#what's weird is that i have been anxious but it's been such a grounded healthy anxiety

[lokilysolbitch]

no but i feel so motivated. like. why do i feel like tunnel vision i didn't know i had is opening up. i feel like i'm realizing how many options i have??? just for like, average normal stuff. like i can just draw what i want and cook what i want and go where i want. this is so weird. i feel like something just opened up

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 1

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

A concept I've been toying with. Will probably post the complete fic to AO3 once I've got a few more chapters written, but though I would share some of the chapters here first to see what people think. This fic is inspired by the (musical mostly, but also novel) of Daddy Long Legs.

Warnings: Implications of SA - nothing graphic

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Chapter 1

Eat the rich.

Seriously.

But what about Bruce Wayne? He does so much good for Gotham. He’s so handsome and tall. His philanthropy has… Shut up. Bruce Wayne didn’t get a free pass just because he was pretty. He was still a billionaire who needed a healthy dose of reality before you even considered calling him a good guy. Rich people were fucking weird, and you were a true victim of the elite and those weird habits.

Sure, their lavish parties paid your bills, if just barely, but that didn’t mean you had to like being a pawn in their game. This party lasted later than you wanted it to. They always did.

Ice sculptures weren’t cheap. Usually, they cost a quarter million to make depending on the time of year and whether Mr. Freeze had recently wrought havoc on Gotham. You counted eight in total as you wove through the crowds with a silver platter laden with aged beef sprinkled with edible gold leaf. It didn’t even taste good, but they were a hit.

One couldn’t account for good taste in these circles.

You still smelled vaguely of expensive hors d’oeuvres as you trudged up the stairs that emptied onto Park Row. A still quiet greeted you on the street. You were alone. No oddly built young men with an affinity for classic literature and Amazonian superheroes nipping at your heels like an eager puppy. While not the most unpleasant encounter you’ve had on the Gotham subway, you learned quickly it was better to be wary and take the kindness of strangers with a grain of salt.

A midsummer breeze rustled your hair as you drew the hood of your yellow jacket. Yellow was a bold choice for this side of town, but it also diminished your chances of getting taken out by a speeding vehicle on your walk home. Safety and preservation at all costs—that’s what you’d been taught.

Puddles rippled under your feet, pooling between the cracks and potholes that littered the street. A storm passed during the party, leaving the sky clear and a half-moon to light your way.

Silver linings. You could have been caught in the rain.

Hugging your bag closer to your person, you ducked down a side street. Darkness enveloped you like a shroud. You might have disappeared entirely if not for your obnoxious hoodie. The narrow alley had just enough room for you to walk, brick and mortar scraping your palms as you pressed past a dumpster.

You wouldn’t usually take a shortcut this late at night. Keeping to the main arteries of Park Row were safer, if just barely, but you were also anxious to get home to finish your—

“Drop the bag.”

Something solid pressed against your spine. A gun? A knife? It was hard to tell through your jacket, and it was the unknown that tightened your chest and throat. Given the narrow alley, you were more likely to get hurt if you fought back, and if he had a gun, it was over anyway. You could scream, but no one would come. You weren’t completely helpless, but you also knew when to cut your losses. It’s not like you had much on you anyway.

Lifting your hands in defeat, you slid the bag off your shoulder and set it on the ground.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Nice and easy.”

A shiver crept up your spine, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you shudder. You waited, hoping he would take the bag and bolt, but you were never that lucky. He pressed the object more firmly against your back as he snatched the bag. Not a knife, you decided, given that it didn’t feel all that sharp.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. Muggers didn’t usually stick around unless they had an ulterior motive beyond theft. Dread bloomed heavy in your chest. You were a woman, alone at night, walking in a dangerous neighborhood.

It was bound to attract some attention because men like this one sucked. People would say it was your fault for taking a shortcut, your fault for wearing yellow, your fault for deigning to be a woman trying to live her life. You, alone, would bear the consequences and the blame. It wasn’t fair, but it was how society treated its victims.

You swallowed your vitriol and said, “I don’t have anything else on me.” The waver in your voice betrayed your fear, and you hated yourself for it. “Just take my bag and go.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s your rush? I thought you and I could have a little fun before we called it a n—”

Bang.

Your ears rang as the bullet sent bits of brick raining down over your heads. The pressure on your back disappeared. You felt no pain, but you patted yourself down anyway. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, after all. When you concluded there were no extra holes to concern yourself with, you whipped around to face the man. It would have been smarter to run, but you’d be damned if you left without your bag.

A young man with gaunt cheeks and sandy blonde hair gripped your bag in one hand and a rusty lug wrench in the other. His attention settled on something over your head. You shoved aware your embarrassment as you followed the line of his gaze.

Red Hood stopped on the edge of the roof with a gun held aloft in one hand. He whistled sharply, the noise distorted by a modulator in his helmet. “Drop the bag. If you want to fuck around, I promise my next shot won’t miss.”

You blinked up at him in disbelief. Most dubbed Red Hood the hero of Park Row—at least to those that needed it. He was more of a thorn in the side of the crime syndicates that operated out of here. You were convinced he didn’t really exist. You’d never seen him, only the evidence of his work, but there were enough vigilantes traipsing about to make you question his existence.

The leather jacket over his plated uniform was a choice, but who were you to question the fashion choices of the man holding the gun.

Hood whistled again. “Last chance.”

With gritted teeth, the man tossed you bag and sprinted off. Its contents scattered across a nearby puddle. Your catering apron, a beaten wallet, and some loose-leaf paper. Your heart leapt into your throat.

Your paper!

You dropped to your knees to salvage what you could as a pair of heavy boots hit the ground behind you. Misery swirled in your chest as you wiped away the muddy water with the sleeve of your hoodie. To think, you’d been swindled by a coward with a lug wrench.

“You should be more careful.”

You licked your teeth as the ink bled before your eyes. Not only was the paper ruined, but Red Hood saw fit to lecture you. Could this night get any worse?

“Maybe that guy should learn not to mug people.” You turned to face him, undaunted, even when he towered over you like a titan loomed over mortal men.

He hesitated, his expression hidden with his helmet, but you saw the way his shoulders tightened under your scrutiny. His broad frame blotted out the moonlight. You mirrored him, clinging to a shred of self-preservation in the face of a very real threat. Hood wasn’t good. He wasn’t bad. He just was. He might have saved you this time, but that didn’t mean you would stay in his good graces.

A beat of silence passed between you two before he knelt beside you to pick up the last of the sodden pages. There was no saving them. With a heavy sigh, you set them aside.

“Fuck.”

He took the pages and scanned their contents, not even trying to play it coy. You swallowed your protests in favor of a displeased glare. No one said vigilantes were well-socialized. If they were, they wouldn’t be parading the streets in costume.

“Is this… homework?” His modulator grated on your ears, but he sounded genuinely curious.

You didn’t expect follow up questions. From the sharp breath that crackled through his modulator, he didn’t know either. Knowing that his question caught him off guard amused you, so you decided to humor him with an answer.

“It’s an essay for a scholarship,” you explained, “Gotham University has one of the best writing programs in the city. I know I can get accepted, but I can’t enroll unless I have a scholarship to pay for it.”

“That’s shit luck.” He sounded upset, angry even. You might have been too if you weren’t still processing the situation. “Does that mean you have to rewrite it?”

“Next year, I guess.” You stuffed the rest of the things in your bag, shouldered it, and headed toward your apartment. I didn’t expect him to follow you, much like you didn’t expect him to have questions. It shouldn’t have surprised you when he did, still clutching your ruined essay in his gloved hands. Even standing, he felt like an indominable presence.

“Next year?”

“The deadline is tomorrow morning, and I don’t have time to rewrite it.”

“Couldn’t you submit it online?”

“Can’t. Electrocutioner zapped the foundation office last week and online systems are down until further notice. They refused to extend the deadline, so we’re forced to submit by mail or in person.” You decided to write yours by hand to stand out from the other applicants, a decision that you were now kicking yourself for.

Hood scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s Gotham,” you deadpanned, “Our city can’t shut down every time there’s an incident between Batman and the villain of the month. This was my last-ditch effort to secure money before the start of the new semester. I’ve tried the usual avenues with little success, even Wayne Enterprises despite being fundamentally against him and the expectations set by his foundations.”

Most came with an unpaid internship within a branch of the company. The experience alone would launch most student’s careers, but unpaid work did more harm than good for someone like you. Besides, you had no interest in business or medical research. Honestly, you should have never applied in the first place, but desperation drove people to do stupid things.

“I’ll try again next you,” you finished with another disinterest shrug. You prayed it looked convincing. “The writing program isn’t going anywhere, and I don’t need it to make it in the industry.”

Your stomach lurched. That program, Gotham University, could open doors you could only dream of knocking on—especially when it came to making connections. This industry was about who you knew rather than what.

You stopped and Hood stopped with you. Hood didn’t need to join you in your pity party. Your apartment sat around the corner. The fact that he had followed you this far should have unsettled you, but you felt oddly empty as you turned to face him.

Your eyes locked, even with the helmet shielding his. You wished to see his expression. Or know what his face looked like underneath. Were his eyes blue or brown, his hair light or dark? You didn’t even know what his voice sounded like without the modulation. Did it matter? He saved you. He empathized with your situation. It was more than you ever expected.

“I can make it from here,” you assured him, “I live around the corner and if someone jumps me between now and then, well, I know you’ll hear me scream.” You laughed, trying to make light of a situation that weighed heavily on your chest.

“Thanks for saving me,” you added when he failed to respond.

He offered the papers and the weight on your chest increased tenfold. “Are you sure you don’t want them? You could copy the part you can still read.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to sweat it.”

But you would cry over it, probably into a bag of chips or a pint of ice cream while Bridgerton played in the background, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes these things aren’t meant to be.”

Hood inclined his head as if he wanted to say something more. You waited, more curious than anything. Another beat passed before his hands fell back to his side. “Try to stay out of trouble. I won’t always be around to save you.”

But he was tonight and that was all that mattered. You were about to tell him as much, but he had already turned to walk away. You watched him go until the shadows swallowed him, and only then did you turn to go home.

[ellieswifie]

︿︿ ੈ[ ⛸️ ] ༉‧₊˚✧

icebreaker | matt sturniolo

♪ reflections — the neighborhood

summary: after an amazing ice skating performance your entire body breaks down and you start having a panic attack. but your boyfriend is right by your side...

warnings: boyfriend!matt x ice-skater!reader, angst, panic attack (reader), profanity, fluff towards the end, one sweet kiss, slightly rushed

authors note: fun fact, this was actually based on a dream i had a few weeks back. i have this weird thing where if i have a dream i loved and or cared about, i write what i can remember in my notes... it's not healthy but i have no regrets.

