#bc i’m so tired of being strong and angry and harsh

[howdoyousleep3]

have been feeling sad so i dyed my hair dark brown and put on some fake freckles and got an iced lavender latte, feeling better now lol

[sanktnikolais]

this is what love does

A/N: so here is your friendly neighbor zoyalai who rewrote that scene in the Os Kervo main hall (Rule of Wolves chapter 46). Idk man this is what I have in mind and I just wanted to put more monologue and make some drastic changes KJHASDFLKHASDF 

i think their scene in this chapter could have gone better ngl ahjsfkajsf but if you’re okay with canon, i’m absolutely glad you are. I just needed to make this bc my zoyalai heart said so HHAHAHA

as always @wafflesandkruge enabled me again and volunteered to edit this mess so thank you ily  🥺

contains some spoilers for Rule of Wolves so pls beware before reading :> 

Word count: 4169

When the doors to the hall finally closed, Zoya released a breath of frustration. She wanted a moment of total silence, where she could shut out the voices of the people chanting her name or the affirmative tones of the dukes that agreed with Nikolai in nominating her as Ravka’s new queen. A bottle of brandy would be good too, and yet it didn’t materialize out of thin air just as she wanted it to.

          She put a hand to her forehead, feeling the fatigue from the war slowly drain what was left of her strength. This was madness—everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Headache after headache, they kept coming like the barrage of Fjerdan firepower they had just encountered in the battlefield hours ago. 

          But the biggest headache of all was standing right in front of her in all his confident glory, the small grin never leaving his lips even as Zoya scowled at him. Nikolai Lantsov was a royal through and through. And despite the dirt that still smudged on his face, or the dried blood on his collar, he never lost that spark in him, no matter what he said about not wanting to claim the Lantsov bloodline. 

          How could he suddenly expect her to do this on her own terms? 

          "Are you out of your saintsforsaken mind?" Zoya hissed at the smiling king. He still was the king, and would continue to be as far as she was concerned. "I could strike you with lightning right now but I don't think I have the energy left for that."

          Nikolai's grin turned into a wince. "Ah, but I'm always in the right state of mind," he said as he approached her with rather careful steps as if he was testing the waters around her. "And I have never been more sane and sober than now, Zoya."

          The urge to summon lightning at him was still strong, but she shoved the thought down. Ravka didn't need another funeral right now, and especially not for its king. 

          "Say something spiteful." 

          Zoya furrowed her eyebrows. "What?" 

          "You're scowling again, and I think the only way to really know you're angry is when you combine your scowl with harsh words." 

          “Do you really have a death wish?" 

          The infuriating king pretended to think for a moment, his eyes narrowing curiously as he scratched the spot behind his ear. “I think we’ve had enough of staring down death today—”

          Thunder rumbled in the skies as Zoya’s anger flared, and Nikolai flinched. But Nikola, being himself, recovered quickly with a grin. She looked at him in disbelief. It was both baffling and amazing how fast this man could change into one of his masks in just a matter of a second and then he was another person entirely. 

          It was their difference—Zoya didn’t have that skill. She’d never had the capability of pretending. Where she had walls around her heart to hide the girl who once believed in fairy tales and love and other nonsense, Nikolai wore his masks like they were his second skin, and it blended with the boy who just wanted what was best for his country, until he didn’t know who he was anymore. 

          She had never shown any signs of weakness or vulnerability, and even if she did, she would still deny it until she convinced her heart it had never happened. But he was different. He was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve if he wanted to, displaying his emotions at all times. And if he didn’t get anything out of it, he would put his mask back on like nothing happened.

          Zoya hid; Nikolai pretended. If she were to look at it, pretending was better than hiding. 

          “Is it really that bad?” Nikolai asked softly. 

          Yes. 

          No.

          I don’t know.

          If she were still the same person she had been three years ago, she knew she would have accepted the offer right away. But things had changed and progressed since then, and whoever she once was, someone who wanted so much power, was long gone. 

          “We both know I’m not cut out for this, Nikolai,” she replied.

          He didn’t say anything else, and just waited. Zoya huffed in frustration.

          “You’re the diplomat, the charmer.” She gestured in the air vaguely. “Even if you’re not of the royal bloodline, there is no denying that you’ve always had the knack for this. I’m just—”

          She was just what? A general? A Grisha who broke the boundaries of the Orders and achieved the impossible? An actual living saint? 

          Zoya let out a breath. A shadow passed on Nikolai’s face, his expression darkening to some kind of disappointment as if he already knew what she was going to say. But considering everything they had been through, it was definitely safe to say he knew her no matter how good she was at hiding. 

          She still said it anyway. “I’m just no one.”

          “Don’t even go there.”

