#when i come up with anything for once anyone and everyone must be aware

[hansolen-archive]

beneath the light of a neon moon

꩜ pairing ⇾ beast!dazai x reader

꩜ word count ⇾ 3.5k

꩜ summary ⇾ this is basically just dazai being a wet cat and unable to understand yet overanalyzing his attachment towards you through all the world’s that exist in the book. he’s just a lil weird about it.

꩜ author’s note ⇾ i missed him. there’s no other explanation. beast dazai needs more love 💔 i think dazai having beef with himself through all the worlds is very real and very true. this is nothing but the outcome of the visions that plagued me.

꩜ cw ⇾ slight yandere vibes i won’t lie.. but c’mon it’s dazai so that’s to be expected. some possesive behaviour might come up. slight spoilers for beast if you haven’t finished the ln/manga/movie, though nothing too major. if anything else needs to be tagged lmk!

ability description — the reader’s ability stays active 24/7 and it does take a toll on her. while i haven’t gone into too much detail of what it really does (maybe more in the future, since i have a lot of ideas for it lol) but the ability holds a similarity to that of arahabaki — it too is an entity. not really a god but something more sinister. reader is basically a concious host of that entity which lays dormant.

If Nakahara Chuuya — one of the top most executives of the Port Mafia, is called the left hand of the boss; then it goes without saying that you are the right hand. Just as scary, sometimes even worse. 

If Chuuya is the hurricane that destroys towns after towns with its howling whirlwinds, then you are the tsunami that envelopes everyone entirely. Once and for all — like an oppressive silence. And yet it’s commonly accepted that destruction is prevalent regardless of which hand the boss chooses to use. 

Everyone knows that the hands of the devil reach far and wide. Must be nice having two vessels of otherworldly entities on the tips of his fingers, they all murmur. And yet no one seems to mention how hard it is to actually maintain them, Dazai can’t help but think to himself.

Everyone in Yokohama can see the large and daunting building from wherever they stand, yet no one glances at it twice as they go through their day. A wise choice, by most. It’s sleek and definitely suspicious, neither the civilians nor the government officials ever directly mention it — in public, that is. Hushed whispers can only be so silent.

The boss of the Port Mafia resides at the top most floor of the main building. Anyone who has ever had the (dis)pleasure of being called up, for whatever reason it may be, knows for a fact that the silence on that floor is deafening. Except for when a certain red haired executive comes around, then one can hear bickering reach far and wide. But that wasn’t always the case, much like today.  

The only sound that could be heard along the entire floor was that of your heals clicking against the cold marble tiles. After two knocks against the large doors, you enter Dazai’s office. You hand him the papers — strict and professional, like you ought to be. You’re a sub-executive afterall. By your own choice, of course. You had been offered the executive position far too many times, and yet you always declined. Harshly too, much to Chuuya’s disdain. 

He was unable to comprehend it the first few times, and he even tried to knock some sense into you. He wanted you to understand that you were far too deep into this side of the world to continue thinking that you couldn’t cross a ‘certain’ line. You shouldn’t keep trying to balance your way as you continue to stride on the thin thread that separates the civilian world from the mafia one. You’re in too deep, and have done too much to continue acting as though you have a way out. 

But your only response was a soft hum, which frustrated him even further. Perhaps more at himself than at you. You both were well aware that neither of you ever had a choice, no matter what the circumstances may be. No matter which road you chose, the destination always ended up here.

Although if Dazai willed it, you would be given the executive title in a minute. Whether you wanted it or not. Instead, he allows you to relish in the feeling of being able to make a choice. Some part of him, deep inside his fucked up sense of self — tainted by the shades of blood and things far darker — he almost feels like he owes this to you, at the very least. Even if it’s just for the sake of maintaining what remains of your moral integrity — your sanity, even.

Not that it changes much, you already perform all the executive duties as far as protocol is considered. Including being present in the meetings, guiding troops and having your own faction within the Port Mafia. It’s generally accepted by the entire organisation that you are equal to the executives, if not something more — to the boss, that is. 

Dazai allows you to have a feeling of distance from the work that you do, the lives that you take, the sins that he makes you commit. Letting you wallow in the false sense of security that you could choose to step away any time. Somehow it leaves you a little sane and gives him a little more room to play with. Afterall, no one would enjoy a completely broken doll. 

He enjoys humouring you from time to time. As if this whole play wasn’t written by him. As though he hadn’t willed every single interaction on this path into motion. As if he wasn’t the devil’s advocate, whispering the sins you were to commit with his hypnotising voice. 

He needed you with him on this path. It was all for the plan he had threaded together, he tried to convince himself.

The plan, yes. But Dazai is well aware that isn’t entirely true. And sometimes, a paranoid part of him thinks that you do too. Know for a fact that more than any of the plans — he did this for himself. He brought you and caged you into this world carved out of sin just for his own selfish reasons.

Not for Oda, not for the book, not for the sustenance of the world or any of those idealistic reasons — but for himself. Afterall, he was never an idealistic man to begin with. He was just a boy when it all started. A boy who had given up far too much and for once, wanted something for himself. He wanted you.

And so he did. He kept you. Weaved you into his spiderweb of grand plans. He often thinks back to how he knew everything there was to know about you, before he even got the chance to meet you for the first time. There you stood under the cold harsh lighting of that deserted old lab. He remembers how the flashes of his other lives played all at once. It almost felt as though he was reliving the memories through the sparks of light.

It was making him sick. Being able to witness in such excruciating detail of how he got to hold you so tenderly, in those worlds from the book. It made him feel intense emotions that he couldn’t even begin to describe. All he could do was just glance at those memories that were undoubtedly his own — and yet felt like he was watching them dance through the other side of a glass door. They’re all so painfully clear and yet there is a huge barrier in between.

Dazai has always been well aware that he never should have brought you into this. He knows that he shouldn’t have tried to find some sort of replica of the emotions he felt, as he replayed all his other lives. But he just couldn’t help it. He has to keep you alongside him. Hadn’t he sacrificed enough in this life? You’ve been so good to all the other versions of him, can’t you treat him the same in this one? You’ll forgive him, right? You love him, right?

You have to. There’s no other way out.

𓇚

Dazai’s mind undoubtedly wanders back to the first time you fainted from his touch. He knew it was going to happen — saw it as a staple part of you both meeting in all those worlds from the book. 

He knew what was to come if he were to let his rough bandaged palm even slightly graze your warm one. You’d faint. Like you had in all the other worlds, of which he carried the heavy weight. Those memories all helped him create acute plans for this world. Yet, the ones that he cherished the most, the memories that weren’t a heavy burden to carry but instead some sort of salvation — the ones he replayed over and over again like a broken record in hopes to reach some sort of comfort — were the memories he shared with you. 

In every world, your first meeting was something special, he kept those memories safely. Back when he was younger and the light in his eyes had not yet been entirely consumed — he used to find himself wondering how you both would meet in this world. How differently would it play out? It helped him distract himself from his surroundings and the heavy responsibilities. Those memories often flooded his mind as he gazed into nothing. In all of them, you always fainted when he first touched you. And after that too. 

But, in all his other lives, it lessened over time, and eventually the fainting stopped. “It feels rather relaxing,” you had once said to him — in the original world. To the original version of him.

“It feels as though The Presence subdues for a bit, as if it were never there. Continue holding me like this, won't you?” you spoke to him so gently as you both layed on top of each other with his trenchcoat covering the both of you. It held so much comfort and warmth, like it was just you both in this world, rest all be damned. Dazai wished that adoration was directed to him and not the man of origin.

His heart aches at the thought. What could he do for you to talk to him the same in this world too? What would it take? 

In all the other worlds — with time, you ended up building some sort of immunity, or rather you got used to his touch and even craved it. In every single world. Every world of the book, but this one.

You never seemed to have gotten used to his touch in this world. You still fainted. Every. Single. Time. 

𓇚

Dazai hates it. He’s well aware of the fact that this world is special — after all it’s the only one where Oda ends up living. It’s a world that has been handcrafted by him alone. Each and every thread has been woven with a purpose in mind. Each action has a motive behind it. Which is exactly why he needs to sustain it. Yet he can’t help it — the jealousy that fumes within him. Jealous of himself? Such a stupid reason. He knows that and yet—

“Boss, here’s the report of on the foreign mercenary group that recently surged up, as you requested. I have sent my men to look through their abandoned hideout, although I’m sure you can already imagine the outcome.” you say as you hand him the files.

Dazai doesn’t quite understand why you continue to put up the professional facade when it’s just the two of you here. Yet, he decides to humour you.

He glances at files with mild disinterest, and then at your hand. A thought occurs in his head — among many others. It’s indulgent. Entirely so. You will not enjoy it one bit. And yet he’s also well aware of his track record of never really listening to what you want. He knows this will hamper a few upcoming tasks and meetings. But when has he ever given a damn about those? And so he decides to indulge himself. He takes the report from your hands in a smooth motion and accidentally brushes the tips of his fingers against yours.

It’s a brief touch, and it all happens in the flash of a second. You noticed it, he realises. You saw his intent building up and yet you still offered to hand him the files rather than just placing them on his desk. 

His ability is always active, as is yours. You lose consciousness in seconds.

And you fall.

Right into his arms, like he planned you would. He glances at your face, there’s a serene glow emanating from you. Something about you is always pulling him in. He’s well aware of how you both are so intervened in each other’s lives that perhaps it was fated. Maybe he’s not entirely to blame for everything, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

You look so relaxed like this, he thinks as he adjusts the both of you so that you can lay down in a more comfortable position. It’s often underestimated how tiring it must be to have the ability active at all times, especially one that is as draining as yours.

Perhaps, this could be an escape for you as well. Laying with him as both of your breathing falls into sync with one another. Or maybe he’s just cheating and controlling his heartbeat as he tries to come up with some valid excuse as to why he gave into his impulse. All while he continues to trace your face with his thumb. It’s a gentle motion, making sure to not disturb your slumber, though he doubts you’ll wake up from it. Your track record shows that you’ll usually be knocked out for the better half of the day.

The expression on your face is something he wishes to dissect. You look as though you’re in some dream far away from here. He wonders where you go when you lose consciousness. Will you ever take him with you? Doesn’t matter. He will follow you just the same. 

Dazai can’t help but wonder what you would do if you found out about other worlds. Worlds where you weren’t led to such a life. Where he didn’t turn you into a weapon for his own motives. Would you hate him for it? When you are made to face all the other versions of you — the much happier, and brighter versions. Where in the light from your eyes hasn’t been entirely extinguished yet. 

Dazai fears that you already know. Can’t help it when you both hold eye contact during brief meetings. At times he catches a glimpse of the space — somewhere in there — that he cannot reach. They often say that the devil’s arms reach far and wide, and yet he can’t help but feel there’s a large distance that he alone can’t cover, in his quest to reach you. (Dazai also knows that he is no devil. It has alwaye just been a title that was handed to him. He wonders if you know that, too.)

Afterall, you, too, have the look of someone who is hiding something. He understands the expression well enough — he has to meets those eyes every day in the mirror.

𓇚

That’s one of the many reasons he prefers you like this. With your eyes closed and breathing steady. You don’t give him the all knowing gaze, that you usually carry. He gets to hold you close, without it eating him up from the inside. Some sick part of him likes having this power over you. Being able to hold it above your head any time he likes. He would never use it against you though. Not really.

Your breathing is rhythmic. A constant motion. He has memorised your breathing pattern over the years. To the point where it’s almost comforting to listen to it. Almost.

His hand hovers from your cheeks to sliding right at the base of your neck. Something swells inside of him. Something sinister. He can’t help but feel a little drunk. Drunk over the control he has over you right now — your life. He can continue to feel as guilty as he likes, but it’s no secret what exactly he’s guilty of.

Dazai gently steadies your head and moves it so that it’s resting on his chest. He then tries to bring his focus back to the papers that continue to lay on his desk, and then glances at the ones that fell on the floor. Lord knows how much that slug would nag him if he didn’t finish reading these by now. So annoying.

He tries to push his focus on reading them, but the comfort of having you so close against him is really distracting. It’s contrasting, really, how your body spreads such warmth against his cold one. Like a single candlelight that continues to glow in the cold stark night.

You both should do this more often, he thinks. Though you might end up hating him for it. But that won’t be an issue in the near future, considering what’s to come — the plans written in the book.

What will be an issue is Chuuya barging through the black doors and seeing you both in such a precarious position — then he might proceed to quite literally kill Dazai. No matter if he’s the boss of the Port Mafia or not.

Afterall, Chuuya is probably the closest companion you have in this world. You both make sure to look out for one another as much as you can. It’s almost as if you both have this air of understanding, that Dazai often feels disconnected from. 

Is it because you both are vessels? Or because he uses you both similarly and keeps you both on leashes? Or is it some form of familial bonding that his emotional nerve receptors are far too fused out to understand? 

