#why is my stress response to want to pick up another hobby

[kristakittyfish]

me, stressed beyond measure: maybe I should buy a bass guitar

[moonydustx]

I was asked on Ao3 to create a cute and different scenario with Law. I don't think this is even close to being the final version, but I thought it was a little cute and decided to bring it here. Cute, Law tries one of the reader's hobbies and fails, probably poorly crocheted, poorly written and poorly revised

Law x F!Reader requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated

--

All of Law's methodism seemed impossible at that moment, at least it seemed to make the task he intended to do even more difficult. He liked you, it was as clear as any sea you two had ever crossed, but how could it be so difficult to put into words or demonstrate?

Luckily, his way of demonstrating whatever his feelings were and no matter how much they remained hidden for a long time was by demonstrating services, in this case, he was looking to demonstrate that he also cared about your tastes.

The two of you had already spent nights counting coins - and being careful not to mix the repeated ones with the new ones - reading and rereading the stories. Now his objective is to introduce you to something you liked, nothing more fair, right?

However, it seemed impossible. How could it be so difficult to connect those two dots? In fact, the two stitches were huge threads and crochet needles, at least in Law's head they were much bigger than the ones he used in surgery.

The task was being doubly difficult for two specific reasons: one, he had no idea about crochet, even with the magazine he had picked up and all the clothes you had already presented to your colleagues and two; he was using your material and at some point, no matter how much he tried to keep busy, you would suspect he was missing.

After sitting for hours, Law found himself doing something he would never have thought of: giving up. He dropped the needles that were now becoming a big knot on his bed and went out to try to breathe something that wasn't so stressful. He just didn't expect to find the person "responsible" for all this.

"Hey!" His voice came out suddenly, surprising you as you rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. "Everything is fine?"

"Someone hid my things!" your furious voice woke him up, apparently he was about to be discovered and you didn't seem to like the idea of ​​his disappearance. "Can't you help me?"

"So, I…"

"I don't know, maybe teleport my things here? I'm a little stressed and that helps me so much to get my head straight." you interrupted him, letting the flood of words come out, barely realizing that you had interrupted him. "I don't think so, do you? Sorry to bother you with this."

"I know where it is." he snorted, his slumped shoulders indicating that he was giving up. "But, I have a good explanation, I think."

"What do you mean a good explanation?"

He just indicated the way with his head and without even blinking, you decided to follow him. After all, what would your captain have related to crochet and needles?

The first thing you found strange was that he immediately took you towards his room, this being a place rarely visited - and authorized - by the crew of the Polar Tang. Law opened the door and allowed you to go through first. The second thing that surprised you was the tangle of lines that were on his bed. The way Law looked at you indicated everything you needed to know, guilty.

"May I ask why?" the light laugh that escaped your lips eased the tension under Law. "I mean, I never expected that."

"I just wanted to do something nice, after all you always help me with the coins, and the books and…" he limited himself to responding, watching you sit on his bed and start to undo the knots. "I tried, but it ended up becoming a big knot."

"Not a big knot…" you moved the needles and soon the tangled threads became a small stitched thread. "You just left it inverted, you managed to make a little fabric chain."

"All this work for a little chain?"

"Were you doing this for me?" you answered his question with another, leaving him stagnant. It only took a few seconds for Law to just nod. "It looks amazing, captain."

"Was it amazing?" his eyes looked like a puppy's, trying to recognize the praise in your words

"For a beginner, of course! I can even use it like this." you tied the thread sewn onto your wrist, turning it into a bracelet. "If you want, I can teach you how to do it."

"I think I'll let the idea go for a bit." Law's body sweated as he saw you approach, even with a safe distance between your bodies. "But if you want a quiet place to do that, you can come here whenever you need. I mean… I can read and you can stay here, I-I don't know."

"Thank you captain." you smiled and in a burst of courage - mixed with fear of his reaction, you stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I loved the gift and I also loved the proposal, see you later!"

Law watched you leave with his heart almost coming out of his mouth. He still preferred to keep the surgical needle and sutures, however, that little bracelet on your arm symbolized more than any other hobby you two had tried together.

[writtingsomestuff]

hi love could you maybe write something with jamal musiala x girlfriend reader where she's 2 years older than him and has older male Friends and jamal sees a instagram Story of reader and them at a Club he's so jelous and calls her so many times and comes to take her home with him💃❤

Hello! I wrote the best I could. Hope you enjoy it xx

Cinderella and Prince Charming

Jamal Musiala x fem!reader Warnings: None, I think

He thought that with time he would understand it, accept it and move on, but he did not. You were two years older than him, it was not a lot, to be honest, but he knew that you were more mature and had your ideas ordered in life, not like him. You just finished a degree and planned to study a master on September; You even sent a CV to work in a company specialized on your career, currently waiting for an answer. However, he was a kid in front of the world, even in front of his teammates, but could he blame them? Not really. He played football, yes, and he was living his dream, but football, as F1, or basketball and any sport, the day of tomorrow was uncertain; one day you are at the top of the world, and the next, no one knew about you any more. That was his biggest insecurity, that you were around people similar to you, ordered, mature and responsible, and that if you ever left him for one of your old friends, it could be justified.

He was leaving the locker room, after a tough session with his club, when he heard the notification sound from his phone. The message he didn't want to read appeared before his eyes, “Sorryyy! Tonight I’m going to the club with my uni friends. What about tomorrow evening? Ily x” he asked you to meet after a long time apart from each other; he was travelling and playing the last matches of the Bundesliga, while you were finishing the last exams of the degree, however, you had another plans and he was jealous. Yes, jealous. Not so much about you going to club, that was the least of the matters, he also went to clubs, but jealous of all these college friends, who shared their life ideas with you, hobbies and could actually understand you when you speak about your subjects and exams, something that Jamal could not.

After some hours, he had dinner, played some video games and even started a novel that you left the last time you stayed. He was waiting for a last message from you that could assure him that you were at home, fine and safe. To “kill time”, he entered Instagram, a place where you could spend hours that felt like minutes, just like TikTok or Twitter. He made a mistake; the first user that appeared was yours, he opened the video and there was a video you “re-uploaded”: you were there with your, he would say: "amazing, black dress," and you were smiling next to Robert, one of those uni friends. Robert was tall and had black hair that highlighted his green eyes – he was the one who Jamal hated the most, to be honest. Both of you were laughing out loud about something Mary, at the other said, told you. "That Robert” as he called him sometimes, had his arm around your shoulders, while you drunk from your glass.

It was 2 AM, and he started to assume that he would have to drink three cups of coffee before going to the training session, a heart attack was better than an angry Tuchel. He started to worry as you were never this late from clubbing; you enjoyed it, but you would quickly get out as the environment, the strong smell of alcohol and specially your heels would stress you and send you home in three hours. Jamal started calling you, no answer received.

After 17? 18? or 20? – he lost the counting – calls, he went to his bedroom to get changed. He knew which club you frequented, since he picked you up more than once. On his way, he prayed to God that you would be there, and most importantly, that you would be fine.

He entered the club; the ambient was anxious to him, and he understood why he enjoyed these places only when he was wasted and laughing at any of Müller’s jokes. He quickly localized you and your friends, and he felt relieved when Robert was not here, or that Robert. He called your name and your friends to catch all the group’s attention.

“Jamal!” You shouted as you saw his familiar figure walking towards you, “I am so glad you are here” you hugged him, or rather threw yourself on him

“Oh Lord!” He quickly caught you, “Are you drunk?” A silly question, really, your face said more than enough

“Only a bit” You let out a small laugh

“Alright, now” He held you better, trying to put your arms on his waist and his on your shoulders, but you weren’t helping “y/n please help me, so we can go out, okay?” He pleaded, you nodded, but you didn’t help.

Both of you left that and ambient and you finally smiled when you felt the cool air outside

“You’re my príncipe” You smiled at him

“Príncipe?” He tried to repeat with a Spanish accent

“Maya said it means prince, so you are my prince because you came and saved me from that place”

“Why didn’t you answer? I called you a hundred times” He asked you as you he made your way towards the car

“You did?” You asked confused and took your phone from your purse, “Let me see… oh! It doesn’t work Jamal” You gave him your phone as you pouted

“I think it just doesn’t have battery” He gave you the phone back and smiled as he saw the car closer, but then he heard you sobbing “No y/n! Why are you crying, what happened?”

“My heels are killing me, I might bleed and lose a lot of blood” You let out as he opened the car’s door

“But don’t cry, look we’re here already” He helped you to sit down, “now we remove this heels, and we go home to rest, alright?” He cleaned your tears and left a small kiss in your check, before kneeling in front of you to take off those heels.

“I am Cinderella” You said as he gave you small smile

“I would be your Prince Charming any day”

Once at home, he gave an aspirin and a big glass of water, he changed your clothes to a comfortable big shirt of his that, and a Bayern sweatpants, he may appear murdered in the morning because you were a Borussia Dortmund fan, but he didn’t have anything else.

For Jamal, it was enough that you would spend the night between his arms.

Not Musiala scoring that last minute gol! (imagine the scenario in this context) Not a Bundesliga fan but my heart breaks for Reus.

About F1: Praying for Alonso's 33 and finally!! they are in my city, Sainz and Fernando are home, looking forward for a beautiful race

I hope you guys enjoyed it x. Any comments about my writing are welcome. Thanks for reading! and, btw I couldn't think about a better title.

[withlovelunette]

Hi! I love your account and posts! I was wondering if you have any advice for me.. I recently picked up writing as a hobby and I really want to improve. So I've found that im good at writing slow scenes esp fluff / romantic scenes but when it comes to fast paced ones where a lot of action and dialogue is happening especially between more than two characters i find it very hard to make it flow naturally, how can i get better at this?

Hello there!! Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy it! :,) And also, glad to hear you've gotten into writing, welcome!

So scene pacing is one of those things that can take a long time to fully "perfect". Just from my own experience, I usually focus my first couple of drafts on just making sure I have everything I want to convey within the story, and usually fine tune the pacing later. I'm definitely on the same boat as you, where slow scenes tend to come more naturally to me and usually require less adjustments throughout my editing process, as opposed to my fast paced scenes. I don't typically write a lot of action heavy stories, but I've run into this problem a few times nonetheless, so while I don't think I have any sort of expertise on the subject, I've compiled a list of things I like to keep in mind; from one slow-paced scene lover to another :D

(Also; content warning for some writing involving violence! It's nothing too graphic, but I do compare some action writing that includes violence, so just a head's up!)

1. Sentence length variation!

This is probably the most common advice you'll find so I'm just gonna get this one out of the way right away. Basically, by lengthening your sentences, the reader is forced to pace their own reading, practically "slowing them down" so they can fully comprehend the sentence. For the opposite effect; Be short and concise. Don't drag out your sentences. No meandering.

I should point out that for this technique to actually be effective, you need to have variation (as shown in the paragraph above). When your character is analysing the situation, plotting, planning, etc. you'll want to use longer sentences, and then reserve the shorter ones for the action. This also helps to convey the urgency the character feels, since we generally tend to not think as thoroughly when we're under stress.

This technique can drastically alter the flow of conversations as well, which I've tried to illustrate with this very simplistic dialogue ^^;

Version 1

"Why are you home so late?" "It's not that late. I was just out with some friends," the boy breathes out, slipping his jacket off and draping it over his shoulder. "Which friends?" "Friends, mom," he answers with a groan. "Yeah, I have friends." "I don't like your tone."

Version 2

"Why are you home so late?" "It's not that late. I was just out with some friends," the boy breathes out, slipping his jacket off and draping it over his shoulder. His mother raises an eyebrow. "Which friends?" "Friends, mom," he answers with a groan, head tilted back. "Yeah, I have friends." A grimace etches itself into the woman's face, her features distorted and uncanny beneath the florescent lighting of the hallway. "I don't like your tone."

This might not be a perfect example, but my point is that the entire tone and flow of the dialogue can change based on how descriptive you decide to be. The first version is a lot more snappy, a quick back and forth between an angsty teen and a tired mother, while the second version indulges in the exchange way more, essentially dragging out the pacing of the dialogue as well, and building up to the mother's response.

2. Choosing the right verbs

When writing action, your focus should really be to choose good and effective verbs. The verb "pull" conveys more force than "tug", for example, even though they convey the same action. To haul or heave something has even more force behind it, or compare push vs shove.