          “You know I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean, Nikolai. I was meant to be a soldier, to train and lead armies to their victory and be with them until our very last breaths. It was always like that.” And when Nikolai looked like he was about to contradict her, Zoya beat him to it by raising a finger to silence him. “Don't. There's nothing to say. And don’t start with me by saying you were never meant for the crown, nor the throne. That may have been the case, but you are what Ravka has needed for a long time. You fought for it instead of selling it. Hurt for it, bled for it, almost dying twice just to keep it from the mud. If that’s not what a king does, then I don’t know what I should call it.”

          “A job well done?” he offered, laughing lightly when she gave him a glare that could silence the Second Army in a heartbeat. “I’m merely joking, Nazyalensky.”

          “Can you be serious for once?” Zoya shook her head, heading over to one of the benches and slumping down on it. 

          It was only then she felt the weight of today’s war come back to her, and she found herself not wanting to stand up for a moment. Maybe she would just stay here until  the madness outside passed, though she knew it would take a while. 

          She hunched forward with her eyes trained on her hands clasped together on her knees. She couldn’t bear to look at him as of the moment, and it irked her as it felt like she was hiding yet again and she was already tired of doing that. But when an enormous responsibility was suddenly presented to her, along with the ability to hold power over everything else, didn’t she have the right to hesitate or even think about it? 

          It felt like being appointed to the Grisha Triumvirate again after the war the Darkling waged that almost took Ravka down with it, and they were forced to stand up on their own feet to save the country from drowning right after fighting for their lives. It was never fair, but they braved through it. 

          But at what cost? 

          It doesn’t stop with us. It never does.

          It was what David always used to say, and Zoya found those words haunting her every night after his death, knowing all too well she could have done so much better to protect him and save Genya from her pain. If it didn’t stop with them, what difference would it make if it was her seated on the throne? 

          Ravka was finally free, even if not completely yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel they had long since walked through was already bright as any star could have been. 

          A shadow on the marbled floor caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see Nikolai kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. She almost—almost—wrenched away from him, but then she realized that it was him, the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and bared everything to her without a second thought. He was looking up at her with such a soft, understanding expression on his face that she wondered if she was seeing right. 

          She blinked, and then she felt as if she was back at the ship again, hearing his confession that took the breath out of her lungs and made her heart beat like it had never been before. 

          And for the past years of her life and the rest that would still come, Zoya was sure she would never feel as frightened as she was now. 

          You promised yourself you would speak your heart when you had the chance, didn’t you? she scolded in her mind. Only the saints knew how much she had waited for this moment between them after the war. She almost didn’t have the chance. So why was she trying to run away from it again?

          He was so, so near, and yet she was still terrified to reach for him. 

          "I can't do this, Nikolai," she said instead. 

          "I will be by your side." Always, was what hung at the end and not said aloud, but she knew he meant it. 

          Zoya felt a small smile on her lips, the urge to touch his face becoming stronger than her will to fight it. What was stopping her? Her pride? Maybe it really was that, but her damn pride had already cost her enough. 

          So she reached a hand up to his cheek, her touch gentle as the breeze that fluttered in the room when her skin met his. 

          Nikolai learned in her hand almost immediately, a content sigh coming from his lips. 

          "I would give my life for Ravka over and over again, as I know you would too," she whispered, her thumb gently brushing his cheekbone. She dropped her hand and put it on top of his. "But I don't think this is what's best for Ravka. We have fought and lived through the wars it suffered. We vowed to drag it from the mud it had fallen into until our last breaths, and now that it can finally stand up on its own, I think it's had its fill of kings and queens and wars. Ravka now needs to listen to its people."

          Zoya knew it sounded ambitious and audacious, but it could be a start, a beginning of a new age. The journey would be a tedious one, as always, but she knew it was worth the try. Ravka was always worth the try, no matter how much it took from them. 

          Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Zoya was thankful for it being a comfortable one rather than a tense pause. She searched his eyes, trying to find the stubborn glint in them as a sign that he was thinking of arguing back. But she didn't see it. 

          There was only the look he had always sent her way, the same one he had when he bared his heart to her in the airship, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She really ought to strangle him for making her feel this way. 

          "Spoken like a true queen, I'd say," said Nikolai with a laugh. 

          Zoya scoffed, grateful for the sudden distraction. "I remember that I didn't agree with the proposal of me being the new queen, so that means you're still the king, Your Idiocy." 

          There was a hint of an amused grin at the corner of his lips. "What can I say? When I thought of what's best for Ravka, my mind instantly thought of you." 

          "Didn’t I ask you to be serious even just for once?"

          "You speak as if I were making those words up." 

          "If you know what's best for you and Ravka, you would stop trying to change my mind because my decision would remain the same."

          Nikolai smiled ruefully. "I know." He paused, turning his attention to their joined hands. There was an unusual slump in his shoulders, something she rarely saw him have. He sighed, and then slowly pressed his forehead to her knuckles. "I thought I lost you today," he said quietly. 

             Her heart clenched at the pain in his voice, but she understood it. She almost lost him today too. "You won't be rid of me that easily, Nikolai," Zoya said. 

