d be pretty otherwise.

“Did you speed the whole way or something?” He asks as he unlatches the chain, fully swinging the door open and allowing you to step past him. 

As your eyes adjust and you step further inside you feel nearly overwhelmed with pity. The place is a mess, and while thats not unusual what is strange is the fact that he’s left so much evidence of his overconsumption laying around. Empty fifths, their labels peeling, and even a smattering of the little shooters you can buy at gas stations for a dollar litter the countertops of his kitchen, a scant few dishes languishing in a steel basin graveyard. 

Under normal circumstances you’d classify Leon as a functioning alcoholic. Not a good label, but at least he could still do his job and keep his head on straight no matter how full of whiskey said head might be. But this? This was the apartment of a nonfunctional alcoholic, no dancing around it. 

“Have you eaten anything?” You ask suddenly, turning around to face him as he leans against the countertop like he’ll collapse without the support. For a split second you’re afraid he might. 

“Why’d you care?” His eyes are unfocused but don’t stray from you and you take it as a good sign, he’s not completely trashed. 

“Because you look like shit.” You say it plainly, but the words are sharp regardless. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t give you what you came for.” 

“Who says thats all I come for?” Your voice drops off and you turn away from him, feeling suddenly sick. Sick with yourself for doing this again, sick that you’ve done it already so many times. 

He laughs and it’s a harsh sound, makes you flinch a little and shrink into yourself feeling even more foolish. “Oh because you’re here for good conversation and tea or some shit like that, right?”

You glare at him over your shoulder before walking back towards the door. 

Fuck this, I’m not being a drunken slam piece anymore-

“Oh come on, you can’t handle a little teasing all of a sudden? Not like you haven’t taken worse.” 

You sprin on your heel, sudden surge of anger squeezing you so tightly it nearly leaves you breathless. “You know what? You’re a drunk that needs to get your shit together, not your dick wet. Why don’t you use your furlough for something more productive than drowning in Jack and calling girls you don’t give a fuck about.” Your voice shakes as your pitch rises, hands clenched so hard it’s nothing short of a miracle your nails don’t break off in your palms. 

You wish you could punch him. Not enough to hurt him or because thats really what you want but because punctuating your words in the language he understands best might be the only way to reach him. The only sound in the place is your own ragged breathing, like you sprinted the whole way here, but before you can make a move to leave once more he pushes away from the countertop and does something that catches you off guard.

His arms come around you and the smell of sweat and alcohol wind around your body, invade your senses, seconds after. But it doesn’t matter because your bag falls to the floor with a heavy thump and your own arms wrap around him as he hides his face against the side of your neck. 

You stay like that for a while, in that strange, tense embrace, before his muffled voice fans warmly over your skin. 

“Who says I don’t give a fuck about you?”

You sigh. “Honestly, you do Leon. All of this just says you don’t give a fuck about anything, not even yourself.”

That and I’m not delusional enough to think you really like me. I’m convenient.

Silence descends once again and for a moment you’re worried you overestimated his coherence, that he may be about to black out in your arms, but before that thought takes hold he steps back from you, and the sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver as if you stepped into a walk in freezer. 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” And it sounds like the words both are and are not meant for you because he doesn’t meet your gaze, raking a hand through his hair before grabbing for one of the bottles in his impromptu menagerie, a quarter full of something clear. Before he can unscrew the cap you liberate it from his grasp, clutching the neck of it like a weapon. 

“Maybe I am. So why don’t you stop for the night, at least. Clean yourself up a little, sleep for once. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” You suspected he might not have, truthfully. 

He eyes you with something you can’t place and you aren’t sure you want to at this moment. Something between bitterness and relief, but before you can examine it with any depth he turns his back to you, moving to the hall bathroom. You think of the silly little cat nightlight you jammed into the outlet inside the small space one night, tired of always slamming your knee or your toes off the doorframe in the pitch black. The faint glow tells you it’s still there, faithfully illuminating the dark. 

The running of a tap is all you get in response and your eyes run over the kitchen again, fresh dismay setting in at the sheer quantity he’s been indulging in. As quietly as possible you start gathering the loose bottle up, a wide variety of sizes and flavors but your nose scrunches as you size up a still mostly full bottle of Everclear. You shiver just imagining the scent of it, stinging like a nose full of isopropyl with the aftertaste of straight kerosene. 

That one you decide to pour down the drain, cringing as your memory of the smell of it is proven accurate. 

“You owe me ten bucks for that.” 

His voice comes from behind you and you huff out a slight laugh, rolling your eyes as you face his direction and make your way to the garbage can.  “I’ll leave it on the counter.” 

“I’m sorry, by the way,” His blue eyes find yours as you straighten up from the can, and your own scan his face before answering. 

“Don’t be. Just… take better care of yourself.” 

Just don’t call me again, because I’m not the one strong enough, or selfish enough, to ignore it.

His hand rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck and he looks nervous, a rare sight and it’s oddly cute for a second. “It’s getting late, you can stay here- if you want to, I mean.” 

You smile softly, wistful, because you know exactly what time it is and that you could drive back home just fine and get enough sleep. Know that you should. “Yeah, sure. I can take the couch if you have a spare blanket.”

“You can sleep with me, my tongue has literally been in your ass before.” He rolls his eyes at you and you gape, feeling giddy embarrassment bubble up in your chest like you swallowed something overly carbonated and you giggle before you can stop yourself. 

“Fair enough, I guess.” You shake your head but follow after him towards the bedroom, feeling an out of place anxiety tugging at the corners of your mind. You’ve never just slept together, sex has always taken priority before. 

Despite that, settling in beside him doesn’t feel uncomfortable, if anything you’re surprised by the exhaustion creeping up behind your eyes, making your limbs feel heavier with each passing second. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you, laying on his side to face you in a mirrored position. 

“I always think one of these days you’re not going to pick up.”

His words are so quiet you could almost convince yourself they were from the beginnings of a dream. Almost.

“I always pick up. For you.” You’re not sure why the words sound so mournful. 

“You shouldn’t. You don’t deserve getting bitched at by a guy that can’t spend more than five minutes sober.” 

“And you don’t deserve to be alone.” 

You hear his breathing hitch at your words but you still don’t open your eyes, as if the action would shatter the quiet moment between you two. 

“We- we shouldn’t do this again.” And that makes your eyes flutter open, blearily taking him in, the out of place vulnerability on his face and the sheer fatigue expressed plainly on his features. You wish you could reach out, cradle his face, run your fingers over him, commit him to memory. 

“No, we probably shouldn’t.” 

If I’m getting what I want, why do I feel like crying?

When rays of sunlight break through the blinds to assault your eyes you recognize that you’re alone before you’re even fully conscious. The apartment is as quiet as a mausoleum, still, stale air filling up your lungs as you rise from the pillows, shoulders cracking. 

You don’t call out, quietly standing from the rumpled bed before padding out towards the kitchen, peeking into the bathroom just to make sure but only the sight of the empty room greets you. The kitchen is much the same, a few stray bottles remain but it seems you cleared the bulk of them last night. In the living room you find a note on the coffee table, a silver key glinting in the hazy dimness on top of it. 

It���s a short goodbye. He left you the key so you could lock the front door before you went back to your place, he’ll get it from you when he can. Something about trying to take your advice, maybe Colorado will be better suited for getting himself together. 

You set the note back down, rubbing your thumb over the face of the apartment key. 

As you pull your bag up off the floor you make a mental note to keep flights out west bookmarked for the time being. 

Because after all, you always answer if he calls.

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 4

Summary: the aftermath, and your first day of work. good lord.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

WC: ~4.15k

You kiss her back- of course you do. You would be an idiot to pretend that you weren’t attracted to your neighbor turned coworker.

But as soon as you pull away, there’s a look of panic written on your face. “Uh-”

“I- I’m sorry,” the redhead apologizes quickly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No. No,” you state. “Don’t apologize. I just, uh…” you turn bright red, nearly as red as the woman’s hair next to you.

She stands awkwardly.

“No,” you sigh. “I- I liked that.”

She sits back down and looks you in the eye. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I did… I just-“ you purse your lips, trying to figure out how to say this without ruining everything that you have going on right now.

“Just say what you’re thinkin’, hun,” Melissa encourages gently.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you say softly as you evade her eye contact.

“You won’t,” she promises, laying a warm hand over yours.

You suck in a breath before spilling out, “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but I- I just divorced my husband, I have Ellie to worry about and look after, we’re coworkers now! I- this is all so complicated. I just don’t think now is a great time, and maybe not… maybe not ever.”

Those green eyes look at you with such an understanding that it hurts you- it pains you so much to not be able to give into what you so desperately want to do. You want to be selfish and pull the redhead into your bedroom, tell her that even though you’ve only known her for a short time, she makes you feel more than Jared ever had. But you can’t- because you know there are too many risks involved with this woman, and you do not want to lose a good friend, coworker, and someone that your daughter trusts and loves.

“I understand, hun,” Melissa tells you softly. “I do. It’s okay.”

“Melissa,” you sigh quietly. You stare at your hands, one of hers on top. “I am so-”

“Don’t apologize,” she instructs gently, yet also somehow sternly. “I will not hear it.”

You nod hesitantly before looking into her striking emerald eyes with tear filled eyes of your own.

“Hey,” she says gently. “Don’t cry. There’s no need to cry. We’re okay. I promise.” She tugs you in, allowing you fall into her arms. You cling to her, the perfume that she’s wearing surrounding you.

After a few seconds, you pull back. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asks. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

“For-” you bite your bottom lip nervously. “For helping out when I need it, and for being there for Ellie, and for helping me get a job, and for… being so understanding about all of this.”

