#no one taught me how show emotions or even talk about them

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: I'm excited to see what's next for Buck, Eddie and Chris

Going forward, unless it's for reference purposes, I will NO LONGER post anything about BT 2.0.

Before I explain why I won't be posting anything about BT 2.0, I'll begin with a brief summary. In 2021, I watched "The Shooting" live (related post linked here) and it was one of the best scenes in television I'd ever seen. Since then, I've probably watched it more than a hundred times and during the hiatus between seasons 4 and 5, I purchased every episode of 9-1-1's previous seasons and I spent the entire summer watching seasons 2 - 4 because I wanted to know more about Buck and Eddie's relationship. I noticed the emotional and casual intimacy they shared and when I compared it to the relationships they had with love interests, it was easy to see there was a huge and noticeable difference.

My excitement for the show dramatically increased before season 5 began in September 2021 and later that year, I found the Buddie fandom here on Tumblr and I was even more excited because I didn't know fandoms for TV shows even existed. By the time April 2022 rolled around, I finally decided to rejoin Tumblr (after being off it for a while) because I wanted to communicate with people who liked Buddie and the Buckley-Diaz family.

I started out by doing small posts regarding the things I noticed but a whole knew world was opened to me after I started reading METAs fanfics and theories along with viewing GIF sets and fanart. It didn't take me long to start posting my own METAs and speculations and I when I wanted to add GIFs to my posts, I taught myself how to make them on my iPad. In January 2023, I started posting some of the fanfics I wrote during season 5 and my fandom experience was further enhanced. It was an exciting time and I loved every minute of it.

Even though Season 5 was exhausting as hell because of BT 1.0, I still enjoyed it because of Eddie's PTSD arc and the Buckley-Diaz family scenes that were included. Eddie's my favorite character and I was happy to see him moving forward with his therapy and his life in general. BT 1.0 was dragged out for the entire season but season 6 looked promising... at least it did until it ended. I spent more than three months writing "Constructive Criticism" posts about all the things I didn't like and I was on the fence about whether I was even going to watch season 7. But after the str*kes ended and the promos for the new season began airing on a new network looked promising, I was excited again especially since the original showrunner (TM) had returned from LS and I couldn't wait to see where he would take Buck's and Eddie's storylines.

Similar to the title of episode 2x17, I should have been careful about what I wished for because even though it started out strong, after the opening disaster, it turned into a complete and utter dumpster fire and my experience in this fandom not only became exhausting; it was horrifically horrible because of a kiss between Buck and a PLOT DEVICE. Almost immediately, Buddie shippers started being harassed and were sent asks from blank blogs (they weren't anonymous for me because I don't accept those) telling shippers to stop posting about Buddie because they were never going to be better than BT and that we should just accept BT because they were CANON 🙄.

Anyway, needless to say, the last 7 months have been pure hell because of toxic BT Stans who have no boundaries, morals or fandom etiquette. Therefore, since I can't control anyone but myself, this morning, I made a decision that going forward, I'm turning the page on the BT 2.0 relationship because it's over and I'm tired of talking about it. I don't give a rat's ass about why TM chose to do what he did and why they didn't let Buck learn anything from it especially since this wouldn't have happened if whatever they were doing had ended in 7x5 but I digress.

Be clear, this is not a vague post at anyone in particular. I'm simply stating that I will no longer participate in fandom discourse about that relationship because I'm sick of it and I'm f~cking glad it's finally done. For me, it's taken a backseat just like EddieShannon, EddieMarisol, EddieAna, BuckAbby, BuckTaylor, BuckAli and BuckNaTalia because they're over and the characters are barely being mentioned in CANON, if at all. I'm done posting about these 'sunk ships' and the only time I'll include them in a blog post is when I have to reference them. Otherwise, I've moved on and I will not add anti BT or anti TK tags to my posts unless it's for blacklisting and filtering purposes because I don't give a flying f~ck about T.K. 2.0 anymore.

Now that it's over, I'm excited about writing Buddie METAs, speculations and theories again. Prior to season 8, I stopped writing them because I didn't want to and I didn't have the energy or the desire to do it due to all the toxicity. Since I was tired of being jump scared, I stopped watching live after 7x6 aired and even though I did watch 7x10, I wished I hadn't because it was a big nothing burger.

I'm excited because I don't have to worry about seeing Buck with that one-dimensional love interest who couldn't act his way out of a paper bag.

This Thursday, for the first time in months, I'll be watching live again and I might live blog the episode. I miss doing that and I can't wait to see what's going to happen with the call on the "Hotshots" set that has a fake firefighter hanging from the aerial and I wonder if Eddie will have flashbacks about the night him and Buck got struck by the same bolt of lightning.

The purpose of this long post is to say, I've moved on and I will no longer dedicate any of my blog space, writings or anything else to that relationship because the character doesn't deserve my attention. It's even more exhausting than BT 1.0 and they were in a relationship for the entirety of season 5.

Since I love Eddie, I'm ready to focus my METAs and speculation on what's next for him. I was planning to do a long post on 8x6 but I won't since I've already done two long posts about BT 2.0's breakup. So now my attention will be focused solely on Eddie until I finish the posts I want to do regarding his scenes. I loved the fact that he got the majority of the screen time at the end of 8x6 and when Buck showed up, that made it even better.

I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE! I ALWAYS HAVE AND I ALWAYS WILL.

I've turned the page and I'm excited to see where Buddie is going next. I'm ready for them to enjoy spending time together again without Temu third wheeling and infringing on their relationship. I'm ready for their son to come home so the Buckley-Diazes can spend time together again too. I don't know when Chris will return but I don't think it was a coincidence that there was a picture of him on the sofa table that's next to the door underneath a picture of Texas especially since it was in the middle of Eddie and Buck.

So, here's to me being excited for Buddie and ignoring anything BT 2.0 related 🥳🍾🥂🎆.

I'm ready to enjoy my Buddie fandom experience again by creating METAs, theories, speculation, GIF sets and continuing to write fanfics and I can't wait!

[planether]

the only thing i think of when i see things like 'what would you tell your younger self' is specifically i wish i could tell 19 year old me that so many people will love the kindness you have and always will have - that is the real definition of resilience, and not abrasiveness out of violence you unfortunately had to go through. people love and want that gentleness all the time. not a character you portray out of being hurt...which makes you more isolated and misread and hurt when it's impossible to connect with anyone. you made a lot of things in your life for the wrong reasons and not being true to yourself

[hella1975]

choked up in my room rn bc i was sat in the car with my mum completely lost in thought and she out of nowhere went 'are you okay?' and i was like 'yeah? why?' bc i was totally fine i was literally just thinking and she let it go and then five entire minutes later she goes 'are you sure? have i done something?' and she sounded so genuinely anxious and i could tell she'd been thinking about it the entire 5 minutes while id been completely oblivious and i spent so many years as a child letting everything bottle up until it all burst out in a messy and ugly breakdown that took her down with me and despite that she never hated me she only ever blamed herself for not seeing the signs and she's never been able to see my signs because i keep everything to myself and it terrifies her that she might miss something and she handles things poorly when she's scared and she gets too angry but fundamentally she's trying her absolute hardest to be a good mother and it wasn't always enough and i know i have to hold her at least partially accountable but also she's my mum and im her daughter and she always just wants to know if im okay and most of the time im not and somehow that feels like ive betrayed her

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[queers-gambit]

What Goes Around, Comes Around

prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school

word count: 6.7k+

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".

warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).

DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all

"That's fucking her, I swear to God."

"You sure?"

"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."

The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.

"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."

"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."

"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"

"Doubt it," Jake nodded.

"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."

"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"

"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"

"I mean - "

"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.

"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.

"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"

"No," Lawrence looked down.

"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"

Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.

So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...

Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.

"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.

"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"

"No? Why?"

"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."

"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.

He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"

"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."

Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"

"What if their man isn't here?"

"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.

Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.

"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."

"Huh?" Law mumbled.

"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.

"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"

"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.

Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.

"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.

The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.

Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.

Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...

That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.

"Bitch has it coming!"

"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"

"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.

"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"

"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.

"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."

"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"

"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.

Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.

You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.

"I'm so sorry."

"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."

"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.

"Huh?"

"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."

"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"

"We're all in AP History with Snyder."

You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"

"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"

"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"

"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."

"You did tonight."

"I should've done more a lot sooner."

"You could've been really hurt, Law."

"Like you?"

"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm still sorry..."

You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.

"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.

"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."

"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.

"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."

You only sniffled.

"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.

"Hell happened to you, man?"

Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."

Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.

You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."

"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."

You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."

"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."

"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.

"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."

"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.

"You said Jake and Steven did this?"

"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."

"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "

"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.

"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.

"My sister's 'round, yeah..."

"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.

"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"

"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"

"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."

But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.

Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...

Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"

This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.

Billy raced back to you.

Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.

Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"

"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.

"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."

"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."

"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.

"What?"

"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."

Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.

Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.

The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.

His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.

You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.

Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.

After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."

"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "

"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "

"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."

"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"

"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."

Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.

"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."

His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."

Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."

Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "

"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.

Then he asked, "When?"

"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."

"Kid - "

"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."

Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."

Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.

"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."

"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "

"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.

Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."

"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.

"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.

"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"

"Max?" You asked.

"Yeah, her. Nice girl."

"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.

"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."

Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"

"He and my dad go way back," you eased.

"All cops like him?"

"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."

"Baby, just - don't even start - "

"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "

"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."

Your head shook, but Billy continued,

"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."

"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."

"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."

You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.

By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.

"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.

Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.

A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.

Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.

The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.

Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.

Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.

You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.

"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."

He shrugged, "You need help."

"You don't ask if I do."

"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."

"Billy."

He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.

"Bullshit."

"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."

"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."

"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"

Your head cocked, "Why's that?"

"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "

"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "

You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"William!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.

You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."

"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."

"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"

He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."

"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"

"'Course I am - "

"Don't lie to me."

He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."

"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."

"I know."

"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."

"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"

"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.

"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "

"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"

He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."

"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."

Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"

"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"

"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."

"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."

Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."

"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.

"No, don't - "

"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."

"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."

"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."

He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."

"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."

He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."

"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."

"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.

"We good?" You whispered.

"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"

"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.

"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.

"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"

"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."

"I'm doing so much better, though!"

"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."

"He has one in two weeks."

"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."

You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"

"I've always been."

"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."

"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."

"Yes, sir."

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[servantofthefates]

10 Reasons Why I Love Being a Witch

1) Witchcraft loves me back.

With witchcraft, you get what you give. If you respect a spell’s instructions and perform it with faith, it will work. If you treat your tarot deck with regard, it will give you honest answers. Witchcraft yields results here and now, instead of promising eternal happiness after death.

2) It embraces who I am.

Witchcraft will never censor your truth by asking you to suppress your emotions. Pride, anger, greed, lust, envy… These are what make you human. And they are fuel for rituals. The craft teaches you how to harness and direct them, so you can live up to your potential.

3) It does not care about money.

Whether you use a $30 or a $3 candle will not affect the outcome of your spell. And the number of tarot decks, crystal balls and pendulums you own does not reflect how good a diviner you are. With witchcraft, faith and power are the only currencies that matter.

4) It allows me to avenge myself.

Turning the other cheek may sound nice. But it and self-love cannot co-exist. And in witchcraft, you have to love yourself before the occult allows you command it. The craft lets me practice self-love by giving back malice to anyone who sends it to me.

5) It allows me to help myself.

When your natural gifts are not enough to survive a challenge or accomplish a task, witchcraft lets you call upon the old gods and their minions for assistance. Spells that protect and disarm, heal and harm, grant and transcend are all at your fingertips.

6) It allows me to help others.

Witchcraft requires you to give back. But not through tithes or other taxes like that. Whenever you come across another soul who you think deserves your assistance, you can cast spells for them or perform divination on their behalf.

7) It lets me master myself.

Most people only know their conscious self. As a witch, you will be introduced to your other selves: your higher self and your shadow self. When the three of you have a strong understanding of one another, there is no obstacle you cannot conquer.

8) It lets me glimpse what is hidden.

Through divination, witchcraft allows you to witness things that have not yet come to pass. It also gives you access to the concealed present and the hidden past. This means you can look into people’s souls and see all their hidden motivations.

9) It dissolves my fears.

As a witch, you know that you are always where you are meant to be. Any unexpected, painful or tragic detours are only meant to reroute you to your true purpose. Witchcraft leads you to your true path. It is impossible to get lost.

10) I am the Pope of my religion.

Even though my family taught me the craft, I was given the chance to put that knowledge to the test. Nobody forced me to believe in anything that did not show itself to be true. And whenever I want to talk to my gods, I do not need a middle man. I always have a direct line.

[mypoisonedvine]

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me." + "has anybody else ever made you feel like this?" with mob!bucky

oh, mob!bucky, how I've missed you <3 this turned out pretty um. fucked up tbh

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), oral m receiving and creampie, daddy kink, public sex/exhibitionism, hair pulling, established (sugar daddy) relationship

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"And what do you say when I buy you something pretty, baby?" he purred as he ran his hands over your exposed back-- funny how the dresses he bought you always showed so much skin...

"Thank you, daddy," you cooed in return, bending down to kiss him on the cheek, and he smirked as he spread his legs a bit wider in his chair.

"Doesn't she look great, boys?" he prompted the men around him, who nodded and hollered in agreement. Sometimes it could be hard to get Bucky alone, with all the guards and 'employees' of various ranking always around him. Of course, you had him to yourself every night as long as you were willing to wait for those late night drinking and poker sessions to end-- which you were, you were used to the way he lived. And you were used to the attention of his colleagues, as well, because he loved to show you off to anyone he could.

What you weren't used to was him reaching down to pet your legs suggestively like this, in front of everyone.

"You know, if you wanna thank me," he continued with a raised eyebrow, "I can think of a much more fun way."

You cleared your throat nervously, glancing at the men around you. "O-of course, daddy-- when you come to the penthouse tonight, I'll thank you all night long."

The men snickered, but Bucky wasn't satisfied. "You can thank me here," he decided. "I don't have anything to hide from them."

Your heart raced, but fuck, it turned you on, too. Especially that look in his eyes, you would've done anything he wanted right then. But you wanted to be sure you weren't misunderstanding his intentions. Leaning in, you mumbled quietly: "Do you really want me to... in front of them?"

"Yes," he answered, looking up at you expectantly; and so you kissed him as you started to sink down onto your knees in front of the chair.

Already there were some strong reactions from the men watching you: cheers, laughs, even clapping. It made you feel... several emotions. It made you fucking wet.

You broke the kiss when you were fully on the ground, running your hands up his legs until he moved his hips forward for you to open his belt. "Can I take it out for you, daddy?" you asked sweetly, and he laughed as he nodded.

"Of course, baby," he hummed.

You didn't waste any time-- you freed his cock from his suit trousers, and dove in to lick a long stripe from the base of it to his tip. He got a bit harder in your grasp, putting a hand on the back of your head to guide you to swallow him down.

"Fuck," he groaned, "she's got such a sweet little mouth..."

Your hips shifted, something sexy and filthy about the way he was talking to them instead of you. But, he did address you next.

"Show them how you can take it all, sweetheart," he encouraged, "show them what daddy taught you."

You bobbed your head lower until your lips were at his base, and his tip was pressing into your throat. They made sounds of awe and amusement, watching him hold your head down and fuck up into your mouth until you gagged loudly. He held you down for one more moment before letting you breathe again-- you pulled back and looked up at him as you sucked in air sharply. "Is that good, daddy?"

"Yes, babydoll," he assured, "you can keep going."

You got back to it, though he gave you a little more control this time, and you used it to bring your hand around him and stroke the rest of his cock while you sucked him. You still deepthroated him when you could, just with breaks in between; all while he bragged about you to his men.

"See how obedient she is?" he announced smugly. "She'll do anything for me. Such a good little girl for daddy."

They certainly seemed to agree: you heard someone say "I bet she is" and someone else notice "she really knows how to suck a cock, huh?"

Just when you thought you were doing well, Bucky grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off of him; before you could ask what he was doing or if you'd done something wrong, he stood up and bent you over the table roughly, slamming you down hard enough to make the poker chips and cards bounce. "Sorry, baby," he growled as you whined, "you can't get daddy all worked up like that and not expect any consequences."

He was still pinning you down by your neck with one hand while the other pulled up the bottom of your dress to expose your ass-- no panties, just like he'd told you when you left to try on the new dress. He slammed his cock inside you, making you cry and arch your back as he fucked you brutally against the table. Some of the men were still seated around it, and you shut your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to make eye contact with any of them.

"She's such a good girl for me," he praised again, "always ready to take my cock. Isn't that right, dollface? You let daddy fuck you whenever he wants?"

You nodded as you whimpered, and the men laughed. "She's so cute," one of them noticed, "no wonder he can't keep his hands off her."

"And she likes it when daddy gets rough," Bucky added with a low laugh, and you moaned louder. "Uh huh, I know, babydoll-- you love being mine so much..."

"Daddy!" you yelped as he started to pump even faster-- he certainly wasn't pulling any punches. Probably because he knew what it did to you. "Daddy, m'gonna come!"

"See how easy she is?" he smiled. "Fuck, she can't help it, she just loves getting used so much. You can come, baby, nice and loud so everybody can hear you."

"Fuck, daddy, fuck!" you moaned, legs shaking as the feeling hit you hard and sudden. You hadn't expected at all how easily you would come from this-- if anything you thought it would be harder with all these eyes on you.

You would've collapsed if you weren't being held against that table by his painfully-tight grip on your hair. "Fuck, she squeezes me so good when she comes," Bucky growled, "this cunt really knows how to treat a cock."

He seemed to be going even deeper inside of you, if that was possible, and you felt your own wetness starting to run down your legs.

"I'm close, baby, I'm fuckin' close," he warned with another tug on your hair. "You want daddy to come?"

"Yes," you whimpered.

"You want daddy's come deep inside you?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck, fuck," he groaned, and all at once he stopped, grunting through his teeth as he filled you as deep as he could go. "Fuck, babydoll... god, look how pretty you looking getting filled with come... doesn't she look pretty, boys?"

He slowly pulled out of you, but put both his hands on your ass to spread it out and get a better view of your hole.

"Damn, look't that," he praised, "can't hardly tell daddy just beat you up, you're still so tight. Push it out, honey, I want them to see how good daddy filled you."

Your face was so hot now you honestly thought you might melt-- and you kept your eyes shut tight to hide from the embarrassment-- but you heard the men leaning and looking around you to get a glimpse as you flexed your muscles to push his come out of you.

You felt a thick drop run down from your opening, and they all reacted aloud. "Good, sweetie, keep going," Bucky praised, and you whimpered as you pushed more and an even bigger wave oozed out of you.