          He chuckled, and it sounded more in pain than in amusement. Then he drew in a shaky breath before looking back up at her. "When I saw you fall, I thought the worst and I—" He stopped with a dry laugh. "But I guess you're right, I won't be able to get rid of you that easily." 

          She felt a smile curl on her lips. "I should be the one telling you that, but I figure it can go both ways," Zoya said, and before she could make herself hide away again, she gave in and lowered her forehead to touch his. In a soft whisper, she said, "But I've never been more grateful you're still here with me." 

          They were still here, alive and breathing, and she was glad they both got to see the end of the day. When she felt herself plummeting to the ground, she thought that it was her end, and she had accepted it. Exhaustion crept in her bones, her own strength not enough to whip up a draft to cushion her fall. But there was a gust of wind—from Nadia or from Adrik—that caught her, saving her from the deadly impact. 

          And then a voice. His voice, full of worry and hurt and pain, pleading her to wake. He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again, and it was during that moment she allowed herself to wish that he would be the one she would wake up to every morning, and the last one she’d see when she fell asleep at night. 

          It had reminded Zoya of the time she saved the king from falling once, back when they were just soldiers fighting for their lives in the Fold, and she wondered if he had been glad to see her when he opened his eyes.

          Nikolai reached a hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers light as if she were the most important thing in the world that he was finally allowed to touch. His eyes never wavered from hers. 

          "I would still choose you, you know," he suddenly said, his voice trembling. "Even if you didn't want to do anything with me anymore. Even if you were in some place else, reassigned to another position. Even if you didn't want me." He tried to smile, but it seemed to take more effort than just not. "I'd still want you. I'd still want you with everything in me."

          Zoya already knew how he felt for her beforehand, his confession back in the ship sharpening into focus in her mind. And yet she still felt like she heard him bare his heart to her for the first time, even when he had already been doing it for years. 

          It would be so easy to tell him that she felt the same; those three words that were hanging between them for a long time begging to be set free. But still a small, terrified part of her held back, and she realized that it was the girl she had once been, the girl who believed in everything before the cruel world took that magic away from her and replaced it with fear. 

          This is what love does. It took away everything, blinded one's logic and reasoning, and even brought pain that no one should feel. Why should people hurt when all they ever wanted was to have and feel the love they deserved? 

          “I know I’ve already told you this on the ship,” Nikolai continued, the rueful smile returning to his lips. “But I wanted you to hear it again, as I almost didn’t have the chance today. No prince and no power could ever make me stop wanting you.” 

          Zoya felt her breath get knocked out from her lungs again, but her doubts and insecurities continued to cloud her, lingering in her as if they were the only ones her heart knew of. “Maybe for now you will want me.” She paused, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She closed them instead; she didn’t think she could bear looking at him. “But soon enough you will grow to hate me. I’m too sharp. Too angry. Too spiteful.” And you deserve so much better than that. “That’s who I am, Nikolai.”

          “Zoya,” Nikolai murmured.

          She felt his breath ghost over her skin, and yet she still refused to look at him. She couldn’t. But if there was one thing she knew about Nikolai Lantsov, it was his persistence for everything. 

          “Zoya, my love. Look at me,” he said softly, and this time Zoya finally obliged him. 

          An unwanted ache clogged her throat as she met his gaze, bright and warm and open. There was nothing in them except the sincerity he always had around her. In this light, his hazel eyes looked almost golden. He had a golden spirit. Then it struck her, as she remembered the words from a memory a long time ago, that maybe she was finally looking at that boy in her aunt’s story. He had been in front of her all along.

          Nikolai grinned, his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them, and there were tears clouding them as well. “You speak as if I haven’t seen you at your worst,” he said. 

          “You will grow tired of me, Nikolai.”

          “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. A tear escaped his eye, and she felt it land on her hand. He let out another breathless laugh. “I’d want you for the rest of my life, Zoya.” 

          Something broke inside her chest, and then a tear fell from her eye as well. Her fingers intertwined with his, their hold on each other’s hands tightening as if the other would disappear if they let go. He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A few tears slipped on her hand as he did, but he had a look of contentment on his face, like he finally felt he was home. 

          More tears fell from her eyes as she pressed her forehead back to his. For years, she had let herself believe that she wasn’t worthy of being loved, that she was only made to be a soldier, a weapon to be used by her own country. 

          This is what love does. Zoya had been wrong from the start. Because in the end, Nikolai’s love for her was what made him see past her worst self. Every flaw and every scar, he accepted them wholeheartedly. She didn’t know how he’d come to love her, someone who had avoided any signs of kindness and sincerity he gave her, thinking that it would be used against her later. 

          There was no denying the pain they had caused each other through the years, when their words were too sharp and they wounded their hearts and pride before they could even have the chance to think of it. And yet they always came back to each other, their faith in each other still there if not stronger before. 

          Love was never without pain. It would still be felt over and over again because it was real. 