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

THE APPLAUSE WAS LOUD. your shaking hands held high in the air as you finished you beautiful ice skating piece you had been working on for months. the crowd screamed and whistled for several seconds as the judges rises for a standing ovation.

but your eyes stared high at the ceiling, having the gut-wrenching feeling that your performance was terrible. your legs weren’t strong, your posture was lazy, and your turns were absolutely shit. you let your hands drop to your sides, as the crowd's loud whistling fades out your mind. you gracefully leave the ice rink, receiving looks from other opponents and trainers.

your body felt shaking and weak as you walked to find your bench along the line of the audience, but your mind couldn’t focus, your thoughts weren’t processing. you looked weak, your performance was weak. negative thoughts crowded your head, and everything just felt foggy and fuzzy.

but when your eyes slowly faded back to focus, your coach reached over hugging you in her arms. she had whispered sweet nothings as you found yourself just clinging onto her.

she quickly pulled away when large hands found your waist, pulling you off the ground and into their arms. you immediately recognized the warmth of the larger figure. matt sturniolo.

your amazing boyfriend since high school. you weren't too surprised he showed up to support you. you've been through thick and thin with him and filming youtube. you both were so supportive of each other it was incredible how far you guys had come.

having his warm sent crowd your head had made your anxious feelings only go away for a second. your mind was filled back with the negative voices in your head when your boyfriend placed you back on your feet.

"you were fucking amazing!" nicks voice echoed behind matt. you tried smiling at your boyfriend's brothers coming over to give you their quick hugs, but your entire body just felt numb, lifeless. matt hadn’t noticed how you weren’t processing anything at first. he was smiling between you and the scoreboard waiting as judges proceeded to put in your score.

chris had reached between matt, pressing a large video camera in your face. you quickly flinch having your hands fall from your control. "guys, y/n is a fucking beast!" chris claimed, holding the camera. naturally, you weren't too fazed with a camera in your face. you and matt's relationship wasn't public, but many people knew and enjoyed you on the sturniolo's channel.

but having the camera so close to your face at this moment made you quickly panic. and matt was quick to notice. he watched as your face was full of fright, and how your hands were shaking uncontrollably. you weren't even sure why you felt so shaking and in panic but you matt's eyes glazed you entire face catching your frighten look.

"chris get the camera out of her face." matt said trying to maneuver himself in front if you, but chris stood confused. "what?" he muttered, lowering the camera slightly, but staying in his spot between his brother and you.

"get the camera out of her face." matt nearly shoved his brother out of his way as he moved to hold your shoulders. your eyes shifted, becoming watering from the thick air. your hands shook to rise to hold matt’s, but your entire body felt out of control.

"breathe, breathe," he whispered, easing his face closer to yours. but you couldn’t breathe, you felt like your entire body was drowning in your sweat, and disappointment, you felt weak and vulnerable.

your eyes glanced around you receiving several looks from the girls who had performed before you. you could just hear their thoughts. what is wrong with her? she can't even skate? she looks horrible.

you were quickly brought back to reality when matthew quickly rushed you towards the bench nearly by, placing you down first, then letting himself kneel in front of you. your breaths were heavy as you tried carrying words out of your mouth, but matt’s hand on your chest stopped you. it was comforting knowing you weren’t alone, but your entire mind said you would always be alone.

you shook your head, trying to cancel the horrible thoughts when matt pulled your face into his neck. "it’s okay, i’m here." you tried listening, but you just couldn’t. your breaths got heavier, your hands shook fast, you weren’t in control of your own body and it frightened you.

it frightened matt and his brothers, mostly matt. he wanted to help, he has suffered from these panic attacks in the past. it's terrifying and knowing how scared you are is breaking him. "just focus on my breathing, what do you hear?"

you pause nudging your head into his neck. hearing his slow breaths, sweet nothings, the echoed clapping from the stands. you place your shaky hands in his and he holds them. tight. he's assuring you while you try finding words- anything.

"i-i hear you..." you choke out. tears fall down your face falling onto matts bear skin. his entire body shivers causing you to lean off him to face his face. you needed to see him. "i hear you."

"because i'm right here." he raises your interlocked hands and kisses the back of your hand. "your not alone. i'm here- nick, chris..." your eyes dart to your coach who is carrying a gatorade water bottle and a hoodie. the hoodie belonged to matt. you borrowed it a while back but refused to give it back.

you can't hear anything anymore, you only hear matt and the sweet assuring words he's saying as he rubs circles on your hand. it's like your entire body clicked back into focus when you feel your breathing pick back up and your negative thoughts blow away.

matt's head looks back at you and a small smile plays on his lips. it's a small gentle smile. one that kills you every single time you look at him. "you okay?" he asks softly, unlocking your hands so he can rub your jaw softly.

you feel embarrassed.

you completely panicked in front of everybody. you cover your face in matt's chest hiding the way your cheeks quickly turn red. "i'm sorry..." you muttered.

matt rubs shapes around your exposed skin on your back. "about what?" "acting out in front of all these people." you whispered into his chest.

"don't feel sorry it's not your fault." you lean off his chest and look at him and he's still smiling. "you were amazing."

you want to cringe at how adorable he is, but you know you guys are just like that. you guys enjoy complementing each other and looking at each other for hours. "you are amazing." you poke your hand at his chest, hiding your blush "thank you for helping me..."

"no fucking way!" you hear chris shout from behind matt. you both turn your head to look at chris and nick jumping up and down like children. "what?" you inquire, drawing your eyebrows together. "you got a perfect score! you're in first place!" nick shouted, pointing up at the large scoreboard.

you eyes go wide at the screen. he wasn't wrong. it was right in front of your face, a perfect ten large in red letters. you couldn't believe it.

you look at your boyfriend smiling wide as you gives you that look. the you're amazing, you're incredible, i love you more than anything look. his head tilts to the side and you can't help but laugh at his happiness.

"see..." he drags out, leaning into you slightly. "you're amazing." you both are giggling at each other before he draws you close and places a soft kiss on your lips.

[foggyfanfic]

Villain!Leandra AU

What level of fandom is it when you start making AU’s of your AU’s? I mentioned that if the kids didn’t come along in Love and Fury-verse, the pressure of being Bruno’s sole lifeline while half the village sings songs about how evil he is would have eventually led to Leandra becoming very bitter and possibly a villain. So! Encanto if Bruno was married to a villainess (sort of, tried to keep the conflict as grounded and complex as it is in canon).

The AU's branch off from at Leandra's Labrynth, or whatever I called that fic. To sum up that story, Leandra is head over heels for Bruno and happy to take on half his burdens if it means being with him. He worries his burdens are too burdensome and will eventually strain their marriage. He starts waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It does not drop. Leandra loves him, and although being married to him isn’t always easy, she feels lucky to be the person that faces his challenges with him. Of course she does, he’s witty and handsome and treats her well.

So his anxiety keeps spiraling, he starts trying to earn love he already has. He keeps trying to take over her chores, he keeps buying her nice gifts she doesn’t need, it affects their sex life, it's very overwhelming to be on the receiving end. Leandra is the sort of person who goes a bit stir crazy without a project so the whole No Chores thing is not good for her. In the main version the kids come along and not only does this help anchor Bruno to the family, having the common goal of Raise Children puts Leandra back in the partner category for him. Without the kids, Leandra stays firmly planted in the inexplicably-loving-wife-who-I-can’t-lose-or-I’ll-be-completely-alone category no matter how many times her and Bruno try to talk it out.

Leandra, for her part, starts feeling sort of useless. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, she doesn’t know why she can’t make Bruno happy. He says the fact that she does make him happy is the problem, but that implies that his baseline is not happy and that’s worse (“You get how that’s worse, right Bruno?”). She slowly gives up fighting the gifts, and the pampering, because the fights themselves only serve to make Bruno more anxious. She tells herself these are temporary concessions, when she figures out how to reassure Bruno once and for all that she'll never leave him, she can then remind him she's his partner. Now she's looking for the source of his unhappiness, and because she doesn’t know what mental illness is, she concludes Bruno’s two problems are the village and his gift. She throws herself even harder into trying to get people to see how wonderful Bruno is, even though she’s sometimes in tears at night because “Why are they so stupid?! What is wrong with those people?!”

So, for a couple of years, Bruno and Leandra are caught in a vicious cycle. He’s aware that without her he’d be completely isolated, and her helping him maintain relationships with others just reaffirms that. He’s overly-protective/affectionate, she understands it’s coming from a place of fear so she tries to assuage his fear, this confirms to him he needs her and he continues to be overly protective/affectionate.

On the outside, the family doesn’t fully register the fact that Leandra is drowning. They see her volunteer to watch the kids so Bruno can have some time with his sisters, they see her arrange for weekly story time with the rest of the village so that only half the village is afraid of Bruno, they see her staunchly defend Bruno's reputation, and they see Bruno treat her like a queen. From the outside the marriage looks very healthy. It’s a little awkward, sure, that Bruno won’t let Leandra do any chores and that he freaks out if she gets a cold, but he’s always been a weird guy so as long as this works for them, no judgement. (This is not working for them).

The breaking point comes when Mirabel doesn’t get her gift and Bruno has that vision.

Like in canon, Bruno smashes the vision and tries to go into hiding. Like in the main AU, Leandra lies to protect Mirabel.

But now Bruno is in this weird in between that he isn’t in either canon or my original AU. He’s still connected to the family/miracle because he still has a loving wife who knows he’s in the walls and keeps bringing him food, but he’s not doing any visions anymore because “my gift wasn’t helping the family”. The visions start piling up, the future trying to break through and he is stubbornly trying to hold it back.

Outside the walls, Leandra has told Alma the truth, “Bruno is convinced his gift is hurting the family and now he’s hiding and trying to refuse his visions so he doesn’t hurt anyone any more and they're making him sick and I'm scared and I love him and I don't know what to do.”

To which Alma doesn’t know how to react. She also low key believes Bruno’s gift was hurting the family, but she didn’t realize Bruno felt that way too. And she had forgotten that he loved the family enough to do something as self destructive as this. She has Leandra bring Bruno messages, trying to convince him that it’s ok, he can come out of hiding, he does not have to give visions anymore. She and Bruno become weird sort of pen pals because they’re arguing back and forth on whether he can live in society without hurting his family. This strengthens their relationship, which strengthens Bruno’s connection to the miracle, which strengthens the visions.

A year after Mirabel’s gift ceremony, the visions break through, they start flowing through him and they don’t stop.

Leandra finds him, incoherent on his hammock, eyes glowing. She drags him out of the walls, into his bed, and gets Julieta to look at him. She can’t stop the visions. Nothing stops the visions. Bruno is stuck like this.

This breaks both Alma and Leandra.

From this point on they’re foils and low key in conflict. Alma blames herself for what’s happened to Bruno, and thinks the miracle can save him, she takes a step back from her role as family matriarch to start studying the miracle.