Dazai doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that you don’t necessarily hate him. That you never did. He doesn’t know that you let him do as he wills. He doesn’t know that no matter how much he thinks of himself as the ‘mastermind’ it’s you who handed him the reins. The one that held the other end of the leash that was hung on your neck and placed it right into the palm of his hands.

𓇚

“Men will be men,” The lady in the white lab coat had once said to you. 

“They shall always believe that they were the ones who invented the wheel. They shall always come close to calling themselves ‘creators’ of it all. They do not understand.”

Neither did you, back then. All you could really remember were the sparks she sent flying towards you — no mercy.

To those people in the lab coats that stood behind the glass — observing you like you were some lab rat and noted down the reactions your body gave out cynically — you weren’t some kid. Not some seven year old that probably should’ve been playing in park with kids her age or discussing the latest episode of some show that always aired at six in the evening.

No, you were just a vessel. A means to an end. That’s all you were as they watched you writhing through the glass, taking in the after effects of the electricity coursing through your veins. Sometimes, you still feel the sparks travelling through your body and the night repeats. This time — it’s in your head. Yet it hurts all the same.

But what that lady didn’t understand was that Dazai was no man. He never felt like one, at the very least. No matter how many masks he puts on to fill in the gaps of self — that one hollow part of him never fills up. He’s afraid it never will.

He never felt connected to those around him — to humanity. The best he could have had was Oda, and he didn’t exactly get to experience that in this world. So, as a self preserving tactic, he tries to form some scrappy sense of comfort with what's left for him and take it from you instead. Some part of him felt like you know this too, and let it happen.

In some wild way it’s fitting, he thinks. It makes sense that this world was meant to be special. It’s the only one where Oda will be able to continue living and eventually write that novel. It’s the only one where Dazai will finally fulfill his long running wish. It only makes sense that there are innumerable amount of exceptions.

Not only are the shin-soukoku switched and roles have been exceptionally reversed, new anomalies continue to rise up as days go by. That’s part of the reason why he decided to make you part of the Port Mafia. To deal with those anomalies efficiently, since your ability was perfect to cut through them all. 

𓇚

If anyone were to barge in right now, they would be greeted with an extremely bizzare sight. The boss of Port Mafia, one of — if not the most feared man in Yokohama — gazing gently at you as his dark figure envelopes you completely. In some humourous way it almost looks like a black cat holding it’s prey close, making sure it doesn’t get snatched.

He likes it, he supposes. The way you look so serene in the low lighting of his office. How your head rests right next to his bandaged heart. He adores the way you your lips settle into a soft pout in your sleep. You seem much more honest with your expressions when you’re asleep than when you’re awake. You look so inviting, he just can’t help himself.

He’s in too deep — you’ve had to have put him under a spell of sorts. There’s no other logical explanation to the way you’ve made him do such illogical things. How could you have reduced him of all people — the demon prodigy and Mori’s successor into such a state? Since he was a child logic has been drilled into his very bones. Every strategy and it’s counter. The side of him that was built to be made a mafiaso has always been rational.

What he failed to take into account is that to you he’s just — Dazai. There’s no other valid explanation to how you’ve enamoured and caged his heart in the tender embrace of your palms, in every single world of the book.

So he gives in, he lets himself fall. He leans down to place a soft kiss onto your lips. With as much gentleness as he can muster up — given his disposition. It was supposed to be nothing more than a soft peck. What he didn’t see coming was how as your eyes began to flutter open and how you kissed him back.

© hansolen do not translate or repost anywhere else. reblogs n comments appreciated 💌

[mischievousmoony]

𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑… 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 (𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝)

⟢ poly!marauders x fem!reader (initial wolfstar & lily x reader)

⟢ summary: james is the sun, the center of the universe, of course when you realize how brightly he shines you can't help but fight over him. it comes unexpectedly, the way it brings you all together . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁3.6k

⟢ warnings/tags: suggestive content/mature themes, hogwarts is a university these characters are in their 20s, poly!marauders, confident!reader, not proofread

⟢ masterlist

note: the dialogue is cringe i fear... this is another one i wrote for fun in the notes app before i started being active on here again

At first, James thought it was jealousy. When he saw you kiss Lily goodbye at the portrait hole, he felt it for the first time. He couldn’t really tell who he felt it for, though. But then he felt it again, this time when he found Remus and Sirius cuddling in their shared dorm, and he’d chalked it up to being jealous that his friends were in happy relationships whilst he was alone. 

He tried flirting with other people, thinking a relationship of his own would cure these feelings. In his endeavors, James found that flirting was something he’s actually quite good at. But when he was on the receiving end of flirtatious remarks, he noticed his stomach never flipped the way it did for his friends, and all they had to do was say ‘hello’ to make it happen. He even tried to go on a date, but he found himself itching to be back at Gryffindor Tower where you lot were hanging out. 

So, James decided to face the facts. He has a crush… or four, he supposes. But it’s not like romance between him and his friends is unheard of. Other students around Hogwarts used to poke fun at you all for the inter friend group dating, accusing you of things like passing each other around for the fun of it. 

Someone once told Sirius he couldn’t escape the incestuous nature of his family, and that’s when the boys started hexing anyone who made any sort of joke on the topic. Soon enough, people learned to keep their mouths shut. 

But it wasn’t what other students made it seem. You all may have been perceived as a lascivious bunch who couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, but there were deep emotions between some of you that surpassed mere physical attraction. 

James probably had one of the most tame histories, save for Peter, who managed to find a girlfriend outside of the group. In James’ past, there was casual fling with Lily, which both parties wanted to be more, yet neither ever had the courage to say it. The relationship ended when they both inwardly thought they’d be better off letting go than silently yearning for more. Aside from that, James had managed to kiss each of you some way or another, whether it be via drinking games or experimental fun.

As for the rest of you, let’s just say you all did a bit more than kiss some of the other members in your group before you all coupled off. 

You, for example, have dabbled in romance with both Sirius and Remus at different points in time. There was a frenzied night with Remus that had you both longing for more, yet never acting on it. And there was a time where everyone thought you and Sirius would end up together. The tension between you two was once so palpable it pervaded your every interaction and shrouded your awareness of anything but each other. It fizzled after a while of neither of you ever making a real move, but sometimes you both feel it creep back into your conversations like an addiction you couldn’t shake. 

Lily and Remus also had a history. They were together for a while, a saccharine relationship that made those around them equally jealous as they were nauseous. Eventually, they broke it off because they couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. They theorized that they must be better off as friends, but what could’ve been still seems to loom over them. 

And James doesn’t know this, if he found out now he might disintegrate on the spot, but everyone’s fancied him at some point. But there’s something about Potters and their tendency to be oblivious. Everyone’s tried to get out of James’ friend zone and it went quite unnoticed. Lily was the only one who’s ever succeeded, and yet, they let each other become their ones that got away. 

It might be a good thing that James never knew about his friends’ crushes. He probably would’ve turned most of you down, depending on the timing. And that would’ve haunted him now. He already has to deal with the pining and the nerves and the misery of it all. Regret added to that mix would send him over the edge. 

After all, the minute you all walk into the common room his heart is already racing with nerves. 

First came Remus and Sirius, Remus having his arm slung across Sirius’ shoulders. Sirius’ walk is an odd looking shuffle due to the way he presses himself into his boyfriend’s side. 

There’s the pining. James wishes he could be sandwiched between them. He imagines shuffling along, like Sirius, and watching the pace of their footsteps sync up. 

Next, James sees Lily. Beaming, as always. She has a firm grip on your hand as she tows you in after her. You two are giggling about something and James swears he’s never heard anything more beautiful than the way your laughters intertwine. He’d give anything to be included in whatever you two were so charmed by. 

“Hey, Prongs,” Remus greets as they sit on the sofa next to him. Remus’ knees knock against James’. James doesn’t want to think about how much it affects him. 

“Hi Jamie,” you say in a sing song voice, passing in front of him as Lily leads you to sit on the armchair with her. The two of you might as well be on top of each other when you get situated, your legs twisted together.

James shifts in his seat, “Hi,” he rasps, then clears his throat, “Hi guys.” 

“What are you up to?” Lily bats her beautiful, long eyelashes at James.

James picks up a book Peter left on the end table next to him, “Studying,” he lies. What he was really doing was thinking about all of you. He couldn’t exactly disclose that, now could he? 

Lily’s eyes dart down to the cover of the book, “Advanced History of Magic?”

“I thought you dropped that after OWLs?” You wonder aloud. 

James presses his lips into a line while he tries to think of what to say, “Yeah, I, er- I’m not studying for class. I’m studying for pleasure. History is a very important subject.” James internally groans. He curses Peter in his mind for not leaving a better book behind. 

The couples around him seem to share skeptical glances that make James want to walk into the Black Lake, lie down, and drown there. 

James' next words tumble out like a torrent, “It’s actually Peter’s. He was telling me something interesting from his class. Wanted to read up on it myself. Anyway, I should go return this to him. Cheers, guys.”

Before anyone can say anything, James is already speeding off with the book. 

Oh, the misery. James hates how awkward things have become. He’s not usually an awkward person, but being around all four people he’s crushing on is overwhelming, even for him. 

Somewhere in Hogwarts’ halls, James leans against one of the cold stone walls and hugs Peter’s book to his chest. 

What is wrong with me, he thinks. And then he gets a tad arrogant, I’m James Potter! I can handle anything. Even having a thing for my best friends. 

James decides right then and there that he doesn’t want to feel like such a mess anymore. It’s time for a different approach. 

The next time he sees one of you, he thinks to himself, you know how to be confident, James, you’ve done it before. And so he puts on his best act. 

But for some reason, acting confident translated into constantly flirting with all of his friends. He really had no intention of doing that, it’s not like he actually wanted to get with any of you. He’d never want to try to interfere in your relationships. But for some reason, as his words tumbled out with amorous undertones and romantic implications, the negative emotions tumbled away too. So he kind of just kept doing it. 

From then on, your interactions with James have gone much more smoothly. Admittedly, they were also much more intoxicating. 

One day after Quidditch practice, James finds you and Lily wrapped up in each other’s arms on the sofa. Your arms are around Lily’s waist as you both watch the crackle of the fireplace before you. The sofa’s back cushions lay strewn across the floor to accommodate the space the two of you take up. 

With a grin fitting his face, James approaches the sofa. 

“Hey,” he calls on his approach. The two of you shift onto your backs to look in the direction of James’ voice behind you. When he arrives, he leans his forearms on the back of the sofa, one folded over the other, and hovers above you two, “Lily, Y/N.” He greets. 

“Hi James,” Lily says on behalf of you both. 

James eyes leisurely drift along the length of the couch and back up again, “Don’t you two look cozy.”

“Sure are,” Lily grins lazily, “If there were any more room on here we’d invite you to join,” your girlfriend jokes. 

“That’s alright, doll,” James says with a lopsided smile. He then leans in closer to you, and you notice the sparkling reflection of the firelight in his eyes. He lowers his voice to a whisper as if he’s telling you a secret, “Next time.” His voice comes out like silk and his eye contact is unwavering. You find it too intoxicating to even blink.

Your lips part slightly, and you can hear Lily’s breath get caught in her throat. It was just two words, it really shouldn’t have affected you two so much. Maybe it’s the way he said them… or maybe it’s just James. James, whose tousled hair is sticking to his forehead still from a strenuous practice and whose lips are only centimeters away. 

A moment of silence passes between you three before James straightens out his spine, standing with his hands resting where his forearms previously were. 

His fingers pitter patter against the sofa back, “I’m off to shower…” James says, “Save me a seat at dinner?”

Without waiting for a reply, James walks towards the boys dormitories. You both watch James disappear up the stairs. When you look at Lily, you find her face flushed. You wiggle your eyebrows and she slaps you on the arm, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. Her hand lingers, then trails down to fit into yours. She discovers a sweaty palm, and now she’s the one raising her eyebrows. 

A few days later, Remus and Sirius find themselves in a similar situation. 

The three Marauders found themselves running for their lives from Filch after attempting to pull a prank without their fourth, who had to bail last minute. They had to rethink the plan on the spot without the extra set of hands, and found themselves nearly getting caught. 

Luckily, Remus knew this area of the castle intimately from his prefects rounds, and found them a room to hide in. 

The boys tumble inside. Sirius and James find themselves with their backs to the nearest wall, both heaving to catch their breaths. Remus locks the door behind them, and releases a shocked laugh as he backs into the room. 

“Quick thinking, Rem. I wonder what other tricks you have up your sleeve.” James says, his tone suggestive. 

“Oi!” Sirius exclaims while Remus flushes. Sirius looks a bit amused, but still feels a bit territorial too. 

James swivels to face Sirius, his body not coming out of contact with the wall. He leans his forearm on the stones above Sirius’ head. Being a bit shorter, Sirius has to look up at James as he leans in ever so slightly, “Don’t worry, Sirius. I find your secrets just as intriguing.” 

Territorial feelings cured. Sirius tries to place the feelings that replaced them and… oh. His head snaps towards his boyfriend, who looks downright besotted with the display in front of him. 