The men couldn't keep their mouths shut now. "Damn, that's a lot of come." "She really does whatever he says." "Look at it running down her legs, what a whore." "You can tell she likes it too, look-- fucking slut."

Bucky guided you to stand up straight again, pulling your dress down to cover your ass. You blinked your eyes open, though you couldn't be too surprised as the lascivious stares of all the men in front of you. "You did so good, baby," Bucky praised softly in your ear, holding you close from behind. "They all want you so fucking bad, hm? But whose are you, doll?"

"Yours, daddy," you answered weakly.

"That's right, sweetheart," he cooed as he kissed you on the cheek, "you belong to me."

[kaileedraws]

Introduction: Adrien Agreste

Hey fellow miraculers! Here’s Adrien and a little about how he’s going to be portrayed in this AU. I’ll list the characteristics and/or problems that I saw in the show and then delve into how I’m going to take things here. Most of the issues I found in his character is just that his issues aren’t really talked about, but the subtext of a great character is there and he definitely has main character potential

1. His outfit

This is honestly a budget issue/creating recognizable characters for the show, but like all characters, I want to see more Gabriel Agreste fashion on him.

2. Love interest or main character?

In the show, it’s said that he’s the main character, but he doesn’t appear as such. A lot of his emotions, struggles, and life isn’t delved into as much as Marinette, yet he has so much potential. He’s a teenage Rapunzel trapped in a tower waiting for his ladybug in shining armor to come save him. I want to explore not only his fears of losing his freedom, but also his experimentation with rebellion and standing up to his father.

3. Adrien as a Model

In the show, his life as a model isn’t talked about really much, he just thinks it’s boring and it’s a nuisance to him. However, with some research, I discovered how horrible it can be. For one, Adrien would become desensitized to personal space and being touched without permission, putting him into awkward positions in his job and even with classmates. He would get taken advantage of a lot easier. As a model and celebrity, Adrien would also experience Parasocial Confusion — which is when a celebrity has difficulty distinguishing between genuine personal connections/love and relationships/infatuations of fans. This would make relationships with him incredibly difficult.

Additionally, model assault is a huge thing in the fashion industry. Unfortunately, because Adrien is such a pushover and people pleaser, this puts him up to be a prime target for abuse that he probably thinks is just normal (yes this happens, I promise, it sucks.) I want to see a huge character arc with him learning about personal boundaries and learning how to enforce them, with his friends teaching him what is Ok and what is not socially.

4. His personality before his mother dies

If I’m not mistaken, I don’t think we ever get much insight into how Adrien is like before Emilie “disappears.�� From what we know about her, she is a princess and an actress, which brings me to my headcanon:

Emilie brought Adrien up on broadway shows, fairytales, and romances — this would explain why he has an “old fashioned” ideology that “boys save girls” (S3E3). This would also explain his gentlemanly behavior— like he was literally written/taught his behavior by a princess (he was. Her name is Emilie).

Inspired by musical theatre and the arts, Adrien began to take dance classes, where he meets Chloe Bourgeois — Emilie is to blame for this, and Gabriel would rather him take fencing, but he gives in. Chloe and Adrien become childhood friends through dance and being partnered often is how they became so close. Based on his “breakdancing” moves as Chat Noir, I think it would also be reasonable that he took other forms of dance too, like hiphop.

As Emilie started to get sicker and sicker, his ambitions for dance and the arts faded. He began fencing like his father wanted to and abandoned dancing. He and Chloe still remained close friends — as this was the only friend he was allowed to have. Gabriel knew Chloe’s dad, after all.

Although Emilie was portrayed to be kind, beautiful, and caring, it’s easy to paint memories of a person better than they actually were. Although she was those things, Emilie also was dramatic, hotheaded, and emotional. If Adrien did something wrong, she’d be quick to scold him harshly, but then just as quick to apologize for her outburst. Toward the end of her life, she was also rather absent from Adrien’s life, as she didn’t have much energy to take care of him anymore. It was difficult for her to take care of him as she got more and more sick, and he would often try to be the best little boy he could because he didn’t want to be a burden on top of her sickness. I mean remember, the last 3 years his dad had gotten him a freaking PEN for his birthday. This occurred when Emilie was still alive.

The person who raised him the most was Nathalie — as his mother became weak, and Gabriel became absent

5. Mental health and coping so he isn’t akumatized

Headcanon that to keep himself from being akumatized, Gabriel has him talk to a counselor who prescribes him multiple medications that work a little TOO well. Meaning? Let’s just say that he starts to become numb to feelings and that it’s just another way for his father to control him — His rebellion streak is going to hit hard yo.

Despite these methods, he’s still going to get akumatized — don’t worry, no one is safe.

His mental health illnesses insinuated from the show include depression, ADHD, parasocial confusion, abandonment trauma, social anxiety disorder, attachment disorder/trauma (which leads to lack of boundaries), and to add some spice, probably claustrophobia (or just feeling trapped). This poor boy has so much he needs to shift through and I’m excited to guide him on an arc to healing.

Conclusion

I think Adrien is my favorite character simply because of how there are certain aspects of him that I heavily relate to — plus he’s such a kind soul who has every right to turn into a villain but stays a sunshine golden retriever boy. It takes a lot of strength and determination to go through so much and be good in the end. I can’t wait to write him in this AU and give the boy the healing and happiness he deserves. There’s so much more I could talk about with him, but this is just the beginning!

[sysmedsaresexist]

I've seen this question going around a fair bit to blogs that don't really give a good answer and I don't really want to interact with, SO

Let's talk 📣

Headspaces

Did you know that there was a point in time when inner worlds were largely confined to discussions of polyfragmentation and complex MPD?

I've posted before about the experiences of older systems before the internet, and this topic falls into that same boat-- back before maladaptive daydreaming was even a named concept (Eli Somer first wrote about MaDD in 2002).

So, to anyone worried:

Not having an inner world is NORMAL

In fact, for the longest time, it was the norm.

As such, there were techniques used to HELP clients develop an inner world in an attempt to learn to communicate with their alters.

And I'd like to share one of those with you! This technique could be useful to ANYONE still struggling to speak with system members, and gives you a basis from which to build an inner world.

The Round Table Communication Exercise

When I first started my journey, I had no communication with my system. We experienced heavy emotional intrusion from each other, maybe a whisper here or there, but that was it.

My therapist taught me this technique to use during our sessions and while I was going to sleep.

Essentially, you're meditating. Find a quiet place to relax (when going to bed it perfect), close your eyes, and imagine a table.

Start simple, nothing intense. Hold the image of the table in your mind. What is it made from? How many legs does it have? What colour is it? Is there anything on it? Etch this table into your mind. Every inch of it. Commit it to memory.

And now, set chairs at the table. How many are there? Are they the same material as the table? Are they comfortable or hard? Tall backs? Arms? Can you sit in the chair and lean your forearms on the table? Is it comfortable?

Invite others to come sit with you.

Maybe they won't show up the first day, but continue to invite them, continue to imagine that table and the chairs. Note any changes that occur to the table.

Once you're comfortable with the table, familiar with it, slowly look around the room. How many walls? What colour? Is there anything on the walls? What kind of vibe is the room giving you? Is it welcoming and relaxing? If it's not, imagine yourself changing the room. Straighten pictures, paint the walls.

Continue to visit this room and invite others to come talk.

Eventually, someone came to sit at the table with me. As we sat and spoke, I could start to envision his face, his hair, his voice, his clothes, I could hear him telling me his name.

And over time, more people joined us. More chairs appeared, knickknacks were scattered around the room and across the table, doors appeared along the walls.

We created a couch and a TV, to simulate fronting and imagine our interactions together.

Because that's all an inner world is-- an imaginary recreation to represent internal interactions.

There isn't some small pocket in your brain where everyone lives, you're not born with an inner world, it doesn't come free with your first alter's Xbox. An inner world can be as simple as being able to visualize an interaction, or an entire immersive daydream city.

One of my alters is very emotionally reactive, and when he's frustrated, he "flips the table." This visualization is something everyone in the system can see, it's the same feeling each time, and the reactions of each alter can be perfectly visualized as this table flips-- exhausted groans, facepalms, shooshpaps as he's whisked away to his room through one of the doors.

When we're fighting for front, we can see ourselves sitting on the couch in front of the television, fighting over the remote, or if we're co-con we can imagine ourselves sitting together on the couch. Maybe we're cuddled and happy, or maybe we're sitting there awkwardly, a solid inch between us where we refuse to brush arms.

Over time, the couch became bigger, and more of us could sit together, everyone aware of and watching the images on the screen of our life happening in real time. We could talk to each other about choices we were making.

Eventually, we could visualize ourselves talking it out rather than fighting. We were able to slam our hands down on the table before it could be flipped.

These visualizations are our basis of communication.

This is an inner world, even if it's nothing more than a room that I created myself.

I hope this exercise can help others.

Good luck, and happy daydreaming.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 6, episode 608

Hello, everyone!

Finally I have some time to write this! You can not imagine how demanding is to work making television shows, everything is for yesterday, haha!

Complains about work aside, it is time to talk about my last episode of season 6, episode 8. This one was... special.

I can say without a doubt that this was one of the most emotional episodes I have ever worked on. I cried every time I watched the animatic, and I cried again watching the final episode a few days ago.

I think is a lot of things together: a lot of important things happens, characters die, Katolis is destroyed, one of the quasars is fake! Aaravos!!! ... but also because I witnessed my team bring together their A game, telling this story in such a beautiful way.