          And if tearing down the walls she had built around herself and giving her heart away would make her vulnerable to hurting, then perhaps it was something she was willing to do. 

          Because Nikolai Lantsov was worth every pain.

          So Zoya took the leap, drawing him up to her and pressing her mouth to his, and everything felt like it finally clicked into place. He acted immediately, and she could almost feel his smile against her lips. After the long days of wanting, her heart was at peace for once. The Fjerdans could have come back and waged war against them again, but she didn’t care about anything but the warm press of his lips.

          When the need for air became stronger than the need for each other’s lips, Zoya pulled away and rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were still clouded with tears when she finally said, “I love you.”

          To say that Nikolai’s grin was bright would have been an understatement. In the dull colored room they were in, he seemed to be glowing. He let out another breathless laugh. “I never thought I would hear those words come from you,” he said, his eyes alight with utter bliss. “But for what it’s worth” —he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb— “I love you too.”

          Silence fell around them and everything focused on the man in front of Zoya. Perhaps she could stay here in his arms for another while and ignore the looming responsibilities standing right outside the doors. 

          She was his, and he was hers. For now, that was all that mattered. 

          “Is there really nothing that can change your mind?” Nikolai said, breaking the comfortable silence between them, and Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right now.

          “You really had to ruin the atmosphere, didn’t you?” 

          He laughed lightly. “My ruthless Zoya, I am merely joking,” he said, and then his face became serious. For a moment, a small twinge of fear clawed at her heart. “Then what do you think about being a regent? At least until we find someone to rule properly, or until we could transition the monarchy towards something else.” He wrinkled his nose. “I mean, I said I would give you a crown, and this is my last chance to make good on my words even just for a short time. Besides, Regent Nazyalensky does have a nice ring to it.”

          Zoya raised an eyebrow, the idea not occurring to her until now. She furrowed her eyebrows. “You actually suggested something reasonable,” she said, earning a pout from the king. She looked at him with mild concern then, realizing the meaning of having a regent. “Are you really abdicating the throne?” 

          “I’m not joking when I said that the crown was never meant for me, and I think my bloodline really solidified that fact. I realized I was only fighting for this country, not the throne.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if that’s really your decision, I would be with you in every step of the way. But I hope we can stabilize Ravka until we can have a solution to my....sudden resignation.” 

          “What’s your plan if ever that time comes?” Zoya knew she was asking so many questions, but she couldn’t help it. This man continued to surprise her with his declarations and she had no idea what could come next. “Play pirate again?”

          Nikolai scowled at her, and she wanted to laugh at his expression. “Privateer,” he corrected like always. Then he smiled, his eyes suddenly having a faraway look. “For once, I don’t know. But maybe I would play privateer again as I’ve missed the seas terribly.” Then he turned to her, his expression gentle. “If I ask you to come with me as my first mate then, would you agree?”

          Would she? Zoya had never known anything outside her life in Os Alta. For years, it had been a continuous battle for the freedom of the country that took everything from its people, and she had no time to think about her freedom if she ever did retire from being a soldier. 

          But she could already see glimpses of a future ahead, a quiet and easy life, without any fear of having to go back to war. And in those glimpses, she could see him. 

          Zoya huffed, making it sound as disbelieving as possible. But she already knew her answer. “I’d make a horrible first mate as I easily get seasick,” she said. 

          “Ah, but I don’t mind. As long as you’re there with me,” Nikolai said, taking her hands in his again. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “So what do you say, Regent Nazyalensky?”

          The future was something she had no control over, she always knew that. The only way to know what it held was to continue fighting until she reached it, and as long as she had the right person beside her, she knew she would be alright.

          They had always been a team, she and Nikolai, and they would continue to be like that for as long as they lived.

          So without another hint of doubt, Zoya intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. “Alright, dearest privateer,” she said. “Let’s keep this country standing upright until then.”

          And they would. Together.

[beenbaanbuun]

WAYV’s reaction to their S/O having a strong British accent

this is perfect for me bc i have a very strong derbyshire accent (if you don’t know what it sounds like, its such a good accent, i suggest you look it up). also, feel free to request anything at all - lilly

KUN

When you spoke any language other than English, it was pretty hard to tell that you had a strong accent; people often found it difficult to understand you when you spoke with an accent. Kun often walked over to your apartment when he was done with practice, but on this particular day, you were on the phone to your mum back in the UK.

“Nah, I promise, mum, I’m alright. Kun’s taking proper good care of me. I’m perfectly safe here.” Kun had never heard you speak your native language before, but he found it extremely endearing. “Mum, chill for a minute. I’m fine.” He couldn’t help but smile as he tried to work out what you were saying. Your accent was much harder to understand than he thought it would be.

As soon as you hung up and put your phone down, Kun coughed, letting you know of his presence in the room. 

“I couldn’t help but hear your accent. I like it, but I had no clue what you said.”