I also find that certain words just "sound" more intense, because they have a certain sharpness to them. For example, slip, slick, plunge, snatch, split, etc. Compared to stumble, sleek, push, grab, fracture, etc. I think this is mainly a linguistic thing, since some words have harsher consonants, but it can be helpful to just pull up a thesaurus sometimes and see if there's a stronger verb that you can implement!

This is also a great way to avoid adverbs. I definitely think some people exaggerate whenever they say to never use adverbs, but in action, you should really try to cut down as much of your adverbs as possible. If you have a good verb, you usually don't need an adverb, and by cutting out adverbs, you're quickening the pace of the writing!

For example: "She stabbed the knife deeply into his stomach" vs "She thrust the knife into his stomach". The word "thrust" already conveys the strength and speed of the knife, so there's no reason to add "deeply", because it's kinda self explanatory that a knife "thrust" into someone's stomach would go in deep.

3. Focus on the senses.

Because you want to limit any descriptions of the character's thinking during the height of the action, a great way to still include description in your writing is to focus on the senses, and there's two primary reasons for this.

Firstly - when under stress, we don't necessarily have the time to thoroughly think about or dwell on our situation, and are instead too preoccupied with our senses. Thus, in limiting your descriptions to the senses, it helps convey that those descriptions are all very immediate and urgent.

Secondly - this is a great way to get insight into the character's mindset without meandering. For example, if a character tastes blood in their mouth and takes the time to thoroughly describe the taste, how it feels, and what their reaction to it is, then that naturally takes away some of the tension and urgency. However, if a character describes tasting blood and being hit with nausea, but doesn't dwell on it, not only does this convey the urgency (namely that the character doesn't have time to dwell on it), but also that the character is so preoccupied with the action that their bodily comforts must be sidelined for the time being.

You want to still be very brief with descriptions of the senses (at least during the height of action scenes), and you'll want to pick words that really convey what you want with as little space as possible. For example, describing a smell as a stench vs an aroma conveys two wildly different types of smell, even without me describing those smells. This isn't to say that you shouldn't ever go into any details at all, but if you're reading a draft and find that the action is dragging out too much, try cutting out descriptions and substituting them with stronger words.

4. Don't over-explain

I think writers sometimes get too caught up with trying to make an intense action choreography. I know they can be fun to imagine and to witness on-screen, but in writing, it can get very confusing very quickly. Just remember to be concise with what is where, who is doing what, where limbs/weapons are, etc. It's a lot better to have something that's simple yet comprehensible, as opposed to something complex and confusing. When writers begin to over-explain and complicate, that's usually where you'll find clunky sentences that mess up the flow of the action. Less is often more!

I actually really enjoy listening to Critical Role for this reason (the biggest DnD podcast/stream at the moment). Their action scenes are usually very precise and straightforward, and while I'd definitely embellish some of it when writing, it lays a good foundation! Highly recommend giving them a listen if you want examples of concise action scenes!

In terms of writing multiple characters in fast paced scenes; I really encourage you to either focus the writing on one character's experience/perception of the action (if the perspective you've chosen allows for it), or to split the gang up. Again, it doesn't matter how well paced your action is if it's confusing who is where and who's doing what, because that confusion contributes to slowing down the pacing! If you really insist on keeping multiple characters "on-screen" during a fast paced scene, you can convey some of that tension with minimal confusion by prioritising one character's perspective, because limiting the speed and amount of information is really the key to quickening the pacing, and by limiting the reader to only getting information through one character, you can better manage the flow of information as well!

– Outro

Sorry this took so long, I really appreciate the patience! Again, I don't think action scenes are really my strongest area, considering I don't write much action, but as someone who also struggles with writing action and pacing fast-paced scenes right, these are usually the things I look out for when troubleshooting pacing issues in my writing! I hope this managed to help you out a little bit, but if anything's unclear, just let me know and I'll try my best to clarify! ^^;

[mimzy-writing-online]

You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

[verxsyon]

@dreamiehrs​

hello hello can i req gender-neutral!reader + mona + black + missed calls if that's available?? ty ily 💗

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. mona x gn!reader

— 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. drabble ; 0.5k

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. modern au, lovers to exes au ; angst

— 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). breakups, swearing

[ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ]

I used to have so many missed calls Now I just sit around and miss your calls I had the chance when I was with ya Now I’m hoping that you'll pick up, yeah

Compatibility. Timing. Current circumstances. Goals. Uncontrollable occurrences. Wanting different things. These factors are another set of obstacles on your path that challenge your perception of an ideal relationship.

Sometimes they can be overcome, and sometimes there is always the chance for it to crash and burn because of a single factor that could be the breaking point. Realistically, life isn’t a utopia. The world rarely aligns the fates of two people to be together forever.

Post-graduation, Mona has changed for the worst. Communication became less of a commitment for the both of you, eventually calling quits. It’s mentally and physically exhausting to maintain a relationship, especially if you’re the only one who is making the effort to keep it alive.

You finally gather the courage to contact her for the first time in months, although the probability of her picking up is zero to none. Unexpectedly she does, and the first thing you hear from the other side is a heavy scoff.

“Hi.” Greetings nowadays seem so foreign to you; weightless and shallow. You click your tongue, hoping she will say some kind words afterwards. “Just checking in to see how you are doing, as always. Like I said, if you need anything—”

“Since when is it an obligation to share my life story with my partner?” Mona spits, making you flinch. “Last time I checked, it’s not your responsibility to involve yourself in affairs other than your own.”

You shake your head. “No, of course not. Remember that we live in a culture where we are obligated to share everything with your partner, or else you aren’t honest with them. I understand that your choice to not share everything with me doesn’t mean you don’t trust me or love me enough, and that’s totally fine! That’s…” Tears threaten to stream down your face. “That’s why I called today.”

“What happened to spending time wisely, huh?” Mona sneers. “You’re not going to see me anymore after tonight so why waste your breath talking to me?”

“What?” you whisper in disbelief. After you two spend weeks compiling a list of ideas to consider for the holidays, those plans are ultimately crossed out in black marker. “You’re not planning on coming back at all?”

“I don’t see why I should,” she retorts. “What else do you possibly want from me? Hugs? Kisses? My life story?”

Your fists clench. “You know what I want? Someone whose hobby is to annoy the fuck out of me. Someone who can depend on me for anything. Someone who is willing to take a bullet for me any day. Someone who is exerting the same amount of effort as I do into this relationship because I can’t be the only one carrying the load all the damn time.”

Fatigue and stress flood your vision. “So no; I am not asking for hugs, kisses, or your fucking life story. I just want my girlfriend back.”

“Well, she’s not here anymore. Get lost.” Then she’s gone. Gone from the face of the earth. The end of an era.

Your head hurts. Your heart hurts. Everything hurts. No more calls can fix this mess. You spend the night crying your eyes out for the future that is now black, hours away and never coming back.

[cafecourage]

The moment they realized they loved you. (Isekai Au Edition) Part 3

If you want more information on this AU here is the Link!

Hyrule:

- It confusing and full of yearning.

- The Fae Folk are very affectionate in nature. Physical touches and platonic kisses are just normal. Hyrule growing up briefly with them had adopted this habit.

- You are like that as well so you’re the one to take care of Hyrule when he wanted affection. Since other then Legend, it’s awkward to ask the others.

- He finds however while he still asks/gives you affection. He gets more flustered and embarrassed when you initiated contact.

___________________________________

Admittedly Hyrule never had a clear understanding of Hylian social norms. Some things were easy to pick up when he was just traveling by himself. However, there was a lot that conflicted with Fae social norms. While yes, the Fae were more mischievous and could be borderline malicious, they are very affectionate creatures. Which was the one of many things Hyrule picked up when he was being raised by the Great Fairy.

Before you join the chain, he had to hold himself back from being overly affectionate with the group. Yes, when he had chances, he would give a quick side hug or ruffling of the hair for the younger Link’s. But nothing on the level of cuddles or small peaks on the cheek and forehead. You though! You were the one to lay the affection on everyone thick. Most if not every Hero has melted from all the complements and physical affection.

Hyrule was living his best life now with you! Cuddles are a must for the two of you. Especially when one another has been having a rough day. You’ve also gotten the others involved with this newly formed ritual. He just over all feeling comfortable and loved.

Which then leads to Hyrule’s issue. Slowly he began to feel embarrassed with every peak after he heals you. Then his heart begins to race when he is cuddled up resting his head against your chest. Even holding your hands became hard for him to stand! It felt so warm but also made him fearful. He was scared of losing you. Losing this warmth. This comfort. He wanted to keep it but scared that this feeling was to good for him.

“-and that’s what happen so far.” He was visiting the Great Fairy Cotera of Wild’s Era. He had visited her each time they visited Kakariko. Cotera gently hummed messing with his hair. “What should I do?” He looks up to the giantess worriedly. His small sisters surround him ether sitting on top of him or by his side.

Their mother hummed as she thought about his problem. “My dear sweet child.” She started after a long pause “this human… do you feel different compared to your other friends? Or with your siblings in the forest?”

Hyrule thought about it after a while shook his head. “No… I did used to feel embarrassed with the others but it was different. This is more… warm?”

“Warm?” She urges him gently to continue. “Do you hate it?”

“No…” he sounded like a child, fidgeting in his seat “I hate how anxious it makes me now.” You meant a lot to him. Hyrule knew you meant a lot to everyone too, but that normal! You’ve helped them all in some sort of way! Yet he was deep in that unidentifiable emotion towards you. He adores you. All of you. Even during your more impulsive actions he didn’t mind having to heal you. Of course, he would truly rather not heal anyone with his magic. Yet… with you giving his payment in kisses on the cheek or forehead… he can’t stay mad at you.

“Chin up little one.” Cotera lifted up his head “your feelings are valid and has a simple explanation.” Hyrule pouted slightly making her giggle a bit tapping lightly on his nose. “You my dear seem to love your sweet human.”

It was like a lanterned was just lit in a dark cave he was wandering in. Finally revealing a path out. Everything thing slowly explaining itself. “Oh…” was all he could say as he was comprehending it. His sisters were giggling at their brother’s expense causing him to blush. It all made to much sense.

“Roolie! Are you nearby?” He and the Great Fairy both perk up when they heard your voice. He stared up at the Great Fairy expectingly.

“Well?” Cotera nudged him off of the petals of her fountain. “What are you waiting for little one?”

___________________________________

- Well, that was embarrassing and he knows once he starts perusing you. The more his siblings of the forest will start to tease him. Not only that but the chain also catches on pretty quickly.

- He becomes a blushing and stuttering mess around you, not pulling away from your touch but leaning more into him.

- It will be a miracle if he confesses but he will! And he will do it in a more intimate manner though, with or without help.

___________________________________

Four:

- It took long to accept but filled with soft cotton fluff.

- Isn’t canon in the manga that the colors (minus Vio) straight up try to impress a girl they just met?

- Now I’m not saying he is like that now a days, but old habits die hard right. He probably doesn’t even recognize that he still does it.

- Honest to God the resident brain cell is the only one that new point blank what was happening. Having a “not again” moment.

___________________________________

It’s been a while since Four was back in his forage. He missed every second of it. The smithing process was the one hobby each color had in common. As Link they found it relaxing, something to get their mind off of things.

That morning was no different. Traveling on the road was stressful even for a seasoned adventurer. Traveling alone was boring which was the upside according to Red. It relieved them of responsibility Green was used to taking upon himself to carry. Blue was at least a lot calmer with having to be on alert all the time. Vio had pointed out this was mainly because of You.

The chaos came back full force. The same argument has been happening recently, it was about his feelings towards you. Now they all liked you as a friend. Four knew that for a fact. He was only six when he felt your presence and this situation, he was in was as if an imaginary friend became real! At least that’s what Red felt.

No matter if they were unified or separated, Four could trust you to help him out of even the messiest situations. So, what if some of those situations were caused by him trying to impress you? That doesn’t mean anything!

Just because Blue became a stuttering mess when you surprised Four with a flower crown just meant he was taken aback at your kindness! He isn’t good at showing his emotions. Yeah, so what about Green becoming a soft mess when you first showered him in praise and affection. Wouldn’t any person do that from someone that been through hell and back with them? It doesn’t count that Red craves your affection! He is like that with everybody and just because it makes him feel different it doesn’t count. Someone saves Vio from this.

Four was conflicted which is why he was working so early in the morning. They wouldn’t shut up about their own feelings. It was a chaotic mess inside his head as soon as he woke up. A weight on his back clued him back into reality “Good morning!” You while looking down at him smiling still holding on lazily. “How is the most beautiful person here doing?”

