#why is it ok for people to break my stuff

[nikist-4-n]

So you’re saying people don’t deserve forgiveness? It’s so funny but maybe everyone’s morals are different but everyone deserves forgiveness no matter what has been said or done. Now if you choose not to forgive that up to you but forgiveness leaves a bitter heart and will rot away at you. Because no one is perfect but yourself in dodo’s situation say you did all the stuff she did would you not want forgiveness? I don’t think it’d be fair to say you don’t deserve it. But it’s fine you’re young and under developed and still growing and learning

1 So you’re saying people don’t deserve forgiveness? It’s so funny but maybe everyone’s morals are different but everyone deserves forgiveness no matter what has been said or done

Now when did I say that? Sure ( some ) people deserve forgiveness, doesn't mean that we forget. And that memory can easily lead to resentment because ur heart is not at peace. What dodo did she could've easily apologized in the beginning -heck I begged her to- but she ignored me and only when she thought we cut her off she apologizes? That's messed up and if u think that it isn't then I don't know what to say to u. And yh anon we all have different morals, but my morals don't want to forget what she did, just because we can easily forgive others doesn't mean I'll forget what she did.

2 Now if you choose not to forgive that up to you but forgiveness leaves a bitter heart and will rot away at you.

Actually how dare u anon. All my life I've forgiven people and gave 22259 chances but they've still hurt me over and over again (those who saw my close friends stories on Insta will know ). And what u should do is let them go. Because forgiveness and forgetting are two different things. Ive forgiven my boy bestie but I didn't forget all the things he's said to me. And for ur information I told dodo over and over again to apologize but she didn't listen to me and then when she faced the consequences for her behaviour she realised she messed up. And by then it was too late. Sometimes others hurt people too much for them to just accept an apology. Sure we've forgiven people but we didn't forget. And that's where dodo comes in. I've forgiven dodo but I don't want her in my life nor did I forget what she did.

3 Because no one is perfect but yourself in dodo’s situation say you did all the stuff she did would you not want forgiveness?

Ok let's say I did that anon. If something chei did bothered me I would've told her. And if it's something in my personal life I would've taken a break from social media so I don't lash out at people who don't deserve my rage. And if my friends told me my behaviour in the beginning I would've apologized immediately and tried to make things right. What dodo did was ignore me calling her out and lashed out at chei for 2 weeks before we had enough and it was too late. And that's what u should learn anon that stuff that people do/say cause emotional wounds and a simple apology does not cut it at all. That's when we need to cut people off for good.

4 I don’t think it’d be fair to say you don’t deserve it. But it’s fine you’re young and under developed and still growing and learning

Yes it would because some things just don't deserve a simple apology. Dodo acted mean and ignored chei for weeks and just accepted us to take her back?? No because she showed us that she does not like chei. We don't just dislike people for no reason, there has to be a reason and if it is not stated we're gonna go with that answer. And how does ur age justify ur behaviour? Sure ur maturity is low but ur not dumb to realise what u are doing. She was actively being mean to chei, she knew it hurt her and that's why she did it. And also chei is literally younger than dodo but didn't act like that. She's sensitive and could've taken her insults to heart but instead she kept quiet and tried to protect her, you anon. Because we all know it's u dodo hiding behind anon so let me say this: please get out of my inbox and stop trying to defend urself, ur explanations just fall flat. Sure u have points ( barely ) but ur arguments fall flat and are ignorant and close minded. I'm tired of having to explain why ur wrong, it's just getting boring and annoying having to type so much.

Please let me know what u disagree with in the comments I'll love to see different opinions ^^

[softshuji]

My sister was playing in my room and she broke one of my figurines. I had offhandedly mentioned to my parents that this happened and I was not intending to berate my sister or yell or make her buy me a new one, I just wanted an acknowledgement of the fact that it had happened. My dad says "no she didn't. Did you see her do it?" I say yes it happened in front of me and he says "no, she didn't break it, it was obviously already broken" and my mom says "good, I'm glad she did" which I felt was really mean considering it was a gift someone got me. and the funny thing is, I wasn't going to start getting angry at her, she's 8. But I just wanted an acknowledgement of the fact that she's broke it and should be more careful with other people's stuff. She's already getting to the stage where she'll deny ever having done something even if you've seen her do it but my parents enable this behaviour (mostly with her though they do it with my brothers too) and I think it's important that kids grow up knowing what accountability is because if not, they end up becoming the same adults who refuse to acknowledge when they've done something. But it's just sad to me. That my things being broken being lost being used doesn't mean anything to anyone, that it's much easier to try to gaslight me into thinking it hadn't happened when I literally watched it than it is to just admit it happened and take some responsibility. I know I'm a very patient person but that's kind of mean.

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI.