Leandra’s bitterness at the village means she continues to blame them for Bruno’s problems, them, and the miracle. She thinks if she can put out the candle she can save Bruno, and if the rest of the village hates her for it, well fuck ‘em. So whenever Alma is by Bruno’s side, Leandra studies the miracle as well, only she's trying to figure out how to kill the miracle once and for all.

Bruno is, thankfully, not in a lot of pain. The visions flow through him almost easily, and as long as he doesn't fight it, he spends the nine whole years this is happening not having any migraines. He is effectively blind, sometimes deaf if the visions have sound, and sometimes he doesn't even register the present at all. He gets exhausted seemingly randomly, some visions take more out of him than others and there's no way to predict (pun unintended) which ones. Leandra helps him train his rats and her dog to effectively be service animals for what is essentially a magic chronic illness. On good days he can wander around his room without any help other than his seeing eye posse of animals, when he does he leaves a trail of vision tablets in the sand. Leandra will find them, record them in a secret journal, then smash them so nobody benefits from her husband's illness. On medium days he'll sit in his old story telling tent and tell Mirabel and Antonio about any interesting visions that pass by his sight. On bad days he stays in bed, Leandra, Alma, or one of his sisters holding his hand, even though he has no idea they're there.

Ironically, he's closer to his family than he has been in years, which unfortunately keeps the visions flowing. Bright side, he’s finally convinced that nothing will scare his wife away.

The status quo for the rest of the family is that they're a little more fragmented than in canon. Bruno didn't disappear, his gift is making him sick, sometimes they can go talk to him, but sometimes they'll visit him and he'll be completely out of it. This shakes everybody up a bit. The miracle isn't supposed to hurt them. They know Alma is trying to figure out how to fix it so the unspoken rule is not to disturb her and if she asks you to help her with some sort of experiment, drop everything to do it. Pepa's gift is more volatile because instead of telling herself she's angry at her brother for the wedding thing and sweeping all other emotions under the rug, she's stuck watching him suffer, so the family gets used to not bringing her any of their problems. Julieta is now splitting her time between being the village healer and helping Leandra care for Bruno, so everybody agrees she's too busy to be bothered with your thoughts or problems. Isabela and Camilo end up the faces of the familia Madrigal, so they're also probably too busy keeping the villagers calm to bother. Luisa is always busy with chores, Dolores is always trying to block out the sounds of her mother, aunts, or grandmother crying over Bruno, so on and so forth, until the only people who consistently sit through the entire "family dinner" everyday are Félix, Antonio, Agustín, and Mirabel.

Casita seems to shrink over the years, and lose most of its color, while all of the doors other than the nursery recede back the way Bruno's did in canon. There are no communal sitting areas, the dining room is smaller, and Mirabel's quinceñeara is the first time in over a year the whole family (even Tio Bruno) come together.

And that's where the movie would start. But this is already pretty long so Imma stop here.

[sarasarami10]

Avatar boys ( Neteyam) x exhausted introvert reader SFW

(I think I’ve seen this concept before but still wanted to do it my way)

(Basing this on my own experience as an introvert btw)

Warning: not a lot except maybe anxious Neteyam and a lot of fluff.

Reader has had their consciences transferred so that why they possess human stuff (idk how they would survive as introvert whitout a good depressing song and a comfy hoody)

(Takes places at the metkayna village)

Word count :900

*=actions

[my owns thought and feelings]

Author’s note: wrote this in my notes at 11pm so sorry if there are many errors.

ENJOY!

Neteyam :

- You had been extremely social all week but for the past 3 days you couldn’t bare to see anyone, not even your boyfriend neteyam.

- Of course you would get out of your room to eat with your family and other stuff but you praticaly didn’t leave your bed, either listening to sad/calm music or watching your favorite old human tv shows on you tablet. ( just relaxing really)

- The first day he didn’t really mind it. He had asked one of your sibling about you and they just said you were tired and resting at home.

- He didn’t really thought anything of it, it was true you really look exhausted the day before.

- But by the third day he started to become anxious. Your siblings didn’t have any new news of you, and honestly he didn’t understood how someone perfectly healthy could just sleep for 3 whole days.

- At this point he thought this was only an excuse to not see him which kinda made him sad, had he done something wrong or did you just suddenly stopped liking him.

- By the end of the day he decided that he had had enough and when straight to your Maori after finishing his daily tasks.

- Upon arriving at your home he saw your sibling and asked them if he could go see you. Your sibling pointed at you room and left.

- It was the first time he had been inside your room. The first thing he noticed was the many human things you had. Their was a pile of heavy looking clothes on the ground some colourful shiny trinkets hanging from the roof and you, laying there on you mattress, eyes closed, wearing a wierd top with puffy sleeves and a hood over your head (a hoodie yess).

- Seeing you asleep and not wanting to wake you up too brutally, he sat down on the floor next to your mattress and softly patted your arm to wake you up.

- You awoke from your nap and saw neteyam standing over you. You pulled your hood back revelling some weird thing that almost looked as if they were stuck in your ears (neteyam pov)

- « Hello pretty boy. What are you doing here ».

- « Why are you ignoring me…? »

- « Huh? I’m not ignoring you ? »

- « Yess you are. If not why haven’t I see you since three days ago, huh? »

- « Hahaha. I’m not ignoring you… I just didn’t went anywhere »

- « liar. How could someone sleep for three whole days »

- I didn’t just sleep… I made a few jewelry, I drew for a bit I watch my fav movies… but I mostly just slept and listen to music. »

- *genuenly confused* « why? »

- « Idk.. I just didn’t felt like doing much I was just… really tired »

- *not convinced* « haha how can someone be that tired? You didn’t even do anything physically demanding lately. »

- « Well cause I wasn’t tired in that way »

- *lays next to you facing you* « what do you mean? »

- « Well… sometimes… when I spend too much time with other people, especially exited people like children, or your brother and aonung *he smiles* my energy just get drain really fast. So I need to take some time to myself to recharge my batteries. »

- « Oh… now that I think about it… I think it happened to kiri once…. She didn’t left her room for two days. Even my dad started to worry. *You giggle* So ? What do you ueselly do to « recharge your batteries »

- You look at Him smiling and take out one of your earplug to show him.

- « I put these bad boys on and listen to some of my favorite tunes. »

- « What are they?»

- « Earphones. You put them in you ears and music comes out of it, kinda like to thing your dad makes you use to communicate [as you can see I have just remember they have those but anyways]

- He look confused but you were too tired to try to explain to him bluethoot so you just putted it in his ear and pushed to play button.

- A calming song started playing. Even tho neteyam could understand most of the lyrics, he couldn’t really understand their meaning which kinda annoyed him.

- « What are you wearing? »

- « It’s called a hoodie. »

- « Aren’t you too warm with that on? »

- « No not really, it’s more for comfort angways »

- He turned his attention back to the music but after seeing him giving it too much thinking for a while, you putted your hand on his face to shift back his focus on you, softly stroking it with your thumb *gaves you a small smile*.

- You stayed like that, looking at each other just enjoying your company until you noticed him fall asleep.

- You pushed yourself closer to him, his face resting in the crook of your chest softly stroking his hair until you too found sleep.

END for neteyam.

There is a 90% chance that a do a loak version but for aonung and rotxo it will depend how much you guys like this I guess.

[ijustwannareadfanficsomljebote]

Nurse Ann HC!!

I always Liked Ann. I am , in fact, a gay little weird girl . Unfortunately, the creepy pasta fan base never really popularised her , as she never had a proper backstory. So I decided to write down little general things , quirks and such about her .

Ann's full name is Annabelle Bernard. French is her first language, but she doesn't have a heavy accent. She doesn't speak often so her voice is raspy and cold . She is much more expressive with her body language rather than her voice . As a result of that she often comes across as cold , dismissive and demanding - or threatening even .

She is 6'1 and super strong , tho she always wears heels . Her feet are deformed due to that (she can't lower her foot fully on the ground ) , therefore she is a s l o w walker . She has her comically large chainsaw , but due to her walking disability she just ends up dragging it around slowly and loudly .

Thanks to that she never really turns the giant on . She does , however, take precise care of it . She cleans it weekly , tests it daily and even replaces everything that isn't perfect. She has this very sturdy , black leather case for it. My guess is that she stole a very expensive guitar case .

Annabelle definitely is a perfectionist. A nurse must keep everything tidy , clean , sterile even , working and insuring her patients are well mentally and physically ; appropriately dressed and behaved. She is a tolerant , stubborn and somewhat self righteous person with a clear preference for complying individuals.

Annabelle never learned to express herself in any way other than professionally and sarcastically. She is a deeply lonely but introverted person , so she doesn't really pick up social cues and she does get overwhelmed sometimes . That being said she doesn't feel comfortable acknowledging or acting on her emotions –rather , she over explains and over thinks her actings and feelings , forcing herself to be preoccupied understanding then instead of feeling them . I don't see her to be paranoid, but she is definitely a closed off individual ((she definitely has a diary/journal)).

Her love language is quality time and acts of service. I see her to be somewhat touched starved , but I don't think she would ever act on it all that much - a nurse must be a professional after all . If she were to warm up to someone , I think she would be kind of anxious and akward . As I said she doesn't really pick up social cues well , so having a friend (or anything more) is scary for her — you are never catching her confessing that .

Her pronouns are she/her/they/them and I think she is a lesbian, who is somewhat afraid of (never really had) commitment. Tho she is a caring , well spoken lover(?).

Ann isn't as old fashioned as she might seem , but she definitely prefers blogs and books over videos and pictures (if yk what I mean) . No one knows who , why or how made her . She calms she's been alive for so long she doesn't really remember. Matter of fact she forgot her original name (and who knows how many others) , Annabelle Bernard is simply a "lovely and polite" name .

She might not have a medical degree, but she does know everything and anything healthy , healing , relaxing and stressful. All the symptoms, sicknesses, medicines, massages, you name it . When it comes down to treatment it really only boils down to : if she has ingredients/ proper tools and ; if she has time for it / how urgent it is .

The whole memory thing is a bit suspicious tho... Just sayin .

But you try to go against a sadistic , cold , 6'1 woman with super strength and a comicly large chainsaw . I dare you .

I think journalism, reading and high maintenance self care is what keeps her sane .

She is definitely always ready and in full glam . Her hair is always perfectly blow-dryed / curled / tied , her skins(?) are always soft and smooth , she smells well 24/7 .... I think that she is very selective with who (and how) she treats , which leaves her with a lot of time for self care and cleaning.

She has a really specific way of doing things . She always takes her jewelry off , ties her hair up , puts a mask on , wears her apron and then her gloves . She never changed that routine , she can do it within minutes . With that said she has a scalper (scalpel??) collection , a first aid kit , bandages , pain killers and numbing medicine all in their respective bundles / baggies ; within her apron . She also has a small pocket used only for her 3 hair ties . No one is sure why she is the way she is .

I mean even her leg problems, just take your shoes off and perform some ancient ritual woman !!