“Of course,” she smiles softly, patting your arm. “I’ll always be here to help in any way I can.” She stands. “I guess I should head back over to my place- school tomorrow.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “Or… you could stay for a little longer? Have another glass and keep watching the movie with me?”

It’s clear that you don’t want to be alone right now.

“You okay?” she asks as she sits back down and wraps an arm around you. She chuckles. “I promise I’m not trying to make any more moves on you- just trying to provide comfort. Barb is a lot better at it than I am.”

“You’re not doing too bad,” you give a choked out laugh, tears still in your eyes. “Y-yeah, I’ll be okay. Just a bit overwhelmed with this new life… missing my old one. The divorce is still pretty raw too.”

“I know that feeling,” she sighs. “My ex-husband and I divorced years ago, and sometimes it still haunts me. So, know that you aren’t alone in those feelings.”

You nod and relax into the couch cushion.

The two of you sit quietly, thoughtfully and neither of you watching the screen in front of you, before she really does have to go get to bed if she’s going to be a functional teacher tomorrow.

You see her out, thanking her again, before sighing. You close the door gently before leaning up against it. Deciding that you still don’t want to be alone, you go to Ellie’s room. She’s fast asleep surrounded by her stuffed animals, but she’s clutching something in her arms. 

You gently arrange her so that you can see what she’s- she’s holding onto a picture of you, her, and your ex-husband. Jared has an arm wrapped around you, his smile is bright. You have Ellie on your hip, and she’s giggling at something that he had said to make her laugh for the picture. You have a clear look of love in your eyes as you look down on your sweet little girl.

Those times were… so good. Simple. Full of what you thought was love. If only you had known he was sleeping around with Sharon, and Sarah, and Heather, and Autumn, and… whoever the hell else he was before finally deciding to dedicate most of his time to Jen and not you.

You wipe the tears that have rolled down your cheek with the back of your hand before you simply curl up next to your daughter and hold her as you try to ground yourself. You fall asleep. holding her protectively- as if you could shield her from all of the terrible things that happen in the world. She snuggles into your body, smiling in her sleep and letting out a soft hum.

The next morning, Ellie is jumping on your chest to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn.

“Momma, momma, momma!” she shakes you.

You groan, keeping your eyes closed. “Momma’s sleeping, baby.”

“No you’re not! I’m hungry, and I wanna go to school!”

You open one eye, just barely, to see that beautiful girl of yours. You turn your head to look at the unicorn alarm clock on her pink bedside table. Next to it is the picture of your torn apart family, and your heart hurts for just a second before you see the time: 5:30.

“Elizabeth, it’s too early to be awake,” you groan as you pull her from off of you and gently set her next to you. You pull her in close to your chest. “Go back to sleep, baby girl.”

“But I’m wide awake!” she tells you.

“And I am not,” you chuckle. “Lay with me until the clock says six, and then we can talk about breakfast and getting up.”

Your daughter sighs, but she does relax against you. You hold her tight, reveling in the fact that while everything has been turned upside down in your world, Ellie is your one constant. You have your little girl- she’s all yours, and you’re going to do everything you can for her.

The next time you wake up, you’re slamming your fist on the alarm clock, turning it off. Ellie is fast asleep on your chest, the smallest droplet of drool falling from her mouth.

“Ellie Belly,” you jostle her gently. “It’s time to wake up for school, my love.”

Her little head pops up, and you chuckle at her wild bedhead. “Mrs. Howard?”

“Yes, my love,” you smile. “It’s time to start getting ready to go see Mrs. Howard.”

She uses you as a launch pad to jump up, and you let out a small groan. She’s opening her closet to pick out her outfit before you can even sit up.

You get her ready before starting on breakfast and getting yourself at least somewhat presentable for the day. You know you’re going to head into the school to set up your new room before you start to DoorDash. You should look at least somewhat professional entering the school.

As you shuffle your daughter out the door, you’re met with the redhead.

“Hey,” she smiles at the two of you, sunglasses already over her eyes.

“Miss Mel!” Ellie absolutely lights up. “Are you gonna take me to school again today?”

“Not today, little love,” you tut softly. “Momma’s gonna bring you. We’re gonna take the bike.”

The redhead frowns. “When are you getting your car out here?”

“Not for another few weeks,” you sigh.

“I can give the two of you a lift if you want,” Melissa tells you. “I really don’t mind.”

“Oh, I have to get back home somehow,” you chuckle nervously. 

“You can bring my car back, so long as you promise to pick us back up at the end of the day,” the woman counters.

You bite your lip, hesitant to accept her offer to help. But Ellie is looking up at you with pleading eyes. So you nod before opening your front door back up and grabbing the booster seat for her.

You get Ellie settled in the car before climbing into the passenger seat. “Thank you.”

She just smiles at you as she pulls out of the parking garage and onto the busy streets of center city Philadelphia.

She hums softly to the music that is coming from the speakers before turning and asking you, “Any big plans for the day?”

You shrug. “I’ll probably be biking back and forth today with the supplies from the storage locker for my new room.” 

“Use my car for the day,” she tells you without any sort of hesitation. “Less trips, more time to set up.”

“I- I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t,” she chuckles. “I’m offering to help.”

“I’m paying you for gas,” you tell her, hitting her with a look that leaves no room for argument.

“No you ain’t,” your coworker laughs. “Just make dinner again sometime soon, and we’ll call it even.”

“I like it more when you cook, Miss Mel,” Ellie makes her thoughts very clear.

You roll your eyes at that comment and look back at her. She’s giving you the most innocent little smile, and your heart melts. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Melissa pulls into a spot in the parking lot before grabbing her bags. “C’mon. I’ll show you where your room is.”

It happens to be the room right next to hers. You glance around, and you can make this work. It just needs some brightening up.

“Ellie,” the redhead says softly, gathering the attention of your daughter. “Your momma has to get going, and Miss Mel is gonna head into the teacher’s lounge for some coffee and morning news. You coming?”

Your daughter nods excitedly. “Can I bring my book?”

“Of course,” the second grade teacher smiles softly. “Say goodbye to your momma though first.”

Ellie bounces over to you and flings herself into you. You chuckle, crouching down to her level before hugging her tightly. You release her, and Melissa plants her car keys in your hands.

“Seriously,” you say softly. “Thank you. I’ll be making my poppyseed chicken tonight if you want to join us.”

She nods. “I’ll bring the wine.”

You spend most of your day heading back and forth between the storage locker that has your teaching supplies and the school. You have a thin sheen of sweat dousing your brow by the time the school bell rings to signify that the day is over, but your classroom looks great. It’s bright and full of positivity, and you couldn’t be more satisfied with the progress that you had made.

You gather your purse and a few things that you won’t be needing before heading outside to gather your girl in your arms.

“Momma!” Ellie catches sight of you before you can make your way out the door. She’s holding onto Melissa’s hand tightly with a grin on her face.

You open your arms up wide for her, and she drops your neighbors hand to come running into your arms. “Hi, my love. Did you have a good day at school?”

She nods enthusiastically before looking back at Melissa. “Mrs. Howard let me sneak into the secret room to give her a hug again. I love Miss Mel.”

“I know you do,” you chuckle.

“Can I be her helper while we wait for her to go home?” your daughter requests softly. “She needs help making sure everyone gets to their people.”

“If that’s okay with Miss Mel,” you chuckle.

Ellie walks on her toes back over to the redhead and tugs gently on her sleeve. She asks before raising her arms up for Melissa to pick her up. Of course, your neighbor obliges with a smile. Ellie wraps her arms around her neck and lays her head on the leather jacket gently.

You can’t help but smile as you watch the two of them together. Ellie is so comfortable with Melissa, and it makes your heart so happy to see that she’s content with someone besides you- she had always been a bit more hesitant around new adults. But Melissa had swooped right in and made her way into Ellie’s heart. You know that Melissa has a special place in your daughter’s heart too.

Dismissal is over, and you follow Melissa back into the school for her to gather her things, Ellie still on the redhead’s hip slumped over and clearly asleep.

You offer to take Ellie off her hands for her.

“I got her,” Melissa smiles, holding Ellie with such tender love and care.

You chuckle. “Are you sure? I know she gets heavy after a while, and you’ve been holding her for the past twenty minutes.”

“I got her,” the redhead is adamant as she grabs her purse and slings it over her other shoulder. “How’s your room coming along? Mind if I sneak in and take a look?”

You nod, although you’re nervous. You hope she finds it to be suitable. She walks in and her eyes go wide.

“Wow, Y/N,” she says softly. “This looks incredible. The kids are going to love it.”

You blush and mumble a thanks before following her out the door to head to her car. Melissa puts Ellie in the car and buckles her in with a soft chuckle. She moves the stray hairs out of her face before closing the door gently. You hand her the keys that she puts her hand out for before climbing into the car.

The ride home is peaceful. She tells you what some of your future students are up to, and she explains that they are more than excited to meet you. That makes you smile- although you hope you can live up to the hype.

When you get home, Ellie is awake and feeling refreshed from her nap. She’s immediately asking if she can help you make dinner for her favorite person. You allow her to mix the sauce together, and you can’t help the chuckle you let out when she steals a taste.

“My silly girl,” you say softly. She’s growing up before your eyes.

“Can I go get Miss Mel?!” she asks.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I think someone has a new favorite person… and it isn’t Momma! How rude!”

“No! No!” Ellie is quick to hug you tightly. “You’re my favoritest person in the whole wide world! Miss Mel is just my second favoritest person.”

You squeeze her right back. “That’s so kind of you to say. Go ahead… get Mel.”

She runs off, and you take a deep breath to collect yourself. Hearing that you were her favorite person in the world- it melts your heart. But you also remember a time where a five year old Ellie would proudly announce that Momma and Daddy were her two favorite people in the world. Now it’s just you.