[francixoxoxo]

Hey, so I think I’m gonna take a break from writing for a week or so, I’m just not feeling that great all around and I think a break might jog my creativity and help me feel better. Love love you all and I’ll be back soon 🫶🫶

[linkneol091]

JOSUKE MY GUY

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

there are too many thoughts inside of me at all times.

[lynaferns]

I think I'm going to stop drawing the DCA for a minute and go back to drawing my OCs again

1stly because I miss them

2ndly because I think I'm really burned out from drawing sun and moon and I need a break from that

The OC I drew the other day was like a breath of fresh air and it was so easy to put in the canvas. The human/elf version of the dca I'm doing it's taking me ages to finish and it's in the same artstyle (with my stress-relief-easy-fast-and-fun-to-use brush aka fine black lineart 1)

So you'll be seeing more of my personal OCs non DCA related for now

It actually makes me a little sad because I have a lot of things I want to draw of Sun, Moon and Eclipse but they aren't coming out as easily

I feel sorry for people who followed recently for my DCA art.

If you don't like my OC content or got tired of my art no one is holding you here

✨Be free🐎🪽🦋

[luminisvii]

with how the splat 3 fanbase is acting about splatfests, you'd think there's something real and tangible on the line and not like, superficial bragging rights and a few extra snails. idk why people are sitting here and getting angry at shiver as if she's a real person who has any actual will to do anything and not just pixels on a screen, especially when there are legitimate issues with how splatfests are designed and run in splat3, and that's the devs and nintendo's fault, not shiver. she's not real and she can't do anything to you. and i've seen way more complaining about the concept of "toxic shiver stans who always pick shiver and ruin it for everyone" than i have any actual evidence that these kind of people exist on a mass scale. it really feels like that kind of person is a guy that the fanbase made up to be mad at every time they lose. i agree that there are huge problems with splat 3 but the moment someone lays the blame on shiver they throw all credibility out the window. it's not shiver, there's no evil cult of shiver stans manipulating the splatfests, and don't get me started on how people are talking about the asian playerbase with these splatfests.

[obstinaterixatrix]

So last week liz took me to see a local production of heathers, which was the first time I’ve actually seen the show the whole way through, which was really interesting. The thing is, the production had a Diversity Equity and Inclusion guy listed on staff, which makes sense for a black comedy from the 80s, but ALSO there were several asian americans in the main cast and I think they must’ve been pretty strategic about casting in a pretty interesting way. heather chandler, JD, and martha were the characters in the principle cast that were played by asian americans, and it reminded me of the book ‘Forever Foreigners or Honorary Whites?: The Asian Ethnic Experience Today’—if heather c was the only asian american, that’d have unfortunate implications with ideas of assimilation/privilege (sidebar, I’ve talked to friends who live/have lived on the west coast and they’ve told me ‘yeah asian americans on the west coast are SOOO DIFFERENT from asian americans in other parts of the usa’ which is pretty interesting, but I’d imagine it’s dependent on how high the asian population is in any given place—I’m not on the west coast but my high school was like 30% asam and I’m pretty sure I walk around with less baggage than asam folks who don’t have that experience) and if JD was the only asian american that’d have really unfortunate implications mirroring that whole Yellow Peril Those Barbaric Asian Men Are After Our White Women (which, with an ungenerous reading one could argue that those implications are there anyway, but I think that having heather c as asam it leaves room for that *dichotomy*—while it’s pretty common nowadays in the usa to consider asam folks as ‘honorary whites’ [when it’s convenient], having asam characters that counter that perspective [both JD and Martha] allows room for more nuance). (another sidebar, JD is a character where I feel like the narrative is less difficult to navigate if he’s played by a white actor because it becomes more delicate if he’s played by any actor of color—I think it worked for that production, and of course I’m mega biased [pan-ethnic solidarity] [lol] so this did get me way more sympathetic to JD than I no doubt would’ve been if he had been played by a white actor). and if only JD and heather c were played by asam actors—well imo that dichotomy would be enough for some nuance, but—it’s still kind of in the unfortunate implication zone with them both being primarily antagonists, and having martha played by an asam actor neutralizes some of those implications by being a purely sympathetic character. so to me it feels like it definitely works in a way that the tv show casting Really Did Not. anyway, I’m talking about all this separate from performances, but they were all really good too—heather c was doing high kicks in insane heels??? and ballet in bathroom slippers??? also my bias kicked in for her too, she did a great job playing a severe and ruthless terrible person (lol).

[stupidnaturals]

.

