#sometimes it doesn't work and it's hard but it's OKAY

[shouyuus]

─── 星穹铁道 POSITIONS

ft dan heng, jing yuan, aventurine, sunday, phainon, mydei; smut/fluff (mostly smut), missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, prone bone, mating press, incoherent bullletpointed ramblings, lapslock, no "y/n", this is deeply unsrs

summary: switchin' up positions for you (jk, they all have their favs)

a/n: i have no excuse. none.

─── 丹恒 DAN HENG

missionary boi

not bc he's boring or anything like that, but mainly bc he's never been the best with words, so he likes it when he can look at you, likes it when he can see you, and you can see him too

he wishes he had the words (sometimes, he wonders what the point of living so many different lives might be if he can't even summon the words to describe them) to tell you how much he loves this, how much he loves --

"is this... is this okay?" "yeah -- it's m-more than okay -- dan heng please --"

he'd have to hold back, even though the feel of your body beneath his feels something like resolution -- and it's always been strange, living in a body that he knows had not always belonged to him, but like this, buried inside you, somehow, he feels at home.

because he can kiss you, graze his lips along yours, pant against your mouth, bury his face in the star-kissed skin of your shoulder when he feels the tide coming, and he lets it come --

"s-sorry... that was..." but you shake your head, laughing, carding a hand through his slightly sweaty bangs, "don't... it was good." dan heng pushes up, his eyes flickering across the planes of your face; something coils in his gut -- desire, or perhaps something more insidious -- the swirling grip of a dragon's greed -- twisting inside him till he he groans, his cock twitching inside you once more.

you hiss, and yes, he thinks, there's no other way he'd have this, have you, than splayed out beneath him, moaning his name, nose to nose, face to face.

─── 景元 JING YUAN

mating press

bc he loves seeing you folded in half, tears pearling along your bottom lashline, your cheeks red, your lips bruised from how hard you've been biting it, fucking down into you till you're writhing in pleasure

he like the feeling of your ankles in his palms, the way he can see when he hits that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, your whole body jolt, likes it when you can't get his full name out, or even better, when the only thing you can manage is a choked out "g-general --!"

bc he loves teasing you, grinning when you hiccup at the way his cock pummels your cervix, or the way he pushes down on your tummy just to keep his own tip press against his palm, "hm? what was that, little dove? it's too much? oh... i think you can take it, right? you've always been so good at taking it for me."

likes the access he has like this, to turn his head and kiss at your calf, or to simply lower his mouth and sink his teeth into the plump of your thigh, revel in the reddened ring it leaves along your skin as you keen beneath him

"fuck, you always get so wet when i fuck you like this -- is it that good? hm?" he chuckles at the way you try to nod, cocks his head, groans at the squelch of his cock sinking into you over and over and over again

"yeah... that's good. that's a good girl for me."

─── 砂金 AVENTURINE

cowgirl

the roi is high with this one; all he's gotta do is lay back and enjoy the view -- ofc, he doesn't let you do all the work -- he'll watch you work yourself up, tease at your nipples, tug on them with his fingers, his eyes half-lidded, an easy smirk painted over his lips, before rolling his hips up into yours just to see you jolt, feel the way you tip forward, how your pussy flutters around his length, hard enough to make his stomach clench

he likes the way you whine when your thighs get sore, likes it when you pout down at him with those watery eyes of yours, beg him to make you cum (because only he can)

"aven-enturine -- 'm so close --" "oh yeah? cum then -- i'm right here, aren't i?" he asks, rubbing his thumb in placating little circles on your thighs, his other hand still pillowed behind his head

he'd make you beg, if only because you sound so damn pretty doing it, but he's not an unfair man -- that'd be bad for business -- so he relents eventually, rocks you down with his palms on your hips, groaning as he feels you tighten with every languid thrust of his cock

shifts his legs up to ruck you up further, better support for your back this way, easier for him to dig his heels into the mattress and fuck up into you till you're bouncing on his cock just the way he likes

"that's right -- ride me -- i know you can do it -- make it all messy for me."

─── 星期日 SUNDAY

prone bone

bc this is a day of rest -- no, but he enjoys the control (sometimes, he wonders what that says about him, still), enjoys how he can feel every inch of your skin pressed against every inch of his, how his breath warms the nape of your neck and he can smell the sweet, milky scent of your shampoo

"shh... just let me -- nngh -- make you feel -- good --"

obsessed with kissing your neck, lacing his fingers between yours, brushing your hair from your back as he fucks you slow; likes the way you tighten around you, the way it feels so much more intimate this way, even though he can't see your face, he can see each tremor as it works through your body, see every goosebump that rises along your skin

(and he really does like the control, like having you beneath him like this, the way you're so soft, how he can shift you this way and that, tug you closer, press you deeper into the sheets, how his cock looks nestled between your ass-cheeks, the friction of it as the bottoms out inside you)

"sunday... ah --" "does it feel good? tell me... tell me what you like --" "w-want more --"

and he'd give it to you, fuck you as hard and as deep as you'd like, till his name on your lips starts to sound like a prayer, till you wrapped around him starts to feel like redemption

"come for me -- show me what you look like --" he breathes, pressing his forehead to the nape of your neck, thrusting down into you hard enough to make the bed rock, "please -- please," he has never been one to beg, but for you -- "please."

