#writing is fun but it's always very intentional I can't lose myself in it in the same way

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[daisywords]

wish I could get (and stay) in the zone with writing like I can with drawing

[lucabyte]

ADORE your Siffrin gender essay. I appreciate the focus on using direct lines from the game and providing references. You put into words well from what I saw in the game as well and explained it all really well.

Very sidenote from but hell yeah aroace Ash

*does a sick kickflip and high-fives you*

yeah evidence is swag i love evidence. I don't know how else to put it LMAOO. okay let me try and be coherent

I think as an OC creator first and foremost I interact with canon characters, especially of smaller works like this, with a very "what was the author intending? what did they want to tell me, the audience?" mindset.

I specify as like, as an OC creator because of like... I think its a dual-pronged thing.

I know what it's like to write a guy and try and imbue them with knowledge that i Have but they will never be able to just Say Aloud Via Their Mouths (because some characters will just never say some things), but that there's always evidence for the authorial intent SOMEWHERE if you can just triangulate enough pieces...

I have a big beautiful playground full of guys to project my identity unto whenever i want to (hits a larger than average number of my ocs with the aroace nonbinary beam) and that means both a. I come to (well-written) canon characters with a mindset that, oh thank god, they AREN'T mine. I get to use this to explore someone else's mindset, try and decenter my own experience, practice whatever empathy they are leading me to practice. and b. I've already learned that variety is the spice of Character Creation and i'm on the prowl for new things I haven't already made or seen. And amab NBs are not. Commonly seen. So I latched onto that motherfucker like a crocodile about to death roll him and started scouring for supporting evidence.

So yeah. I come at the text with I think, a slightly different angle than the usual "just playing in the fandom space for fun". which like. i AM having fun. i almost feel bad how much fun i'm having, sorry to my ocs who are collecting dust LOL. But it does mean I'm presumably coming at this from a weird angle to begin with, thus, my want to treat it like a more academic endeavour where I Cite my Sources and point out where I'm getting my ideas from.

I also like. haven't interacted with fandom at large for. a number of years. so my barometer on how much I have to explain myself is WACKY. this is what you get from only hanging out with lit and classic students who can't make a gay catboy without psychoanalysing them to the Nth degree. But again I'm having fun so we stay silly.

And i am SO glad that i wasnt the only person drawing these conclusions. Glad to see people immediately going "oh yeah i thought this!!" because like. i dont read other peoples meta. i had NO idea if this was just gonna like. go down like a lead balloon because I'd stepped on everyone's collective toes instead. Glad it does not seem to have in these first couple hours at least

also yeah sidenote god ash ketchum is so aroace. He's only got time for one partner and that's his pokemon partner motherfucker. No time for romance he's on that Seeing The Wonders Of The World Grindset. that complete blank nonreaction to being kissed by serena never fails to make me lose my shit thinking about it. sorry girl you have bet on the wrrrooooong ponyta

[heywriters]

For the ask meme: 7, 23, 36, 40?

you are crazy sweet for always responding to these, especially because I queue them and forget. in fact, I have an unanswered one of yours still sitting in my inbox because it came in while i was logged out for a while.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

no specific scene comes to mind, but showing the intent behind a place is fun, like portraying a society as ambitious or crumbling or overbearing purely by describing its architecture. decay is one of my favorite things to describe because it can show neglect, the passing of time, the effects of weather, and/or that something has been well-used and loved.

another worldbuilding motif of mine is food. i love making up fantasy foods, or describing a real place by the type and quality of the food. people are also a very important part of worldbuilding to me because i'm a people-watcher irl, so i try to include the interesting types of people i see in daily life in my stories.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

murder mystery thriller. i have a half-dozen plot ideas for this genre but i lose interest in them too quickly. one is about a wildfire, one involves police corruption, one starts with a party on a beach, and one is even set in space...but i cannot make myself complete the outlines let alone start writing. i think the idea of sustaining suspense for a whole story intimidates/bores my brain. maybe someday

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

oh, always. the only time my mind draws a blank is usually during dialogue. otherwise, it's like watching a movie in my head or experiencing VR. and while writing, if I can't visualize it I physically act it out or sketch/research an environment so I can better adjust my brain to the setting.

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

I don't know if I should laugh or sigh because hell yeah I re-read. Too much. Too often. If I re-read I edit or I get excited for the ending I never wrote, and either way I end up wasting hours I meant to spend on something else (thanks, ADHD). I've started a new thing where I write quick, small pieces that make me happy and I re-read them until the dopamine is gone. Once that happens, they either move to The Big File where I intend to connect them all into a linear story, or I delete them because they're superfluous/redundant.

Thanks for being the best!

this was good for my brain, so i have to go write now <3

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

Oh my god I'm going to lose my mind.

Back in Fall of 2017, I auditioned for a local professional choir. I got in, I joined up, yippee. I did the fall/winter season and then returned for the spring season, and it was fun. I did choir my entire life growing up, audition/honor choir 12-18, and musical theater in college. I had missed singing with other people a lot, and it seemed like a good opportunity to be social and get to sing in a group. I even got a few solos; good times.

Fast forward to Fall of 2018. I return for the fall/winter season. Shit is hitting the fan with my grandmother and that whole situation. My mental health is in the gutter. My self esteem tanked out entirely. I was barely making it through. Then the conductor starts introducing "choreography" and I tried, I really did, but I ended up leaving rehearsals (repeatedly) in tears because I was so embarrassed. Finally I hit a breaking point and went "I can't do this anymore, I need to get myself together". So I made my apologies, notified the proper people, and withdrew from the choir. Thought about going back in 2019... didn't. Then COVID hit, and things went virtual for 2+ years. I wasn't interested. Then my mom got hurt, and I have essentially been a caretaker since then. My time was not my own. The choir started meeting in person again this January. I missed singing. I missed the people. I rejoined. Six weeks later, my uncle got sick and died very suddenly. It was extremely traumatic for my family. I became overwhelmed emotionally and in regards to time management. When it became clear I was going to miss more than three rehearsals, I made my apologies and withdrew from the choir, but always with the intention to return for the Fall season. This is something I made explicitly clear to the conductor, the manager, and the staff as a whole. Then in August, my grandmother died very suddenly. Far less emotional fallout, but my time was-- once again-- not my own. I had no idea what dates or deadlines we'd be dealing with, what all needed to be done, etc. but I knew we would have to clean out their apartment, move my grandfather in with family, and handle all of the post-death bureaucracy. The choir season started; I did not join. One week later, everything wound up resolved and wrapped up and I realized I really miss choir and will be able to make rehearsals, at least September - December... so I send a message to the conductor asking if it's alright that I return. No response. I messaged a friend who is in the choir and she told me to just come to rehearsal (something that is done all the time). I notified the manager and relevant staff, filled out the paperwork, and went to rehearsal. I had the most fun I've had in weeks. People were excited to see me, and I them. The music for this season is gorgeous and it felt good to remember that I can look at music and know how it reads and how to perform it. It felt good to remember another language I speak outside of writing alone in my room: music. I went out for drinks after with one of my closer friends in the group and we chatted for hours. I made plans to hang out with a few others, and I got excited about the prospect of the retreat this weekend, spending a whole day working on music in a beautiful building instead of the usual pre-birthday sobbing alone in my room for three straight days. And then the conductor emailed me. I am certain I'm reading too much into it, but it basically said, "You're a flake and I want you to think long and hard about the commitment you're willing to make to this choir." And she CC'd the new head of the organization, a woman who has never met or spoken to me. All the good feelings instantly vanished. I'm sad and frustrated and angry. I waited a while, and cried a lot. I drafted a few different replies. I finally returned her email (and CC'd the same person so she'd see my reply as well). I politely but pointedly said "I had two deaths in the family this year unexpectedly, which changed my schedule dramatically in a way that was out of my hands. I did ask your permission to come back, but since you didn't reply I figured it was better not to miss another rehearsal than to wait on an answer. Let me know what you want me to do. If it's preferable I'll just return the music ASAP and remove myself from the roster."

I'm not going to the retreat on Saturday. I'm convinced I made up all of the positive reactions to my presence in my head and now am wondering if people asked her to try to get me to leave because they probably don't like me, anyway. I'm reviewing and overthinking every interaction I had, and I keep coming back to standing in a group of a few of us, looking for an excuse to go out to dinner or karaoke, and one of them saying, "Well my birthday is October 3rd." I said, "And mine is September 24th!" (which is stupid and I should not have said anything and I hate that I said anything at all). And then they just continued, "Oh, yeah let's go out for (other girl's) birthday!" and that was that. And I do not like my birthday. I do not want to do anything for my birthday. It's already miserable and it hasn't even come yet. But now, of course, in my head it's like, "No shit, Sherlock. No one gives a fuck about you or your birthday, just keep your fucking mouth shut, idiot." When the conductor finally replied to my email, she basically just said that they expect singers to commit September - June, and not much else. I feel like I'm out of ways to say, "I can give you September - December, but I can't promise anything past that. If that's not ok, please tell me now." I just want her to tell me, because if *I* make the decision to leave based on what she's saying, I'll look like I'm proving her right and flaking out. But if she tells me, hey, sorry, that's not gonna work then I can at least be like, "Oh, there were logistical issues." So now I'm just stuck in this spiral of: no one likes you, no one wants you around, everyone thinks you're unreliable and a bad friend and annoying, just shut the fuck up and go away and for the love of god stop trying.

[ziptiesnfries]

putting under a readmore bc it got Long, but i decided to ramble a bit about my personal relationship to whump/the whump community/my writing

i'll be real, i was really confused when i first found the whump community. i came here from writeblr, so i was like, "...okay, but why is this a separate community? don't all of us writers already torture our characters?" after a little while it became clear to me that there is a difference, because whump is specifically about the hurt, whereas writeblrs do a lot of things with their characters that don't always involve hurt. but i've been writing very angsty, violent stories since i was a kid, so for me it's all basically the same thing.

and for that reason, i feel like i don't consider most of the things i write to actually be "whump," even if they contain violence or characters getting hurt. i could describe it as whumpy, but for me to consider something i wrote as whump is like ... i wrote it for my whump blog, with the intent/main goal of portraying gratuitous amounts of violence or a specific trope or what have you. and most of the stuff i write doesn't fall into that category. i write a lot of stuff (fun fact: i am a Writing Major), and 99% of it is never posted online, especially on my whump blog, partly due to personal preference but partly because a ton of it is character-driven stuff that doesn't qualify as whump and would probably get like 3 notes on here (if my other character-specific blog is anything to go by, lmao).

it took a long time for me to start an actual dedicated whump blog, separate from my writeblr, and when i did that, i decided to just make new characters that were "my whump ocs." partly that was so that no one could identify me by my ocs (which is something i no longer care about; now all my blogs are cross-contaminated with blorbos from my brains), and partly it was just for organizational purposes. like, i have these characters over here on my writeblr, who i'm writing a novel about, and then i have these other characters on my whumpblr who i'm just messing around with and torturing.

more recently, i've kinda come to realize ... i don't care as much about my whump ocs? like, maybe this has to do with How I Make Characters. they have to age like fine wine; i can't just make up a dude on the fly and expect myself to care about them for more than a few weeks before i lose interest. i don't wanna say that i don't care about the ocs i post about on here At All, but my interest in them definitely comes and goes. this is why i sometimes vent about the frustrations of everyone else really liking my One-Off OC Of The Week - because i have characters that i've put literal years into developing, and they never seem to get as much interest. and like, obligatory disclaimer that obviously i really appreciate it when people like any of my writing! it's very validating! i just have a weird relationship with those oneshots, because usually the characters seem very shallow to me and i'm not actually interested in developing them; it kinda seems like everyone else likes them more than i do 😅

so i guess the TLDR here is i write a lot of stuff outside of what i talk about on my whump blog, so whump occupies a pretty specific niche in my writing-life. and that's also why i go for long stretches of time without posting any writing on this blog. like, i'm always writing something, but 9 times out of 10 it's not particularly suitable for here.

[ssentimentals]

dating the8 feels like...

basking in the sun on a lazy day. the pleasant atmosphere, when there is no rush and bustling, surrounds relationship with minghao, the dolce far niente. he is art: vibrant with all the colors in the world and deep in the meaning of it. the beauty in relationships for him is in togetherness, in 'we are one' mentality and it translates into his desire to share everything with you.

('i thought you could help me finish my painting,' minghao says, gesturing to the canvas and bunch of drawing tools scattered around.

'oh minghao,' you step closer, mindful not to knock over some stuff. 'are you sure? you know i'm awful at it, what if i just ruin it?'

sensing your hesitance, he just smiles and pats your back. 'then we'll start over. painting itself is not important, i just want us to do it together.')

minghao is 'quality time love language' guy through and through: words and gifts don't hold the same meaning for him as simply spending time together with you. time is a priceless gift and when he's with you, he ignores everything else; his full attention is on you and you only. minghao doesn't care what you do as long as you are doing it together and he has a unique gift of making even the most mundane tasks full of fun or shape them in other way.

('do you know how people used to wash blankets before washing machines? they just poured water into the basin, placed blankets in there and then stepped on them.' he explains, giving you a hand as you climb into the tub filled with water with your blanket underneath. 'i added a bit of detergent there, so we can just step-'

'or we can wait till tomorrow when that guy'll come and fix our washing machine,' you interrupt, skeptically looking down. 'i can't believe we're doing this.'

minghao grins, squeezing your hands. he starts marching, creating waves and moving blanket underneath. you give in, because his enthusiasm is infectious and start marching with him. 'this is unbeliev- minghao!' you shout, when you lose your footing and slide to the back, falling into the tub, taking minghao with you. 'ouch!'

he quickly pulls you up, you both stare at each other in pure shock and it takes only two seconds for the bathroom to be filled with the sound of you two laughing loudly.)

minghao is a quiet museum dates with soft exchange of your opinions, he is a loud beach date with splashing water on each other, he is the 'grocery shopping is fun!' and 'you wanna try ceramics class later?' kind of dates that always leave the warmest memories.

he listens closely and is very invested in your life; he's very serious when you come to him with your problems, his advices are always wise and given with best intent ('i want what's best for you and your inner peace is more important than other people being offended because of your rejection'), minghao worries but not in an overbearing way, he manages to show that he cares and give space at the same so you won't feel suffocated.

