#sorry I am not more articulate in my answer

[mymp3]

trailer talk

[neo-shitty]

spring day never latches on to a permanent face. it takes the form of the people i miss whom i have no way of reconnecting with. ever since i read that message in my inbox, it has taken the form of you, kesya.

[sabertoothwalrus]

OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.

MMMMM what a fun question!!!

I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.

one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.

something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!

as far as inspirations go!

my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.

my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.

ATLA has some great expressions

OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up

A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc

memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind

and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.

talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi there, ive come from your post about ADHD and emotional disregulation, firstly thank you so much for putting it into words, its such a complicated part of how i deal with emotions and i havent ever been able to articulate how to why.

Secondly, in that post you mentioned how you've used stress as a motivator and how eventually your stress regualtion broke, i was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about that? (If not, its not a problem)

I feel like the same thing has happened to me but until i read your post i had no idea that something had... snapped? I suppose? I struggle with motivation all the time and in the past id have a week or a few days left and id be able to suddently push myself very hard to complete whatever it is before the deadline, just barely making it in most cases. However now it seems that i can't find that motivation anymore, deadlines come and pass and i can't being myself to work on anything, and i just end up spiralling into shame and guilt. That motivation was the only thing that I was able to rely on sometimes for things like uni, and i conviced myself that it was just me growing lazy or trying to get out of responsibility as to why the "last minute panic-mode" doesnt work anymore.

Again, if you don't wanna tackle this can of worms or if it's something youd rather not post online i totally get it, its no biggie! thanks so much for making the original post as well, it means a lot

Hello friend, thanks for the message. I'm sorry you're also dealing with this.

The good news here is that I've already talked about this using the rubber band analogy my therapist gave me. (Stress is like a Rubber Band)

If you don't have the mental bandwidth to read all of it now, the tl;dr is "stress is like a rubber band; it can stretch to hold numerous things in place when you need to, but if you do it too often or keep adding more and more strain under the band, the elastic eventually becomes brittle and snaps, taking your mental and sometimes physical health with it too."

I've been in intensive therapy for this for roughly three years now, and trying to piece my brain back together after my last bout of stress-induced productivity gave me a total mental breakdown.

It's... odd not being able to use stress and having to actively avoid it to avoid a relapse. But it is doable. Medication would help, but alas, I've got weird health issues and am unmedicated at the minute.

(And just in case that sparks anyone to go, "Oh, you do all this unmedicated! Wow, that's so inspiring!" as sometimes parents do to me on here as they then tell me they don't want to medicate their kids, I've unfortunately also written a post about what that kind of success looks like from an unmedicated perspective and the kind of suicidal ideation I deal with on the regular because I cannot take meds. It is not pleasant reading, but it is necessary for some folks, specifically anti-med, "if you just tried harder" people.)

A book you may find helpful is Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It was very validating for me to read about other people going through the same things, and made me feel less of a "this is a personal failing on my part" and more of a "Oh okay yeah, no stress literally breaks people."

It helped soothe some of my own internalized "I just need to try harder" and helped cement me on the path I was already going down with my ADHD therapist toward changing how I view myself and how I manage my ADHD.

I hope that helps! If you've got more specific questions or I didn't touch on something in my old post, I can try to answer them :)

[wraithdance]

https://www.tumblr.com/wraithdance/765961917651140608/i-really-liked-your-explanation-of-the-whole?source=share

I am really bad at articulating my thoughts but I think about this a lot as someone who hopes to 1- major in neuroscience (i'm 18, going to uni next year) and 2- is trans. I know being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, very cognizant of that, but more to the point where I relate to the aspect of not being able to get over the like mental wall of seeing "neutral" readers as me? I don't know what my brain is doing when i read certain fics but sometimes i can't do it.

I feel like I should close read some of my favorite fic and least favorite fic to see if there are triggers I didn't notice on the first read. does that make sense or seem similar to what you experience? Again I know it's not the same thing, but like i am so curious as to what cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white.

I am sorry if this bothers you, really not my intentions, I am obviously a future brain nerd and i can't stop thinking about this

Congratulations fellow Nerd! You've activated my interest in Race theory and fandom writing from an academic perspective!

Writing reflects life and to answer this question properly, I have to talk about life shit to catch you up to speed, (this should help if you take a sociology or cultural anthropology class lmao) So, Welcome to:

Calvary yaps: Sociology & Intersectionality in fandom writing 101!

Disclaimer: I'm just a random bitch on the internet who loves English and the ridiculousness of social hierarchies, this will be referencing American social constructs and in groups only, with a focus on my experience as a Black American woman who reads a shit ton of books. Don't fight me if you hate my explanation, I will simply not respond.

Read my house rules before sending me an ask, I'm just being a dumb ass rn and word vomiting my interests, so pls i beg no follow up questions unless I say I'm open to em later.

Definitions to know:

Socialization: the act of preparing individuals to participate in society by learned social norms taught in ones family or social settings like school/friend groups. (one can be socialized in gender, race, cultural practices, etc.)

Social Hierarchies: systems of social organization in which some individuals enjoy a higher social status than others (in my opinion this is a lingering safety measure from lizard brain cavemen hunter/gatherer days)

Intersectionality: A term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw; The process of acknowledging the unique parallels a marginalized person experiences when they have more than one marginalization (ie: race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, size, etc.)

Matriarchal society: Social groups/family structures that center female figures as representatives of authority.

Implicit Bias: Unintentional bias a person may have towards a group or individual based on learned stereotypes, prejudices, perceptions based on another's background or state of being.

first, yes anon you are making sense! So the main question:

'What cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white?'

I've been mulling this question around in my head for a few days and tried to figure out how to articulate this without going into depth in Sociological theory, but I can't! So here we are lmao, this is long as fuck so TLDR here.

I've talked to a LOT of Black and PoC people over the last months because I thought I was the only one who felt strange or could tell immediately when a writer was white, despite doing the best job they could to be neutral.

Every person I spoke to agreed they could tell right away even if we don't share similar racial backgrounds.

The answer I've come up with to why that is, is because white people are socialized (taught by society/their parents how to behave) in a way many black and PoC people are not, so their reader characters will often act in a way PoC people have learned not to, so it flags for many of us.

I plan to answer another question about this at a later date so an example is with shit like:

An over deference to hyper masculine male characters (for PoC cultures like certain Black/Latine groups that are often matriarchal in nature and don’t ascribe to as many traditional gender roles, this is a flag), lack of interpersonal/familial connection, over meekness, no challenging of external factors so things just HAPPEN to the reader and lack of awareness of surroundings to name a few. 

A lot of the language of the irl world places white cis people from Western countries as the default and everyone else as others. In which, PoC people have learned to navigate the world very carefully with a hyper-focus on what will potentially bring them harm/scrutiny/ostracism especially in white dominant spaces.

That extends to when we have down time while reading or partaking in media smfh.

I'm sure you've had to learn the same as a trans person navigating cis spaces and it's the same with any marginalization! If you are disabled you have an awareness of able bodied people and their expectations, same with being fat amongst skinny people, etc.

The more marginalizations you have, the louder the rules of social hierarchies become. Which is why many marginalized ppl stick close to those who 'get it' in their social groups as an act of safety in numbers. (Many of us attempt to have strong family connection/harmony because of this)

So referring to your comment about being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, it is when you are a Black or PoC trans person! My angel face @/buttdumplin has spoken a lot about that as a Mexican transman reading fics by cis people!

(Please for the love of God no one come to me explaining how marginalized they are so they shouldn't be lumped in with the white ppl PoC are cognizant of, I will check myself into a psych ward)

So what does that gotta do with reading fics?

No matter what anyone thinks, it is damn near impossible to not frame your writing from the perspective of your lived experiences. It's why even when I try my hardest to make my characters not sound Black, they will always read that way because I have been Black all of my life!

And it doesn't just happen with race, go on tiktok and search male authors writing women. (or here's another article lmao)

Also ask a Southerner how they know someone has never been to the South and don't know shit about our accents when they write Graves. There are linguistic tells that flag off and why we flame actors who pick up southern accents for their roles.

(They chew on that terrible goddamn Appalachian or Louisiana Accent not realizing Southern accents come in many fonts.)

So when I read a fic about Kyle Garrick from a non black person, I can tell the writer is non black by linguistic implications, the things they emphasize about him and what they don't. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading fics from non black people, I can just tell!

And sometimes that means I, and other PoC's associate the Reader as a white OC while reading fics.

For example, all black people are not monolithic because of our cultural and regional experiences, but many of us share common threads. That's usually family involvement, colloquialisms, that stupid fucking cookie tin our elders put sewing supplies in...

Other non Black PoC people might share similar cultural practices, so when I'm reading fics from say a latina, I will cock my head and go wait.... are you...? And surely enough, they are a person of color. 

But even while reading from a non black PoC, I have to tread carefully because anti black sentiment exists in many cultures, which is why you'll hear me say Black and PoC/Non black people interchangeably.

It’s how the conversation of Implicit bias comes up, because unknowingly non white characters can sometimes be written with a hyper focus that makes them seem inhumanly one characteristic or with little to no background while the other characters are fully fleshed out.

like the character of color is just a stand in to move the plot around white characters forward. 

So all that to say, without sometimes meaning to white writers will always sound off to me in a way that my brain can pick up on in the most minuscule ways because my awareness of my blackness/otherness has been drilled in from birth and reinforced by social norms.

I can even tell immediately if a white person has been around only white spaces their whole life with the jokes they tell lol.

In the grand scheme of things the race of the writer is most important to me when something jarring comes up that slaps me away from the experience, it explains so much of the disconnect.

Every marginalized person has a threshold for what they can ignore as a ‘trigger’ before they’re ejected from reader inserts, mine is usually the association with racial historical happenings, certain gender dynamics, etc.

It's why I mention crying like a little bitch when I read my friend Jess's (Kyletogaz) TF 141 Hair series, Dragon’s (Dragonnarative-writes) Transferrable Skills, and even Xavi's (Buttdumplin) Piercing fic.

Reading those fics felt like safety and familiarity. It was a moment where I realized I could drop the mental load I had no idea I was carrying, where I was trying to prepare myself for potential emotional damage and just READ.

It's also why as a Black person who fucks with kink and sex work it's been so touch and go when navigating dark fics/kink fics/fics about Sex workers.

Because there are different rules of engagement non white kinksters have to be aware of and that leads to a point on the collective vs. Individual experience as a PoC in kink, that I’ll eventually make a post about at some point or another. Maybe…

So yeah I’m tired of yapping. I hope this long shit was enough of an explanation!! Thanks to my friends Kiko, Jules, Xavi and Folded for yapping with me so I could articulate this better!!

[nocturnalfandomartist]

hi !! its nice to meet you, im bee!! your art is GORGEOUS!!!!!!!!!! random icebreaker, who's your fav character to draw? 💛

Okay, I've been itching to answer this! Sorry for the wait, I've been super busy but I wanted to answer this one with some doodles!

It's a bit hard to decide, but spoiler alert: it's Zelda. Just all of the Zeldas; it rotates between them often! I especially enjoy designing my own versions (@loz-untold-myths), but one I've had the most fun (and difficulty) drawing lately has been my design for the ancient princess who fought the first Calamity! I headcanon her to be Rauru and Sonia's daughter.

Here's some doodles of her regarding her design's inspirations! ^^ I've been trying to work on her consistency. Thanks so much for the ask and your kind words! It means a whole lot!!! ♡

(Am I using this as an excuse to draw her a bunch and differentiate her from her mother? Maybe a little bit. Understandably, she keeps getting tagged as Queen Sonia...).

More art of her since the doodles sort of don't show the whole design:

Some more info about this design if you're curious! ✦

Hair

▪︎Zelda's hair is by far the most complicated piece despite it not appearing such.

▪︎Her little hair spikes at the back are exaggerated to resemble ALttP Zelda's. :)

▪︎Her hair is mostly the same as Rauru's, even down to the under highlights, but the blonde and white are inverted to resemble her mother's hair.

▪︎Zelda has yet another "under" layer of her hair, made up of white thinner hair that goes from the sides of her head and onto the back/top of her ears. (A small note: Zelda's ears are just as articulate as Rauru's as well, making for a very expressive princess).

Body

▪︎Zelda is given her mother's skin tone, but she has BotW Zelda's body type, face shape, and eye shape (but Sonia's eyelashes).

▪︎Zelda has body paint with patterns of the Light Dragon and Sheikah symbols. She has facepaint more like her aunt Mineru's, highlighting her third eye that resembles the Light Dragon's.

▪︎Zelda's nails are sharp, almost like claws. They are made of the same denser material that Zonai claws are made of; being just as sharp and hard to break.

Clothes

▪︎ Silent Princesses, which have begun to bloom in the wild thanks to the Light Dragon's creation, are woven into her hair.

▪︎The design on her banner is the same shape as the banner on BotW Zelda's royal gown.

▪︎The robes combine the shapes of both of BotW/TotK Zelda's prayer dresses.

▪︎The bracelets are slightly altered versions of BotW Zelda's. The belt is a blockier version of the one in BotW Zelda's robes to replicate the shape/structure of Sonia and TotK Zelda's ornamentation. She has lotus earrings like Mineru and Sonia.

▪︎ She has one arm where the golden bracelet continues into other accessories like the Zonai's, paired with a long blue sleeve underneath.

She has more outfits than this, even a Sheik personality, but these doodles alone somehow took almost seven hours. ^^" If you've read this far, thanks for indulging in my rambling!!

༺

REBLOGGING IS ENCOURAGED, BUT DO NOT REPOST.