─── 白厄 PHAINON

doggy

bc he likes the versatility and faithfulness, he knows the angles, knows just how you like to be fucked -- like this, his hands on your hips, pulling you back, the dull smack of skin on skin echoing around his bedchambers, the linens crumpled beneath your fingers

and occasionally, he likes to reach out, wrap your hair around his palm and tug -- gently, of course, only a small sting, but he's long since learned that a spot of pain might elicit the most mind-numbing pleasure -- after all, isn't that why men have always thirsted for war? for the pain of victory, the delirium of conquering

"f-fucki -- phainon --!" "mm -- that's good -- c-can you keep -- keep going?" he asks, soothing at your waist with his fingers

you nod, and he laughs, a not un-kind sound, nodding as he redoubles his efforts, pressing a palm to the back of your head, pushing down till your cheek is against his pillows; he groans at the tightness of your cunt, the way you push your ass back into him, eager, desperate for more, and he tries to stop himself from going too hard, too fast, but he's never claimed to be the strongest soldier

"ph-phainon --!" your voice breaks along the line of his voice, and he feels the coil burst inside him, fingers digging into your hips, hard enough to leave tiny crescent-moon divots in your skin; he hisses as he shudders, forcing himself to keep fucking into you till he feels you come undone around him as well, a fluttering flurry of heat clamping down around him

he drops his face into your back, breathes out and drops a kiss there, his vision flickering slightly as he steadies himself and tugs you into his arms, the pair of you collapsing onto the bed

"mm... that was good," he remarks, twisting to grin at you with bright, sea-foam eyes, "what do you say to another few rounds?"

─── 万敌 MYDEI

reverse cowgirl

bc he likes to yank on your hair like a pair of reins, likes the way you keen above him, the way you glance over your shoulder with your wide, reproachful eyes, likes smacking at your ass cheeks just to watch you bounce on top of him, harder, harder

"that's it -- that's right -- god that feels good --" and he'd know, wouldn't he? all that fire and ichor running through his veins, he should suffer the pleasure of you, such a priceless treasure, worthy of a king

he likes the noises you make, how you can never keep quiet, whining and whimpering, even as you work yourself up into a frenzy above him, likes the thought of you using him, getting yourself off on his cock, just like this, your eyes half-shut, your hands braced along his thighs

"c'mon, you can do better," he says, "th-that's a good girl," he gasps, grunting as you swirl your hips in a quick figure 8, the friction making his vision dance; he tugs on your hair, your head jerking back as you give a small gasp of pain; he groans as you clench down around him

there's slick running down your inner thighs, sticking to his hips as he lets go of your hair; you tip forward, your ass pushing back; he lets out an appreciative hiss as he reaches forward to grab two handfuls of your ass, helping you work along his cock -- up and down, forward and back

"mydei -- mydei --" you chant his name, half-reproachful, half-pleading; he lets out a puff of breath, giving your ass a quick smack, "almost there, i can feel you -- gonna fill you up, hm? that what you want? wanna be fucked full, don't you?"

your answering keen is all he needs before he makes good on his promise, and in the sweaty-drenched aftermath, he takes you into his arms, presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and cradles you in his arms, "rest," he murmurs against you, "we've got a long night ahead of us yet."

[tchiyya]

So this is a thing I've run into a lot, where I am the person trying to help. This middle paragraph is really, really important to keep in mind:

some people might offer to help them but it's rare they ever know where to start, let alone exhibit compassion without grimace.

For a lot of people who are empathetic, seeing someone in this can tug at you to Do Something, but it is hard and you are gonna get bit a lot. If this is someone you are only casually acquainted with, the best thing you can do is be consistently kind but not dive in trying to be a hero to Fix or Save them. If you don't love this person a whole lot, you're gonna hit a wall pretty quickly and it will genuinely make things worse for both of you.

admittedly, even for genuinely compassionate people, it isn't the easiest thing. if the person is someone who is stuck in their ways or doesn't know you, they don't really have a reason to be receptive to your help. "why should I waste my time on someone who is just going to become another memory of heartache? someone who will carelessly hurt and abandon me?"

Again, save the real intense energy for people that you love. If this is a close family member or a partner or a longtime friend who you've drifted from but who still means a lot to you kinda love. Because this is the mentality, and it is going to take time and energy and patience and a willingness to get hurt and to forgive easily. And, perhaps most importantly: boundaries. You need to be steady enough on your own feet and in who you are and what you need that you can set appropriate boundaries with the person before it's too late.

and such. an earnest attempt to help can feel like an attempted assault to them. at the same time, the meaningful interpersonal relationships that these people need will not survive if built on pity or fleeting self-gratifying feelings of "building" someone into your idea of a desirable person.

That last sentence here is key. You cannot approach helping someone in this with any personal ulterior motivation. You need to want to help them find what they believe is a desirable person to be, and be present, consistently kind, and help give them the tools to build themselves into that person. You don't get to dictate the terms. Nor can you do it for them.