('i think i'd like to do it on my own,' you say, tracing veins on his arms with your finger. 'but just in case-'

'i will be here if you need me,' he promises, looking up at you. you are so relived that he's not arguing or pushing, he simply accepts your wish and respects it. you smile at this and he smiles back, pushing your foreheads together. 'i will always wait for you.')

dating minghao is like having home in a person. whenever you come to him he's always there, waiting for you with open arms, loving smile and kind words. he is a home, where you are looked at without judgement, where your opinions are important and where your presence is appreciated.

a/n: me legit crying when writing last paragraph..i love making myself sad :] anyway, here is the link to the masterlist if you want to check out other members and requests are closed for now, but you can always just come to say hi <3 - nini

tag list: @pearlygrayskyky @woozionascooter @smalliechellechelle @jaetaimjadore (let me know if you want to be added!)

[rosiewritesstuff]

A Thin Line

Ignis Scientia X Kingsglaive!Fem!Reader

Description: After the fall of Insomnia, and nearly losing your life— you still remain as loyal to the crown as ever. No wounds or damage done to you could stop you from joining the Royal Retinue on their travels— good or bad. However, Ignis Scientia feels differently.

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Blood, PTSD, and graphic description of injuries. Read at your own risk.

Authors Note: This was fun to write. It's the duality of Ignis' duty to his Liege, as well as his deep rooted feelings for his significant other. I feel that he would be in a constant internalized battle at all times until he branches into madness.

I also reference that I think the Reader and Ignis in their young ages, before the game begins, would not have liked each other. The reader is a bit quirky, reckless, and defiant. Where Ignis is pretty straight laced, overly cautious, and serious. Despite their drastically different personalities, and once they mature; they would grow to love each other and find comfort within their differences.

With that said, I also believe Ignis Scientia is a giant closet dork. There are references to Star Trek Original Series in this story. I believe 100% that he will never talk about it, (except to his S/O) but he feels that he can greatly relate with Spock. Since I feel that the Reader and Ignis are close to polar opposites, personality wise— I depict them acknowledging that by alluding to Spock and Dr. McCoy's (Bones) tense relationship. Spock and Bones are constantly bickering and at odds with one another. I could talk for hours about this parallel, but I won't! (I did not watch hours upon hours of STOS to pin point this at all!) I hope you enjoy!

His nightmare had come to life— and in a second all he saw was red and heard your name tear through the cracking gunfire and raging snaps of metal upon metal. He knew how foolish he was, but your stubbornness always got the better of him.

"And I don't feel comfortable with you coming along," Ignis snapped as he tossed the remainder of his medical supplies into a bag before shoving out of the bathroom with you in tow.

"I'm almost healed, you said so yourself! I'm fine, quit babying me—"

He whipped around, sharp green eyes piercing your gaze. "I'm not babying you. I'm trying to protect you, there's only so much I can do." He tossed the bag onto the bed and tore the phone charger from the outlet near the nightstand. "It's dangerous and you are still not healed. I can't keep all my attention on you and Noctis."

"I don't need all of your attention. Look," you gave a quick kick in the air, bandaged leg holding your weight while your other swiftly penetrated the air. One fluid motion demonstrated that you could hold up on your leg with no issue. But that didn't phase him.

"You can kick the defenseless air?" He sneered as he carefully and neatly rolled the cord around his knuckles and tucked it into his bag, followed by the block of the charger.

"I can support myself. I don't need you to watch over me. I know Noct is more important than me and that's fine—"

You were treading on dangerous grounds and you felt that by the quick, sharp glance that nearly cut through you like a knife. He clicked his tongue as he zipped the bag aggressively and turned on his heels.

"Darling, I won't say it again. You will be staying here, and that's—"

The hotel room door opened and Gladio came flooding in, with his own rucksack hanging off his shoulder. "Need me to take this?—" His hand froze on your bag's handles, feeling the tension as if it were steam in a sauna. He glanced up at Ignis who stood with his head tilted, eyes sharp and brows cocked in a challenging stance. While you stood in your very short, sleeping shorts and a tank top, arms crossed tightly across your chest. All of your weight was deposited on your wounded leg.

The staring contest was at a championship level, two stubborn mules with no intention of letting up. You turned your head to look at Gladio. "Yes, please. Thank you, Gladiolus. I can shove my pajamas in Specs' bag."

Gladio took the liberty to glance at Ignis, his lips pulled into a very thin line. That sour look only growing deeper and heavier. He has seen fights spur between the two of you before. Some were so loud he needed to physically remove one party to another room. That usually was you. So the argument between you both was very normal. But what was unusual was the knowledge that you were romantic towards one another. And that this fight was not nearly as explosive as the hundred others before. It was like a silent fight of dominance, challenging gazes used as a sharp tool to sever forces of willpower. But who would cave first? Gladio didn't want to find out.

"Is that okay, Iggy?" The glare Gladio was receiving spoke the answer as if it were bold faced and flashing like a neon sign.

"You don't need his approval. I'm coming, and that's final." You sighed, grabbing your new uniform from the made up bed and turned to the bathroom.

Gladio was nervous, watching the way Ignis retorted, and mumbled beneath his breath. He grabbed his bag for his clothing and tossed it to the bed he was near. The bathroom door snapped loudly, causing the corner of Ignis lips to twitch in a displeased fashion.

"Am I taking her bag?"

"I suppose you are." The way Ignis' voice hissed made Gladio's resolve wither. Just as Gladio hooked the handles to your duffle bag onto his forearm and tugged it upward he heard Ignis raise his voice. "There is a thin line betwixt bravery and stupidity,"

Gladio did his best to shuffle out of the room before your raging response. He hardly caught the beginning of your annoyed sigh, before the room door snapped shut and locked.

The car ride was just as excruciating. The pair of you were not bickering, but shot dangerous, nearly blood thirsty glares at one another. You opted to sit in the back with Gladio and Noctis. You were friendly with your other company, but pranced around Ignis with playful quips and sassy remarks only fueling his fire further. But being the cool headed advisor, he never let the aggravation grow past a trite glare.

Prompto made a daring comment while at a rest stop— that you two hardly appeared to be lovers. And in fact were more like enemies with benefits. Of course Prompto was not careful with his volume and was caught by the least appealing subject of that accusation.

Prompto nearly begged you to relinquish the back seat, in fear that Ignis would strangle him if he got the chance. While you found the accusation to be kind of hysterical, your more than pissed boyfriend found it lacking tact. You could handle Ignis better anyway, and you relented your safe middle seat to the blonde.

Things began to settle down once the party made it to their destination at the Chocobo farm. Either you were both exhausted from ignoring each other, or you made up under everyone's noses, no one knew. But you both fell back into a more comfortable and cordial existence. Of course never showing affection or even the slightest taste of something more than friends. To everyone's dismay they were sent off on a wild goose chase for an enemy who was known for being dangerous. Back came the quips, anger and not so subtle jabs at one another.

Things remained peaceful despite the flames that raged between you and Ignis. That was until the lot had a run-in with the empire and a drop ship of MTs and a few Magitek Armor. Ignis hardly caught the scene, but noticed his love shout and take a fatal hit in an attempt to protect the Prince. Of course most literally taking a bullet for him. His nightmare had come to life— and in a second all he saw was red and heard your name tear through the cracking gunfire and raging snaps of metal upon metal. You warped towards the attacker and took them out before weakly falling into a heap in the grass.

The battle ended quickly after that, or maybe that's how it felt. Because the adrenaline that rushed through the advisor, seemed to quicken the process of destroying that pack of enemies.

"You're hurt!" Prompto bristled with worry at the sight of blood seeping from your side. Your shaking fingers were covered in crimson. The enemies laid dead face down, and machinery laid as piles of junk on the side of the road. It took Ignis no time to rush to you, and there came the anger. Of course it was subtle behind the mask of dread.

"I'm fine," you evaded Ignis nurturing hands. Your bloody ones brushing the crimson to his. "I said quit worrying. I'm not the priority, you and I both know that."

Noctis dropped to his knees next to you, his best friend, who was now ambling to get to your feet. "Thanks for taking that for me." He offered a hand and you gratefully took it as he hoisted you to your feet.

You always played the game of being unphased well, by smiling brightly at the king. "Ain't no thing. If anyone is to get shot, it better be the least important, right?" Your self deprecating jokes were always welcomed and Noctis laughed. You took a deep breath and took your thick kingsglaive coat off of your shoulders and used it as a large gauze to add pressure in hopes to end the bleeding.

However Ignis didn't take your statement as a joke at all. It scraped him more like a jab towards him rather than making light of the situation. "Whatever," Noctis huffed, "just drop the bullshit and let Specs look at that when we get to camp."

"Yes, your highness," you muttered, gaze meeting the nearly swimming look in Ignis' stoic face.

As soon as the tent was set up at the haven, Ignis strictly pointed to the canvas flaps with his usual stern look. And as if the standoff never ended in Lestallum, you bit back with a glare of your own. But complied, bending and climbing inside the tent.

He had gotten the tent lit up, and had you strip into your underwear and bra. As he figured, you ripped your stitching as well. Your right leg had bled, and dried, the skin mangled from the torn stitching. He bit back the urge to shout at you, when his eyes examined the bullet wound that imbedded into your side. He recalled your snark as he attempted to help you on the battle field. I'm not the priority, you and I both know that.

He wanted to cry. But he swallowed the urge by speaking over the swelling emotions— "lay down so I can leverage this bullet out of your side."

You didn't respond with words, however sighed with a taste of frustration before laying down onto the hard floor of the tent. Ignis noticed your head bounced lightly against the unforgiving ground, and removed his blazer from his upper body and folded it. With one shaking hand, he lifted your head and rested the material beneath you before shifting to look at the wound on your side.

He began to shuffle through his medical bag, sifting through tools and the like. It wasn't obvious to the world, or to the boys, but to you in the confines of the tent— you recognized the shake in his hands as he lifted metal tools from the bag. "Maybe you're right, " you mumbled, floating gaze focusing on the canvas roof above you. "I just didn't think the line was that thin."

He swallowed hard, before selecting the tool and bringing it to your side; never meeting your gaze. "I'd like it if you'd be less reckless." His voice was quiet. His trained eyes examined the wound before he did his hackjob of a procedure. He picked his gaze up for a fleeting moment. "You may find yourself as the least important, but that's far from the truth." He cleaned the tool with alcohol, before bringing it close to your side. "Brace yourself."

He gave you a moment before entering the wound to extract the small bead that became of the bullet. He was shocked that it didn't penetrate further. You gritted your teeth, and hissed, balled up fist smacking hard at the ground. "Fuck!" You shouted as he pulled away and dropped the bullet into the bloodied gauze from your leg. "I'm not nearly as important as Royal Sasuke out there."

Ignis didn't get the reference, but didn't bother pondering on it further. "You still matter. Apparently more than you understand," he sighed, taking a cloth and quickly sopping up the blood that began to rush from the missing bullet. Despite the pain you felt, you looked at him. He seemed to be more in pain than you were, and guilt began to press against your chest now. You flopped your head back down to his jacket. The smell of his cologne lingered on the interior of it, and made your heart seize slightly.

"I'm sorry for being a dumbass. I should have stayed back." You muttered, "I know you mean well. And I very well am a liability to you guys—"

"That's not at all why I wanted you to stay with Iris and Talcott" Ignis' tone was a bit brash as he began the process of disinfecting the bullet wound. You hissed again, slamming your heel down, trying to keep your trunk still. Ignis' face knotted in discomfort as well, his free hand rubbing soft circles into your bare stomach.

"Then why?" Your voice bubbled like a hiss, growing sharp as the disinfectant stung against the fresh wound.

He was quick to dress the wound to prevent bleeding. He helped you sit up. Whimpers left your parted lips at the lingering pain and you caught the wash of sorrow in his eyes. You knew the answer immediately. But was it cruel that you wanted him to say it? The silence made it clear however, that you weren't ever going to receive an answer. And you lulled your head back, trying to endure the pain he didn't mean to administer as he dressed the wound.

The boys were laughing outside, you could hear the sound of Gladio's lighter snapping— and Prompto's phone was blasting the opening chime of Kings Knight.

"Dude! I got such a big harvest from the Zell trees! Check it, I got a bonus!"

"What the hell?! I never get that kind of luck—" Noctis retorted, the sound of the camping chair creaking made it clear that Noctis threw himself down while pouting.

"Iggy," You caught his attention as he finalized the tight gauze into place. His gaze flickered to yours as he gestured to your leg. You offered it up to him, and he delicately cradled your thigh in his hands. "I know what happened in Insomnia was scary. But I don't want you to worry. I made it out, I'm alive. There's a reason for it, I'm sure. And I want to use this opportunity to help you guys. You all are my reason to keep fighting and working. To see this all through." It all stung and was hard even for you to swallow. You noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes, despite the stone cold expression he wore.

You would never admit it to him or to anyone, but you still shook when drawing your kukris, and your thumb always lovingly brushed against the small parting gift from your friend and comrade, Nyx. You winced at things you never had before, and grew anxious whenever facing the soul-less machines of war The Imperial Army thought up. "This all sucks. And everything that happened, well that sucked too. There was a reason I made it out of the city. And damnit Iggy, I'll be damned if I'm not going to use this chance to protect the last shred of our leadership and friend. And sure things are harder with these injuries. But I can't be treated like I'm made of glass because of it. Fuck, I'm a Glaive. There's no giving up even if it gets hard. You know that."

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he grabbed another cotton pad and soaked it in disinfectant. "Ignis," you touched his face and stopped him before he could apply it to the wound. "I'll be more careful. Okay? I have a duty to protect Noctis too though. Can we agree that if it's for him, sacrifices are okay?"