[fappellmoan]

i mean it’s just kinda crazy cause. and forgive me if i sound somewhat spoiled here but. this trip im doing to take more credits and get experience and make connections etc is obviously expensive and i talked abt it with my parents. a lot before trying to do it. and somehow my dad didn’t understand that yk we would have to pay for it. ??? and is putting me in this spot of ‘figuring out what we’re gonna do about it’ and it’s like dude. i mean i’m going i paid for my fucking flights you know i’m. regardless i’ll be there. and i make $10/hr i have not been able to work consistently and when you don’t have thousands and thousands of dollars just sitting there accumulating more interest it doesn’t fucking last. like what exactly do you want me to say? i’ll drain all my accounts and give what little i have to you? tldr my main point here is the only way this man truly shows any kind of affection is through money and since he fucked me up im glad to take advantage of that lol like why wouldn’t i. so to have it thrown back in my face is just um an awful feeling. like im not even worth this to you. this is just too much. it truly does feel like someone put a number on love and im just not up there

[sugaroto]

Tiktok realized I was feeling off with my friend before I did

[twinksepticeye]

ahhhhhhhh the fear of being attacked over source is returning !!! perchance i will hide away forever! perchance i will never express my identity ever again!!! perchance i’ll just be kicked from front until i stop caring again!!! who knows!!!

[ganondoodle]

the people suggesting both a wandering one and a stationary one are right! that works too, even better; it would be a lil strang for the smiths to set up shop all alone in usually rather uninhabited areas after all (dont want them to be too close to stables) so theres a main shop with the 'master' smiths that can do all the previously mentioned things and they have helpers that walk around the shop, somehwat similar to how terri (engl beedle) does around stables

the helpers sell you some arrowtypes and perhaps some simple weapons that are easy to carry, while the masters can repair and craft much more, theres other NPCs that do deliveries for the shops you can meet on the streets and they will tell you were to find the next smith, but cant sell to you since its a paid for delivery

yeah no of course i cant stop trying still ...

currently trying to get out of the mindset -draw what could be popular- by designing some rough ideas for the weapons shops in the new totk rewrite (fuse isnt a thing here)

to explain; during the first part (before villain rauru reveal and change to shiekah arm) the way to repair or craft weapons is with a new type of NPCs; they are smiths that can repair your weapons, craft them, and have some avaible to buy (mostly for arrows but also small selection of weapons), it costs material and some money, or if you dont have the material/all material, it costs more money but is still doable, price depending on how valuable or hard to get the material is you dont want to spend on it

then after the switch to the sheikah arm and zelda taking on the role of your permanent companion, she can both repair and craft as well (might be limited but expandable with quests, as in that zelda learns more skills- so theres new quests after the switch and you cant just do everything before that) with the difference that you need to have the required materials but it costs no money

this would mean that while no giant change before and after the halfway point of the game, it is definitely different feeling, plus its a convenience that is good to have in the second half but shouldnt be sorely missed in the first, the difference between NPC smith and zelda gives you the option to spend material or money- so you arent forced to grind anything if you need either for something else, plus new quest rewards for the second half and new points of interest in general, similar to a stable but not too close so theres still an element of exploration; they arent super frequent but around the map of the surface enough that you can reasonably reach one in each region (perhaps after aquiring the yiga as allies/or before that in disguise they can do the same for you but are only found in the underground)

it would also allow for more diverse gameplay, if your favorite weapon is about to break (it might not fully disappear but if you use it up it would go into a condition like the master sword when its lost its power, not usable or doing tiny amount of damage, but not gone forever if you accidentally use it too much-) you can decide to throw it away or keep it until you find the next smith, depending on if you already found one and see you are close or havent yet, or spend the material if you have it to instantly repair it

(i havent decided yet if rauru might be willing to repair your weapons, but not to craft them since he lacks the skill (would never admit to it) and he only wants to give you just enough support to enable you to do what he wants you to do- i think that might work better bc its still a difference to zelda, since she can craft too, but not too much so that you would feel like the games forcing you to use the smiths in the first half ... possibly its unlocked with one of the enigma stones, when rauru can claim he is able to do that now bc it lets him recover some of his strength)

what im wondering now, which is a bit important i think, is .. should the smiths be wandering around a set path or have a lil stationary shop? if they wander around it would make it a bit more depending on situation of you wanna use them, but bears the risk of making it annoying if you dont know here they are or happen to be too far away and a lil weird bc should have something to work on there, like an anvil, which would be a lil strange to carry around; a lil shop could potentially turn into a location you keep teleporting back and forth though im leaning towards the shop; you could make helping them build it a quest too, or saving them from monsters? overall i think this idea is a rather nice balance

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

i know clark kent grew up in a farm and probs got buff doing Farm Things, but mans is a whole ass alien who gets his powers from the sun, he could be a tall ass stick-thin man and be just as strong and impenetrable and whatever

give me a stereotypically nerd looking gangly superman is what im saying

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.