TEN

When you first met, you both tried to communicate in Korean, but when neither of you were getting very far, he did a bit of digging and realised you were English. That was perfect for him, as it meant you could both talk a lot easier. It was late at night, and you fancied a walk so you called him up and asked him to go with you. Of course he obliged; he was more than happy to go a walk with his baby. When he arrived, he saw you wrapped up in his jumper and thought you were the cutest thing on the planet.

“Hey baby. How are you?” You couldn’t help but notice the language he was speaking in wasn’t Korean, but English instead. You laughed, shocked, but happy at the fact that you didn’t have to butcher Korean anymore.

“Hello, Ten dearest. I see you’re speaking my language.” As soon as your spoke and Ten heard your thick accent, he was shocked, but he was so in love. The way you spoke, and they way your accent was so thick did something to him. He was so glad he made this discovery, and he would never let you speak any language other than English from now on.

“You know what, baby? I think we should go back to the dorms.”

WINWIN

Winwin was so happy you could speak Chinese; after all, he wasn’t fluent in any other language. He did, however, enjoy laying his head on your lap when he was tired and listening to you speaking to him in your native language. The way your voice lulled his to sleep, and your thick accent melted him made his fall deeper for you.

He often lay there staring into your eyes as you spoke to him about what happened in your day in English. He didn’t always understand everything that you were saying, but he always tried his hardest and asked you to repeat anything in Chinese if he didn't understand it.

“And then she just told me that I was the one being rude, after she purposefully spilled coffee on the documents I’d literally just signed. How dare she.” Winwin mumbled something in reply, but you didn’t hear it properly. “Huh? What did you say baby?” You spoke in Chinese so you knew he’d understand.

“I understood about three words that you said. Can you repeat it in Chinese?”

LUCAS

You spoke to him in English 24/7 because he wasn’t the best at Korean, and you weren’t the best at Chinese. Part of you wondered whether he purposefully made his Korean worse when he was around you, just to hear you speak in English. He made no effort to hide the fact that he loved you accent; he screamed every time he heard you speak with your thick accent.

Once, you were at the dorms, talking to Kun in Korean, which obviously made Lucas even more clingy than usual because he wasn’t sure what some of the words meant. He whined every so often, just to get your attention for a split second, but you weren’t going to give in that easy. That was until he wrapped his leg around you, stopping you from moving all together.

“Lucas! Let me talk to Kun for a bit please. I’ll come cuddle in a second, yeah?”He groaned, releasing his leg but refusing to remove his arms from your waist.

“We can cuddle on the bed, but I’m staying where I am.”

XIAOJUN

One of Xiajun’s favourite things about you was your interest in languages, it allowed you to communicate after all. The only thing is you found it incredibly hard to mask your accent when you spoke. It was interesting the say the least, Xiaojun sometimes found it difficult to understand what you were saying, but he appreciated your effort so much.

“Xiaojun, can you come and lie down with me for a while. I’m tired.” Your words were mumbled because you were sleepy, and your accent was strong, but you were still trying. Xiaojun looked down at you from where he stood, his eyes were full of love, but he had to admit, he didn’t understand a word that came out of your mouth.

“Can you repeat that, (Y/N)? I have no idea what you just said” You frowned, jokingly making Xiaojun let out a laugh. He loved you so, so much.

HENDERY

He spoke English with you at every opportunity, even though you were fluent in Mandarin. He loved your accent with a passion, but he tried to keep it secret. Whenever you spoke, he would laugh or coo, teasing you. His favourite would be when you complimented you in English.

You often visited him at the dorms to see him, and whenever you did, he would be so happy. He loved seeing you at every opportunity he could, and joking about your accent. One night, you were sat in the dorms, him listening to you complain about being hungry.

“I swear to god, if the food doesn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes, I will cry.” Hendery let out a loud laugh, causing YangYang and Kun to look at him and shake their heads.

“Baby, I love your accent. Please say something else.”

YangYang

You’d always wanted to learn German, and lucky for you, your boyfriend spoke German. Every time you went to visit him, he would give you a short lesson. He couldn’t lie, you were bad, mainly because of your accent. Normally, he loved to hear it, but when he was speaking to you in German, it frustrated him to hear your accent coming through. 

He never got angry at you though; he was always so gentle when correcting your accent, making you so happy he was your teacher. Your old teacher was very harsh, but not YangYang.

“Hallo, ich bin (Y/N) und...” You stopped speaking, not knowing what comes next. YangYang just smiled at you and took one of your hands in his, giving it a light squeeze. Whenever he did that, you knew you’d got the accent wrong somewhere.

“That was good, baby, you just need to work on the accent a little in a few places. Yours is still coming through.”