It's gonna take a long time, and you need to set boundaries to make sure you're keeping yourself healthy and steady in the meantime. Understand that they will clutch at that line sometimes like the last thread of their sanity, only to throw it in your face, probably several times. You have to be okay with this. You have to understand that this is them testing to see if you'll pick that line back up and patiently offer it to them again. You also have to be willing to set consistent boundaries for their sake, because they will be testing them like guardrails too. The boundaries help both of you, but only if you are consistent in enforcing them kindly and respectfully, but not terminating the relationship.

You're probably gonna need to go scream into the woods a lot to decompress. Do that.

You're also gonna need a good therapist. Don't attempt this without one. (Rookie mistake.)

And if all of the above sounds terrible and unrewarding? Good. That's a sign that you should not try to be a hero about this. Just be consistently kind to these folks, and let them find their way to you in time. Don't slam the door; they may very well come around eventually.

Source: I've been in a gaslighting abusive relationship before, and I was impossible to reach. The people who were consistently kind and nonjudgemental, but who let me come to them were the ones I'm still friends with. Additionally, I've frequently been on the other side of this in my personal life, and to this day work professionally with abuse victims, people who have been through some real horrific stuff, as well. It takes a lot as a professional, and it takes a lot as a friend.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. It's rare that it matches whatever ideal for them you've cooked up in your head. You gotta let that go asap. But they can find their light, if you meet them where they're at, consistently offer small breadcrumbs of genuine kindness, and let them set the pace.

And for the people who are in this? I'm sorry. Genuinely. That said, if you want out of this, don't look for your knight in shining armor first. Look for the witch at the edge of the woods who puts food out for the strays every day. Hang around her village long enough to build up good relationships with her and her cats over time. Eventually you will be drawn into the village and will find your traveling party, and perhaps even, in time, your prince.

I've seen what happens when people Get Worse. I've orbited a lot of people who Got Worse (especially online). If you listen to people who Got Worse it's all the same: they don't have consistent, meaningful social support, they've been hurt too many times and they can't open up out of fear that the next betrayal is going to drive the knife right through the artery, they end up spending too much time alone and develop secret languages, meanings, thought cycles completely inscrutable to anyone who has never had to rely on such rituals to survive, they get caught in a cycle of reopening and licking their wounds because the progression of time is so unrewarding and stagnant that the past is basically always the present, and the present is already the future, they become mean, they become strange.

some people might offer to help them but it's rare they ever know where to start, let alone exhibit compassion without grimace. admittedly, even for genuinely compassionate people, it isn't the easiest thing. if the person is someone who is stuck in their ways or doesn't know you, they don't really have a reason to be receptive to your help. "why should I waste my time on someone who is just going to become another memory of heartache? someone who will carelessly hurt and abandon me?" and such. an earnest attempt to help can feel like an attempted assault to them. at the same time, the meaningful interpersonal relationships that these people need will not survive if built on pity or fleeting self-gratifying feelings of "building" someone into your idea of a desirable person.

I don't know where I was going with this, but I always found it hard not to see myself as only a few degrees removed from these people. one or two safety nets separated from being completely trapped. unable to feel safe in not just the world but also my own body. a cosmological dead end. I stay away from habitually engaging in the obvious things can that make trying to change when you're at this point difficult (alcohol, drugs, etc), but if temperance is how you maintain stability in the face of rock bottom, you're basically already there, right? you're there and your body just hasn't caught up. maybe I'm just being dramatic because it's late. hows everypony finding the new deltarune chapters.

[goose-duck]

Touching Scars

Ronin Beaufort x Transmasc Reader

A fic in which you touch Ronin's top surgery scars and its cute and fluffy and silly :3

1.2k words ^^

○●○●○●○●○●

It was a quiet day. Nothing of particular interest has happened. No killing. No work. No hijinks on the server. It's just a normal day. You felt at peace. A nice day just to relax with your devilish boyfriend.

The two of you are cuddled up in bed, your face resting softly against his chest. One of his hands slowly carding through your hair, the other holding your upper arm softly as it's splayed across his chest, a gentle caress of his thumb every few minutes.

He looks so gentle like this. Not a killer. Not the butcher. Just Ronin Beaufort. You love all of him, all the danger, and riddles, but it's nice to see him soft sometimes. Just your boyfriend, no other threatening strings attached. No risk of… losing him.

You take in his scent through slow breaths, snuggling close against him in loving security. He snickers softly, “Rubbing against me like a cat now, darlin’?” He teases gently, immitating a cat’s pur to emphasize. No malice in sight, though his hand ceases it's movements through your hair temporarily.

You look up at him with gentle eyes, “Just leaving my scent on what's mine.” followed by a soft giggle of your own.

He leans his head down and kisses the top of your own, mumbling a soft ‘love you’ into your hair as his hand resumes it's comforting motions, softly moving down to your upper back. His thumb brushes gently over your neck, as if to say ‘you're mine too’.

As you lay there, nestled against his chest you get an intimate view of his scars. Something he worked so hard for. Clawed his sense of self out of heavenly damnation in a body not his own. Full determination. A man built through a will to live, not just survive.