His jaw tightened and his glistening eyes dropped slightly. "Okay." He faked a small, thin lipped smile, before bringing the cotton pad to your wound, yielding a powerful hiss from your lips. Your hands grabbed his shoulder tightly.

"Fucking Hell Scientia," your nails dug into the meat of his shoulder. He was sure they left small crescents on his skin despite the barrier his shirt provided. But he braced the pain knowing the pain you endured was more. He was just experiencing a symptom.

You swore you saw a reflection of something horrid in his gaze. As if you saw a small taste of the pain he felt from the sight of your blood beginning to dry to his hands.

He made quick work of the stitching, and hid the fact he struggled with the mangled and torn skin from your recklessness. He didn't have control in this situation, much like the situation in Insomnia. He never whispered or breathed a word about his fear. But it was evident, at least to you— just how deeply he was affected by what happened.

Because he didn't have control, his worry and stress seemed to translate into an overprotective beast. And your defiance tore away the control he did have, leaving him scrambling, high strung and prone to make reckless decisions himself. And you knew damn well that if Noctis and yourself were to get into a bind, it was Noctis he'd rescue before you. But that didn't mean he was okay with that decision. That didn't mean it didn't tear him apart.

And by the gentle way he held your leg in his hands, you knew it was a struggling point for him. He loved you. He truly did. And he hated that he wouldn't pick you first. He began to bandage your leg again, using the same firm gentleness from before.

"Ignis," your iron grip on him had softened significantly, your thumb now brushing against the sting left by your nails. He never picked up his gaze, focusing on finishing the bandages. "Are you thinking with your emotions or with logic? I'm pretty sure Spock would be very disappointed in you. Preparing to throw away your sworn duties for a girl."

That caught his attention and made him grin. "If we are to point fingers, I'm positive you disobeyed my logic due to pride and emotions." He finished up the gauze and pushed your leg away.

"Pulling the uno reverse card are you? Well if I am anyone, it's Bones, right? And he's overly emotional." You were careful to climb up on his thighs. And as rigid as he was about the advance of physical affection, he accepted you onto his lap. His bare forearms supported you in hopes to mitigate spreading your blood further.

"He's just emotional. You, are the overly emotional one. And trouble if I may be so bold." You cradled his head in your hands.

"You're pushing it, Specs," you warned, your thumbs gracing against his cheekbones. You weren't angry, and it was obvious by the smile growing on your face.

"Yet we aren't going to mention how you've been pushing my buttons all day?"

"I'm petty, you knew this. Don't be shocked." You shrugged, your hands resting on his shoulders.

"Dr. McCoy in every sense," he mumbled, as you pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Got that right, but in this case, I am madly in love with the emotionless Vulcan." You winked before carefully rolling off of his lap to locate your clothes.

"It's illogical for me to feel likewise. But I suppose that's the human half talking. Yes?"

You looked at him while carefully sliding on your pajama shorts that he had pulled from his bag, as well as your tank top. "Yes," you winced as you pulled the tank top over your new bandages. "but don't you lose your edge, you humanoid alien person creature," you helped clean up the gauze and mess that your wounds made.

He let out a small snort as he cleaned his hands and handed you his jacket to wear. "well don't scare this humanoid alien person creature, or whatever, like that again. There is no telling what disasters will befall us if I have to scrub your blood from beneath my nails one more time."

"Can't have that, you are the most sound person we have." You pressed a kiss to his cheek before tightening the fabric of his jacket around yourself. "I'll take a pole for dinner, I love you Pumpkin." You whispered in his ear before standing and leaving him with all of your bloody gauze. He bagged them up and tied it tightly before disposing of it completely. He was soon to follow, just catching you wrapping his coat around yourself tightly while talking with the boys and laughing.

You were a tough cookie, and it was obvious by how quickly you were willing to take more pain before all the other wounds you sustained were healed. And though it drove him to the brink of tears, he was proud of you. Because despite his deep feelings, and how devoted he had been to Noctis for so long, he was quick to abandon post for you. Even for a moment. However, you were the one who had to remind him of his duties. Albeit in reference to Spock. But you knew that would catch his attention and tether him back to the ground. Yes, even he needed a tether.

Some people tethered themselves by hobbies, by duties, or by vices. His however had a wicked sense of stubbornness and a tremendous amount of back sass. Part of him was thankful, and the other half was vexed. You were at his side in only a few short moments. "Results of the pole all lean towards three mushroom kabobs."

"Care to assist, Bones?"

"Help an emotionless creature like you?" Your eyebrow quirked, serious scowl pilfered by a smile. "I would absolutely love to."

Prompto had the gull to shout for the whole campsite to hear: "They do like each other! Fancy that!" Of course gaining a mixed reaction from the group, but the blonde caught a glimmer of a smile on Ignis' face.

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Kim Sunwoo - Hands Off [Requested]

softdom!Sunwoo x gf!reader

Request: Sunwoo likes to play with his girlfriend's breasts

Warnings: mentions of bullying, body image, underage drinking, anxiety (very brief), titfucking

Long overdue request for @ace-seventeen-world , I hope you like it! Also first time writing anything about titfucking, I hope it turned out alright. 🙏🏽

Sunwoo loves you even when you don't feel like loving yourself.

Being well-endowed since puberty hit meant you received a lot of unwanted attention from all genders. Some would pass judgement, calling you desperate for attention; and some would ogle and make lewd comments. This led to you coming to school wearing oversized baggy clothes and even turtlenecks no matter the weather. The less your body was apparent for people to judge, the better, you thought. Except the comments never stopped. You were so sick of your body being the talk of the student population of your small-town high school that you couldn't wait to graduate; and move far away to start afresh in college, where you futilely hoped that people would be more mature about these things.

Moving away for college turned out to be the best decision you made. You made a whole bunch of new, more mature friends who taught you to embrace and appreciate your body. Inappropriate comments from strangers still came your way, but with your new, reliable support system, you learnt to shut them out, and your girlfriends would even try to fight them for you, which made you feel very touched and grateful. Apparently, this sincerity didn't stop with just your good friends. That was also how you met your current boyfriend. Your friends had convinced you to come with them to a party during your first semester, and you allowed them to doll you up, upon much pestering. You were dressed in a nice blouse and skirt, which turned some heads at the party, and though you felt rather self-conscious in the beginning, you loosened up after a few drinks and dances. From there, you didn't care if people paid good or bad attention to you; all you wanted was to have fun with your best friends.

One of your friends introduced you to a gaggle of other first- and second-years, who were very loud and goofy, except for one; who had previously been laughing boisterously along with them until he set his eyes on you. He abruptly stopped laughing when you made eye contact, and you could have sworn he developed a light flush. With pouty lips and dark eyes, and a mop of fluffy black hair, he smiled shyly at you, nodding in acknowledgement and softly introducing himself. His voice was deep and had an attractive drawl and a pleasant raspiness. His name was Sunwoo, and you ingrained it into your memory easily, smiling shyly back at him. You mostly kept to yourself as the rest of them chatted, nursing your drink when a flurry of words and a loud slap shook you. You whipped around to see one of the boys, with cotton-candy hair and sharp feline eyes rubbing his arm and muttering under his breath next to Sunwoo, who was staring at you while whispering something to the boy - Eric, was it?

"Apologize!" Sunwoo hissed, nudging him. You tried to back off but Eric nervously came forward and rubbed his neck sheepishly, stuttering an apology while avoiding your eyes. He didn't specify what he was apologizing for, but you already had an inkling. All your friends were now staring at you, confused as to what had transpired. Unable to handle the stifling awkwardness, you quickly murmured "It's fine, Eric," before speedwalking away to get some fresh air, unaware that a certain dark-haired boy was scurrying after you. You turned to the nearest balcony and hurriedly gulped some fresh air to calm down, all-too-familiar feelings of panic and shame drowning you. You fought back tears, ignoring some of the smokers occupying the same space, who were looking at you with a mixture of confusion and pity. You managed to calm your breathing, and blink back tears, when a figure slowly comes to stand next to you. He doesn't look at you out of courtesy, fixing his gaze straight ahead. "Are you alright?" he asks softly. You nod firmly, trying to seem completely calm. "Eric... sometimes says things without thinking, but I know that's not an excuse. I just want to apologize again, for making you uncomfortable." His voice is gentle and soothing, and you tilt your head to face him, since he was a bit taller.

"It's not your fault, but thanks Sunwoo. And don't worry, parties aren't really my thing, I just came cause my friends were begging me to join them," you chuckle softly, to which Sunwoo gives you a lopsided grin.

"I feel you on that. I'm here to look after my idiot friends."

You share a good laugh, and spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, but conversation comes easy, like you've known each other for years.

You and Sunwoo's paths seem to cross often, apparently because his faculty was right next to yours, and soon your friend groups merge and become one massive group, and you've even forgiven Eric. Days turned into months, casual meetups turned into lunch and movie dates, and soon you and Sunwoo are constantly switching back and forth staying over at each other's apartments.

Ever since you two started dating and you've gotten used to wearing more comfortable clothes around him, you've noticed him staring at your chest every now and then, but at least he had the decency to look apologetic and embarrassed whenever you catch him. You started to tease him, and he would bashfully hide his face and whine cutely. To get back at you, he'd purposely keep his hands cold and hug you out of nowhere, just to hear you squeal, knowing you're ticklish. Sometimes he'd be even bolder, trailing his hands up your sides and cupping your breasts under your shirt, especially when you walk around the house with no bra on. He'd do it when you're cuddling on the couch watching a movie, or worse, when you're trying to study. You didn't mind it usually, since you appreciated the support from his hands since the weight of your breasts takes a toll on your back, and you weren't fond of wearing a bra 24/7. Except the little shit likes to tease, jiggling them around and squeezing them when he's being extra playful, even grazing your nipples with his fingertips; chuckling lowly in your ear when you gasp or squirm in pleasure.

One night in bed, you confront him jokingly. Your period was on its way soon, and your breasts were feeling extra tender and swollen, something you had complained about, so your dear boyfriend very happily obliged, massaging them gently to ease your discomfort. After a while he gets bored, and starts prodding them, round eyes watching intently as they bounce. You can't help but laugh at how adorably fascinated he looks, so you ask him why he's so enamored by your boobs.

"They're just.. fun to play with, yknow? Bouncy and squishy. Can't help myself okay, you're just so perfect," Sunwoo grumbles, blushing again since he got caught.

"Yeah? What if I lose weight and they get smaller? Will you still like me then?" you ask, feeling rather self-conscious, irrational worries that he only likes you for your assets filling your mind. You try to ignore them, knowing your relationship with Sunwoo was much more than superficial, but trauma and bad memories keep causing you to doubt yourself.

"Of course I would!" Sunwoo gasps, reaching up to hold your face urgently but with such a tender gaze in his eyes. "It's still you, and you'll always be perfect, and I love you no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes when he said those words. Few people had treated you with such genuine kindness and you were so grateful to have him as your partner. You squished his cheeks together and pressed a kiss to his lips, surprising him. "I love you too, Sunwoo," you whispered, a small smile on your teary face. A cheeky grin slowly replaces the shock on his face. "Shall I show you just how much I love you?" he drawls, crawling on top of you, making you lay down on the bed. Sunwoo positions you to nestle comfortably against the pillows, helping you take your shirt off afterwards.

Your cheeks start to heat up at Sunwoo's intense gaze raking over your body, and your arms habitually come up to shield your breasts, but he's quick to catch them, gently pulling them away. "Don't be shy. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, inside and out," he murmurs, making you blush even harder. He kisses you deeply, before trailing his lips down, pressing light kisses down your neck and across your chest, gently nipping at the skin just above your right nipple. He resumes massaging your breasts, admiring the way your face scrunches up cutely in pleasure, his warm hands on your skin making you sigh happily. He leans down again, tracing a circle around your areola, making you shiver. He teases you a little more, flicking your hardened nub with his tongue before finally latching on and suckling on it, rubbing it periodically with his tongue. His hands are still massaging your breasts, twisting and tugging on your other nipple.

He pulls off with a satisfied 'pop' when you whine, pleased with how raw and puffy your nipple has become, glistening with an abundance of his spit. He dives back down to subject your other nipple to the same treatment, but this time, his free hand creeps down your tummy and between your thighs. You moan when he grazes your clit with his fingertips, and you can feel his plush lips smirk into your skin, obviously proud of himself. You willingly part your legs, and he dips his middle finger straight into your folds, your juices coating his finger instantly. He raises his head to look at you, eyebrows raised cheekily. "So wet already, babe? Always knew your nipples were so sensitive," he chuckles, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. You shut your eyes, the stimulation of his mouth on your chest and his hand on your pussy clouding your mind. He inserts another finger and pumps you faster while he drags his teeth against your puffy nipple, making you shiver and moan even louder.

He starts leaving hickeys and bites all over your decolletage, looking forward to seeing those pretty marks bloom purple tomorrow morning. Finally, he eases up on his ministrations on your chest, and focused on fucking you hard and fast with his fingers, slamming three digits into your core, gleefully watching the way your breasts jiggle from the impact. He glances up at your face, finding your head tossed back, soft mewls and moans falling from raw, bitten lips. You're clutching the bedsheets in a death grip as Sunwoo starts sucking on your clit as he fingers you. He sucks hard, nudging it with his tongue every so often as he slows down his thrusts, opting to scissor you open and drag his fingertips along your walls, rubbing hard against your g-spot when he finds it, indicated by your shrill yelp. "B-babe, gonna c-cum," you gasp, still writhing in pleasure. "Go on, love, cum for me," he mumbles against your core, and soon you're clenching on his fingers, coating them with your cum, and he continues to fuck you through your climax.