I learned a lot from this episode, specially from my Unit Director, Mike Jones, who was in charge of boarding the "Hearts of Cinder" spell sequence; what a masterclass of emotion, storytelling and cinematography! I love Jason Simpson's performance during the show, but in particular in that sequence, and I think the boards took everything to a new level.

Now, let's go back to my sequences.

My first one was Soren going down to Viren to ask him to perform the spell. It was good to have this last interaction between both of them after all the work I did with the characters in 605.

There is a lot of subtle staging in this one. The way the light is hitting over their heads, how present in the screen the staff is; Viren's hesitance is something that I remember was important for me to portrait properly.

One of the things we talked a lot during this sequence was in how to use the light as narrative element. I was not interested in the classical reading of going into the light as "good" and shadows as "bad".

But light as hope, options, forgiveness, etc.

Viren walks away from the light when he gets offered the staff not because he is going "bad" but because he doesn't feel capable to do what he is being asked to do.

Soren is coming directly to him, removing his chains, giving him back his staff, asking him for help. But Viren hesitates.

And I think that that was a genius think for the script to call. Viren is not a man looking for the first chance to "redeem" himself. I am not even sure that he believes that he deserves that possibility.

But they are running out of time. The situation is dire, and as the light get blocked by the falling debris, the options are becoming clearer. Hope is dim, but there is something to do: Hearts of Cinder.

Viren, still full of doubts, explains to Soren why the spell is so hard to perform: the price is a human heart. A price that the Viren of the past would have pay with not second thought, but not the current one, no the one who understands the weight of dark magic.

But Soren has no doubts: "Take mine" I still have chills listening to the delivery of that line. And I think here is the moment Viren decided to sacrifice himself. While he is being consumed by doubt and fear, his son will is clear, Soren will do the right thing, even if that cost him his life.

And that is what Viren never had before. The willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He looked at his reflection in Soren's golden heart and saw and answer, saw love, hope.

I just think is beautiful that Soren's conviction gave him the chance to do the right thing for once. Soren taught him the ultimate lesson.

I love this two so much.

My next sequence is a simple one, Terry and Claudia arriving to Katolis. I liked to draw Claudia's new hair. I wish I had more sequences with her in this season.

After this is Moon nexus time!

After all the drama with Viren and Soren the massage sequences felt a little silly, hahaha. but was fun to make.

I added the little detail of Rayla having issues landing, while Callum is just so good at it, haha. Fun to have their roles reversed for one, and Rayla being the clumsy one.

I like the moment when Lujanne ask them if they are a couple again and they exchange this nice look. I know that Rayllum is a huge thing in the fandom, and while they are not my type of ship (I am into the sapphics, you know) I think that they are pretty cute together, and Is always fun to make moments between them.

I just wanted to share with you this silly face, lol. Sometimes you draw things in boards that don't translate that well into the final show, but It is fun anyway, you want to inspire the animators to push the performance as much as they can.

Back to serious business. I love the shift when our heroes realized that there is only 2 quasars and 3 coins. Callums turn into Raylla knowing that this will destroy her. I really enjoy how the use of the lens to blur Lujanne in the Background creates this efect of hyperfocus on Callum and Rayla.

She is facing a terrible decision, who to save. So we move the camera to focus only on them. Is an intimate moment.

I like this framing, Rayla is in pain, crying, Callum is listening, but by the framing we can se that he is holding her. Callum is there for her, always.

And that is how I finished my last sequences of season 6, with Rayla crying.

Working on this season was one of the honors of my life. And I can wait to share with you how was making season 7, because was... A LOT, for sure! hahahaha.

Hope you like this! And feel free to ask if you have questions about the storyboard process!

And thanks for all the notes, comments and support! It is truly appreciated!

A little bonus:

Look a the cool crew jacket that Bardel gave us when we wrapped seasons 4 to 7! (Finally I can show it without making it an spoiler of the name of season 7!!)

[taffywabbit]

idk if i'm way off the mark on this, but the way some people are responding to that Guillermo del Toro interview about the decline of studio animation is a bit frustrating to me. specifically the bit where he talks about "emoji animation" and how everything is over-animated and pushed too far and things are rarely allowed to not be ultra-cartoony (y'know, because animation always needs to be marketable to children who are never trusted to have attention spans, right?). like, i think he's generally correct about it! but some folks are taking the wrong message away from that.

i've seen people going off about how "soulless" and "corporate" various recent examples are, and talking about these pieces of media as though they're the result of some kind of personal failing or lack of skill/range on the part of the animators, and it's just like. do people realize that's the only animation you're usually allowed to DO in the industry, unless you get incredibly lucky and land yourself on a project/studio that's unusually cool?

when i was in college for animation it was literally drilled into us nonstop that everything had to be pushed more, that exaggeration was not a guideline or a sometimes-treat but a hard rule that always had to be applied regardless of what was going on, because the viewer couldn't be trusted to pick up on subtlety and we sure as hell couldn't be trusted to convey it. you ever wonder why there's such a specific vibe to a lot of self-directed student films, particularly ones that are focused on character acting/interaction or deep emotions and introspection (especially when there's minimal/no dialogue)? it's because for a lot of young animators, they haven't had the freedom to experiment with realism and subtlety up to that point and they're likely not going to have it again for a while (or at all, unless their career path leads to higher positions where they might have more creative direction over the things they work on. which also becomes a lot less likely if they're anything other than a cishet white dude, for what it's worth).

i would LOVE to see more nuanced, realistic, understated motion and acting in animation. i WANT more characters to be able to express what they're feeling through natural body language and facial cues and for scenes to allow me to breathe instead of spelling everything out in giant bold flashing text all the time. what del Toro wants to see changed in the animation industry sounds great, and i hope others join him in seeking to revamp what modern animation is allowed to be.

but as things currently stand, and as they've stood for a long while now, most artists doing the grunt work on the shows and movies you see are completely at the mercy of corporations and networks who have a vested interest in producing a very specific kind of marketable and cost-efficient media all the time. (and by extension that style is ALSO what's taught in most animation schools, because their job more than anything is to grind you down into a perfect little sweatshop worker who will bend over backwards to meet quotas and get your work approved and not question the higher-ups, even if you have little to no personal investment in the projects you're working on, so that the studios who employ you can maintain their good reputations or whatever)

anyways idk what my point was here, this really just sorta became a rant and my views have undoubtedly been coloured by my own personal experiences (this kinda shit is largely why i dropped out before my last year of animation school, for the record).

i guess just be kind to folks in the animation industry? they've had it fucking rough nonstop for well over a century (the majority of them are still not unionized and there's HUGE pushback against doing so in many places). i assure you they are doing their best to infuse the latest uninspired illumination flick or weird spinoff kids' show with literally any amount of soul they can. you don't have to like the stuff that gets produced by any means! be a hater! i'm certainly not gonna stop you. just remember where these creative decisions come from and why these conditions exist, and consider that when YOU watched something and thought "hmm that could've been done better", you can bet your ass someone actually working on it probably thought the same thing but couldn't do anything about it. these things WILL change as the industry itself improves, but in the meantime folks have to pay their rent, and that usually means doing what they're told and working in a way that will minimize revisions and meet quotas so they can keep their jobs. it sucks, but it is what it is.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Only one person has the power to make Stolas cry

And I'll keep the intrigue just a little bit longer so you can try to guess for yourself and experience the kind of satisfaction I had once I pieced it all together. And, oh boy, did it click!

Okay, so today, after a rather passionate conversation with @tealvenetianmask about how fandom seems to perceive Stolas as overly emotional and soft demon, we started rummaging through all the scenes where Stolas actually cried. We were blown off by some revelations.

First note: it's actually not much. Our owl appears to be very sturdy and often bites back when attacked, rather than shutting down as one might expect.

Second note... Better let me show you. Let's walk through all the 'Stolas cries' scenes and see what is happening there, and answer the question, "What, or rather who, sets him off the rails?"

This is your last chance to place your bets and educated guesses. Because below are big clues, and, eventually, answer.

Circus

We follow up on Stolas shortly after the disastrous date at Ozzie's - arguably, a couple of hours later. He looks absolutely miserable. He has boozed himself to unconsciousness. His eyeliner is ruined from earlier tears. He groans, either from headache or emotional turmoil, grabs three Happy pills, and shoves them down his throat.

Whatever happened at this club ruined our bird, to the point he's looking for anything to avoid being alone with his thoughts.

Western Energy

One shed tear. That's all Stolas allows himself. That's what I am talking about when I claim he is actually very tough. He is being tortured, mutilated, and by this point, he has a pretty good understanding that his demise is likely inevitable.

And you know what he does in response? He talks back. He cuts through Striker's bullshit about royals taking everything from him and points out that his killer took a contract from a royal. He literally humiliates Striker with sex jokes and mocks his oversized dick on the statue ego. Figuratively, he spits death in its face.

The Full Moon

Stolas is destroyed.

This meeting was nerve-wracking even before it happened - all the preparation, insecurities, misunderstandings of the past, and lingering, terrifying questions (He loves me? He loves me not?).

It takes weeks to set everything in motion. He planned it meticulously. He scripted every word, every movement of his body, every subtle tone in his voice.

But he forgot that there was another party in this play. The party who was not given the script and is burdened with his own trauma. One shitty assumption, one poorly-thought-out action, and here it is - mockery, avoidance, a fight... and tears. His first meltdown he wasn't able to conceal.

His worst nighmares came true, or so he convinced himself. He loves me not.

Apology Tour

Our last stop on our 'we-love-being-tortured-by-crying-Stolas' tour is here.