It's so beautiful to you. It's something you aspire to understand fully through your own second coming.

You've not mentioned his scars before, not directly. Any of them. But you've always liked to look, and he never requests you stop. He always just gives a soft smile and continues his business.

Your arm laying across his chest moves with caution. You move your hand close to one of his scars. Your fingers slow and delicate, you look up at him again, a silent ask for permission to touch them; to admire, epirence, love.

He looks to you softly, a little confused at first before a small smirk, and soft nod of understanding and permission are caringly presented to you. He moves his hand, once on your arm, now over your hand, guiding it slowly to the scar you wished to meet with your thoughtful finger tips.

Gently you caress it, fingers soft against the rough scar. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, “You don't have to be so gentle. I won't break. Swear it.” He lets out a humorous huff.

You stick out your tongue at him before playfully squeezing his chest. He lets out a small puff of air, one not anticipating you to just go for it, inadvertently squeezing your hand in return.

He nods, “Like that, baby. Don't be afraid.” His hand on your back moves to your shoulder, squeezing gently; a reminder you've done nothing wrong. That he's okay with this.

Despite his reassurance you opt for a more gentle caress the next time. Your thumb brushing over his scar with reverence. With love for all that is him. You giggle a little, speaking softly, “Love you, Ro..”

He hums, “Love you too, Darling.” he speaks, a more gentle tone than he usually would.

You smile up at him once again, he meets your gaze with a less than soft one. Plotting. He's thinking.. Of… Something.

Then you feel his hand move quickly lower, just above your bottom. He gives a small look, hoping you understand what he wants to do, and will give permission. For all the playful teasing, and absurd flirting, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable when you're supposed to be safe with him.

You give a sly smile, then move on your own to be on top of him. Straddling his hips. You lean down and kiss his neck, jaw, cheeks, but not his lips. Not now.

He giggles, and puts his hands on your hips, nearly forgetting his earlier plotting. You look down at him from your spot atop his muscular body. You feel his hand move, squeeze your bottom gently, then shift to your thigh. The other soon following suit, resting with patience against your other thigh.

He chuckles through his words, “What’re ya doin’ there darlin’?” He holds your thighs softly, a gentle squeeze to ensure your attention is kept.

You smile innocently at him, “hmmm… this?�� Your soft smile returns to it’s playful smirk.

You lean down quickly, pressing kisses to his scars, feeling the small ridges against your lips, “I love you! I love you, Ronin. You make me feel do alive. So seen. So real. I love you.” You declare, each sentence dotted with a kiss. Playfulness and truth tethered closely in your mauling display of affection.

He adjusts his hands against your body again, now along your ribs, along the harsh edges of your binder. He rubs his thumbs across it gently, like he's seeing himself in you, seeing your future in your passion. Seeing you, ready to start your life.

“Glad I could help, darling. I'll be here. I'll get you what you need. I'm your little wish fulfillment, after all. Aren't I, baby?” He says softly, pulling you close, whispering against your neck with care laced beneath a thin mask of teasing.

Your face, now so close to his, you nod against him, then pull back slightly. He loosens up his grip a little so you can move how you please. He holds you softly, looking up at you with gentle care. You return the look, a loving passion bubbling in your heart.

You move your fingers along his faded scars once more. A soft look crosses your lightly flushed face, matching his equally tinted cheeks. “I wanna be proud of these too one day.”

He moves his hands to your hips again, a careful rub of reassurance follows, “You will be. You'll get everything you need, and more. You’ll have a body you can be proud of. I promise.” he says, voice that of someone who understands to their deepest core.

You nestle your head against the crook of his neck, settling there happily for the time being. “You really promise?”

He nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head, his hands moving to help you lay comfortably against him again, “Yeah, baby. I'd kill to make it reality.”

You snicker against his neck, the vibrations pulsing through his throat, “I love you, Beaufort.” You press a kiss to the end of the soft spoken words.

“Using last names now, huh, writer darling?” He jests.

You side eye him lightly, “Alright, Butcher.” Softly flicking his shoulder, a silent ‘hush, you’.

He moves you slowly, again, giving himself a good view of your face. He sticks his tongue out before pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Forgot to kiss my lips earlier, baby.” he teases with nothing but love behind his sharp teeth.

You smile back softly, “Sorry, ya silly.” a wink followed by soft playful words, before snuggling back into the safety of his chest, his heart beating with gentle care against your ear.

You remind one last time, “I love you, Ronin.”

He places a hand back against your hair reverently, his fingers lacing in with claim, “I love you too, darlin'.”

[ilikekidsshows]

"Parents think that, as long as they’re loving, their behavior towards their kids can’t be abusive" This here, is so true.

What's hard to digest for some people is the fact that sometimes, parents abuse, come from the place of what they thought as "tough love" instead of hate and the fact that the society normalize it. Parents who abusing their child doesn't necessarily "evil" either, the reason why they think abuse is okay is because they don't even realize what they do is wrong/bad since "many parents also do it".