[maikissed]

cherry flavoured lips part 5

Kylian Mbappéx reader

summary: No pretence, no lies, no avoidance. Just them and nothing around to ruin it. At last. She only regretted that they made it harder for themselves to achieve it.

warning: smut

note: I've been struggling with the smut. Ended up hating it LOL.

She was angry, to say the least. She did not have any organized plan or vision for the future tucked up in her head, that she would find now ruined and lost after Ian unceremoniously left her. And she was not upset, or heartbroken, oh that she definitely wasn’t. She focused for a minute, tried to find a minuscule source that might have given her any sign that deep inside she was in fact sorrowful after being rejected, or was she? Truthfully, she was the one that initiated this unprecedented conversation between them. And as the result was expected and anticipated even, she still found herself mad at how it all turned out at the end. Like she found herself at the same miserable spot she was in before.

“It was a very simple question, Ian” she articulated calmly.

Ian seemed irritated, uncomfortable.

“You are asking if I love you, but cannot give me a straight answer yourself” he commented, gazing up at her.

She was standing so unnatural and stiffly, facing him, towering over him, like they were going through some kind of trial. She was the prosecutor, and he was the suspect waiting for more charges fired his way. Yet the roles might be reversed in a blink of an eye and there was a high possibility that it would be her facing the death penalty at the very end. Who was going to pass the sentence? Her palms were itching.

“I asked you first, it’s important to me” bold, cool and reserved.

“So my answer defines yours? That’s how you see it?” he squinted his eyes searching for a trick, a deceit.

He turned distrustful. She was aware what caused it.

She sighed, dropping her arms, already feeling worn out by this conversation.

“Do you know how I see it?” Ian started after few seconds and she turned her head back to him in alert “I think you’re running from something and that exhausting getaway has pushed you into my arms” he nodded and she frowned in question “I am not blind, y/n, I can tell that the only person you really want is him”

She said nothing, swallowing something big and bulky that started to form in her throat. No words came out still, she just shook her head. In her own defence? A mere, pitiful try. 

“Why are you doing this? Are you trying to punish him or yourself? Because clearly this is not about me” he seemed to enjoy this upper hand. But there was a dull ache visible in his eyes, like he felt deceived “That is actually funny to be honest, even when we are having sex you seem disappointed when you open your eyes and look at me”

“Oh, what in the hell, Ian?” she moaned in resentment, feeling uncomfortable under his investigating stare. And agitated by the choice of his words.

She turned into a suspect, much closer now to be announced as convict. 

“You know what, I’m sorry” he reached with his hand to scratch his brow “I don’t want to fight with you like that. I am not angry with you, just feel a little used, that is all” he muttered softly and as he looked down at his hand and then back up at her the ache made place for generous ease. He was waiting for a perfect moment to let it all out, she gave him one.

And her? She was not sorrowful, she did not feel the despair flooding her heart and sinking it at the bottom of her stomach. She took one deep breath and wondered when the feeling of love turned her into a stone. A cold statue, an insensitive performer. She toyed with him all this time. And that thought actually made her a tad sullen.

“I’ll pack my things, I have a flight back to London in three hours” were Ian’s next words.

She shuddered, bringing her gaze back to him.

“I am sorry” her voice weak and abashed “It was not my intention to treat you this way” and this was an honest confession.

And he smiled at her in answer, almost like realising how everything sooner or later falls back in it’s place.

-

Fleur very much enjoyed when Ethan and Kylian were visiting with their parents, joining the family for a dinner from time to time. She liked the company of these two boys and their father, Wilfried was absolutely one of the most entertaining people she knew. He liked to narrate the most captivating stories and was not irritated by her oh so many questions she liked to throw in in the middle of his story. He was very patient, her father was too, but she knew her father too well for him to be so amusing. Fayza, on the other hand, was giving off the impression of a very intense and fierce woman, that’s why Fleur was watching herself to not be too pushy towards her, although she was kind and lovely. It was her demeanour that brought much respect in Fleur, for she made sure to be polite and careful. Still at the end of the day she was a sweet aunt.

“Ethan, are you growing out your hair?” she started in her funny, so much adult voice and the boy smiled at her after he greeted her.

“Yes, kind of” he grinned “Do you think it suits me?”

“Not really” she shrugged carelessly and then her ears reached a characteristic laugh from behind them.

She was always playful with Ethan, because he was playful with her. She beamed when she noticed Kylian enter the anteroom.

As she reached with her arms to hug him she could not fight the excitation over the news she so desperately wanted to announce to him. Maybe it was not her place, but she just… couldn’t keep it in.

“They’ve broken up, you know” she smiled sheepishly and he kneeled in front of her handing her a sweet little bouquet of flowers.

“Who?” he knitted his brows questioningly.

A bigger bouquet in his other hand, probably for Fleur’s mother. And a lovely present bag under it.

“Y/n and Ian” she rolled her eyes in a “duh” kind of manner “Good for her, I feel like he was sucking out the life out of her, can you believe it?” she huffed in displease.

“Well, people bond and sometimes part, that’s the way of life” seemed like a proper answer to this young girl.

It almost made him laugh out loud when he noticed her judgemental frown as she stared at him. Something like “don’t give me shit right now”, he could tell because her sister often graced him with this type of face. Her beautiful, lovely and stubborn sister he could not wait to see tonight. He hoped she was here.

“We shouldn’t bond with people that are just not right for us, isn’t it true?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s very much true, Fleur. However sometimes it’s not so obvious at the beginning. You just get to know the person with time”

“Yeah, well” her face turned serious again, aristocratic and modest “You and her were always great together, I cannot fathom how you did not bond since you are clearly idiotically in love with each other” she just shrugged, sinking her nose in the flowers she held now with both hands “Come, the dinner is almost ready” she said simply when she turned around.

Fleur was too smart for her own good. And Kylian stood there for few more seconds, dumbfounded.

When he finally came back to his senses he entered the dining room when everybody gathered but y/n was nowhere to be seen. It was her mother that obviously noticed his curiosity and after thanking for the beautiful flowers he picked for her, mentioned that she was in the kitchen, finishing preparing the food. And of course he decided to see her first, hoping that they were not bound the spend an uncomfortable evening.

He entered the room silently, spotting her standing over the kitchen counter, a knife in her hand and vegetables on the board in front of her. She was facing him but did not notice him at first. But with the corner of her eye she could spot the movement and raised her head to finally see who has joined her. Sharp chop on the board was the first thing, the next thing he could her was her pained cry.

“Ah, shit!” she yelped holding up her hand.

And without any thought he ran up to her, to see if she’s alright. She stared at her palm as he neared her and he knew very well what was coming. She could not stand the sight of blood, it made her dizzy and nauseous, she was afraid of needles since the earliest days. So he wrapped his arm around her middle, catching her injured and bloody hand below the wrist with the other.

“One step back, to the sink” he instructed calmly, and he could feel she begun to slump in his hold.

There was a lot of blood, already dripping on his fingers. But as he put her fingers under the running water he could see that stitches were not necessary, the knife just properly scratched the pad of her middle finger.

“It’s alright, just a tiny little cut” he murmured, examining her hand, looking for any additional cuts.

“Mhm” she breathed on his cheek and when he raised his head, he noticed she was looking at him all this time.

The proximity, her big, round, shaken eyes stunned him for a moment. But he had to move, she needed and aid.

“You just need a bandage. Can you stand on your own?” he made sure, slowly and very carefully backing his hand away from her waist. 

She nodded slowly, still looking at him, and he lingered for just a short moment before rushing in the direction of the medicine cabinet. And this little incident end up with her finger decently secured with a quite big amount of bandage and tape. She snickered at the sight of it, and after considering it for a moment, she actually brought her hand up, curling other fingers down to grace him with a rude gesture, her puppet looking like finger almost in his face.

“Come on, I did a decent job” he frowned before smiling at her softly.

“You did, thank you” and she smiled back at him “If it weren’t for you I’d probably faint and bleed myself to death” she joked looking back at the vegetables awaiting on the chopping board.

“Your cells have the capacity of sealing such cut back together themselves, you know?” he muttered carelessly, reaching for the knife to finish her job himself. He would not let her ruin the bandage now.

“Oh, wow there, Sherlock. I was kidding and I was paying attention in anatomy class for your information” she snickered taking a step to the side to let him take her place.

“Of course you were” he snorted, but meaning what he said, looking at her playfully.

She looked calmer and healthier. He was glad. She blinked like finally realising he was here with her and they were at last having an easy and warm conversation. Maybe she was glad too. For a moment there was silence, but she lingered close to him.

“Those are too big, cut them smaller” she almost whispered while she inspected his cucumber cutting abilities.

“Keep your fingers away, please” he muttered indignantly and she actually laughed out loud.

“Sorry” she breathed and he resumed. But there was something tender about this word as she voiced it out “I really am sorry, Kylian” now, it was a whisper.

Yet he was determined to keep on cutting the cucumber, something in him turned defensive and he was worried she at last would put him in his place. As a friend, as a childhood companion, like it used to be before. But she could not have it like that, so she reached with her hand and delicately placed it over his forearm. So he had no choice but to look at her. And he was seeing her, seeing her fully, and there, in the reflection of her beautiful, glimmering eyes he could spot his absolute devotion, his dedication, he could see it clearly. Could she?

“Love is a scary emotion” her voice quiet and careful, her eyes looking down at his lips for a moment, but out of bashfulness “I thought I was doing the right thing for myself, but instead I put myself in endless misery” she confidently continued “I am so sorry for pushing you away and you have every right to hate me for it”

“Nothing in this world would make me hate you. There’s not a thing I would not forgive you for” he opposed, feeling hurt at the thought that she was drawing such conclusions.

“Don’t say that” she frowned, her eyes turning even bigger “I’ve hurt you, I did an awful thing, admit it. I own you an honest apology, then you might consider if I deserve forgiveness” her voice breaking, her palms shaking, her eyes turning wetter, but she stood her ground, did not hide her emotions.

So he turned to her, making sure that every word he intended to say next she would find honest and real. And right.

“I acted up at the start, but the truth is that I would wait for you as long as it takes, I would step down, move into the shadow of your life, stop being an obstacle” she started to shake her head after, wanting to disagree, wanting to let him know that she did not see him that way, but he continued “I would be patient, I would let you make the choices that are right for you, because you are your own person. But I would be here, waiting, even if it meant waiting for the rest of my life, because you are my choice. And it would be my choice and I am okay with it, because I love you and I loved you long before I could understand what love actually is. That’s why you don’t have to say anything for I have already forgiven you”

A little sob broke out of her chest and she quickly turned her head to the side to hide her obvious tears streaming down her face.

“Hey” he whispered “It was not my intention to make you cry like this” and he reached for her hand to stop her from hiding her emotions. But delicately and considerably, wanting to be nothing but gentle. Her body was shaking with more sobs.

She turned back to him and started nodding like a little girl making peace with her subtle outburst of emotion. It made him smile at her.

“Loves, where are the salads?” y/n’s mother surprised them by unexpectedly charging into the room, halting at the doors after noticing the sight in front of her. Y/n turned to the other side so she could not notice her red and swollen face, her hand reaching up to wipe the cheeks dry “Sorry, is everything alright?” she asked, slightly embarrassed “What’s happened to your finger, y/n?”

Y/n sniffled before answering:

“I shoved it up his ass” she muttered quite frankly, before wrapping an arm around Kylian’s bicep, then she simply put her head on his shoulder.

He started to shake with laughter, trying to compose himself but truthfully found it difficult. He laughed out and y/n accompanied him.

“Oh, how funny you are” she sneered at her daughter but there was a gentle smile as well that finally broke on her face “Alright, you have five more minutes, lovebirds. Then I want my salads on the table”

-

Are you asleep?

She sent the message and begun to stare at the screen of her phone with gnawing impatience. She hoped he was awake as well. She itched with need to have him close, only today realising the size of the desolation that has grown in her heart when they parted. Their whole family stayed for the night, as they often used to when visiting their home on the countryside. She perceived their previous conversation unfinished and still felt like she owed Kylian more explanation. His confession, on the other hand, was nothing she could ever expect, not because she was hesitant to believe in honesty of his words, but for the reason that he drew it out so naturally, without any strain or difficulty. Almost like he unveiled the hidden truth of life everyone desire to find, using the simplest words. That is how it sounded to her, and she wasn’t very sure how she was supposed to handle it now. He was not terrified by it, he expected nothing while giving her his all. She was afraid she was not so experienced in the art of love, she worried she was not fit for it.

He answered the message after a while and she realised she drifted off in thought.

Non, why aren’t you asleep?

She typed back the answer with no hesitation.

Come to me?

And it didn’t take him long because just few minutes later she could hear gentle knock on the door to her room, so she jumped out her bed and run up to let him in. She smiled as soon as she saw him.

“It’s your birthday in twenty minutes” he murmured, holding up a little present bag in front of him.

“Good” she whispered “I wanted to spend it with you” she took the bag and then reached for his hand to guide him inside “Do you mind if I open it later? It is a bad luck to open the present before actual birthday day” she asked while placing it on the dresser near the door.

“You are way too superstitious” he snickered and she rolled her eyes at his answer.

“Maybe, but it kept me safe to this day”

Kylian shot her a mocking look and she laughed at his reaction, only then realising that they were still holding hands. She looked down at them as they stayed joined, feeling affection rising in her chest. She enjoyed this feeling. And she wanted him closer. So she took a step back to guide them to her bed so they could rest. He followed and they sat down comfortably at the edge of it.

“I was afraid this year would be the first time I’d spend my birthday without you”

He just smiled at her warmly and she took a deep breath, suddenly realising that she calmed much more when he was here. When he was listening and looking at her.