[minbirdie]

Hiii! Could you please do 10 and 40 with Chan? Thanks!💗

drabble game: #10 (enemies-to-lovers!au) + #40 (opposites attract) + 90’s radio dj au just bc i felt like it ^^

word count: 2.1k

warnings: strong language

a/n: i’m going to assume u meant bang chan since ur url is skz-themed!! but if i’m wrong i’m sorry :( thank u for being my first request ^^

[radio hearts] | b.ch

chan had always found it incredibly difficult to hold a grudge.

he was raised to never stay angry for too long, to always consider the point of view of other individuals before acting. when someone behaves in a way you don’t understand, his mother once told him, it’s probably because they are hurting. they are human, after all. and chan tried his very best to live by this mindset, always acting as the problem solver whenever tensions rose too high among his friends.

that was, of course, before he met you.

in the eyes of many, you were a background character, a person of few words with even fewer fucks to give. your hair was unkempt, your irises reflecting its wild nature whenever you spoke, and while yes, chan could admit that his tendency to favor dark clothing aligned with yours, that’s where all similarities between the two of you ended. you were untamable, untouchable, yet so indifferent to the world around you that sometimes just the sight of you made chan clench his jaw out of frustration. your attitude, your behavior, even your success—everything about you was an enigma to him.

it all began when you ruined what was going to be one of the best days of chan’s life, though not purposefully. that day, his lifelong dream had finally come true; he had miraculously landed a job at perhaps the most popular station in the area. what he only realized upon seeing you at the mic was that his dream of being a dj required a bit more experience and upward mobility, and unfortunately, chan had started at the bottom of the chain of command. this meant, of course, that chan had a few technical responsibilities but was mostly the errand boy, or your “bitch,” as you had so lovingly deemed his position.

from that day forward, everything about you irritated him. your blunt, sarcastic sense of humor typically struck a nerve, yet in a cruel twist of fate, it was your straightforward personality that made you so unique and popular on the air. you hardly sugar coated anything, and your choices in music reflected your lack of concern for what others may think. in all honesty, chan really couldn’t understand how you became so popular among listeners, since no one hardly gave you any attention in real life. you somehow managed to be both invisible yet successful, a feat that amazed and confused him.

“good morning,” he grumbled as he always did upon entering the recording studio, purposely avoiding eye contact with you. this particular morning, however, his hands were full with drinks from the local cafe. it was his turn to do the daily coffee run, and although he had been working at the station for a few month now and had everyone’s orders memorized as if they were his own, he was struggling to balance everything.

“need a hand?” you asked, but he merely scrunched up his face and shook his head vehemently. nevertheless, you stood up, reaching out to him. “here, let me help—“

“i got it.” he cut you off abruptly, setting the drinks down harshly on the table.

you raised your hands defensively and raised your eyebrows high on your forehead. “damn, okay,” you muttered before snatching your drink off the table and sitting back down in your chair.

typically, chan could hold his tongue. sometimes, however, he let his passive-aggressive tendencies get the better of him, and although occasionally you reciprocated with some harsh banter of your own, normally, you ignored his sour attitude with an ease that only further exasperated him. today appeared to be one of those days where an unspeakable something egged at chan, pecking at him from just underneath the surface of his skin.

“hey bang,” you called out, not even bothering to look up from the track list you were mapping out for your portion of today’s air time. “what do you think should go in this slot here?” you pointed at the list, tapping your pen against the blank space on the paper.

chan leaned back against the door frame, shoved his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans, and inhaled through his teeth. “well, i don’t really think it matters what i suggest. you’re just gonna do whatever you want, so…” he was muttering, almost through a pout, and he made sure to avert his eyes by staring down at his sneakers.

but you had definitely heard him, which was evident by the way you slammed your pen down on the table. “alright, that’s it.” you snapped, swirling around in your chair to stare him directly in the eye. “what’s your problem with me?”

chan swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the stack of cd’s piled up on a shelf beside you. “what do you mean?” he played dumb, hoping that you would drop it and he could somehow avoid getting fired.

he, of course, wasn’t that lucky. “what do i mean?” you repeated incredulously. “i think it’s pretty obvious what i mean.” you let out a shaky breath, and chan’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest as the realization struck him: he had genuinely hurt your feelings. “like, i know i give you shit sometimes, but goddamn, it’s like you hate me or something.” you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your nerves.

he shook his head vehemently, eyes wide and panicked. “no, no. i…i don’t hate you. it’s uhm…well, i just—“ unsatisfied with his stuttering, you stood, slowly making your way toward him. “i…i don’t know.” he admitted with a sigh. he still couldn’t bring himself look at you.

you trapped his body between yours and the door frame, and chan could feel your intense gaze burning a hole in his forehead. “alright then.” you stated simply before reaching out and closing the door behind him. “we’re not leaving until we figure this shit out. because, frankly, i’m tired of it.”

chan knew that he could probably slip out if he wanted to, but the look in your eye advised him against doing so. besides, as much as chan hated confrontation, he understood where your anger was coming from. “you’re right.” he admitted, though he still had trouble looking at your face as you stared at him. “i…owe you an explanation.”