A stray tear falls down your face, and you’re quick to wipe it away when you hear the front door open again.

“-And I helped Momma make it!” Ellie finishes her sentence as she drags Melissa into your kitchen.

You quickly wipe away the second tear that makes its way down your cheek before turning around with a broad smile on your face. Melissa sees right through your act though, and she gives you a questioning look. You silently shake your head, indicating that you’re fine. She doesn’t believe you and mouths that you’ll talk about it later.

Ellie launches herself up at you, and you’re quick to hold her close to you, peppering her cheeks with the kisses that she deserves. “Little miss was the best co-chef,” you let out a thick chuckle.

Dinner goes on as it usually does, and then the three of you settle on the couch. Ellie watches the usual cartoon that she loves in Melissa’s lap before she’s dozing off. You suppose that her nap only kept her refreshed for a bit.

The redhead looks down and laughs softly, rubbing Ellie’s back soothingly. “She was exhausted after recess today… told me all about the crazy game of tag she was playing with her classmates.”

“Sounds like my little girl,” you say as you settle your gaze on your sweet girl. “At least she’ll sleep through the night.”

“She doesn’t let you sleep?” the woman laughs as she looks down again.

“She uses the bathroom at least three times a night most nights… and every time, she bellows for me- poor thing is scared of the dark,” you sigh. “Even with all of the nightlights we have around. And then she’s up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Sounds like a six year old,” Melissa laughs. “Well, I guess I should get going. School tomorrow and everything.”

You nod and take Ellie off of her. Your little girl scrunches her nose in her sleep, and you pray she doesn’t wake up. If she does, it’ll be at least another twenty minutes before your neighbor can leave for the night. Thankfully, she settles into your hold, clinging to your shirt.

“Goodnight, Mel,” you say softly. “Thank you again for helping us out today.”

“Have her ready to go at the same time tomorrow,” Melissa instructs. “I’ll take her in while you do whatever you have to get done tomorrow.” You go to protest. “And I will not be taking no for an answer.”

You close your eyes and huff. “Okay.”

The next few days continue on the same way, with Melissa taking you and Ellie to and from the school. It’s very kind of her to do. The three of you have meals together, and you and Melissa have started cooking together.

On Friday, you finish your DoorDashing shift a bit early, bike your way back to the apartment complex, and pick up Melissa’s car. You grab the things that you want to place on the desks before heading out. You pull in and get buzzed into the school.

The secretary smiles as she sees you, handing you the badge that they’ve been promising you the entire week, and you head down to your classroom.

You set the little trinkets on the desks for your students and then head over to Melissa’s room.

The weekend is nice. The three of you actually spend most of your time together. You and Melissa take Ellie to the park, you get coffee at the redhead’s favorite little shop, and then you make dinner together. Melissa helps put your daughter to bed, and it’s all good and fine.

Come Monday, you’re a nervous wreck. Ellie is exhausted from the extravagant weekend, and she is not a happy camper. Even Melissa coming over to make breakfast can’t quite wake her up.

“Momma cannot deal with this Elizabeth,” you grit out as she squirms. 

At her full first name, your daughter pauses. Her little mouth forms into an ‘O’, and she stops her protests until it’s time to shuffle her out the door.

“I don’t wanna take the bike!” she groans and stomps her feet. “I wanna drive with Miss Mel!”

“And Momma wants to bike.”

“I don’t care!”

“Elizabeth Ruth,” you say sternly. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, attempting to ground yourself.

Melissa lays a gentle hand on your shoulder, and it’s so comforting.

“Miss Mel will take us today, but we cannot keep bumming rides off of her,” you tell your daughter. You get her into the car, and only when you’re pulling out of the garage does the redhead offer you a gentle smile.

“Hey. It’s all gonna be okay,” she tells you softly. “And you ain’t bumming rides off me. I like giving you guys rides.”

You shake your head and your hands out in attempts to soothe yourself.

“I know you’re nervous, but today is going to be just fine, you’ll be with me, and-”

“Why do you get to spend all day with Miss Mel?!” Ellie screeches from the back seat. The idea of you spending time with the redhead without her throws her into an absolute fit. She’s kicking your seat and crying, and you finally snap.

“Elizabeth Ruth!” you whip around. “Enough! I will only be with Melissa because I will be doing my job, and you’ll still get to see us both when Mrs. Howard walks you down to the staff room, and you will see her during dismissal!”

Your sharp voice makes your daughter freeze. Her tears subside, and she’s reduced to sniffles.

You soften. “I’m sorry, love. Momma’s just a bit stressed this morning.”

“It’s okay, Momma,” Ellie whimpers. “”s ‘kay.”

You feel bad for snapping on her, and when the three of you get out of the car, Ellie insists on staying by Melissa’s side.

“For today, you’re just sticking by my side and observing, but feel free to run out whenever you have to,” the redhead tells you once she’s gotten her stuff settled, and Ellie is sitting in one of the bean bag chairs in the back of the room. “If you need to make copies, continue setting up your room, use the bathroom… anything like that.”

“You nod.”

“I’m heading down to the staff lounge for some coffee and to watch the news if you want to join,” the redhead tells you. Ellie is immediately at her side and asking to be picked up, to which Melissa does immediately.

You follow them down to the lounge silently, nerves coming back full force.

The second grade teacher introduces you to her friends and tells them that you’re Ellie’s mother, but also their newest staff member.

Janine is quick to introduce herself and tell you that she’s willing to help you in any way you might need, that you’re so lucky to have Melissa as your mentor, and that your daughter is just the cutest thing.

Everyone else is just as kind, although not quite as interested in you. Barbara just smiles gently at you and nods- she already knows of you and the interest her work wife has taken on you.

The lounge time is nice, a time for you to recollect yourself, but it’s over far too soon. You walk Ellie down to her kindergarten classroom and give her a warm hug and kiss. 

“I love you, little girl,” you whisper to her, kissing her hairline.

“I love you too, Momma,” she says just as softly. She lets you go and hugs Melissa just as tightly before telling the woman that she loves her too.

Although Ellie had said it before, this one feels much more heartfelt from your little girl, and the redhead can’t help the tears that well in her eyes. “I love you too, El.”

The two of you leave your daughter with Barbara and head back to her room.

“You okay?” the redhead asks you gently.

You nod as confidently as you can, but she can read your body language. “Nervous.”

She reaches for your hand gently and squeezes it. It’s so warm, and full of comfort, and just everything you need right now. Her eyes are soft and you can see the amount of love and care that she has for you in her eyes. You swoon- almost. 

You squeeze hers back, as if to silently say thank you. And then neither of you let go. You just continue on down to her room, your hand in her own.

When you get there and pull apart, your cheeks turn red. You shouldn’t have held her hand the whole way down. But before you can apologize or say anything to her, one of the kids is running in, so excited to tell Melissa all about her day after school yesterday.

You retreat back to her back table where your things are and sigh. You watch her handle this child with so much care, but it’s just not the same as when it’s Ellie. It melts your heart that you now know that your girl has a special place in her heart. But at the same time, it makes it so much more complicated- your feelings for her. 

This is going to be interesting.

[wannabevampire]

omgomgomg poly!mattfrank x avenger!reader smut based on reader getting sprayed by sex pollen PLS PLS PLS this is getting me dead

i actually can’t stop thinking about this omg…i’ve never written a sex pollen fic before! (which feels kinda surprising because of my well documented desperation kink??)

18+ MDNI (sex pollen, hard!domfrank + soft!dom matt, degradation, dumbification, little bit of praise, desperation, edging + orgasm denial, crying in a good way!, squirting)

i am DYING to write poly!mattfrank because that would just be such a hot dynamic. i’m thinking soft dom matt and hard dom frank…yes please. they’d both be so good at degradation, but they would have entirely different approaches.

☆~Soft!Dom Matt Murdock

“Aw look at my poor baby, always so pathetic and needy. She just can’t help herself Frank. Desperate little slut doesn’t know what to do without us. Just need me to make all the decisions for you isn’t that right? It’s not your fault that you can’t do anything with that dumb baby brain of yours. You just let me and Frank to take care of you, okay princess?”

☆~Hard!Dom Frank Castle

“God look at yourself, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as pathetic are you darling. Just a dumb cock hungry slut who can’t function without being told what to do. If only everyone could see how brain dead and submissive you get the moment Matt and I have you alone. Not so independent and demanding now are you sweetheart?”

and the way it would just get SO MUCH MORE INTENSE once they realize this is more than your normal levels of desperation and you’ve been sprayed with sex pollen.

normally frank edges you for a WHILE before he lets you think about cumming, this man loves orgasm denial because he loves how desperate and pathetic it makes you. but the sex pollen has made you about 50x more desperate for them than you would normally be after 2 hours of orgasm denial.

Matt wouldn’t even bother with teasing you, he can be mean, but not that mean. At the end of the day he still just wants to make you feel good and take care of you.

But if we’re being honest Frank definitely still tries to edge you. He doesn’t care how pathetic you already are, he wants to see how desperate he can get you before you break. But Matt can tell that you truly can’t handle it in your current state and puts Frank in his place.

The sex would be so filthy and desperate. Like the sex pollen would have you absolutely insatiable, no matter how many times you came you still wanted more. But you would be so sensitive and constantly on the verge of cumming. It would be so easy for them to make you cum and they would have such a fun time playing with “their little fuck toy”!!

Also have such a vivid image of Matt holding you against his chest while Frank fucks you. Matt would whisper praise into your ear while making sure you can’t run from Franks dick. He would stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and pinch your nipples when he could sense you calming down.

“Oh you’re doing such a good job princess, such a good girl for me and Frank. Letting him pound that fucking pussy and taking every inch of his cock. Bet you’re gonna make such a pretty mess cumming all over that dick while you let me play with you.”