“I’ve put myself in this emotional prison, knowing that I was doing the exact opposite of what my heart called for” she murmured switching from looking at his face and back at their hands “I piqued Ian purposefully, I am a coward and I did not know how to free myself, so I was glad when he turned out to be aware of everything. But I was so distressed by what I’ve done, I thought you would never want me back”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, this time letting her speak whatever she needed to let out. Giving her time and space for it. But at this point the nervousness hit her strong back again, because she was worried she was not so good with words like he was. She was not used to it. But the words she was so desperately trying to reach were the most perfect ones. The right ones. She decided on moving a tad closer to him, his warmth and scent wrapping around her.

“So…” she started and there was a cheeky smirk that appeared on his lips.

He was so definitely going to tease her now. She guessed not much has changed, but it was a good sign. And he was so handsome, she wanted to punch him in the face.

“So what, miss eloquence?” he muttered and her heart skipped a bit when his low voice reached her ears.

“Don’t make fun of me now” she whispered, it was not her intention but she whispered, realising that all her senses were now filled with him, the spark in his eyes, his breathing, his touch.

“I am not” he opposed, reaching with his hand to gently stroke her cheek, his knuckles lovingly grazing the skin.

Delicate and tender, she felt the touch with her whole body, within her soul.

“Je t'aime” she whispered while leaning even closer to him, but lingering, wanting to make sure that he still felt that way. That nothing changed during the evening, that he did not change his mind.

She looked him in the eye and there it was again, the simplicity, the obviousness, that sweet spark in his eyes and a smile on his face, and all of it – so serene. And as she finally said it, addressing this confession to him, she realised there was no grand secret, no hidden truth of life, but the only truth of one’s heart. And she was free. His love was the only one to grant her that freedom.

“Didn’t hear you properly” he said “Could you repeat?”

She sniggered at that but reached with her hands to wrap them around his neck, leaning closer to softly whisper into his ear:

“I love you, Kylian” she sang “You and only you” she smiled “I love you”

His arm wrapped tighter around her and she moved so she could face him again. She knew that look in his eyes, so dark, so soft and sparkly.

“One more time”

She giggled. A stronger beat of her heart and she kissed him, a delicate peck on the lips, he hummed as she leaned back.

“I love you” she kissed him again and another “I love you” after.

The next kiss lingered, he let her guide it on her own pace, maybe because he regretted the times when he was more demanding on this part, when he kissed her or touched her ways that weren’t proper many times before. She pressed onto him, adding more fervency into this contact, soft but sure touches, she begun to move, trying to be closer, trying to take more and more. But as soon as he felt her mouth opening slightly, he broke the kiss and his lips followed a path, from the corner of her lips, to her jaw, and then lower to her neck. Her fingers rested on his nape, she closed her eyes and let herself feel. He was being delicate, patient, savouring her, experiencing her. Slow, too slow, she started to burn, she realised. That funny and sweet little spot he reached and bit on delicately, send an intoxicating shot through her whole body and she jerked breathlessly. Many other places on her body yearned for his attention, yet he was not in a hurry. It was a way too precious moment for Kylian to rush anything. She enjoyed every second of this special attention, but there was much more, so much more she wanted. Her fingers timidly reached for the buttons of the little night sweater she was wearing, one undone, then another and then – he reached for her fingers when he finally noticed it. Her eyes hazy and lids heavy as she looked at him, he looked down, her breasts clad in a delicate bra already visible to him, beautiful, soft skin unveiled. He wanted to kiss her there. But, there was hesitation.

“We shouldn’t” he whispered “We are not alone”

“Everybody is asleep” she reached for another button, her eyes focused on his face, but his eyes could not fight the temptation to see another piece of her skin being unveiled “Their rooms are far” the last button undone.

She was not particularly nervous now, but her fingers shook as she grabbed the folds of the sweater and pulled it down her arms. She could see him swallow and she loved that to a great extent. So she stood up, in front of him, untying the little ribbon of her fluffy pants and let the garment fall off her hips. Slowly, as he seemed to enjoy, she put one knee at the side of his thigh, her hand reaching to him, resting against his cheek. His eyes locked with hers and she knew she had him there. He was mesmerized. She straddled him the next second, pressing her lips against his once more. The kiss finally deepened, his hands travelled from her waist to her back, his touch soothing her. She felt the same thrill she did when they were kissing in the orchards. She wanted to press him down on the mattress, but again he had other ideas. He pulled away and put his mouth on the skin under her collarbone. And again, he was savouring it. Slow, moist and adoring kisses reaching lower, and she gasped when he placed one on the still clothed nipple. He bit on it, a moan broke out from her throat, her head already a spinning mess. He raised his head with a little smile and surely captured her mouth. She moved against him, she could feel him, all of him. Never before she felt more alive.

“Can I?” he asked, while his hand still placed against her back moved higher, touching the clasp of her bra.

“Yes” the answer was rather quick.

He removed it without struggle and she smirked at him. She never truly enjoyed sex before, no one could really find out about it, but the fact that he was the only person that could awaken such strong elation in her was a little guilty secret of hers. Until now.

He took her hand in his, the left one, with the finger still clad in bandage, and sweetly kissed her knuckles. He still seemed to consider.

“Sit next to me” he instructed and she wondered, but did as he asked.

To her surprise he kneeled in front of her.

“I want to taste you” he stated confidently, removing the t-shirt he was wearing. She shivered.

Oh, God.

“Can I kiss you, love?” his voice was so steady but also alluring, she found herself struggle to speak.

So she nodded, trying to compose herself.

“I can’t hear you, I won’t do anything you don’t directly agree with” he caressed her calf as he said so. There was something demanding in his voice, but still gentle, no pressing.

“Yes, please” her voice shaky but sure.

His fingers travelled up and rested at her hips, grabbing the strings of her underwear. He was watching her expressions attentively, searching of any sings of discomfort. She rose her hips up, giving him none. And as it was foreseeable he dragged the material down her legs very slowly. She was sure she blushed heavily as they held the eye contact. For a moment she lost the sense of reality, arousement coming to her in more persistent waves. He smiled cheekily and she moved closer, more to the edge of the bed, being able to perfectly read off his request. And he did not move yet.

“A little wider, love” hotness spread all over the skin of her cheeks and neck again.

She felt a tad silly now, because once again there was no abashment in the way he touched her, or spoke to her or even looked at her. And despite the fact that this moment thrilled her greatly, she was also unsure, felt unprepared, like she was about to turn out not right for him, not fitted for his fantasy. It was an awful feeling.

“Do you want to change your mind?” his voice softer now. His eyes on the other hand not. He wanted her. Badly.

“No” she breathed, looking at him intensely. She wondered if her vastly beating heart could be the cause of her immediate death.

He was patiently kneeling in front of her, gazing up at her with his lovely and sparkly boyish eyes for goodness sake. 

“Then relax” he murmured, his fingers still gently drawing lines down and up her calf “I want you to enjoy it”

Part of her wanted to look the other way, yet bigger part wanted to observe him while she opened her legs for him. Breath stuck in her throat when the intensity of this moment hit her momentarily.

“More” he rasped and she groaned softly, looking into his eyes that turned darker and darker by every second.

“Like that?” she asked weakly, her hands desperately clutching the sheets behind her, she was burning.

He liked the way she asked the question, he hummed and smiled at her, before lowering his head to place a kiss on the inside of her thigh. She took a big breath in.

“As much as I would love to hear you, I must ask you to be quiet” she almost whined hearing his low voice, but did her best to nod in agreement.

This time he granted her his mercy, not prolonging it much, maybe because he grew impatient to finally have her. While his hands securely held her open for him, his mouth found it’s way to her cunt. It seemed to happen very suddenly, her hips jerked uncontrollably and she gasped at the contact. Softly and gently he begun to pleasure her, she could sense that he was watching her, but could not find the confidence to meet his gaze. His hand squeezed her thigh, putting it up to let it rest on his shoulder. His tongue pressing surer against her, while his lips were delicate in their caress. She gasped and jerked up once more. Everything felt wet, his mouth hot against her, his tongue precise. Very unexpectedly he groaned against her, and it stunned her significantly, making her body tense and her eyes shot open. A sharp gasp that left her met a little moan, it sounded out like a hiccup.

“Why don’t you look at me, darling?” he murmured and she swallowed hard.

She was familiar with Kylian’s domineering attitude and quite stout ego, she always imagined it’s influence on his sex life. He was being considerate enough with her now, she wondered what will happen once he finish restraining himself. Chills ran down her spine. She yearned to experience it all. So she directed her gaze lower and the look in his eyes was shattering and overwhelming, so hot, she moaned out loud shamelessly, her right hand quickly shot up to cover her mouth. That’s when he chuckled and that’s when she simply could not stop everything that came next. It was quicker than she suspected. Too weak to keep herself up, she fell on her back, both of her legs now wrapped around his head, her hands delicately grazing his hair as if trying to keep him close to her at all cost, but no pressure in her touch.

“Kylian” she breathed, too quiet “Ky…” he sucked on it now “Kylian” she whined, louder.

And it was too much. She had to clasp her hand over her mouth again, most of her cries muffled, but still prominent in the room. Her body moved on it’s own accord, her head rolling around almost spasmodically. She was feeling lighter now, with her eyes closed she could not really specify where she was. She could remember it was her room, and her bed, but her mind stopped registering it properly. There was nothing more then her flesh, her senses directed only to experience the ecstasy of the upcoming pinnacle, a burst of euphoria. She wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing, but could tell her chest was moving rapidly. As the first wave hit her, she almost choked on her own breath, as the second appeared she expected it to bring a few more that fades quickly and leaves her hazy and light. But shockingly there was more, and more, and more, and it felt like her soul started to leave her body. She could not keep up with it, she was not prepared for it. Was she making noises? Was she loud? Was her mouth covered? Did she pass out?

She felt the mattress bent next to her. Her eyes still closed. She could hear her breathing despite the ringing in her ears. She could feel her fingertips again, weakly moving against the sheets.

“Hey” a whisper, close to her ear, she leaned into it “Are you alright, love?” she smiled, it was a lovely voice, soothing and sweet.

“Mhm” she murmured and very slowly opened her eyes to look at him.

He looked different. And one look at him made something in her insides jump. She was back in her body.

“You need to rest”

“No” she opposed, her hand flying up to touch him. Delicate, as she grazed his lips with her fingertips.

“I think yes” he laughed.

“I think you just gave me two orgasms in one take. Or more, I am not even sure now” this seriously spoken sentence made him laugh again. His lips flexed under her touch “But I want you now”

A big intake of breath as he considered her plea. She was fine, she could take him, she was not drained or sleepy, simply astounded or even blown away. She felt bolder now, more determined when she rose on her elbows to reach him, pressing a kiss on his lips. He grew weaker when she kissed him like this, softly but surely, with her nails lightly scratching the skin on his chest. She took advantage of this moment and pressed on him, making him lay down on the bed. He seemed stunned when she sat up, on top of him, her hands already resting on the clasp of his belt. She could notice him swallow but there was another of his shameless smirk appearing on his lips.

“What’s so amusing?” she jested.

“Your persistence. I adore it” he sat up, his hand sneaking around her middle and before she could comprehend his intention, he simply grasped her, turning them so she laid on her back again. 

She could start up a heated conversation about his own stubbornness at this point, but the idea started to quickly fade in her head as she watched him unbuckle the belt after he stood up. The intensity in his gaze was drawing her to him, she felt the same impatience once more. She reached for him desperately when he joined her, her legs already at either side of him, inviting him, keeping him in, close, closer. No pretence, no lies, no avoidance. Just them and nothing around to ruin it. At last. She only regretted that they made it harder for themselves to achieve it.

“Make love to me now” she hummed before kissing him.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 9

A/N: So, I honestly didn’t have anything else planned for this series, and sadly, this will be the final chapter. I hope you’ve enjoyed this – I certainly had fun exploring this dynamic and delving more into a softer Adrian. This will finally bring the long awaited slow burn to the forefront, so I hope it is what you imagined. Enjoy!

Summary: All in the name of love.

PREVIOUS

Follow the story on A03!

Chapter 9 [Final]

“Easy does it.”

Wincing, the warmth of the water collides with the open wound on your arm, deep are its cuts that have marred your skin. They don’t look appealing, and you grimace at how they will scar. If you could only practice better with healing, you could get the scars to fade in the future, but they would never be fully gone, a reminder of your foolishness that day.

Adrian is silent as he works beside you, wrapping fresh gauze after he had to cauterise the bleeding on the side of the road. It left you slumped and light-headed for the remainder of the journey back to the castle, in and out of a state of lucidness, you found yourself by the fire, Adrian tending to you carefully.

You don’t mean the way to push Adrian’s fretting hands off of you, but the need for sleep has your mind exhausted, idly staring into the flames as you get distracted by what Adrian is saying to you.

“If you die on me, I will not forgive you, you know?”

You laugh breathlessly, catching him staring over at you from the corner of your eyes. “I’m sure I would need more than a scratch to put me down.”

“That is true,” he murmurs, sitting back in the space beside you. “But you’re still the bravest witch I know.”

“Ha ha.” you wince, sitting up as you try to get comfortable. If you’re lucky, you may find sleep with ease, whether that be looking at the fireplace or found back in your room alone and cold. “The dumbest witch you mean?”

Adrian leans closer in, subtle but you notice it without saying anything. You have grown comfortable with him beside you, and any contact whether it be discreet or not is enough for you to crave more. It seems the Dhampir is stuck in his thoughts whilst you observe him.

Placing a hand on his arm, you bring him out his thoughts, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothing,” you cannot help but notice how his cheeks rouge lightly, looking away bashfully, “I just… there was something that drifted into my thoughts.”