Ah. There goes most of composure out the window. Vio was the last one standing with Green and Blue almost hanging on. You loved to tease him and he was never able to get you back. “Don’t know how are you?” Four was really struggling to keep unified and calm. He was shaking because of the other three’s nerves. You stared at him wide eyed.

“Jeez look at you!” You give him a squeeze before finally let go of him “you’ve grown! If only you were that smooth towards Erune.” You teased.

The blush he was so desperately trying to beat down started to flare up this time out embarrassment. “Can we not talk about that?” Four could only cringe when he thought back at that bit in his adventure. Him and Erune have been close friends since then, but the colors were really trying to play the hero in front of the poor girl back then. Their antics truly were really not impressing anyone.

Green was really happy he grew out of it. Seriously it‘s not like Blue really cared about it anyway he was just a kid! Red was just happy that he got a long-term friend out of it! The audacity the others had was killing Vio. They are still just as bad and it seems like no one was listening to reason.

An explosion of emotions and thoughts collided in Four’s skull. Three denying their logical side’s claim all while getting thrown every instant in their faces by the odd one out. “Whatcha making anyway?” You were observing the short knife blade curiosity not seeing the other’s internal debate. Vio felt like he had to spell it out to each of them. Pulling up memories of their actions towards the outlander. Four struggled to focus on what you were saying but it was too loud!

“Woah there.” You turn him away from his project letting it sit safely on a cooler section of the work top. “Breath Link.” You where kneeling down in-front of him holding his hand. He focused on your warmth. The way you rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. On your voice that instructed him to breathe. In for four, hold for seven, let out for eight. Repeat. Slowly the divide melded back together. Soon the voices faded out. “There we go.” You whispered “good job Link.” Four stared back at you still tired from everything but nonetheless happy that your here with him.

Man, he loved you so much.

Wait-

___________________________________

- It was definitely an I told you so moment.

- Four as a whole though is still struggling to come to terms with it, even though he had already admitted his feelings.

- Another case of: drown him in affection until he realized. Not because of him not believing you! It’s just you have four people in a trench coat here! If one is conflicted then four as a whole will feel that subtly.

___________________________________

Bonus (just Headcanons):

Wind (finding out that a Link has a crush on you)

- The little gremlin is going to have a field day! He was thinking about messing around but the other hero is doing his work for him!

- The only one saved from this Black Mail harvest is you. He does have a few things but you mostly let him off the hook when he gets in trouble anyway sooooo…

- Not the best wing man but he honestly isn’t trying. He is just enjoying the journey.

- He might be tempted to help if he was asked but there isn’t much he could do. You are his right hand after all! Why would he let your secrets go so easily?

- Imagine Wind just vibes with you when the other Link is trying their best and you literally ask if the other hero was ok since they are acting weird around you. It would take Wind a minute to get an answer because all he is thinking is: ‘are you dense?’

- Or on the flip side. If you know about their feelings. He would definitely be on board of helping you out. Again, you’re his right hand! Of course, he’ll help you! (Favoritism)

- Wind: “Don't worry. He likes your butt and fancy hair. I know. I read their diary.” (Y/n): “He thinks it's fancy?”

(Part 1) and (Part 2)

My First Request is now done :D! That was fun. Thank you Pinky and Star for the request <3

[cazzyvintage]

Hold on I still need you

Author's note: This was a request from anon, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to it but here you are. I hope you are also doing okay and have a lovely day. If you ever want to chat, any of you, my DM's are always free. I've also decided not to tag anyone in this fic as it deals with triggering themes and I don't want to tag people if it could potentially trigger them. Oh and if for some crazy reason you want to be even sadder I based the plot also on the song 'hold on' by chord oversheet so uh listen to that if you wanna be in the feels.

Synopsis: Request from anon: Can I request a sui*idal reader? Like they have thudding thoughts, the whole day her head is buzzing. Then they decide to do IT (you can decide how) and Zemo walks in and becomes heartbroken and floooooofff pls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF S*ICIDE, if you don't think you'll be okay reading it then please don't, your mental state always comes first, lots of angst followed by slight fluff, overdose

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

They wouldn’t miss you

You’re just an inconvenience to them

He doesn’t care for you. It’s all a huge prank.

It would be better if you leave

You groan in anger, hitting your head slightly to get those thoughts out of your head, but no matter how much you willed it, they would not leave you alone. Each time you tried to resolve one thought, reflecting on reasons why they do like you, your mind instead found persistent reasons for why they didn’t. Every small thing they have done which seemed off weighted down on your mind. Especially Zemo. Why didn’t he kiss you goodbye this week like he had done other weeks? Your logical side tried to argue that he simply forgot, but your paranoia always got the best of you. There is more. There has to be more. Another reason for him to avoid you. To hate you.

You didn’t want to be one of those girls whose entire life revolved around their boyfriend. You had your independence, your responsibilities, your hobbies. But these days they seemed so bland. They didn’t excite you the way they once did. Things you did for fun now felt like a chore to you. Doing anything these days felt exhausting. You knew it was annoying Zemo by how much time you spent in bed, how you stopped organising dates. But how could you find the will to do anything when you were so exhausted of life? It wasn’t as if you wanted life to end for you; it was just that you needed a break from being alive.

If you thought about it, it was the best option, right? You would finally get your peace. Your friends didn’t have to pretend to care about you anymore. Zemo could move on to date someone he actually loved. He wouldn’t feel like he only dated you out of pity. This was the best outcome. It had to be.

One of the worst things was the last walk. Your footsteps echoed along the pavement as you walked to yours and Zemo’s house. It was almost as if everything was going in slow motion for you. The corners of your eyes were blurred as you just concentrated on the path ahead. The usual outside sounds were faded, muffled to you. Instead, that singular voice inside of you rang out clearly.

‘I’m going to do it,’

Just that, again and again inside your head, unrelenting. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself to go through with it by repeating it. Your legs felt like stone as you forced yourself to continue to walk to your resting place. Your breath quickened as you approached the door.

Walking in, you were barely coherent. Zemo was still out. He should be gone for the next few hours. That’s plenty of time. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart as you thought about him. How would he react to seeing you? You didn’t want to think about it and thankfully if all goes to plan you would never would.

You manage to find yourself in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. By the window was the medicine cabinet. Stored full of many painkillers for the headaches Zemo often got. Often his past would come back to haunt him. Shakily your hand reaches up to grasp the door handle and open it up, your eyes focusing on all the orange pill bottles that cluttered it. You weren’t focusing as you reached to grab them, your hands instead accidentally knocking them to the floor.

Swearing under your breath, you rush to pick them up, feeling your eyes water up. Finally, you felt you had enough. Swallowing one last time, you open your mouth and down the hatched.

-

Zemo’s hands clutched the bouquet. The smell of sweet roses floating off them. Roses were typical, but always one of your favourite types of flowers. His hands gently graze against the box held in his trousers pocket. A reminder of the task that had been making him nervous for the last month. To propose. No matter what happened, the time had never felt right. He wanted it to be meaningful, for it to be special. After losing his last family, he wasn’t ready to let someone like you go away.

Still, he worried for you. Your behaviour had changed over the last few months and though he tried to ask you about it, you had always shrugged it off. It was nothing. You were fine. It wasn’t nothing. You weren’t fine, and he hated that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. That is why he was determined tonight was the night. He’d show you just how much you meant to him, and maybe then you would trust him enough to open up.

“Y/n?” he called out as he walked into the house. He’d taken the afternoon off for this moment, preparing it down to the tiniest detail, and finally, it was all falling into place. Now he had to just find you.

“Y/n?” he called out again

He paused, waiting for a response, but furrowed his eyebrows when none came. That was odd. You were always back by this time.

He started to walk around the house, checking in every room for you. As he found every room empty, his voice rose higher as he became more panicked.

Reaching the final floor, his eyes focused on the closed bedroom door, dread pooling into his stomach. The roses slip from his hand and the petals broke off as they hit the ground. His feet were already rushing to the door, his hands reaching for the handle, but no matter how hard he would push it wouldn’t give away.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hitting his fist against the wooden door in a desperate attempt that you might still be awake. He pushed his shoulder against the door with all his strength. The lock strained, giving crack to a single strain of hope for him.

He pushed his weight against it again, and then again, and finally; it broke. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor as the door burst open. He glanced around and his skin went cold as he saw you laying there surrounded by empty pill bottles. His legs folded as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close to his chest. His ears were ringing and his eyes were blurry as his fingers rested against the pulse in your neck, his head resting against your chest as he prayed for something, some sort of life.

A sob echoed from his throat, whaling coming deep from inside his chest. “Please,” he cried out, “Don’t you leave me. Not you too”

The tears streamed down his cheeks, falling on your pale, clammy skin. “Y/n” he whispered, his fingers still pressed against his pulse.

And then if by a miracle he felt it, hardly there, but he felt it, he’s sure he did. A beat.

He had already gathered your body in his arms and was racing you to the car. Ambulances would take too long. He had to get you to the hospital now. He was driving well over the speed limit but fines could easily be paid, your life couldn’t.

He swerves in and out of other cars, desperately trying to avoid any traffic, almost causing traffic by how carelessly he was driving. He could hear the cars honk at him, the expletives shouted, but none of that phased him. All that mattered was getting you to that hospital and thankfully, it paid off. He was at the hospital in a matter of minutes.

Grabbing you off the seat, he runs into the hospital holding you bridal style, screaming for help. The poor receptionist looked traumatised as she saw your ghostly pale head swinging as Zemo rushed towards the desk.

Quickly nurses had grabbed a hospital bed, and Zemo carefully placed you onto it. As they carted you away, Zemo grasped your hand, determined to follow you. He was instead forced to let go of you. He argued relentlessly to them that he needed to be there; he had to be there with you. Didn’t they know who he was? He got everything he wanted if he so asked but now he was forced into the waiting room along with everyone else. He couldn’t be with you, and it was killing him.

He paced around the room anxiously. People watched his stressed-out self as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. Occasionally his hand would flicker down to his pocket where the ring rested and a lump would come to his throat. Every time a nurse came into the waiting room, he would instantly turn to them, hoping that it would be about you. But it wasn’t and so he was left with his thoughts again as he went over in his mind what he had done wrong for you to ever want to do that. It must have been something he did. The way he treated you. Something he said. The blame rested solely on him.

Finally, the nurse came in, looking for him. As soon as she said the words, he was rushing to your room. As he reached it, he burst through the door, his eyes focusing on the bed in front of him.

There you laid peacefully.

Asleep.

But alive.

The next few hours he spent sitting beside you, just staring at your peaceful face, his hand grasping yours. The nurses tried to get him to leave, claiming you would be asleep for a few hours, but he refused. He had to be there when you woke up. He couldn’t imagine leaving you to wake up on your own.

After a few hours, your eyes finally crack open as you awake. As your senses come back to you, you could feel something holding your hand. Moving your head slightly, you saw Zemo beside you.

As soon as you moved your head he perked up and a wave of relief washed over him seeing you awake.

“Y/n, oh thank god,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tightly.

“Zemo? Where am I?” You ask.

“You are at the hospital after you… well,” he trails off, the word getting chocked in his throat as he thought back to what happened.

Your eyes started to swarm with tears as you feel guilt wash over you, knowing what must have happened for you to end up here with Zemo.

“Zemo, I’m so sorry”

“Please don’t apologise, you don’t need to apologise” Zemo instantly says, sorrow deep within his eyes, “But please, tell me what I did wrong. I can’t lose you y/n, so whatever it is, whatever lead you to that tell me”

“Zemo, it isn’t your fault. You’ve been perfect, you always have been. It’s me, it’s all me. It was so stupid of me Zemo, I shouldn’t have put you through something like that”

His grip on your hand tightened as he leaned over to put his hand on the side of your face, making you turn to look at him. “Don’t say that. You are not stupid. Far from it. Now please, tell me the real reason”

You sigh, leaning into his hand. “I didn’t feel worthy of you. Of anyone. I’m tired Zemo, I’m so tired and you deserve someone who can give you their all. And that isn’t me. I don’t feel alright and I’m not sure if I ever will again”

Zemo’s thumb strokes your face in comfort as he looks at you before deciding to get up and get on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug in the tight space you two had. “I love you y/n, if anything I do not deserve you. I understand how you feel and I know you will feel better in time, with help you will be. I will ensure you get the best help and will be with you every step of the way if you will have me”

He clasped you as you cried into his chest, his whispers of comfort and reassurance settling deep within yourself. You knew things would be hard; you knew you would doubt yourself again; you doubt him. But a part of you knew that with Zemo beside you, helping you, loving you. You could pull through.