[riathedreamer]

So. “Birds of a Feather”. Been 1.5 year and I don’t think I will be returning. Even if I did, it’d probably just be for a chapter or a few, and that would still leave it mostly unfinished. I mean, never say never, but well.

For those who wants to know what you were gonna get, feel free to read the post below:

First of all: content warning for mentions of self-harm.

I guess the quick story is this: I am disabled and I have a history of self-harm, and both of these elements played a big role when planning this fic. A lot of the reason why it felt good writing it, it was somewhat of a journey for me myself.

What’s going on with Simmons’ wings? I mean, that’s where I left the fic. Basically, Simmons has been overgrooming himself out of anxiety. Basically, and this is sorta mentioned in the fic already, he comes from a family who cares too much about the presentation of their wings, and as the fandom has decided, his dad is a dick. So there’s always been a pressure to keep them *perfect* but with Simmons’ anxious tendencies, that spiraled. It’s been a problem for a while, but when Grif got mites, it triggered the bad habit to the point where Simmons is just. Pulling out feathers. Too many.

What Grif walked in on was basically the somewhat mangled wings. Simmons has managed to keep it hidden since his wings are slim and he has kept them closed when in their presence. It’s reached a point where Simmons has big problems flying – that’s why he’s denied the races with Grif (before their friendship went to shit).

From here, there was going to be an arc of Grif being in that weird “we-don’t-like-each-other-but-I-want-to-help”-phase they are all suffering from in Blood Gulch, and Simmons gets a bit better, though healing, mentally and physically here, takes a lot of time.

Then comes the tank accident.

Sticking to canon, Grif gets Simmons’ parts. Simmons has a hard time explaining why, and he would not present all of these arguments to Grif, but here we go. First of all – organs, no trouble, Grif needs them to survive, Simmons will turn cyborg for that, canon explanation. The wings – well, one, singularis. Grif has one fucked up, cannot be saved wing, and one that’s fine. No one feels comfortable removing his healthy wing while Grif is unconscious. You don’t take someone’s wing when they can’t agree. It’s a weird, unspoken thing, but it’s part of the why the solution is not to take the healthy wing and turn fully cyborg.

So, instead, Simmons takes the cyborg card. A, because canon feels. B, his wings are still very fucked up, and he wants to fly again, and he does not have the patience for the healing process (yep, that’s gonna turn into a metaphor for the mental health), and c) he’s reached a point where he wants to cut of his ties to his family, and, well, the cut goes to the wings here. Becoming a cyborg is to him, and improvement. And that means getting rid of his shitty wings – then why not use the one change to give Grif one of his shitty wings. Maybe it won’t work, maybe it will. But Grif is more fucked with only one wing.

Sarge is Sarge. No trying to reason with that.

So we have Simmons getting to fly again, though it takes a while to learn to fly with metal wings. Grif … tries? But the wing he received from Simmons is a problem. A, because it still has to heal from the damage Simmons did (Simmons likes to tell himself that Grif is more patient than him, that it will heal with him), but also because it’s simply a mismatch. It’s too tall, so he ends up dragging it across the ground a lot, and it’s not as large as his own wing. Basically, Red Team is down two flying soldiers while they try to figure their shit out.

Donut and Grif sorta bond when the soldier helps him deal with the mangled feathers. Simmons has a whole arc where he is scared of testing his metal wings because his brain keeps haunting him with the idea that the metal wings won’t carry him and that means he made the most stupid choice in the world and he’ll never fly again.

And s8 would wrap that arc up with Simmons truly flying for the first time to save Grif as Sidewinder, and Grif’s healing process coming to bad halt when Meta grabbed and pulled his wing in a bad way when they went over the edge.

Simmons gets better. Grif doesn’t really. He heals, yeah, but the wing still doesn’t suit him. And he looks weird as hell too. But so does the rest of his body, and Grif tells everyone he doesn’t care. Does he miss flying like he could before? Yeah. A lot. But that’s not something he can blame on Simmons’ stupid wing (he keeps stroking Simmons’ feathers, taking care of them more than his own wings, for stupid reasons he won’t admit).

So that is the key event for everything that comes after which is mainly to follow the main plot but with *wings* and these issues.

It would have a lot of scenes with Grif bonding with soldiers on Chorus who got their wings fucked up in the war.

And, you know, plenty of angst scenes. Which would include Felix messing with Simmons’ wings, and a scene of Grif falling but Simmons catching him just in time because that would need to happen am I right.

Anyway, this all sounds so melodramatic and sweet and angst, and it sure is, just remember the ton and ton of snark and funny banter and weirdness that can only belong in RvB.

[brokenpaladin]

10, 20, and 38! (I rolled a dice so I have no idea which ones these are 👀)

And A for the creator ask!

Oh boy, a fun selection!! This'll be long, hopefully I can put a read more here via mobile. Also, I'm gonna answer the creator one first,

A) Why are you excited about this character?

*drags over a chair* WELL I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED. Though I guess an easier question would be what am I not excited about over Talis. I love him!! He's my boy!! He'll second-guess himself into the ground over something as simple as small talk, and he'll commit physical violence to protect a frightened stranger. He's convinced he's a terrible, foreboding presence and he gives off the biggest kicked puppy energy ever

He's seven feet tall and tries to stand as small as he can. He knits and mends to calm himself. If he stares at the sky too long he'll cry. He'll swear on his life to help someone get somewhere safely and he fully means it. He can't spend more than a few weeks traveling with someone before he's convinced he needs to leave for their own safety.

He once became a crux-point person in the change of power in an entire city, was nearly executed in another's place, and I'm not sure he realizes it. He befriended an injured owlbear. He's functionally homeless. He's absurdly powerful for a random forest stray living outside a town in the middle of nowhere, and he still will hire himself out as a day laborer in exchange for a meal

More seriously, he's become a very near and dear representation of an archetype I've always felt drawn to but never really sat down to extrapolate or write with abandon-- the self-sacrificing hero. The one who will put himself in danger to protect others. And specifically, the toll that takes, time and again, throwing yourself between another and cruelty you can't stop. The way it warps your thoughts and your view of yourself

And hopefully also how you learn to redirect that protective instinct into a healthy direction, how to grow and heal and value yourself again >:T But we're working on that bit

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

I mean, tbh, everything haunts him-- he lets nothing go :') But the lie he tells most frequently, and actively, is probably about his own state or well-being. The simple regular ones, "I'm fine" and "it's nothing", the ones you tell to keep going. He doesn't think much of it, actually. He's sturdy and has survived worse, so to fuss over a bout of fear or a single wound feels painfully pointless

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Oof….. um, that would be a tricky one for our paladin lad. For you see, he's aromantic! He's never really felt a draw towards any particularly romantic relationship? But he's always been an affectionate, friendly lad, even as a kid, so growing up it was a little tricky to navigate-- he and his mom had many a long talk about how it felt weird when people made a big deal about holding hands, or how sometimes the way someone insinuated around him spending time with a friend felt uncomfortable. But she listened to his anxious talking over it, and helped him figure out that while he was fond of folk, he didn't feel drawn to them in a coupling sort of way-- just general affection or physical attraction, though he always got embarrassed to bring that up (I mean he was an absolute goob as a kid)

Now though, you're mostly just going to get a momentarily puzzled look and a shrug. He's not so talkative, these days

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

Consciously, none. Or, he tries not to think on anything that has been, but he finds his memories of living in Neverwinter intruding most frequently when he's awake. For good or for ill, that was his safest and best home when he returned to the surface. He'll push those memories away as often as he can, because he doesn't think he has any right to miss his home there. He left voluntarily, after all. They would have kept him and looked after him forever, if he let them…

[dzpenumbra]

6/8/23

Today was weird. I had that doctor's visit. It wasn't that bad, I got a decent amount of sleep, I even woke up half an hour before my alarm and got a shower in. But I did leave and forget to bring a mask, I usually use a bandana. Besides dinner with my brother and his family, the doctor's office was the last place I had gone to, I think. Actually, I went to the pharmacy that one time... What I'm saying is, I don't go out much... so that habit of having the bandana around my neck kinda didn't occur to me. Luckily, for my sake, they loosened the restrictions around that.

But I felt awkward as hell without one. I mean, of all people... I'm someone they can count on to not be carrying the virus. You know, because I never leave my house. But it does make me more vulnerable. But yeah, no one really seemed to care.

My appointment was just a physical. It wasn't that bad. My pulse and blood pressure were elevated again, and they did a cholesterol test and apparently some of those levels were elevated too. It's a bit spooky and I want to take it seriously. It was a good launch point to talk about how... I've been putting on weight for the first time in my life and... I don't really know much about nutrition. Like... barely anything at all, really. So... I don't even really know what things to cut out of my diet to make it more healthy. Like... I just made this big batch of spinach artichoke pasta. Is that good for me? Or bad for me? I don't fucking know.

They gave me a pamphlet with some local nutritionists. Like I can afford that. But hey, at least now I have something specific to look for when I search for dietary recommendations, instead of "healthy diet".

Honestly, I don't even eat that unhealthy. I cook every meal. I try my best to keep fruit and vegetables in stock; despite it being very difficult and expensive nowadays. The only meat I eat is chicken, and eggs sometimes, if you count that. The only real thing I can see is that I eat a lot of cheese... and the new ice cream habit.

I mentioned that my primary focus has been mental health. He offered meds again... and I really struggled with the conversation. I was very transparent, expressed the bad experiences I had in the past, my concerns about dependency and shit. My concern about the simple act of walking to the pharmacy being a trigger... He left the door open for it, and I told him I'd discuss it further with my therapist. And what I didn't mention? I think meds are going to be prohibitively expensive. And that just is what it is.

I briefly went over my sleep schedule, he... didn't seem very fazed by it. I mean, I don't imagine he encounters many people who say "I go to sleep at dawn and I have been consistently for many years." But I appreciate him not being judgmental about it. He didn't really seem to have many concerns about that.

All-in-all... it seems like the big bad wolf in my life is mental health. It's a barrier that gets between me and meeting new people - which is a key to a life outside of my house. It's a barrier between me and living a public life without other people by my side, because I often don't feel safe alone.

Like... even today. My walk to the doctor's office was like... 3 blocks? Really not bad. On the way up, I passed some people working at an Asian market who were unloading a truck and I got anxious and didn't feel safe. And coming back, there were two guys across the street pushing an overfilled shopping cart down the sidewalk and I got anxious and didn't feel safe. Being alone, that shit gets me. With others, much less so.

The problem with working through mental health stuff is... as my doctor said... it's an "incredibly slow process". So I get caught in this tug of war. On one side, it's me doing huge amounts of work on self-awareness and working on self-esteem, and keeping myself grounded and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone but not too far... and that takes time, so I have to pace myself. And the pacing, takes place in isolation. That brings us to the other side, pushing against me - isolation. The longer I am away from social situations, the harder it is to get myself out the door. The more my imagination plays up all the spooky shit. And that takes place at a level that is like... just below the surface of conscious thought, so close to conscious thought that it feels like conscious thought. But it's not. It's instinct, reflex.