“Which was?”

“Earlier today, when you were looking at the jewels, the jeweller commented about well… us.”

You stiffen, looking at him in horror and dread. “Oh, I’m sorry if that made you uneasy. I didn’t think it-”

“I didn’t feel uneasy by it however,” he managed to answer, and you hung on the edge of your seat to hear its words, “rather, it was… endearing.”

Oh.

“You... I do not know what to say, Adrian.” You laugh nervously, bubbling inside your stomach. “What does this all mean?”

Adrian shuffles closer in until his shoulder bristles against yours, “I suppose I should be downright honest with you at this moment,” his laughter is airy, with a hint of bravery he has plucked. “I am deeply afraid I will lose you one day, Y/N.”

You with ease hold his hand, reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere, Adrian- it was just a scratch-”

“I’m not talking about the scratch, what does the future imply for me and… if you’ll be there beside me.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel clammy, and every hair on your body rises until you cannot think straight. You’re certain your heart is in your mouth and you’re struggling to breathe, but Adrian continues, pouring his words out to you.

“It’s amusing how this has consumed me that I cannot articulate my words correctly.” He stumbles. “It is feverous the way you enter my dreams, my waking thoughts and worries. My days are never satiated until you’re by my side. You consume me, body and soul, and still, it is not enough.”

He is still breathtaking, even when he’s flustered, but you listen, only because you don’t know what to say.

“I thought it merely impossible for two people from different backgrounds to fall in love. My mother and father did and still, their love sprouted and flourished. A human and a vampire, it was a myth, but their love showed, despite how fleeting it was.” He chuckles hesitantly. “I never thought I could understand what they shared until I met you.”

“What are you saying, Adrian?”

“Oh, God, how do I say this without making a fool out of myself,” he’s so bashful, a blushing schoolboy who has to overcome this announcement, but he doesn’t stray from it, rather prides himself in the confession. He holds your hand close over his chest, above the stammer of his pulse. “My heart-- it yearns for you.”

You watch in the seconds that pass when you reciprocate his feelings that his entire demeanour changes. The tenseness of his body immediately relaxes, and relief surfaces within his eyes, sweet and pure. There is such softness to him that has surfaced that he seems like a completely different person. Perhaps he had been so nervous that you would reject him, that this had taken off guard.

Adrian doesn’t shy away from you, grabbing your face in his warm hands. You lean further into his touch, excited and giddy. His honey-golden eyes glow against the embers of the fireplace; bright with passion.

You don’t know who leans in first, but you gasp as Adrian’s lips brush against yours experimentally, eyes flickering up to your eyes to make sure you feel comfortable against him. Noses brushing, you relish in his scent, grazing your bottom lip against his. The gasp that leaves him is similar to a whimper, and you delve further against his, never truly having your lips connect with him until the teasing becomes all too much.

Two flames, flickering now as one.

His lips are warm and inviting, intense as your bodies collide with one another, hands seeking to hold as much of each other as possible. It takes some getting used to before you find confidence, teeth clanking awkwardly against his fangs, you adapt to kissing him quickly and find that his kisses are addictive, soft, and tentative.

Adrian lets out a garbled moan, his hands moving to your scalp, his fingers finding your scalp as he softly tugs your head back, disconnecting his lips from yours and finding the base of your neck.

You gasp, feeling like prey. Excitement bubbles up in your exposed throat, thinking he will finally sink his fangs into your flesh, however, hot wet kisses press from your pulse point, up along your jawline.

“Adrian.” You softly gasp, your hands finding his scalp as the Dhampir continues his actions.

Adrian pulls back to marvel at you and you’re both a sight to behold: hair dishevelled, skin flush. Adrian’s golden eyes are blown wide and dilated, his breath ragged.

“You’re addictive,” his breath is laboured, and he pulls you back against him. He cradles the side of your face with his hand, stroking your cheekbone, “my little witch.”

You don’t speak when your actions are used to show how much you adore him. You pour your love into him, and all worries and qualms, fears of the darkness and what lurks outside the castle walls disappear. You’re safe in his arms and you’re finally happy.

You don’t speak when your actions are used to show how much you adore him. You pour your love into him, and all worries and qualms, fears of the darkness and what lurks outside the castle walls disappear. You’re safe in his arms and you’re finally happy.

“Don’t leave me,” he murmurs against the fullness of your lips, holding you to him, afraid you will turn to ash in his hold. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“Never.” Are your words, and you promise to hold onto them, for as long as you carry breath and Adrian is there to breathe it back into you.

[drdemonprince]

Hi I keep thinking back to your book unmasking autism, I recently was diagnosed with level 1 by my new psychiatrist but with losing my healthcare I feel lost on how to function without medical assistance. I typically mask and been learning how not to, but it always feel at the opportunity cost of more money, overly explaining to family or grief. I’ve been in a loop of feeling I shouldn’t exist due to my disability and it a sad feeling.

I am so sorry to hear that you are going through this. I'm certain you already know this, but it's not the case that you shouldn't exist because you are disabled. The vast majority of people on this planet find it absolutely soul-sucking and exhausting to present as what gets called "neurotypical" at work. It's too many hours of pretending to be someone you are not, with no space allotted for your full humanity, with not enough energy or hours left behind to look after oneself, have nourishing authentic relationships, and ample space to recover, be playful and joyful, and dream. Every person requires ample time and space for themselves to recouperate, and to listen to the actual feelings that they have inside, and capitalism instead demands that we suppress all of it, and it can slowly eat away at us and make it difficult to access authentic pleasure or connectedness. For Autistics it's especially pronounced because we are such a bad mismatch with what capitalism demands, and because we need so much energy recovery time, but it's simply the case that you are not broken or defective for failing to fit within such an oppressive system. It is that system that should not exist, and that terrorizes everybody, to varying degrees. I bet if you look at the most "well adjusted" hard working people that you know, you see how their lives have been totally ruined by overworking and killing what's wild and free about themselves, or what used to be those things.

I have spoken to hundreds of Autistic people in the situation you are in at this point, and I have found that for the majority of us, embracing our disability and articulating our needs means that very dramatic changes have to happen in our lives. Some people have to reorient how they interact with their families, establish new boundaries, push to really educate them on neurodivergence, go no contact, or rethink what family means to them altogether. Lots of us leave careers or switch to part-time or remote work, or have to get incredibly creative and resourceful in order to survive in a way that we can stand: going on disability benefits, public assistance, living with friends, pooling resources, going off the grid in some way, finding some side hustle or scam that makes it possible to survive, doing sex work or freelance, taking on childcare or eldercare duties for a friend who is employed, or something of that nature are all options I've seen a lot of unmasking Autistics pursue. None of these options are ideal, and they all come with significant costs and risk factors. But then, so does killing oneself slowly with work.

I have a whole book coming out next year in March about these specific considerations, with lots of tools and decision trees and research and quotes from other Autistics. The book is designed to help Autistics who are in that second stage of their unmasking journey sort out what a life where it is possible to be less masked means for them. Where can they live? Who is gonna support them? What matters to them in their life? How can they reset their relationships in light of their neurodivergence? What does it mean to grow old as a disabled person? These are the kinds of questions the book will hopefully help me explore, and discover the best answers for themselves. Of course, many people would say that their only way out of this is the downfall of capitalism, but I personally am of the mind that we have to make that end happen ourselves by working less hard, consuming less where possible, leaning on other people, providing support to our neighbors, becoming less reliant upon our employers and the government, and building our collective escape from the capitalistic machine. And we can all have some small part in that, even if only for ourselves and those immediately closest to us. That's enough.

I hope that you find a way of life that is sustaining and feels whole and good for you. As neurodivergent people we do things very differently. And that is both the curse and the beauty of us. The prescribed script we've been given for how life is supposed to look is never going to work for us. Indeed, it's not working for most anybody else either. There way forward will not be easy, and the lot you've been given to deal with is not fair, but there are also millions of other disabled people just like you who are leaning on one another, slowing down, refusing to play into the existing system's hand as much as is possible for them, and making a new world. And just by pondering the things that you are, you're helping already to make that new world too.

[gretavanfleetposts]

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart - Part Three of Make Her Happy

Author's Note: The long-awaited part three! I'm a dually incredibly embarrassed that this took almost an entire year to finish. The time really got away from me LOL So I'm very sorry for that but I hope you all enjoy (and fingers crossed it was worth at least some of that wait)

Content Warnings: lots of swearing, bit of drinking

Word Count: 6k

Part One - Make Her Happy

Part Two - Give Me Shelter

One of the last things Jake had said to you before he'd left was that you should talk to Josh. And that was exactly what you hadn't done.

In fact, you’d let two weeks slip by like sand through your fingers without poking or prodding the topic even once. You’d clung to your avoidance like battle armor and if you were honest with yourself, you feared losing Jake just as much as you feared losing Josh.

So you and Josh hadn’t spoken and nothing had changed, nothing other than the fact that it felt Jake had been keeping his distance. Or maybe you were just more sensitive to his absence now that it felt necessary.

Damn him for being a good brother. For being better than me.

He was better than you, it seemed. Because he had put you to bed two weeks ago and left under the impression you were going to do the right thing and instead, you'd avoided your problems and had once again come running to Jake to have him make you feel better.

No, not to make me feel better. Just to play a stupid game. That's all.

He must have heard the honk of your car locking because you had barely made it to the front door before he was suddenly standing there in your way, a look on his face that somehow tangled caution and amusement into one jumbled mess expressed as a half-quirked smile and eyebrows that dipped low in the middle of his forehead. It was an expression that quite matched how you felt, butterflies and guilt and all.

“I take it you two didn't talk.”

Is it that obvious?

“What a way to greet a lady,” you said with a sudden scowl as you pushed past him through the doorway and led yourself to his kitchen.

To say you weren’t quite ready to broach that topic would have been an understatement.

“Why do you seem so chipper?” he asked from behind you as he followed your path through his home.

“I can't be happy to see you?” you threw back at him as you dropped your tote bag off your shoulder and onto the pristine marble of his kitchen island with a familiar muffled clang of a glass bottle shrouded by thin canvas to dull the promise it rang out into the air as it was set down. A little something for the soul.

“I guess I’ve admittedly grown a little bit more used to being greeted with tears. But this is a nice change.”

He gave you a sweet smile but paired with the way his eyes seem to wilt at the outer corners, you could see the sadness it held. It reminded you of the guilt you carried around with you constantly lately, only with a new object of affection. How selfish of you to think that this hadn’t taken any toll on him at all.

Your eyes turned soft. “I'm sorry. I am. You've been my sunshine these past several months. I hope you know that.”

Even as you said it, you knew it couldn’t begin to articulate what it was you really felt for him. But it was enough just to see the rose of a deep blush tinge his cheeks red and turn his smile suddenly bashful.

“Happy to provide,” was all he said in that typical, raspy, almost sleepy voice of his.

It was hard not to chuckle at the things he found too intimate to take in stride. It was fine for him to call you what he had in bed but heaven forbid you call him your sunshine…

“Don't think I didn't notice you dodging my original question though,” he added, breaking your concentration.

Oh yeah. My problems. How lovely of him to remind me.

You quirked up an accusing eyebrow. “Like how you dodged my compliment just now?”

“Ever so expertly,” he answered, this time with an unabashed smile that spread his lips wide across his face.

You felt your gaze dart away before you could even stop it, a heavy sigh pillowing in your chest before expelling into the air like a pot on the stove blowing off steam to keep from boiling over.

“I need one night of just…not talking about it.” You’d had plenty of nights of that, actually. What was one more? “Or thinking about it, preferably.” And then to really catch his attention and maybe even further drive home your point, you reached into your bag to uncloak the wine.

There was a specific smile he always donned when alcohol was present and when it took hold, you knew you could take it as an agreement to drop it, at least while there was a full bottle to contend with.

He took it from your grasp with only a dutiful nod, turning the dark glass over in his hands to inspect the label despite the fact that he likely knew nothing printed there would catch his eye. You had one sense of taste that trumped all others when it came to using fermented drinks to bandage your wounds: cheap.

“What am I if not a seasoned distraction?” he asked, already digging into a cupboard to procure two large, round glasses.

“That's why I seek you out,” you answered with a smile as you watched his hands work and tried your hardest not to think back to that first time he had served as your distraction.

“Well, hopefully that’s not the only reason.”

It was that comment that caught you and sent your stomach into a twist unbecoming of someone who was very much not single, especially given the way it suddenly brought the memory of your second time to the forefront of your mind, a time when it was hardly a distraction so much as it was a necessity in that moment. 

No, distraction wasn’t the only reason you were there. Comfort either. You’d grown to long for his company in a much deeper way. It wasn’t company in general he was providing you with, it was his and his alone.

And the game, of course. Mostly that.

“What's on the agenda for the night?” Jake asked as if he hadn’t just sent you into a deep spiral of thought that you’d been hoping to avoid that evening.

At least he’d been kind enough to pour you a glass of wine without you asking.

“I brought candyland since you owe me a rematch for what you did last time.”

The memory of your pieces scattered on the floor along with every card in the deck like a colorful patchwork quilt that you'd made him clean up both times he'd done it brought an earnest smile to his face.

“I'll flip the board again if you don't let me get tipsy first.”

You certainly didn't have to wonder if he was serious so with the preservation of your game in mind, you agreed with a nod and a, “Seems fair to me,” as you reached out for your wine. But he was already retreating by the time your fingers reached the air that the temptation in a glass once occupied.

“Come here,” he said with a mischievous look overtaking his face. “Something I want to show you.”