Of course there also parents who abuse their child because they hate their child like Audrey, but there's a lot of the case where it come from them being misinformed. This is why parental abuse can be confusing, because they can be flip flopping between hot and cool because they loves you and "want the best for you" while disciplining you harshly.

Parents learn to be parenting from seeing how their parents do and how society do it, not fully knowing that it's abuse and continuing generational trauma. Some parents want to stop this generational trauma when they know, some just decided to continue it because "it works for me".

Tbh, it took me years into adulthood to realized that some of what my parents do damaging me. The constant gaslighting, demeaning, the silent treatment and many more was what make me become who I am now. That's why I emphatize more with Adrien since we're very similar. The moment of realization that he had in s5 really similar to what I experienced, the rage, the sorrow, the betrayal... That's why it hurt when Marinette decided to lie to him, because that's what the society do to me. "You're not abused, you just misunderstood your parents. They don't mean it" and I hate it so much. Just because they loves me, just because they don't meant to hurt me, doesn't mean it didn't hurt and damaged me.

---

Yeah, like, the concept of "tough love" is really behind a lot of the thinking that goes into sidelining emotional abuse. The moment I hear someone using that phrase, I just steel myself to hear some bullshit about how "my parents did the same to me and I turned out fine." Buddy, pal, if you had escaped your childhood unscathed, you'd be able to treat your kid like a human being instead of an extension of yourself or an opponent to be outsmarted and controlled.

I'm so glad we've come so far with our media that we now have multiple stories that tackle the topic of generational trauma, the idea that sometimes you hurt others because you were taught that hurting others this way is okay. Intentions don't matter, you can abuse someone unintentionally and, while that doesn't make you a sadist or a monster, it also doesn't mean the other party wasn't hurt just because you didn't mean to be hurtful.

This is the part of the scenario the people behind Miraculous have trouble understanding: that just because someone didn't mean to hurt someone else doesn't mean no harm was actually done. So many conflicts in this series are resolved with the hurt party going: "Oh, I didn't know you had good intentions! No harm done, then!" and that's not how anything works, and so many other children's cartoons understand this concept. You can't "I didn't mean to" away a broken science project, but the same way you can't "I didn't meant to" away ten years of silent treatment. People have a right to be hurt and upset when they've been hurt by someone.

[bingleboy]

hcs of spy (and any other mercs u wanna write) x reader who really likes to pamper them mayhaps? like, constantly preens over them and buys them expensive things?

I love your work bingle *keels over and dies*

ANON I LIKE YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!11111

I'm assuming this means reader is the one spoiling the mercs, so fun!!!

♡ Mercs with an S/O Who Spoils Them - Spy, Scout, Heavy ♡

🗡 Spy 🗡

The first time you buy him an expensive gift, he is so thrown off

No.... that's his thing.... He buys you nice things. what is this

He's just so surprised he's like almost offended

(even though your gift is very thoughtful and he actually does like it)

He replies with a sweet thank you and accepts the gift, but internally he's like "oh i have to one-up this bastard...."

He's a very traditional guy, so he feels like he has to be the one doing things for you, he has to be the "caregiver", he cannot be going soft or getting pampered or any of that nonsense

"Please, mon coeur, you should not trouble yourself with such things. Let me take care of you."

Gift-giving war ensues. He will go broke before he lets you win

Eventually you guys will talk about it and he'll calm down and realize it really isn't a competition, you just show love in a similar way

It takes time for him to get used to the idea of being "spoiled" by someone else, but I think he'd learn to like it a lot, actually

It's a refreshing change from his previous relationships

You settle into a better balance of constantly preening over each other and treating each other to nice things

A little playful competition is still there

everyone else hates you guys kjasjkfhjfj

⚾️ Scout ⚾️

He's shocked, but 100% excited immediately

He's also got that mindset that he shouldn't be the one getting spoiled by anyone, but that mindset changes very fast when you give him nice things asjhfdsjkdg

He appreciates typical fancy stuff, like cologne or nice clothes, stuff like that, though its not his usual style

What would really excite him though is stuff like Tom Jones merch, comic books, maybe some guns idk, baseball cards

He totally overreacts to every personalized gift

"OH MY GOD! Babe, is this for real 'Reload' SIGNED by Tom Jones?! YOU ARE DA BEST I LOVE YOU"

Attacks you with hugs and kisses as thanks

Oh my god he would love it if you literally preened over him. Like fixing his clothes and telling him how handsome he is. He's in HEAVEN he'll be blushing and trying very hard to play it cool

Shows off everything you get him to the whole team, rubs it in their stupid faces, definitely wants them to be jealous

🥪 Heavy 🥪

Confused at first

He seems like a guy who likes mostly basic things, but he'll use the nice things you get him anyway

"You know you do not need to buy things for Heavy, yes? We make the same amount of money."