A/N: If you made it to here I salute you for getting through the angst. Just remember you are never alone and if you are ever feeling in a bad way don't be afraid to reach out, I love you all 💕

[buckyownsmylife]

Lucky - Logan Howlett smut

The one where Logan catches you touching yourself when you’re supposed to be his.

Warnings: masturbation (f), oral sex (f), slight voyeurism, playful possessiveness, reader is a dumbass, Logan is in love, p in v, dirty talk, unprotected sex, a single spank, kind of a cum kink?, creampie

A/N: If a man tries to control when you can orgasm without your consent, please ignore him and get yourself another one. Logan here is obviously jesting and even if he were to create such a rule, he’d only enforce it with his girlfriend’s acceptance, of course. Day 4 of kinktober and the prompts were masturbation + eating out.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

As soon as I hear my room’s door close behind me, the stress of the day started to leave my tense muscles. Just being surrounded by my stuff, that I’d been carefully collecting since my arrival in Charles’ academy four months before, was enough to send the message to my brain: you’re home, relax. No one is going to disturb you here.

It wasn’t necessarily true, of course, which was one of the cons of living in the same place that I worked, but the probability of one of my students coming all the way here to ask for help, advice, or any other sort of guidance was extremely low, thankfully. As 5pm approached, the youngsters too began to relax, opting to look for social activities or hobbies to occupy their time instead of training and studying. In all my time here, no one except teachers had come to bother me in my own bedroom, and even that was extremely rare. Everyone seemed to understand the need for some alone time after a day of responsibilities.

So that’s why this room that was designated to me had this ability to instantly make me feel better, I guess. Up until now, the only other place that managed to make me feel so safe wasn’t actually an environment, but a person.

Logan.

We’d been some sort of unspoken thing for a while now, only about a month. Despite his usual grumpiness that seemed to be directed to keep me away from him right after my arrival, the fact that I didn’t seem to care quickly made him curious, and this curiosity soon became a particular interest in seeing me underneath him, moaning pleasurably in his bed.

He made me feel safe, and the truth was that I didn’t care that after a month, we still hadn’t decided to give a name to what we had. All that mattered to me was that he wanted to spend time with me too and that he treated me right. 

But he’d been gone for the last four days on a special mission assigned by Professor X, so that meant that my current situation couldn’t really be blamed solely on my student’s behavior for the day. Oh, no. This particular tension came after my body had grown accustomed to being treated to multiple orgasms night after night, only to be abruptly denied those treats.

I missed him. I hadn’t had to touch myself in over a month and I’d spent the last few nights depriving myself of it because I knew I could never give myself the kind of pleasure that Logan could. Only he wasn’t here, and I was going crazy, especially since no one had any idea of when he would be back.

I needed him.

So I decided to grant me at least some sort of relief, as pathetic as it’d be, in the hopes of calming my longing body. The first thing I did was strip down to nothing. My favorite pampering activity was a nice warm bath after a stressful day of classes, and from Logan’s comments, I knew he liked it when I took the time to lather myself up in essential oils, too. On more than one occasion he commented that it made me smell “good enough to eat”.

It was only after said bath that I laid down on my still-made bed, spread out to appreciate the silkiness of my own skin after a good hydration session. The smell of coconuts from my favorite cream helped to ease me into the right state of mind, that I so desperately needed so I could start softly running my fingers over my thighs without that stupid inner voice that wanted to make me recoil in embarrassment.

I was a grown woman in the privacy of her own room. It was stupid to be timid about needing to touch myself, so I focused on the desire I could feel rising through me, and not on any other pop-up thought that insisted on making its way into my brain.

It became a lot easier when I thought about my lover.

Oh, how I wished Logan was here. He’d love to see me in this position, legs spread open for his eyes to take. Only the thought of his piercing eyes fixated in my naked body was enough to get me wet, and that elicited another memory of him. How he’d groan when the smell of my juices hit his nose, immediately prompting him to get on his knees in front of me and bury his head between my thighs. He’d lap me up eagerly, hungrily, like I was an entire feast dedicated to him after a life of restraint. As passionate a lover as Logan was, I don’t think there was anything he loved more than eating pussy.

If he was here, he’d say mine was the only one that provoked such an animalistic reaction from him. I’d laugh, refusing to believe anything that came out of his mouth when all he could think about was burying himself inside of me, but I’d blush nonetheless. A part of me wanted to believe I was special to him, despite his years and the number of women he’d most certainly laid with, mostly because he was special to me, too. 

But I couldn’t afford this sort of thought, so I opted to focus on the memory of how Logan’s tongue felt against my clit. I let a single finger touch it, trying to mirror the same pattern of movement he’d make. It was nowhere near the same sensation, but it was enough to prompt me to release a little moan of pleasure.

We were starting to get somewhere.

Logan’s P.O.V.

After four long days of fuckery, the only thing I could think about was going back home straight to my girl’s arms. So as soon as we were through the academy’s doors, I took the stairs two at a time to go directly into her room, having memorized her schedule long enough to know that she’d most likely be there. 

No one tried to get in my way. They knew better.

Much to my surprise, as I approached the now familiar doors to her room, a familiar scent engulfed me, prompting me to tune into the sweet sounds that I’d dreamed about these last nights. They were very discreet, but for someone with my enhanced abilities and extreme focus on her body and reactions, it was very obviously there.

Blindly, I reached for her door, slowly pushing it open and welcoming the warmth and overwhelming perfume that I’d come to associate with her presence, especially during the times she was releasing these delicious little moans. Immediately, my ears picked up on another, much dirtier tune: the squelching sounds her fingers elicited from her sweet pussy as she fucked herself.

I almost fell to my knees, as my legs suddenly lost the ability to keep me upright, but I was able to hold myself back just in time. Wouldn’t want to miss the show, especially when it was making me so fucking hard. 

Finally venturing further into the room, I came face to face with the beauty waiting for me. She hadn’t noticed my arrival yet, too preoccupied with her pleasurable activities, her eyes closed shut in concentration as her mouth fell open in that delicious silent scream I liked to swallow so much.

I watched as she touched herself a bit more, attentively looking for the telling signs that she was close to her release, and just when the muscles on her thigh began to clench, I leaned over her and wrapped my hand around her wrist, pulling her fingers from inside her cunt. The surprised gasp she let out made me smirk.

I sucked on her fingers, enjoying my first taste of her after what felt like forever. A deep groan erupted from my chest at her sweetness invading my mouth. “Missed me?” I teased when I finally reopened my eyes to find her staring back at me with a lustful expression.

“You have no idea just how much,” was her answer. I was enough of a man to feel proud of her response, but it also became clear just how much I had actually become soft for the woman under me - a stark contrast to the hardness I could feel restricting my jeans.  

When she first arrived at the academy, I hadn’t expected her to become as important to me as she had now, but just as I struggled to take off my clothes as quickly as possible before kneeling before the bed, pulling her by the ankles so she was spread out just in front of my face, I couldn’t really deny it. I’d do anything to keep her with me, just like this.

“I think I have some idea of it…” I teased her just as I softly ran my fingers over her pussy lips, simply collecting the wetness that had gathered there.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

He once more wrapped his lips over his wet fingers and moaned at my taste in his mouth. “How are you this fucking sweet?” Was all he asked before he delved right in, parting my thighs with his large hands and licking from my puckered hole to my clit. 

“Fuck!” I cursed, throwing one of my hands over my head, to find something to hold onto, while the other found its way into his hair, pulling on it just the way I knew he liked. I felt his groan reverberating through me before he chuckled, briefly stopping his ministrations to stare up at me with his lower face dripping from my wetness.

“I love when I can make you curse.” Biting my lip, I accepted that I couldn’t retaliate his teasing while he continued to eat me out. His tongue easily engulfed my whole pussy, so just that was enough to bring me to the edge of an orgasm in a way I could never grant it to myself. “Come on, sweet girl,” he admonished, slapping my thigh. “Ride my face. Give me what I came here for.”

I obeyed him without even thinking about it. This was just how it was when it came to us. He asked me to strip, my panties were on the floor before he finished his sentence. He ordered me to get on my knees, my mouth was instantly watering at the sight of him.

But God, did he deliver. My compliance came very easily when it came to a man like him, so eager to please beyond what his body could already offer. I’d been with many men before who, while obviously not as well-endowed as him, had been on the bigger side, and they always left me needing more, like they believed their dick’s length was enough to satisfy me without any real effort from their part.

Not Logan, though. Oh, no. Logan thrived on making me cum, over and over again. He liked to say he’d live on my pussy alone if possible, and by the way he very hungrily ate me out for hours on end at times, I knew he was being honest.

I sometimes liked to entertain the idea that I was the one who brought out that side of him, but I knew better. Someone like Logan had a lot of experience, I was dumb to think that I might be somewhat special to him, somehow. So I didn’t.

Instead, I allowed the filthy sounds of my wetness being gurgled down by him to bring me back to this moment, choosing to focus instead on how delicious his tongue felt against my clit, how he happily accepted my movements as I buckled up, in search of my orgasm.

I was right over the edge, in need of just a little something else to push me over it when Logan suddenly decided to open his eyes and focus them on me. The sight of his darkened eyes and dilated pupils was enough to make me throw my head back against the soft pillows of my bed as I reached bliss.

When the stars of light disappeared from my vision and I came to my senses, Logan was still in the same spot in front of me, his thumbs softly caressing the inside of my thighs. “You’re back with me, darlin’?” He asked in that deliciously gruff voice of his, and I shivered, nodding breathlessly as I wetted my lips. “So now, let’s have a talk. Who said you could touch yourself while I’m away, huh?”

I blinked once, then twice. My mouth was slightly agape as I looked down at Logan, still sprawled out for his viewing pleasure while my mind raced to make sense of his words. “I-I don’t understand,” I finally confessed, my eyes following his movement as he climbed up on the bed until we were face to face for the first time since his return.

Logan’s P.O.V.

I tsked teasingly, leaning down to deposit a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. “I asked you…” I breathed out on her ear, watching as goosebumps raised over her skin. “... who said you could touch yourself, darlin'. Because last I checked…” I cupped her cunt with one of my hands, chuckling lightly at how I was able to cover it with my palm. “... this pussy was mine and only mine.”

“I-it was?” Now, hold my heart (and my cock) but she just looked too fucking cute with that confused look on her face, her eyebrows frowned as she stared at me like I had grown two fucking heads.

“Of course, sweetheart. Now, I know we hadn’t talked about this before, so I’ll let your pretty little ass spank free this time, but be warned…” I leaned over her again, my nose touching hers as I felt her little breaths against my own lips. “... next time you’re feeling horny, you ask your boyfriend to help you deal with it. And if he’s not around, you wait.”

Now, I was expecting some kind of reaction from my little rule, and I was 100% ready to negotiate, but what I wasn’t expecting was for her eyes to grow twice their size as she suddenly sat up on the bed, forcing me to lean back and take a seat, too.

“Boyfriend?” She definitely looked confused, her eyes searching mine for something I didn’t know since I was just as puzzled. Opting to stay silent, I simply stared back at her, both of my eyebrows raised high as I waited for her explanation. “You mean… you?”

The familiar fire of anger rose up quickly inside my chest, and I had to curl my hands into fists to control myself. “Of course it’s me, who the fuck would it be? Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

Rationally, I knew my problem was less anger and more disappointment. I’d let my guard down for her - way too quickly, faster than I’d done for anyone else throughout my life. And I’d done it because she touched my heart in a way no one else had. I was falling for her, and I thought she felt the same way too.

“NO! Of course not!” She all but jumped, her hands reaching out to cradle my face and I found myself actually relaxing against her touch, as my heartbeat started to slow down at the knowledge that she really was all mine. “I just… I didn’t know… I didn’t think we were dating. I thought you saw me as…”

She didn’t seem to have the courage to finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. I understood what she meant, and as realization fell upon me, I found myself throwing my head back and full-on laughing, much to her displeasure. When I managed to calm down, she was pouting at me, which only made the arousal that had dissipated by the fear reappear that much stronger.

“Oh, darlin’...” I started, pulling on her ankles to force her on her back again as I hovered over her, watching, analyzing. “I’ve fucked you every single night for the last month. Now, I know I’m not the kind to talk about my feelings, but I figured that made it pretty obvious…”

Leaning down, I took possession of her mouth to give her a breathtaking kiss, forcing her to accept my eager tongue, to taste herself on my lips. Then I went further, kissing her jaw, her neck, until I reached her collarbones, where I sucked a bruise, all the while rubbing my aching cock against her clit before pushing it inside of her in one forceful thrust. 