This time it was you left following him through his home, both glass stems tucked snugly between talented fingers like he was beckoning you to chase him if you wanted yours. And you did want yours. That was why, despite the sudden flurry of nerves that his look seemed to conjure in your chest, you did as you were told and followed him.

I swear to God, if he's talking about his dick…

You actually weren't sure what you'd do. Probably not the decent thing.

But to your surprise, he led you to a usually barren room save for the red Persian rug warming the middle and the walls outlined in vintage instruments ready to be plucked off the wall and played. Except today, the center of the room wasn't barren as it had been for months.

The room opened up to greet you with a warm mahogany welcome in the shape of a baby grand piano that instantly made your fingers itch. It wasn't so different from the piano you'd been toying with at the party where you and Josh had met. Of course, you weren't as good a player as he was but you certainly knew your way around.

“Figured we rehearse here enough it was worth the investment,” you heard Jake say from behind you where he now stood watching as you carefully perched yourself onto the little matching mahogany bench.

“My God, she is beautiful,” you breathed as you opened the fallboard to uncover a full set of vintage ebony and ivory that seemed to practically yearn for your touch.

Your fingers danced out a quick melody that warmed your joints as much as it did your demeanor. You hadn't played much lately. Actually, you hadn't really played at all. But there were some things that stuck with you, worked their way into your bones, maybe into your very DNA. And this was one of them.

“Does this mean you're going to learn?” you asked, turning your focus back to him as you swiveled to find his face.

“I'd need a teacher for that and I refuse to let Sam fill that role.”

He gave you a cheeky smile that you read instantly. It was an open invitation for you to take on the role of said teacher, so you stood and, taking your wine glass from his hand finally, made a grand sweeping gesture toward the now unoccupied piano bench.

He took his seat, pretending to throw his imagined coat tails over the bench, earning a giggle that swished the wine in your glass. You hovered not too far behind him as he cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat, making a quite thorough display of his preparation only to put fingers to keys and press out one of the more off-key renditions of twinkle twinkle little star you'd ever heard. And he was met with another giggle that seemed to only encourage his actions.

“Oh that's amazing. You must teach me your ways,” you joked with a smile as you set your glass down on the floor just out of the way.

“Save me, please,” he answered with a hoarse laugh, finally slowing his fingers to a halt but keeping them positioned on the keys.

You approached him slowly, coming up close behind his back to stretch your arms over his shoulders and let your fingers find rest overtop his just as delicately as your chest grazed the wide plane of his back. You could smell his cologne strong on his neck as you guided his fingers to better position them amongst the keys, your breath dusting his cheek with each exhale. And you swore you could almost tell that he was holding in a breath if you paid close enough attention to the movement in his shoulders that seemed to have suddenly stilled.

Somewhere among your skin resting against his and your hair tickling his neck, the world around you seemed to grow still and quiet, fading into a background of white noise and blurred lines. And then you pressed your fingers more firmly into his and a striking chord sliced through the air alongside whatever breath Jake had been holding.

“There, just like that,” you said in a voice far shakier than you had hoped it would turn out to be.

But he was silent, letting you guide his fingers slowly up to a new chord, or outstretching a pinky to hit a further key as yours nudged it, never saying a word. He let you play that way, through him, feeling the notes through the strength and dexterity of his talented fingers that fit so snugly beneath yours and obeyed your every command.

“I knew I was good at something,” he joked in a whisper that barely traveled up above the note lingering beneath your hold until he turned his face dangerously to the side to face yours.

It brought his nose only an inch from yours but what felt even more dangerous were his eyes and the quick flicker they made to your lips, resting parted and practically panting. You didn’t even realize your own breathing had picked up until you suddenly became aware of the heat reaching your palms, heat he could likely feel radiating through his skin still resting beneath yours. And just as quickly as the moment had been conjured, he turned his face back to his hands and yours retreated entirely just before you darted over to your glass of wine to down the contents while he continued to fiddle with keys.

“You're a good student,” you commented as evenly as you could as you took a seat on the bench next to him. A much safer spot than where you had been.

“You’re a good teacher,” he answered with a quick flash of a smile in your direction, fingers still tripping over keys and filling the air around you with a disjointed music that you admittedly didn’t mind.

“Well, maybe not as good as you.” It came out rather absently as you had taken to fiddling with a random key yourself, turning your attention to that instead of the familiar pounding of your heart in your chest, a rhythmic reminder of the effect Jake had on you.

When he turned to face you again, you could feel his eyes hot on your cheek. You wanted to be brave and face him but there was something about his knowing gaze that made you feel that much more defeated. You felt like a terrible person, in all actuality. How could you have fallen for your boyfriend’s brother? Was that actually what you had done or were you just using him like a bandaid? Did you even know anymore?

Maybe it’s just the sex I like.

“Is that why you're here?” he asked, his gaze somehow even hotter than before. “You need another lesson?”

God, can he read my mind?

For a brief moment, you found yourself debating it. It didn’t feel like that was what you had come for but you certainly weren’t ignorant to the need that radiated through your body every time he so much as glanced in your direction. But you also weren’t ignorant to just how wrong it really felt. However it had felt that first time, hesitant as you had been, the glances you stole now didn’t feel that way. They didn’t feel harmless. They didn’t feel like something Josh had signed off his approval on.

And for now, the guilt rang strong enough through your body to stop you from doing something worse.

“I'm here to beat you at candyland,” you answered, eyes finally braving his face only to be greeted by a smile that seemed to be growing by the second.

“Well that's just not going to happen.”

—

“That is cheating!” you yelled over the board as you angrily moved Jake's piece back several spaces behind yours.

“It is not, my piece was planning on being there this whole time,” he argued back, grabbing it from your hand to return it to the space he had just placed it on with his hand that wasn't gripping his wine glass like his life depended on it.

You weren't sure if it was the booze or the antics of the game, but his British accent was starting to slip out the more uncivilized he got and you were trying your best to be stern despite the smile it was holding permanently to your lips.

“It doesn't matter what he was planning on, you didn't roll high enough to go that far!”

He gave you a displeased shake of his head as he finally took his piece back, “accidentally” knocking yours over in the process.

“I don't think you're playing this right,” he mumbled before chugging the remaining contents of his third glass of wine.

“I'm sorry you don’t get to just do whatever you want,” you laughed as you wrestled another card out of his hand seeing as it most certainly was not his turn.

“Well that is too bad, isn't it,” he said gruffly although even he was struggling to keep the smile off his face and commit to the bit.

The day had grown so late that darkness had finally come to greet you and this was your third attempt at a civilized game, which you were beginning to think was simply impossible with Jake. He just couldn’t seem to stop cheating.

Let’s not read too much into that.

By the time you had maneuvered all of the cards away from him thanks to that all-too familiar gleam in his eye, he sat back in his seat to let a comfortable silence grow between you both, silent glances exchanged as a buzz settled over you both. But in the silence and the calm grew that familiar heat, a buzz brought on by more than just the alcohol consumed that night. There was something about it, those quiet, gentle moments, that turned the volume of tension about the room up several levels, like you couldn't trust yourselves to be around one another in such a still moment without busying your hands and your bodies with one another. Like you were always just waiting for the next opportunity for it.

That was how it felt: like you were waiting. And suddenly in the haven of golden light in your little secluded pocket of the night, in the quietness of his gaze trying to stay fixed to anything but you, you felt you shouldn't be there.

Why had you come?

Jake cleared his throat and nudged your empty wine glass. “You want more?”

You gave him a light shake of your head and an answer just as soft. “I'm driving.”

He nodded in return and cast his eyes to his hands. He almost looked nervous. Why would he be nervous?

When he met your eyes again, you could tell he was searching your face for something. But what it was he was looking for, you had no idea. And if he found it, you had no idea of that either. But as you gazed back, you found yourself unable to look away, unable to hide your face or your eyes or your feelings from him. Whatever it was you were feeling, you let him see it there on your features like a book written just for him.

It's him I want. That's why I came.

It seemed to hit you all at once and suddenly the need for action seemed just as real.

“I guess I should go.”

Before I do something I shouldn't.

He nodded again, adding an almost silent “okay” that somehow made the task of getting up all the more hard. But somehow, your feet shuffled and your legs moved and your body, which seemed to be of much more sound mind than your actual mind, moved its way to the kitchen sink, wine glass in hand.

“You don't have to do that,” you heard Jake say from behind you.

Close behind you.

“I don't mind,” you answered quietly as you continued to turn the faucet on and rinse the glass.

That was when you felt him at your back, arms emerging from either side and his hands, practically shaking, entwining themselves with yours to steal the glass away from your grip.

“Here,” he whispered, “let me.”

Fuck.

You weren't exactly sure what it was that suddenly surged through you but the moment the glass was set safely on the counter, you turned into his arms to face him, lacing your fingers into his shirt buttoned ever so lazily. And the move brought your mouth mere inches from his, your bodies practically pressed tight to one another.

There was greed on your lips, greed you wanted him to taste.

“Jake, I want you,” you whispered without even an ounce of shame, finally giving in to what you had been fighting all evening.

It was met with his eyes winding tightly shut as a blow of frustrated air pushed from his lungs. “Don't do that to me,” he shook his head. “That's not fair.”

“You're right, it's not fair-”

Your lips were practically on his when he suddenly pulled back several steps, out of your grasp.

“This can't happen,” he said sternly, although whether that was for you or for him you weren't entirely sure.

What you were sure of though was the embarrassment seeping into your very being. And then the guilt. They seemed to freeze you in your place.

God, what am I doing?

What was worse was that you had thought he wanted you too. Had you read it all wrong? Had you read everything wrong? Was he only entertaining you because he could see your desperation so plainly in everything you did? Was it only pity he felt for you?

Josh had no time for you and now Jake didn’t want you either.

You took a few steps away from the sink, aimless, wandering, before your face fell into your hands, to hide it, to soothe yourself, to try and disappear.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated frantically, practically in a panic. “I don't know what I'm doing. It's just…it's not working.”

“You need to tell him that.”

God, the sympathy you now heard in his voice might have made you feel even worse.

“He knows that.”

“Babe-”

“I plan to,” you burst suddenly, hands falling away from your face to make way for the much louder sentiment, as unsure as it sounded. “I'm going to,” you repeated, “I just thought…”

You trailed off into nothing, totally defeated. You weren’t sure what you had thought but god, you were tired of this. Why was this so difficult? Why was this so complicated? Why hadn’t Josh just shown up like he was supposed to?

You looked to Jake somehow hoping he could give you the answers you were searching for but he looked just as confused, just as lost. And the longer you looked the more he looked…something else entirely.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked almost desperately.

You stuttered. “I mean…I think it's obvious. Or…maybe it isn't, I don't know, I just-”

“We can't be together,” he suddenly blurted out.

If his previous rejection hadn’t hurt, this certainly did. And it brought back to you the words he had said two weeks ago on the couch over pizza and comfort, only this time they seemed to form a coherence they hadn’t quite had when he’d spoken them then.

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

And then the words that cut a little deeper. A little sharper.

‘Maybe that's why he sends me. He isn't worried about it’.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, all-too aware of what your body language was giving away. You had read it all wrong.

“I…I know that,” you answered quietly, pathetically, even though it wasn’t the truth. Not even close. “I know that.”

His eyes found your face again, this time more frantic, like he knew what he had just done but didn't have any choice in the matter. He raised his hand to your elbow, leaning in as he gripped you. He might have shaken you to try and get you to understand what he was saying if he thought that would go over better than his fingers alone.

“Listen to me, I'm telling you you need to do the right thing. He's my brother. But I can't…I can't be your answer.”

Those damn pesky tears were back, and with a vengeance. If you didn't dart out of there sooner rather than later, you'd be nothing but a puddle of salty water on his kitchen floor and you suddenly had no desire to let him see you that way.

There was anger there too, as misplaced as you knew it was, forming just as quickly and swelling into something so hot it practically blurred your vision. You felt almost lied to. Talk about fucking mixed signals. But you let out a long, terse, “okayyy” without even meeting his eyes, already mentally planning your escape.

“I love you, I do. I love you too much to-”

Bullshit.

“No, I get it,” you interjected before he could drive the knife any deeper. “It's good to know where you stand. Thank you.”

He called out for you more than once but it fell on deaf ears. You were already out of the house.

—

“Where were you?”

Good God, can’t the universe give me a break?

Josh's voice coming out of the near darkness startled you. You knew he was there. You'd seen his car in the driveway when you pulled in. But something about it felt like he was catching you in the middle of sneaking out. Or rather, sneaking in.

“I was out,” was all you said as you sat your things down and kicked off your shoes. You prayed your eyes weren’t still red and puffy from the crying you did on the car ride home.

“Just out?”

There was concern in his voice. You could hear it without even fully seeing his face where it was, shrouded in shadow that seemed all too fitting for the conversation you knew very well was about to be had. He could have easily been hiding from you. Fuck, you wanted to hide from him too.

You wanted to spare him the sigh that was brewing in your chest but it barreled out of you before you could stop it. “I needed to get my thoughts together,” you explained as you stepped further into the house and into the hall where you could better see him.

That was a mistake.

There was already pain in his eyes. Already a redness that you suspected was from his own tears. He knew where this was headed as well as you did.

Fuck, this might actually kill me.

“Why doesn't that sound good?” He gave you a nervous chuckle and the only smile he could manage, both of which fell flat.

“Josh, I…” There was actually nothing coming to your mind, try as hard as you did to think of the right thing to say. To think of anything to say for that matter. But he took pity on you instead and cut right to it. Something you might have been thankful for under any other circumstances. Well, maybe you still were thankful for it given these circumstances.