When he learns it's how you express your love, he feels a lot more flattered whenever you get him something

And, you discover his weak spot: weapons, especially anything related to maintaining Sasha

When you get him a gift he loves, he'll like stare at it and turn it over in his hands a few times, just soaking it in. Then he'll turn to you and say thank you, and give you a sweet kiss

He tries to repay your gifts by spending more time with you and cooking for you

He'll insist you don't have to fuss over him, but he doesn't protest much because he likes it heehee

He likes feeling pretty sometimes okay. Sometimes he likes feeling bonita. He likes feeling worthy of fussing over <3

thank u for the request!! :] *keels over and dies*

[asiatic-apple]

I needed to take a breather after reading this because I was sobbing SO HARD

For the thousandth time, I will scream at the top of my lungs that Star writes the most beautiful sentences and pure POETRY!!

This part was worded so well that I felt like I was experiencing the strange feeling of living many previous lives myself 😭 I adore this

Something that felt like yours, but not. A dream, or a vision. A promise of something that was supposed to come, or already had. The strangest rush of déjà vu you'd ever experienced.

I also love how you handled this aspect of their relationship throughout the beginning of the fic. It felt so realistic to me—like Xav saying he doesn't expect her to be different from who she is now, UGH I LOVE THAT DETAIL bc I would probably be worrying about that in the back of my head if I was her.

Okay sorry sorry, I'm rambling but I gotta put the other moments I'm obsessed with:

The proposal!!! GAH I LOVE HOW SWEET IT IS! The way you write Xavier is so wholesome, like seriously I am so obsessed.

"I want our life in pictures that I can look at with you. I want our books sharing the same shelves. I want to grow a garden together. I want to go to sleep with you, to dream of you, and wake up to you."

THE ROMANCE OF IT ALL RAHHHHH

"I want to get a little jealous sometimes—"

"A little?"

"And I want to keep you in our bed for days until you can't walk—"

"Xavier!"

Hehe I love their banter so damn much 🤭 and Xav's lines had my stomach doing somersaults

I want to go grocery shopping with you, and hold hands on the subway after work, and do taxes together."

Star, is that part a slight reference to Everything Everywhere All at Once? 🥹🥹 bc it kinda reminded me of it, and even if it isn't a reference, I still ADORE this line.

Oh goshhhh I am so sorry for the novel, but this fic was just such perfection

paper rings (and all my dreams)

summary: you find the shoebox of memories that xavier has kept of all your lives together.

★pairing: xavier x reader/MC ★wc: 1.3k ★content: fluff, emotional and really mushy. established relationship, reader is aware of past lives, nostalgia, talk of previous lives, in the moment proposal, very brief suggestive words. nickname for xavier: love. nickname for reader: starlight. ★a/n: I've had this idea for a while, and that trailer drop gave me the motivation to finally write it!

Silence isn't a foreign reaction when it comes to Xavier.

The man had always been quiet, aloof. Stoic with strangers, and it had taken you time to learn the subtle intonations of his voice, the shifts in his expression when he was happy or sad.

He'd slowly gotten better at portraying his emotions to you, just as you had learned to read him as well as his favorite books that lined the shelves of his apartment.

But when he walks into you sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, in the center of miscellaneous memorabilia, he's completely silent again, harder to read than he used to be.

"Sorry," is the first word from your mouth, setting down the folded paper in your hands.

Xavier stares at the pale blue paper, and the lavender colored paper ring it goes with, both sitting innocently in front of you.

There's a distant, hazy memory of folding them. A late afternoon, school uniforms, a wooden sword. A sweet smile that had always been for you, then and now. Butterflies in your stomach, heart racing in your chest. Promises in paper of never being apart.

Something that felt like yours, but not. A dream, or a vision. A promise of something that was supposed to come, or already had. The strangest rush of déjà vu you'd ever experienced.

Xavier's eyes glaze over, far away from here, and you rush out, "I just—I was looking for that photo album, and I didn't—I was curious, and I didn't think you'd mind. I'm so—"

"It's okay."

His voice eases you in an instant, and he carefully steps around each preserved physical memory until he's sinking down next to you. He lifts a folded note, handing it to you, and your heart skips a beat when you open it.

Words are scrawled back and forth along every inch of the lined page, along with doodles of shooting stars and flowers. You brush your thumb over the familiar scrawl of his letters, asking to meet up after class again, and then look towards the even more familiar handwriting.

"Was this…" You swallow, brows furrowed, still struggling with the surge of countless memories that swam through your mind now. "…me?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, pensive, as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Reading over the innocent conversation passed between friends in the back of a classroom. "I kept stuff from the first time I met you. And the second. And now, too."

"I can tell," you murmur, glancing over the movie tickets from one of your first dates. Used hotpot coupons, pressed flowers, bookmarks he'd borrowed from you, leftover photobooth pictures.

"I'm sorry," he's the one to mumble it this time, and you try to look at him, but his face is buried against your neck, refusing to let you see. "I need you to know that I don't expect you to be anybody other than who you are now. I just…"

"I know, love," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.

For as long as he lived, and long it was, he never wanted to forget.

He never wanted to forget you.

You let him hide his expression against you until he's ready to show it, and you smile down at him when he lets you see his honesty, and his anxiety. Face flushed, eyes wide and uncertain, then fluttering closed when you press a kiss to his frown, easing all that tension away.

"Tell me about it?" you ask, any possible trepidation erased by hope, nostalgia you wanted to make your own as much as his. "About…me?"