The wound is still fresh, bleeding even, and here he comes, rubbing salt into it. Someone Stolas still desperately wants. Someone who was infinitely brash, rude, and aggressive just this morning. Someone who doubled down on statements that made Stolas believe this particular someone hates him.

That someone tries to talk. To explain. To apologize. Wonders how Stolas could actually care about him. Says the prince is better off without him.

Fuck... The prince came here to forget, to wipe that someone (okay, it's getting increasingly hard to pretend it's not obvious yet) from his memory, at least for the night, and he still won't let Stolas go.

He breaks into tears, crushed, reassured he can't have anyone who would hold him, who would say he is the only one, but recuperates shortly after - he was taught better than this.

Okay, are we ready for the shocker of the year?

It's Blitzø.

It was his date with Blitzø at Ozzie's, where he was ignored, humiliated, and was told that their relatioship was only about sex, and that he was the one who made it clear.

It was Blitzø turning down (or so he thought) his distress call, leading him to believe he was left alone to die.

It was Blitzø mocking his confession and assuming it was just a fucking roleplay.

Finally, it was Blitzø haunting him since that very morning and, albeit with better intentions, still hurting him beyond his abilities to recover.

The only person who tore his soul apart enough to break his inpenetrable mask - built up by decades of gritted teeth, restraint, and bravery - was the one he probably cares about the most.

It was not Octavia, whom he holds close to his heart but couldn’t allow to see him depressed. He had to be strong for her; he needed to raise and support her.

It was not Stella, whom he endured for years, yet did not satisfy her wish to see him whimper. He talked back, argued, ignored, and seethed. But he never gave in.

It was him. An imp who stole his grimoire and gave him the best time of his life, however sad that may sound.

Now, thanks for joining this drama in four acts. You may pull out your handkerchiefs and ugly cry right here, in your places. Don't hold it in.

Because I don't.

[starlight-bread-blog]

It's Zutara Month 2024 So I'm Gonna Discuss (See: Fangirl) Them and Emotional Labor

Katara cooks, sews, but most of all: she gives unconditional emotional support for her brother, and later the rest of the Gaang.

Illustrated after Appa was stolen, the Gaang got stuck in a desert without much water, food or any means of transportation besides their legs. Katara gave everyone her bending water, without drinking any herself, responded to everyone with compassion, and by the end she helped bring Aang back to himself while he was out of control in the Avatar State.

Even after the episode is over, next episode and she helps delivering a baby, and still makes sure to look after Aang.

Sokka too testified that Katara did a lot of labor for him:

Sokka: Actually, in a way, I rely on [Katara's bossiness].

Toph: I don't understand.

Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara, she had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helpwd fill the void that was left by our mom.

Toph: I guess I never thought about that.

And appropriately, Katara is the one doing the vast majority of the emotional labor in her relationships. She takes care everyone, comfrots them, and protects them. Take "The Deserter" as an example: Aang was being extremely careless with his new found fire bending ability, to the point where he accidently burns Katara's hands.

Katara herself never express her anger at him, she ends up healing her own wounds. Sokka does the scolding. A\ang felt incredibly guilty, but still – by the end, Katara is the one comfroting Aang when he wants to give up on fire bending.

Katara takes care of everyone in the Gaang, making sure they're well, helping them heal their scars. Moreover, Katara often brings up her own grief to empthize with other people's loss. It's a pattern of sorts:

1) A character talks about their past with the Fire Nation

Haru: Yeah. Problem is ... [Close-up, earthbends two stones in a circle above his hand.] the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Hama: I'm sorry. It's too painful to talk about anymore.

2) Katara brings up her own grief, sympathizing with their loss

Katara (to Haru): See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Katara (to Jet): Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Katara (to Hama): We completely understand. We lost our mother in a raid.

A\ang is a bit of an exception, given that she brought up her grief to prepare him for the loss of his people. (Ad they all respond sympathetically). Still, she brings it up to sympathize and help. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. but here is how it went with Zuko:

1) A character talks about their past with the Fire Nation

Katara: You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

2) Katara brings up her own grief, sympathizing with their loss

Zuko: I'm sorry. That's something we have in common.

It's Zuko who responds to her grief this time. It's him empathizing with her. It's him doing the emotional labor for her. And it's this sympathy is their first real civil conversation, establishing that in their relationship, Zuko will do some of the labor needed of him.

In The Southern Raiders, Katara opens up to Zuko, compleyely unprompted, while she is yet to forgive him, about the precise events that led to her mother's death.

A thing she has never done with anyone, and is doing now with someone she considers untrust worthy. Zuko responds with "your mother was a brave women". She, once again, is on the reciving end of the emotional labor – and in a way that is deeper than any other intance of her in the show.

In rest of the episode, Zuko is the one thinking of her and taking care of her.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Katara takes care of everyone, but it is with Zuko that she recives the help she deserves.

She put herself in danger to help A\ang, she helpped him after he'd burnt her, and she stepped up when her mother died. But with Zuko, he is the one reaching out. He's the one taking care of her needs.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

How to Leave Comments on Fanfiction

So, I recently made a poll to know if people might find it helpful to have a list of things they could talk about when leaving comments on fanfictions, be it on Ao3 or on here. A majority of people were interested in seeing the post so, well, I'm making it. I started writing and posting stuff online when I was a teenager, on a website where leaving constructive criticism was the norm. It's by far the place where I've gotten the most feedback and it was an incredibly formative experience for me as a young writer — and it taught me how to leave detailed comments.

Writing comments doesn't necessarily come easy. It's something that you may need to learn how to do, but the good news is that you can learn how to do it, so don't worry if you don't know what to say at first. Hopefully this list will give you some pointers on how to do that.

This is more or less the list I go through when I want to leave a detailed comment. Even if I don't have a specific idea at first, I'll go through the steps and I never come out empty-handed.

Comment etiquette:

What became apparent with the poll I made was that a lot of people worry about how they'll be perceived by the writers if they leave a comment. Now, obviously, writers aren't a monolith, but 99% of the time writers will be thrilled that you took the time to leave a comment to let them know what you enjoyed in their fic. I cannot stress this enough. We're not going to judge someone based on a positive comment they leave.

As it stands, on Tumblr and Ao3, it's seen as rude to leave negative feedback, unless the author has explicitly asked for it/agreed to it, so that's what I'll be going over here. Since quite a few writers did say on that post that they would like to get constructive comments as well, stay tuned, I'm trying to get something together to do that for authors. Other than that, you're good to go.

The main ways to let an author know your thoughts on a fic on Tumblr are:

reblogging a fic with your thoughts underneath it

reblogging with your thoughts in the tags, which is often less formal

leaving a comment as a 'reaction'

sending in an ask if they're activated on the blog (which means you can stay anonymous, if anon asks are allowed)

Reblogging means that your followers will see the post as well, and is therefore really appreciated on Tumblr.

As a note, you may find different systems work for different fics! Maybe leaving tag rambles works for you when commenting on drabbles, for example for me it's the system I use to leave comments on smut.

General advice:

Everything I'm saying in here is for people who want to be able to leave longer/more detailed comments and don't always know where to start. If, for whatever reason, you're not comfortable or you don't have time to do it at the moment, a simple "I love the fic, thank you for writing it" always goes a long way for an author.

The key thing to keep in mind if you're trying to find something else to say, I think, is to try making the comment specific to the fic you're leaving it on. It shows the writer what you took away from the fic and the fic's strong points, which is both meaningful and helpful to an author.

Comments don't have to be long to be meaningful. Don't stress about writing a ton; a one-sentence comment highlighting the fic's humor or how emotional it made you can be incredibly impactful.

With this out of the way, I'll go through things you can talk about in a comment, starting with what I think is the easiest and moving on to things that could require more thought. You don't have to do all of that. You may never use some of the things on that list. Leaving comments should not be a source of anxiety. So take what you want from the list, maybe come back to it if you need more inspiration, and don't worry too much about it :)

Favorite line(s) : pull from the fic to let the author know what your favorite line was. If you wish, you can expand on that by saying why it was your favorite: did it make you laugh? Did it make you feel something specific? Did the author nail the characterization with it? Was there some incredible metaphor? Did you find it beautiful or poetic even if you can't go into detail? Is there one line in particular at the beginning of the fic that hooked you in and made you want to keep reading?

All of that is very valuable for a writer to know. Some of my favorite comments I've gotten were a list of a reader's favorite lines from a fic with one or two sentences to explain why they liked them, so don't hesitate to do that more than once if you can!

Emotions:  if there’s one thing I know about writers, it’s that we’re thrilled when we’ve made you cry. So tell us: how did the writing make you feel? Did you laugh out loud? If you did, was it the dialogue, or the narrator? Did it make you cry? Which part? Could you relate to one of the characters? Did it make you feel seen? Did the fluff make you feel all fuzzy inside or did the angst twist knots in your stomach? This isn't an exhaustive list, and emotions are great to draw from when you're leaving a comment!

Favorite element of the writing: Is there one thing in the writing that struck you as being particularly good, or what was your favorite thing to read? Is the author a master at writing dialogue? Are their descriptions so good you could see the whole scene? Are they really good at getting in a character's head and describing their emotions? Were you hooked from the start and couldn't stop until you reached the end?

Characterization: Now, this might be less instinctive, but if you've been in a fandom for a while, you'll probably be able to identify these things fairly easily. You can tell the author if you think they've nailed one aspect of a character. Did you have a favorite character in the fic? What did you think of them? Did the author manage to capture their voice? Was the attitude spot-on? Which parts of the character, if you can name them? Were there aspects of the character you particularly enjoyed? Did the author shine a light on something you hadn't considered or on something you don't think is highlighted often enough? Is there one thing from the fic you can actually picture/hear a character doing/saying in your head?