he wet his lips, trying to allow his racing mind some time to think. “ah, how do i say this…?” he was quiet for a moment as he pilfered through the confusing tangle of emotions resting inside his chest. “i guess i’m just…” he drew out the last syllable before landing on the word, “jealous. i’m jealous, i think, because…uhm,” he huffed out a sigh, deciding to rip off the bandage entirely, “because you have the job i want.”

you knitted your eyebrows in confusion as you tilted your head only slightly to the side. “explain,” you muttered, your tone transforming from accusatory to one to something resembling understanding.

chan struggled to translate his feelings into words, especially when you looked at him like that—a soft gleam in your eye, wrinkles barely lining your forehead as you listened intently to whatever he was going to say next. he inhaled through his teeth, almost as if the confession was painful, before simply stating, “you’re…something else.”

at this thought, he couldn’t help but smile, partly because he was remembering with somewhat of a fondness the crazy tangents you would go on sometimes while on the air, the way that you would dance to the music you selected when you thought no one could see, how you always were the first one here in the morning and the last person to leave at night. he also smiled, in part, due to your own reaction to his statement; you tried hard to fight it, but there was a glint in your eye and a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “i’ve wanted…to be a dj since i was eight,” he smiled fondly, remembering the fascination he had with his father’s record collection. “when i first found out that someone could make money by playing their favorite songs, talking about music, stuff like that….wow, i was ecstatic.” he shook his head with a sigh.

“oh,” you replied, your face falling, “i see.” you nodded, looking down at your feet. “i…ruined your dream.” 

chan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes betrayed his feelings. he neither confirmed nor denied your claim, instead continuing on to change the subject. “you’re really good at what you do.” he admits, running a hand through his dark locks in an attempt to steady his breathing. “and i think…i think that’s probably what frustrates me the most.”

you hummed in understanding, and chan noticed that your ears were tinted red with embarrassment. “well, uhm, thanks, i guess…” you mumbled, and chan couldn’t help the chuckle that your reaction pulled from him. “honestly, i’m really shit at what i do.” you smiled at yourself despite the harsh self-criticism. “like, i should probably care more—“

“the thing is,” chan interrupted, though not consciously, “i think you do care. you probably care more than i do. you just…have a funny way of showing it, i think.” your smile was dazzling, chan couldn’t help but think, as your face heated up from the compliments that kept pouring out of his mouth. once he started thinking this way, chan found it difficult to stop. “and your unique personality is really a strength for you, you know? you’re what makes this station, well, popular.” his expression could only be described as one of pure giddiness, absolutely adoring the shyness that his compliments brought out of you—you, the loud, independent, boisterous dj whom he had been secretly, jealously admiring for months.

and he would have said more, continued talking until his face turned blue, had it not been for your lips quickly catching his in a kiss without warning.

it was a short, fleeting kiss, clearly not something that was thought through, yet it perfectly conveyed the sense of something that had been pulsing through chan’s veins ever since he met you. just as he felt himself melting into the warmth and bliss your kiss provided, you pulled away with a gasp, your fingertips ghosting over your lips where chan’s had just been, as if you were shocked by your own actions. chan simply stood with his heart pounding in his ears and disbelief stilling his features.

“oh…oh fuck, i’m sorry,” your voice sounded like it would shatter like glass with the lightest touch as your wild, panicked eyes searched his. the longer chan stared at you, however, the more intensely he felt. your hands were still clutched around his shirt, probably a subconscious action that you would find embarrassing had you been aware of it, but chan didn’t want you to let go.

“don’t be,” he muttered breathlessly before pulling you back in for another deep kiss.

this time, chan could relish in your touch and pinpoint the specific sensations that made his heart beat so loudly he swore you could feel it, too. he cupped your cheeks gently, and he felt your grip on his t-shirt loosen as you relaxed into the kiss. your hands moved to wrap around his waist entirely, pulling him closer to you and causing him to hum against your lips.

he couldn’t stop his racing mind, in all its confusion and bliss, from wondering how you did it, how you acted without overthinking every possible outcome, how you managed to be so reckless with almost everything you did but in the best, most intriguing way possible. in part, he envied you and believed it to be a part of your vitalizing, sometimes infuriating, charm. 

chan pulled away only because he needed to catch his breath, but when he did, your smile made him wish he hadn’t.

now it was you who found it difficult to look into his shimmering eyes, opting instead to gaze down at your fingers as they nervously fiddled with the fabric of chan’s shirt. “you surprised me, bang. i honestly thought you were gonna call me a bitch, or quit, or something.”

chan couldn’t help but chuckle, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. “well, i mean, i have thought about it before.”

“hush. i’m trying to say something,” you laughed, shoving him playfully, and chan’s thumb lightly brushed against your cheekbone. “i…never thought that you would feel that way because, well, you’re so…” you stopped, crunching up your redding face out of pure embarrassment. “god, this is so cheesy…”

chan’s smile was absolutely radiant. “i like cheesy,” he teased.