You gravitate towards the faded charms that are tied together, two stars linked. His lashes flutter when you lift it, tears clinging to the ends when you smile at the plush fabric.

Turning back to him, your smile widens, thumb wiping away the tear that stubbornly escapes his eyes.

"About us?"

He blinks a few times, wiping his other eye, and reaches for the paper rings.

"The first time I met you, you were sweet, and shy, and saw me when nobody else did." He runs his thumb along the purple paper, tracing each crease in the folds. "I liked you so much, but we ran out of time."

He takes your hand in his.

"The second time, you were fierce, a force to be reckoned with, and fought me on everything." He smiles, a chuckle caught in his throat, as his fingers gently caress your ring finger. "I knew I was in love with you then. I knew I always had been. But I let you down. I'm sorry I let you down."

"And now?" you breathe out, meeting the question in his gaze with a nod.

"Now," he whispers, sliding the paper ring up onto your finger until it's nestled where it was always meant to be, "you're kind, and you're relentless, and I love you. You're the strongest person I know, and you feel like home, and the rest of my life. You're everything to me."

Xavier's forehead rests against yours, his nose nuzzling against yours. Then along your cheek, until his lips are pressed to your ear, so you don't miss a single word.

"I want our life in pictures that I can look at with you. I want our books sharing the same shelves. I want to grow a garden together. I want to go to sleep with you, to dream of you, and wake up to you."

He's holding you tighter and tighter, and you're giggling, burying your face against his neck when he keeps rambling.

"I want you to tell me my cooking is bad, and that I drive too fast, and that I snore a little sometimes. I want you to get mad at me and I want to make it better. I want to be a better person for you."

"Xavier—"

"I want to get a little jealous sometimes—"

"A little?"

"And I want to keep you in our bed for days until you can't walk—"

"Xavier!"

You're laughing, and he's laughing, and you pull back to cup his face in your hands. You see him now with no more masks, no cards kept against his chest. Just him, and you, and what sounds like…

"Xavier," you say again, slowly, watching his eyes widen when you ask, "are you proposing right now?"

The prettiest pink blooms across his cheeks, and his eyes dart away, then back again when you gently shake his face for his attention.

"I'll do it again. I'll do it better," he promises, and you laugh, a choked but happy sound. He looks back down at the paper ring on your hand, his blush spreading to his ears. "I'll get you a better one."

"I like this one," you stubbornly insist, and now he laughs, his body beginning to emit a golden glow that only grows brighter.

To make your point, you take his hand in yours, sliding the blue paper ring onto his finger until it fits just as snugly as the one on yours.

"I want all that too," you whisper, gazing up at him, and you hear his breath catch in his throat. "I want you when you laugh, and when you're pouty, and all jealous too. I want to kick you out of the kitchen when you make the smoke alarm go off again. I want to go grocery shopping with you, and hold hands on the subway after work, and do taxes together."

His nose wrinkles. "I hate taxes."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss the pout right off his face again. He leans in for another when you pull back, and you melt into him, wrapped around each other for kiss after kiss.

"But I'll do them with you." Xavier rests his face against your neck again, your fingers running through his hair. "I'll do everything with you, my starlight. Always."

You smile, looking at the paper ring on your hand. Grateful for every version of you that you'd been, for every you that he's loved. That you found each other again, and get to be in love now.

"Always," you murmur, and hold him close.

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked ⭐️ Xavier fics: @santaluna @itsmysmut @onigiriinthecorner @inzayneforaj 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl @draftbeerbibi @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @slovesyouuu @ineffabl-y @grlyeetswrld @toelady @asiaticapple

[glitteringdust]

Ship Sleeping Dynamics

Was tagged by @cute-ellyna to do this for my angst crimes, and it was so very fun <3

Tagging: @rsenak @vasheden @madamemortem @imrowanartist @bonesandivy @inquisimer

How often do they sleep together?

In the beginning, it was hard to get Kal to stay. Davrin would often wake to the bed cold beside him, not thinking anything too much about it at first but after a few more times his curiosity gets the better of him. Kal eventually admits he doesn't usually sleep very well, and most people end up annoyed by his restlessness. After they've established what they are is more than a fling, Kal is there every night.

Where do they sleep?

During VG it's in Davrin's room because he has the nicest bed. On very rare occasions they end up in Kal's it's usually after he flees a nightmare and comes to watch the fish swim and Davrin will always show up, throw a blanket over the both of them and the silence is all they need. (Kal usually ends up nodding off after that and Davrin doesn't mind the kink in his neck the next morning)

After VG, their home is on the road. They sleep wherever they can. Under the stars, some hidden inn, it's doesn't matter as long as the other is beside them. I do have a belief that eventually they'll settle in some cabin somewhere to live out their days.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Kal does some sort of stretching before bed because the deep breathing settles his thoughts, and the ambient energy within him has somewhere to go. He also has to brush his hair and put it up in loose bun so it's not a huge mess the next day. Davrin helps with this on the days Kal's fingers feel frozen (a result of too much fire magic, a defense mechanism) and sometimes just because it puts Kal into a very relaxed state.