James maintains eye contact and a confident smirk as lets his arm slide down the wall until his palm is flat against it, level with Sirius’ head. He gives the wall a gently pat, then abruptly turns away. 

He takes a single step towards Remus, “I have a sneaking suspicion Filch is still lurking in the area. I’ve got the cloak, so I’m off to be your knight in shining armor and cause a distraction.” James winks, and then he’s out the door. 

The pair of boys that were left behind watch the door thoughtfully for a few moments. 

Sirius’ tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he prepares himself to make a bold suggestion. 

“Hey Moony?” he asks. 

“Yeah?” Remus responds breathlessly. 

“Hear me out about something…” Sirius trails off, still looking in the direction James left in. 

A week later, you and Lily enter the common room in search of your messy-haired friend. He spots you two before either of you find him. 

“If it isn’t my favorite girls,” James waves you both over to where he is seated, which is a small table by the window. Remus and Sirius, who look a bit peeved to have James’ attention drawn away from them, are sitting across from him. 

“What brings you here?” James asks when you arrive at his side, “It’s date night, if I’m not mistaken, isn’t it?” 

You share a look with Lily, “Yes, actually, we’re just about to head off to Hogsmeade.” 

Lily rests a hand on James’ shoulder, “But we were thinking… we’d love it if you’d join us.” 

While the confusion on James’ face starts to soften into understanding, Sirius chokes on his own spit. His voice is strained as he holds back from coughing, “James is busy.”

Your eyes dart to Sirius, “Is he?” then back to James. “Couldn’t you make some time?” You bat your eyes at him. 

Sirius looks horrified, “We have some— Marauders only!— business to attend to. James was just about to accept our invitation, isn’t that right, Prongs?”

“Uhh, I-” James sputters, wildly taken aback by what’s happening. What is happening? 

“Well why don’t you two just invite Peter,” you suggest callously as Lily’s grip on James’ shoulder turns possessive. 

“This isn’t the kind of business we want to invite Peter to. We want James.” Sirius’ eyes narrow. 

You furrow your brows at Sirius’ words and it takes a moment for the meaning of them to sink in. Your features harden as Sirius and Remus suddenly go from friends to competitors. 

“Well I guess you’re out of luck, then.” You say, squinting down at Sirius, “I think James is going to want to come with us.”

Sirius didn’t much like the way you looked down on him, so he brought himself up to his feet where he could tower over you. 

“It’s cute that you think so, but we’re closer to James than anyone. James is our best friend.”

“And I think it’ll be staying that way.” 

“I beg to differ.” Sirius counters, his tone laced with arrogance. 

James’ jaw goes slack at the implication.

“If you're going to beg I prefer that you get on your knees first.” Your voice is dripping with mockery, challenge, and something else that takes everyone a moment to decipher. 

It’s something familiar, a certain tension that’s proving once again to have never fully gone away. It flashes in Sirius’ eyes too, his fiery gaze wavering to give way for a fervent expression. 

The sudden shift in tone sent an electric shock through the three onlookers, James’ jaw dropping impossibly lower.

“Trust me, doll. Where I’m involved, I’m not the one who’s gonna be begging on their knees.” 

Remus somehow looks like he’s enjoying this, which should be unusual for a guy watching his boyfriend flirt with someone else. He’s leaned back in his seat, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips, as his eyes dart between each of his friends. 

“What’s happening,” James chokes out, the nerves he expelled weeks ago suddenly bubbling back up again. 

No one answers James. Remus is having too much fun and you are too busy staring down Sirius. Lily joins you, inching closer to both you and him as she leans over your shoulder, her body pressing into your back. 

“Oh, he’s lying, don’t you think?” She says, her voice velvety smooth. 

“Certainly so. I have it on good authority that he’s the type to want to be in charge,” you jut your chin toward Remus, whose gaze you meet while memories of each other swirl around in your minds, bringing matching twinkles to your eyes. 

“Can-? Can I interject?” James takes a shot at cutting through the tension, his voice cracking.  

“Of course, Jamie,” you turn your head from Sirius to look at him but a soft hand pinching your chin gently turns you right back. 

“Eyes on me, dollface, I’m not done with you,” Sirius says firmly, as if proving how commanding he can be. 

A choked noise emits from James’ throat and it’s not clear if it’s in protest of being cast aside again or a direct reaction to the way Sirius is handling you. 

Remus inches his hand towards James’, bumping his pinky into his. “Sit tight, I want to see where this goes,” he tells him. 

“See? So effortlessly commanding,” you vocalize to Lily, a hungry look in your eyes as they flick to Remus. 

Sirius’ possessive nature flares up. “This has been real cute, but you can you can back off of them now,” Sirius say, referring to both his boyfriend and James. 

Your eyes dart back to Sirius and that hungry sort of look doesn’t falter, “Want me to focus on you, do you? Ddon’t worry, baby, I can multitask.”

“Let's cut to the chase, are you two about to fight or kiss?” James defies Remus’ command to sit tight, suddenly speaking boldly, regaining his confidence from either sheer will or impatience, “Either is fine, I suppose, as long as you continue to let me watch.”

“I second that,” Remus agrees at once. 

“Third,” Lily chimes in, “though I’d prefer to see the ladder.” 

As James words sink in, it brings you back down to reality, that familiar veil of tension that shrouds your better judgment lifting. 

Worry filters in first, your actions suddenly feeling inappropriate. That they were, but you’re less worried about the nature of your actions and more so the fact that you behaved in such away with someone else right in front of your girlfriend. When you look at her, you’re met with a sly countenance that reminds you she was an active participant. 

You’re not the only one having inner turmoil after the racy display, a silence that’s tense for different reasons washing over you all. Everyone seems to be contemplating the implications of what just happened and how you all so fondly reacted to it. 

Lily is the one to cut through the silence first. 

“You know… I wouldn’t mind if all three of you joined us,” Lily tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as she asks “Do you, Lovie?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all,” your words coming out like a plea when you respond. 

Remus carefully stands from his seat, approaching Sirius with revere and settling his arm across his shoulder. His free hand extends to you, which you take without hesitation. His tender touch sends shivers up your spine. 

Your four sets of eyes drift to James, who’s still in his seat trying to process what’s going on. When it sinks that this is real life, he looks back at you all like you’re a newfound treasure. 

It’s instant, the way the feelings that never went away metamorphosize into something beautiful and new. And it’s an adjustment, for sure, but you all lean into it with surprising ease. 

The rumors fly, of course, when your peers start to take notice of the way things have changed. No amount of previous hexing scares them away from jumping to their conclusions and spreading their rumors. This time around, you’re all too enamored with each other to care much about what people say, but you do find it pitiful that they could never understand. But some witnesses to the loving little touches and soft remarks between each of you and all of you find that it makes sense now—all of you were destined from the start. 

For you have always been drawn to each other. It’s why you constantly gravitated from one to the next, the pull from those you left behind never really going away. 

It feels like a dream the way you all settle back into place with each other. James looks at you all in disbelief everyday. He couldn't have imagined a more perfect solution to his previously helpless pining.

You're quite pleased as well, the longing for what you never had with each of your boys finally resolved.

And Lily and Remus share a look some days, eyes twinkling, finding comfort in knowing now what their missing piece was. Or rather, pieces. 

“Well, I think I can pinpoint now why all of our relationships kept not working out,” Lily tells him once, in the very beginning. You’re all strolling around outdoors, basking in the sun, still shyly navigating through the newness of it all. 

The knuckles of your left hand fondly brush against those on James’ right. Lily walks alongside you, Remus on the end next to her. And Sirius has fallen behind purposefully, admiring the way the four of you look together. 

“Why’s that, Dove?” Remus asks. 

“Greed,” Sirius interjects, an impish grin dances on his lips as he jogs up to join you all again. He squeezes between you and Lily, slinging his arms around you both.

Sirius nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, “But who’s to say we can’t have it all?” 

[loveinhawkins]

was this written to solve my own inconsistencies because i keep forgetting Eddie literally hotwired the RV, they don’t need keys, why do you keep mentioning keys, you fool? maybe. do i also think they’d be this stupid? yes. ❤️

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Dustin says, midway to The War Zone.

Steve, who is used to this sort of outburst for things as mild as Dustin forgetting just one out of the eight pens on his person, does not react.

However Eddie—Hellfire rants aside—is not quite as familiar yet. He jumps practically a foot in the air.

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

All Dustin offers by way of explanation is an accusatory, “You,” pointing his finger right in Eddie’s face.

And then Eddie sees what’s dangling from said finger.

“… Oh.”

“What?” Steve says, glancing at the rearview mirror; Eddie quickly blocks Dustin from view, goes right up on his tiptoes and spreads his arms wide, curses when Dustin throws the keys—

—to Max, who catches them one-handed, who gives Eddie a grin that’s not so much pitying as it is evil, and then she—

—throws them to Lucas, and he somehow gets the metal ring to land on his finger, like he’s in a movie, and he twirls them round and round until Max snorts, and he grins like that had been his aim all along.

“Sinclair,” Eddie says, “I am begging you.”

“I’m not hearing much about what’s in it for him,” Erica says.

Aha! Eddie zeroes in on Erica and blocks her from Lucas, like a very unjust game of Keep Away.

“Dude,” Lucas says, affronted, “that’s not fair.”

Eddie has the decency to look a bit ashamed. Not too ashamed to stop because he is a pathetic man, but at least Steve still hasn’t noticed the—

“Lucas,” Erica says, in the aggrieved tones of a sister who’s despaired at him many, many times. “You’re on the basketball team. Just do a pass fake, nerd.”

Lucas feigns to the left, and Eddie falls for it—but, in what he’s sure is a completely unsportsmanlike move, he uses his height to his advantage, jumps…

And drops the keys with a clatter.

Steve must instantly recognise the sound for what it is, because he starts to cackle.

Eddie’s only saving grace is that Steve is driving, so at least he can’t see—

“Eddie’s going, like, super red in the face right now,” Dustin narrates helpfully.

“Scarlet,” Lucas says.

“Vermillion,” Robin pipes up from the floor.

“Ooh,” Dustin, Lucas, and Max chorus, impressed. Jesus Christ, they almost harmonize.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve says dryly, “you fucking moron. How did you miss those, it’s not like you had literally anything else on your mind.”

“You’re a real gentleman, Harrington, anyone ever told you that?” Eddie says weakly.

“Maybe once or twice,” Steve says, drawing it out teasingly, as if he means not often enough.

“Well, at least we got on the road,” Nancy says. Her voice quivers like she’s trying not to laugh—perched on the table, eyes shining with amusement. “And it did look pretty cool, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks this is an incredibly generous assessment, considering his main thought while breaking into the RV had been don’t get stuck in the window, Jesus Christ.

And then… like, he didn’t expect Steve to actually come up and watch him hotwire the damn thing, like, with rapt attention, so close that Eddie was kinda concerned he’d electrocute himself instead. Honestly, it was a miracle he got the engine started.

“That’s sweet of you, Wheeler, but I’m self-aware.”

“Since when?” Erica says.

Underneath everyone’s laughter, Steve grins and says, “Hey, don’t worry, man.” He catches Eddie’s eye in the rearview mirror, winks. “It was an educational experience.”

“Oh, wow, your face is even redder.”

“Henderson, I’m gonna put those goddamn keys so far up your ass.”

[litsenn]

Astarion and irony, my two cents.

Alright so I was reading this post on reddit about how Astarion's charisma is not that good, and how cringe and awkward he's when he flirts. Very interesting reading, the comments too were inspiring.

Although I agree with a lot of things written by the OP, I wanted to give my two cents... and it turned into a little 'essay'. So I thought I could post it here too.

(As always, it's only my pov, and I don't expect anyone to agree)

Indeed, you can easily tell that his beauty was enough for him to pick up victims for Cazador. With a smile like this, it doesn’t take too much effort to seduce people, especially vulnerable, desperate/drunk targets.

But there’s also something that is rarely addressed: Astarion's dark sense of humour, self-derision and tragical irony. It’s particularly visible in the mirror scene (“tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day” with that smirk, or his approval if you tell him you find another companion prettier). Also the dialogue about how you (I'll be using the general you) would prefer to die, or who you would bite; they're all dripping with sarcasm and irony. Likewise, when he tells you, after the first night, that the others could probably hear you from camp: he's jesting, because he's feeling comfortable for the first time in 200 years.

And even the dialog about his favorite pick up lines. Of course he's still trying to seduce you, but I think he's perfectly aware that those “lines” are over the top and won’t work on you. You just challenged him to find something better that "my little treat", so he gives you the worst .