“I know,” he said without prompting. “I've been spread so thin lately-”

“For a while,” you corrected, only a tinge of the bitterness you felt biting into your tone. “And it's not really feeling like ‘spread thin’ so much as it is not making the time for…certain things. Things that should be a priority.”

Well that certainly sounded bitter.

“I know, baby. I've been wrapped up in a million little things. We're working on a new sound but it has required more of me than the others.”

You felt yourself wince at the pet name, a lump in your throat forming almost out of nowhere and suddenly threatening to strangle you.

You fought against it to push the words out. “Josh, I hear you, I really do, but this just isn't sustainable for me.”

He nodded at this but you could tell he was deep in thought. And his silence seemed to drag on for an eternity. Agonizingly. But when he finally broke it, you found yourself missing that silence.

“Does this have something to do with Jake?” he asked, raising his eyes to yours to undoubtedly impress upon you the importance of the question.

Suddenly you felt cold despite the sweat practically pooling in your palms and the heat flaring in your ears. You couldn't face him and tell him that you had fallen for Jake after all of the late nights you'd spent with him. You couldn’t admit to him the embarrassing truth that you had gone to seek him out, lying to yourself about why the whole time. And you certainly couldn’t admit to him how often you had thought of his brother when you found yourself alone over the past few months. But Josh seemed to glean every last one of those secrets from your silence alone.

“Where were you?” He finally asked the question you'd skirted around when you'd arrived home.

You didn't rarely hear Josh with anything you could call stern in his voice but you heard it now in his question. And his eyes begged the answer from you just as desperately as his tone did.

That was when you began to feel the tears well up for the second time that night. Your undereyes wouldn’t recover until the next week.

“Josh-” you croaked out, although he didn't seem to need you to finish whatever thought you were weakly stringing together into words.

“I shouldn't have let him do it. I shouldn't have let him near you that way.”

“It wouldn't have mattered,” you tried.

“Yes it would have. We wouldn't be here right now if I hadn't pushed you into his arms.”

“If it hadn't been him, I would have just been alone. All alone, Josh.” Even with the tears streaming silently down your face, you said his name pointedly enough that his shoulders seemed to slump and whatever anger was brewing for his brother was waning. “All alone for months and months thinking my boyfriend couldn't care less. Hoping I would at least get a text from you that time rather than Jake acting like some sort of carrier pigeon, as if that was any replacement.”

You'd never seen him so hurt. You'd never seen his face droop and fall that way, his lips melting downward at the corners and the liquid warmth of his eyes almost freezing over. Even his curls seemed to lose their bounce. He was wilting right in front of you and it only made it harder to breathe. It only made it harder to stand there and face him and say whatever the fuck it was you’d been putting off for that very reason.

If you don't do it now, you never will.

You wiped at your tears as best you could, trying to pull yourself together. “It hurts me,” you started. “Having you so close and yet so far constantly, it hurts me and I just can't do it anymore. And I don't want to wait until I resent you. I can't sit around waiting for that to happen. It'll kill me if I ever feel that way for you.”

Tears were now pouring down his face as he shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

If he said anything else, you could barely hear it above the racing of your heart in your chest and the dam breaking somewhere behind your eyes. It was like a tsunami when it came, folding you over until you slumped around yourself on the ground to let it wrack through your body. And he was there just as quickly, holding you despite the fact that he most certainly didn't have to. Clinging to you and his sorry's.

You weren't sure how much time passed as you sat there. You could hardly feel it ticking through your tears and a feeling that felt awfully close to regret. You couldn't feel the passage of the wind and the world beyond the strength of Josh's arms holding fast to your form, knowing that when he let go, he wouldn't have this opportunity again. It almost felt cruel, like a moment you should have had among many others but was stolen away from you all at once. So you basked in it. You bathed in it. You memorized his touch and his smell and the way it felt to be supported, even if you hadn't felt it in a while.

You had your reasons, you knew that. Had to remind yourself of it, even. But at the moment, you had nothing but him.

The tears always dried though. They always racked your body and stripped you of your strength and energy and when they vacated, just like they always did, you were left sitting, leaning against the wall of the hallway, in an almost daze-like state. Stuck in a limbo between sorrow and anger and humor. Every emotion you had seemed to sit at the edge of your being waiting for a moment to pounce in a state like this, and you were always left wondering what would take hold next.

Josh mimicked your movements, sitting opposite you like a mirror into what you probably looked like. And for a while, you sat in silence.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said after several moments. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

You nodded and sniffled, wiping your eyes and your nose with the back of your hand like a toddler.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

I know.

You nodded again but this time when you spoke, your voice was even.

“I know.”

You tapped your fingers against your knee, butt going numb against the hardwood floor and eyes feeling stiff at the corners thanks to the dried tears accumulated there. And it was funny in a way that really wasn’t funny at all that as you sat there and stared at Josh silently, you couldn't help but think to yourself how beautiful he was.

Fucking twins.

“Does Jake make you happy?” Josh asked suddenly, studying your face.

The short answer was yes but the long answer?

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

“I don't know,” you admitted. And you hoped he believed you when you said it because you really didn't.

You liked how he made you feel. You liked that he was there when no one else was. But was he the answer? You had no idea, actually. Maybe you wanted him to be more than he actually was. Or maybe, just maybe, you just liked having sex with him.

Ha. Well, that's at least some of it. Not that it matters anymore.

You were shamelessly giggling to yourself at the entirely humorless situation you found yourself in even before Josh joined in, bringing his hand to hide his mouth like he was in on the secret joke and attempting to keep it just that, a secret.

“You should probably decide before I have a chance to kill him.” And then after a moment, he added, “Well to be honest with you, I might just kill him anyway.”

You couldn't even explain why but that did you in, spurred a full on fit of laughter. And somehow, Josh found himself laughing right beside you.

Typical Josh. Always a bright spot. Even if it hurt him to be.

—

You hadn't left your house in days. Hadn't washed your sweatpants in as long either. The takeout boxes were certainly piling up too. And had you already finished off the last of your wine stockpile?

Gonna need to hit the grocery store soon. Or Instacart, at the very least.

And when your couch hadn't been occupied by friends spoon-feeding you whatever therapy you needed, be that advice or ice cream, you found yourself alone with more thoughts than you cared to deal with.

And one name in your mind that you avoided at all costs.

You hadn't even texted him that it was over. Hadn't called. Hadn't seen his face or heard his voice or even uttered his name. But God, you felt it, that ache. The longing. The familiar itch that he had scratched for you one too many times that now begged for nails to rake across it.

Relief. You wanted him. You maybe even needed him. That was what the emptiness had shown you. Whatever it was that he even was to you, you missed it. You craved it. But in your hour of need, he was the last thing available to you. And you were certainly stubborn enough not to chase.

Until you eventually weren’t stubborn enough.

You had no idea what had possessed you to rise from the couch that day, throw on a sweatshirt to shield you from the rain, grab your car keys, and drive to his place. You had no idea what possessed you to jump from your car and brave the violent sheets of rain that threatened to topple you as your fist made contact with his door a bit more angrily than maybe it should have. And you had no idea what had possessed you to do all of this just to say what it was you said.

Maybe I enjoy getting hurt.

You weren't invited in. In fact, you weren't even greeted with any words. He seemed breathless the moment he opened the door and his brain caught up with his eyes, whether that was thanks to your unruly appearance made all that much worse by the rain or simply the fact that you were the last person he expected to see standing on his porch after what he had said. After what you had done.

Probably should have run a brush through my hair before coming here.

And then you blurted it out.

“I ended it.”

The rain raged on in an angry war against you but you stood defiantly, like there was some ground there to hold. And maybe there was. It certainly felt like there was. If it wasn't the rain, it was his eyes, staring dangerously into yours and then, even without a single utterance from him still, you saw it. It was undeniable and unmissable.

Jake's eyes flickered down to your lips where they lingered for what felt like an eternity but in actuality was about two seconds. Two of the longest seconds you'd ever felt, waiting for someone to do something about it.

“I just thought you should know,” you added.

And then you left.

[two-white-butterflies]

you're losing me (one)| ja. velaryon and am. targaryen

Description: Being a popular popstar is a tiresome job, it's a good thing that you have someone to go home to. Seven years together and he still hasn't proposed. In which, you realize that letting go is one of the smartest thing that'll lead you to each other. (Aemond needs a fake-girlfriend and he accidentally bumps into his nephew's ex-girlfriend [but he doesn't know that] so he invites her to a family reunion]) (slight angst) (will have a pt. 2) Rating: General Audiences Author's Note: not at all related to mom (taylor) and dad (joe), just taking inspo from the song 💗

"When are you getting married?" a late night host asks, leaving you laughing awkwardly.

You were a traditional woman in a sense - longing for marriage, a white picket fence, and children but Jace was different from that. He wanted to be a disruptor - an enigma for change. Marriage was never on the table with him.

"There's so much more to life than getting married." you lied, trying to convince yourself that it was what you wanted - that you didn't want to get married, but deep down - you did.

"I agree, but can you see yourself getting married in the future?" the man insinuates, holding the deck of questions on his right hand. The audience begins laughing at your awkward reaction. "Personally - I don't." you chuckle, you don't see yourself getting married because Jace didn't want to get married.

" - and if I did, I'm not telling you Jimmy." you add with a giggle, taking a long sip of the coffee beside you.

(your first name)

In a recent interview, a question was asked about something in my private life. I took a while to answer because I wasn't prepared to show people that part of my relationship yet. I just wanna say that when I'm interviewed, I wanna talk about my work, songs, etc.. the things that I've given my entire life for.

You placed your vintage bag loudly on the table - taking a mammoth stride towards your boyfriend who was in the process of writing his new book. You haven't spoken to each other in three-weeks, and he didn't even seem to be bothered by the distance. "I missed you." you hummed, burying your face on the crook of his neck. "I watched your interview," he answered, taking his hands off the laptop - placing them around your waist and pulling you to his lap.

"I was caught of guard honestly, my PR manager didn't warn me." you complain, trying to see if he was mad. Jace was the heir of a jewelry company. They came from old money, and he was very private with his life. There was an era in your relationship where you weren't allowed to say his name in public.

"It's fine babe - I hope they stop asking you about it though." he answers, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "I mean, we haven't spoken to each other seriously about the topic." you point out, wanting to change his mind about marriage. It was wrong to force him into something - but you didn't want to force yourself into loving someone who might not love you enough.

"You've already articulated on my behalf. Marriage is for dummies, we have to do a thousand things like prenups, and planning the wedding." he rambled portraying those things like they were bad things, but to be honest - the thought of planning a wedding and choosing a wedding dress made your eyes sparkle.

Almost everyone dreams about their wedding day.

"I want to settle down." you reply with a sad face. He was working on his career - and he had no time to settle down. He was silent for a moment - thinking of a million things he'd reply to you. "I've already got my life handled - my career is flourishing, marriage and babies are the only thing left, Jace." you explain.

"What about me?" he questions, pointing at his laptop that had 30,000 words for his new series. "You can write while being married to me." you scoff, and something in his eyes shifted.

"I'm sorry - I don't think you're getting the point. I don't want to get married because everyone who gets married fight all the time." he pointed out, now raising his voice by a few decibels. The calmness that flooded his features were gone now - and he was fuming with rage. "We're not gonna be like your parents." you argue.

"How do you know that?" he interrogates, his grip around your thigh tightens. "How can you promise me your everlasting love? How can you promise me that you'll love me everyday?" he repeats, there was a storm hidden behind those honey irises. Your eyes soften as you began to realize that there wasn't love between you anymore.

"I can't promise all of that - but I promise to choose you everyday." you profess, but he refuses to believe you. "Babe, we're fighting all the time - I haven't seen you in a month. If we can't agree in this marriage thing, then maybe we should break up." his voice softens, tears brimming his eyes.

He still loved you - but he knew that it was going nowhere. He wanted a relationship that lasted and agreed with him. You were too different - too interesting. You take a deep breath, standing up and releasing yourself from his embrace.

He was expecting you to say 'no' like all the other times before. But you walk silently - grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

deuxmoi

(your name) is allegedly broken up with nepo-baby Jace Velaryon. (he's the son of model/heiress Rhaenyra Targ who was popular in the 90's and the hippie who made a cult, Laenor Velaryon)

archiebald22: omg why?? didn't she just have an interview a few weeks ago with jimmy fallon?

(a year later)

He was undressing you with his mere gaze. His name was Aemond, a popular businessman in Europe and Asia. He was handsome in person, with long blonde hair and a purple eye that glimmered in the moonlight. You shouldn't be horny just by staring at him - but you are, because he oozed with sex-appeal.

"Aemond Targaryen," he introduced himself with a smile, and you shake his hand. "(Your name)" you greet, smiling in return.

This could be something new.

He wasn't anything like you've had before.

"What are you doing in this small country?" you inquire, walking beside him on the small gardens of the hotel. It's been a while since you've stepped foot in America, everything about New York reminded you of your West Village. "I heard that a beautiful singer was going to be here," he teased, ignoring the paparazzis that were chasing you around. He's heard your name a few times - mostly because his niece was a big fan of you.

"I don't think Beyonce's here" you joke in return, earning a soft chuckle from the man. "I'm talking about you." he answered. He reaches for the calling card inside his wallet, "I'd like to take you out on dinner sometimes." he smiled, walking away - realizing that his business-partners were calling him.

ynandjaceworld: the day that music died...... its been a year guys.

129 comments 450 likes

chamalamabingbong: mom and dad didn't even have a proper picture together 😭💔

ynfanbase: i kinda feel bad because dad's books suck - queefburger: yeah bcuz they're non-fiction 🤬

" - you look like a/an (your nationality) singer." the waitress points out, and you resist the chuckle that wishes to come out of your mouth. "I get that a lot." you smile, and she nods - walking away. Aemond laughs, seeing that you looked like a deer caught on headlights.