Like... okay, I don't know if that makes sense, let me try to use an example to make it make sense. So... say I want to take my trash out to the trash room. And say it's a bad anxiety day for me. I get a strong push that feels like something bad is going to happen. And its quality feels like it's something likely, something reliable. It feels like I've had a bad experience taking the bag to the trash room before. I have not fucking once had a bad experience taking the trash to the trash room. In fact, I think I've only one time had anything even remotely close to a bad experience happen in this building, and it was when I was coming back from doing laundry and accidentally and awkwardly opened the door by the stairwell right in front of a woman who was moving a giant box, and she screamed and it scared the shit out of me. And it was just awkward. It wasn't even bad. It was just... "oh shit, I'm sorry" and move along. I don't even have an emotional response to it when I relive it. So... if I've never had any negative experiences taking the trash to the trash room... why does it feel like something bad is going to happen?

My fear is leaking. My feeling of being vulnerable or unsafe is not working properly, it's overactive.

I'm glad to be able to identify it, and have this kind of presence of mind, and all that. But like... what the fuck do I do about it?

The worst part... and I've probably said this hundreds of times in these journals... and millions of times out loud... The worst part is that this fear and feeling of being unsafe is hugely diminished if I'm around just one other person. My pre-existing disposition to be overly fearful and feel unsafe (on both sides of my family, both genetically and habitually)... the isolation is like rocket fuel for it. And I'm so fucking proud of myself every day for how well I've been able to function given the circumstances. But goddamn is it frustrating and hurtful to see how frivolously people in my life have burned even casual acquaintanceship with me to the ground, over such petty shit. Especially knowing how massively impactful and beneficial such a minimal contribution to my life would be. Like... just having someone to go on walks with once or twice a week is such an insanely massive contribution to my life; like... it could literally change my entire life. Because it keeps me comfortable interacting with others. It keeps my "tolerance" up, I stay comfortable with it, which makes doing social things myself (like the farmer's market in town) not as big of a shock to the system.

I guess I'm just venting now. I just... I'm frustrated. And I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I need to... be more targeted and proactive about finding a social group.

Good lord, okay, I need to just baby step a bit more. Today, I was chatting in Twitch chat with a streamer I had never really watched before... and he was actually directly responding to some chat I was writing... and it had been so long since that had happened that... it actually started freaking me out a bit... So... I think what I need to do is find a nice multiplayer game. Any game, really. I was tempted to get Diablo 4, since I have played every single Diablo game since... probably a few months after Diablo 1 came out. But... okay, I don't know how I feel about playing multiplayer on that with someone else... though I may be hugely overthinking it. Okay, here's the big underlying thing. I was really into Diablo 3: RoS when I met my ex. Like... really into it, learning endgame shit and farming sets and all that. And... I got my ex into it, and we played a lot.

Man... I wasn't really expecting to tell this story any time soon. What happened was... after I broke up with my ex (let me preface this by saying it was an incredibly toxic relationship and I was super brave for breaking up with her) we agreed we wanted to try to stay friends. And within a week and a half, she was "dating" a guy who worked the front desk of the hotel I got her a job at. And... that hurt. A lot. After 3 fucking years. But honestly? What hurt me way more? And this may sound stupid and it may be more of a coping mechanism to blunt the pain than an actual reason, but I still feel it very strong. She started playing Diablo with him. He noticed her Starcraft shirt that I bought for her for her birthday, that I introduced her to, that we used to play together. She played fucking mobile games before she met me. And Diablo was really our thing, our first thing. And she ditched me to go play with this guy. Throwing away the romance, the physical, and the friendship - absolutely nothing was sacred, nothing of "ours" remained. And it cut really, really deep; for a sentimental person like me. Again, maybe it sounds stupid to others... but like... when that's your thing... it really fucking hurts to be... that easily replaceable.

So... Diablo comes with strings for me. I haven't played it since then. It just... yeah. So I don't know. But hey. It's been 5 fucking years. If I'm ready to date again, I should be able to go down that road.

An alternative idea I had was trying to find a Space Engineers RP server. I have no idea if anyone does actual RP in Space Engineers, but I can imagine some cool scenarios unfolding.

I just need something where I am interacting with others, more than a Twitch chat. The more regularly I do that, the easier the daily maintenance will be, the isolation upkeep. Which starts the snowball in a positive direction, rather than a negative one.

Ugh, I'm tired. I'm gonna do tarot and head to bed.

Past - VI: The Lovers, inverted (Soul-felt connection. Vulnerability, sharing your true selves.) Present - Five of Wands, inverted (Competition, disagreement, strife, and the accompanying need to step up to the challenge, prove yourself and see it through.) Future - XIX: The Sun, inverted (Hope, clarity, confidence.  Success, fulfillment, revelation.)

Oooo boy, three inverted cards again. Yay.

The thread starts with the symbol of The Lovers in chaos. How I immediately react to this is... betrayal. It's me sharing my true self and being rejected, or met with deception, or having my vulnerability used against me.

This leads to... Five of Wands, inverted. Which I am intuiting is about... how I struggle to really meet challenges. How I avoid conflict like the fucking plague, to the point where I often avoid people wholesale. To the point where I write comments or replies or things to type into chat, I proofread them at least 3 times, then I just delete them... rather than risk a potential conflict. This is a big one for me. I absolutely can see my trait of avoiding conflict at all cost being clearly reflected in the inversion of the card that's like... the representation of the impulse to meet competition and see it through.

This leads to... The Sun, inverted. A lack of confidence. A lack of fulfilment. A life lived in the shadows, hiding, avoiding. The Sun is a wonderful card, all about new hope, rediscovering the world through new eyes.

So... put simply... the people who treated me like shit? Who I bared my soul to, who fucked me over and left me to rot? All of them. The wounds that I carry from that manifest with me... wow, this is an interesting thought... very ironically feeling incapable of handling conflict. Isn't that strange? I survive all of those conflicts, with all of those people, and I handle myself better than I have my entire life, worlds better than any of them. And I feel like I can't handle petty conflict with others. Hmm... Well, because I'm just so tired of conflict existing at all. I'm having a lot of really fast moving thoughts on this, I need to rope it back real quick. The result of this avoidance is that I don't live a fulfilling life, my confidence is shot, I'm in isolation and I am constantly afraid. But more than that... this looming fear is preventing me from seeing how wonderful a lot of the world is out there.

Maybe... hmm... Okay, bear with me here... maybe I need to get in more debates? Maybe I need a smurf account where I post shit and don't give a fuck... conversationally. Hmm... I'll float it by my therapist.

My theory being... people who have martial arts training aren't nearly as afraid of getting mugged in an alley as people who don't. And that's because they specifically trained for that, they practiced. I still don't know why I'm afraid of conflict when I have more goddamn experience with being levelheaded in stupid, childish and brutally low-blow-throwing conflicts than anyone I know. That point got me stuck. I guess it's just like... I'm fucking tired. I'm tired of it. I paid my dues and I just don't want to... I don't want to suffer more loss, I guess. That's probably it. Even if that loss is just the loss of a potential friend. It seems stupid, I guess... but it makes sense instinctually... that it's better to avoid than to lose another friend. Which is like... the polar opposite of "it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all".

I have a lot of reflecting to do on this. But for now? Bedtime.

[sucktacular]

Anyway I have my first therapy appt on Wednesday and I'm super nervous ... I know it's just intake before really getting into it all but like

Hhhh

I was doing so really really bad for months and months, like... Just not good at all without getting into it. It's been slowly getting worse and better and worse and better for the past few years since covid and everything changed

But like now this past week I've been doing a lot less terrible and I'm very anxious about like

Huhuhu I'm okay now I don't need this huhuhu I'm just wasting money and time I'll try again later :)))

When like I still have agoraphobia, I still don't function I'm still anxious to be around my house when ppl are home, I'm still not eating well, I'm still not right

I'm just

Really really anxious that I'll open something up in me and this good mood will slip away again

And I know this therapist has talked about like hey I recognize there are different levels of discomfort and I will guide us carefully and thoughtfully and if we get to an overly discomforting place I'll guide us back

But like I've also been to two different counselors (ah yes I know, I have so much experience!) and each time they made me either cry and riped open my wounds or I just got to the point where she was kinda putting words in my head and I felt so confused I just wanted to leave as fast as possible and then hung out in the secluded back waiting room trying to calm down by myself before leaving...

Idk I'm so very anxious of getting tripped up and falling back

But also like I know I need to deal with it all if I want to get anywhere better than I am. Where I am isn't sustainable, it's just a safe little hole in the ground I've dug out.

Idk it's times like these I feel like a huge faker. Like I don't actually have PTSD I don't actually have depression I'm just weird and anxious and like to lie and pretend I have problems!!! "My problems aren't that bad and it's weird that I am the way I am, dunno what that's about lol :))"

No matter how bad I feel no matter what, at the end of the day I look back and say, what a great act what a great show you preformed, bow and get off the stage!

I've been acting my whole life and these aren't traumas they're just things I latch onto and make it a defining character trait for my persona so that when ppl ask me why I'm anxious why I'm weird I can be like" oh here is my resume actually and here is every upsetting thing that ever happened to me. I'm valid I'm valid :) agreed? It makes sense yes? I'm glad my math makes sense to the masses :)"

And like the worst part is feeling that so deeply and then actively knowing, hey this is so very wrong and people don't think like this when they're healthy so I clearly have problems to work out so this isn't "not worth it" or "not the right time"

But it's just a vicious cycle of spiraling and picking thoughts and reasons and experiences and nonsense and at the end of it all the bad feelings are always stronger they always win.

I'll be honest but the diagnosises I've been given don't feel enough? And I'm sure I'm not the first person to feel like that and I know dealing with the things and symptoms like trauma and anxiety without having to name them clinically should probably be my focus but I feel so annoyed that if I said to someone 'hey my names Alex and I have PTSD and anxiety and dysthymia and adhd' it just doesn't feel like it is me enough... But also that's.. really embarrassing to say and cringe in the worst ways

Maybe it's part of the fucked up 'wanting worse things to happen to you' trauma parallels of wanting a bigger badder diagnosis so that I can be like THIS MAKES SENSE THIS IS WHAT I DEAL WITH when like I'm sure the labels I have, combined and intertwined, add up and make the math of my brain make sense but

Man it just doesn't add up it just doesn't make enough sense to me, maybe for the interview portion of my evaluation I was masked up too much maybe I didn't explain my thoughts and feelings enough or maybe it's real and they're the right labels and I'm just looking for a problem to obsess about

I can go in circles and circles about it all but I just don't feel right and I feel shifted and out of place in my skin and it feels eternal and never ending

Like being lost in a corn maze or something idk I've never been in one but it sounds like it'd suck

Can I just restart? Can I get a restart of my brain cuz I feel like tripping over my feet over and over and never falling down but never waking right

Feel well enough to be alive but scrunched up and icky enough that it's not functional

So anyway I'm very good at being normal and not weird all the time and I hope I get a good grade on being a person

[huggingtentacles]

Alright!! So. Lucid dreaming. I've been introduced to the concept a few years ago. For those who don't know, lucid dreaming is when you become aware of the fact that you're dreaming, but you don't wake up. It's a pretty neat brain trick which allows you to control your dreams. It's pretty fun. This thing is less of a skill, and more of a habit to me. People do a bunch of different methods to start lucid dreaming (but some are just luckier than others with the way their brain works).