Gasping for air, you wince as he pulls his fingers out, pussy clenching on nothing as you watch him idly put them in his mouth, sucking them clean. He smiles lazily at you, telling you how sweet you taste and even gives you a kiss, making you taste yourself. Your cheeks turn crimson again, and you decide you want to return the favor, having felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh when he leaned down to kiss you. You eye the tent in his jeans, and start unbuckling his belt. He looks at you in alarm, grasping your hands to stop you. "Baby, you don't have to do that, this is about you," he smiles gently. You pout at him. "But I wanna help you too! I have an idea that I always wanted to try with you…" Sunwoo takes a moment to consider, making sure you were genuinely comfortable doing so, and his eyes glimmer with anticipation when he nods in agreement. You beam wordlessly at him, helping him out of his jeans and boxers. You can't help but lick your lips at the sight of his erect cock.

Sunwoo's dick always made you feel good, whether it was fucking your pussy or your throat, but you always wondered what it would feel like sliding between your bountiful breasts. You pull him up to straddle your chest, and his eyes widen when he realizes what you want him to do. "Really?" he gasps, dick twitching with excitement when you readily nod. He chokes on a moan when you swipe your finger up his cock, gathering his dripping precum to slather it between your breasts. He slowly slides his dick into the valley between your breasts as your hands push them together, making it even tighter around him, and he groans lowly. Sunwoo thrusts shallowly, loving the way the smooth skin of your breasts feels around his aching cock. He begins to take over, his larger, warmer hands replacing yours, squishing your tits together as he rocks his hips faster, becoming addicted to the the feeling. It wasn't much physical stimulation for you, but you felt yourself getting hot again watching his face contort in pleasure, his tightening grip on your tender, sensitive breasts rather arousing. You can't look away, mesmerized by how good he looks with his lower lip caught between his teeth, grunting softly as he uses your tits to get himself off.

"You look so hot like this Sunwoo," you murmur, your hand resting on his thigh as he continues to piston his hips. He barks out a breathless laugh, "Have you looked at yourself properly? You're fucking gorgeous, babe, don't you ever forget that. Although, I'm down to remind you all the time." he winks. You smirk at him, and your hands come up to squeeze his muscular ass, the same way he likes to squeeze your boobs. He's got a nice butt, you had to admit, toned and sculpted from years of various sports, and it was your weakness the same way your breasts were his. He moans louder when he feels you groping his ass, hips stuttering as he approaches his climax. He throws his head back as he fucks erratically, squishing your tits even tighter together and you keen at the rough treatment. You coax him in a soft whisper to cum all over your tits, and soon he does, painting your chest white as his hips slow down, and he's gasping for air. A little bit of his cum has spurted onto your lips, but you willingly lick it up and smile up at him, your hands still soothingly rubbing his cheeks as he comes down from his high.

You grab some wet tissues from your bedside drawers and clean up your chest as best as you could, wiping away all the cum before Sunwoo flops next to you, resting his head on your chest the way he usually loves to. You lay there in comfortable silence for a while more, stroking his hair and you feel him smile into your skin, his finger absentmindedly tracing the hickeys he's left across your breasts. Maybe going to that party all those months ago was the best decision you ever made (second only to moving here for college), and maybe you and Sunwoo finally get out of bed to shower, and maybe you go for a second round in the bathroom, filling the steamy air with echoes of wet skin slapping and soft proclamations of 'I love you's.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hey mbti-notes, I hope you're doing fine. I'm a 19 y/o INFP. I've loved art since I can remember, I've done drawings, paintings, writing, and I've been very shy and had social anxiety since very young but now there grew some anger and resentfulness towards it in me for a long time and it exploded on my face. Now I think like "Screw everything and everyone, I wanna do my stuff wherever I want, whenever I want!" to the point of erasing any other people from my mind.

I'm glad I could tamper it by isolating myself a bit but I'm still annoyed that what I want it's (a relative far possibility) perhaps out of my reach and I could be searching for something I can see solely on the internet: finding truly innovative places and people, then if I've drained every options I had, my last and only option would be to resign myself to what my environment has and I can't imagine that without feeling a pang of fright on my back.

I live in a not well known city which has many things that I love, but… it's just that… the same things over and over… I'm getting very tired of it to the point of feeling numb. There isn't a day in which I don't hear someone spreading dumb information and people reacting to it like they just heard the world is going to end right now, or giving harmful advices and others accepting it without hesitation. I know I'll find this everywhere sadly, but I can't say I'm glad I found a place where I can feel I truly belong and makes all of it smoother. Every person that I met and felt they had something meaningful to share with me ended up being "just for the party and excesess" and has made me cynical.

Recently I've been drawn to heavy music, specifically black metal and the subculture it has. By that I've wanted to start learning to play the guitar, but I fear not reaching enough skill and then abandoning it. To add more pressure, there's this woman that helps me with vocational orientation and told me once that "painting is the less complex expression of art and music is the most complex one", I just believed her and that left me internally paralyzed to the point of becoming completely depressed. She said that without bad intentions but it still hurted cause I've always liked to challenge myself intellectually for fun and… I feel I'm the one that no one takes serious cause I'm not as "witty and refined" as some people I'm surrounded by, I kind of grew a hate to instruments cause my dad and sisters were good at it but not me, I've always had problems while grasping understanding of them. Now I just sparkled a tiny interest while watching some boys play loud melodies and this fear of reaching the point of quiting for it not being easy to me sucks so much. It makes me feel I can't compromise myself with anything and then proving I'm not capable.

So I have the anger of not meeting people and topics in the place I've been living for years and getting tired of it and desolated, at the same time I feel embarrassment for being perceived as someone pretentious (which is probably a secondary effect, but not my goal at all), and also fearing not being enough for the cause and people I'm trying to reach for. I'm mentally putting all my resources and potential energy to achieve what I want, but so is the imposter syndrome.

Most probably the remedy for this struggle of mine is to gain more confidence and dig myself a path, but then what? I don't have a place in mind nor a solid strategy, just an idea, but even that idea is collapsing as time pass by cause I've also been losing faith in art, I feel I have an imp in my head acting so abusively saying "bah! This is so stupid, sounds like someone just want to live in vanity by pursuing snowflake-y sh¡t. Invest yourself in something much better!".

At first I was reluctant to send you this because I think this kind of questions have already been answered, but I haven't really felt a change while reading them, so I hope you can give me some insight I haven't grasped. Thank you a lot.

__________________

This is a blog about self-reflection and improving self-awareness. Mostly, you are just venting your grievances and throwing around blame. As long as you are stuck in a blame mindset, you're not going to find useful answers, because you're not admitting that YOU play an important part in creating your problem.

If you really want to change your life, you have to change how YOU make choices. If you're unwilling, it doesn't matter what new ideas you hear from me or anyone else, because they won't get through your wall of resistance.

1) Attitude: You sound very negative, critical, and judgmental. It is quite normal to feel bad when bad things happen. A healthy and mature person knows to grieve and move on. It is unhealthy to take every little bad thing that happens and create an entire negative worldview. By doing this a) you become totally blind to anything good and opportunities to do good, and b) you specifically look for the bad things in the world to confirm your negative worldview. Why do people do this? When your worldview is so negative, you don't have any reason to try, so you don't have any opportunity to fail or get hurt. It feels "safe", but in reality, it is self-sabotage, even self-destruction. The only way out is to admit that your cynical worldview is wrongheaded due to being distorted by confirmation bias, then change your worldview by always approaching the world with fresh eyes. Are you willing to change?

2) Integrity: You are quick to criticize people and the world around you. Yet, you live your life trapped in your own fear and negativity, so what does YOUR existence add to the world? You claim that you don't fit in, but I would argue that you fit in quite well. If the world around you is as negative as you believe it is, your negativity is equal to it. You haven't realized your own dishonesty, in that your criticisms are actually about you. Your perception of the world is a projection of your own self-loathing. It is YOU who feels like nothing special and quite boring, isn't it? It is YOU who isolates and stops your life from going anywhere interesting, isn't it? It is YOU who gives up easily on yourself and your own interests, isn't it? It is YOU who is vain and superficial and only cares to learn things if it feels validating, isn't it? It's hard to feel proud of yourself and have good self-esteem when you are the first person to give up on you and then believe in a lie that it's someone else's fault. A person of integrity doesn't feel entitled and then blame others but, rather, admits their shortcomings and improves upon them. Are you willing to be a person of integrity?

3) Insecurity: Yes, some social environments are certainly better than others. Yes, you should avoid or leave a toxic social environment. However, a supportive social environment doesn't magically materialize out of thin air. It is created by people. Instead of taking the lead and putting in the work to create one for yourself, you isolate or depend on online relationships that allow you to keep a safe distance. With your cynicism, you sabotage yourself by writing off everyone as bad before truly knowing them, thus, cutting off all opportunity to connect. Someone who truly aspires to connect with others will nurture an open, trusting, hospitable, and compassionate heart, the kind of heart that helps create a supportive social environment. Are you willing to BE the kind of friend that you're looking for?

From the sounds of it, throughout the majority of your life, you have been consistently and deeply driven by social pressures, some of which are your own creation, and you use them to measure your self-worth. It's the reason you hide away in fear, it's the reason you put yourself down through illogical social comparisons, it's the reason you're so easily affected by dissenting opinions, it's the reason you don't follow through with your dreams, and it's the reason you can't live your life fully. You claim to be Fi dominant but I'm seeing little to no evidence of it. You seem utterly incapable of staying true to yourself, yet somehow still manage to believe that you are being true to yourself by "choosing" to hide and enjoy isolation? Perhaps you haven't gotten anywhere because you're mistyped?

[askfallenroyalty]

I don't think you did anything wrong. When a story is being written, there are a lot of different ways to adress and express something and maybe that's why you're being misunderstood. I think there are just too many things to adress in this story that maybe some people will get when these things are implicitly implied and some people will not. So when a breaking point comes, they'd think it came out of nowhere. You can see this with the amount of asks you receive asking you often the same thing.

Does that mean it's wrong? Ofc not! I myself was a little bit confused with Frisk's reactions and conduct in general until you explained it in your recent asks, and I thought man, that was what I was missing!

Now, yes I believe some parts of the story could have been explained in a different way, because in my opinion there's a lot to read between the lines. If you don't try to understand the characters, you'll clearly be confused as hell. But that's why I love this story! As you said before, there's nothing meant to be black/white coded, and I really appreciate the world and the character's complexity in general. You don't have some of the answers in hand, an that's when you have to analize! (At least that's what I do haha)

I also really felt like telling you something I've been relating to, so I'm putting the respectives tw if someone doesn't want to keep reading (TW: Suicide mention).

In the DW Arc, when the Christmas and Feylow stuff happened, I realised through Chara that I was doing the exact same thing with a friend of mine. He was going through a lot of stuff, and tried to commit suicide multiple times. I was focusing a huge amount of energy on him because I was afraid to lose him, and when he suddenly stopped talking to me so he could take a break, I felt really lost. Because he was the person I talked with the most, one of my dearest friends, and the idea of losing him and not being there to stop it made me insanely anxious, because that used to be the situation most of the times. Now it's been a year since he's stopped talking to me, and I don't exactly know the reason. But I couldn't keep running behind someone who didn't seem to keep wanting me around. And if it wasn't for you, I couldn't have realized how much this was hurting me.

And now, as much as it hurts me to see him acting this distant and cold with me, I'm okay with it. I really am. Because I now have the tranquility to see him continue, even when things are not okay. I can't force a friendship and I really needed to understand that back then. I trust him as much as he trusts me.

I really wanted to thank you for writing this story because it has helped me in a way I didn't expect, and I'm sure it will help a lot of people too! I'm even learning from your way of taking and discussing things haha.

I just wanted you to have this tranquility I have with this story because I trust it'll work out and explain itself once it's finished. And I just can't express how thankful I am to be reading your story.

Thank you again,

I'm looking forward to more of your work and please, take care! Don't stop doing what you enjoy! 🦋

putting it under a readmore because of how long the ask/response is, sorry!

i’m at a loss of words because wow, this ask really hit in a way i’ve never really could of anticipated. when writing AFR, i write a story about things I felt. I’ve been Chara, I’ve been Asriel and Frisk at points in my life. I write because I need to tell their stories and make it real, specifically for my own sake of getting through my own pain and to tell the world this is who i am and that I will be ok, there is hope in this world. It’s a selfish desire for me, but ultimately that’s what art is i feel. I couldn’t draw this much and put so much time and effort into something without it being meaningful or personal.

but art is communication, and when I write to be seen and to be heard, I know there’s others who are reading and are connecting with the work. (otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting asks right? its a lonely process, i forget there’s the second half of the equation -you guys) and i’ll do my best to make sure people are accommodated and can experience this story without hurting in a way that’s past enjoying a emotionally gripping piece of media. i don’t want people to be upset or hurt for my work, and I want to ensure I can make this without hurting others.