You’re crying at this point, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. Frank doesn’t let up, fucking you hard and making sure to hit your g spot every time. He’d smirk down at you, proud of how much he and Matt ruined you.

“Is my pathetic little slut gonna gush all over my cock? Gonna cum while Matt holds you and destroy that fucking pussy? Give it to me darling, show me what it looks like when a desperate whore cums after being fucked stupid.”

After so much stimulation and cumming so many times you can’t stop yourself from squirting all over Franks dick. Soaking both of you while he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Not bothering to stop as tears stream down your face and you continue gushing on his cock. Your screams of pleasure muffled by Matt’s hand. Frank doesn’t let up until he cums inside you.

The aftercare would also be amazing!! Making sure you were as comfortable as possible and checking that the degradation wasn’t too much. There would most likely also be an extremely awkward doctors trip to make sure the sex pollen had no long lasting side effects and that you were safe & healthy!

..

Okay this is my first drabble in a while so go easy on me! not proof read so It’s not the best but I had fun and it’s SUCH A HOT CONCEPT!!! hope you enjoyed ☆♡

xoxo,

allie 🕊️

[suzukiblu]

I just read the maws bonding ficlets from the start. It’s so cute. Just immediate child acceptance. Clark is going “so I’m a dad now” no questions asked.

no questions only dad.

“I like the name,” Superboy mumbles into his chest, just barely shy about it. Conner mumbles into his chest. Clark feels an overwhelming warmth in his own thrumming heart and smiles helplessly, then gives Lois the soft, besotted look he can’t hold back. They have a baby. It’s so great. Conner is so great. He and Lois have a baby and he's great!

Lois turns very red, for some reason, then straightens up and shoves her phone back in her pocket as she clears her throat. 

“Conner James Lane-Kent,” she decides firmly, putting her hands on her hips. “I’d say ‘Olsen’ for the middle name but ‘James’ we can sell as a coincidence easier when we’re figuring out how to explain . . . literally all of this. Any of this. This is going to be very difficult to explain, actually, given the fact you two are functionally identical. Hm. Yeah, the cover’s gonna require some work.” 

“We’ll figure something out,” Clark hums unconcernedly, nuzzling Conner’s hair. Conner bites him, then jumps up and wraps himself around him like a supernaturally strong koala. Clark rumbles happily–his kid likes him!–and Conner starts purring just as happily. Clark feels even warmer. 

“. . . also you two can never do that out of costume,” Lois says. “Like, ever.” 

“Hm?” Clark glances back at her, a little puzzled. “Why not?” 

“Clark,” Lois says, staring at him. “The sounds you two are making right now sound like if a mantis shrimp was trying to explain color theory. Those aren’t even sounds, I’m pretty sure, our senses just don’t know how else to translate them.” 

“I think my fillings are buzzing,” Jimmy agrees thoughtfully, poking at his own cheek. “Feels kinda weird.” 

“But Conner’s so cute when he purrs,” Clark says, trying not to pout at the idea of telling his kid he can’t purr whenever he wants to. Conner purrs louder and bites him again. It’s the most adorable thing that’s ever happened in the entire history of the universe. In the entire history of any universe. Like, all those alternate realities they saw only wish that anything that adorable had ever happened to them.

“That sounds like purring to you?!” Lois asks incredulously. 

“Yes,” Clark says, a little puzzled. “Why, what does it sound like to you?” 

“A rockslide causing a ten-car pile-up,” Lois says frankly. 

“And you sound like somebody made a pack of tigers fight a whale,” Jimmy says. 

“I don’t think tigers do packs,” Clark says, frowning consideringly and hooking Conner into a headlock as the other tries to claw his face off in the cutest possible fashion. “Do they?” 

“I don’t think so, but lions’ roars aren’t as bone-jarring and viscerally terrifying to hear up close as tigers’,” Jimmy says. “So I went with the scarier one.” 

“Pa’s not scary!” Conner protests indignantly, scowling at Jimmy, and Clark feels warm all over again and hugs him harder. Well–tightens the headlock, anyway. Same difference. He really was so worried about being a weapon, being something dangerous, being . . . 

He can’t imagine ever worrying about that again, when Metropolis turned its lights off for him and Lois and Jimmy both trust him even knowing what he’s become in other realities and Conner knew it was safe to come and find him. 

And when he’s looking at Conner, he can’t feel like any kind of a “weapon” at all. 

No. Not even a little bit. 

“Clark’s not scary, no, but the sound of a pack of tigers fighting a whale is,” Jimmy says. “The rockslide and ten-car pile-up is a little unsettling too, to be honest. Like, much less so, but it’s still on the radar there.” 

“No it’s not, it’s precious,” Clark says, then starts preening Conner’s ruffled curls into some semblance of order again. Well . . . a vague impression of it, anyway. Maybe. Kind of. 

A bit. 

. . . possibly that’s a fool’s errand, but whatever. He’s willing to put the effort in for his kid, fool’s errand or not.

[sweetmarmalade]

Hi 👋 I was wondering if you could write a drabble about kuroo or Sugawara comforting their s/o who is crawling under tasks and responsibilities +is going through writing block

Have a nice day/night !

Hi hi!! I'm sorry I'm so late... Hope you'll like the drabble I wrote..

Kuroo comforting reader

The glow of your computer screen felt like it was mocking you as you stared at the empty document. The weight of deadlines, unfinished tasks, and expectations pressed heavily on your shoulders, making it impossible to think straight. Writer’s block had hit you hard, and with everything piling up, you felt utterly stuck.

You hadn’t even noticed Kuroo until he was standing beside you, his presence immediately grounding. “You’ve been sitting here for hours, babe,” he said softly, concern laced in his voice. He reached down, brushing a thumb over the crease in your forehead, trying to smooth it out. “What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in your chair. “There’s too much. I have so much to do, but I can’t focus. I can’t write, and nothing’s coming out right.”

Kuroo knelt down beside you, resting his hands on your knees as he met your gaze. His sharp eyes softened, taking in your exhausted expression. “You’re being way too hard on yourself.” He gave your knee a comforting squeeze. “You’ve been working nonstop. Of course, you’re stuck—you need a break.”

“But there’s no time,” you muttered, your voice tight. “I need to finish everything, and I’m already so far behind.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Kuroo said, his voice low and steady. “No one can function like that, not even you. You’re amazing, but even amazing people need rest.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. “How about we close the laptop, order some takeout, and just relax for a bit? You’ll be able to focus better once you’ve had time to breathe.”

You hesitated, but the warmth in his eyes melted away your resistance. “But what if I don’t finish in time?”

Kuroo gave you that signature smirk, the one that somehow always made everything feel lighter. “You will. And even if you don’t, we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this.”

"Thank you love", your eyes glisten.

"Always."

---

Sugawara comforting reader

The sound of your fingers tapping on the keys filled the quiet room, though the document in front of you remained frustratingly empty. Writer’s block had set in hard, and with everything else you had to do, you felt like you were drowning under the weight of your responsibilities.

Sugawara slipped into the room quietly, his soft footsteps barely noticeable over your frustrated sighs. Without saying a word, he placed a cup of tea on the desk beside you, his fingers grazing yours briefly.

“Thought you might need this,” he said gently, his warm, reassuring smile pulling you from your thoughts. His eyes softened as he looked at the blank screen. “Having a rough time?”

You nodded, sinking into your chair. “I just… I can’t do this. There’s too much, and I can’t even write. It feels like everything’s falling apart.”

Sugawara’s brow furrowed, and he pulled a chair next to yours, sitting down beside you. “I’ve seen you tackle tough things before, and you always manage. But you’re also human. It’s okay to feel stuck sometimes.” His hand found yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“I don’t have time to be stuck, though,” you said, your voice cracking under the pressure you were feeling. “There’s so much I need to finish.”

Sugawara tilted his head slightly, his gentle eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve been doing your best, and that’s enough. But right now, you’re overwhelmed, and no one can work like that.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “How about we step away for a while? Take a break, clear your head, and come back when you’re ready.”

You glanced at the mountain of tasks still looming over you. “I don’t know if a break will help. I feel so stuck…”

“It will help,” he assured you softly. “You need to give yourself the space to breathe. You don’t have to do everything all at once. One step at a time, okay? And I’ll be right here with you for every step.”

Sugawara beside you, his unwavering support easing your worries, the impossible tasks ahead didn’t seem quite as daunting.

(a/n: I'm sorry if there's any mistake, I'm really tired rn... Sorry T-T)

[frvnkcastles]

WATCH THE DAYS PASS ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Stuck in a depressive episode, you can’t get out of bed and Frank is right there to cuddle you through it.

Warnings: Depression, brief mention of suicide ideation, hurt/comfort, cuddles <3

Word count: 849

Author’s note: I’m back! I’ve been feeling really guilty for not posting for a few weeks and the reason why I haven’t is exactly what I wrote about here,, I’m just depressed and trying my best to stay alive instead of throwing in the towel. Could realllllly use some Frank cuddles rn. I promise to try and get to your requests soon! <3

A sigh escaped your mouth as you rolled onto your right side and felt the mattress flex under your movements. Through the crack in the curtains you had kept closed all day, you could see the sun was beginning to descend and welcome night into the city, and an ember of guilt for having spent the whole day in bed burned in the pit of your stomach.

You held yourself to the highest standard when it came to being a functioning part of society. It was even easier to be hard on yourself when you shared a life with the Punisher — while your boyfriend was out getting justice for innocent people, cleaning up the streets of the worst scum imaginable, you were doing what exactly? Laying in bed, neglecting the work that had been piling up on you all week, not to even mention seeing friends, taking a shower or eating. You couldn’t even bring yourself to do that.