Style: I'd argue this is the hardest part, and you shouldn't feel bad if it's not something you can really comment on. As someone whose first language isn't English, I know I struggle with it. Style can be perceived as the way the author's voice comes through in the text. It can come through in punctuation, in the way sentences are formed, in the choice of the words themselves. If, when you read, you feel something intangible that doesn't fit well in the other categories, it just might be the author's style.

Here are some things (non-exhaustive list, of course) you could say about an author's style: it can be direct, straight to the point. The author doesn't bother with ornaments. Every sentence feels impactful. Maybe the writing feels intense. You're overwhelmed by the characters and their feelings and you feel truly engulfed in the story. Maybe the style is light and airy. It's so easy to read you don't even notice you are reading. Maybe the writing is intricate. Going through it is like piecing a puzzle together, sentences are foreshadowing and metaphors reveal deep truths about the characters. Maybe the style is rich. While not always the easiest, it's a pleasure to read through it, the author has a wide vocabulary, and you might want to compare it to a well-written novel.

If you identify specific elements of that style (metaphors, interesting use of punctuation, etc.), don't hesitate to point them out and let the author know you enjoy them!

That is it for this post, hopefully it doesn't look too daunting — again, you absolutely do not need to do all that in any comment, but maybe going through this list can help you leave comments for authors you enjoy.

I like to end my comments with 'Thank you for writing and sharing this with us', so I'll tell you thank you for reading, I hope this was helpful, and please consider reblogging if you'd like to save this or if you think it could help someone else!

As a bonus, my friend @elidebrey and I (but mostly her) made a 'checklist' for commenting, to help remember all this if that's something you'd like, so use at will!

A big thank you to @elidebrey, @yoongihan and @antoniorhinothethird for their precious opinions on this ♥

[meespresso14]

Unexpected (Part 2)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: mentions of sex, pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, medical issues.

Once things settled down and the hostages were rescued safely with only minor injuries and mental anguish, Hondo decided it was time to pull Luca. The team could finish up without him, it would be alright. Luca was working with Tan and Street. Hondo sighed, getting himself together. The adrenaline was still rushing through all of their veins. He walked over to the group.

“Luca, can we talk for a minute?”

The color drained from Luca’s face, his classic smile fading from his lips. Hondo noticed him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah, boss. What’s up?”

Deep down inside, every bad scenario was running through Luca’s head. Was it you? Was it his parents? 

Hondo’s eyes panned over to Tan and Street before they panned back to Luca. Everyone was wearing a worried look. 

“It’s Y/N. Annie was on her way to the hospital with her. She passed out at home. I was waiting until things calmed down to pull you out as soon as I could.”

Luca’s blue eyes instantly filled with concern before he shook his head, attempting to pass by Hondo. “I gotta get out of here, man. Like now.”

“Listen, listen—I know, Luca.”, Hondo grabbed his shoulders, trying to center him. 

Luca was fighting back tears—he couldn’t show his emotions. That’s not how this worked. He was taught to be tough—even as a child. 

“Just be safe about it, man. She needs you.”, Hondo eyed Luca.

Luca couldn’t meet Hondo’s eyes. He only stared past him, however, Hondo could see the tears pooling in Luca’s deep blue eyes. He hated breaking bad news to his teammates. It seemed like only yesterday when Annie had her stroke and he had to tell Deacon. It was the worst part of being the team leader. 

“I know.”, Luca breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “What happened to her?”

Hondo shook his head. “Captain Cortez didn’t give me any other details.”

“I gotta get down there. I need to see her.”

“I know. One of us can go with you—if you want.”, Hondo added.

Luca nodded. “Okay.”

Hondo nodded, finally feeling better about Luca leaving. It was decided that Deacon would accompany Luca since Annie was at the hospital anyway. Hondo told them both to be careful and to keep the team updated on your condition. Luca didn’t even take time to change out of all his tactical gear. He just cared about seeing you—making sure you were okay. Deacon noticed him shifting in the seat nervously. 

Luca felt like a cat on a hot tin roof. His face scrunched nervously and Deacon could tell he was spiraling. 

“You okay, man?”

Luca looked over at Deacon. “Honestly…..no.”, he sighed.

Deacon nodded. “It’s okay not to be okay. I was beside myself when Annie was sick.”

Luca nodded. “I’m just thinking of everything that could be wrong with her.”

“It could be something minor.”

Luca scoffed. “Knowing my luck—no way. I mean she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, Deac. She understands me.”

Deacon kept driving, determined to get Luca there as fast as he could. “I know.”

Deacon didn’t check his phone after texting Annie that he was on his way with Luca. Traffic was horrible as per usual in LA. Deacon was a good driver, used to dealing with the congested highway. 

“I could have driven.”, Luca grumbled, crossing his arms and shifting in the seat for the thousandth time. 

“Sorry boss’s orders.”, Deacon shrugged playfully, a soft smirk crossing his lips.

Luca slumped over against the door, his anxiety getting the best of him. He thought he would handle stress better than this. And to be honest, he was a little angry at himself for getting so worked up. But this wasn’t just anything—this was you, the love of his life. He had never felt this way about another woman. He was going to marry you. And soon, especially after this. If everything was alright with you. His mind was racing with possibilities, going through any and every scenario.

Deacon knew what he was doing. He had done the exact thing when Annie was sick. He knew Luca felt guilty about leaving you and going to work. Deacon weaved in and out of traffic in an attempt to get to the hospital faster. Luca huffed and puffed, silently cursing the traffic and hitting the dashboard of his truck. 

After what felt like a hundred years, they finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance. Luca hardly gave Deacon time to shift his truck into the park before he was jumping out. Deacon threw his hands up, making sure he was parked at least halfway decent before jumping out of Luca’s truck with the keys and running to catch up to Luca. 

Luca cleared the automatic doors, instantly going to the registration desk. 

“Can I help you sir?”

“My fiancee is here.”, Luca threw his hands down on the desk, tapping them nervously. 

“Your name?”

“Dominique Luca. I should be on her paperwork.” 

“What’s her name?”

Luca gave them your name. He wished in that moment you shared his. He wished he could call himself your husband. 

“She’s in room three. I’ll take you both back there.”

Luca nodded as he looked back at Deacon. 

“Want me to follow?”

“Yeah, man. It’s fine.”

Deacon nodded, imagining that Luca needed the emotional support. The registrar opened the door and met Luca on the other side before the door to the main emergency room opened. Nurses were running around like crazy, the desk right in the middle of the room. The registrar talked quickly to a nurse and she nodded, looking at him. Luca forgot he had left his SWAT stuff on. 

“Officer Luca?”, the nurse asked, holding her clipboard.

Luca nodded. 

“Your fiancée is in room three. The doctor will be in shortly to give you an update.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“No problem, follow me.”, she smiled softly and part of Luca wondered why she was smiling when his entire world felt like it was falling apart. 

Part of him felt angry but he decided to hold it together. Deacon was behind him as they snaked their way through the emergency department to room three. The nurse grabbed the blue curtain, pulling it back.

“I have a visitor.”, she sing-songed.

Luca held his breath. Were you awake? All these questions were running through his head and he was finally going to get his answers. There were a lot of sounds in the emergency room from young children crying, people moaning in pain, and all the alarms going off constantly. But it was like everything went silent as he waited for the nurse to move back to reveal you. His mouth pursed open, trying to find the right words to say. 

You were lying there with your eyes open, a small smile on your face. “Hey babe.”

Annie was beside you at the head of your bed, holding your hand. Annie was a great friend and you were very thankful for your SWAT family. Annie smiled, realizing Luca and Deacon had arrived. She let go of your hand and moved to give Luca room but he wasn’t waiting. He rushed over to you, tears forming in his ocean-blue eyes.

“Hey, baby. Are you feeling okay?”, he immediately asked, taking you in his arms. 

Your heart monitor was beeping in the background but neither of you was paying attention to anything but one another. He kissed your head, brushing through your hair before you both smiled at one another. 

“I’m so sorry for leaving you this morning.”

“Stop that.”, you whispered lightly. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault.”

“It is—I should have stayed home with you. You needed me.”

“Luca.”

“Baby, I would have never forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

“But I’m gonna be okay.” 

You smiled softly as you touched noses before sharing a small, soft kiss. Luca thought for a moment that he would never get this opportunity again. Your lips felt like heaven and he was so relieved. 

“So everything is going to be okay?”

“Well—mostly.”

“Mostly?”, Luca questioned, concern evident in his voice. 

“Sit down, babe.”, you rubbed his muscular arm gently. 

This was it. Luca felt his heart plummet into his stomach. This was the moment you were going to tell him—you were going to give him the bad news. Luca swallowed hard, his legs beginning to feel like jello. He was never this easily rattled. But this was you. It was a whole different ball game, it was okay to be vulnerable. A lesson you had taught him. Annie helped by scooting a chair closer to the edge of the bed so he could sit down beside you. If only he knew what she did. 

Luca took a seat, immediately grabbing your hand. Just as he did, the doctor pulled the curtain back, getting everyone’s attention. 

“Officer Luca?”

Luca looked up at him, and the doctor immediately extended his hand. Luca took it, shaking his hand firmly. “Glad you could join us. I’ve already talked to your fiancee’ but she wanted you present as well.”