I try to leave a lot of ambiguity and room for people to interpret stories and I don’t mind people missing the point or interpreting things vastly differently than what I intended. that’s fine, that’s what art is all about. i don’t want to hold people’s hands and tell them what’s happening or what they should feel -i want them to choose and decipher and think things over. stories should be stimulating and thought provoking, and i can’t decide what those thoughts are. I wouldn’t want to. Personally, if it means people become more confused and lost over the story -well, that’s a trade off I have to take. if it means the story is more up-to-interpretation, than it’s worth it to me.

i do regret with how fast and punchy the arc ended up, and I feel my hints may have been too weak. asriel/flowey has been bluntly surprised/asking to be killed twice, he hasn’t felt like himself since dying and has lost his support systems ect. as a person who’s Been Through Shit, I thought it was as obvious as the sun what was to come but thinking on it now?

with how distance asriel is, how limited the perspective is to chara (who hasn’t known Asriel has been going thru the same depressive/suicidal thoughts as they have this whole time) it was a shock to the system. and in a way that’s fine in my eyes if the reader was completely shocked as you can emphasize more with chara that way... but in the same sense its horrifying for them, it must be for the reader as well.

and I do feel I should of thought of a way to handle the scenario to where it was less in your-face with Asriel’s decent into desperation and attempts. I don’t want to ever show it on screen, I don’t want to ever go into detail and make it any sort of fun for the viewer. it’s supposed to be disturbing and painful and I tried to show how greatly painful it was affecting both chara and frisk. Suicide victims are victims and everyone involved suffer from it. It’s ugly and never something one should be anything but ugly.

that is my intent for it be that, but as I’ve heard from people it’s still a shock and went too far. Authorial intent doesn’t matter when people react to your stories. yes, the context can be good to have, but people’s feelings and reactions mean the world more. I hope with the added context of the complete story that helps it in the long run, but as it is I’m very unhappy with how I tackled it and I don’t really have a good answer to how I should of gone about it. but at the end of the day that doesn’t matter as it happened and I can’t change it.

i’m sorry about your friend and i’m sorry for the pain you’ve experienced as well. it’s not easy being in that position (nor is it for ur friend as well of course) and it’s perfectly fine to feel hurt and to take time for yourself to address those feelings. You, as a person, matter and your feelings are justifiably important as well. nobody asks to be mentally ill and your friend’s choices aren’t fully theirs because of that, but it doesn’t change how it’s affected and hurt you. Losing someone’s friendship has always been a painful and inevitable experience people must go thru in life. I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that, but I’m glad -so happy that my story has helped you in any amount. I sincerely wish you both the best and to heal, I’m proud of you anon for getting through this.

I can’t really express how much it means as a writer to see how my work helped you. Like I mentioned before, I write and feel like it’s by myself that makes this work but it’s a 2 way street -you guys contribute to the story and the story only exists and is perceived by you. without an audience, it really truly is just me here. what you gain and experience within a story is just as important as the writing of the work itself and I often forget that.

Thank you. This was a really nice and eye opening ask and it’s going to be on my mind for a while, haha. I hope once the story is done and I can post-correct how I handle the story, people can learn and gain meaning to it like you have. Sorry if this was a bit rambly, I’m very thankful for your response (as well as everyone else who’s messaged!) and I’m very happy and excited to continue and to do my best. Thank you all so much.

[barjogaron]

This is the continuation for my Elite AU Love & Deceit! The fanfiction can be read on ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32302612

And on Wattpad here:

Chapter Three:

Waiters and waitresses all dressed in white stand on every corner of the table. There are young men who play violins in the corners of the room, and women who tug on the strings of harps. I see my suite mates are already seated and I grab a random seat to sit in. From across from me I see Polo looking at me with hungry eyes, teasing me with a smirk. I ignore him and observe the rest of the dining hall.

Traditional European foods of all kind are already set up neatly on the white blanketed table on silver plates that are partnered with a drinking glasses and silverware. A heavenly chandelier hangs from above everything and Crisanto sits at the head of the long table. He is accompanied by other people dressed just as fancy as him. A young man with rosy cheeks and a friendly smirk, sitting next to another guy with beautiful caramel-colored skin and dark eyes. There is also a girl who sits beside them and they all bicker in a soft chatter, laughing and giggling in unison. There are a few other important looking people as well. I assume they are all Cristano's very opulent friends.

"Welcome, everyone. This meal is not only for my departure, but also in dedication to you, the new addition to the White Mansion." Crisanto smiles. Even though I shouldn't take it in other way, "new addition to the White Mansion" sounded pretty odd to say, but I shouldn't think too hard about it.

"Ah, right on time as always." Crisanto turns his heads to his sons that enter the room. Leading his brothers, dressed handsomely, is no other than the bruiting, Guzmán.

He is dressed in a black velvet suit, a suit that darkens his eyes in a strange deep incandescent green filled with obscured devilry. His hands are in his pocket, and he looks at just about everything in the room, except for in my direction. For a split second our eyes lock, and he quickly turns away clenching his jaw. I can tell he is forcing himself to avoid me. But why? I wonder what his problem is.

His brothers are dressed in a more casual formal  attire. They all sit in seats near the girls I'm living with, and some next to each other and other guests who I am not yet familiar with. By the time all the boys sat down, the only spot left for Guzmán to sit is next to me...

His powerful scent infiltrates my nostrils and I can't help but to think how good he smells. I try my best to ignore him, tapping my fingers on my thighs. I can feel him eyes looking over me, and from the corner of my eye I see his jaw do his signature clenching thing again, and he quickly turns his head away from me, taking a sudden interest in the silverware in front of him.

"Now, shall we say grace before we begin?" Crisanto smiles but it quickly fades when he looks at me, giving me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry Nadia, forgive me. Would it be alright to say prayer? I don't want to oppress any different religious beliefs." he asks me and I shrug in my seat, trying to avoid all the eyes of the room staring at me.

"I really don't mind it." I smile nervously.

"Splendid. Come now, let us all hold hands." he tells us. I'm not so keen to the idea of holding hands with Guzmán, but I must do so. This day just keeps getting better and better...

We all stand from our seats, grabbing onto one another's hands. I am hesitant to hold Guzmán's hand, inching my hand closer to his.

"I don't bite," whispers Guzmán. "Hard." He surprises me by practically snatching my hand into his. His hands are bigger than mind, fingers slender and ringed with silver, and easily wraps around my cold hands. Unlike his, which are somewhat soft and very warm. For some odd and stupid reason, I can feel my face heating up and I literally shake my head to fight against the sensation. I hate this.

"Our gracious Heavenly Father," Crisanto begins the prayer and we all close our eyes as he continues. For some odd reason I am tempted to open my eyes, and stupidly, I do, only to see Guzmán staring at me. I close my eyes quickly and I hear a soft chuckle escape from his mouth. I didn't think he was even capable of even chuckling, let alone laughing. I can feel the heat rising, my palms getting hotter and hotter.

Please end this prayer already! Please! I mentally scream. I repeat it over and over in my head, just so I can escape Guzmán's grip. Within moments, Crisanto ends the prayer with an amen, and we all sit back down in our seats. Thank goodness.

I snatch my hand back as quick as I could, looking away and pretending Guzmán doesn't exist. Yet, this cunning young man has the audacity to lean closer and whisper into my ear.

"Don't worry, I enjoyed holding your hand too." he grins against my ear. I can feel him smiling at me. I know for sure it's with all the wrong intentions.

"Don't flatter yourself." I whisper back to him and his eyes simmer cold, but his perky lips still hold that smirk. Guzmán smirks and focuses his attention to his plate.

"I can tell you're not going to be an easy catch." he says and my mouth hangs open. I know he's trying to get under my skin. I can tell by his cheeky smile.

I scoff.

"You have another thing coming if you're thinking I'm a catch." I tell him and focus on my plate, waiting for the waiter to reveal our meals. Everyone else is socializing with one another like normal people, and here I am with the dreamy yet diabolical, Guzmán, who I barley even know—is finding it in his twisted pleasure to annoy me.

"Don't worry, little rabbit, I enjoy a good game." I look at him and I lose it.

"Game?!" I shout and everyone goes quiet. I clear my throat thinking of something of a way to quickly dig myself out of this awkwardness.

"I didn't know you fancied sports so personally, Guzmán." I shoot Guzmán a wicked look, hoping he catches on. He simply grins. Damn his smile is gorgeous, but already I despise him.

"Oh yes, basketball is a sport I love. As well as rugby, and such and such." Guzmán replies and everyone continues to their casual banter. I notice his brothers whispering to one another, chuckling.

"Nadia, I'd like you to meet my young friends who are successful in the fashion industry," Crisanto smiles at me, pointing to the gentleman with the dark blue suit and wavy brown hair. I can tell he is a model because how charming he is.

"This is Nathaniel Gray, he models for Calvin Klein. The fellow next to him is his friend, Austin, accompanied by their companion, Eleanor Steel, who is a photographer.

I wave to them and they give me friendly smiles, but I can tell they weren't really interested in the acquainting business. The waiters reveal our meals which consist of steak, lobster, salads, vegetables, fruits, and my personal favorite beverage besides lemon water and wine.

The night had went on and on about business talk and getting familiar with one another. The boys kept cackling to jokes most of the time, and I would occasionally talk to my suite mates. Carla was busy flirting with a guy named, Joseph, who was more than alluring on his part

Throughout dinner, Guzmán stayed quiet and kept to himself. He didn't make any snarky comments, or made an attempt to bother me. Every time I talked, he just...watched me. Maybe he didn't think I noticed him, or felt him looking at me. Or maybe, he didn't care if I did...

"So, Nadia, please do tell us a little bit more about yourself." Nathaniel asks, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"There's not really much to know about me." I nervously reply. Being the center of attention was never my favorite thing to be.

"Please, enlighten us." Nathaniel insists and I sigh to myself. Guzmán is fully focused on me and I can feel the anxiety brewing within me.

"Well, I'm from Madrid, Spain, born and raised. I love singing and photography, as well as writing. Um, I'm in my last year of college at NYU, majoring in English and hope to one day publish a story of my own. I'm Twenty-one years old, and I have a loving family who I am thankful everyday for." I tell everyone and notice Guzmán has turned his attention somewhere else, burying a smile under his hand pressed against his lips.

"Well that was a perfect little bio if I ever heard one. Nice to meet you, Nadia." Nathaniel says and I smile and mentally pat myself on the back. I take a quick glance at Guzmán who drinks his wine. As soon as I look away to down the rest of my glass of wine, I think I hear him say, "This should be fun."

"What did you say?" I look at him. I meant for it to come out more with authority but I sounded like a timid school girl.

"Nothing, Princess," Guzmán grins while standing. "Enjoy your meal." he winks and walks away from the table, leaving the dining hall. Crisanto watches him leave and I pour me more wine and continue eating.

I really wonder what goes on in Guzmán's head. I sigh. So far I have survived the ongoing night. Let's see how it ends.

...

AFTER DINNER ENDED everyone said their fair-wells and goodbyes to one another. Carla kept flirting with Joseph, and the other girls were a trying to keep their drunken behavior managed until they got back to the suite. Crisanto had got into his white limousine hosted by William, and had left for the airport. The house is now officially in the supervision to me and his sons. Honestly, I don't know which terrifies me the most.

I stroll around outside on the balcony after getting changed into more comfortable clothes to sleep in, which is just a typical silky white gown. My hair in a messy bun and I am so glad to have all that make-up off my face. I put on my reading glasses and make me some tea to soothe me. I figure I'll take this peaceful moment to enjoy the night air. I tip toe outside onto the balcony while the the girls are asleep l in their rooms.

I take in the fresh late spring air. The breeze cool, just right, soothing and running across me. The balcony is big and acts as a perfect view for most of the enormous backyard of the white mansion. I see the tennis court, the basketball court, the swimming pool, the green house, and the walking trail that stretches into a land of tall trees amongst the meadow between the mansion and the woods.

I lean on the ledge of the stone balcony guarded by more white lions. Below, I notice someone standing near the swimming pool. He just stands there, looking at the large pool illuminated with the lights beneath it. I set my cup on the ledge and watch him. It's of course, Guzmán, to no surprise. I just watch him. What is he doing? Why do I care?

I continue to watch as he mindlessly watches the pool with his hands in his pocket. Then, to my surprise, Guzmán begins to slowly undress, taking off his clothes peace by peace. His skin is open to the night air. He pulls down his pants, kicking of his shoes and sliding off his socks. Finally, the biggest shock, is that he slides off his black name brand boxers and tosses them to the side. Oh my god, he's naked! Skinny dipping at that!

I can't help but to notice how his physique is literally godly, Greek defined for sure. The shape of his rear even, it's unearthly. I blush at the sight and I want to look away. In fact, I even turn my head...but instinctively, I find myself looking back.

He rakes his fingers through his hair and I am mesmerized by the intensity of his back muscles. He must work out. A lot. Catching me off guard, Guzmán turns his head back towards where I stand and I quickly duck to the floor of the balcony. I peak at him, seeing him turn back around and I cautiously stand back up. I watch as he dives into the now disturbed water, swimming naked and proud without a care in the world.

taglist: @inmyarmsyoufell @elitestan @glamorizing @jasminejc4525

[wallwriterstuff]

Am I allowed to place in a request for Mr svelte tracker boi Demetri? I need my greek boi fix. 😅😂 My stimming (due to my slight autism and anxiety) has been kinda bad lately and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons on how he would be with a reader who has that going on? (For example, some of my stimming signs are restless, uncontrollable finger twitches sometimes, and sudden limb movements and facial twitches I can't control 😅) Thanks! Also, sorry if this is too touchy a subject!🙈

You most certainly are allowed and I cannot express how hard I fangirled when I realised it was you in my ask box. I played it very cool but just know I was dying inside from the moment I saw your username come up XD 

TW: Mentions of anxiety and sensory overload. If that’s a little personal to you please be cautious about reading this one!

I’m incapable of writing short things it seems so it’s another long one.

Self-stimulating behaviour, known more commonly as stimming, usually involves repetitive movements and/or sounds. Though it is most often associated with autism (I know when I first saw the word stimming that was where my mind immediately went to) everybody stims in some way, shape or form to relieve stress, tension, anxiety, boredom etc. Some ways are less noticeable than others such as nail biting or finger tapping, while others can be more obvious and disruptive to your social/daily life like licking certain objects or scratching at skin.

I learned all this from doing a bit of reading before taking on this request and if you want to know more then the link to the article I read is right -----> HERE <------ ! It’s informed my ideas for this headcanon request and though I’m open to discussions about the topic to help educate myself and anyone else who wishes to learn more, what I will not tolerate is any sort of hate or discrimination based on the links to developmental disorders and mental illness that stimming has. This blog has and always will be a safe space for anyone and everyone and a little respect for one another will help keep it that way. Be kind folks!

So without further ado, how would Demetri react to you stimming I wonder?