In fact, you couldn’t even cry about it. The urge made you choke, but the tears wouldn’t come. You were both overwhelmed and numb all at once and it was a terrible, rotten feeling that you wished would leave you alone with all the little might you had left in you.

”Hey”, Frank’s gruff voice emerged from the doorway, and lifting your disheveled head from the pillows, you looked over to where your beloved was standing and tried to give him a smile. It was far from convincing, but he still mirrored the expression and stepped closer to the bed. ”Okay if I lay down with you, sweetheart?”

As soon as you had nodded, Frank was moving over to his side of the bed, with the mattress taking a dip as he gently laid down next to you. He opened his arms wide for you and you didn’t hesitate to crawl up against him, your head on his chest as he wrapped you in a warm embrace and left a kiss on the top of your head.

You were both silent for a while, but eventually, you spoke up in a meek tone. ”Thank you”, you squeaked, and with a quiet tut, Frank disagreed with your words.

”Don’t gotta thank me, sweet girl. ’M just here to do what I can”, he spoke with a gravelly promise, and squeezing him tighter, you nodded. ”You’ll lemme know if there’s anythin’ you need, yeah?” Frank added, and repeating your nod, you tilted your head so you could kiss his jawline.

”Just cuddles for now, please”, you whispered, and with a low chuckle, Frank ran his hand up and down your arm.

”Think I can do that.”

Peace and quiet ensued again, and you nearly dozed off in Frank’s arms while he drew gentle patterns on your skin, his calloused fingertips feeling like home. For a brief, fleeting moment, you didn’t want to die, you didn’t feel like you were being consumed by the darkness. He, as ironic as it was, was your guiding light and something to hold onto on your toughest days.

”You told me once… yeah, you, uh… you told me you feel guilty when you have a rough day”, Frank piped up eventually, and swallowing at the accurate statement, you waited for him to continue. ”I need ya to know that it’s bullshit. Not that you feel that way, it’s… it’s real, I know. But the part where you think you’re doin’ somethin’ wrong. You hear me? You’re doin’ what you can and there ain’t a single thing wrong with that”, he explained, his usual stern tone mixed with genuine affection and care for you. He may have sounded almost angry, but you knew he wasn’t. He was just… passionate. Yes, about you.

”A part of me knows that. And another, bigger part thinks I’m the worst person in the world for—for not showering, for not cooking, for not doing more”, you sighed. You knew that if there was anyone you could talk to about how you really felt, it was Frank. He never judged, but always made you feel safe and understood.

”Hey, listen to me. You’re survivin’. That’s what matters. Whatever it takes to make it through the day, that’s the most important thing you could be doin'”, he reminded, his voice gruff and low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. ”Sometimes you gotta take it day by day. Sometimes minute by minute. Whatever it takes, got that? You’re fuckin’ brave. And strong. I adore the hell out of you”, Frank went on, and you tried so damn hard not to cry. He may not have been a big talker most of the time, but when he was, he knew exactly what to say.

”I adore you”, you murmured in return, and chuckling, Frank left a kiss on your temple.

”And ’m one lucky asshole for that”, he rumbled. ”Maybe tomorrow will be better, yeah? For now… just be with me, huh?”

You nodded and lifted his hand up to your mouth so you could kiss his knuckles. ”I would love nothing more.”

[naomi-the-red]

I have a problem with how people represent Lightweavers and the “strangeness” of their oaths. Lightweavers’ oaths are actually no different functionally than anyone else’s, I just don’t think people understand the point of the oaths as a general.

I’m glad the Say the Words videos exist because I feel they get at this, especially in regards to the Lightweavers, but the whole point of the oaths is to protect people against the worst of that persons nature. What those oaths will shape like and be in phrasing, depends on the order and history of the radiant speaking them, but they all do the same thing—hold them accountable.

Windrunners by their nature can be self-righteous as hell. They have to be reminded that they don’t get to pick and choose who deserves their protection. They protect so long as it is right.

Skybreakers are all about the law and justice, they get reigned in by holding the law as a foundation but that they need to remember that law doesn’t always equal justice; it’s just the best baseline Skybreakers have to start from. That whole “become the law” business of the fifth ideal sounds scary, but it’s their fifth ideal, they aren’t getting there willy nilly. By that point they should well understand why the law exists, and they need to be able to rise above it when the law itself is unjust.

So what about Lightweavers? Why are their oaths so superficially different? Because a Lightweavers nature is to lie to themselves and everyone around them. Both sides of their powers can literally meld illusion and reality. Delusional thinking is an inevitability with that power set, let alone those inclined to it. Lightweavers need to be honest with themselves because if they can’t, they will lose themself to their unrealities.

Why did I say ‘unrealities’ and not lies? Because this is another level people do not respect Lightweavers. They are not liars, they are mythmakers. It is not necessarily about deception but telling truth through lies. They are so close to Truthwatchers for a reason, but where the Truthwatchers find the truth in fact, Lightweavers find the truth in fiction. It’s not a lie, it’s an unreality.

I’ll let PL Travers, author of Mary Poppins, explain through a paraphrasing of her article ‘The World of the Hero’:

“The word myth, for example, is largely accepted and used as something synonymous with lie. 'It's a myth, we say, meaning something that is not to be believed, a tarradiddle, a tall story, an impossibility. Even the Concise Oxford Dictionary describes it as a fictitious idea. I would rather have said 'unverifiable… for whether we know it or not, we all—like the Hero—live in myth.

…We go to the myths not so much for what they mean as for our own meaning. Who am I? Why am I here? How can I live in accordance with reality?

Now, this problem of meaning can literally overwhelm us.

…The myths never have a single meaning, once and for all and finished. They have something greater; they have meaning itself. If you hang a crystal sphere in the window it will give off light from all parts of itself, That is how the myths are; they have meaning for me, for you, and for everyone else. A true symbol has always this multisidedness. It has something to say to all who approach it.

…Take as an instance the story of Galileo.

Galileo is not a myth; he is in all the history books where you will read the undoubted fact that at a time when it was believed that the sun moved round the earth, Galileo dared to assert that the very opposite was true, that the earth moved round the sun. Under pressure, however, and on pain of death, he was forced to deny his truth. Thus he was able to save his life; but as he turned away from recanting he muttered firmly into his beard: 'Eppur si muove'

- Nevertheless, it moves. The story is known to everyone. Galileo is famous for the 'Eppur si muove'; but the recantation of his recantation has nowhere been recorded. How could it have been?

The only people near enough to hear it were his inquisitors, and had they heard it, his fat would have been in the fire. He never said 'Eppur si muove' - except, of course, in his accurate heart.

But in its unconscious shaping of the hero, the folk required that it be said, the story required that it be said; the truth had somehow to be told that Galileo was not a liar. So, mythologically, Galileo was required to say it. It is a truth but it is not a fact.”

It is a truth, but it is not a fact.

That is the realm of the Lightweavers.

[hydr0phius-art]

Painting Chiss Skin

Before I start this, I’m just going to say that I attempted to do an in depth version of this part and then stopped and did dot points because it was too overwhelming. 

A lot of what’s in here can be applied to different body parts. Some of it may also be applied to traditional art, but most of this is for digital art. This post focuses on faces. Eyes and scars will be another post that'll hopefully follow this one relatively quickly.

Picking colours (and some other tips)

> Experimenting is good!

> There’s blood beneath skin and it’s going to show through at different intensities based on what your lighting is doing. I’m assuming Chiss blood is red, so I usually make any blush on my Chiss purple. (Red + blue = purple. Basic colour mixing thingz, you know?)

> The fairer the Chiss’ skin is, the more vibrant you can be with that purple blush in my opinion.

> Temperature, colour, and intensity of light determines what the skin looks like. 

> Having black shadows on a coloured artwork is a good way to flatten the whole piece; when I paint shadows on a Chiss face, I go for a dark blue or purple and blend it with what’s already on the canvas. Playing with layers and their opacity function is also good.

> Laying down a base blue before starting with the rest of the colours is good. You can see that I did that in the speedpaint I’ve attached to the end of this post.

> This website about colour zones will help.

> This website about colour blocking will also help.

References

> I find a face reference of an actor I want to Chiss-ify. Then I have my blue skin reference, which is usually one of the Na’vi from Avatar.  

> I use the Na’vi because there’s a lot of images available with variation with temperature of light and quality of light to observe. 

> Make note of the colours that appear in their flesh as light interacts with it. 

> Warm light will have pink that transitions to purple, then to blue as shadow starts to come back in. I’ve put Ar’alani next to the reference I took inspiration from (link here) for comparison.

> You want to go and paint your reference as it is, except blue. When you get to adding highlights and shadows, look at the Na’vi image and see what colours appear in that light. 

I think that’s pretty much all I do when I paint Chiss. Here’s a speedpaint of Thrawn with Lee Pace as a face claim if that helps somewhat :3

(Ignore how I erased his uniform; I could NOT be bothered with that sorry).

Also, Here are some artworks that helped me when I was figuring this out. I’ve done a bit of analysis that might or might not be helpful. Take what you like from it.

Magali Villeneuve

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A post shared by Magali Villeneuve (@magali_villeneuve)

In my opinion, Villeneuve’s Thrawn portraits are the best official artworks of him that we have right now. They’re my main go-to for inspiration. The lighting plays across the skin in a way that gives it a fleshy, warm, alive feel. Even the colour zones are present, which gives it that extra bit of depth. If you can’t see them, that’s fine; it takes a bit of time to get used to looking for them.