"It must be hard being famous," he converses, twirling the pasta on his fork and bringing it to his mouth. You lick your lips - his food looked delicious, meanwhile - you were stuck with a salad. "I've been famous since the dawn of time - I can't remember living life without the cameras." you answer, piercing the lettuce with your fork.

All you could think about was that creamy carbonara he was eating. Why do men always have that instinct that lets them know if food is good? Damn, you wanted one of those. " You've been famous for so long, but you still owe the IRS $6 Million" he opened his mouth to speak, and the world began to still around you.

Shit.

"Hey, that's not cool." you complain with a pout, still continuing to eat the salad on your plate. It was the cheapest thing in the menu. "I'm not here to shame you about the money that's in your pockets, I need your help - and I think you're the only one that's willing to help me." he calmed you down.

"Here's the thing, my father is going to give his entire inheritance to the first person that gets married in our family. Of course me, my brother and my nephew are fighting for that spot - seeing that my oldest sister doesn't want any ties with us." he whispered. He pushes the carbonara to your side, seeming to realize that you wanted it.

"- and trust me, I can fake a wedding." he added, in a low tone.

"What do I get in return?" you inquire, with an ambitious nature.

"$10 Million - I know that you're good with money. You just lost all of it trying to help your con-artist father." he stated, and you nod.

"Okay, I can play your fiancee." you hum.

part two

my first time writing in this style.

@beaconofthehightower @casualheartadorable @glame @yentroucnagol

[dearmura]

heyyy can i request a riki fic where yall argue and u ignore him but he tries realll hard to make it up to u?? tysmmmm

all that matters

☆ cw. she/her pronouns used to refer to reader

☆ pairings. idol! riki × fem! reader

☆ genre. established relationship, fluff, a little angst (they make up in the end dw), misunderstandings

☆ synopsis. when you refuse to talk to riki after a disagreement, he can't stand it, doing everything in his power to make it up to you

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

you have the reached the voicemail of nishimura riki, please leave a message after the tone *beeeeep*

rolling your eyes, you lock your phone, throwing it across your bed with a humph, curling yourself into a ball as you sulk under your blanket. as per usual, it was late at night, way to late to stay out, and riki was still not home from practice. a few texts sent to the other members suggests that practice ended hours ago, yet, riki stayed much later, like always

you appreciated his hard work, you really did. but was it so wrong to miss one's boyfriend? to want to spend time with him? it sure seemed like it to you, considering his empty promises everyday of coming home early, which he never seemed to fulfill

just as you were about to sulk further, you heard keys just outside your door, jolting you from your thoughts. though you were mad, in the end, you still missed him and couldn't resist greeting him, albeit, ready to scold him

slowly creaking the door open, riki assumed you were asleep by now considering how late it was but was instantly proven wrong when he was greeted to a fuming y/n tapping her foot, arms crossed

he knew he was screwed

"hey, angel~ why are you up so late? you didn't have to wait for me you kn-"

"don't 'angel' me, nishimura. I should be asking you that same question, now shouldn't I?" you interrupt, not giving him the chance to sweet talk his way out of this one

"y/n..." he continued, your name feeling weird as it rolls off his tongue, not being used to calling you anything other then a term of endearment

"I'm sorry, I really really am, but I have a comeback just around the corner and that's my priority right now" he tries. though, judging by your reaction, he assumes his words weren't the best articulated. you scoff

"more important than me? you didn't even bother to answer my calls. and don't even try to say you were busy, nishimura. I know practice ended hours ago" you knew you were being a little immature, but you couldn't think straight, fed up with ignorance

"baby I-" "just leave me alone. it's not like you care enough to prioritize me anyway" you spit bitterly

he tried to approach you but you just pulled away, needing a moment to yourself. in the heat of the moment, you walked away, leaving the boy dumbfounded as he watched your figure slowly reach rather and rather away from him. as you reached your room, you slammed the door, sliding down the wooden frame as tears brimmed in your eyes. you knew you were being dramatic but your mind was too clouded by emotions to even care

finally snapping out of his thoughts, riki quickly followed after you, only to be met with the door to his face. the quiet hitches of your breath from beyond the door made his heart break and mind go into overdrive, absolutely hating himself for being the reason you were in that state. as he tries to reason with you, you only pull away further, needing a moment to collect yourself, leaving him feeling what he could only describe as empty

he couldn't be upset with anyone but himself. he knew he was in the wrong for neglecting your feelings and needs in favor his work. he knew you had every reason under the sun be mad at him right now. but he couldn't deny how much he wanted you in his arms right now, showering you with kisses and being lulled to sleep by your little snores. in respect of your wishes, he painfully parts from the door, a tear slipping down his cheek as he lays on the couch. as you sulk to yourself, you don't even realize your boyfriend just in the other room crying himself to sleep, drowning in guilt and self loathing

✧

the next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, reminding you of your tears the previous night. with a clearer mind, you reminisce of how dramatic you were being and feel a pang of guilt when you see the boy not sleeping beside you. groggily, you shuffle out of bed and into the kitchen to search for the boy, but he is no where to be seen. the thought of him heading to practice this early saddened you just as it did before

with a heavy sigh, you opened the fridge door, searching for something to eat when the front door opened. at this point, you were fed up with his audacity. the fact that he knew you were upset and didn't even try to reason with you, only continuing to make the same mistake again. not even wanting to bother with him, you storm back into your room before he could reach the kitchen

unbeknownst to you, the boy walked in, a devasting smile on his face as he held a bouquet of flowers in his arms, a DVD of your favorite movie, and your favorite snacks, waking up extra early to head to the store as soon as it opened. as he searched the house, his shoulders dropped when you were no where in sight. knocking at your door, he tries to keep a cheery mood but is slapped in the face when you don't even want to talk to him

at this point, his emotions got the best of him and he couldn't hold back his tears. sliding down the door, he drops down to his knees and sobs, utterly disgusted with himself

just beyond the door, you hear little sniffles and whines. though you were upset, he was still your boyfriend after all. worrily, you open the door and your eyes are met with a slumped riki with tear-stained eyes, disheveled hair, and a tear soaked shirt. looking up, he only sobs more

"I-I'm so *hiccup* sorry, angel. I know I'm a horrible *hiccup* boyfriend. p-please don't break up with *hiccup* me" his voice breaks as he offers you the bouquet of flowers, the DVD and snack bags scattered behind him

seeing his state only brought you to tears. wordlessly, you dropped to your knees with him and embraced him a tight hug. the warmth of his hold you missed oh so much brought you indescribable comfort

"no I'm sorry for pushing you away, my love. and I would never break up with you" you reassure him, feeling his hold tighten around you. face emerging from the crook of your neck, he manages to whisper out

"I'm sorry I was so *sniff* selfish and didn't prioritize y-" "shh shh shh, it's okay baby. I understand. you're with me now, that's all that matters" you massage his scalp, placing little pecks here and there, successfully calming him down

"now let's watch this movie" you reach for the DVD laid behind the boy, giving him a smile

"and I call dibs on the Takis" you state matter of factly, making him giggle, ruffling your hair at your cuteness

"it's all yours, princess"

fin

[kazumiku]

woah kazumiku could you write a heizou drabble whenever you have the chance!! Feel like the heizou tag has been starved lately 🤯

PLEASEEE I need one of him interrogating reader and he’s like serious but also teases us I HOPE YOU GET WHAT I MEAN like teasing us for not having a fool proof plan but even if we did either way we would’ve gotten caught cuz he’s the best detective but like ykw WHATEVER YOU SAYY OFFICER SHIKANOIINNN MEOOOOWWW 😍😍😍😍😍

he can arrest me if it means I get to be graced by that glorious face every roll call 🥰

Also hope you’ve been well it’s been a while! 🗣️

- meow anon

HAI MEOW ANON! i have been doing well, how are you!!! im gonna admit my writing has been declining lately so i hope this was an okay read 🥹 i wrote a lot more than i think i should've omg im saur sorry i miss his silly 😭😭

gn!reader, mentions of alcohol & shoplifting, crack (?), fluff (?), heizou kinda cute, 893 words !!!

The clock ticked loudly on the plain white wall, echoing through the interrogation room where you're situated across a certain detective of wine red hair and striking emerald eyes. Eyes in which seemed to scrutinize your, perusing into the deepest, darkest parts of your soul, sending a chill down your spine.

To be interrogated enabled your nerves more than enough, probed by questions you held your tongue into. "The cat's already out of the bag, what's holding you back?" Heizou's smooth voice conveyed through you, one brow tweaked up, although more in interest than intrigue. The both of you knew what you were doing here, sat on a cold metal chair with your hands shackled by metal cuffs.

The corners of your lip downturned to a scowl. Although it's more than a pout like a glare. You looked awfully stupid, as much as you felt like so, too.

He clicked his tongue at your plain defiance, but it didn't deter his will. He'll get you to speak, one way or another. He is, of course, if not one, but the only greatest detective in all of Inazuma! A little prodding goes a long way, and a challenge like the one you put up is what he seeks to break through.

This wouldn't be too much work.

… Although, it would be too soon for him to conclude that, given you've already refused to answer the opening questions to this session. But his intuition told him to otherwise. You'll speak sooner enough.

"There is footage, by the way. Had you not known that there cameras was over you around the store, either way, how can a criminal allow such an important key to escaping pass their mind?" The detective brought a hand to his chin, the corner of his lip tugging up to a teensy, shit-eating grin. "But what should I be expecting of a little criminal like you? You're better at looking cute and stupid than using your intellect for the better." He could already note the slight clench of your palm as they perch on your lap, a little detail that spoke volumes than it should.

Your brows furrow together, seeing the subtle shift of his expression even under the subdued lighting of the room. Still, your lips are knitted, but he can tell you undoubtedly had your tail tucked between your legs, and the admission of defeat will come soon after. "The criminal broke a glass while running away. So careless, don't you agree? The forensics team already confirmed a handprint. Want to guess whose it was? Give me a dime of your thoughts."

You could tell where he's going with this, and as much as you tried to not let your temper get the best of you, Heizou exasperated you more than you'd like. "How would I know? You smile like a smartass officer, act like one, 'detective' Shikanoin." the title rolled mockingly off your tongue, and a name you can't seem to respect.

"Yikes," he chuckled, amuse colouring his tone. "Feisty. But that's too bad. A guess doesn't take up years off your life to articulate, does it? Either way, who's acting like a smartass now, while you tell me to do my job… when I obviously am."

His responses never failed to make you tick, and he looked more arrogant than ever to have finally received a response from you. "Let's not make this any longer, unless you want to see me again tomorrow," the detective winked, unironically so.

Moving forward, he knew he had to try harder to win over. He settled his palm on the table, which separated the both of you, his fingers start tap on the surface as his olive gaze bored through you.

"A confession is all it takes. This isn't your first offense, you'll get a longer sentence than you'd come to want. And would you like that? Locked up behind bars, with grubby prisoners, bad, bad people… who knows what they'll do to pretty little you?"

"What the hell!" you snapped, on the edge of your seat on the verge of tackling the smug detective down. "It was just a few cheap bottles of booze, probably not even worth over a thousand mora! Why are you treating this like I caused an actual felony!"

The cards all played in his favour, in the end. "So, you admit to shoplifting?"

You bit your tongue, but there's no point. Every little clue leads to you, every evidence has your mark. You couldn't help but be sullen, your back slouching slightly. The primal urge to jump and beat him to a pulp was tempting, but you wouldn't want to get in more trouble than you already do, do you? "… It's not that serious."

Snapping his fingers, he beams suddenly, like a sporadic ball of energy as his pearly whites greet your muddled vision. "I'm estimating at least thirty days and a hefty sum for your wallet. But don't worry, for your easy compliance, I'll have someone pay the fine to bail you." settling his index finger to his lip, "Keep it a secret though, pretty. I'll see you the next time you commit a crime."

Oh, well... It seemed you've stolen something else too. Something of his.

"Not too much trouble, though. My heart couldn't take it if you caused something furthermore drastic."

main navi!

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Hii~ I'll say firstly I'm keeping things strictly speculative and I'm NOT diagnosing anyone since I'm not a doctor.

I've noticed this for so long and just wanted to out this in the world asgdjdjfkf but khaotung gives me MAJOR adult with undiagnosed adhd vibes. The messy car (bottles in the front seat?!), always messy room, extremely creative hobbies and passions (song writing/ composing/singing/ acting), impulsive purchases !!!, frequently getting lost even with maps, engineering major but cant math, has a hard time rmring past events even though he's in the same location (timeblindness). I have ADHD too and I can see such a striking resemblance in me and him it’s crazy. (Ofc everybody presents with stuff like this but when it's excessive that's when you know)

I've watched and rewatched interviews and content enough to see how he tends to be a little spacey and needs to ask things twice to make sense. (People with ADHD struggle usually with too many thoughts, attention going everywhere instead of just the task at hand) And oh when I saw that gifset where he's like he asks first's help to organise his tasks for him my heart just died cz yes!!! (That's troubles with sequencing and work ordering that we folks struggle with and there's his bestie just calmly helping him out oh it made me heart hurt sm but anyway-)

He's my little aloof baby girl with 26739 facial expressions cz he cannot for the life of him calm tf down. He's so reactive and expressive and in the moment, yet he falls over his words (not all the time, yes, but A LOT). My boy is doing his fckin best and has grown so so much and I adore him for that.