Part 1: Headcanons below the Keep Reading Line Part 2: Teeth (fic) Part 3: Control (fic) 

·         He honestly wouldn’t really notice for a while because, well, humans aren’t exactly designed to be as flawless as vampires

·         Impromptu nosebleeds, migraines, sneezes…they’re just glitches in a faulty system so why is the way your leg just bounced up off of the floor while your sitting any different to those other equally as involuntary things

·         He’s struggling right now to, after all he just met his very human mate and it’s quite overwhelming for him to have to adapt to all these new feelings and situations he finds himself in, but he deals because he can

·         Some days, you just…can’t

·         Getting attacked by a man with some bizarre fascination with your neck is bad enough but being whisked away by strangers is somehow even worse. At least in the first scenario once it’s over it’s over, now you’re just living an anxious person’s nightmare in a new place full of new people

·         Volterra was beautiful, but it wasn’t home. No cosy apartment, no neighbours cat to feed, no monotonous shifts at work…

·         Actually, most of the time you’re left utterly alone to navigate an unfamiliar castle, and the times you aren’t alone is when there’s a man claiming to be your eternal lover in front of you

·         Try to convince me this man doesn’t rip the band aid off and profess his love for you with dramatic flair just TRY

·         Your days are filled with endless boredom where you’re doing nothing at all until someone checks on you, and then fight or flight kicks in because oh HELLO Mr Vampire guard are you here to give me lunch or kill me?

 ·         Demetri had thought that perhaps you were okay with that, since you hadn’t really outwardly reacted beyond the way your cheek twitched up into a smirk once or twice as he spoke. Hell, you’d even winked at him…right?

·         You did that a lot so he really genuinely thought that maybe you were just trying to flirt with him, build a relationship with him. Your constant little winks and the way your fingers twitched when he was nearby, like you so desperately wanted to reach out to him…

·         It took a few weeks before he realised how wrong he was

·         You’d reached for a sip of water and your arm had just whipped outward from your body

          + You’d absolutely drenched him with your entire glass of water and could only stare in abject horror wondering what the supposed vampire would do next, since you’d interrupted him rather smugly detailing his plans for your first date

·         Silence

·         There was just silence

·         It only made your anxiety worse and the muscles in your face just spasmed without your permission and - god did you just smirk at him again, oh no        

         + “I’m glad one of us finds this amusing. If you did not like the idea there were other ways to tell me so.”

 ·         You almost want to cry from sheer embarrassment at this point because the date really had sounded like it could be fun and now you’d just straight up thrown water in his face like he’d insulted you in the worst way imaginable

·         So you come clean and tell him about your stimming

·         He’s really worried at first because autism? Anxiety he’s heard of but autism sounds very dangerous, are you dying? You’re probably dying. He’s going to lose his mate –

·         Another involuntary finger twitch from you forces him to calm down because your anxious enough without his worrying on top, so he kind of brushes it off and makes no big deal out of it

·         Squeezes your hand and kisses your forehead to try and reassure you all is forgiven, even if he does have to go change a very expensive looking designer shirt and god you’re so sorry

·         Of course, that kind of makes it worse for you because anxiety brain is activated and your 99.9999% sure he’s actually furious with you still and has only pretended to forget it while he’s plotting his revenge

·         You see him late at night when you struggle to fall and stay asleep, reading in the low lamplight at his desk across the room, his laptop propped open and a notebook before him but you’re too scared still to ask what it is he’s reading so intently (probably good suggestions on places to bury your body welp)

·         It’s a complete surprise to you therefore when he does take you out on that date he promised you not two weeks later

 ·         He’s chosen a nice overcast day so he’s in the least conspicuous clothing he owns

            + Demetri’s least conspicuous clothes still consist of the most chic and expensive brands you know of and he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the quaint little market stalls he’s brought you to see

·         Despite the gloomy weather the people of Volterra are out in full force though, swarming the market stalls and chattering and laughing as flashes of gold and silver from jewelry hit your eyes, bright coloured fabrics following

·         It’s all just too much

·         There’s people everywhere and so much noise, so many colours and lights and people brushing past you…

·         Your fingers clench tight around his, his hand immersed in a glove to keep his freezing skin from chilling you too much

·         He squeezes back lightly, eyes shifting to glance down at you with the kindest smile on his lips

         + “Keep squeezing my hand whilst we find somewhere quieter to stand.”

·         Your fingers seemed to take turns pressing into his rock solid skin, an odd sort of comfort coming from the fact you know you can press down hard and he won’t so much as register the sensation, and Demetri squeezes back, just firm enough he knows you can feel the pressure of his palm on yours

·         He takes you to a quiet little side road where the noise is much more faded and there is so much free space around you you feel like you can finally breathe again

·         He still hasn’t stopped squeezing your hand, taking turns with you as you take some steady breaths and try to focus your senses a bit, one thing you can feel, two things you can see, three you can smell...

 ·         “I hope you can forgive me, I did not expect the market to be so busy today with the weather like this.”

·         His apology takes you completely by surprise because how would he even know you struggled with crowds? You barely know each other?

·         Seeing your surprise Demetri rather sheepishly admits as to what exactly he’s been reading all those nights you’ve seen him at his desk, and you’re a little overwhelmed to realise he’s been reading about you

·         Medical journals, mummyblogs, charity websites and more, if it had any information about autism and stimming he’s browsed through it and taken copious amounts of notes, observing you religiously to see what might be relevant to you and how he can help ·         +  “I read somewhere you self-stimulate to calm yourself when you are anxious or your senses feel overwhelmed, is that what happened?”                                    “Well, yes, actually, I…I…”

            “And did it help? Taking you away from the source of stress and letting you squeeze my hand like that?”

·         It had actually, you felt much calmer and Demetri’s obvious acceptance and willingness to help you manage your stimming and anxiety today were one of the first little moments you fell in love with him, looking back on it 

·         He didn’t stop there either. Together you sat down and made a list of all the things that you found most often triggered your stimming, and all of the things that brought you joy so he could figure out things to avoid and things you might like for your future dates

·         Within hours of arriving home you’d gotten a whole new daily routine set up so you weren’t left to languish and wonder what was going to happen next

·         Three days later an express shipment of your favourite smelling scented candles arrived alongside a Bluetooth speaker, supplies Demetri insisted were necessary for nice calming baths on the days your anxiety was playing up

·         He started doing mindfulness practices with you in the evenings

·         He never touched the volume controls for his laptop, speaker or TV, leaving it to you to control the volume so you could set it to a level you were comfortable with, and he religiously policed the noise on his floor to           + “Where are you going? The movie just started…”                                                    “To tell Felix to turn his music down.”               “You’re vampiring again Metri, I can’t even hear that.”

·         When he signed you up for Yoga and meditation classes at a centre in town you drew the line and told him he was going overboard, but bless him he had tried

·         Overall he’s a solid 15/10 for effort, even if some ideas are still experimental - you’re enjoying the deep pressure massages a lot though – and he sometimes goes a bit mother-hen trying to get you out of situations he thinks you’ll struggle with, when actually you’re coping just fine today

·         You love him dearly for it

[wayward-riana]

The Lost Silhouette | Part Two | Thomas Shelby

Summary: After Grace’s death, Tommy had closed his heart off but when he marries the new female detective of the Crime Investigation Department of Birmingham only for protection from the law, his cold exterior starts melting.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Mentions of sadness. Brief cursing.

A/N: 'Gypsy' is a song by Fleetwood Mac. Let's pretend that it existed back in the 1920s. I just thought that it'd go so well with this chapter. I really hope you all genuinely enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing this.

___________________________________________

Most nights Tommy likes to have Charlie beside him at night, while he's sleeping. Other nights, Charlie sleeps in his cot that is situated in his father's grand bedroom. Although, Y/N insisted that Charlie sleeps on her bed tonight, beside her. Tommy allowed it.

Now that he lays in his cold and lonely bed with a cigarette in his hand, he feels restless. Restless knowing that his boy isn't in the room with him. So, he throws on a loose shirt and marches towards Y/N's room.

As Tommy stands outside her door, he can hear a cry flowing out of the room. He slowly creaks the door open and relief washes through him when he sees Charlie.

Charlie clings onto Y/N's body as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. Tommy sees Y/N is sat on the bed, while she holds Charlie very gently against her and soothingly rubs his back.

So I'm back to the velvet underground

Back to the floor that I love

To a room with some lace and paper flowers

Back to the gypsy that I was

To the gypsy that I was

Tommy is taken aback by the sweet melody that flows out of Y/N's mouth. He is surprised by how sweet her voice is. But her voice also has an endearing rasp to it. Only voice that ever sounded good to him was Grace's. He never expected to appreciate anyone's voice after her's, let alone Y/N's.

The words that Y/N sung had stitched themselves like a thread, into his heart. The words take him back to Small Heath. They remind him of a much simpler time. They remind him of the happiness that he knew of, before the war. They remind him of the man he was. A man who knew how to laugh. A man who knew how to love life.

And it all comes down to you

Well, you know that it does, well

Lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice

Oh and it lights up the night

And you see your gypsy

You see your gypsy

Did Thomas Shelby hope for a life without pain? Absolutely. But hope is not in his body, anymore. Hope is something he has thrown away, a long time ago. Pain has made him who he is and he doesn't know if it's for the best or not. Before all this, he had a God. A God that he said his prayers to but he lost that as well.

He lost everything. Fucking everything.

To the gypsy that remains

Her face says freedom, with a little fear

I have no fear

I have only love

And if I was a child

And the child was enough

Enough for me to love

Enough to love

If he gives Y/N a chance, will she end up dying too? If he loves her, will she be taken away from him too?

Doesn't matter. He won't let anyone in, anymore. He made that mistake once. Not again. Besides, he's content with what he has. Charlie.

Charlie is all he needs.

She is dancing away from you now

She was just a wish

She was just a wish

And her memory is all that is left for you now

You see your gypsy, oh

You see your gypsy

The tears stream down Tommy's face like raindrops on a cold-blurry window. He doesn't even bother wiping them away. He puts the cigarette up to his lips and inhales the toxic smoke, that brings him peace.

And it all comes down to you

Lightning strikes

Maybe once, maybe twice

I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes

Y/N wipes her own eyes as she finishes the song. She looks down and sees Charlie sleeping, oh, so peacefully. She smiles and presses a gentle kiss on his head, before she slowly puts him down on the bed. She covers him with a blanket and delicately runs her finger across his cheek while staring down at him, lovingly.

Tommy watches Y/N's every single movement. He realises that she truly loves his son and genuinely cares for him. It makes him feel happ - no - satisfied with his choice to bring her in.

The overwhelming smell of smoke hits Y/N. A smell that isn't found in her room, ever. She snaps her head and looks at the doorway to see Tommy leaning against the doorframe. With a cigarette in his hand, of course.

Instead of calling out to him to ask if he needed anything, she climbs out of bed, not wanting to wake up the sleeping child. She slowly approaches Tommy and holds her dressing gown tightly against her body.

"Tommy, did you need someth -"

She stops mid-sentence when she notices his tear-stained face. She also notices tears in the corners of his eyes.

Y/N instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear droplet that slowly rolls down his temple. He watches her intently, as she does. His skin is soft beneath her gentle fingertips. She quickly realises what she's doing and regains her composure.

"What's wrong, Tommy?" Genuine concern is etched all over her face as she questions him. "Is everything all right?"

"The song...that you sang. Where is it from?" He croaks out.

Embarrassment dawns upon her as she realises he's heard her sing. She bites her lip and stares at the ground.

This is so unlike the two of them.

Tommy is always very emotionless and composed, but here he stands, broken and tearful.

Y/N is always incredibly confident and quick-witted, but now she found herself unable to speak properly and is a mess under Tommy's stare.

"I wrote it." She admits, slowly looking up from the ground. She gazes into his beautifully broken blue eyes. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, clearly impressed with her skill that he never knew she had.

"It's good." He compliments.

She blushes and nods at him, not being able to trust her voice to thank him.

Tommy sighs and stands up straight.

"You must be tired. I'll let you rest." Tommy states.

"I'm really not tired. You can come in and...talk,"

Y/N stares up at him, expectantly.

"If you'd like." She adds.

He barely shrugs, "All right."

___________________________________________

"What is the meaning behind the song?" Tommy asks as he lights up another cigarette. "I mean, what does it mean to you?"

"In London, where I grew up, there was an area where only the gypsies lived. No one went there, and by no one I mean, the elites. But my parents always did. Even though, they were part of the upper class, they didn't care about status. They always interacted with them, and most of my best friends were gypsies. I practically grew up with them. So I refer to myself as 'the gypsy that I was' because it makes me feel more grounded. It reminds me of the people that I've known and the people that I grew up with. Also, to remind myself that the people I love are gone, but I am not. I'm still here.

My best friend, James, died in the war. He was a gypsy, too. I'd known him my entire life. We were supposed to get married after he returned but that never happened due to the war. My father also died. I didn't know how to cope with the losses. So I put my heart and soul in this song. My grief is buried beneath these words.

The velvet underground stands for the velvet carpet in my father's bedroom. The lace and paper flowers were what James's family's house was decorated with. So yeah, little things like that makes the song so significant to me. That's what it means to me, I guess. Love and grief."

Y/N immediately shuts up as she realises she has rambled on for so long.

"Were you ever able to let go of that grief?"

She didn't expect Tommy to ask such emotional questions. She opens her mouth but is unable to string words together. She sighs and thinks about her answer before finally she speaks.

"Yes, I was. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I did. I had to remind myself that none of it was under my control. Death isn't something anyone of us can control. You never know when one of us will be gone. Tomorrow is never promised. We're living on a borrowed time. I was unable to live my life. I was numb. I felt like everything was over. But then I realised you shouldn't be upset over things that you cannot control. Then, I eventually accepted it and moved on with my life. It's not like I've let go of Papa and James. I've let go of the grief. Their memories are still with me. They always will be."

Tommy judged Y/N very quickly, when he first met her. He would've never guessed that she has gone through so much.

"I know losing your wife must've been really difficult for you and I also know that you blame yourself for it but as I said before, you shouldn't be upset over things that you cannot control."