Rod Reis

The first of Reis’ Alliances cover is also up there with good official Thrawn art we’ve had fairly recently, imo. His style is different to Villeneuve’s, but he follows the same processes with the colour zones and how the skin interacts with the environment around it. The shadows aren’t flat or black; they have colour to them that adds more dimension to the portrait. There’s also that hint of purple-blue blush around his cheeks with more yellowy-blue tones on his forehead and more blue tones around his jaw and chin (again, colour zones are present :3). The light is cooler than Villeneuve’s in the Chaos Rising Portrait, which you can see in the lighter teal hue on the right side of his face. Cool light usually brings out the lighter blue tones in the skin (that’s just what I’ve noticed, though).

And that's it! If anyone has questions, feel free to ask them :3 I'll try and get this eye post out soon <3

[bbyseok]

like a moth to a flame

pairing: dabi x reader

cw: villain dabi, pro hero reader, gender neutral reader but dabi calls reader “doll” because i’m obsessed, mentions of passing out, blood, and violence, dabi kinda uses his quirk on reader/slight burning, extremely suggestive/borderline smut, slight dubcon, mild humiliation/degradation, marking/biting, mild choking, kissing n groping, i think that’s all

analysis: when an attack on the league goes wrong, you suddenly find yourself like moth to a flame.

a/n: this is entirely horikoshi’s fault blame him and his latest sketch of dabi for this bc i seriously wasn’t able to function after seeing it ANDDD bc dabi’s dance was so good animated like ugh

———

it’s too dark to see anything. it’s so, so dark, engulfing you and whatever’s around. now, normally, the darkness doesn’t deter you. you can see through it sometimes, but your vision spins and blurs.

you can feel coarse dirt underneath your arms as you crawl forward to nothingness. “fuck.” the simple curse escapes you gruffly and you can somewhat open your eyes a bit more.

the voices of the other heroes reign somewhere in the distance and you can faintly hear the creaking and splintering of branches. the roar of flames is overwhelming.

“fuck,” you hiss once more, pushing yourself to at least stumble up somehow, and the night sky’s faint luminance is now streaming in.

you must’ve passed out or something—the fresh smell of fire reaches your nostrils and you burst into dry coughs. you can literally taste the smoke in your throat and it’s awful.

it had been a carefully articulated and planned attack on the league of villains. after going through some suspicious reports and sightings, based on some other inside information, the commission decided it was time to snuff them out.

at least three organized patrols had been assigned—with some of the top heroes accompanying and a good majority of the police force on standby.

it seemed like everything was going to go well. the heroes supposedly had all the cards in their hands. until something with the main patrol came up—there were more targets not on the capture list, the police were no longer on standby and your radios were going crazy with static and voices.

and your patrol had been split up when things had went wrong.

once you’re finally standing, you register the bright blueness of the flames that surround you—it drowns out the shadows of the night and it has you wincing from the heat. thankfully, you’re not in the frenzy of the fire.. but the scorch is nearly blistering.

it’s clear that one of the league members had the woods to his advantage—the commission had planned around it by sending heroes with water-based quirks to deflect such attacks and yet.. it seems like something had backfired. the blaze is unyielding as ever.

you wince once more and analyze yourself for any severe injuries. definitely some scratches and bruises, probably some sore (or even broken) ribs but it’s nothing you can’t manage. you need to get back to the others.

smoke curls through the towering trees that aren’t burning down. despite the ache in the back of your head and everything else in your body screaming at you, you make your way through the greenery that isn’t alight, trying to listen to the sounds of the nearby battle.

“well, well, well.. aren’t you a bit far off from your friends, little hero?” there’s a voice that calls out to you, low and snickering. it stands out amongst the chaos. “are you lost?”

fuck.

the last thing you wanted was to run into the criminal behind all this fire—and just your luck. you’ve never met the infamous arsonist before despite your line of work, but you’ve read the files, seen the videos, took in the very little information of him. dabi. and you freeze in place, wary as you glance around.

you can’t pinpoint where his voice came from, and then he’s speaking again. “scared?” it’s paired with that mocking laugh. he sounds like a predator that’s caught his prey.

and dammit, right now, you are his prey.

you know he’s taunting you, trying to provoke you—and it’s working, alright. “the only one scared right now is you-!” you reply defiantly, still scanning your surroundings, “you’re the one hiding, you damn coward!”

there’s the noise of a fresh searing wave of heat behind you and you hiss in alarm, twisting on your heel to see if he’s there—only to be met with no one still. fuck, he’s toying with you.

“why are you even here?” you protest, hands balled up into fists as you continue to slowly turn around. “shouldn’t you be helping out your fellow league members?”

for a while, he doesn’t answer over the crackles and pops of the fire. and then he laughs again. “ah, they’ll be just fine without me for a while!” he declares, “and i just couldn’t help myself when i saw a little lost mouse like you wandering about.”

something sends tingles down your back but you have no time to decide what it is when you hear him behind you again. but you’re too late to react, and you’re shoved face first back into the ground.

dabi laughs again; it’s a sickening sound and you can hear the tainted delight in it. and to your horror, you realize that—his stupid fucking laugh—is what sends shivers down your spine.

there’s weight being pressured on your lower back and a surge of humiliation washes over you when you realize he’s stepping on you. you squirm in resistance.

“can’t say that i’ve seen your face before, doll,” he coos as he leans forward. you yelp in pain as the heel of his boot digs sharply into your back. “won’t you tell me your name?”

with a scowl and a shout of frustration, you manage to push him off and scramble back onto your feet. “fuck you! like i’d ever tell you!”

when you’re facing him again, your stomach twists. there’s a predatory smirk on his lips and the heat from the flames tousles his hair. “ah, don’t worry! ‘m sure i’ll get you to tell me one way or another.”

you lunge for him, aiming to attack and catch him off guard but he maneuvers to the side. his arm raises up in the corner of your peripheral and you narrowly dodge a blast of his flames.

your feet nearly slip when you face him again but he’s rushing forward on the offensive—you scream in terror once you see his hand aimed right for your head but then-

his hand wraps around your throat, and there’s that menacing grin on his face again—like he wants to eat you alive and leave nothing left.

“oh, doll.” his laugh is still taunting and raspy. the sound curls and tickles your abdomen and you shiver just hearing it—oh god, it shouldn’t be affecting you like this, he shouldn’t be affecting you like this. “shouldn’t you be fighting me?”

his movements are too fucking quick—his legs move forward and yours backward and you fucking whimper once your back slams against a tree that’s somehow still standing.

the noise has a flicker of surprise and thrill flitting over dabi’s face. and then his wicked smirk grows as he leans in. “you like this, don’t you, doll?”

you want to say that you don’t—you had whimpered because of the pain and that you’d rather throw yourself in the fire around you before admitting that. but you’re hyper aware of the hand around your throat and the knee between your thighs and you can’t fucking think.

it must be written all over your face because he tightens his grip ever so slightly and drawls, “oh, you do.”

your blood is rushing because fuck, he’s right.

“f-fuck off,” you wheeze out, your hands braced against his chest in a half-assed attempt to keep him at bay—but his unspoken threat of burning right through your throat hangs in the air. “let me.. go.”

“but you like this,” he insists menacingly. his shifts his knee even higher and you can’t help but gasp. “the little hero caught by me. look at you, doll, squirming on my thigh so helpless.”

his words have your cheeks heating up. mortified by your body’s responsiveness, you struggle again.

“don’t do that, doll,” he growls in warning, “or else.”

there’s heat emitting from his palm and you can feel your skin burning slightly—it fucking hurts but he’s controlling the heat with precision and the realization of you being completely at his mercy makes you melt.

when he retracts his hand back, the singe on your skin makes you feel lightheaded. “there,” dabi clicks his tongue in satisfaction, “your pretty neck is all marked up.”

and then he’s tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking it roughly so that your lips meet his. his other hand tugs at the remains of your hero costume to feel your body underneath his rough fingertips.

instinctively, you try to resist but once his hand tugs your hair again, you can’t help but reciprocate his forced kiss. in some sort of way of retaliation, you bite at his lip as hard as you can, tasting blood.

he pulls back with a hiss. and yet, his tongue swipes at the scarlet dotting his lower lip, and you try to squeeze your legs together at the sight. he doesn’t miss the action—and his leg presses even more. his bright blue eyes gleam and he snarls. “why don’t i make you bleed instead, doll?”

you open your mouth to snap back but he ducks his head down and you feel his teeth against the tender skin of your neck. a cry rips from you as he continues on to mark up your collarbone with bites.

“what would your allies think?” he mocks you, his nose skimming up along your throat. he sneers against your jawline, “your friends? your family? a hero like you abandoning those who need your help right now to have some fun with a villain like me?”

his words are making your head throb.. you should be fighting back, should be throwing him off and subduing him. you should be putting him behind bars and locking him up where he belongs. but all the sensations on your body say otherwise.

“just- just shut up and kiss me,” you gasp, half demanding, half pleading. one of your hands grab the back of his neck to pull him to you but he leans back, sneering once again.

“no, no, doll- you’re not gonna have your way just like that.” dabi grips your thigh and suddenly hoists it up—painfully without warning so you can feel him. “answer my question.”

a soft moan leaves your lips. the shame burns much hotter than his flames and it’s taking everything in you to look at him in the eye.

“i- i-” you stammer, unable to find the words to answer him. they’d be ashamed of you, of course. helplessly falling into this trap and savoring this villain’s touch.

“they’d be so proud of you, wouldn’t they?” dabi supplies, grinning at the mess he’s made you. “you just melt when i get my hands on you, doll. so pathetic.”

another moan resonates from your throat and he chuckles in devilish delight. “c’mon, hero,” he purrs and his hips suddenly roll forward once. “i wanna hear you say it.”