“... You’re mine. Only mine. Mine to fuck, mine to bruise and mark, mine to cum into.” Her mouth immediately fell open at the feeling of my hardness stretching her open, and I couldn’t help the smirk that took over my lips. “You okay with that, sweetheart?” I asked, waiting for her to adjust to the feeling of being invaded as I nibbled on her earlobe.

Finally, after a few minutes of her struggling to breathe as I felt her squeezing my biceps, she nodded. “Y-yeah.” Grinning, I took that as an okay to start moving and immediately started to pound her against the mattress, just like I loved and had come to learn that she did, too. Her nails bit on my flesh, but it only added to my own arousal, making me growl against the skin of her chest.

“This fucking pussy… You really thought I’d just treat you like a fuckbuddy?” Abruptly pulling out of her, I manhandled her onto her hands and knees before pushing her face down against the mattress, all the while laughing at the little scream of surprise she let out. “I’m never gonna stop fucking you, pretty thing. You better watch out.”

She was moaning desperately now, just how I’d dreamt of hearing while I was away from her, and it made my sack even heavier as it slapped against her clit with each thrust I gave. “Fuck… ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart. Do you want it? Say you want my cum in your pretty little pussy, come on.”

After a gasp that followed my slap on her ass, she flipped her head back, looking at me with those fucking sultry eyes that I loved so damn much. “Please, Logan, cum inside of me. Wanna feel it dripping from me, please, I need it so bad.” And this is why I was convinced she was some sort of siren or whatever. The second that our eyes connected, I was fulfilling her wishes, releasing all of my milky cum inside of her throbbing pussy, as she came at the same time as me.

Once I was able to breathe again, after having thrown myself by her side on the bed, I pulled her so she’d rest her face on my chest, chuckling to myself over how much of a cuddle lover I’d become ever since we’d started sleeping together.

“Hey, Logan,” she called out my attention, making me hum in response as I looked down to find her staring up expectantly at me. “I hope you know that this goes both ways.” I blinked twice as I waited for her words to make sense to me, but before they did, she was giggling, already clarifying her meaning. “You’re mine too.”

To say that those words filled me with the happiest kind of warmth would be an understatement. I didn’t know what to say, I’d never been good at this lovey-dovey shit, so I settled for pulling her back to me again and giving her forehead a kiss.

“Believe me, darlin’... I know.”

[aghostlybao]

filipino!bobby? filipino!bobby.

au where bobby is not trevor (aka trevor is his and carrie’s pa) : modern day edition where alex, luke, and reggie are alive

he’s a second gen immigrant, his mother being philippine-born, making carrie their half-sister.

bobby is protective of his ma (she’s still alive but her and trevor are divorced), because he’s had to witness racism/microaggression directed at his ma.

point above is the common reasons they got into fights as a kid (only increased as they grew up and learnt more about those issues).

bobby’s ma once confronted him about a fight that got him suspended he punched another kid and was considered ‘rude/troublesome’ by his teacher and principal. seeing his ma cry and stress over the whole school situation prompted them to tell her the reason for the fight. the kid had made fun of his ma being a nanny.

^ why he’s the mom friend. they learnt to be independent at a young age to make his ma’s life easier.

bobby was pretty short as a kid, and had a late grow spurt that shook luke cause dude ur voice? hella deep <3

he and his ma are a part of this lil filipino community in l.a. it’s also where he met kayla (who was nearly named princess).

trevor wasn’t immune to the so called l.a. rock n roll lifestyle but he finally decided to get better, starts going to therapy cause he doesn’t want to miss another child of his growing up.

bobby finally met trevor and it wasn’t a great meeting in general. made it clear right off the bat that they didn’t need him in their life cause they were doing ok.

but his ma got sick to the point she needed to be hospitalized, bobby was ready to quit school and not bother with high school at all in favor of finding a full time job. medical bills on top of their monthly ones are expensive. trevor had a heart to heart with bobby “i know how important she is to you but you’re still a kid, bobby. you’re allowed to be selfish, to argue for your wants, it isn’t your job to make your mother’s life easier. she’s not your responsibility.”

those words made them breakdown, it’s perhaps the first time he cried in front of someone (bonus: it’s the first time he and trevor shared a hug) because while bobby undeniably loves his ma, there is still that pressure for him to be more mature than his age, to be well behaved, and excel. the expectation to know everything right off the bat is drilled into his mind. it wasn’t something he shared or spoke about. so trevor telling him that it’s okay to ask for help? prompted him into giving trevor a chance to be a part of their life.

making music with luke and eventually alex and reggie was their way of letting their feelings out. he’s written several songs he hasn’t shared with the band, cause they were more than happy to be dragged along by luke’s energy.

his mother remarried and he began to stay @ trevor’s home more. they still talk and often meet up, occasionally spends the holidays together and has a great relationship with his half-siblings but they can’t deny that living with trevor felt like a big relief.

the arguments/reconciliations/support/the open discussions about their thoughts, and feelings lifted a big weight off his shoulders.

he would take carrie with him to the lil community gatherings he and his ma often attended (she met kayla there) to show her a bit about filipino culture.

bobby, carrie, and kayla would play nanay tatay (filipino clapping game) they still do to this day.

carrie absolutely loves the nights bobby is cooking, more so when he cooks sopas or his version of spaghetti.

the first tagalog word carrie learnt is kuya (brother) and perhaps he cried i mean who wouldn’t when picturing smol carrie asking her kuya for a piggyback or something?

alex, luke, and reggie knows several tagalog phrases/words. they picked it up over the years of friendship (yep, they know how to swear in tagalog and kain na! aka time to eat). consider him surprised when they insisted that they can tell carrie that the food is ready. tbfh they only wanted to hear which of them could shout ‘kain na’ the loudest.

though his pronunciation needs more work, reggie knows more tagalog than luke and alex. bobby doesn’t know what to do with that fact. first thing reggie independently learnt is how to say ‘home is where my horse is’ (my tagalog is rusty af so i won’t even try to translate it but bahay = house/home && kabayo = horse nvm imma give it a go) ang bahay ko ay kung saan ang kabayo ko (???????)

ube flavored ice cream <3

also arcades and basketball are their other hobbies apart from making music

several sunset curve gigs were at filipino festivals like samahan cultural arts festival in san diego/historic filipinotown festival in l.a. (thnx to this they ended up with an international fan base before they even secured a gig @ the orpheum).

this ended up a lot longer than expected but i have no regrets.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

[scripttorture]

I'm trying to write a character who gets depression/anxiety after a few days of torture, but I'm worried that from an outside perspective the tiredness, lack of interest, and hyper vigilance are going to look like the character has been beaten down into meekness/compliance by the torture. Any advice on how to avoid the trope that this character was broken by their expeience when most days they're too tired to argue about anything and are slowly checking out of life due to the depression?

That’s a really good question. I think the best thing to do is combine several different approaches rather then relying on one particular thing.

 My first piece of advice holds true for writing any kind of minority experience. If you think you could be suggesting that an entire group has a particular feature/characteristic include another character from the same group who doesn’t. The more characters you have who are torture survivors the easier it is to show that they’re a diverse bunch with different symptoms and experiences.

 They don’t need to be major characters. They don’t need to be in the story for very long. But having them there makes a big difference.

 This is a lot easier if you’re talking about legally defined torture in a prison of some kind. But if that’s not the kind of story you’re telling consider bringing other survivors in during the character’s recovery. They could meet people while waiting to see the same doctor or mental health professional. They might be advised to join a group, either for group therapy or communal support. They might meet people while looking for financial support or jobs. If they’re religious they might be introduced to people through their priest or broader religious community.

 The next thing worth thinking about is: what can your character practically do?

 We have this tendency to conflate resistance with big, obvious, violent acts. Most of the time torture victims are not in a position to do that kind of thing. And in situations where people are held for a very long time (ie slavery, prisoner of war camps etc) what you tend to see are a lot of smaller or less obvious acts. Enslaved people did oppose slavery violently, with organised military action and with smaller acts of violence like poisoning slave owners.

 But they also did a host of other things. They sabotaged equipment or products they were supposed to produce. They broke valuable objects. They provided each other with material support and aid. They escaped and set up separate societies. They channelled resources into these societies. They aided others in escape attempts.

 It’s always worth thinking about what your character can actually practically do and what the risks or consequences of those actions might be.

 I talk about that in a post over here. Characters can take meaningful action even when they can’t take effective action. It’s worth taking the time to think about what would be meaningful to this character and figure out ways to show them prioritising it.

 It’s also worth considering what depression and anxiety can look like because yes, the features you describe are common in people with depression and anxiety. But they’re not necessarily constant and they’re not the only ways these conditions manifest.

 Depression can look like sleeping all the time. It can also look like not sleeping and a lack of sleep feeds into anxiety. Insomnia also causes paranoia after a while, makes it harder to interpret other people’s responses and can increase the risk of violent behaviour.

 Similarly depression can look like eating a lot, but it can also look like nausea, like being unable to eat full meals and struggling to keep food down. From the outside anxiety can be read as fear but it can also be read as aggression.

 It wouldn’t be unrealistic for this character to be more depressed at times and more anxious at others. It wouldn’t be unrealistic for them to be incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and less able to see the risk in something like… spitting on a guard some days even if they’re generally incredibly tired, lethargic and apathetic.

 Basically even if this is the predominant way depression and anxiety manifest in this character there’s still leeway. There’s still moments when you can have them go against that. Even if it isn’t very often.

 The choice to use an outside perspective does make things harder. Especially if that perspective is a character who believes these kinds of tropes and has a poor understanding of mental health. One way to get around this is to have the point of view character’s perspective change with time and have them come to (and lead the audience to) the conclusion that they were wrong.

 But the character doesn’t need to reach that realisation if you work in enough signals to the reader that they’re unreliable. One way to do that is to contrast what the point of view character thinks with what the survivor character actually says and does.

 Let’s say the point of view character is having a conversation with another person who isn’t a survivor and they present the survivor as this sad case, broken by what they experienced because of a specific behaviour. Like sleeping a lot or being listless or not engaging with things in the way they used to.

 On it’s own that scene could easily back up these tropes (though it’s not an unrealistic scene because these tropes are commonly believed.) So let’s imagine the scene with the survivor’s response.

 They could respond that they sleep a lot because they have chronic pain or because their depression makes it hard to eat properly which leaves them exhausted. Physical symptoms like that are often easier for people to understand and it underlines the point that this is illness not some state where they’re permanently incapable. They can also respond with the steps they’re taking to try and make their life better. For chronic pain in torture survivors that can mean medication or physiotherapy. Perhaps they’re working on changing their diet or the schedule they eat at and sleep at, to work around these physical limits.

 You can apply the same kind of logic to the other points here, talk about why depression makes the character listless or stops them engaging and what they’re doing now. The aids that help them focus, how therapy is going, the new hobbies they’re exploring instead (perhaps because old ones contain triggers.)

 It’s harder to apply the same thing if the character is still imprisoned and still being tortured. But you can still do it. May be the dreams and plans the victim character had before seem meaningless now, but there will still be things they want to do and there will still be things they find meaning in.

 May be they don’t think they can be a Nobel prize winning doctor any more and may be to an outside perspective that looks like ‘broken’. But it’s harder for the audience to agree with that conclusion if the victim character is saying ‘My priorities are different now. I regret spending so much time working and I miss my family. If I get out I want to make them my focus instead of work.’

 A self aware character might be able to say ‘I don’t think I could achieve that dream anymore. But I think I could achieve this instead.’

 You can have other characters, doctors, psychologists or anyone who has worked with survivors for a long period, refute the idea these people are broken. Hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re incapable of living or of living well.

 If the perspective is more of an omnipresent narrator you’ve got more scope to show little acts of resistance the character might be engaging in. You’ve also got more scope to just straight up tell the readers what’s going on in this character’s head.

 It’s worth stressing that characters like this do still have and make choices. They are choices in incredibly awful situations and they are not free choices. But that capacity to choose is still there. And there are understandable, though not always rational, thought processes behind those choices.

 Depression doesn’t always mean checking out of life. I’ve known a fair number of people with depression who kept going with things they considered important. They just also… got no enjoyment out of it. They were miserable and in pain. But they were still trying to do the best they could for their kids or finish their degree. These efforts weren’t always successful. Depression makes most things more difficult.

 But a character willing to give up on themselves isn’t necessarily willing to give up on other things.