To me, it seems like he knows how ridicule it is, and that’s precisely why he quotes them with so much emphasis. It's dramatic in a sense, because he's doing what he was forced to do for years, although he knows he doesn't have to do it anymore. "His favourite lines" he calls them, although he must hate them (hence the dark look upon his face when he quotes them.); irony again. And no matter how much he must loathe those lines, he seems to be having fun practicing them with you and seeing your reaction. (And if you ask him if he's having fun, i think he's really honest when he says yes, "it's hard not to with you")

It’s just my interpretation, but it's obvious to me that he’s playing – not playing you, but playing with you. Playing in the sense that he knows you won't trust a single word he's saying. And somehow this irony connects the two of you, the laughable (but tragic) idea of Astarion picking up lovers with those lines. His tone is overdramatic when he quotes them precisely because he knows how bad they are (and since Petras uses more or less the same lines, I tend to believe that they come from Cazador).

After all, at this point, you already slept together once, so Astarion knows you’re attracted to him and he doesn’t take that “flirt” too seriously (and that’s precisely why it works on my Durge ahah); he expects you to say yes because of course you liked it the first time.

Obviously, he’s still trying to play it cool because he's scared and confused (you probable are one of the rare persons he can have a second night with), but I don't think he believes those lines can actually turn you on. 

As for the “I love you”, I think he's being ironic again, because he knows you won’t believe him, he's deeply conscious that in this context, it doesn't mean anything and that you won't fall for it... (or will you? Maybe a part of him is already falling for you at this point, so who knows?). Anyway, he first says “what about everyone's favourite ?” which, to me, implies that he’s just making a silly demonstration of the type of “bad flirting” he’s used to. He shows off a little, as if telling you “look how easy it can be...”. The way he changes the tone of his voice and the look upon his face to make those three little words more believable seems to point at something along those lines : it's fun and tragic how much those empty words can make someone fall for you, there's some kind of irony here too.

But you... Well, he never promised to love you, he was clear from the start : only depraved carnal lust, so, obviously, none of you expect to hear "I love you". Dramatic irony again, from a narrative perspective this time, if you take the whole romance storyline.

And that silly yet lowkey tragic conversation is soon deflated by his frontal and casual proposition to have sex again. Another proof, to me, that he knew he didn't need to throw his lines at you, he did it because it was fun, in a pretty dark, ironical way.

He’s wearing a mask, the mask that "can open a lot of doors”, and since he begins to trust you, he laughs at that truth, ironically of course, because his beautiful face, the seduction, that’s also the tragedy of his existence.

Anyway, once again, that's just my personal interpretation, and that's much too long 😅

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for Writing and Drawing Amputees: Bandaged Stumps

When writing and drawing amputee characters, unless your character only just lost their limb, they don't need to wear a bandage over their stumps.

to be clear, eda's depiction in the show was fine, since she'd only just lost her arm and went (presumably) without any medical attention, but because the show didn't have much time to show her afterwards, I've noticed a tendency of the fandom to draw her wearing the bandage permanently, so that's why I'm picking on her for my example lol.

It's a bit of a trope at this point, and I think it comes from one of a few different places:

Amputees do wear bandages on their stumps, but usually only for the first 6-12 weeks post-amputation, sometimes longer if the amputation was a result of a burn. It's possible people saw this though and assumed it was permanent.

Most amputees wear a sock made of either cotton or silicone under their prosthetics to provide them with some extra padding. These socks, called liners, often stick out from the top of the prosthetic socket and could possibly be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

Some amputees will wear compression garments for a few months to a few years after their amputations which could also be mistaken for a bandage from a distance. These garments are designed to stop swelling and reduce phantom pain, but they aren't bandages.

Stumps get cold easier because their circulation typically isn't as good as the rest of the body, so some amputees will wear socks over them even if they aren't wearing a prosthetic to keep warm, which again could be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

This one is funny, but in my experience unfortunately, it's the most common: people think the end of an amputee's stump is just a perpetual open wound that never heals. Meaning to avoid "gore" it needs to be covered. I've met fully grown adults who believed this until I showed up to work/uni without my prosthetics or socks on.

People are uncomfortable with seeing an uncovered stump and so put bandages over it to avoid confronting their biases.

Some combination of these points.

But yeah, unless your amputee has only just lost their limb in the last few weeks, they don't need a bandage.

The ironic thing too, is that for most amputees, bandaging a stump is nearly impossible. I've been in and out of hospital since I was 1 year old and only ever met 3 nurses and no doctors/surgeons who could successfully bandage my stump in a way that the bandage would even stay on. This is because stumps are usually tapered in shape (meaning they are wider at the top, closer to the body, and thinner at the bottom), so gravity will pull the bandage off 9 times out of 10.

On a final note: it's ok to show your amputee's stump, it's not gore, there's no blood, it just looks like a regular limb that just stops early. In fact, if you are writing/creating anything for kids or that is likely to be seen by kids, I encourage you to show your amputee's stumps at least once. I used to work on a disability awareness program for kids, and I lost count of the amount of times kids were terrified of me, because they all expected my leg to be bloody and gory. For a lot of kids, I was their first real-life exposure to an amputee, meaning they'd never even heard of people like me, or they had seen an amputee on TV, but because the show went out of its way to avoid showing the person's stump, they assumed it must have been because there was "something scary at the end" that they weren't supposed to see (kids are surprisingly perceptive, they will pick up on stuff like that without you realising). And scared kids aren't good at articulating why they're scared, and would often say really mean or hurtful things to me. I knew not to take it personally and learned how to handle those situations, but not everyone is used to dealing with kids. For a new amputee (or anyone who's less confident in their disability), the kinds of things those kids would say could be absolutely confidence destroying. I never blame the kids, it's not their fault, but the whole situation could have been avoided if they had seen people like us before they had the chance to hear the wrong info. Good representation like this can be the difference between a kid crying, making throw-up sounds and calling an amputee "disgusting monsters" (all things I've had kids do/say) and them just being like "oh ok, cool."

[bwobgames]

“Woah… a real ghost…”

“You seem well educated, why are you scared of ghosts? Or even believe in them?”

“Well, its hard not to! Everyone says they are real and scary!”

“Also, ugh, I was forced to tell you sorry for being ‘creepy’ or whatever. I’m not creepy though!”

“It’s normal for girls to look at other girls and appreciate how attractive they are!”

“It’s true, I was the same at your age. Comes in every girl’s life”

She ignores the fact that she is married to a woman.

“But at the end you end up with a guy regardless, yeah?”

“…Maybe”

“I’ll have to end up with Fede, which is kinda gross but I’ll get over it probably”

“Wh- What do you mean you ‘have’ to? Is someone forcing you to marry him?”

“No, no, it’s not like, planned or anything, it’s just…”

“We know each other for a long time, and our parents know each other for a long time and are good friends and they love to say we’re like a couple and plan stuff for when 'our families become one' and …”

“I’m not like, being forced to marry him or anything but like. Seems like things are heading that way”

“It wouldn’t be awful really, he’s my friend so we already get along, And! I get to stay at home all day while he fucks around in his dad’s business! I’ll be set for life!”

“And then what”

“Huh?”

“Once you achieve the life of your dreams, the perfect life”

“What comes next?”

“Uh. Kids?”

“Would that make it better?”

“Well, I wouldn’t get bored with kids…”

“And you’ll be happy with that?”

“Of course! It’s the dream! Everyone wants that!”

She’s right, of course. Anyone would want that life.

The correct life.

The one she’s been following, set for her, sacrificed for her.

Her parents might’ve been strict, but they taught her well, she will never fault her for doing what they thought would make her happy.

(But did they ever really do it for me?)

They taught her to take shortcuts, to cut all possible loses, to cut the floor beneath another person if necessary, to lie, to cheat.

To live with the sacrifices of others.

To love numbers, to live numbers, to see people as numbers.

To recognize the opportunity of a lifetime when it’s presented to her.

She could always recognize people like her by the way they smile.

Too perfect, too controlled. Too aware of their teeth.

Unlike her uncle’s smile. Yellow and crooked. Unbothered.

She was not unhappy, by all means she cannot say she was miserable.

Having high quality health care at her hand is more than most of the population could ever wish for. Not having to worry to survive until the next pay is a relief as well.

She is with her best friend, working together, being successful.

She has reached the top.

But she’s hungry.

She can differentiate right from wrong, she has let her family into an idyllic state of never worrying about money again. She is what everyone desires.

So there must be something deeply wrong when she’s still hungry

A hunger that is only satiated when she brushes her own hair. When she chooses her own clothes. When she’s in charge of decisions. When she can stand her ground in an argument.

A hunger that only grows with every stolen glance, with small touches, with an unbothered smile, an understanding voice.

Something that beckons to her to run away, to forget everything and start anew, to call her uncle and finally have that camping trip he offered. To say No to the ring.

But she can’t.

Because it’s not right.

It’s not what’s supposed to happen. It’s not what’s supposed to make her happy. It’s what she was taught. It’s what made her who she is.

It’s what everyone says.

And they’re all full of shit.

“I don’t think you’d be wrong to share the rest of your life with your friend, as long as you keep things as they are”

“Forcing yourself to a role you didn’t ask for is… detrimental in the long run”

“You’re young, surely someone as tenacious as you won’t bend down to the whims of some old rich guys, yeah?”

“Huh…?”

“You’ll get it when you’re older. I know you got a heart in there somewhere”

“I know it wants more than what they can offer.”

“Oh, it’s dinner time. Let’s go. It’s rude to keep people waiting”

“Wuh, uh ah, yes!”

Sometimes she really wishes things were different.

That she didn’t make so many mistakes.

That she noticed the lie sooner.

She grieves her youth.

<-PREV START NEXT->

[caspertheloudassghost]

I was sleeping and right before my alarm went off I dreamt of a scene where some hotshot demonic cultivator sends a message to Cang Qiong asking to spar and speak with the sects “resident expert on demonic cultivation” with the implication that it’s a peak lord and the peak lord meeting has them asking who tf that could be and tossing around various ideas while YQY and SQQ avoid each others gazes

(Unnamed shidi 1-adopted but raised with demonic ancestry; SQH-trades in demonic realm and has a secret demon lover he sneaks into the sect [HOW DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT?!]; LQG-expert on fighting demonic anything; MQF-regularly treats demonic afflictions and as such is the most researched on how it works)

In the dream I was so sure SQQ would reveal himself/declare he’d be the one to deal with it but awake I’m convinced he’d keep silent, so everyone has to go and meet the DC cuz they aren’t letting anyone go alone who knows what he plans to do

Anywho post dream territory but the day comes and SQQ is half convinced he’s about to be thrown out of the sect

DC: I’m looking for WYZ’s successor, Xiao Jiu

Everyone slowly turns to look at SQQ cuz by now everyone’s heard the sect leader call him that (insert theory that the Shen in his name was picked up soon after WYZ was killed. Like, on the way to meet the previous peak lords kinda soon and possibly stolen from one of the dead disciples)

SQQ steps forward with everyone’s gazes on him, seething (how dare he use that name) and keyed up from the last month of spiraling, deciding to out with a bang: successor! What fucking successor? To be such would imply the bastard taught me anything and even worse to suggest that I continued using it

DC: then how’d you know all his newly developed techniques? Like, you’ve definitely been seen using them when he trained you

SQQ: he didn’t train me in shit I was his lab rat he used to see if something would kill him before trying himself

Anywho, I have a lot of points that I wanna fit into this but idk where they’d go

Righteous cultivation is the growing of internal energy usually by advancing yourself in some way (physically, spiritually, mentally) and at points letting environmental energy pass around you, whereas Demonic cultivation is from siphoning of energy external to yourself, much faster but much more draining to your environment and others. Usually incompatible with human cultivation bases due to a lack of central, inborn demonic core causing most demonic cultivators to end up going insane from the patchwork of energies with no central focus.

Because of this any who stay somewhat sane gain a lot of power and recognition

WYZ theorized that if you were to steal a demonic core and consume it, you could solve the issue of energy focus. He used SJ to test this theory and found that it created a pseudo demon. The more SJ cultivated demonically, the more demonic features he presented.

SQQ has mysteriously never once gone to Qian Cao Peak. Not during his discipleship and definitely not during his tenure as peak lord. MQF hasn’t realized this cuz SQQ keeps sneaking in and fudging the papers.

His Shizun believed SJ was part demon and brought him into the sect as part test and part curiosity. They may or may not have also mildly experimented on him, but at least they helped him avoid qian cao

Eventually his Shizun came to the conclusion that he’s the only one on the peak with common sense and any strategic ability, so he became head disciple

SQQ is aware that his qi deviations are mostly due to having a demonic foundation and spending years trying to feed it with traditional cultivation. Not sure if this means he has a really tiny golden core or a really poorly fed demonic one or both at once like a half demon. I’m leaning towards both cuz of QJ Shizun experimentation

SQQ has retractable claws (he keeps them retracted and hidden under thick gloves), sharp teeth he must file down (they fall out after a year and the next set grow back sharper, during this time he almost always has his face covered by a fan), a deep-set craving for meat (and QJ serves only vegetarian food), and his ears have a slight point and rest slightly higher on his head than with human faces (he’s pretty sure they keep moving slightly higher each year to become like fox ears, like the fox core he consumed. He hates how it still affects him even without active demonic cultivation. He hides the ears with elaborate hairstyles and mourns his old body)

The other peak lords see his fan as him hiding his intentions from them and not showing his face as hiding dishonesty. The gloves are a testament to his refusal to touch what’s below him. His insistence on eating meat based foods at PL meetings emphasize his delicate constitution. His increasingly elaborate hairstyles display his arrogance for all to see. Listen they already think he’s a spoiled young lord the increased distance caused by his weird cultivation doesn’t help

SQQ wins the spar with the demonic cultivator with ease even when using only demonic cultivation techniques 15 years out of practice.