Her doe E/C eyes stare into Tommy's blue ones. The strong emotions in her eyes makes him uneasy. Uneasy because he can't afford to feel again.

The pair had talked all night long and before they knew it, the sun was up. Y/N reminded herself, it was nothing just a tough night for Tommy and he needed someone to talk to. That's it.

However, deep down inside her, she hoped that this was a start of something. Maybe 'Shelby' won't just be a legal name, anymore. Maybe, it'll be the name she shares with someone she loves and who loves her back. Maybe, she'll finally feel like she is Mrs. Y/N Shelby. Maybe, she'll finally feel like she's Thomas Shelby's other half. Maybe, he'll finally realise that she is more than just a spare.

___________________________________________

I hope you all enjoyed part two. Part three will be up real soon so stay tuned. I really hope you all enjoyed this. R, xxx.

______________________________________

@sxperncturalimpala67 @lovemissyhoneybee

[sachigram]

I think a lot about Hearts Like Ours because I've been wanting to comment on the last chapter since it came out and I finally think I can. On another note, I read that "send me some Shizaya prompts you'd like to see! Who knows, maybe I'll write a few" please, don't feel obligated at all, but I can't write myself and I've been thinking about a story for a long time, about Izaya being in love with Shizuo since Highschool but extremely hurt because he hated him on sight, and then on present time +

“And then on present time Izaya finds out that someone is going to hurt Kasuka, Shizuo doesn't answer his phone so Izaya goes to the place himself and without thinking puts himself between Kasuka and the guy who has going to stab him, Kasuka takes him to Shinra and after this Shizuo gets obsessed with trying to know why Izaya would almost die for Kasuka.”

For you, @murasaki19! I wrote this very quickly, and I am sure there are errors, but I hope it cheers you up! <3 Your reviews mean a lot to me, and I’ve missed seeing your name in my notes. I’m always around if you need to talk! 

It happens by accident, really.

Izaya keeps tabs on everyone and everything; it's part of his informant position. Even the most trivial of information can be useful later, like pawns making it across the chessboard. Honestly, it has nothing to do with Shizuo or his family. Still, Izaya stumbles across a plot to kidnap Kasuka, and wars with himself on what to do about it.

On one hand, he hates Shizuo, and therefore, he hates Kasuka. He should revel in the idea of Kasuka being killed or worse, should love the thought of the anguish it would cause Shizuo to lose his precious baby brother.

On the other hand, Izaya has sisters, and he knows Shizuo has helped keep them out of trouble more than a few times, even while hating Izaya.

Something else entirely, Izaya doesn't want Shizuo to lose Kasuka, and it makes Izaya so sick of himself that he can't even look at his reflection on his dark phone screen.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shoving back from his computer. He picks up his phone, goes to Shizuo's contact, hesitates. He can call Shizuo and let the beast handle it. Whether Shizuo believes him or not, Izaya can say he tried, and that should settle his conscience, right? It should be the end of Izaya's involvement.

He presses the 'call' button. It rings once, and then goes to voicemail, and Izaya clenches his teeth, knowing Shizuo ignored the call and likely would delete a voicemail before listening to it. Izaya can't blame him, but still, being ignored always pisses Izaya off beyond anything else.

“Should just let him lose his fucking brother,” Izaya grumbles to no one. Namie left for the day, and no one else will be coming by. Shinra likely would ignore a call from Izaya as well. He's alone in this, as he normally is.

For once, he finally feels the emptiness.

***

He's in the city— He doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

The men who are going to take Kasuka have his work schedule figured out. It's not hard to attain information like that, as long as you know the right people. Izaya himself buys most of his information, and turns around and sells it to whoever asks. It's possible some of these men work with Kasuka, or some of them could have hacked into his file, his schedule, his manager's schedules. Something like this just happened with Kasuka's little girlfriend, right? And then Shinra got attacked. Everyone should have learned a lesson from that, but...

“The more things change,” Izaya mutters aloud.

“Hello?” A man's voice answers him. Izaya sighs, realizing Kasuka heard him and is addressing him. Kasuka is alone— Why is he alone? Where's security? Where's the driver? The car is parked, so where is the fucking driver? “Oh. Orihara-san?”

“Yes,” Izaya says, quieting the questions zipping through his mind. He has an image to maintain, if nothing else, and even if he wasn't consciously planning on coming here, he's here now, and he has to make it look like he meant to be.

“Did you...need something?” Kasuka asks, and Izaya can only imagine how confused Kasuka must be. He's heard awful things for years about Izaya, true things, and all Kasuka knows is that Izaya hates Shizuo, and Shizuo hates Izaya.

“Why are you alone?” Izaya asks, stalling. He moves away from the wall he was leaning against and inches closer to Kasuka.

“My driver is across the street, grabbing to-go food. The guards are right by the door,” Kasuka says in his usual bored tone.

“Inside isn't close enough to stop something from happening,” Izaya says, and Kasuka tilts his head.

“Are you going to attack me or something?”

“I'm only saying, it would be better for you to have someone around, anyone.” Izaya looks over his shoulder, paranoid. He doesn't care about what happens to Kasuka. He's told himself that over and over, and yet, here he is.

“Well. You're here,” Kasuka says with a shrug. “And my driver will be right back.”

Izaya is about to answer and say something along the lines of, 'why wouldn't a big celebrity have his own bodyguards?', or, 'isn't your girlfriend some kind of monster with inhuman strength?', but he doesn't get the chance. Everything happens so fast from there, and even afterwards, Izaya still doesn't know what exactly happened.

All he knows is, he wakes up at Shinra's, and there's a hole in his stomach.

***

“I'm just. I'm floored, you know? I'm totally flabbergasted!” Shinra says jovially as he applies something to Izaya's wound. “Kasuka-san called me and was as close to panicking as can be allowed. He hasn't sounded like that since Hijiribe-san got injured. He drove you here and said you took a knife for him! Could it be that my influence from all those years ago rubbed off on you?”

“Would you please stop talking?” Izaya asks, irritated for many reasons, one of which being Shinra's voice. He has another scar from a knife wound. Izaya doesn't ever want to get stabbed again. It's not fun at all. He wouldn't recommend it to anybody.

“I just wanna know what was going through your head!” Shinra chatters. “Did you know what you were doing? It seems like you don't remember. Did you know the news is reporting you as a hero? They used your name! Hey, are you listening?” Shinra leans over Izaya, squinting at him.

“I don't remember it,” Izaya says, shoving Shinra away. “I was on autopilot.”

“Ah, well,” Shinra says. He leans back in his chair and shrugs a bit. “I think maybe you're working on clearing your bad name. Unfortunately, you'll have to get stabbed a lot more.”

Celty walks in, and Izaya sees his reflection in her helmet. He closes his eyes, not wanting to deal with her, but Shinra laughs at whatever she tells him.

“Kasuka-san is here to visit you. We told him you were awake.”

“What!” Izaya tries to sit up, regrets it immediately. He falls into the sheets with a wince. “I don't want to see him.”

“Sorry,” Kasuka's voice says, already in the room. “They said it was okay.”

“One day, I'm going to sell Shinra to pirates,” Izaya says.

“That might work. A doctor always has value,” Kasuka replies, and Izaya nods. There's silence for a few moments, and then Kasuka clears his throat. “You saved me.”

“I didn't. Or, I didn't mean to.”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don't. It's gross; I don't want your thanks.”

“Still,” Kasuka insists, and when Izaya looks over at him, Kasuka is giving him an earnest expression. “I could be in this bed, or much worse. I could be dead. Thank you.”

“Thanking me would be acceptable if I went with the intention of saving you. I didn't. I didn't think about it, and I don't remember it. So really, you don't have to—“

There's a bang in the next room, followed by Shinra shouting.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“Oh,” Kasuka says, and then he stands. “Shizuo's here.”

“Fucking great,” Izaya mutters. He wonders if Shinra can give him more drugs.

Heavy footsteps thud towards the door, and then it's flying open, revealing a frantic Shizuo. Immediately, he's on Kasuka, looking him over, talking so quickly that Izaya realizes he's already on a lot of drugs, because he can't focus on it. Izaya giggles and moves his hands around in the air, finally feeling the effects of whatever Shinra gave him.

“Why's he here?!” Shizuo barks, and Izaya drops his hands and pouts up at the Heiwajima brothers.

“Can't you have a reunion elsewhere? I'm recovering from an ordeal,” Izaya says, and he blinks as his words slur. “Shinra! What did you give me?”

“Morphine,” Shinra calls.

“I like it.”

“Most people do.”

“Orihara-san—“ Kasuka begins.

“Gross, call me Izaya,” Izaya interjects.

“Uh. Izaya-san saved me. He took a knife for me,” Kasuka continues.

“What? That's fucking impossible. I'm sure he's probably the one who hired those guys to begin with,” Shizuo says, and Izaya tries to be offended, but can't really argue.

“No. Izaya-san showed up on his own, and then some men charged us. Izaya-san jumped in front of me, and then my guards came out from all the noise.”

“I don't buy it. He was involved,” Shizuo argues.

“Even if he was, he paid a price for it,” Kasuka says. Izaya is back to waving his hands around, and he pauses when he feels that everyone is looking at him.

“Am I supposed to say something profound?” Izaya asks. “I think— I think I'm stoned.”

Shizuo marches over to the bed and hovers over Izaya. He glares down at him, and Izaya tries to remember the last time they were this close. Didn't Shizuo headbutt him?

“Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you save my brother?” Shizuo asks.

“I didn't save anyone,” Izaya says, and then he reaches up and touches the tip of Shizuo's nose. “Boop.”

Shizuo snarls down at him, and then someone, probably Celty, drags Shizuo away. Izaya looks up at the empty space Shizuo left and misses Shizuo occupying it. Then, someone else hovers over him.

“I won't forget this, Izaya-san.” Kasuka puts his hand over Izaya's and squeezes. “Thank you.”

“Oh. Go away,” Izaya mutters, and he rolls over. “Being thanked so much reminds me why I'd rather everyone cursed me.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Kasuka says.

“Don't thank him! Don't apologize to him! What the fuck!” Shizuo barks from somewhere, and then Izaya passes out again.

***

Next time he wakes, he's alone.

He reaches for his phone on the table next to the bed. He has messages from Namie, from Shiki, from his sisters. He grumbles and reads through Mairu's babbling about how much she loves him for taking a knife for Yuhei. He replies with a series of emojis, most of them the dancing red dress woman.

Namie asks if Izaya has a brain tumor.

Shiki wants to know if Izaya will return to work now that he's an A-list hero.

“Feeling better?” Shinra asks, and Izaya looks over at him. “You've been pretty out of it.”

“Am I still high?” Izaya asks.

“I hope not. I've been lowering your dosage. Are you in pain?”

“Mm. A little.”

“Do you want more medicine?”

“No. I'd like to think clearly.” Izaya puts his phone down. “I really don't remember it. I just...acted.”

“That's okay,” Shinra says. There's a beat of silence, and then, “You told me some...interesting things while you were doped up.”

“Ugh.” Izaya covers his eyes. “Were we alone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Celty was in bed. It was just us.”

“Are we alone now?” Izaya asks, his voice muffled from his hands.

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

Shinra laughs. “You said you didn't want to give Shizuo-kun another reason to hate you.”

“...is that all?” Izaya prompts.

“You might have mentioned loving him. Once or twice.”

“I changed my mind, I want more drugs,” Izaya says, and Shinra laughs again.

“It's okay. Really. I already kind of knew. You aren't as hard to read as you think you are,” Shinra says, and Izaya peeks up at him.

“I knew you knew.” Izaya groans and rubs his eyes. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters,” Shinra says softly. “Loving someone always matters.”

“Oh, shut up,” Izaya says. “Anyway, can I go soon?”

“I want to keep you a little longer. Your wound is still bleeding a bit, and I can't let you go before I know for sure your stitches won't pop open. It'd be bad if your intestines started to escape, you know?”

“I imagine it wouldn't be good.”

“Have you thought of telling him?” Shinra asks. “Shizuo-kun, I mean. You could tell him.”

“And then what?” Izaya prompts. “He wouldn't believe me, and I wouldn't blame him. No, it's better he not know. I'm glad he wasn't in the room when I was out of it.”

Shinra sighs. “I wish he would have been.”

The day passes slowly. Izaya replies to messages on his phone, barks at Shinra for a charger when his phone starts to die. He and Shinra play cards, and Izaya's chest clenches when he thinks of how long it's been since he spent time with Shinra like this.

“You know, you can come over sometime,” Shinra says, clearly thinking the same. “I'd like that.”

“Your girlfriend hates me,” Izaya says.

“You think everyone hates you. You think it before they even know you. Besides, Celty is a forgiving angel. She doesn't hate anyone. Except, well, I guess she hates cops.”

When the sun starts to set, Shizuo comes back. Izaya pretends to be asleep, but Shizuo isn't having it. He shakes Izaya roughly until Izaya looks up at him through narrowed eyes.

“What?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo glares at him.

“Why'd you save my brother?”

“I told you, I don't know!” Izaya hisses, and he tries to roll away from Shizuo.

“Well, I decided I'm not leaving until you tell me!” Shizuo replies.

Izaya groans at the ceiling, and then he turns to Shizuo.

“You got me. I saved him so you'd owe me one. Now, I can ask you to do anything, and you have to do it.”

“Bullshit,” Shizuo says. “You think I don't know when you're lying? I can tell.”

“I don't know why,” Izaya says.

“Bullshit,” Shizuo says again.

“I don't know what you want me to say. You won't believe me no matter what my answer is.”

“You could try telling the truth. You know, for once.”

Izaya turns over and pulls his pillow over his head, refusing to answer. True to his word, Shizuo plops down into the chair Shinra was occupying earlier and refuses to leave.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Shinra asks a bit later.

“I guess,” Shizuo says.

“I always wanted us all to hang out!” Shinra says happily, and Shizuo and Izaya tell him to 'shut the fuck up' at the same time.