This is not an exact science, I'm just telling you how I do this. There are some conditions for this, some you can control, some you don't.

First and foremost, you need to be less stressed throughout the day. I know it's kinda outside of our control most of the time, but if you happen to he less anxious during a certain day, you can try lucid dreaming. The reason why you need to be less stressed is because of the brain lag that happens when you're falling asleep while being aware of it. Your brain kinda gives you a little shock and snaps you back. This happens because of stress.

Note that when I say stress, I mean not only fear or anxiety. I mean all kinds of stress, even if it's happy stress. If your life is particularly exciting, lucid dreaming is pretty difficult. You need a calm day. Being fed and hydrated also helps.

Another thing is that your sleep schedule has to be relatively consistent. The amount of sleep and when you're going to sleep doesn't matter, what matters is that you're doing it roughly at the same time every day.

I wanna repeat that it's what I figured out myself, and other people on the internet can give you better guides. I am not sure if it's efficient, correct or even healthy. Do this at your own discretion.

Alright, now the method. What you wanna do is wake up during a certain stage of your sleep, for me it comes roughly 1.5-2 hours before waking up. You set an early alarm and go to sleep.

When the alarm goes off, you will be in this half-sleeping state. The one where your bed feels like the best place in the world and you wanna fall back to sleep again. What you wanna do is, in this state, you get out of bed and do something. Go to the bathroom, drink some water, but nothing too difficult or exciting, you don't wanna wake up completely. You need to maintain this half-sleeping state, but also wake up your mind a little bit so you don't just fall back to normal sleep again.

After that (don't spend more than 1-2 minutes doing what you're doing, also being warm helps) you go back to bed. Now you're conscious, but not fully awake. Now you close your eyes and relax your body. Your face it probably tense, your eyebrows, your tongue, your jaw. Then your shoulders. Relax everything, but stay aware. You will feel like your body goes back to sleep without your brain. I want to add that your body can try to snap you awake during this stage, even if you're meeting the conditions. You may feel a little shock or feel like you're falling for a second. It's fine for a first time, you can just try again. Just don't move or tense up your muscles. If you snap awake, take a deep breath and proceed. You're not really *doing* anything, you're just waiting for your body to fall asleep with your consciousness intact. This feeling is specific and unmissable, and when it starts, you start imagining things. Don't imagine nothing too crazy, just some kind of environment.

If it's outside, imagine the grass/pavement you're touching, the sounds you're hearing. If it's a room, try to imagine what being in this room feels like. This place is kinda your hub area, if you imagine the same place every time, it forms a habit. I'll explain what works for me, it's kind of embarrassing but whatever.

I imagine an empty room, with a bed and me on it. I imagine the blanket, the pillow, but what really grounds me in the dream is imagining someone else in the bed with me. Please hear me out it's not weird stfu. I imagine hugging a person. It doesn't have to be anyone specific, I usually don't even give them a face, I just imagine the sensations related to hugging someone. Their warmth, the texture and feel of their skin, their heartbeat, the smell. I do it because it works and not for any other reason!!!

After that I'm already lucid dreaming. The place feels really fuckin real and really weird at the same time. I get out of my dream bed and walk around a little. It's important to not let the lucidity slip, but also not to startle yourself into waking up. Let your movements be fluid and calm. Btw since you're in a dream, the gravity works as much as you need it to be. Float around a little bit if you want. Get comfortable is what I'm saying.

After you feel completely submerged into the dream, you can get out of your "hub" area and do whatever. Your dreams are up to you now. You have a couple hours like this, but honestly the concept of time doesn't really work there, your brain doesn't register it.

There are a couple "hub" areas and things people focus on to ground themselves into their dream. Some people imagine a tunnel, some imagine themselves underwater (you don't need air in a dream) some imagine a room they're familiar with, fictional or otherwise.

So yeah that's it that's my experience with lucid dreaming. I'm probably doing it wrong but it works.

[whoneedssexed]

Hello, I just need som advice.

I've been with my bf for 6 yrs now and I've lately been getting irritated or just tired of dealing with him... such as him wanting to be at my home alot such as our routine is staying in and watch TV and eating and while this is nice, I have more of a wild side and want to go out and he gives me a bit of attitude and hesitancy but is willing at times. He asks me to do thing he doesn't do to me such as sweet talk ? And it bothers me bc I have asked him to do better with that as my love language is words of affirmation, he "tried" but hardly . And lately he will cancel plans or make a big deal out of small fights like we could be arguing and I tell him my perspective and he'll cancel plans which throws me off bc we don't really argue alot and usually still act mature to continue with your plans . Even with sex, its a constant effort to ask him, I understand not eveyone has the same sex drive but when I bring it up he just say I'm fine but I always do it for you and when I express that it doesn't really make me feel good bc it feel like im pressuring him that I need him to atleast try to initiate it he just doesn't and says he'll "try " which never happens. A week ago he was sick so I didnt see him for a whole week and that was probably the first time I didn't feel anxious or upset that I wasn't gonna see him, I felt really okay and I made plans with my friends and just did things on my own which wasn't as hard as it used to be. I took a yr to be truly alone as I was going thru some friendship problems, and I think now I'm really okay with being alone which is weird and I think its making me second guess my relationship bc I used to believe you have to be somewhat obsessed with your partner and obiv now I know thats not normal but I also feel like I lost this connection I have with my bf bc I get more irritated if we constantly have the same plans or routines. And I guess I'm just tired of asking for better ? I do love him and I know he's a really great guy, he's my best friend but now im not sure if this relationship is still giving me what I need. im not sure if I'm over reacting or reading to much into it..im happy that we can both be independent together but I also am feeling a off bc what if this means our relationship is fizzling out . Also how do you talk to someone who doesn't really know how to communicate their feelings or not take everything like an attack..pls if any advice about long term relationships and healthy attachment styles would be appreciated,

It sounds like you might be getting tired of each other, or even simply not a good fit. Both of these are normal and not everything always works out.

He doesn't want to go out any more, and "gives you attitude" if you insist on it. He has stopped reciprocating your love language. And he seems to find little reasons to cancel things and dwells on fights. This sounds like he's just as irritated as you are.

I do want to note a few things, though:

1) If you understand everyone has different sex drives, why ARE you pestering him about his?

If he's not interested and doesn't want to, then you need to drop it. If you can't handle that he "doesn't rise to the challenge", then that may be a sign you guys aren't a good fit - sometimes, majorly differing drives can't be overcome, and that's normal.

However, if he's saying he's okay with doing it if you want to, but isn't strongly for or against it, that's also just how some people are. Some people just don't initiate, too; a lot of people aren't "up for it" until someone else brings it up. It doesn't mean they feel pressured or hate it. Again, if that's not something you like, and he isn't budging in making a common ground in this point, then you guys might not work out.

2) It's very normal to work independently of each other. In fact, it's even healthier to do that. Hanging on each other can wear on the nerves a lot, which both of you might be feeling. That is, you're suffocating under each other, which makes you both snappy and irrational.

All that aside, if you're needing him to do things he just can't, or won't, do, it's… probably time to end it. Which I know is not what you want to hear. But, it's worth looking into whether it's a matter of you guys just needing more space and independence with each other so you're not smashed together all the time.

Regardless, here are some resources that you have asked for and those related:

21 Bits of Relationship Advice From People In Long-Lasting Relationships

12 Tips for Healthy, Long-Lasting Relationships

6 Tips for Maintaining a Healthy Long-Term Relationship

7 Secrets to a Healthy, Long-Lasting Relationship

7 Golden Rules of Long-Term Relationships, From Couples of Nearly Four Decades

25 Relationship Tips for a Long, Lasting Love

6 Tips to Keep Long-Term Relationships Exciting

20 Keys to a Successful Long Term Relationship?

Scarleteen also has a section for articles and advice about relationships, and Planned Parenthood also has a few answers on their relationships section.

How Attachment Styles Affect Adult Relationships

Secure attachment style in relationships explained

Secure Attachment - from Childhood to Adult Relationships

If You Want a Happy Relationship, These Are the Qualities to Look For

The Different Types of Attachment Styles

How to develop a secure attachment style so that you can have healthier, more loving relationships

What is Secure Attachment and How Does it Develop?

What Types of Attachment are Healthy and Unhealthy?

What is Secure Attachment?

Secure Attachment: What Does it Look and Feel Like in Relationships?

Attachment Styles & Their Role in Relationships

Creating a Secure Attachment With Your Partner

Which of These Four Attachment Styles is Yours?

How Adult Relationships Benefit from Secure Attachment

10 Signs of a Securely Attached Partner

-Mod BP

[up-to-some-good]

Rings

When James first made friends with the other marauders, he made sure to take note of their anxious habits. Remus clicked his knuckles and chewed his lips, but he could be calmed with a piece of chocolate and a hug. Peter ate when he was stressed, but all it took was a distraction in the form of a game or competition to calm him down. Sirius picked his skin, mostly around his fingertips and nails, often until he bled. The problem with Sirius is he didn’t seem to stop for anything – and he did it often enough that his fingers were covered in bandages for weeks at a time.

In third year, James finally figured out how to solve the problem: Sirius needed something to fidget with. For Christmas that year, he bought him a bunch of rings, all silver and clunky, to wear and play with. It worked. Soon it was a tradition, every year for Christmas, Sirius would get a new ring or two from James. He had never bought himself a ring, and no one else bought them for him either.

Which is why it was weird when James didn’t recognise one of the rings Sirius was wearing. They were having their weekly Padfoot and Prongs time while Lily and Remus took Harry to the zoo. It had become a staple since the war had ended and Sirius had quit the Aurors, a way of preserving their relationship and giving their respective partners some time off.

“New ring?” James asked conversationally.

Sirius looked up from his cards and back down at his hands.

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “I got it to match Moony’s.”

James played his turn and looked back at Sirius curiously.

“Moony doesn’t wear rings.”

“He wears one.”

James took a moment, staring at the silver band with an engraved moon – on Sirius’s left hand.

“Are you two engaged?!” he yelled.

“Have been for six weeks, but thanks for noticing.”

Within a second James had tackled Sirius to the ground, pinning his arms as Sirius began to laugh. He was in tears by the time James released him and sat back with a huff.