“Sorry—my job is a little demanding.”, Luca laughed nervously. 

Luca’s blue eyes panned over to you, still managing to give you a soft smile as he squeezed your hand. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

“We’ll be outside.”, Deacon breathed softly, grabbing Annie’s hand and exiting the room as quietly as they both could. 

“Alright, well. First of all, her iron level and blood pressure were low upon arrival to the emergency room which aided in her passing out at home. We have already given her an iron infusion along with some fluids but are admitting her overnight for observation. She will possibly need another infusion next week depending on the results of her blood work. On to other news,”, he smiled softly.

Luca was confused while he was smiling. 

“Both of these were results of another finding.”

“And that is?”, Luca questioned bravely.

He needed answers. 

“Congratulations Officer Luca. Your fiancée is pregnant. HCG levels are perfect for an estimated four weeks pregnant.”

Luca’s eyes widened before he turned to you. Did he really just hear what he thought he heard? It was the sentence he had waited forever to hear. 

“Pregnant?”, Luca repeated. 

You smirked softly. “Pregnant.”, you whispered.

“What? Babe!”, he exclaimed, a relaxed feeling finally washing over him as his lips curved into a smile and his blue eyes softened before he immediately took you into his arms.

You giggled lightly, wrapping your arms around him. It felt nice to be in his arms and you closed your eyes, taking in this feeling. You always did—just in case there was a day he didn’t get to come home. You hated to even think about the possibility but you knew that was part of what you signed up for. You always prayed for his safety along with his teammates. He pulled back to look at you, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m really gonna be a dad?”

You nodded before both of you laughed easily. 

“Congratulations to both of you. We will let you know as soon as we get you a room upstairs.”, the doctor smiled before leaving. 

Luca turned back to look at you. “I can’t believe it—but I thought you wanted to get married first.”

You shrugged easily. “Life sometimes throws curveballs.”

Luca smiled, rubbing your cheek softly. “I never thought this moment was ever going to happen for me. I thought I was always going to be stuck as Uncle Luca.”

You both laughed before you began to speak. “You’re an amazing uncle, so I just know you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Luca smiled brightly at the compliment. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too.”, you began. “But I’m not gonna lie I was a little anxious to tell you.”

“Me?”

You nodded again. “It’s just nerve-wracking. I mean I didn’t know if you wanted this right now.”

Luca sighed, shifting in the chair lightly. “I get it. I know you wanted to get married first. I mean—I know we weren’t being safe like we should but we weren’t exactly trying either.”

You giggled at the use of his terminology. “True.”

“Deacon and I even had this conversation this morning—and I thought there was no way in this world you were pregnant.”

“Me either, honestly.”

“But I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to be a dad—I can’t wait for you to start getting a little bump.”, Luca touched your flat stomach. 

You placed your hand over his. 

“Maybe we should move our wedding up.”, you smirked. 

“Sounds good. You tell me a date and we will make it happen, babe.”

You all shared another kiss before you began grinning widely. 

“Maybe we should let Deacon and Annie back in.”

“Yeah, maybe.”, Luca laughed. 

Luca let go of your hand just long enough to walk to the curtain and open it, telling Annie and Deacon they could come in. They followed him back inside the small curtained room. You could only hope that your and Luca’s relationship could be like Deacon and Annie’s—maybe even better. So far, he had exceeded every expectation. Deacon smirked at Luca and you were unsure if Annie had clued him in. 

“So Luca, was I right? Is there a chance we will have a fourth-generation SWAT member?”

Luca smirked back, elbowing Deacon playfully. “Maybe.”

You and Annie looked at one another, laughing while not being surprised by their horseplay. 

“Yeah, you were right Deac. I’m gonna be a dad.”

There were obvious tears pooling in his blue eyes and Deacon couldn’t help but smile as he pulled Luca in for a hug, patting his back. Annie couldn’t help but give a soft smile before her eyes panned over to you. You couldn’t help but notice the tears beginning to pool in your own eyes watching how excited Luca was. This was better than anything you could have imagined. 

“Well, guess it’s my turn to be an uncle now.”, Deacon smirked. 

"How long until we can tell the rest of the team?", Annie chimed in. 

You looked at Luca and he looked back at you, softly caressing his thumb over your hand. 

"What do you think, babe?"

You giggled softly before noticing Hondo, Chris, Jim, and Tan walking through the emergency room through the small slit in the curtain. "I'm thinking soon."

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞safe place

✰ pairings: ot8 x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, comfort, angst with fluffy ending

✰ warnings: reader has long hair, mentions of cursing and just reader having a hard time at the start, mentions of food

✰ word count: 3.6k + words

✿ . . plot

growing up, your parents taught you various things about whom to trust, how to save money and how to cook, all things like that. but there is one thing that still makes you hesitant… don’t worry. they said, don’t worry just take a deep breath and relax yourself, everything will eventually work out and being the obedient child you were, you always listened to them because things do work out.

but then why were you feeling as if you weren’t real? as if everything, every person, every feeling that you ever experienced felt like a scene from some novel? what is this feeling? you couldn’t name it; but you hated every bit of it. you hated how your chest hurts and even after rubbing it several times, there’s still a feeling as if there is a rope that is tied around your neck. a rope that’s strangling you and making you feel more and more anxious. you glance at your phone with a blank face, while your mind was facing a war, there’s still a text from him asking about what you were doing. you haven���t replied to him yet.

with a glance at the clock, you wrap your arms around your plushie tighter and close your eyes, trying to settle down this unknown emotion of restlessness. you try to think of him, think of good memories that you created along with him, you try to think of his smiling face and of his words that never fail to make your heart flutter. you needed to hold back until he comes back home and you return back in his arms.

౨₊ৎ chan

when you and chan first started dating, chan was everything you could ask for. he knew what you needed without you saying it, he knew what you liked, he remembered it and had it written down in his journal. it made you feel loved and secure, the two things that you always longed for in a relationship.

chan never failed to make you feel better, he talked to you and listened to your problems intently, as if trying to read between the lines and trying to figure out what went wrong. but with him away on a tour, it was hard. it was even harder to tell him anything mainly because you didn’t want him to worry when he already had so much on his plate. you never want to burden him with your worries. neither do you like to pitied, so will try you keep your emotions to yourself until he comes back.

but looks like that plan is unsuccessful the moment your phone rings and you see his video call. with a soft grunt, you sit up and set your hair before accepting the call.

there he is, sitting on his chair while wearing his signature black hoodie and a wide smile on his face.

“hey sunshine, how are you doing today?” a sentence from him is all it takes for you to break down and hide your face with your one hand and try to get out of the camera’s frame.

“what’s wrong?” his voice is calm, but you know he’s trying not to show his worry to scare you.

you chuckle, trying to brush it off by saying, “it’s nothing just missed you.” but he knows you very well. he knows you well to figure out something is seriously wrong, because until now you would’ve usually spammed him with texts or photos of what you did.

there’s a silence as he just stares at you through the screen before sighing out loud, “i know i’m pretty far from you right now, but you can tell me what’s bothering you anytime. anytime you want, and i’m serious. i don’t want to force you to say what happened so i’ll just talk about how my day went.”

he begins talking about his day, about what he did and what things reminded him of you and what things made him miss you. there’s a smile on his lips, but there’s worry clouded in his eyes, which you pretend not to see and just nod in amusement as he continues to list the things he did.

an hour later, when the two of you hang up, you receive a text from him. it’s a video of you in a garden sitting on a swing and laughing. it brings back a flood of memories from where it started, and you feel like you’re too distracted by the memories that the feeling you had in you earlier, has resided long back. it never fails to surprise you how he can make you feel the real you. with him, there’s no need to pretend. it’s just him and you. he tries his best yo understand how you feel, and considers your feelings sincerely. it’s his love for you that reassures you to not worry. because things eventually do work out.

౨₊ৎ minho

when minho saw you sitting on the couch half- dazed out he knew something wasn’t right. judging the way that even after being home for fifteen minutes he was just welcomed with a nod, it made him sense that something was very wrong. even after cooking your favourite food, there was no smile on your face and it made his heart burn.

without a single word, he heads upstairs. minutes later a shout from him his heard, telling you to head upstairs. so you do and upon entering you could feel your eyes blur as you look at the little pillow castle he created along with a laptop and a pack of chips.

“it was time for movie night anyways,” he sheepishly utters, while maintaining a casual look even though on the inside he is nervous for your reaction. a small smile from you is all it takes for him to return the smile twice as bright along with a hug. it’s the feeling of a warm embrace. that peculiar look of love on his face. perhaps it is also the way his hands are in your hair. but mostly, it’s his eyes that shine with adoration. those eyes that can speak a thousand words and even without anything communication there is still laughter that could be seen.

“do you feel better now?” his voice is calm and you know he’s trying not to force you from the way his fingers trace patterns on your palm.

“yeah, thank you so much,” you mumble and press a soft kiss on his cheek making him smile at you lovingly.

“do you wanna go out for a walk?” he questions suddenly making you look at him in confusion. he gets up while grabbing your hand. and when you nod, he doesn’t hesitate to drag you along with him while running as fast as he could, making you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

it was 11 in the night, yet he still is as energetic as ever. there’s an evident smile on his face as he swings your hand together with his, while walking down the isolated streets. there’s a silence, one that often gets interrupted because of some vehicle honking in a distance, but at least he’s there with you. right when you needed him.

with a fond look plastered over your face, you watch him talk about his day and about some of his annoying colleagues that managed to make his mood go sour. it’s amusing to see the way he takes one glance at you and changes the subject every five minutes, trying to keep your mood up.