PLs are surprised to see the other DC fights exactly like SJ did when he first entered the sect (ruthless no holds barred street fighting. Daggers and concealed weapons of any kind other than spiritual swords. Plucking leaves flying flowers is used and now clearly seen as a demonic technique. SQQs fan blades are sharpened. Dust is thrown in eyes and joints are snapped and male parts are targeted.) They can easily see where SQQ must have learned it if that’s how all demonic cultivators fought (like demons). Even if they despise the lack of honor in this fight, at least it’s mutual

At some point during the fight SQQs more demonic traits are revealed (his hair coming undone to reveal his ears, sharp teeth on display, claws having long since torn through his gloves

Most demonic cultivators are self taught through trial and error and rarely have the privilege of learning to fight from masters. Additionally, due to their tendency to go insane, it’s common for most interactions between DCs to turn deadly at any point, so experienced DCs have no room for error or leniency. Fights are determined when one is trapped and begging for their life, and the other decides whether to spare them.

DC was not expecting the QJ PL to be this good, WYZs disciple or no

SQQ states that he was not WYZs disciple and reminds DC that he was the one who killed WYZ

DC asks why and SQQ explains that the three reasons he stayed with WYZ were a)blackmail, b)fear for his life, and c)to find his brothers remains and put him to rest. Imagine his surprise when he finds his brother doing perfectly well in a cultivation sect and WYZ about to kill him. Suddenly points b and c are irrelevant and point a is only removed upon WYZs death so it wasn’t a hard choice

The two walk to a nearby pavilion to discuss techniques and trade stories, with equal parts sarcasm, insults, and laughter

DCs are usually quite willing to trade less personal techniques outside of battle due to the “self taught” aspect of their cultivation

Somehow they end up talking about how brothels are safe spaces for DCs as they are great sources of information and less likely to call the Xianxia cops than inns

PLs are in the background shocked the two could go from a death match to the friendliest conversation they’ve ever seen SQQ display. YQY is salty and guilty in equal parts. LQG somehow comes to the conclusion that all of his and SQQs early interactions were actually SQQ trying to be friendly. SHQ sees this revelation play out in real time and points out that the murder attempt was a misunderstanding. QQQ is begrudgingly impressed to see prissy SQQ so willing to get down and dirty. MQF has been quietly having a crisis at the quality of his work to never realize this and comes to the realization that he’s never personally examined SQQ

MQF comes over and insists on checking over SQQ, who basically goes “fuck it. Sure” and all of my initial bullet points come to light

Everyone loses their shit finding out that SQQ is apparently famous among the DC community due to being the mad lad ex slave who not only convinced WYZ to take on a disciple, but also the one to kill that bastard.

End conclusion SQQ gains a DC friend and the other PLs agree to that as enrichment and stress relief for SQQ.

[kiana12113]

Hiii! Are you able to do some Kieran Duffy HC's?? Any kind is fine with me whatever you're comfortable with!! Love your writing btw 🤭

꒰ KIERAN DUFFY HEADCANNONS ꒱

It is my pleasure!!! I love this man. I wish he had more interactions. Thank you, too! I’m currently giddy over your compliment,, i probably won’t think about anything else for a few days XD i hope you’ll enjoy this. ♡´ ³`)ﾉ

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Death

Word count: 1.8k

Kieran Duffy who thinks you were joking with him when you offered him a drink during Sean’s return party. The man’s always been on his guard, and rarely anyone came to talk to him for his mere company — always only endlessly spewing insults at him. So his eyes widen, and the saddle held in his hands are gripped ever so slightly. Kieran’s voice is thick and laced with uncertainty and insecurity, finding it difficult to meet your eyes. The question hangs in the air, like a thick smoke. He does want to have a drink with you, he does want to talk with you, he really does. But it’s hard at first.

Kieran Duffy who wishes to be seen truly a part of the gang, rather than being seen as dead weight. Despite yearning this, he finds himself with conflicted emotions. While Kieran is away with the gang’s horses, he mumbles to them like true friends who understand his predicament. He can’t help but partially avoid everyone else, but it doesn’t matter, since he’s convinced himself no one would come looking for him anyway.

Kieran Duffy who is not weak. He’s a strong man who manages to show his loyalty, who manages to find meaning in life even though his thoughts were eating him inside out, like his guts were being twisted and dug through a blade every night. He’s gone through so much — and yet he’s standing. Yes, he’s scared — but he won’t run away. He wishes redemption, he wishes to prove himself at least once in this life. He’s worthy.

Kieran Duffy who talks to you first in the morning. “Good morning,” He says with a slight crack in his voice — hoping you didn’t notice. It’s like a little achievement for him, and after you return the greeting, your voice echoes in his mind like a broken record.

Kieran Duffy who, despite being the horse head, gets nervous around your horse. His hands are gentle, soft, afraid he’d do something he didn’t mean to it.

Kieran Duffy who is suddenly aware of every thing that you do with him. The eye contact, the brushing of finger tips when you pass him a bowl of soup, the simple phrases of gratitude and bid farewells. He always thought your voice was softer than anyone else’s, like it was sweet as sugar. And this time, it’s become a little louder than the others, like his ears have filtered it specifically.

Kieran Duffy who stutters when pronouncing your name, so he opts to call you “miss” and “ma’am” instead. He practices saying your name by himself, nervously chuckling after some success. When he does try it, faced with you, he’s met with utter failure, again. He’d like to say it, however, his tongue seems to just tangle every time the first syllable even comes close to leaving his lips. He’ll have to practice some more.

Kieran Duffy who stands there, still and unmoving, when you call him “sir”. He figures it must be a response to the excuse that he’s been calling you, and he can’t help but get embarassed.

Kieran Duffy who laughs nervously when you’re around, trying his best to make the conversation interesting. When the topic switches to horses, the man’s eyes light up and you can’t help but appreciate the rare moment of his genuine smile as he gets to express himself. “Oh, I-I ain’t talking too much, am I?”

Kieran Duffy who is shaky and gentle. His eyes are big and fixed on you, while his lower lip quivers ever so slightly. He tries to be careful around you, always worried he’d mess something up.

Kieran Duffy who is admittedly pathetic, always finding any excuse to be with you. “So,” “The… The weather’s nice, huh?” It’s raining heavily.

Kieran Duffy who’s a sucker and a complete mush of nothingness when you come to fix his hat, collar, scarf, you name it. It’s an intimate gesture for him that makes him suddenly feel so warm. You’re in front of him and so focused, and he feels like all your attention is pouring down on him, and him alone.

Kieran Duffy who’s got a little crush, and is beating himself up for it. He feels stupid, acting like a lovesick fool. But he can’t help it. He gets confused, too, the way you’re acting doesn’t seem to be only mere friendliness.

Kieran Duffy who finally feels wanted, and finally feels like someone’s cared for him and his wellbeing. He first feels this when you notice his snuffy nose and weak movements. “Sir, you’re sick.” You say with mellowness. “Ah— I ain’t, miss. I’m jus’ a little tired, sure,” He protests, but the next moment he’s burning up with a fever. You feel it on the back of your hand, pressing against his forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you some medicine.” He wonders if he should be sick more often.

Kieran Duffy who feels like he’s been standing his whole life, and he finally sat down the moment he’s met you.

Kieran Duffy who blurts out something stupid, his nerves getting to him. “Yer real sweet to me, ya know. I—I never been treated so good.” Then he sheepishly looks away, scratching his nape in awkwardness. “…Oh, you’ve really done it this time, Kieran Duffy.” He says to himself, barely above a whisper. “I— sorry, I didn’t…” He stumbles, struggling to form coherent sentences to save what’s left of his dignity. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Kieran. You’re sweeter.” You didn’t have to tug his heart like that.

Kieran Duffy who sees a white daisy and thinks of you. He approaches your relaxed figure, twirling it between his thumbs and index. It’s small, stupid, but he decides to give it you anyway. “Here, uh. Put it there.” He gently sways the strands of hair in your face, tucking it behind your ears alongside the daisy. “Beautiful…” He whispers.

Kieran Duffy who’s patient. Who waits. But misses you when you’re away. He finds himself distracted, a little more clumsy, a little more lonely. “Get yer head out of the clouds, Kieran,” Arthur says when he passes by. “Of—Of course, sir…” And he chuckles. “[Reader]’s gonna come back in a bit.”

Kieran Duffy who talks to Branwen about you, how much you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger. He brushes the mane of his horse, all the while mumbling about how you asked him if he’s eaten already today. “Ain’t that jus’… real kind of her, right, boy?”

Kieran Duffy who isn’t sure what you two are. You were still an enigma to him, a mystery — despite spending so much time with you, he’s unsure about what you treat him as. Kieran is observant, but apparently not with you. He wants you to mean what you say, when you call him sweet. He wants you to mean what you do, when you rest your head on his shoulder. He wants you to mean it. To love him as much as he loves you. But you two weren’t really anything, no. It confuses the mind, hurts the heart.

Kieran Duffy who’s thoughts are proved wrong when you lightly cup his jaw with your soft fingers. He’s become frozen, feeling a coldness come up his back. It’s quick, like a peck, your kiss. It’s warm, too, your lips. Kieran stays incredibly still, sighing softly on your mouth with surprise. “Wait, no… Do it again, [Reader].” He asked benignly, saying your name with tenderness.

Kieran Duffy who’s in a relationship. And he has no clue what he’s doing. But he tries his best, and that’s what matters. It’s something he thinks about in the night, when he’s restless. He can’t believe it, truly. You deserve better. And when he says this, you answer without a thought, “I only want you.” it’s a great feeling.

Kieran Duffy who holds your hand first. It’s hesitant, slow, when he opens his hand and his palm sits closely next to you. He’s quiet, but he wishes you’ll notice the gesture. And when you take his hand and intertwine it with his, he feels like the luckiest man to live.

Kieran Duffy who’s beard has become your fingers’ favorite place to caress. He melts away, feeling on cloud nine, his heartbeat quickening every second. You stare at him with that look in your eyes, twinkling and full of admiration. “[Reader].” “Yes?” “Nuthin’.”

Kieran Duffy who doesn’t know how charmed you are with him. He thinks he’s a wreck and a total failure, but you could only wish he’d see himself as you saw him. The way he would shyly avert his gaze after calling you “sweetheart”, the way he would fiddle with the hem of his shirt when he gives you a compliment.

Kieran Duffy who says “I love you” during vulnerable, quiet moments with you. It doesn’t swing off his tongue casually, as it feels like a pure and strong statement for him. Although every time he’d say it, it would always be filled with pure intentions and love.

Kieran Duffy who smiles stupidly and shyly after being kissed. He’d become weak in the knees. But the man is eager, and he leans in to kiss you again softly.

Kieran Duffy who needs your constant reassurance, despite not being very vocal about his needs.

Kieran Duffy who’s caught daydreaming about settling down, living with you, running away. He sits near the campfire, all alone, and he thinks, and thinks, and thinks. If only it were that easy, he would have gone and married you a long time ago. He’d imagine a wedding, not quite lavish, even if nobody was there but you. Your hands filled with flowers, a bouquet, wearing something in white. Oh, how he wished his life was of a normal man.

Kieran Duffy who doesn’t even get to propose to you. Kieran Duffy who dies with a ring in his pocket. It’s hidden, kept away like a small treasure, tucked soundly, waiting to be placed in your finger. He dies all alone, and thinking about how it could’ve ended differently. How he’d be leaving you.

Kieran Duffy who will find you in every universe, kiss your knuckles, and be the same man every time.

Kieran Duffy who loves you so much, more than you will ever know.

[maculategiraffe]

for the longest time I didn't know what was up with anybody in my family, and then I figured out my sister and I and my dad all have adhd but I still didn't know what was up with my mom, and then my sister said she thought our mom and I were both autistic and I spent awhile considering that, and now I must say I think all four of us are autistic AND have adhd, and furthermore I also think all my aunts and uncles and cousins are autistic and have adhd, and the three of my late grandparents I ever met were all definitely autistic also. probably my dad's mom was too but I never met her because she self medicated so heavily her whole life with booze and cigarettes and benzodiazepenes and probably like seconal and nembutal that she died pretty young. also steve is definitely autistic and I strongly suspect both his parents are

unfortunately my mom starts shrieking and throwing chairs (metaphorically. mostly. although she did once drop kick a toaster) if anyone ever floats the idea that anyone she has ever met might be autistic, so her internalized self loathing is still firmly in place and the idea that the baby might have similar neurological tendencies to literally every single one of his known genetic forebears is freaking her the fuck out because it's "mean" to "accuse" someone of being autistic. because apparently it's NOT mean to make a person feel like they're failing the Last Judgement anytime they say or do anything, and refuse to consider that there might be any reasons for a person acting in any way she deems eccentric besides the person just being too lazy or wilfully perverse to put in the effort to Be Normal.

but my mom is also aware on some level that she is not normal, and also thinks that it's because she is lazy and perverse and not making enough of an effort, which means she resents herself as much as she resents the rest of us, and refuses to contemplate figuring out what would actually make her happy because the fact that she's not happy the way she's living means there's something wrong with her. because she is living the right and normal way to live. so stop saying anything is wrong because only an abnormal person would say that and (gripping a wineglass so hard it shatters) nobody in this family is abnormal.