After dinner, and after Shinra offers to hand-feed Izaya for the tenth time, Shizuo winds up falling asleep on the chair, his arms crossed across his chest, his head lolling to the side. Even asleep, he looks irritated. It's not the first time Izaya's seen his sleeping face, but it's interesting nonetheless.

“I guess he's staying,” Shinra says, entering the room. He tosses a blanket over Shizuo. “I think this is progress.”

“He's just a stubborn monster,” Izaya mutters, and when Shinra leaves the room and turns the light out, Izaya is left listening to Shizuo's quiet breathing.

It's been a long time since Izaya slept in the same room as someone. He's used to his sisters falling asleep on him, and he's stayed with Shinra a few times, but this is something new. His worst enemy is unconscious next to him. Izaya knows he should be taking advantage of this, but he doesn't. He spends his time scrolling through his phone, and when he's bored of that, he watches Shizuo sleep. It's creepy, he knows it is. Izaya's always watched people because it's easier than interacting with them. Like this, it's almost like they could be friends, neither of them talking or arguing.

Shizuo twitches in his sleep and makes a noise, and Izaya tears his eyes away.

“I saved him for you,” Izaya whispers, knowing Shizuo won't hear him anyway. After a few minutes, Izaya sits up and carefully detaches himself from various wires. He can't stay here anymore, stitches be damned. He steps past Shizuo and pads down the hallway, collecting his things before he exits the apartment and arranges for someone to pick him up.

It's easier to be alone.

***

A week passes. Izaya works from his bed, relents to letting Shinra come give him checkups, and tortures Namie into bringing him things. By the end of the week, Namie is threatening to smother him with a pillow, which is actually pretty tame for her. Izaya isn't too worried about it. He knows she carries a paralyzing serum with her, after all. The fact she hasn't used it yet means she doesn't hate him too much.

She tells him she's leaving for the day, and he grunts at her, his eyes glued to the screen of his tablet. He's reading about Kasuka's latest gig, silently appraising the raise of security around Kasuka since the incident. Izaya's sisters have since cursed him, saying they'll never get through all the people around Kasuka now. Kasuka recently sent Izaya a fruit basket, and Izaya considers calling to Namie to bring him a pear, but he thinks better of it. She's pretty pissed at him already.

Next thing he knows, someone is in the doorway of his bedroom, loudly crunching on an apple.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, setting the tablet down.

“That lady let me in,” Shizuo says as he strides across the room. “Did Kasuka send you this? The arrangement looked expensive.”

“He did. I don't suppose I could convince you to bring me a pear?” Izaya asks.

“I'll bring you one if you answer my questions honestly,” Shizuo says.

“Still caught up on that, huh? I've already said all there is to say.”

“Your loss, I guess,” Shizuo says with a shrug. “I'll start eating the pears next.”

“I hate you,” Izaya hisses. He crosses his arms and grumbles. “I wish I'd let your brother get stabbed instead.”

“Yeah, well. You didn't.”

“I should have. I wanted to.”

“Did you? Want to?”

Izaya exhales loudly and dramatically. “No. You wouldn't have let my sisters get stabbed. It's the same.”

“Yeah, but... It's not the same,” Shizuo says. “Kasuka is a grown man, and he's supposed to have guards on him. He's supposed to have people. Your sisters don't have anyone but you, and sometimes you're...”

“Inadequate?” Izaya asks.

“One person,” Shizuo corrects. “You're one person, and they escape where you can watch.”

“Dota-chin helps them, too. A lot of people do. I appreciate it, even if I don't say so.” Izaya groans and rubs at his wound under his shirt.

“Does it still hurt?” Shizuo asks.

“Yes. It's not too bad, though.”

“Shinra told me he took a knife for you once. It was crazy. I was pissed at him because I thought, if someone had just killed you then, I wouldn't have had to meet you at all.”

“I might have died,” Izaya says. “Nakura-kun hated me. He might have aimed somewhere more lethal the second time.”

“You didn't care though, did you? You wouldn't have cared if he wanted to kill you. You never cared when I wanted to,” Shizuo says.

“Who can say?” Izaya asks, and then he smiles. “I might have cared a little.”

“I don't want to hate you anymore,” Shizuo says. “You saved Kasuka. No matter what your reasons were, you saved him. And even before... Before, I was thinking I didn't want to hate you. It just seems like if we stay this way...”

“We'll die?” Izaya asks. Shizuo nods.

“I don't want to kill you, and I don't want you to kill me. I don't want to explain to your sisters that I murdered you.”

“So then, what do you propose?” Izaya asks.

“A truce? We can... I guess we don't have to be friends, but we could try not to kill each other. How's that?” Shizuo asks.

“That's fine. Whatever.” Izaya stretches, and then he pouts at Shizuo. “Now can you bring me a pear?”

“Brat,” Shizuo says, but he does just that.

They spend hours together. Izaya has a TV in his room for just this occasion, him getting injured and being bed-bound. Shizuo likes trash TV as it turns out, and Izaya delights in making fun of him for it. By the time Izaya's eyes are drooping, Shizuo is already hunched over, resting his head on Izaya's bed.

“You can stay. If you want.” Izaya wants to rest his hand on Shizuo's head, but he resists. “It's pretty late.”

“Yeah. I will, then,” Shizuo says, and Izaya expects Shizuo to either go down to the couch, or to the guest bedroom, but instead, Shizuo is climbing in bed next to Izaya and settling in.

“I hope your monster scent washes out with regular detergent,” Izaya mutters, hating the way his heart soars and then pounds in his ears at Shizuo's close proximity.

“Oh, fuck you,” Shizuo says, but he doesn't sound mad.

They're quiet for a while, and Izaya thinks maybe Shizuo has fallen asleep, but then Shizuo laughs softly in the darkness of the room.

“What is it?” Izaya asks.

“Just this. Us. If we tried to talk sooner, maybe we could've avoided a lot of things.”

“You wouldn't have listened. I wouldn't have listened either,” Izaya says.

“I know. It had to be this way.” Shizuo hums, and then he moves closer, tossing an arm over Izaya, who tenses up at the contact. “Is this okay?”

“Okay?”

“It doesn't hurt?”

“Oh. No, I mean, it's fine. This is fine.”

Shizuo laughs, moving closer. He inhales Izaya's hair, nuzzles into it.

“For a smart guy, you're an idiot, you know?”

“How so?” Izaya asks, bristling.

“You just are. You're easy to read.”

“I am not!”

“Mm.” Shizuo pulls Izaya closer, and Izaya wills himself to calm down or die, either would be fine at this point. “Tell me, why'd you save my brother?”

“Because I wanted to,” Izaya says, finding there is truth in that answer.

“Okay,” Shizuo murmurs. “That's good enough for me.”

Shizuo's lips press to Izaya's, and Izaya gasps softly, his hands on Shizuo's shoulders.

“I already know why, anyway,” Shizuo says, and Izaya pulls him into another kiss before they can argue.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

WARNING DRAMA AHEAD

(Which is crazy because I try to actively have a drama free lifestyle)

So, awhile back I wrote about some issues in a friend group containing A & Em. Summary: I chatted with Em about A unintentionally making me feel shitty for FINALLY accepting my limitations & making lifestyle & wardrobe changes to reflect that. Em said she'd talk to A because if I did it, A might feel attacked & get defensive.

Day before yesterday, Em dropped by to hang, help me put together a shoerack, and go to a local costume shop that does rentals and serves all the theater departments & dance companies in a 70 mile radius. This shop is amazing, been around since I was little, almost everything is hand made with amazing care and detail, and the decor in their shop is ever changing, detailed, and super fucking cool. ANYWAY, we got on the subject of A, whom I've only seen once or twice since talking to Em about it & seemed ok both times aside from getting legit pissed that I'm better at macrame plant holders than she is. Apparently A currently thinks I dislike her or like her less or something. So I asked Em if I should gently talk to her about it and see if we can reach an understanding. She said she thought it was a good idea h really, I don't like one of my friends thinking I dislike them. So yesterday I pulled together some courage and messaged her. The following is the conversation that occured:

Me: So, I've heard that you are upset and under the impression that I don't like you anymore or like you less or something. So I'm gonna clear the air, but I'm gonna be blunt and honest with you because I'm not down for lying. K? (And let me go ahead and flat out say, I don't dislike you or like you any less)

A:I've just been feeling some reservations toward me lately. Go ahead I can take blunt.

(Spoiler: she cannot take even sugarcoated gentle level blunt)

ME: So here is the deal. My illness is eternal and is only ever going to get worse. In fact, it is constantly getting worse in small, large, and sometimes interesting & unexpected ways. Sometimes it creeps on slowly, sometimes it hits like an anvil was dropped on me. Therefore I am constantly having to adjust my lifestyle, activities, wardrobe... EVERYTHING. Very recently, I realized that I have spent the last 3 years trying to live my old life and just cope so my quality of life has been SHIT. I've finally truly accepted the shithole that is my health for what it is and have started to truly make real adjustments to my lifestyle, hobbies, wardrobe, ect. Because I will never get better and live in about 400 sq ft (at best) that means when I realize something doesn't fit my abilities or needs anymore, I get rid of it. However, I always offer those things to the kids & my friends first before donating them. But here's the thing, when I offer these things to you, I get a load of questions & comments that end up making me feel like I have failed as a person for realizing what has taken me 3 years to realize. For example: when I told you that Julia's candles were my last batch ever, there were loads of 'have you tried...' and 'I'm sure you can find a way.' I know you mean well, but if I'm giving something up, I've truly tried ever avenue to make it work within my limits and it just doesn't. Even after I quit candles in May, I kept the stuff (which took up massive space) until August because I doubted myself and was reluctant to lose another hobby. But I need to face facts and be realistic. Same with the sweater. I am drastically altering my wardrobe for whatever the upcoming season is to fit the fact that I need my cane at all times now (POCKETS) and the fact that my clothes need to be comfy enough for me to get dressed every day not just days I'm leaving the house. I've lived in PJs for the last year and a half and it's not good for my mental health. So all things that don't fit that criteria or my new altered lifestyle must go. And it's going to be a constant process because I'm constantly getting worse. The jewelry making stuff, I genuinely forgot you wanted it because honestly i don't even remember what happened yesterday, so I'm sorry. (I had jewelry making supplies that I can't use anymore due to -15 hand strength, which I gave to Em.)

A: I'm sorry that I've been putting you down and making you feel shity. That's never been my intention. If I ask a ton of questions it's not because I don't understand the severity and challenges in your daily life. I ask so many questions because I often find unconventional wacky solutions to peoples problems all the time and if I can be in the slightest bit helpful in finding a loophole or a way you might not have seen, I thought that would be better than just saying "I'm so sorry to hear that" I figured you hear that enough but idk how often you hear people actually trying to find a way. Like the sweater example, I would have been happy to take you shopping for a fun print material the made you some pockets. Outside like a cool patchwork with awesome prints, or inside like a bond detective. But you were so quick to snap at me and explain your whole situation like I am not taking you seriously. I ask because I want to hear your needs and maybe just maybe be able to help out. But if all I do is make you feel like your grandma did then I'll do you a favor and stop inviting myself over to make you feel shitty. I'm glad Emma always knows just what to say.

Now at this point, I stopped replying. I was kind of shocked at her response. Like, I expected her to explain her intentions, despite me making it clear I knew her intentions were good, because that's what people do. I expected us to discuss how things should be moving forward so I don't continue to feel like a failure. I considered maybe mentioning somewhere in there that if I want help or advice or solutions, I'll fucking ask. But I did NOT expect those last couple sentences where she basically stomped her feet and said well since this isn't going how I want, I'm not playing with you guys anymore.

After careful thought, writing & editing over a 5 hr period, I sent this (which are screenshots from my notes because typing is rough, I wanted to convey what I wanted just right, and now you have to click on them to see the full thing. I'm sorry I've failed you, the reader of this normal convo turned melodrama, in such a fashion.):

She responded at like 2 am (when I was asleep) so I saw there was a response when I woke up, but given the history of her behavior in situations like this (conveyed via Em, who has known her MUCH longer) I decided not to open it just yet, as I'd like to relax and enjoy my day. This shit stresses me out. I don't do drama and tantrums. I don't tolerate it from my teenage Spawn, much less fucking adults. I get the feeling that the response is going to be just as melodramatic & tantrum filled. If this is how she handles her intentions not aligning with the result of her actions that were driven by said intentions, then she's in for a real shock when she leaves the cuddlebox of college and enters the real world. Your boss isn't going to care about how good your intentions were when you accidentally burned down the kitchen of the bakery you work in. They will just care that you burned down their fucking business.

Welp, may as well rip off the bandaid. For you, my dear reader, to have closure I will read the response. Back in a sec.

OMG IT WAS SO MUCH MORE DRAMATIC THAN I EXPECTED.

A:I understand. And I told you where I stand. I am the type of friend that instinctually tries to help those she cares deeply about. I'm not the friend to just sit and feel bad when there's something I can do. But I have been feeling for a while now unwanted and you have confirmed it by not saying anything then, just talking about it to my former close friend, and then throwing it in my face that you have been holding on to a box cuz of me. And like the adult i am, I don't see why I should change the type of friend I am just because some one is ungrateful for it. I'll go help someone else leave their abusive boyfriend's in the middle of the night. for the people I care about I'd do anything, anything except sit and do nothing while I'm told how much worse I make things when I try and help. I will just take my good intentions elsewhere. I have had the worst year of my life but I don't remember you asking me once anyway. I wish you the best buy obviously your life is better without me and my negativity in it. I truly am sorry I hurt your feelings and I never ever wanted to. I cherished your friendship more than you'll ever know and you can ask anyone. But because I can't see myself sitting by biting my tongue around you and waking on eggshells because I clearly can't see the bounty between helpful conversion and being a cunt. Since I respect you so much I'll go ahead and remove that stupid cunt from your life so you won't be put down again.

HOOOLY SHIT. I'm not responding to that giant fucking dramatic pity party. She legit needs to grow the fuck up. Good god.