“You absolute prick, why didn’t you tell me?”

Sirius sat up and wiped his eyes.

“I bet Moony that you wouldn’t notice for at least a month, even if we wore the damn rings,” he said calmly.

“Rude.”

Sirius stared at James imploringly, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“Was I wrong?”

James folded his arms and huffed, looking astonishingly like Harry for a moment.

“No.”

Sirius moved over and pulled him into a hug.

“Don’t be a grump, Prongs,” he said. “We love you even if you’re as observant as a brick wall.”

“Love you too,” he murmured into his friend’s shoulder. “Can I have the full story now?”

“Of course.”

Six weeks earlier

Sirius was getting more and more anxious as time went on. He had knocked rings off his fingers at least four times with his rapid fidgeting.

Remus hadn’t come home yet. He was an hour late. The war was over, somewhere in the back of Sirius’s mind he acknowledged that, but the anxiety was an instinct at this point.

That, and the box in his jacket pocket, had sent him into an anxious spiral, unable to do anything except watch the door.

He stood up when the door opened and Remus appeared, drenched. He ran over and pulled him into a hug.

“I was so worried,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus responded. “The rain took out the power at the library and the Floo was jammed so I couldn’t let you know I was running late.”

Remus had never judged him for his anxiety. He never laughed or mocked Sirius for worrying when it got late, even though the war was over, and they were safe now. He knew the wounds ran deep, especially after Peter’s betrayal.

“You’re soaking,” Sirius murmured as he pulled back.

It was raining hard outside, but Remus usually apparated to avoid the rain if needed.

“I walked Margaret home because it was getting dark,” he explained.

Margaret, Remus’s boss, was the sweetest old woman Sirius had ever met, a stark contrast to Pince at Hogwarts. She was a muggle, but had a grandson set to go to Hogwarts soon and understood when Remus couldn’t be at work once a month due to his lycanthropy. She often sent home care packages for them filled with equal amounts of chocolate and healthy snacks. If she had had to walk home alone in the dark during a storm, Sirius too would have been there in a moment to escort her.

Remus kissed Sirius’s forehead lightly and pulled away to cast a drying charm on them both, Sirius wet from their tight embrace.

“I’ll make us some dinner, love,” he said, moving to the kitchen.

While they ate, Remus held Sirius’s right hand, leaving his dominant hand available for picking up spoons of soup while reminding him that he was there. He told a few anecdotes from his day at the library, letting Sirius be silent as he calmed down. With every small gesture, the box Sirius was hiding seemed to grow heavier, bigger in his mind, until the conversation lulled, and he broke.

“Moony, will you marry me?”

Remus froze with his soup spoon halfway to his mouth. He set the spoon down carefully and looked at Sirius carefully.

“What?”

Sirius got up and walked over to his leather jacket to pull out the box. He got down on one knee on their kitchen tiles and opened the box, revealing two silver rings – one engraved with a crescent moon, the other with a star.

“I don’t have a big speech or a bunch of flowers or anything James-like, really,” he started. “But I love you, so goddamn much. I wanted to do this on our anniversary, or Valentines, or literally any other special day that would mean something more, but sitting here with you, I can’t help but remember every reason I love you, and I can’t wait anymore. Remus John Lupin, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Remus whispered, pulling Sirius up and on to his lap. “Of course.”

He kissed every inch Sirius’s face before they exchanged the rings. He let out a tearful laugh as he looked down at his hand.

“I love you too, Pads,” he whispered. “So goddamn much.”

[sirisuorionblack]

James the mother hen

James Potter x Hufflepuff!Reader

Requested - dude hi!! could you maybe do james potter x hufflepuff reader where the reader plays quidditch and gets hurt during a gryffindor v hufflepuff game and he feels really guilty about it and is really overbearing because he wants to help her feel better? or maybe just a sick day fic where james is helping her lol i’m just a sucker for mom friend worried james. thank you!!

Warning - Minor injuries

Authors Note - This is my first time writing in second POV so, sorry if its not great. Hope you like @riddikulusweasleys! 

“Hey, prongs, look who is coming,” Sirius dragged his syllables at the last word, looking at his best mate with a wide smirk on his face. 

James looked up from his single piece of toast - healthy breakfast before quidditch, he said when the rest three of them gawked at him - to Sirius, who was wiggling his eyebrows then across the great hall to spot you in your mustard quidditch robes, grinning as you walked toward him. 

Remus chuckled at his best friend whose hand immediately flew to his hair, making them even messier and adjusting his glasses, “Your drooling, mate,” 

“Well, I have every right to drool seeing she is my girlfriend,” James said cheekily, his focus slightly faltering from you towards his best friends rolling their eyes. 

“Hello, Mr Potter,” you greeted him, smirking.

“Hello, Ms (L/N),” he said, chuckling. 

“You two are weird,” Sirius muttered, looking between the two of you in disgust although his eyes held a shine.

“You're just jealous, pads,” Peter mumbled. 

“Hey!” Sirius glared at him and soon engaged in a nasty conversation that may or may not have cost the pumpkin juice. 

“You ready for the match?” you asked James, raising your eyebrows and smirking slightly.

James’ stomach suddenly churned anxiously. Now the matter is - he loved quidditch, he loved it more than anything but it was particularly hard for him to play against Hufflepuff ever since you became the captain of the quidditch team a year ago. You had always been a part of the reason why James loved quidditch, your moves and flexes made him much more drawn to you -smitten as Sirius would say- and one of the multiple reasons he finally mustered the courage to ask you out the start of the term.

You knew it, you knew how James felt playing against you, it was rather tough to play against...loved ones? Never have either of you actually muttered those three words to the other.

“Yeah,” James said, his voice cracking in between. 

You smiled softly, and winked, “Your gonna rock it,”

 The two of you after the conversation in the great hall only met at the quidditch pitch. 

“Shake your hands,” Madam Hooch said, motioning you and James to do so.

 A smile on both of your faces as your handshake was more than friendly compared to any other handshakes on the field. 

 The Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor teams were high up in the air, clenching the broom handles, waiting for the quaffle to release because this, after all, would determine the quidditch cup for the year.

Madam Hooch’s whistle echoed through the air as the quaffle was thrown to the players. The whistles and hollers of the crowd were so much that it almost made the players anxious. 

 “The Gryffindor captain first caught the quaffle. You're doing great Jamie boy!” The commentary was given by, of course, Sirius. He was appointed as the temporary commentator after the previous one had a major injury after very strict instructions given by Professor McGonagall. 

“Mr Black,” McGonagall warned. 

“Alright, alright. Minnie is getting mad,” he quickly added, “Oh, look at that. (L/N) has the quaffle, she is flying to the goal. Now, come on, let your boyfriend win, will you?”

You flipped him off with one hand as you flew through the forthcoming Gryffindor team players, diving and serving. 

“Woah! Hufflepuff scores one goal!” Sirius glanced at the parchment before him, “1-0, Hufflepuff to Gryffindor, very bad performance lions, I expected more,” he shook his head as though in pity.

“Mr Black, you're demotivating the players!” McGonagall warned.

“Sorry, Minnie,” Sirius apologized, not so apologetically, “Now, the quaffle is back with the Gryffindor chaser! Yay!”

You dashed to the chaser, circling around them and with one calculated, gentle push the waffle was back to your hands.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman can we give a big round of applause to my best friend’s one day, to be wife,” Sirius asked looking at the crowd expectantly and for his satisfaction, the crowd roared. 

Both James and you came to a halt on your brooms, a dark pink blush on your faces as the crowd roared even louder. But someone in the Gryffindor team had realised it was the best time to knock the quaffle out of your hold.

It was a great idea, you must give that to the red flash that passed by you but the way execution was worst. As the player swished past you, there was a harsh gush of wind and the player missed and had hit you on your elbow evidently knocking you out of your broom. Holding on the broom with one hand you dangled off it, trying to climb back on. 

As though it all were perfectly timed, a loose bulger was aimed at you by Merlin-knows-who and you lost the only balance you had that held you in the air.

The air around you felt colder as the blank spots danced dangerously before your eyes. Your boyfriend’s terrified face was what you saw last before losing your consciousness. 

 “Mr Potter, please stop fretting,” Madam Pomfrey said to James who paced before your bed nervously in the hospital wing, “Nothing is wrong with her,”

“Except?” He insisted.

“Except her ankle is broken,” She said calmly. 

“Broken!?” 

“Her ankle, Mr Potter!”

“It's still broken!”  

“Potter, if this continues I might ask you to leave the room,”

“When will she wake up?” James asked, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's threat. 

“‘M wake,” You mumbled and coughed. James rushed to your bed with some water. Madam Pomfrey sighed and left James to take care of you. 

“You alright?” James asked, taking your face in his hands and scanning every inch of them for him to admire and memorize your beauty with the reason as “checking for injuries”. 

“Yes, James, calm down,” You chuckled. 

“You scared me, did you know that?” James asked, sighing, "I'm sorry,"

"Why are your sorry?" You asked, placing your hands above his.

"I should have caught you or done something instead of Dumbledore at the final moment doing the spell," he looked down, pulling his hands out of your grip and holding your hands.

"James, you couldn't have done anything and it's okay. I am alright now, look," you pointed to your ankle that was heavily wrapped in gauze. 

You heard through your half consciousness Madam Pomfrey say to James that although Dumbledore had performed the charm to stay you afloat but you had hit the ground and broke your ankle.

James winced, "I'm going to ban whoever did that from the team,"

"James," you warned, "This is a game and that happens,"

He sighed, "I feel guilty, you know." He leaned towards the bedside table, fetching the blue potion Madam Pompfrey instructed him to give. 

“Mhm, figured it out,” you smirked.

“Drink,” James said, seriously and rolled his eyes.

You scrunched your nose in disgust looking at the blue semi-liquid potion, “No, that's-”  

“I don't need to hear it, just drink,” James said, looking at you pointedly. 

“Later?” You knew it wouldn't work but it was worth a try nonetheless.

“No,” he narrowed his eyes, “Come on, love, just gulp it,” 

With your nose still scrunched, you glanced at the potion warily. James sighed, moving closer to you and pressed his lips to yours, “Please,” he mumbled against your lips.

You huffed but obliged. Downing the nasty drink and trying not to distract yourself from the bitter taste, you pulled James once again into a kiss. 

After pulling away, James chuckled and blurted, “I love you,”

Both of your eyes widened in shock. You were the first one to regain your composure and grinned at him, “I love you too,”

“Well, it's about time!” They heard a voice very much like Sirius yell, crashes, grunts and then three people running. 

You chuckled, pulling James closer to you, “You're not gonna walk for another month with that broken ankle of yours,”

And true to his words, James carried a blushing yourself to the classes almost every day, you werent complaining though.

[funkymbtifiction]

6 vs 9

Thank you for answering my question on Ni and worrying!