 At the end of the day the symptoms you choose for your character and how those symptoms manifest isn’t the problem. There’s nothing wrong with picking the symptoms that are right for your character and there’s nothing wrong with writing them in this way.

 The problem comes when we start telling people that there’s no hope, that nothing gets better. It comes when we imply that natural, physiological reactions to trauma are somehow the fault of the victim or that those reactions mean they are forever controlled by their abuser.

 Torture is an awful, effecting and life changing experience. It leaves lasting wounds.

 But humans are incredibly resilient, stubborn creatures. Our capacity for survival, to find ways to live well, is astounding.

 There’s room for optimism here and it’s worth making space for that in your story.

 I hope that helps :)

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[merryhelps]

                  plotting etiquette : a players guide

                                            [ coming soon / an admins guide ] 

plotting is an essential part to writing together; whether you’re in a group, an indie blog or even a 1x1, you need to be able to communicate with your peers in order to build a story. and that’s why we’re all here, right? to create worlds, no matter what the context, and most importantly, to do this with others. roleplaying is a team effort - no matter what universe you’re writing in.  below the cut are some helpful tips, tricks and advice to remember when attempting to plot with others. if you’ve found this guide useful, please like and/or reblog to spread the word - and hopefully help out others along the way.                               ***a part two will be out next week for admins on how to promote and help your group with plotting. 

                             i. ‘i’m scared of bothering people!’

this is a statement i’ve seen the most often around the rpc - whether it’s from a various text post people reblog, or as an admin who’s been on the receiving end of messages like this. 

it’s important to remember that most of us get a little nervous about reaching out. while writing original pieces or fanfiction can give you some distance between the creating portion and the feedback process, there’s no real space for roleplaying. it’s an instantaneous thing - we put our words out there on the screen, and someone else has to reply to that in some capacity.

whether you’re an extrovert, an introvert or something in between, this can often be the beginning of the end for a lot of roleplayers. maybe  you’ve joined an established group, and it seems like everyone has set dynamics and you don’t want to shake things up. or maybe you’re an indie blog, but you’re too scared to talk to someone you’ve idolized and want to write with. 

the thing is, you can’t expect people to know what you want if you can’t verbalize it yourself. let them know you’re a little nervous ! chances are, they are too. we’re all on this platform trying to do the same thing, and everyone gets nervous about exposing themselves to strangers now and again. ultimately, we put a little piece of ourselves in every character we create, and that can be terrifying to show to people and expect them to accept. but a little effort goes a long way - making the first move can often help build a bridge to someone you might not have otherwise gotten the chance to write with.  you’re going to have to take a risk sometimes. while not everyone is going to be receptive, most people will be. and chances are, if you start with something as simple as “hi, i’d love the chance to write / plot with you,” you’ll be met with an extraordinarily excited new partner. understand that if they don’t, it’s not a bad thing ! some writing styles don’t mesh together, some people have a harder time talking freely than others, and so many of us regularly forget to reply to a message. know that if you’ve put yourself out there, that’s a huge step in the right direction, no matter what comes of it, and next time it’ll be even easier. 

                            ii. come prepared.

this is ultimately where a lot of players fall short. it’s one thing to say ‘let’s plot’, and another thing to do it altogether. you need to have some sort of jumping off point. 

some ideas include: 

a prompt / plot idea. 

this is especially important if it’s a new person you’re trying to interact with. it’s difficult to come up with things on the spot, and if you’re reaching out, you need to have something to reach out with. 

in a group you’ll want to take the time to read their biography / about / wanted connections if they have them listed. it’s a quick way to ensure you have a basis of what they want, and how you and your characters can then fill those needs. 

as an indie / 1x1 see if they have any ‘wanted plots’ or ‘prompts’ tags. check out their ask memes tags. ensure you’ve read their guidelines on both of these, and follow them. while most people have similar rules, you can’t know that for sure unless you’ve read through them. 

questions about their character(s).

everyone adores talking about their own characters - give them an opportunity to let them tell you about theirs! even if they’re playing a canon character, they’ll have their own take on them, with headcanons and quirks and hobbies that might not show up in the specific canon the character comes from. 

use ask memes if you need help coming up with questions - ask memes are extraordinarily helpful when it comes to fleshing out muses for developmental purposes as it is, and while they’re usually made for general tumblr interaction, they can be a great jumping off point for talking specifics. 

don’t be afraid to point out things in their bio / about / etc. this shows that you’ve gone through and read their pages, which shows that you care about them as a person and a character, and not merely another faceclaim. 

talk about your character(s).

it’s always good, especially in a group, to have a small statement of facts about your character. in business, this is called an ‘elevator pitch’ - a few concise sentences that can get someone else interested.

for example, merrick wood is a former cheerleader who would do absolutely anything for her sister, holly, has no real ambitions and loves the weird and supernatural. you can find her swimming, or listening to mix cd’s she makes for her own amusement, or even on the hunt for big foot. this now gives the other player a few things to pick through - what kind of music is she listening to? why is her sister so important to her? is cheerleading still important enough for her to mention it to someone?

                           iii. plotting is a two way street.

the above two points work on the basis that you’ve made the first move - but say you’re the one who’s gotten the message of someone eager to plot with you ! takes a little stress off of your plate, but adds to their own. no matter what, remember that there is a real person on the other side of the screen. be kind, and treat them how you’d want to be treated - even if you’re not interested in writing with them, let them know ! a simple thanks for the message! i’m honored you’re interested in my characters, but at the moment i don’t think we’d be a good fit is enough of a response that most people should leave it at that. if you get a message saying they’re not interested, simply say ‘thank you for replying!’ and move on. as stated above, not everyone will always click - respect people’s boundaries, and understand that you’ll find a new partner in due time. 

responding to plotting messages is as important as creating them; if someone says they want to plot and gives you ideas, play off of them. don’t simply say ‘okay!’ or ‘cool!’ - a habit a lot of people have had over the years. 

                example. if jenny says “i think it would be great if robert could surprise them with flowers,” reply wth “oh how cute!!!” and end there - expand on it, adding your own input - “that’s so cute! denise adores lilacs, and would be flustered to get them from someone she admires so much!”                     the latter sentence gives your partner something to respond to, something to work with, and may just end up being in the thread you write together! 

                          iv. don’t make your admins do all the work.

this section is primarily for group roleplayers. 

your admin(s) already do so much. behind the scenes, there’s constantly updating the main pages, queueing ads, coming up with tasks and events and plot drops to keep players entertained and happy. at the same time, they’re trying to play in the group with you - create their own stories, write their own characters. they should not have to spoon feed you plots. these are things you need to develop on your own and with fellow players. 

               example. in a town rp, and you have a social butterfly character ? throw a birthday party for a character, giving the other characters something to participate in without an official Admin Sponsored Event.                    you should of course ensure the admin is okay with you having ‘events’ like the above for various players, and you need to ensure you’re inclusive in them - don’t ‘throw a party’ and not invite half the group because you don’t want to plot with them. take the time to message players of characters who might not normally show up and figure out something else with them, or a reason why they would be there or even why they wouldn’t! 

                         v. stop bubbling.

at the end of the day, plotting together is the best way to stop bubbling from happening in your group. no one wants to be the player left out of everything - make sure to try and reach out to the others, especially if you think other players may be ignoring them. writing together - in a group, on an indie, anywhere really - is supposed to be fun and challenging and a different experience every time.  before you go to your admins about being left out / ignored, ask yourself if you’ve done the above. have you messaged other players ? asked them about their characters, and given ideas of potential prompts for the two of you to write ? if you have, and you’re still getting ignored, then absolutely talk to your admin team! but try and be proactive instead of reactive and you’d be amazed at how far you can go. 

                                    hopefully this guide will help you - remember, your roleplay experience is ultimately cultivated by yourself. you choose which groups to apply to, which characters to bring, and your attitudes and behaviors can affect your gameplay. being in a group, specifically, is about being a part of a team. become a team player, and you and your characters can find the roleplay family of your dreams  ♡

[mammons-tax-returns]

HDJXKDKFF I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I NEEDED THIS PLEASE FORGIVE ME THIS WAS SO TIME CONSUMING AND FOR WHAT>> TO SATISFY MY DYSPHORIA/fA<>>A???

synapsis ; Satan and MC often discuss the plot lines of their favorite books, but this time, it’s a little bittersweet

✖️MALE MC✖️ comfort, kinda sad, fluff?

MC could practically feel the past few sleepless nights tugging at his limbs. He yawned into his hand. “I probably shouldn’t have pulled an all nighter last night, huh?” He chuckled a little to make light of the situation.

Satan sighed helplessly, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. “I told you this would happen. You’d better watch yourself before I force you to get proper hours of sleep.” His emerald eyes never left the pages of his most recent favorite novel series.  “Lucifer isn’t as worried for your grades considering you won’t be here for as long as us.”

“That’s true...  But even still, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Luci.” MC rubbed his eyes a bit before responding.

There was only a scoff in response from the blonde, along with mutters definitely slandering his older brother.

“But never mind that.  Wanna update me on your book?” MC grabbed his own book from the table to his side and took a seat on Satan’s bed.  He has learned from experience that Satan read books far beyond his comprehension level-- far beyond the comprehension level of some of the smartest demons as well.  But the plots are interesting enough that listening to Satan relay the insights to him has become a hobby. 

“Well....  Amanthy ends up saving the prince from the monster right in the nick of time, but get this;  the two of them don’t get married.”  MC finally gets to see Satan’s eyes when he looks up in mild excitement.  They’re blazing so brightly that it nearly burns him as he watches them.  This normally happened when Satan was allowed to rant about a book.

“Amanthy calls off the marriage because he didn’t think that the prince was strong enough to be with him on his journey.  I really recommend you reading this part at the very least.  Now that you know what’s actually happening in it, you can focus on how incredibly this author deepens the understanding of Amanthy and his intents.”

Amanthy...  Would you really end it all just like that?  MC found himself wondering.  It must have been the fact that MC projected him and Satan onto the two ex-love birds in the novel.  Amanthy was clearly a sophisticated book-loving mage similarly to Satan, and the prince was a simple man in a foreign world trying to figure everything out.  Just like MC being thrown into the Devildom.  Together, the two fought and travelled together.

As childish as it is, MC was hopeful that they would end up together in the end, just because of his crush on Satan.  And hearing the news about their wedding almost felt like a personal attack.

He can’t respond immediately.  “Oh.” He breathes, “That’s surprising...  I, uh.  Did not expect that.”  A small laugh.  How was he supposed to answer?

“I feel the same.  It was not hinted at in the slightest...”  Satan held his chin between his thumb and index finger.  “But I understand Amanthy.  I mean, looking at it realistically...  The prince had his sword, and even with the little magic he had, surely he could have fought the beast instead of waiting for it to kill him...  Amanthy is a strong man, and I’m not sure how well he’d hold up being with someone like that.”

“Hmm.  Interesting...  This whole plot was just one turn after another.  You really have an eye for good books...  The beginning of that story was a bit slow.” MC tried to seem as invested as possible.  But it was proving to be much more difficult than it seemed.  Although he knew Satan can’t be held accountable for something like this...  Does he really think that Amanthy was in the right?

There was a knot forming in the very bottom of his stomach.  So then, would he do the same thing in that situation?  Would he really drop me if he had to save me like that?

“The story certainly did pick up speed...  Even I was impressed.  But it truly added to the character development!  Amanthy is a smart man for what he did, and he’s really selling it to me.  I wonder if that shopkeeper from the last chapter will reappear...”  He flipped several pages back as if to see if it was hinted at anywhere.  “She looked like a better fit for our bookworm protagonist...  Or maybe he’s better off on his own?”

MC’s mood just seemed to be going down a never ending decline.  The shopkeeper?  Who was literally everything that he wasn’t?

Satan continued before MC could comment, “The prince was always a bit of a dead weight, I can admit.  There were times that I found myself criticizing him for little things, but never fully disliked him...  Although there was much more to him than his exterior, I suppose.”

Okay, now this was a full blown call out post for MC.  The prince getting called a dead weight for the protagonist?  Suddenly, MC constantly having to be reminded by Satan to sleep seemed a little more daunting.

“So that’s how you look at it...” MC hummed and buried his face in his book, careful with his phrasing and hoping that the intuitive male in front of him couldn’t pick up on his hurt.

“Of course...  How would you see it?” Satan leaned a little closer.

This man will be the end of me, and he won’t even know it.