౨₊ৎ changbin

“babe? it’s okay, just let me in?”

how long had it been since he had been knocking on the door using every persuasive writing key points he learned in elementary school to convince you to open up the door, but you were stubborn as ever and refused to even budge it a bit. you don’t exactly remember how you both ended up like this. was it because of it felt anxious to show your emotions fully in front of him? or was it the way you thought that he would think you were a crybaby?

“go away, please.”

you try to keep your voice firm, but it cracks the moment you hear him let out a deep sigh and try to coax you, he knew he can’t leave you alone, especially when you’re having a rough time. so he stays there for a moment, trying to think of something that will make you open up.

you and changbin had been dating for over 4 months now. all these 4 months were getting to know each other better and spending time together and eating and cooking together. it was fun. it truly was. with him, you felt like you could actually crack jokes and laugh as hard as you wanted to because he would never judge you. then why were you hiding your feelings from him?

being the type of person, who doesn’t like to share their problems with anyone else, it felt weird when he started asking you how your days were or if you were eating well. soon you got used to it, but you had no clue what to do when you would break down while he’s with you.

“baby? i don’t know what’s troubling you. is it me? or did anyone say something to you?” he questions softly while you try to muffle your sobs.

he waits for a reply, a sniffle, anything and instead hears the click of the door which makes him sigh in relief. he is quick to wrap you in his embrace and caress your head making your body shake from the sobs.

he stays like that for around five minutes before pulling away and cupping your face. he wipes your tears with his sleeves and looks deeply into your eyes.

“i don’t want you to ever lock yourself like that, okay?” he scolds you, but his soft tone says otherwise.

“you had me worried so much baby, if you’re not feeling well, ever, i repeat ever, just call me.”

though he couldn't see it, a soft smile tugs at your lips as you press a kiss to his furrowed brow. he was your safe place.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

hyunjin drops your favourite chocolate over your lap, before nestling in beside you. wordlessly he copies your position and curls himself on the couch while staring at you. you don’t look at him. you don’t even try to acknowledge his presence, but you can feel it. the scent of his shampoo after he just came from a shower, it’s so familiar and smells like home which makes you sigh in content. even without doing anything and just by staying by your side he manages to provide you with comfort.

“did you miss me?” he cocks his head playfully while grabbing hold of your hands and manages to catch your attention.

“is that even a question?” you retort back making him chuckle.

it’s almost comical how at ease you feel just by his touch, his presence and his words. if there’s one thing that hyunjin is good at which never fails to amuse you, is the way he tries to act according to your moods.

if you’re happy, he’ll match your vibe and take you out on a late night convenience store date. if you’re angry, he’ll buy you some chocolates and snacks and remain patient for your anger to reside. and if you’re sad ( like today), then he’ll just listen or talk depending on whether you open up first or not. it’s not just the way that he loves being with you, but it’s the way that he puts in the efforts to understand you. to understand what’s wrong rather than acting immaturely. so in this relationship, he was the mature one, though at times he loves being babied as well.

“want to talk about it?” he whispers carefully, while glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

with a nod you delve into a ramble about everything that happened in detail. it doesn’t take long for him to begin adding his comments here and there as well. it makes you feel as if someone does observe you. as if, someone does listen to you.

“sorry, am i boring you too much?” you asked in a small voice, confused as to why he suddenly stopped adding on his thoughts.

“i could never be bored. you know why? it’s because i could literally do nothing and sit here, listening to your voice for hours,” it’s not the first time he’s ever said things like these to you and yet, they never fail to make you speechless.

“i need a cuddle,” he changes the subject swiftly and you laugh, “why are you so cute today?”

“i’m cute everyday,” he replies with a blank face as he turns to glance at you.

“i love you, you know that right?” you say with a wide grin on your face and wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him to death.

“i love you too, but i won’t allow you to kill me,” he huffs.

and there’s a good thing of being with him and eating your favourite pack of chocolates. it’s the best combination in the world. and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

౨₊ৎ jisung

“… are you okay pretty?”

jisung was busy on his phone, when he heard a sniffle, followed by another before he looked up to see you standing before the kitchen counter, clutching the counter pretty hard and with your shoulders shaking.

there’s no reply from you and he grows even more concerned. quickly making his way next to you, he silently shuffles and stands behind you, with his head resting on the crook of your neck and hands wrapped around your waist.

he has no clue what’s wrong but he hates this. he hates seeing you cry, regardless of what the reason might be. it breaks his heart even more when you hold his hand tightly and sob without looking at him. and he hates this so, so much especially when he sees the way you try to hide your tears from him. the least he could do was to be there for you when you feel low.

“i’ll be fine,” you mutter, trying to reassure him but he doesn’t budge even a bit. he stands there, glued to his spot, and just stares at you in worry. it’s almost as if he can read between the lines. i don’t want to be a burden, don’t waste your time on me. it makes him feel as if he failed. as if he failed to assure you that you could rely on him, he feels so frustrated because he loves you so much. he loves you so much that it he can’t help but cry along with you.

upon hearing his sniffle, it’s you that turns around shocked to see him already looking at you through tears. you chuckle weakly as he kisses your nose tenderly.

“why did you have to cry? no i’m crying too,” he whines and tries to wipe his tears but they keep flowing.

jisung had once made this rule of what’s yours is his too, looks like he took it too seriously. he takes away all your pain, all your sorrow in minutes. and you can’t even believe yourself sometimes, of how lucky you are to have a partner like him.

“you’re so silly,” you huff and wipe his tear.

“we’re so silly.”

he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, nudging your forehead with his.

౨₊ৎ felix

“she really said that to you?” he voices out his disbelief, as you continue telling how your friend just said something unacceptable.

“i can’t believe this. baby, you need to confront her about it, okay? whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs while pressing a kiss to the side of your head and staying in that position for over a minute.

“she’s my friend though,” you trail off when he sends you a stern look. “friends or not, she can’t just say things like that to you.”

when it came to felix, the most important thing was respect and care. he believed that caring and respecting others is the best way for bonding. even though some people might beg to differ, it’s his personal opinion. and when it came to you… he gets engulfed in this strange, unfamiliar feeling of the need to protect you and keep you safe.

be it even the least harmful ones like just bumping your hand on the wall, keeping the water warm for your bath since you hated it cold and many things that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“are you hungry by any chance?” he asks, while ruffling your hair slowly before brushing them back to make them untangled and gets up, almost about to head to the kitchen but still patiently waiting for your reply.

“it’s fine,” you send him a small smile, making him nod and disappear into the kitchen. minutes later, he returns back with two bowls of ramen and wordlessly places on in front of you and begins digging in.

“i didn’t see any dishes in the sink,” he muttered while glancing down at his bowl, making you pick up your bowl as well.

you found it different. different in a good way, how just talking things out with him is so easy. you don’t have to lie to him. you don’t have to hide your emotions from him. you’re an open book to him. and so is he to you.

౨₊ৎ seungmin

you just wished that you could disappear, if not for long perhaps at least for a day. the way your head is throbbing after your previous break down session is literally the worst feeling in this world (except when your favourite chocolate runs out of the store).

you squint and look around for your medications, but it’s too far away and you don’t even think you have the energy to even speak. but somebody else is faster. a certain someone who’s been watching you closely since the moment he heard you sniffle.

seungmin walks towards you and bends down before handing you a tablet and a glass of water. you give him a small smile and gulp them down together.

“you’ll feel better soon. do you to head to the bedroom to get some sleep?” he murmurs softly and keeps an arm on your knee out of habit.

“it’s fine, i slept in the afternoon anyways,” you reply, making him nod to himself.

there’s silence for a moment before he leaves the room. you look back up when he returns but with a book in his hands and a knowing smile on his face.

he plops next to you, and makes you rest your head on his lap.

with an arm across your stomach and the other holding the book, he begins reading it to you.

you don’t realize when exactly, but in this moment right now, you could feel as if you were bursting out of happiness. out of love and immense affection for the man named kim seungmin.

౨₊ৎ jeongin

“are you asleep?”

it’s been a few hours since he came back home and there is no wonder that he noticed the drastic change in your mood. he didn’t want to point it out thinking you needed time for yourself, but now it was making him feel guilty. he felt guilt creep up into him for not asking you and making you deal with your problems alone.

“not really,” you whisper back and he nods, the action producing a soft sound from the friction of the pillow. a minute later, you toss and face him. his eyes are fixated on you and there’s a sleepy smile that crawls over his face but it drops in an instant when he remembers about your mood earlier.

sighing softly, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and rests his hand on the nape of your neck. “i’m sorry for not asking you how you were feeling when you were clearly having a hard time.”

his voice sounds so… sad that it breaks your heart. you shake your head twice before telling him, “you just did what you thought was best. and it did help me clear out a bit of my head. just forget it, i’ll forget it too.”

he tucks his arm under your head and pulls you into his chest, “i’m sorry.”

jeongin didn’t know what to do except for comforting you at the moment, words were forming very slowly in his head and your answers were almost convincing which made him annoyed knowing how carelessly you brush away your feelings.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks with slight hesitation, his voice no louder than a hushed mutter.

when he receives a nod from you, he smiles to himself and lets his eyes fall shut as he listens to you intently.

your voice slowly trailed off and when he looked down to see your eyes shut, he kissed your forehead gently and tucked the blanket around you properly. at least at the end of the day, he didn’t let you be on your own.

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