I have debated on 6 vs. 9 before, but I’m pretty sure I’m a 9.

Not sure if you want an answer or not, but why not? I’ve got time. ;)

I do see 6 aspects in myself:

Lots of self-doubt and over-thinking. I take commissions as an artist and usually I’m excited to hear about a new commission but then get worried and think I won’t be able to do it / won’t do a good enough job. <- if you are a 9, this could just be your line to 6 and general anxiousness about doing a good job per your (I assume) 1 wing.

Being indecisive when anxious and wanting someone to tell me what to do/solve my problem. <- Hmm, I haven’t talked to my 9 core friends about this a lot, but I do notice some of them consult me in a “this is happening!!!” way and I give them suggestions on what to do, so… I’d say 9s will consult people they trust if they don’t know what to do. Also, did you decide on INFP? If so, indecisiveness is Ne.

I tend to plan for the worst/expect the worst (but hope for the best). <- Pessimism is a human condition. xD

I don’t project, though - I do worry that people may not like me, but I don’t test them to find out if that is the case and I always blame myself for it (i.e if they don’t like me it must be because I’m boring or weird or not emotionally reactive enough). <- I used to do this way more when I was young. I’d send an e-mail, get anxious if I didn’t get a normal prompt response, comb back over what I said searching for anything that might have upset them, and feel anxious for no reason assuming someone is mad at me. I would send out little feelers to see what was going on – quick texts or notes in a friendly tone to see if that generated a response. Now I just assume, when that anxiousness kicks in, that as adults, we’re all busy. But self-blaming is a condition of Fi, and not related to Enneagram type, IMO.

Also, I don’t provoke people to examine reactions. In fact I hate conflict (the classic “raised voices = yelling” 9 issue is true for me; in 95% of arguments I’m the peacemaker trying to find middle ground between other people). <- with me, it depends. I have zero problems with conflict at home or arguing with my parents / family members, but the less I know you and the less I trust you, the more I don’t want to fight with you. It’s true, though, that I have that bratty 6w7 energy that sometimes provokes to get a rise out of my loved ones, which my mother (a 1w9) absolutely hates. It’s hard to shut off, but I try for her sake. Course my father is quarrelsome too, so we’re like a tempest in a teapot sometimes.

I also don’t see many positive 6 aspects in myself:

The ability/desire to build connections and make a security system. <- Interesting. My security is my bank account and having a few people I can count on. It’s not stalking up my pantry, for sure. *cough * weak Si, like what kinds of foods even go together? *cough* Though I work very hard in my family business so we can all thrive, which is a security of its own.

Being loyal to friends and checking in with them to make sure we’re “okay” (I never do this barring an actual argument or something - mostly I ghost people; loyalty is not my strong suit!) <- This is very true of me. If anyone picks on any of my friends, I will get offended and fiercely defend them (even if I have criticisms of them myself). And I do like to stay connected as an extrovert. But following up what I said above, I don’t try to build super close connections as much as I did when I was younger. I’ve realized people have their own lives, and you’re lucky to get their attention at all. But I don’t ghost people. I used to stay in very immediate contact with them.

I feel very little need to connect with other people. My friends are basically my family and in-laws -  about 10 people who I truly trust and would do anything for. I don’t really want more people-related responsibilities. <- lucky little sp-dom introvert. ;) Though I can somewhat relate. More people means more energy going out, and I spend so much of it on my books and hobbies, I don’t have a lot left over. I was laughing with a fellow sp-dom INFP just yesterday about how we are both like “OMG, I have SOCIAL events in October, 5 of them!! I’m going to be so busy!!! Will it be too much???” Chill, girl. They’re interspersed over weeks. Stop over-thinking “invasions of my time!”

Meanwhile, I have many positive and negative 9 attributes:

The core problem of 9, apathy, is a BIG problem for me. Many problems in my life have been caused by not acting, by waiting too long in hopes that the problem will go away, by riding along on easy work (even if it is work I love and is worth doing) and not doing the hard work that would lead to the achievements I really want to make (writing a novel, etc.). I’m not a lazy/apathetic person in general - I can (and do) work extremely hard (I run my own art business and working 12+ hours a day is typical for me). But it’s a mental apathy issue, the quailing at mentally facing hard tasks and ending up doing small easy things that soothe me. <- aww, tho I relate to procrastinating. Being around 9s, it kind of amuses me to watch you self-soothe. Like, shouldn’t you be studying for your math final and not reorganizing the bathroom cabinets? And it seems like 9s can drag their feet even when it’s important until they decide to do it, then nothing stands in their way.

Other 9 aspects/problems I can see in myself:

Being vague - not knowing what I really want and getting frustrated by not having a clear vision of what to do. <- yeah, that’s 9ish.

Suppressing anger and other “negative” emotions because of seeking inner peace/blankness. And if I do express anger (usually in a burst under stress) I feel guilty about it. <- 1 wing, yeah.

Setting up walls between other people and myself because I can’t deal with their emotions. I don’t struggle with the intense kind of “merging” described by many 9s, but I think that might be because I’m Fi-dom and probably sp-dom. But it is still exhausting to handle the emotions, opinions, etc. of many people for long periods of time. <- I need to ask my 9w8 INFP more about this specifically, but I don’t know that she fully merges so much as prematurely (sp-dom) throws up a barrier and says Nope to things, in hopes of avoiding other people creeping into her feelings. And yeah, she finds being around especially temperamental or high energy people difficult, since it’s such a bombardment of drama + her own intense reactions.

Tolerating behavior I don’t like for too long because “they might have good intentions.” Thinking positively of people because believing the worst of them feels mean. <- same for me, Ne + compliant type issues.

I have very strong opinions but I don’t like to argue with other people. I tend to believe that if the truth exists, other people will be drawn to it without my twisting their arm and making them see it. <- that’s nice of you and very healthy Fi-dom. I … will absolutely argue up to a point, then decide it’s not worth my time and pointless.

My motto (good and bad) is often “Let’s wait and see if things improve.” <- haha.

Also, although I do struggle with 6ish self-doubt, when it comes down to it I trust my gut and believe that I know what is best for myself. People can give me advice and I’ll nod and thank them but inside I’m thinking “You don’t know me!” In general I am (or at least appear and strive to be) a cheerful, emotionally stable, positive person. So… I still think 9 gets more points. But honestly, this is one of those things that makes me believe in tritypes because I relate a lot to both of them! Thank you for reading all of this!

Go with your gut. Be a happy little 9. :)

ETA: Regarding relating to them both -- of course you do, 6 is your stress line, so it will show up regularly. ;)

[robin-the-enby]

Hi! Can you write a headcanon for Bucky Barnes having a girlfriend with a chronic illness and anxiety, please? It would help me a lot. Thanks and have a beautiful day!

Yaaaay, I love writing headcanons, it comes the easiest for me to do honestly. I tried to keep it as vague, since there hadn't been mentioned a specific illness, but I hope you still like it!

I think it's safe to say this man knows exactly what he's doing.

I think he's the "caring but not coddling" type of person.

Since you are somewhat his rock, something that keeps him stable during these times, where many things are still very new to him.

So of course he'll gladly help you with anything you need.

At first, he'll ask you to tell him as much about your illness as possible, because I think he'd have somewhat of a hard time coming up with questions on his own.

If he feels like he's still uneducated or if you have a hard time talking about it, he'll try to search up stuff on the internet but then discard the idea, since anyone can say literally anything on there and get in touch with a specialist instead.

He's really the best at supporting you throughout anything that comes with your illness.

Are you in pain? He makes sure that you'd taken your meds if you take any. If a massage is what you need, he's got you as well. Can you imagine how nice a massage by his metal arm would feel??? Oh man...

If you need to go to the hospital for some time or undergo a surgery, he'll be there for you as much as he can. When you wake up, he's there with some nice chocolates and your favourite trinket from home to make the stay easier for you.

If there's something special you need, be it treatment, meds or just anything to make daily tasks easier, he's ready to pull some strings, be it with Sam or even the Wakandans. Sure, it's kind of sad that not all people can do that, but I think it's alright to be selfish when it comes to your wellbeing and I'm sure Bucky does as well.

If anyone's being a dickhead to you because of your illness, maybe at work or anywhere else, do tell him, he's ready to...talk it out with them. No, no, you don't need to fret hun, he's just gonna give them a lesson, nice and calm, about how it's so easy to not treat people like shit because of something that is out of their control.

Honestly, I think Bucky has some sort of anxiety as well. He's been brainwashed for a very long time and the only thing he knew how to do was kill.

So I think that he definitely gets nervous around new people, at least in the beginning. He really doesn't want them to react the same as Tony did (not that he was mad at him for it).

He's very afraid of hurting someone, even if it doesn't show that much. He doesn't want to hurt people, but neither did he back then and yet he still did. Sure, he should is cured now, but deep deep down, he's not 100% sure still.

So that makes meeting new people stressful for him, which makes it awkward, which makes him anxious.

Another thing in which Bucky's anxiety shows is that at first, he's reluctant to sleep with you. Not like that you horndog, I mean in the same bed.

He's still plagued with nightmares as more and more memories come back to him, always new people he's hurt, killed or done wrong.

And well, he doesn't want to accidentally hurt you. And if you're chronically ill? Well, that doesn't assure him at all, let me tell you that. He'd hate himself if he was somehow the reason your condition worsened.

But we're here to talk about your anxiety. I just wanted to show that Bucky can relate to a level, but got carried away a bit, oops (what can I say, I love this man).

Again, he'd ask you to tell him about it, what makes you anxious and what helps you calm down. How should he help you when you get a panic attack? And so on, and so on.

If you're in public and the busy streets cause to hyperventilate, he's the best man for quick escapes. He'd quickly pull you into an alleyway, put his jacket on the ground for you and help you calm down.

If you need space, he's gonna sit against the opposite wall, if you need him to distract you, he'll talk about the most random stuff he comes up with, if you need help with some grounding excercises, he knows plenty of those, if you need some contact, he'll gladly pull you into his lap and pet your hair while whispering comforting words into your ear.

If you get anxious or uncomfortable anywhere at any time, you can 100% tell him. He even encourages it. He'll whisk you away, somewhere where you'll feel safer.

If your anxiety makes you unable to speak, you two have a gesture that you both agreed on for instances like these, maybe a few taps on his shoulder, a squeeze of his hand, something like that and he knows he needs to get you out of wherever you two are.

If you go to therapy because of your anxiety and don't like it, feel discouraged, Bucky is great at comforting you.

He himself isn't really that thrilled about his therapy, but that's mainly because it feels weird to him to open up to someone who listen's to him because it is their job to do so, he feels weird talking about his deepest feelings and fears with someone who he doesn't know anything about. And the fact that his therapy wasn't really his choice is not helping as well.

If you wanna change therapists, he's totally onboard with you. But he'll remind you that feeling like it's not working happens sometimes, and that you should not give up. You deserve to be happy and healthy.