“i’m-” his movement is all you can focus and fuck, everything feels so hot. the flames, your body, him. you feel like you’re drowning in heat and the shame makes your heart lurch. “i’m pathetic-”

“that’s right,” he hisses, and you whimper in pain again when his calloused fingers yank down on your hair. his teeth clash against yours and you can feel the staples along his tongue—the kiss is all messy and you think you’re going to pass out again.

when he finally relents and pulls back, his dark gaze is captivating, promising. “won’t you tell me your name now, doll?”

oh, he’s going to burn you. your name, your reputation, your body, your heart, your everything.

and like a moth to a flame, you let him.

you tell him your name.

[girlboypersonthingy]

request for sal fisher x reader!! so idea one, coffee shop au, sal works at reader's fave coffee shop and they fall in lovee. or second ideaa reader is popular cheerleader who developes a crush on sal.

YEESSSSSSS FINALLYYYYYYY MY FIRST SALLY FACE REQUEST! I’m stoked rn 😆 I’m so in love with Sal, it’s not normal ✨ I’m obsessed with the barista x regular, daily customer trope, fuck yeah! Too cute! Enjoy~

TW: none really, just very fluffy and silly

Notes: Posted recently about how I wanted to write more fics where reader has a stutter bc I have a stutter so reader stutters in this fic 🥹 ah my heart is so full. Also, trying to write out how I stutter is very difficult…

UPDATE: part 2 is in the works!

Sal x reader- Coffee Shop AU ☕️💙

Coffee is a must. Coffee is a necessity. You just can’t function without it. So, of course that’s your first stop of the day every morning before you get started with your day. It’s worth getting up 30 minutes earlier just to sit and enjoy some caffeine and maybe a little snack while listening to music, checking emails, staring out the window, same old same old. It was a very repetitive start to your day…and you’re not sure if you like that or not. It is kind of nice to have a set routine every day and know what to expect each morning but…it’s quickly growing old. Maybe you should change up your drink order? Maybe sit in a different spot? Maybe both? We’ll see.

As you open the double doors of the coffee shop and step inside, warm air rushes up to you as does the smell of coffee, sweet syrups and savory pastries. Normally, you walk straight up to the counter, knowing exactly what you want. Depending on who takes your order, they even sometimes know your usual drink and know you by name. But today, you’re gonna change it up, remember? So let’s take a look at the drink menu, let’s look at the other food options too.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Morning! Just give me sec. I’ll be right with you.” A familiar voice calls out to you, a worker who you interact with often. He was nice, patient and polite. “Okay!” You stood up at the register now, patiently waiting as you tried to recite your new order in your head, making sure you get it all out correctly. Your phone buzzes, catching your attention for a split second. You glance down to check your notifications just as you hear that same familiar voice call out, “Sal! Sorry, dude. I’m trying to fix this faucet. Can you get that customer-“ And before the barista could continue, a deeper voice interrupted. “Yeah, I gotchu. No worries.”

As soon as this new barista was face to face with you, all thoughts of coffee went out the window. Wow. Geez. This is a lot to take in at once. His voice is…so nice. He’s got really cool hair. Is he…wearing a mask? Your eyes fell to his hands, his big hands with nails painted a deep blue color. Then you looked back to his face. His mask? His…face???

“Uh…you ready to order?” He speaks up, making you nearly gasp. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. Uh…can I get the w-….“ Just breathe. “Sorry, the w-w-“ The long pauses between your stuttering make him reach up and touch his cheek before softly mumbling, “It’s okay. It’s a prosthetic…if that’s what’s tripping you up.” He gestures to his face and now you’re blushing furiously, mostly because you’re embarrassed and a bit ashamed for staring but also holy shit, his voice is so nice.

“No, no! I’m sorry, I’m-m-“ And your confidence is slipping away every second you stand here, pathetically crumbling apart in front of this amazingly overwhelming stranger.

“Are you n-new?” You’re almost shouting now, unable to control your nerves. He nods, his blue hair shifting along with his movements. “I thought so. I mean, you’re doing great! I’ve just never seen you…before.” You notice his eyes squint, making you smile a bit. “Yeah, just started a couple days ago. I worked at a few different coffee shops before this so I kinda know the ropes. But, yeah this place is cool.” You nod along, nervously tapping your fingers on the counter. “Do you…usually work mornings?” You inquire, knowing that’s when you usually visit the shop. “Uh-huh” He nods again, leaning against the counter that separates you two. “Cool. Cool. Cool. Awesome. Then I’ll be seeing you often. I come in the m-m…early.” The way you cope with being stuck on a word, just using a synonym that is easier to say, earns a soft laugh from him, making your knees buckle under you because what a fucking cutie he is. Face or no face, doesn’t matter because everything else about him is so charming.

“So, uh…your order?” He pushes off the counter and looks at the computer screen in front of him, waiting for your response. You end up ordering your usual, excluding the food. You’re just too shaken up, too nervous, too excited to focus. Whatever. “And your name?” He finally looks back to you, and now you’re noticing his eyes. He’s got one bright blue eye and one that’s a more grayed out blue color.

“(Y/N).” You finally utter your name, watching as he writes it on your cup. “Cool. I’ll have it right up over there for you.” He points at the other end of the counter before walking off with your cup. Now, normally you’d go sit at the table in the corner near the big window but today, you just had to sit closer to where all the action took place. You were so intrigued by him, what a strange boy, not like anyone you’ve ever met before. You didn’t even know his name. Damn, you should’ve got his name…

“(Y/N)!” The same boy clouding up your mind calls out your name as he sets a cup down on the counter, staying in his spot as you shakily approach him. As you grab your cup, your eyes frantically search his shirt and apron for a name tag but there wasn’t one. “Have a good one.” As he turns, you panic and just blurt it out. “Whats your name?” And now your voice has him spinning on his heels, his hands quickly get shoved into his apron pockets. “Sal. Some people call me Sally.” And all you can do is stare again.

Sal. That’s nice~

“Thanks, Sal. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe?” “Yeah, same time, same place.” They eye contact lingers for just a moment and now it feels nearly impossible not to squeeze the cup in your hand and crush it completely, he’s just really getting to you right now. “Okay, cool. Have a good one.” As your voice begins to crack and betray you even further, you turn and book it out of there.

What a nice change in pace, though. Finally, something new, something different, something to look forward to. Someone to look forward to.

The next morning, you can’t wait to see him again. You want to know more about him, you need to hear his voice some more and, you must confess, you’re just dying to know more about his prosthetic and what’s underneath. Not that you’d ever rush him or pressure him into telling or showing you. But maybe you could casually mention it, test the waters…

“Morning, Sal!” You shout as you enter, heading right up to your new favorite morning person who’s already standing at the register waiting for you. “Good morning. The usual? Or are you switching it up today?” You could tell he was smiling under the prosthetic just by the way he spoke. “The usual, please.” He gets to work writing on the cup then suddenly turns away with it. “H-hey, wait! You didn’t charge me-“ “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, it’s on me today.”

You’re a bit taken aback. “What? Why?” You ask with a small smile, watching as he shrugs. “You’re just really nice to me. I appreciate it.” And he’s off to work on your drink before the conversation can continue. You’re gonna have to literally cover your face with your hands to hide your sappy, goofy, love struck expression from him.

You sit at a table close to the bar where Sal is currently grinding up fresh espresso. Everything about him is so nice to look at- the way his arms move and flex as he works, the way he carefully tips his head to the side and wipes it against his sleeve to remove any sweat, the way he focuses as he pours your drink right to the top of the cup.

Soon after, he leans across the counter to set your drink down, his eyes watching as you saunter up quickly. “Thanks, Sal.” Is all you have the courage to say right now but Sal is starting to feel the connection too. He wants to know more about you too, wants to know why you seem so shy and flustered around him, why you’re so nice and polite to him when so many other customers treat him like a freak.

“Can I…sit with you for a bit? I’m about to go on a break.” Sal’s smiling so big under his mask at the stunned expression you’re wearing right now. “Of course! Sure!” Sal follows behind you as you walk to your usual table in the corner, slowly removing his apron. You both sit quietly for a moment.

“So, are m-most the customer not very nice to you? I mean, you said I’m nice to you but I figured I was just being as decent as most people.” Your voice has him stiffening up in his seat. “Yeah, I guess most people don’t take too kindly to blue haired, masked guys who are in charge of making their food and drinks.” “I thought it was a prosthetic?” “It is.” “Right.”

A short period of silence again. “So…what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He figured that question was coming soon but he didn’t think it would be this soon. Sal strangely feels comfortable with you though, like he’s known you for much longer than a day so he decides to take a chance on you, see how you respond.

“I was attacked by a dog. Well, that’s the easy version of the story.” With a nod and a consoling smile, you think it’s best to leave it at that and change the topic but Sal just keeps going. “I was uh…I actually…” But the words won’t come out, he can’t bring himself to say it. How does one casually mention they were shot in the face?

“Hey, I’m sorry I asked. Let’s just forget it.” A reassuring smile graces your lips as you watch him look down at his own lap. “I think more people have actually seen my face than heard the story of what happened to it.” “That’s okay. I won’t ask again, promise. And…I’m sorry about whatever you had to go through.”

Your sweet words of reassurance and comfort send his heart into an abnormal rhythm as his mouth suddenly goes dry. Why are you so fucking nice? He can’t handle how sweet and kind and nice and considerate and adorable you are. He’s like 99% sure you’re just really really nice but not into him romantically, and he’s 110% sure you’re waayyyy out of his league. He might as well give up now.

Most mornings, you saw Sal at work, sometimes you didn’t. The more you two interact, the more relaxed you find yourself becoming around him. But even then, you can’t help but feel like maybe you are just romanticizing these interactions. Sure, he’s nice but he’s at work, he kinda has to be. Yeah, he talks to you for a bit at the register but that’s kinda part of the job. Maybe you’re in over your head.