Davrin I think either sketches something-- something he'd been working on already, or something new they'd seen that day. It isn't until almost losing him to the Fade that Kal starts to get his own sketch entries in the journal.

Otherwise, when they lay in bed together Kal wants what I call in real life 'pets' which is what it sounds like. Davrin running his fingertips down and along Kal's arm, shoulder, even his back depending on how they're laying. Sometimes they'll talk, sometimes (okay a lot of the time) it ends up turning into sex.

What do they wear to sleep?

Davrin sleeps in his smallclothes 99% of the time. Kal usually wears a much-too-big shirt with an unknown origin over his, at least until he starts to wear Davrin's shirt instead.

Do they cuddle?

They're both glued to each other almost the entire night. If Davrin rolls over, Kal does too. If he sleeps on his back, Kal's resting his head on Davrin's chest. Where Davrin is definitely an inferno to sleep next to, Kal runs cold.

How easily do they fall asleep?

Davrin sleeps pretty easily, but Kal takes a while. There's a lot of noise in his head before and during sleep (mage + darkspawn dreams, yay!) so it takes a while to finally drift off. His usual strategy is to sleep when the feeling hits him, which means naps but VG events aren't always nap friendly.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Davrin does a lot more than Kal does, but only during the worst of his nightmares later on.

Do they snore?

I think they both do, but Kal only when he's deeply asleep or had been drinking the night before. It's nothing that wakes the other, but it definitely can be heard by others when camping outside the Lighthouse.

Who hogs the blankets?

Kal does, because he's always cold so he tends to tuck the blankets under him so Davrin can't uncover him when rolling over. They get Kal a second blankets to fix that issue pretty quick.

What do they dream about?

Typical darkspawn dreams (incoherent, or music just out of range) but Kal often has dreams about talking mushrooms and Davrin has a recurring dream where Assan talks in an Orlesian accent.

How easily do they wake up?

Kal is hard to wake once his is asleep, he can only really wake up if it's naturally on his own. Davrin always wakes first. He feeds Assan and somehow manages to bring breakfast back for Kal for when he does wake. Usually something simple like toast or fruit.

How awake are they afterward?

If it's naturally, Kal will be wide awake. If it's outside that specification, he will be grumpy and grumble a lot until he starts to feel like himself. Could be hours, just let him get it out of his system. Davrin is usually fairly awake once he's up, but can be coaxed back to bed if it's deemed to early for Kal's liking.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 82-85)

THAT LAZYBONES!!

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[thelastwhimzy]

trained ourself into becoming more compassionate and kind too well and now our default is to immediately to go into the fawn response and let people walk all over us 😔

[iwakuraz]

I think all my stuffed animals protect me from nightmares. they are the guards of my mind while I sleep

[moe-broey]

I don't think this is Moe's first offense (saying something brazen/flippant) but I do think it's the first time it's called the King a bitch. And it won't be the last! The funniest part of Anna being the one to take charge and chew Moe out is that it gives Moe the opportunity to do The Exact Same Thing to Alfonse one-on-one (you know... to test the waters... to see how he feels about it....). Which it is. Also promptly chastised for.

FAVE PANELS...

[cathymee]

we're all wasting our time the earth should just explode soon <3

[foxgirlmoth]

I feel like spiraling is always described as a quick thing but let me tell you. Girls will get afraid and slowly spiral for months I think.

[camborger]

🔍 how to tell if your coworker is misogynistic or you're just really sensitive and maybe lame

[hidingoutbackstage]

copy pasting my dms w/ @jewishevelinebaker cuz i'm lazy

y’know re characters aren’t even storytelling mediums. they don’t have to be. but ppl act like they are lol

whether it’s leon’s alcoholism or chris’ inability to keep team members alive or how wesker was tooootally mischaracterized as a fascist in 5 i swear guys it isn’t really him, they’re not actually saying anything. leon’s not a glance into how being a pawn for the u.s. government can have harrowing effects on witnesses of war and forcing people to make difficult decisions that weigh heavily on their psyche, he’s just drinking alcohol in vendetta because it’s a character trait they gave him. chris’ repeated failures to keep teammates alive isn’t a commentary on how the “greater good” sacrifices the many small man with little remorse in order to keep things in line the way they see fit, the games just throw npcs at a meat grinder to emphasize the danger the protagonist is in. wesker being a nazi in 5 isn’t a way of showing the way that privileged men in power left unchecked and surrounded by yes men will do the most unethical things possible because it’s in their mind that they are correct and the only right way of thinking, it’s because the series needed wesker to be a big final boss and well umbrella is already kinda nazi affiliate so fuck it this will do

[stellerssong]

HOW am I supposed to fit "doesn't actually like musicals" into the existing Swan lore. It's too early in the morning for this

oh i can answer this! when i say i "don't like musicals" i mean it in the same sense that people who have written hundreds of thousands of words of star wars fanfic say "i hate star wars and i wish it was good" or when people who can pinpoint down to the run, issue, page number, panel, and speech bubble where you should start reading their favorite comic say "one day i'm going to burn down dc headquarters and i'm not joking." hope this helps!