I obviously can't fix her but it makes me feel so much better just to understand where all her constant nonsense is coming from. she'll start bitching about somebody on TV doing something stupid that's going to get him in trouble and she goes-- at this absolute edge of nervous breakdown pitch, I cannot describe the hysterical rage that is barely contained in her chest when she says something like this, nobody would act like this. nobody would do this. and I'm like sure they would and she's like NO THEY WOULDN'T and I'm like ...oh, oh yeah, the hyperempathy thing. she identifies so strongly with every person before her, even the fictional ones, that it's like physically painful to see them make decisions she wouldn't make. just like it is to see me and my sister making decisions she wouldn't make and leading lives she wouldn't lead. so instead of going "oh! I would never!" she's got to go NOBODY IN THIS WORLD WOULD EVER. THAT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN. EVERYONE IS NORMAL OR ELSE THEY ARE NOT REAL.

it's just a really good perspective to have. like... I get it now. that's really all that's changed but it feels like a lot. that I get it now.

[thepersialionheart]

My first and (probably) only headcanon for haikyuu is that no one can tell if Kageyama and Hinata are dating or not.

This is something which has most likely been said before but I still want to add onto it.

Are they Flirting or fighting? No one knows. There have definitely been fists involved and one time Ennoshita may have hallucinated when he heard Kageyama whisper that he was going to have his way with Hinata once they were alone. Maybe it just meant that they were going to fight more, that Kageyama was furious with Hinata and wanted to give him a piece of his mind, so the team were now all on watch duty until the end of the day, always making sure Hinata and Kageyama were never alone.

At the end of the day, before anyone could say anything, the two bolted out of the door and ran off without more than a quick "bye".

(They ignored the frustrated glares both Kageyama and Hinata gave them during the day. They definitely ignored the suspiciously placed bruises on each of their necks the next day. They must have fought a bit too much.)

A bet has been going round the Volleyball teams about whether or not they are together. A bet which Yachi and Kiyoko started amongst the Karasuno players and then the managers of other teams. Except, the players of their teams caught onto it and it has been going strong, even after Hinata went to Brazil. Especially after the Adlers vs Jackals match where most people decided against it.

(It is suspected that Yachi actually knows whether or not they are dating, but no one has gotten her to crack just yet. From the way she smirks whenever someone asks, no one will anytime soon.)

Oikawa is firmly against it, not because he doesn't believe they could ever be together, but because they are both idiots who don't know anything more than volleyball (and each other). Some agree with him.

Kenma is one of the ones who have put his money (and a lot of it) on them being together. There is too much chemistry between the two idiots that even they couldn't ignore.

There's another bet amongst the ones who bet for them being together. When they got together. Kenma says since the end of first year. He seems to know something the orhers don't know. Bokuto likes to think that they confessed just before Hinata went to Brazil and became long distance star crossed lovers. (Akaashi told him to stop being stupid (and then bet alongside Kenma)).

Surprisingly Tsukki is the one to bet on them being together since after the first training camp.

Yachi stayed out of this one. (She knew. She definitely knew.)

Yet even when Hinata and Kageyama become aware of the bets (actually they have been aware of them for years but they won't mention that just yet) they just shrug their shoulders and tells whoever is asking, "We're partners. Even when we're not on the same team."

Oikawa decided to shift his money to the other side, betting that they got together after the Adlers vs Jackals match.

But it was still unclear.

Even when Kageyama and Hinata moved in together, when people stayed over they thought it was just courtesy that one of them would give up their room and bunk with the other. Even when they touched or fought playfully, the others couldn't tell if that was actual affection or just Kageyama and Hinata being Kageyama and Hinata.

It took winning an olympic gold medal together for the truth to finally come out. After the Japan team won, everyone was on a high. In the heat of the moment, Hinata and Kageyama drew each other in for a bone crushing hug, whispering sweet nothings to each other as tears of joy spilt out of both of their eyes.

Their foreheads touched. Suddenly, it was like the entire court was quiet. It wasn't long before lips met and cheers erupted around them.

In an interview later, the both of them would be asked about their relationship.

"We've always been partners. We just thought it was time the rest of the world knew."

The only problem now was, when asked about when or how they got together, both Kageyama and Hinata would be vague. Perhaps they would mention a detail about how they confessed to each other. Yet, no one could tell when exactly it happened.

What they did let people know was that Oikawa was most definitely wrong about his guess and he could go suck it for thinking they were idiots who would take so long to realise their feelings for each other.

[girlgenius1111]

learn your lesson

part 2 to worry about them

it appears that you haven't learned your lesson about training while sick, much to your teammates frustration. they are determined to get to the bottom of it.

platonic barca x reader

The team was confident that you'd learned your lesson. You waited as long as the doctor had told you to wait before returning, and once you promised everyone that you were feeling 100% better, they let you return to practice.

The issue was, you didn't feel completely better. Improved, yes. You likely needed a few more days rest. The doctor had cleared you though. The team needed you. Surely they couldn't be mad now. You weren't defying the doctor's orders, and you were well enough to practice, you thought.

You made it through one entire practice back, ignoring your teammates requests that you take it slow. You weren't weak. You were better now, you could handle this. Post training, though, you no longer felt better. In fact, you felt the worst you'd felt since falling ill. And, to top it all off, you weren't hiding it very well. You were sat on the bench in front of your locker, drinking water, pretty sure that if you stood, your legs would give out from under you. You planned to wait until the room stopped spinning, until your head stopped pounding, to shower. Hopefully, the locker room would be more cleared out by then.

You were really out of it, almost going limp into Ingrid's side when she came to stand next to you, studying you for a minute, before pulling you up and out of the locker room. She brought you into a recovery room down the hall, pushing you to sit in a chair. She felt your forehead, a disapproving look on her face already. You were delirious at this point, not really understanding what you were doing in this room when you were meant to be getting ready to go home.

"Need to shower," you grumbled, trying to force your eyes to focus on Ingrid, crouched in front of you. She ignored you, typing something on her phone.

"Ingrid, I need to shower," you tried again, attempting to stand. You sat back down when she glared at you.

"You need to get your temperature down. Y/n, you promised us that you were better. What were you thinking?"

"M'fine. M'not weak," you said tears gathering in your eyes. You needed her to know. When she didn't say anything, you continued. "Ingrid, I'm not weak, I made it through practice, I didn't let the team down," you insisted.

Ingrid looked heartbroken at your words, and you weren't quite sure why. You were still fighting to keep your eyes open, your head felt too heavy, and your body shook with chills. Ingrid disappeared briefly, as Alexia threw the door open thunderous expression on her face. Ingrid stopped her before she could begin scolding you, though.

"Ale, calm down first, she's really out of it," Ingrid murmured, nodding at you. Alexia was prepared to yell, but the sight of you, disoriented and tearful, took that urge away instantly.

"Nena," she sighed, moving closer.

You saw Alexia taking Ingrid's spot in front of you and realized she must have entered the room, not having heard the door open.

"Ale, I tried to do it all, I really did, I didn't mean to let you down," you cry. Alexia stood, pulling your seated form into a hug.

"No, nena, no, you didn't let anyone down, not at all. It's okay, it's all okay, lets just get you home." Alexia soothed, and you nod into her. She exchanges a troubled look with Ingrid, aware that something, though she wasn't quite sure what, was going on with you, and needed to be addressed.

-----

It's later that day when you wake up, actually aware of your surroundings this time. You have faint memories of coming home from practice, and Ingrid and Alexia getting you into bed, but that's pretty much where it ends. It's dark out, though, and a decent amount of time has clearly passed.

"Pequeña, how are you feeling?" Came a voice from the edge of the bed. Alexia was sitting there, looking down at you.

"Okay," you responded shakily. It was a lie, and you both knew it.

"Y/n." Alexia said warningly.

"Not great" you replied, and she nodded. You sat up, getting a grip on everything that didn't feel good, before Alexia began what you assumed to be the lecture to end all lectures.

"You had a really high fever after practice. You had no business training today, y/n, and we asked you, so many times, if you were up for it. I don't understand." Alexia said softly. You would have a expected a scolding tone to accompany these words, but Alexia was oozing kindness, softness, as if she just wanted to know what was going on with you.

You ignore her statement. "No overbearing teammates today? Just you?" You ask, referencing the lack of Lucy, Ingrid and Irene who had practically broken in when you'd gotten sick at first, and barely left until you were better.

Alexia shook her head. "No. I thought it would be better if we had this conversation just us."

"What conversation?" You asked hesitantly.

"Do you remember anything you said to Ingrid and me after training?" Alexia asked, instead of answering your question.

You shook your head. "Whatever I said, I was just out of it," you say, trying to take back whatever you had let slip.

"You kept saying that you weren't weak, that you'd finished training, and you had tried not to let the team down." Alexia stated, saying the words as though they physically caused her pain.

"Well. I did, didn't I. I tried not to let you guys down, it just didn't work. I wasn't strong enough." You reply miserably, looking out the window instead of at your captain.

"I don't understand where this is coming from. Have we made you feel like you would be letting us down if you were sick? Or that we'd think you weak if you couldn't play?" Alexia questioned.

"No one made me feel like that, Ale, that's just how it is."

"No. It isn't. None of us feel that way. We're upset because you trained sick, again. Not because you're still sick. Not because you didn't train the way you normally do."

You're quiet, and still won't meet her eyes. Alexia reached out, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

"Nena, I want to help, I want to understand. Can you try to explain to me what you were thinking?"

You can't. You have no explanation you want to give. All you want is to go back to sleep, but Alexia won't leave until she has some answers, that you know. Alexia switches tactics.

"What happened on your last team when you would get sick?" She asked carefully. Her perceptiveness shouldn't surprise you, but it always does.

"I would play." Your reply is automatic, and somewhat robotic.

"Even if you were really sick?"

You nod.

"Do you think that was okay? Them making you train when you were sick?" Alexia is filled with anger at the thought, of your previous coaches caring so little for your wellbeing, that they convinced you you needed to train, to put the team first.

"Alexia, I'm not weak. I can handle training while I'm sick, it's not that big of a deal. The team is the most important thing," you explain. It's about the 10th time you've said the words 'I'm not weak' today, and Alexia hates that you feel like you have to convince her of that. She hates everything about what you just said, really.

"The team is important, sí, but your health and safety are more important. You should not, under any circumstances, train when you are ill. Not with us, not with anyone. Do you understand?"

"But I'm just... me. The team is the team, how am I more important than the team?" you ask, voice cracking on the last word, finally looking up at Alexia with watery eyes. Your captain's face falls at your words, and you want to take back what you said.

Alexia takes a deep breath before speaking, as if calming herself down. "You are just you, and you matter to all of us. More than winning games. You are important, y/n. Your wellbeing is important. We just want you to be okay, that's all we really care about. Winning is good, obviously, but you are more important."

You aren't sure that you believe her, honestly. You want to, really, but you can't wrap your head around the idea that the team cares that much about you. No one ever really had before, and it was a strange, unsettling feeling. You were used to having to earn care, to only being acknowledged when you excelled at something. This wasn't the case at Barca, but you hadn't realized how deep that ran.

"Nena?" Alexia prompted. You weren't sure what she wanted you to say.

"I just don't want to let anyone down," you say brokenly, and Alexia sighs roughly, wrapping you in a tight hug.

"You aren't letting anyone down, pequeña, I promise you that." You allow yourself to take big, deep breaths, trying to quell the sobs that are threatening to break free. Alexia allows you to sit in silence for a minute, before speaking again, keeping you tight against her.

"I understand if you don't believe that yet. Some things run really deep, and it's hard to change them. We aren't going to give up though, alright? We aren't ever going to give up on you, no matter how long it takes to convince you. You're worth the trouble, y/n, try to remember that."

You nod against her, pulling away to wipe the tears off your face.

"Thank you, capi." You say quietly, not exactly sure you could put how thankful for her you were into words.

"Anything for you, pequeña. Anything."

-----

not too sure how i feel about this, hope no one hates it 🤞

[onehundredthousandflies]

Another of Your Firsts

Spencer x Male!BAU!Reader (a few unavoidable uses of y/n, sorry)

Words: 1,204

Tagging @meiczyslaw-mccall by request.