Regardless, you enter the store once again, smiling uncontrollably when you catch a glimpse of his blue hair as he rushes behind the counter. As the bell of the front door chimes, Sal’s head pops up as he looks over. “Morning, (Y/N). How are you?” He continues emptying the trash can in front of him as he looks back and forth between you and the task at hand. “I’m good. How are you, Sally?” A deep sigh leaves him as he lifts the crammed trash bag out of the bin. “Busy. Short staffed. Ready to go home.” All you can offer him is a pouty bottom lip and a hum of sympathy as you near the register. “Aww. I’m sorry. I’ll make it easy for you, okay? I’ll take my usual, here’s the cash for whenever you’re ready and keep the change. Take your time, too! I’m in no rush.” You slide your money across the counter towards him.

And at that, you go to your usual spot in the corner near the window, staring outside as you daydream. Not too long later, you’re startled by Sal setting your drink on the table in front of you. “Oh! Thank you. That was nice, you didn’t have to bring it all the way over here.” You look up at him and notice a change in his body language- he can be hard to read due to his deadpan prosthetic so you’ve learned to examine his body language and tone of voice as indicators of his mood. He’s not looking at you, instead looking out the window past you, he looks like he’s more closed in on himself, more unsure of himself. Weird…

“You okay, Sal-“ “I’m going on break! See ya later.” He zips off to the break room before you can get another word in. Geez, maybe he’s just having a really bad day. Maybe he just wants to be left alone. So, you decide to cut your stay short and get going. As you stand and reach out for your cup, you notice he had brought you a napkin too. Being the good person you are, you reach to grab it and take it to the trash but then you notice…Oh god…oh. my. god. No way. He wrote his NUMBER ON THE NAPKIN AND HOLY SHIT YOU MIGHT COLLAPSE DIE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW.

You can’t help but glance up and towards the break room where Sal had just run off to, seeing him and his other coworker both peeking around the corner to see your reaction. With cheeks as red as pomegranate and a smile so big it hurts, you exaggeratedly stuff the napkin in your pocket before giving him a wave. “See you tomorrow, Sally~”

Don’t worry, as you walk out of the shop and start giggling wildly with your heart beating a million miles an hour, Sal is sliding down the wall in the break room as he clenches his shirt in his hand, literal heart eyes for you right now.

You haven’t even seen his face but you accepted his number? Shiiitttt…he’s got it baddddd for you.

[avocadofics]

Dealing with the executive function

Aizawa x autistic reader

This is for my fellow autistic. Not to romanticize asd but because we don’t have enough media design especially for us. And I want to write fanfic that I can be comforted by on days when my adhd and asd traits make it hard

Synopsis: the reader is having bad executive functions and feel shitty aizawa come home to comfort reader.

Content Warning: executive function problems, anxious thoughts, crying, mentions of forgetting to eat, self doubt. Stay safe friends

You laid on back to the floor. Giving off sighs and a few tears. You had things to do but they were the things you hated doing. You remember shota mentioned something about needing it done. So what did you do?

Spend the majority of the day fighting youself to get started doing anything. You wanted to cry.

You didn’t want to disappoint shota but you felt like you most definitely were. What time was it even? would shota be home soon to see you’ve done nothing.

Oh what about dinner. You haven’t made dinner. Each second of time just added more stress to your list. A tear or two fell from your eyes. While you were laying there crying The cat walked over and plopped himself on your chest. Choco your cat had alway been in tune with your emotions and the weight from the cat helped you breath even if just a little.

“Hey choco, you think shota is gonna be annoyed at me?”

“Mreow”

“Yeah probably not. Doent mean I can’t sit here and think that way” of course right as you started to feel slightly better was when you heard your front door open and the footsteps of you boyfriend walking.

“Why,” his voice spoke up “Are you on the floor?”

“Bad romantic partner with no emotional energy to deal with anything sit in floor. Floor make thing better” you tired looking boyfriend sat down next to you and started petting the cat.

“What’s the problem.” That one thing you appreciated about shota he was never one to beet around the bush. If he knew you were upset hed ask you once if you didn’t want to answer now he’ll ask you later.

“The Chores. All the thing you ask me to do. I spent all day fighting myself cause I hate doing them and I just did nothing today at all.” Your could feel your tears starting to get bigger in your eyes.

“When did you eat last,”

“Huh?”

“When did you eat last,”

“Breakfast I think I don’t remember if I ate lunch or not.” He gave me one of his gentle sighs and stands up.

“Okay up. I’m going to have you go lie down while I make food and do a few chores.”

“But you just got home from work and guy normally take a nap so you can feel decent enough for hero work tonight.” You say staring up at him as he stood above you.

“I’ll see if anyone can cover my zone tonight. You are overwhelmed and I’m not gonna let you deal with it alone. If I got to tired from work you would call up the school and make them give me a day off. I think me taking one night from hero work to support my partner is aloud.” He put his hand down waiting for you to grab it.

“Okay,” you grabbed his hand and he helped you up. You headed to the bedroom exhausted from fighting yourself mentally. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and opened you phone to watch something.

Shota walked in behind you where he switches his hero clothes and puts in some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt you had bought him.

After a few minutes  you smell the amazing sent of one of your safe foods. The one you’ve been talking about the last few days but just haven’t had the energy to make it. You were glad that he was taking the night off. Night where shota took time off meant cuddles and getting to rewatch shows while eating yummy food.

Shota walked in and handed you a plate. He moved his way into his side of the bed.

“Thank you shota,”

“Anytime.” You leaned into shota and he wrapped an arm around you.

[nightcolorz]

So while it’s all unbelievably angsty (I both want it so much and am begging it not to be true) I am absolutely compelled and unbelievably here for your Armand and Marius thoughts. I just want to hear ALL of them.

The idea that’s where he goes in the wake of s2 is absolutely devastating. Please tell me more about how you think that goes. How the other characters react, really anything. I never even considered it as an option and now that I am… Oh The Possibilities. What’s even going through his head that he thinks that is the choice he needs to make???

oooooo thank u for the ask hehe!! I’m a lil overwhelmed by the freedom of “just say any thoughts u have on this topic u love”, an autistic kids dream truly lmao, tyy

I’ll start with “what would be going through Armand’s head if my theory were to come true and Armand goes back to Marius in season 2”. The important factor here is that I think that Amc Armand particularly is still in love with Marius. It would be hard for him not to be, I mean Marius has played every formative role in armands life (adoptive father, vampire maker which is akin to biological father to a lot of vampires, first love and love of his life, actual master who owned him, man who saved his life, man who he considers actual God, first kiss, guy who beats tf out of him often, his only family, his caretaker, his savior, the guy who pimped him out and molested him, his past, his identity, I could go on).

So with that in mind it makes sense why Armand would not let go of his feelings for Marius easily. Despite how much he was harmed by him, and how Armand is aware that he was harmed, Marius is quite literally everything to Armand and that is incredibly difficult to just discard. But in addition to how important he is to him, Armand also likely doesn’t consider what he went through at the hands of Marius to be abuse. Obviously he knows he was abused in the brothel, but think about how he words his story when he tells it to Louis. “I was in the brothel, it was horrible, Marius saved me, he’s so good to me, he is so merciful, yes he did do these very bad things to me, but it was his right”. That is not how someone who does not love their abuser speaks about their abuse 😭. Armand doesn’t present his relationship with Marius as good, then vaguely word the trauma Marius put him through in a way that both downplays it’s reality and implies in word choice that Marius was entitled to do that, just for dramatic affect. He speaks about his past that way because that’s how he sees it!!

the way Armand perceives it, Marius sexually abusing him, though it was horrifying for him to experience and he is aware of that, was not something he is entitled to resent him for because Marius also, in addition, showed Armand mercy and kindness and care that no one in Armand’s life has ever shown him before or since, and so marius was entitled to take anything from Armand regardless of how it hurt him in return. I also think Armand has a warped view of how seriously wrong it is for people to rape and abuse him because he was taught in his very formative years in the brothel (which btw r his first memories bcus he has forgotten his entire life before that), that Armand’s purpose first and foremost is for people to have sex with him, and therefore it’s not fair of him to judge anyone for taking that from him. Over all, Armand thinks Marius was a good man who treated Armand with more kindness than anyone ever has and Armand will always love him for that.

So looking at it from Armand’s perspective, in season two he is super vulnerable, he feels like “hes nothing” as he says, because Louis left him, and Armand when he isn’t in a relationship or attaching himself to some greater purpose or system (like the cult or the coven), literally doesn’t know how to live. Bcus of his trauma he can’t function or feel safe if he isn’t submitting to something (literally or figuratively). He doesn’t trust himself to be capable of being an independent person bcus he never has been, in his life. So….after season 2 he is very desperate. He turns Daniel which other characters perceive as being both an unhinged, mentally ill move, and potentially a breaking of his core values (if an unstable person is suddenly giving up on their values that is very bad news), and now literally no one knows where he is. It definitely makes sense that if Armand is aware that Marius is alive, he thought, “hey I’m completely and utterly alone and abandoned and I feel like I can’t exist, I’m not capable of living like this bcus I’m weak and submissive and I need someone to give me a purpose, oh my god I wish things just went back to the way they were when I was a kid and my dad took care of me. My dad did abuse me but I deserved it, and he was so gentle and kind to me, and no one ever treats me like that anymore. I know he will let me stay with him if I just go back to how I used to be, which I am willing to do.” Likeee from Armand’s perspective that is a very understandable choice to make 😭 tho I’m sure one he’s very ashamed of, which would explain why he’s dropped off the face of the earth.

I think the other characters would definitely judge Armand for this 😭 and not understand it, and treat him like he’s being insane and irrational. Which I think bcus so far none of the amc iwtv characters have much empathy or understanding for Armand’s trauma and how he reacts and thinks about things bcus of it. I feel so bad for him 😭😭