MC cleared his throat and shifted a little out of discomfort. “I mean...  I guess I sympathize with the prince a little.  He hasn’t really gotten the chance to protect himself...  A-And that’s the first time he’s been left with such a powerful beast, right?  Just a few weeks ago, he was in his castle watching the knights spar, and now he’s here defending himself alone.” Don’t seem suspicious, MC.  You got this.  You can do this at the very least, can’t you?  “Amanthy had a good connection with him.  I can’t believe he’d just overlook that because the prince needs help understandably.  I mean, isn’t that what a lover is for?  To love and support?”

Satan’s lips tugged into a simple smile.  “Ahh, so that’s how it is.  I’m surprised you can pay so much attention right now when you’ve barely slept.  You could barely keep your eyes open earlier.” He playfully ruffled MC’s hair.

His affectionate touch stung, and his words stabbed deep into MC’s core.  He knew no harm was meant, and yet he couldn’t help but feel horrible.  Why couldn’t he just listen to Satan’s nagging?

“But your opinion is just as strong as mine!” MC added quickly, hoping that Satan didn’t think he was disregarding him.  “Maybe calling off the wedding was the right choice in the end...  After all, the prince was kinda shady in the first few chapters right?  Maybe he’ll prove to be the bad guy.”

Satan seemed to think it over for a moment.  “ I suppose...  But the prince is a bit more respectful than that, don’t you think?”

And now he’s defending the prince?  Make up your mind already, MC silently thought.

“Y-Yeah, I guess so...” Am I as respectful as him, someone of literal royalty? MC breathed out slowly.  Even if I am, what difference does that make, Satan?

Some time passed after that, and MC couldn’t get passed a single page in his book.  His mind was a confusing jumble of thoughts.  Some of them hoped that Satan would react differently if proposed the same situation.  And some justified Amanthy’s decision in a sickening submission to his situation.  His ‘situation’ is an inevitable unrequited love for Satan.  And now he’s aware that Satan probably wouldn’t consider someone like him as a spouse even if given the chance.  Great.

“MC?  If you’re tired you should sleep.”

The (H/C) haired male jumped.  He looked up to see Satan way too close for comfort at the moment.  He felt himself flush.  “I’m not!  This story is too interesting for that.”

“You haven’t turned a single page.  And you looked a little scary.” Satan chuckled.  “Is it Lucifer?  Is that rat stressing you for your grades?”

“Well, no...  It’s just,” Phrase this properly, please. “I’m all hung up on that whole marriage situation.  If...  If you had to make that decision, would you call off the marriage too?”

Satan had a look of shock.  “Hmm...  I guess I hadn’t considered that.”  He thought for a second. “I don’t think I would.  I may have chosen Amanthy’s side, but I’m not him.”

Geez, that’s a big relief.

“But what about you?  Would you do the same?”

Okay, now that was unexpected.  MC blinked.  “I definitely wouldn’t have.  You heard my piece earlier.  I wouldn’t leave someone just because they were incapable of things like that.”

...  Was that too much information?

“Really...  Interesting.” Satan leaned back into the cushions on the seat.  “It’s almost spellbinding how similar you are to him, and yet you two have such different ideals.”

“Yeah...” MC answered subconsciously.  “And it really--...  Wait.  Come again?”

How similar I am to Amanthy?  No.  I must have heard wrong.  It just doesn’t make sense.  There’s no way that he would compare me to someone as great as-

“I must have never mentioned it, but I tend to project the people I know onto storybook characters.”  He seemed a little bashful, as he couldn’t quite make eye contact with MC.  “Amanthy is a very selfless mage that happens to have a habit of staying up for days on end to finish his studies.  He...  He reminds me of you.”  A small tinge of pink crawled onto his cheeks. “Sometimes, it also feels like you’re the protagonist of a great story, too.”

MC was flabbergasted.  This conversation is hitting him harder than the actual plot of the book being discussed.  “Th-Then, who do you see as the prince?”  This wasn’t adding up.  He couldn’t imagine who it could be if it wasn’t him.

“Me, of course.”  Satan responded without missing a single beat.  “I hate to admit it, but as the youngest brother, I tend to...  Blow things out of proportion.  And the others say it’s because I haven’t experienced the same things as them.  I don’t quite understand it...  But I guess I really don’t need to.”  He looked lost in his own mind as he explained.

He continued as MC struggled to put everything together. “The prince was told many of the same things I have heard.  But I think the reason I relate to him so largely is because I also feel little out of place, as many of his monologues describe my exact feelings so often.”

“Out of place..?  Why is that?” MC’s words left his mouth before he could consider them.  “Err, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“No, It’s nice to get things like this off of my chest occasionally.”  He paused briefly. “I guess I’m just not used to someone understanding me quite like you do.  Don’t get me wrong, It’s not bad at all.  It’s just a bit...  Odd to me.  Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it.”

“Satan...  Of course you do.  Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the time and indulged in the same things as you.” MC felt his heart throb.  Of course Satan would look into the story from a metaphorical stance rather than literal, like he did.  He was the one actually reading the pages, after all.  That’s just the type of person he is.  There’s no real beast in this story in his eyes.  The prince was just Satan stuck in his own thoughts.

“But...  Surely, this doesn’t mean that you thought I would have made the same choice as Amanthy, right?”

Satan hummed.  “You’ve got me unraveled under your fingertips, MC.  But you’d be mistaken...  I did.  But even if something like that ever happened, I don’t think I’d let you go quite as easily as the prince did.”  His smile had hints of mischief in it.  “You’re stuck with me.”

MC’s eyes widened a little.  There was so much information to take in at once.  “Well...  Rest assured, then?”

“Agreed.”  Satan nodded. “I’m just hoping you won’t get fed up with having to constantly calm me down before a wreck a building.”  He laughed, but it seemed sad, in a way.

Ahh...  So that’s just it.  Satan was insecure about something that I don’t mind helping him with a thousand times over.  MC found himself smiling.  Demons were much more similar to humans than he thought.

“That’s a bit cute, Satan.”

“What’re you on about?”

MC reached over and pat the top of his head in the way he knows he enjoys it.  “I wouldn’t let you go so easily, either.  I’m not Amanthy, and you’re not the prince.  You’re gonna have to try a little harder to get rid of me.”

Satan was frozen in the spot.  He suddenly understood what Levi’s shows would describe when they said, “time seemed to slow, and nothing else mattered other than him.”

“I don’t think I’d ever dream of it...”

For the first time ever, he felt as if he was receiving his very own happy ending in his own novel. 

[sk-lumen]

Need serious advice about setting boundaries or communicating when dealing with a person who:

Is a parent

Has unhealthy communication methods -- it takes very little for them to start full-blown screaming, shouting out all your 'negative' things/mistakes/past, can continue to scream-criticise you even after you've gone silent, for WHOLE MINUTES even if you've shut up, will not accept anything that even hints at them making a mistake

You can't trust since childhood coz u made the mistake of confiding in them with a serious issue as a young teen --- mental related --- and they belittled and invalidated you, and since then pretended you never confided in them and have NO IDEA how you've been coping without them or ANYone else for years... Yeah thanks, parent, what u said back then made me think I was the one at fault and so I stopped trusting even friends coz yeah, when ur own parent doesn't give a damn, why would anyone else?

Is a master at silent treatments without explaining what EXACTLY they're punishing you for, then when theyre in the mood, will start talking to you as if they hadn't ignored you for days. Lol I'd rather be water boarded I think. Especially for all the damage this caused when I was a child

Won't openly talk about what they want, yet expects ALL FHE TIME others (in the family) to know what they want, then will complain/scream/angry for AGES about how no one cares, no one gives a damn... And when someone asks them what they want, they either say: nothing, or "you should know! Can't u see?"

Upon asking them to please talk normally, will blow a fuse, and lose it --- happened multiple times today

Literally will use me as a scape goat to unleash their frustrations upon. Even when I leave the room, I can hear them b*tch about how much of a failure I am etc. The trigger being anything that bothers them, from a phone call to something other siblings did, bla bla. I limit my time with them... But it's like, it feels impossible to have them treat me normally, without ridiculing or criticising me. I'm already a very low self esteem person... This doesn't help AT ALL

In short, refuse to tell/ask/discuss important stuff, and getting mad randomly that no one read their mind, bcoz everyone's 'old enough to have enough sense' to know what they 'should' do... Eg will not pikc up the phone when we call them from the store to ask when what the needed isn't available, so what other alternative can we get... And then when we get home, will instead blame us for being fussy and not getting the alternative, completelt skirting around the issue they didn't deign to pick up the phone... I mean, I don't get it. In the past I HAVE in fact asked them to just openly tell me what they want/expect from me to make them happy... Got passive aggressive answers like "don't you know? Are you dumb?" Bla bla

Passive aggressive to the max when they've lost it

Expect me to drop anything I'm doing and immediately cater to them, and expect me to help them in their hobbies (while simultaneously, as I learned many years ago to much heartache, not being interested or even pretending to be interested in my hobbies. The disinterest taught me very quickly how much what I wanted meant, leading to years of self-invalidation. Luckily I've learned it really is them, not me. My hobbies are valid)

Will not talk about why they're feeling angry, what causes it. Instead will blame me, who's like the golden scapegoat in our amazing family, by saying :YOU made me negative. They've said it many times now... It hurts a lot, when I'm also struggling with my own issues which I ofc can't confide in them about :)

Today I manned up -- the outburst of hatred happened again! Over a simple thing. It was NIGHTMARE and made me angry/sad/frustrated/triggered---, and so I told them to stop talking like that... Boy was that the wrong thing to say... I don't think I can accurately tell u what happened afterwards...

Usually children learn communication skills from the parents... I at least learned to recognize the unhealthy ones, and what NOT to communicate like lol. Like, other parent is even worse, believe it or not. But that's another complex situation

I'm not bashing on the parent. Lord knows I even have that much of a right huh? I hate myself eveb more when they invalidate me if I try to show how MUCH THEY HURT me after a 'communication session'. As in, heaven forbid me if I BE SILENT afterwards and DON'T wanna listen to their retardation. Nope. Even then they provoke me, rage at me, you know how sometimes enraged people hiss vitriol thru gritted teeth? Yeah, that's what they did today after I stayed silent and tried to ignore them an hour later after the 'session' when they wabted something. It's like they don't even need me to say a word and will carry on and on for minutes 🤢

I feel alone, helpless and at a loss what to do

I want to move out. Due to severe mental issues I can't even move out rn coz it scares me even more. But this has to stop. Things are only okay if I'm absolutely passive, say yes to whatever they want, kill my wants and needs, and become a perfect robot bred to cater to them (parent)

I hope you can help me out, dear

Hi darling,

It sounds like you’re in a considerably toxic environment. I'm sorry you're going through this. Know that this is not normal, nor is it how a parent/child relationship should be. In case there's any doubt, let me start by saying you deserve to be supported, respected, listened to, to have your needs met. You deserve to live in an environment that offers you all of these things.

With that being said, from the many scenarios you’ve mentioned you’ve already tried reasoning and setting boundaries, to no avail. There is only so much you can do on your own, if the other person in the equation is not meeting halfway or at all. After all, a healthy conversation involves two people, not just one.

Here's my advice, in this order:

Calmly and maturely asking the respective parent to have a serious discussion with you and to listen to what you have to say. Share how their actions and behaviour is making you feel, let them know you care, and make sure to mention several solutions for the issue as well. If this doesn’t work…

Bring up the subject of needing help from outside, such as the assistance of a specialist/therapist. Family counselling can shed a lot of light on toxic behaviours that are ingrained from childhood (both in their case and yours), on fears your parent may have, stress from their work, whatever is causing their outbursts and anger - because there is always a reason. Behind anger is sadness, and behind sadness is some need not being met, or an underlying fear, trauma, etc. This is not a justification for their behaviour, they are responsible for it; this is simply the fact of how energy dynamics work. People bottle up their frustrations, fears, etc, and let them out on those closest to them, to whom they feel superior. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy, but it is frequently how this pattern works. If this solution doesn’t work either…

Then unfortunately, all you can do is focus on yourself. If they refuse to meet you anywhere along the road, you have to pack up your things and go your own way. Literally or metaphorically. They may be your parent and you may love them even in spite of their behaviour, but you cannot hold yourself responsible for anything they say or do; that is on them. In those cases, you have to prioritize your own mental health and wellbeing, and focus on moving out. If your (home) environment is toxic, you have to focus on first changing it. That’s vital. Only afterwards can you start healing, refinding yourself, reclaiming your self-esteem and confidence, your sense of worth. As long as you stay stuck in a toxic environment, you cannot really heal; if there is abuse of any kind (physical, mental, emotional), the causes are still there, leading to re-traumatizing.