CW: canon-typical violence, guns, reader gets non-lethally shot (in the arm), coming out, pet names (Spencer calls Reader "Honey"), secret relationship reveal, reader is gay, Spencer is bi, let me know if I missed anything

You and Spencer have kept your relationship a secret because Spencer wasn't ready to come out. That is, until the aftermath of a shootout with an unsub when Spencer lets something slip. Written with early-mid series Spencer in mind.

Click the Read More or read on A03.

"Once we get to the farm, Prentiss and I will take North barn," Hotch said, driving at full speed down the dirt road. "Reid, L/N, you two take the South. Morgan, Rossi, and JJ will take the main house, Officers Vick and Melendez will take the cellars."

You and Spencer, seated in the back seat of the SUV, nodded your response.

You chanced a quick look at Spencer and, for a moment, got lost in how handsome he looked when he was locked into full agent mode like this. The intense focus in his dark amber eyes, the way his kevlar vest hugged his slender frame, it made you fall in love all over again every time you looked at him.

You'd done well to keep your relationship a secret so far. Though most people, including everyone on the team, were aware that you were openly gay, Spencer wasn't out as bisexual to anyone but his mother. Though you felt disappointed at times when you couldn't hold his hand on the jet or kiss the top of his head when you brought him coffe the way you ached to, you respected him and had vowed to guard his closet door until he was ready.

Even so, Spencer let a subtle smile sneak across his lips when he caught you staring for longer than you'd meant to. His pinky finger ghosted across yours in the open seat between you, and you returned his smile.

The moment was broken when the SUV lurched to a stop. There would be time enough smile at your lover once this sadistic UNSUB was caught.

Your orders had already been given, so you took the lead, trusting Spencer to follow you to the barn.

Once there, you both took your positions on either side of the door.

"Lester Mills!" Spencer shouted. "FBI!"

When met with no response, he held his fingers up to count down to breach the door.

No sooner had he counted down once than a shotgun blast rang out from inside the barn. The old, brittle wood of the barn door broke apart in a flurry of splinters, and you both covered your faces with your arms. A second shot shattered the door entirely.

When you heard the shotgun cock for a third shot, you and Spencer both darted away from the door, each in opposite directions. You saw him duck behind a hay bale while you took shelter behind the ruins if an old pickup truck.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you filed this away on a list of all of yours and Spencer's firsts. First date, first kiss, first night spent together, and now your first shootout together. This first was far from romantic, though. Your heart pounded in your chest for a much different reason when Lester Mills stepped out of the barn and pointed his shotgun at the hay bale Spencer was behind.

You couldn't see Spencer, but you heard him fire his revolver. The shot must have missed, because Lester's shot came shortly after.

Seeing a window of opportunity while the suspect had his back turned, you quickly stood and fired, but he turned around just as you pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew past his head. He cocked his gun and fired again, this time in your direction, but you ducked down just in time...

Or so you thought.

It didn't register immediately. You were too focused on counting the shots: the unsub had fired four times from what was likely a five-shot shotgun. He had one round left. You had nine and Spencer had five.

Spencer had four, because you heard another revolver shot, followed by a scream and the clattering of a gun falling to the ground.

By this time, the others had made it to the barn. They were just in time to find the unsub gripping the gunshot wound to his right arm.

"Lester Mills," you barely heard Hotch say over the ringing in your ears and hammering in your chest, "You're under arrest for the murders of six men."

"Reid! L/N!" came Morgan's voice, but it sounded to your ears like it was under water.

You tried to sound off, but all that came out was a pained groan. That's when you finally really felt it: the fiery pain in your shoulder.

You dared to look down, and when you did, you saw the bright red bloodstain spreading out from your lower shoulder, as well as a small tear in the shoulder strap of your vest. A few pellets of buckshot had hit you in the left arm just to the left of your vest strap, and a few more had hit your vest.

Morgan found you first.

"I got L/N, we need medical!"

"Y/N!" Spencer shouted. He never called you by your first name at work, and you never called him Spencer. It was always L/N and Reid, purely professional.

Another of your firsts.

Spencer shoved his way past Morgan and dropped to his knees beside you. He pressed one hand to your wound and held your hand in the other.

"Y/N, Honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

"Wait, 'Honey?'" Morgan repeated. "Wait are you two..."

"Since when?" Prentiss asked, surprised but not judgemental.

"I really don't think that matters right now!" Spencer objected, gripping your hand tighter.

You, however, decided that, now that Spencer had slipped up and outed himself, it was time to be honest. "About five months."

"Five months and seventeen days, so almost six," Spencer clarified.

Morgan knelt down next to the two of you. "You know you guys could have told us. Hotch wouldn't have said anything about fraternization, and no one would have judged you. I mean, Kid," Morgan put his hand on Spencer's shoulder, "we didn't even know you were gay."

Spencer cleared his throat and looked down awkwardly. "I'm bi, actually."

"Is this really the time for label discourse?" you interrupted. "I'm bleeding over here."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Spencer kissed the top of your head and then pressed his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Shh, hey. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Eventually, the paramedics showed up, and Spencer held your hand while they bandaged your arm. You didn't want to go to the hospital, but Spencer insisted on making sure you were treated properly, and Hotch insisted on following protocol.

In the hours that followed, you and Spencer learned three things.

The first was that Hotch did, in fact, not care about fraternization policy. After everything the team had been through, denying them the right to love was something he saw no point in doing, so long as it didn't cause problems in the field.

The second was that Spencer had never had anything to fear when it came to coming out to the team. The reveal of your relationship was met with nothing but congratulations, support, and love (if not a few inappropriate questions from Morgan that earned him a slap in the back of the head from Rossi).

The third was that the best possible sleep on the jet was achieved with your head Spencer's lap.

[writingdevil]

Just read your opportunist x cold fanfic and woah… the angst potential. My eyes have been opened. Would you mind writing more of them pretty pleaseeee ❤️

(I'd love to! I wanted to add some more angst and hurt to my fics and I figured they'd be perfect for it, so enjoy!)

Cold wasn't the most attentive bird around, not unless something had truly caught his attention. He won't notice if one of the others are going through something, not unless he was already studying them to begin with.

He doesn't particularly care what way he comes off as. Cold knew he was who he was, and that was never going to change.

He was aware though, of someone who changed almost constantly-Opportunist.

Opportunist's personality seemed to be entirely different each day, depending on who he spoke to and what he wanted. Cold usually never entertained him much. It seemed like far too much effort to try and dig through all his masks to unveil the true Opportunist, so Cold never played along in his silly games.

But that was, until Cold realised how much he affected Opportunist.

Cold didn't realise it at first, but slowly and surely, during group conversations, Cold became acutely aware of how many times Opportunist sided with him.

He would roll up to him, swing an arm around Cold's shoulders, and would agree with whatever Cold brought to the discussion. Cold never cared to ask why, until he began to sense something.

The conversations were never anything serious-petty and ridiculous at best, but Cold would sometimes feel this sensation grazing against his skin, lingering right up until Cold lifted his head to try and figure out what it was. Then he found out that the culprit was Opportunist.

It was by pure luck that Cold managed to catch him, but during one of these conversations, Cold started to feel that sensation again, and he slowly lifted his gaze around the room, to find Opportunist staring at him.

Once he was caught though, the other swiftly twisted away and pushed himself back into the conversation, but there was no hiding from Cold anymore. He saw that look.

It was a look of pure desperation, of begging for something special, and that was when Cold realised that he felt Opportunist looking at him like that after Cold had spoken.

Was Opportunist looking for approval? Was he expecting Cold to be grateful that Opportunist sided with him?

It was so bizarre that Cold couldn't help but push it further.

One day, he was talking to Contrarian and trying to convince him to prank Stubborn for the fifth time this week. Stubborn was already waiting to snap-and if Contrarian knew that, then it must be bad.

At that moment, Opportunist chose to walk down that hallway, and now that Cold was paying attention, he could plainly see how Opportunist's dark gaze drastically brightened as he took in Cold.

"Ah, hello gentlemen! What are we talking about today?" Opportunist asked, inserting himself into the conversation easily, but for once, Cold didn't mind.

"Could you actually settle something for us?" Cold asked, keeping his voice as monotone as possible, but he was secretly intrigued to see how this would go.

He gestured towards Contrarian, who looked none the wiser, and if Cold had the capacity to care, he'd almost feel sorry for inflicting this upon the other bird. "I was trying to convince Contrarian that Stubborn needed to relax, and that he should help with that."

Understanding dawned on Opportunist's face at what he meant. Everyone knew how Contrarian liked to make others relax and feel better, even if it didn't work most of the time.

Opportunist tilted his head in Cold's direction, giving nothing away on his face when in front of Contrarian, and asked, "You think that would be a good idea?"

All Cold had to do was nod, and then Opportunist was spinning to face Contrarian at a breakneck speed, practically beaming at the other as he said, "Oh, well then I don't see why you shouldn't! I don't think there's anyone more capable of cheering people up than you."

Cold saw the nervous look Contrarian was wearing, still on the fence about whether he should go through with it, and Opportunist casually added with a shrug, "Or you don't have to. Nobody would be surprised if you didn't."

Then Cold had the pleasure of seeing Contrarian's face shift from nervous to determined-the thought of being predictable overpowering his common sense-and he instantly dashed away without even sparing either of them a goodbye.

That was definitely going to cause a ruckus later. But more importantly, now that they were alone, Cold had the chance to nudge Opportunist with a wing and softly say, "Thank you," as if the gesture actually meant a lot to him.

But then Cold got to witness how much Opportunist glowed under his praise, and he even seemed to stand up straighter, a starved look in his eyes that he didn't even try to hide.

Opportunist wanted Cold's attention and praise. That's what this was about.

Something dark and powerful came over Cold in that moment-the fact that he had this effect on Opportunist by doing the bare minimum to him. Part of him wanted to know why, but that would take the fun out of it, so he didn't bother thinking about why too much.

Especially when an hour later, they all saw Hero tending to Contrarian, who had his arm broken by Stubborn. Cold glanced at Opportunist and-try as he might to hide it- he saw a flicker of guilt on the other's face, and Cold knew that this was going to be really fun.

So Cold kept doing it.

He kept asking Opportunist to do little things for him-sometimes to the flock's misfortune-and he would reward Opportunist with either a thank you, a smile, or even a touch on the shoulder, if he wanted to be thoroughly amused that day.

Opportunist ate his attention up like a starved animal, having no shame or self respect in the slightest, it seemed.

The most amusing part of all this though, was whenever the consequences impacted another flockmate, and the result was usually negative.

Opportunist would stare at the results of his actions, his drive to do whatever Cold wanted of him. He would take in how he hurts his flock, whether physically or emotionally, feel guilty, and then come crawling back to Cold for validation.

It was baffling. It was twisted. It was exhilarating.

To think that he had this much power over someone, who let themselves be pulled along like a toy-the idea was almost laughable, but that's what was currently happening.

Opportunist tended to stick to Cold now, thinking that they were closer, and Cold suddenly got the urge to see what Opportunist was like when there was nobody else around to witness them. He wanted to see how far he could push him.

He stopped and looked down at Opportunist, making the other pause and glance up at him in confusion-and Cold gave no warning as he shoved Opportunist against a wall and loomed over him.

"What are you-" Cold shut him up easily by grabbing at his chest feathers, almost pulling him closer.

Cold watched the way Opportunist's eyes widened in both fear and glee, his breath hitching at their close proximity, and Cold could even feel his feathers puffing up beneath his fingers.

Cold pressed their bodies closer, and Opportunist shook in anticipation, gazing up at him in desperation, as if waiting for Cold to finally make a move.

Cold wasn't sure if Opportunist was in love with him, or just wanted to be in Cold's good graces. It didn't really matter in the end-he was still shamelessly begging for attention either way.

Cold leaned his head closer to Opportunist, who's eyes were clouded over now, and Opportunist was probably expecting a reward for all his hard work, to make all the harm he caused the flock worth it.

But when Cold's lips was inches away from the other's, he suddenly paused-and chuckled.

The feeling of Opportunist freezing beneath him was very satisfying, and Cold looked into his eyes, eyes that were usually scheming, but were now just left wanting. Opportunist wanted Cold so badly that it was pathetic.

He held Opportunist gaze, and then he moved his hand to pat the top of his head like a pet, and said in a mockingly loving voice, "Maybe if you keep managing to entertain me, you'll get more than this one day."

Cold didn't give Opportunist even a moment to process what just happened, and quickly straightened up and walked away without another word.

Before he left though, Cold had the absolute pleasure of seeing the devastation on Opportunist's face-along with the knowledge that he was going to keep playing along for Cold.

He truly was the most pathetic bird to ever exist.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi! Can you make TkDb characters (anyone you like) x Witch! Reader fanfic? So like, how they found out and how they react with that, or you can add something that you see fit! (⁠人⁠⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Hi Anon! I hope you don't mind but I changed this to headcanons so I could write a bit about everyone. If you'd like fanfics about anyone in particular, please let me know! I also had to break this one up into a few different posts separating the characters into their houses but I'll link them all here. I hope you like the headcanons!