His sleep habits??? Classic adhd. Can't fall asleep cz his brain wouldn't stfu. (He said that himself in one radio interview)

His shopping addiction is just him boosting his dopamine every chance he gets. And I get him. So much.

Somewhere he also talked about how he got burnt out and couldn't get out of bed and I just. I just wanted to hug this boy bcz- oh. Oh it all makes sense. (ADHD folks are notorious for burning out cz they already run on little to no fuel. They have to work extra hard for things others do without effort and that gets so goddamn hard)

Manager can’t reach him. Hyper aware of his surroundings (hence attuned and caring to everyone around him). He frequently gets distracted by fans screaming while he's talking (cz of the external stimulus) - and first has spoken on his behalf to not misunderstand him 🥹 (Again bcz ADHD makes your attention go everywhere and you can't regulate that shit)

But why am I even going on about this? There's plenty of people out there who don't have/require a diagnosis bcz they're doing just fine.

YES. YES.

This makes me all the more emotional bcz yes, people, community, friends, family when all of them pick up on your lost pieces life just gets so much bearable.

First is that person for Khaotung 100%.

He literally called First his second manager, he asks First to organise his work for him, answer for him. He looks for him everywhere because he needs him like genuinely, genuinely needs him to be there. (Like that one time he won't let him go off stage bcz he was taking pictures and didn’t want to be alone aahdhajsk)

Like we call First as the one who clings to Khaotung, let's be honest the whole company says it. But when I see Khaotung with First it's like he turns towards him like he's the sun. Pre-FK, in interviews he used to be so shy and struggle at articulating things, but with First taking the reigns he got the space to become better at his own pace and that's what I love about them sm :(

Okay I'm done. I'm just saying he might (again, keyword MIGHT) have ADHD. It's a whole spectrum and having friends around who aren’t judgemental and willing to share the load for you makes life easier and bearable and First is that person for him which just makes me admire and love this pairing even more aaagsfhjdk :((((

So, finally, what do you think about this? Sorry if this is in any way unsettling you don't have to answer it I just wanted to get it out haha

Wow anon, this is certainly a long post😅. You must have thought about it hard.

I have no training to diagnose ADHD. However, I'm glad you identify with Khaotung and sees yourself in him.

That's why most of us love the boys, yeah? In some ways or another, they are relatable and we connect with them. (On top of their kind, sweet nature, amazing acting skills plus beautiful faces of course!!!🥰🥰🥰)

Either way, some of the habits you listed above can easily be considered annoying to a lot of people. Clearly, First just finds everything Khaotung does adorable (but can you blame him? 🥺🥺🥺…look at this pookie!)

They balance each other superbly well. Yin and Yang if you want to call it ☯️

So, I agree with you when you say First is the person for Khaotung (just as Khaotung is for First)

(Khaotung towards First during an interview) ☝️

And you are absolutely right when you say that it's very easy (from the outside) to see First appears to be the "clingier" of the 2, but I suspect privately, Khaotung is just as sticky (he is just not as open about it like First, and I'll be addressing this on a different ask I got).

There is a quote by Walt Whitman (American poet) - "Keep your face towards the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you."

And so, your statement of Khaotung looking at First like he is the sun, oh yes... he does it all the time!! (be it in official photoshoot, concerts or events)

[stjohnstarling]

Hello! Love 'What Manner of Man'! It inspired me to make my own vintage gay story myself!

But I'm having an issue with outlining, since outlining a novel feels more close-ended than a longer-form serial novel is.

Do you have any advice? Or resources, etc?

So you have no way of knowing this, but I am actually obsessed with story structure. It’s maybe the part of storytelling I’ve spent the most time consciously working with, so sorry in advance because I’m about to go on a dubiously helpful monologue. It’s a bit tricky for me to answer about resources, since the things I used when I was learning have been lost to the sands of time. That being said I have a couple pieces of advice:

If you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t be afraid to find a template. I wish I could link you a good one but I don’t have any on hand. When I was first learning to write novels, I actually found a few different standard novel structure templates and used them to outline a bunch of novels I never intended to write, as practice. Bad and silly ones that were just fun to play with, where there was no pressure to write anything I’d ever want anyone to see. My background is in music, so my instinct when I don’t know how to do something is to isolate that element and practice it on its own, and it’s never steered me wrong.*

But more than that - what you’re feeling as closed-ended is that you’re trying to write a story with structure, as opposed to one that is mostly improvised. I remember feeling this too, when I first started exploring writing novels, but this is one of those cases where limitations are actually what gives you freedom.

Structure is part of the artistry of storytelling - just like poetry has forms like sonnets and sestinas, and songs have verses, bridges, and choruses. You know intuitively the structure of a pop song, and that heightens the pleasure of listening to one as you anticipate the build up to the chorus. Stories are like this too. The structure is an important part of the audience’s enjoyment of the final piece, whether they know it or not.

I’ll give an example. Season one of AMC’s The Terror is a piece of fiction that is structured with some serious artistry, above and beyond just good craftsmanship, its structure is a crucial part of how it creates meaning. As a result a lot of what its fans do is analyze it for parallels in its storytelling. I don’t think many of them would articulate what they enjoy about it as “this is a well structured story,” but the structure is actually one of the main things the fandom engages with.

More than any writing resource, the best way to learn is to study and analyze stories you admire - why things are put in a certain order and why events fall at the points in the story that they do. When are you anticipating, when are you experiencing catharsis, where in the story do those things happen? Explore widely! You don’t have to limit yourself to novels! Movies are great for getting a basic understanding of how you can structure a story because the time and space requirements they’re subject to mean movies tend to be very rigidly structured. There’s no time to mess around like there is in long forms of fiction like novels.

I encourage you to embrace structure as a part of the art and a potential tool for expression and beauty! I can’t tell you how rewarding it is.

*I am aware that this advice does not work for a lot of people, so if it doesn’t work for you that is also perfectly fine! Everyone is different.

[edenfenixblogs]

Hello, as a non-Jewish person I have read Night because of your posts. I am not very good at articulating my thoughts, and if anything I say brings up questions for you I will try and answer them. The beginning where there is a sense of hope, is so awful because it just constantly gets worse and worse. The worsening of the regulations while the people of his village tell themselves that it is not too bad, but it is terrible, right from the first limitation, and even before it, all the events that led to it.“German laborers were going to work. They would stop and look at us with no surprise” (100), “And the spectators observed those emancipated creatures ready to kill for a piece of bread”(101). This dehumanization, I wonder how did the German citizens live with it? This sentiment continues on to this day, and yet it is dismissed so easily. “I was sixteen” His relationship with his religion is hurt so much, this general feeling of hopelessness that other people around him also feel, “Just like Rabbi Eliahu’s son, I had not passed the test”. He feels such guilt, he tries so hard to help his father, even as he is starving himself.

While I read this book, sometimes I thought that whatever is happening in this book was not that bad. Sometimes they would get a thicker soup and that would make him happy. How awful is that? For this to be normal for him. For this to not be unusual to me. In the stories of the Holocaust that I have learned, these things are not unfamiliar, the starvation, the apathy of other civilians, the death marches. His story has been categorized in my mind as another set of terrible things that were done to a Jewish person during the Holocaust. His story, every single atrocity that was done to him, I can not imagine properly, yet I only feel an undefinable upset over what happened to him. I think there is something wrong with that? I have very recently discovered that I am, in fact, antisemitic, from your posts and someone else that also realized their antisemitism (which you pointed out), and am trying to outgrow it. I am concerned that my reaction to this book is greatly affected by antisemitism. I can’t tell, am I telling myself that his suffering was ok? Am I? In the book, there are often mentions of Jewish culture that I do not know of. For example, “Shavuot” and the New Year being in summertime. I understand that these are google-able questions, but I was wondering if you have resources for a general introduction into Jewish culture and history? I hope by learning more I can dismantle my antisemitism. If you know a better way to do so, I would appreciate if you could let me know! Thank you for the recommendation to read Night, I will read All But My Life next. I am sorry if my concern over my antisemitism reads as shallow, I do not know how else to express it.

Friend, I am SO PROUD OF YOU and SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU!!!!!

I have said repeatedly that all journeys begin somewhere. More people are antisemitic than are not antisemitic, because that’s how systemic oppression works. You have been taught to hate me.

I thank you for seeing our shared humanity and working to unlearn the harmful things you know.

1. How did the Germans live with the dehumanization? The same way people are living with the dehumanization of Jews now. German antisemitism was deeply tied to antisemitic concepts and tropes that long predated Hitler. These tropes and conspiracy theories had been floating around Europe for a very long time. Furthermore, they have never gone away. All the old tropes and conspiracy theories are resurfacing in the internet age, because the Holocaust only temporarily shamed antisemites, but not enough significant cultural shifts occurred to stop it from rising again.

2. “…sometimes I thought that whatever was happening was not that bad…” I think I see what you are saying. I don’t know your age or where you are from, so I’m not sure if you’ve ever dealt with these kinds of feelings before, let alone how to articulate them — or how to do so in English. But you seem to be horrified by what is happening but you also seem to feel guilt that you find moments of relief in the horrible times as well. I don’t think that makes you a bad person. I just think that makes you a person. The human mind is not built to comprehend trauma on the scale seen during The Holocaust. It instinctively tries to find moments of reprieve that prove things aren’t that bad. And, to be fair, Judaism applauds this. It is a very Jewish idea that we should always look for moments of joy even when our hearts are steeped in misery. Because life is joy. And it is sometimes impossible to wrap our minds around how joyless life can be, and often was for Jews during this time. But your instinct to recognize the impulse to say “well, this day/moment/experience wasn’t so bad” and correct yourself to say, “actually this is a horrific terrible thing that just wasn’t as bad as that other horrific terrible thing that just happened” instead is a good instinct. One of the reasons the Holocaust occurred was because both Jews and non-Jews gave in to this instinct to minimize suffering. Jews minimized our own suffering and clung to hope until it was too late too late to fight back successfully. From the moment we were told to register on lists and wear stars and get on trains, we all should have fought. We should have fought louder and more to condemn Hitler while he was on the rise and to shame those who would vote for him. But ultimately, we were still outnumbered terribly and nothing we did could have stopped the horrors that followed if non-Jews didn’t support us. Non-Jews, of course, bare the true guilt and responsibility for the Holocaust. They refused to question their own hatred. They turned a blind eye to the rising antisemitism. They abandoned their friends in need. They complied with hostile forces who threatened them in order to betray the Jews around them.

Your job as a non-Jew is to never repeat those mistakes. Never let an instance of antisemitism go unremarked on. Ever. And learn what antisemitism looks like. Refuse to ever let it exist or ignored in your presence.

Everyone likes to pretend they would do this, but very few ever do. The reality is that some people hate Jews so much, they will stop being your friend for defending us. And to be a good person, you have to be willing to let those people leave your life if they are unwilling to let go of their hate and learn to do better. The reality is that, at some point, you may very well be asked to choose to reject a friend for the sake of the safety of Jews you have never and will never meet. The good news is that this is not the case the majority of the time!

Most people want to consider themselves good people. And most people want the approval of their peer groups.

Your job is to steer the attitude of your peer group away from antisemitic thinking and toward peace and deconstruction of hateful systemic antisemitism—rather than allowing your peer group to steer you toward the comforting familiarity of Jew-hatred.

3. “…I have recently discovered that I am antisemitic…” I forgive you. As I said, most people are. I draw a distinction between someone who is antisemitic and someone who is an antisemite. You have harmful and negative opinions about Jews because of the systemic bigotry you have been surrounded by your whole life. But this hatred has not become your identity. You recognize this hatred as a part of you that must be discarded. Antisemitism is something you have, not something you are. And you are doing the right things to make sure you stop being antisemitic. This, to me, means you are not an antisemite. If you give up and stop caring about Jews and unlearning these harmful thought patterns, that would make you an antisemite. Because that would mean you are comfortable folding the antisemitism you possess into your identity and sense of self. It seems to me you do not wish to do this. And that means you’re growing and changing for the better. And that is beautiful.

4. “I am concerned that my reaction to this book is affected by antisemitism.” Yeah it probably is. But so is most people’s reaction to this book. That’s the point. Your being willing to confront that is what is important. It is about looking at the places where you lose empathy for Jews, asking yourself why, and then fixing the reason you find.

5. “Am I telling myself his suffering was ok?” I think you’re doing the opposite. I think you’re re-sensitizing yourself to something you were de-sensitized to. That is difficult and admirable.

6. Regarding Jewish culture:

6.a. “Shavuot” is a Jewish holiday. It is the anniversary of the day G-d gave the Torah to the Israelites. In general, a good way to familiarize yourself with stuff like this is to look for resources about Jewish holidays and what they mean. Hebcal offers short summaries of each Jewish holiday that you can import into your phone calendar and learn about as they happen. Wikipedia has a page about Jewish holidays that you can explore. So does the Jewish Virtual Library.

6.b. Jewish culture is vast and impossible to summarize simply. I would recommend starting with the Wikipedia Page on Jewish Culture and exploring whatever seems interesting to you. You’ll never learn it all and that’s ok! I’ve never met a Jew who knows it all either! We have so many subcultures all over the world shaped by unique experiences in diaspora. The most important thing to take away is that no matter how far apart we are or how differently we practice, we are all one people whose goal is to love our fellow humans and do our best to make the world a better place. This is called Tikkun Olam, which means repairing the world. This in itself is a huge concept. But it all relates to making the world better for one another.

I think you are doing a beautiful and amazing thing. And you, by choosing to remove hate from your mind and your actions, are actively making the world a better place. You are repairing some of the damage done by systemic antisemitism.

You are doing Tikkun Olam. And that, in every possible situation, is the best thing you can ever do. Thank you, @JellyMarbles