If for whatever reason moving out is not (yet) an option, I would emphasize seeking some sort of counselling for yourself, if nothing else. You need an anchor, some sort of support that will help you along your path until you do get out.

Now, I don’t know how old you are. I am going to assume you are over 18 and of age, so only mind my advice if that is the case. (As disclaimer, I don't provide advice to minors as it's not the scope of my blog nor am I specialized/focused on that area.)

I understand moving out seems scary because it is unknown, but with that line of thought you may wait another 10 years in the same situation. Wouldn’t you wake up 10 years later already having done the hard work on moving out, finding your independence, claiming your sense of individuality and moving on from this sort of environment, this phase in your life?

Sooner is better than later, but do so with mindfulness and care over your mental health, of course. I know it’s scary. But being an adult requires some difficult decisions at times, and setting boundaries begins with choosing your wellbeing and doing what needs to be done, even if it is something uncomfortable short-term, but highly rewarding and beneficial long-term.

Hope this helps... and wishing you much luck, clarity, gentle guidance and comfort.✨

PS: Lately I've been receiving longer and longer letters in my inbox. As solution, I was thinking of having longer asks/letters redirected to my blog where there isn't any length limit, and readers can more comfortably browse both my tumblr and blog - and those requesting advice can share and receive a more in-depth response.

-Lumen

[kiirokero]

Emacity (PJM)

Emacity: The desire or fondness of buying

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: DeliveryBoy!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, mutual pining (kinda) 

Note: April will be my hibernation month lol

Summary: Whoever invented online shopping? A genius. Whoever hired Park Jimin to be the town’s delivery boy? An even bigger genius.

Word Count: 2.2k

      You wouldn’t call yourself a shopaholic. It’s not like you had an addiction to the point of needing an intervention. You knew what was a dumb purchase and what was a personal purchase. You actively searched high and low for coupons and discounts. You never bought something that you knew would end up in the garbage after one use. You were a responsible shopper. But shopping was like a hobby. 

      You were lucky enough to have the money to spoil yourself. You worked a well-paying job as a translator for businesses that are trying to branch out to new countries while also offering online language classes to international students. Switching between Korean, English, Spanish, AND French usually gave you a headache. And trying to translate a word that didn’t really exist in other languages was exhausting, but it paid well. 

And it gave you opportunities to see Jimin. 

      Park Jimin, Bangtan Village’s delivery boy. Worked at the post office seemingly 24/7 and is always voted employee of the month. Has a smile that’s permanently painted on his face and is as kind as a saint. What’s not to love about him? Besides that fact that his eyes sparkle with the same elegance as polished amber. Or the fact that his skin is perfectly smooth. Or that he emits an aura of confidence and stability. 

      Not that you know, but you can feel it. You and Jimin exchanged few words on the occasions when you get to see him. Simple, “Hey! How are you?” ’s and “Long time no see!” ‘s. But each word that reaches your ears are pieces of gold to you. You and Jimin didn’t really know each other, but you’d like to say that if you waved to him out in town, he’d wave back. 

      Your friend, Namjoon, liked to call you a lovesick idiot. Whenever you gushed to him about how Jimin smiled at you, he’d shake his head and say, “You’re a hopeless romantic and it’s tiring to me,” And today was like no other. 

      “I’m telling you, Namjoon! He has the cutest smile,” You sighed, watching your best friend work on his current project, Yoongi’s car. “I know, you’ve told me several times before,” He groaned, lifting his head from the machinery under the hood and looking at you with an unimpressed look. Absentmindedly wiping off his oily hands on his black stained hand towel. 

     “Why don’t you just talk to the dude? You know several languages yet you can’t communicate to a boy who speaks your native language?” He pointed out, leaning his hip up against the black car. “I may be able to chew you out in French, but I don’t speak ‘extrovert’” You argued back, a sly smirk on your face. 

    Namjoon rolled his eyes with a small smile, “You’re impossible,” He chuckled, “But you really should talk to him. You never know~ He may think you’re cute too~” He teased, dodging the spare hand towel you threw at him. “Stop teasing!” You whined, “You know I can’t, I’ll make a fool of myself and end up confessing to him in Spanish or something,” You groaned, slumping in your seat. 

     Namjoon tilted his head in confusion, “How do you accidentally switch to a whole other language,” He asked. “Trust me... It’s happened before...” You cringed, shivering at the less-than flattering memory. “Well... Maybe you should express it non-verbally?” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he went back to tampering with Yoongi’s car. 

      “I appreciate your advice, Joon, but I don’t think I can even work up the courage to confess, verbally or not.” You sighed, giving Namjoon a somber look to which he responded with a comforting smile. Namjoon went back to work and you checked the time on your phone. 2:22pm. 

    “Shoot, I gotta go,” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Why? I thought you didn’t teach on Wednesdays?” Namjoon asked, still working on the car. “I don’t but, I’m expecting a package,” You smiled to yourself. “You memorized when Jimin comes to deliver your packages? That’s kinda creepy Y/n,” Namjoon insinuated, squinting his eyes at you.

     You gasped, “Is not! I’ve just noticed that he always comes around 3pm... and I want to be there when my new keyboard comes.” You crossed your arms in defence. “Mhmm, go on then,” Namjoon chuckled, and you stomped your way out of his workshop back to your house. 

     You wait anxiously for a knock on your door. You sit on the couch, fiddling with the blanket that was draped over your lap. If you were being honest with yourself, you were more excited about seeing Jimin than getting your new peach-pink keyboard to complete your soft pastel desk setup. 

      You knew Namjoon was right about you being a lovesick idiot; you were in deep, and you haven’t even hung out with the man! You scoffed to yourself, shaking your head at the way his smile made your heart rate pick up and palms clammy. Maybe you could take Namjoon’s advice and invite him on a date. Not necessarily come completely clean and admit you were head over heels, but ease your way in instead.

Only problem is, you didn’t quite know how to do that...

      The long awaited knock finally sounded through your tiny house, and you stood up quicker than you should as blood rushed to your head, making you feel dizzy. Shaking it off, you go over to your door, opening it to reveal the very man you’ve been wanting to see all day. “Hey! What’s up Y/n?” Jimin greeted you with a smile, a small brown package under his arm. 

     “Hi Jimin, I’m doing good... What about you?” You asked, leaning up against the doorway. “I’m good, it’s a nice day out today,” He sighed, handing the package out for you, “Here you go! Your weekly package,” He joked, making you give him a lovesick smile that made you look like the woozy emoji. “T-Thanks,” You chuckled nervously. 

      “No problem,” Jimin said. “Hey um Jimin...” You called before he could walk away. “Yes?” Jimin inquired, raising an eyebrow. Shoot, what do you say? You didn’t think this through you.. You can’t just invite him out like a normal human, what if he says no? “I um- What’s your... favorite food...?” You asked, cringing at how pathetically shy you sounded. Jimin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he chuckled. “I like strawberry Pocky’s a lot,” He stressed, licking his lips at the thought. 

     You nodded, writing that down in your head for later. Maybe you could do something with this. “Cool, cool. Well, um, have a nice day!” You said, walking back into your house, package in hand, leaving Jimin confused and amused. “What a girl...” He whispers to himself, smile, like always, never leaving his face. 

     You continue to buy little things online just as an excuse to talk to Jimin. Who needs a mini cactus? You, apparently. And that chick plush you saw on Instagram? Boom, it now lives on your bed. Whenever he comes around, you take the opportunity to ask him questions like what his favorite color was or if he was allergic to anything. 

    You were planning something for him, and he was catching on. Sure, your questions were usually unprompted, but he’d humor you any day of the week. He may not know exactly what you were planning, but all he hoped was that it would change his life forever. And it would. 

     You were almost done with Jimin’s mini basket of favorites. A blue basket that held his favorite snack foods, stickers from his favorite shows, and some of those chunky rings he likes. Sure, maybe it was a bit excessive. Maybe this was teetering the line of weird and sweet, and you knew that bribing your way into a relationship was definitely not the way to go. But you just wanted to be nice. 

     Maybe buying things for others was your love language, or maybe Jimin was just worth spoiling. It was probably both. Whatever the real answer was, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted Jimin to be happy. 

     Even if meticulously fiddling with the basket made you want to pull your hair out as the bow never looked quite right. Realistically you know it wouldn’t matter in the end and that Jimin would likely take the bow off after he received it, but you still adjusted it until it was perfect. 

     “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, Joon,” You sighed as you heard Namjoon hysterically laughing on the other side of the phone. “You’re going to bribe him into going on a date with you?” He asked, out of breath. “No! I just want to be nice,” You bit back, rolling your eyes even if Namjoon couldn’t see you. “Wow, the irony of Jimin delivering the gifts that your going to end up giving back,” Namjoon chuckled, finally calming down. 

     “Look, I’m just trying to follow your advice,” You whined, finally giving up on the navy blue bow and leaving it be. “True, I was thinking about a banner or something though. Like a cheesy promposal,” Namjoon said, and you could hear the undertones in his words. What he really wanted to say was, “How dramatic could you be? This is too much honey,” 

     Groaning, you flopped down on your couch, mumbling into the cushions. “I think I’m going to give it to him today, I have another mini cactus coming today,” You said, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirl in your stomach at the thought of finally asking the man you’ve been pining over out on a date. “That’s great! He’ll definitely say yes,” Namjoon said excitedly, trying to keep your fragile spirits intact. Knowing that if anything goes wrong, you’ll chicken out immediately. 

     “Yeah, I can do this,” You smiled, looking at the clock on your oven. “It’s 2:30, I have to go prepare. I’ll call you after!” You said, exchanging your goodbyes with Namjoon and hanging up the phone to go clean yourself up a little bit. 

    You weren’t terribly worried about your appearance. Jimin had seen you in coffee stained sweats and hoodies. There wasn’t anything worse than that. So you opted for a simple t-shirt and legging combo, washing your face and touching up your hair a bit. “Now to wait,” You whispered to yourself as you sat on the couch with the basket in your lap. 

     While you waited on the couch for Jimin to arrive, you looked at the mini cactus that sat on your coffee table and chuckled. Usually you bought things that may seem random to an outside person. A mouse that looks like a cat's paw, a throw pillow that doubles as a blanket, random earrings. But never a mini cactus. 

     After you asked all the questions you could think of and bought everything that you thought Jimin would like, you didn’t have an excuse to keep seeing Jimin. So, like a normal person, you bought little knickknacks. Hence the mini cactus and it’s new friend that’s on the way today. 

Knock knock knock

“Well, your new buddy’s here lil’ cactus dude,” 

     Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the door, hiding the basket behind your back. “Hello, Y/n,” Jimin smiled as you opened the door for him. “Hey,” You smiled back, tightening your grip on the basket behind you. “Here you go, another odd stationary?” Jimin guessed as he held out the package for you and you took it with one hand, placing it down behind the door.

      “I guess you could say that,” You chuckled, nervously shifting on your feet. “Speaking of... I have something for you,” You mumbled, but loud enough for Jimin to hear. “Is it another impromptu question? You haven’t asked one in awhile,” He chuckled, his cute eyes upturning into crescents.

“Close your eyes to find out,” You said.

“Close my eyes? Is this the part where you murder me?” Jimin teased, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. 

“No... just close them,” You whined. 

      “Alright, I’ll close them,” Jimin relented, closing his eyes at your request. Taking another shaky deep breath, you took the basket out from behind your back and held it in front of you. “Open...” You whispered. 

      Once Jimin opened his eyes, he let out a cute gasp, eyes lighting up at the sign of the gift. “W-What’s this?” He asked, looking up at you with a huge smile on his face. “It’s um, all your favorites. Jimin’s basket of favorites,” You declared, holding the basket out for Jimin to take, which he happily did. “Y/n, this is amazing. What’s the special occasion?” He asked, looking down at the assorted gifts and snacks. 

      “You’re always making me smile, so I wanted to return the favor,” You shrugged in an attempt to look casual about it. “Really? I make you smile?” Jimin smirked, making your cheeks heat up. “Y-Yeah you do...” You admitted, kicking at the rocks on your porch. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/n, cute too,” Jimin whispered to you, causing your breath to hitch. 

“C-Cute?” 

“Yep, you’re a cutie,” Jimin said, booping your nose.

“Would you um... Let this cutie ask you out to lunch?” You asked. 

“Most definitely,”

“Park Jimin, do you want to grab lunch sometime?”

“It’s a date, cutie,”