Witches and Ghouls - Frostheim Edition

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Jin Kamurai, Thoma Ishibashi, Lucas Errant, Kaito Fuji x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're a witch! And even though the characters have made deals with demons themselves, they might have some surprising reactions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jin doesn’t put much stock in gossip but it is certainly good for bringing his awareness to possibly true information. So when he heard that you might be a witch, he put in some extra investigation.

And boy was he surprised to find out that this particular rumour was true! He just wasn’t expecting you to actually be a witch.

Honestly, he’s going to be a bit cold around you for a bit, especially if you’ve been together for a while. He sees you keeping this from him as a breach of trust.

Eventually, he will realise that you were keeping it from him for good reason. Once he does this, he’ll accept your witchiness wholeheartedly. He cares about you regardless of whether you’re a witch or not.

Thoma’s pretty observant so it probably wouldn’t take him long to figure out that there’s something different about you.

When he finds out you’re a witch, he’s not super shocked. He had his suspicions after all. Now that he knows for sure, all the little things that happen around you make a lot more sense.

Unlike Jin, Thoma knows why you would hide your witchiness. Until you want to tell people, he’ll happily keep your secret.

He’s also great at helping you cover up any slip ups. Oh the door that’s been stuck for years suddenly opened when you tried it? Must have loosened up since the last person tried it.

I think Lucas wouldn’t find out unless you tell him. He’s quite observant with a lot of things but when it comes to you, he can have a bit of a blind spot.

He’s not going to react well initially. Much like Jin, he sees it as a betrayal of his trust, especially if you have any ways of helping with his investigation into demons.

But he’ll come around quickly and be very apologetic about how he reacted. It’s your business after all, he’s just glad you’re willing to forgive him.

He’ll do his best to make it up to you as well but helping out with any witchy stuff he can. Need ingredients? He’s on it? Got a migraine from pondering the orb? He’ll give you a head rub.

Yeah, Kaito’s going to find out super fast. Surprising everyone, he’ll probably figure it out faster than any of the other ghouls. He’s too focused on you not to notice.

It’s definitely going to freak him out to start with. He’s pacing around in his room torn between staying away from the spooky witch and hanging out with his very attractive partner.

Eventually, the latter wins and he’s back to normal and he’ll be apologetic about his actions. He’s already lucky you like being around him, he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.

You’ve also got a really good bargaining chip if he ever steps out of line. Just remind him of your witchy powers and he’ll very quickly stop whatever he’s doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[forthewomenonly]

Possessive

Warnings: NSFW, smut, GAYS, Amber Freeman x fem reader (implied no pronouns used), daddy kink, dubcon, fingering(r receiving), oral(r receiving), toxic relationship, Amber’s kinda bitchy in this one a/n: Had fun writing this one, enjoy my loves! Amber Freeman is the epitome of possessiveness. You knew it, she knew it, hell, everyone in Woodsboro must have known it from the way she had her arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Her fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, the other hand grasping her cup of liquor in an ironclad grip, head poised ready to stare daggers at anyone who so much as dared to look in your direction.  “let’s go home baby” she purrs in your ear. It wasn’t a suggestion it was a statement, you would be going home whenever Amber wanted, of course you would. You always did exactly what she asked of you. There was a double meaning to her declaration, she wanted you home and away from prying eyes, nearly as much as she wanted you home and naked in her bed. “Few more minutes  Am.” you mumble out. The alcohol clearly settling in your system as your plead is barely coherent. But Amber hears it. Of course she does. Her hand snaps down to look at you, eyes narrowing as she takes in your slightly intoxicated figure. Wordlessly she drags you through the front door ignoring your displeased grumbles as she all but pushes you into the passenger seat of her car, buckling your seat belt.  “What the fuck Amber, I don’t want to go home yet!” you snap at your girlfriend as she starts the ignition. Her hand stills on the car keys, turning her head slowly to meet your gaze. She’s angry you can tell, and suddenly you’re sobering up, acutely aware of your seething girlfriend. “You’re lucky I even let you go to that fucking party.” she says through gritted teeth, her knuckles turning white as she grips the steering wheel impossibly tight. “Take me home Amber.” You spit out, unsure of where this false sense of confidence is coming from.  “We are going home brat.” she counters. “No, not your home. My home.” She remains silent. Part of you wishes she would say something just so that you could gauge her mood. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t acknowledge you and stays eerily silent. Amber tunes out your protests as she speeds past your house. You should have known better anyway. When she pulls into her driveway she swiftly exits the car, basically carrying you into her house as you struggle against her arms. She drags you upstairs, throwing you on her bed. She towers over to as you push yourself up onto your elbows. Amber pushes herself onto you kissing you with fervor, you moan surprised and subconsciously buck your hips up into her own. She takes your shirt off and starts unbuttoning your pants before you push her back by her shoulders. “I’m not letting you fuck me tonight tonight Am, I’m mad at you.” you say with indignation. A fake pout graces her lips, mocking you “oh baby you’re mad? Not gonna let Daddy make it up to you?” you whimper in response but don’t say anything as you stare at her blankly. Amber sighs heavily before removing your pants and underwear in one swift motion.  “How about this then, I’ll stop...if you’re not wet.” You’re suddenly all too aware of the burning heat pooling between your thighs and you’re positive that you’re absolutely soaked at this point. Amber recognizes it too as her hand resurfaces from your slick heat.  “Oh would you look at that! You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets baby!” she says not at all surprised.  “So messy” she tuts, as she leans down coming face to face with the place you need her most. Your body shudders and your eyes shut close as you feel Amber exhale into your cunt. She licks a stripe up your lips, flexing her tongue when she reaches your pulsing clit. You grind your hips down onto Amber’s face and she presses her hand on your waist to keep you still, her other hand teasing your hard nipples through the fabric of you bra. Once she’s done playing with your chest, Amber moves her free hand and pushes two fingers inside of you.  “Oh f-fuck Daddy please” you moan loudly. Amber groans into your slit and curls her fingers, abusing the spongy spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back into your head.  “You wanna cum?” she asks rhetorically lifting her head up. She knows the answer, she can feel your walls sucking her fingers in deeper. “Yes” you gasp out “needa’ cum, need you to make me cum please.” Amber redoubles her efforts leaving you squirming underneath her desperately grinding into her hand, letting her finger-fuck you as she pleases. She presses her thumb harshly onto your reddened clit. “Go ahead baby, cum for me” and you do. Gushing all over her hand as she fucks you through your orgasm.  Amber falls down onto her bed beside you, pulling you to her chest, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, and softly running her fingers through your hair. She doesn’t apologize for making you leave the party early, she doesn’t have to. Amber was fiercely jealous but you loved her. You loved everything about her. After all, what’s a good partner if not a little possessive?

[gingerrtarot]

◌ ｡ PAC: “All eyes on me” - how you can fight your insecurities and start to stand out?

hello, everyone!

honestly this reading turned out to be pretty different from what the heading suggests🫡 but i hope it will still find those who it destined to find. So, as always, remember that this is a general reading, so it may it may not resonate with you. good luck~

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

°｡ Pile 1. ◌

hey hey, group one!! first of all, why do you underestimate yourself so much? seriously, this group came through as the ones with poor self-esteem, so if it’s not about you it’s not your group. I see people here focusing on their flaws and weaknesses too much. It comes to the point when you see nothing good in yourself, you refuse to recognize just how many good and outstanding qualities you possess. Every one of your strengths turns to weakness in your eyes. But seriously, you are so freaking cool, guys. Cards show you as someone extremely talented, interested and unique. Your personality is fascinating. There are not many people like you in this world. You are remarkably smart and intelligent, be it in a spiritual or scientific way, or maybe you know everything about, for example, cinematography or astrology. But, i believe, there’s not just one field in which you are educated. You know a lot. And i think you are pretty much aware of yourself too. And that’s interesting, because you still have self-esteem problems. Maybe that’s because you didn’t even have a chance to really esteem yourself, to see your worth, to show yourself to others, maybe, and receive some feedback, which, i am sure, would have been positive. You possess qualities that allow you to attract not only friends, but fans. Many of you have a talent, an outstanding one. Especially for performing in public, maybe singing, dancing, comedy, modeling or whatever. Many of you are destined for fame here. Wow, guys.

But what to do with that low self esteem of yours? First, acknowledge all your strengths and abilities. Make a list of them, and a list of your accomplishments too. Read them everyday. Teach yourself to stop seeing only bad side. You probably don’t tell anyone about this problem, but it will be really helpful for you to share it with your close friend (family member, lover, etc.). You would receive needed support from them. You don’t even realise how much their praise, compliments and encouragement will boost your confidence. And you will receive it for sure.

If what I said about a talent does resonate with you, well, it’s just a crime to hide it from the world. “Firework” by Katy Perry just started to play, so yeah, you know what to do. Don’t be afraid to express yourself. Wear that outfit you are afraid to wear, go out with that make up that it “too bold”, sing out loud, dance, post whatever it is that you want and so on. Remember, you are a star!!

°｡ Pile 2. ◌

hellooo, group 2!! who do we have here? we have critics. I see that people here are very critical of themselves. You set high standards for yourself, you must be the best in everything. You have to be all that: beautiful, smart, educated, skilful, proper etc. You want to succeed everywhere and in everything. It is important for you to show that you are no worse than others. You may have a fear of being left behind. And this makes you “cling” to everything at once, which ultimately leads to the fact that you are not truly successful at anything. “If you run after two hares, you will catch neither”, you know. And that makes you feel insecure, doubt your abilities and skills. You always feel like you are not enough. For example, you want to send resume for a job, but then you think “oh, i am not good enough for this position, they will definitely find someone better”. And you give up without even trying. Yes, you also give up too easily. Impostor syndrome may be the thing for you.

In fact the problem here is that because of that you don’t put enough energy and efforts into things that are interesting for you, that you want to do. It’s so hard for me to focus on your reading now, something distracts me all the time. You may feel the same. You can’t be perfect at everything, you should focus on what you really like.

I see that you are fast learners. You easily perceive new information and grasp the essence of things. You are probably always aware of what is happening in the world, you know all the latest news, follow trends, and all the gossip about your surroundings is unlikely to go unnoticed by you. And I think that you would be good at spreading information. Something about the way you speak captivates people. You can become a good speaker, blogger or work in marketing sphere.

Don’t let your doubts stop you from working towards your goals. My advice to you is to stop thinking and start acting. if you are unsure of your abilities and skills, take courses to improve your qualifications so that you can feel more confident. And stop being afraid to try and experiment. You are afraid to send this resume because “of course, they won’t accept you”but just try it. Or you don’t start drawing, let’s say, because you’re sure that you’ll get some kind of nonsense, just do it, draw it, and then again and again so you’ll improve and understand that it’s not all that bad. Here you need to stop expecting something supernatural from yourself, it’s okay if you are not perfect, accept yourself as you are and do what you can to become better. It is better to try and fail than to frame yourself into this “perfection” and do nothing. Good luck!!

°｡ Pile 3. ◌

Hi, group 3! An interesting case here. People here either have a decent, healthy self esteem (and if that is the case i don’t have much to say to you) or pretend it to be so. I see you here as extremely flamboyant personalities. You know how to draw attention, how to make people love you and how to get whatever it is that you want. You are charismatic, fun and charming. You learnt to be this way. At first i didn’t see a problem here. So maybe you don’t realise it either. You show the world a person that is not you, and you get so used to it. You display signs of a person with high self-esteem, but deep inside there’s a lot of pain, insecurities and fears. I see your inner child is extremely hurt here. Your connection with them is messed up. You lost yourself while pretending to be someone else to deserve love of people. Maybe you, the way you are, didn’t fit into society and weren’t accepted and that made you change. Many of you here are truly differ from your surroundings. Damn, we can have geniuses in this group. Your ideas, ways of thinking and seeing this world are something that people may not understand. You have very rich imagination and a creative vision. You are one of those who are able to come up with truly original ideas. Many of you also possess psychic abilities and are great master manifestors. And you all are so strong, because whereas I see your inner self suffering so much you are still able to show the world an absolutely happy and content person.

I see your inner child here as literally “bottled up” with its problems, fears and wounds. And he has to face it all alone. You are too scared to “open this bottle” because you would have to feel it all too. Or maybe you are not even aware of it. But it’s still there, inside of you. And if you stumbled across this reading it’s not just by accident.

So, what cards advice you here. You need to reconnect with your inner child, to recall who you was and who you really are. Understand and become aware of all your inner pain, triggers and everything that may bother you. Stop pretending. Give yourself time to acknowledge it all, accept yourself and relive all that pain. Let your feelings and emotions out. I’m not a doctor, indeed, but some of you would really benefit from working with a therapist if a lot of what i said resonates with you. To be and not to seem to be, that’s what you have to learn.