“please, can we just…?” you inched closer to his face once more, and chan happily obliged to your unstated request, kissing you tenderly.

and even though chan didn’t realize it at first, he really had found his dream job because he got to work side by side with one of the most interesting, unique individuals he had ever known.

[galactic-academia]

Alexithymia

@quentawewe​ asked for #4 "Walk out that door and we’re through" with Sherlock, it was probably in 50 BC and I’m sorry about this, but be sure I did my best, I hope you will enjoy it <3

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sherlock Is a Mess, Sherlock Is Cute, Possessive!Sherlock, Did I Mention The Fluff?

Words: 1970

Summary: When she heard that Y/N was searching for a flat, Mrs. Hudson immediately offered her to come living at the 221b; what Y/N hadn’t expected were for John’s old room to not be ready to welcome her. The fact is... Sherlock doesn’t want her in another bedroom but his...   

Notes: I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Picture is not mine. I hope you will enjoy it <3

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Sherlock (BBC) masterlist

Fresh from the Police Academy, Y/N did know things wouldn’t be easy. She was well aware of the risks of her job, she knew very well she wasn’t a sheriff from the Far-West neither a super-hero, she wasn’t about to forget to call for backup when it was needed, yadda, yadda; the instructor had really well done his job, namely ram those concepts in her head as deeply as he could without using a bludgeon so that the new recruit she was wouldn’t make herself kill as soon as she would put a toe on the field.

But there were two things Y/N’s instructor - as skilful and dedicated as he was - couldn’t have prepare her for: firstly for having to work with a bunch of nutcases led by Sherlock Holmes and, then, for her greatest challenge to be finding a place to sleep which wouldn’t cost twice her pay AND wouldn’t be at three hours away from Scotland Yard.

To be fair, this problem had been quickly solved after she had complained about the four busses and metro she had to take to negotiate the distance between her friend’s couch and her office at the Yard to Mrs. Hudson while she was waiting for the Detective to put on some pants for her to drive him to a new crime scene: a week later, Y/N was moving in Baker Street.

Nobody would be able to guess which of Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock had been the more surprised: Sherlock for Y/N to be willing to move in with him (well, not technically “with him”, but in the same flat, under the same roof, sharing a kitchen, and a living room, and a freaking bathroom... All of those mundane things) and Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock to agree this easily when she had asked his opinion about Y/N becoming his new flatmate. Anyway, Y/N was downstairs with all her belongings and a new problem had raised: with his ongoing case, Sherlock hadn’t had the time to move all the shit he had stored in John’s old bedroom elsewhere... That’s how poor Y/N ended up sleeping on another couch - Sherlock’s this time - surrounded by her boxes.

It hadn’t been a problem, at first, Y/N was well placed to know Justice couldn’t wait and quite happy about the ten little minutes between her new couch and the Yard. Two months later, it had become a problem. Sherlock kept finding all kind of idiotic excuses to NOT vacate Y/N’s room; because, yes, it was Y/N’s room, even if Mrs. Hudson had kindly reduced her rent because of the lack of the bedroom Y/N was paying for. It could have not become a problem, Y/N could have left the flat and almost all of her Sherlockian problems behind her, Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t have hold it against her but... Well... Maybe there had been third things the instructor couldn’t have prepare Y/N for, the third would be the soft feelings the police officer was cultivating towards the detective.

And it was stupid, really, it was very clear Sherlock didn’t want her around since he was stubbornly refusing to let Y/N integrating her new bedroom. But you know what? You don’t become a police officer at Scotland Yard because of your outstanding tastes in donuts. Sherlock didn’t want to share is flat with Y/N but let her believe otherwise and pay for a bedroom she couldn’t sleep in? OK, fine. Very well. He would -  at the very least - be forced to face his own assholery.

This time, when Sherlock went to leave the room, he found himself back to a very pissed off and dishevelled Y/N roaring “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

oOo

When Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard headquarter, it wasn’t exactly for the charming companionship. Well, that was maybe a little too harsh, Georges has a least half of a brain and was always doing his best; but, otherwise, if Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard, it was because he wanted a case. Or for an emergency, just like right now. What an emergency? No idea, but it has to be something quite pressing or the officer Y/L/N wouldn’t have thrown him out of his bed while yelling at him to put on some pants before storming out of his bedroom.

When Sherlock left the flat to climb in the cab waiting for him, Mrs. Hudson’s knowing gaze told him he had been spotted. To be fair, he hadn’t been quite subtle, the fact he had obeyed to the officer Y/L/N - and hurried to do so! - told a great deal about how he felt toward her. And, indeed, the next morning, the landlady had suggested a new flatmate to Sherlock.

Ah! What could have he answered to that? He has a soft spot for the officer Y/L/N, not only because she wasn’t afraid to shake him out of the bed, but also because she listened to him. She wasn’t settling for hearing him in awe, in shock or in disgust like all the others did, no, she listened to him. She genuinely listened to him. He had quickly discovered that fact, which had offset his own awe, shock and disgust towards the... The feelings he couldn’t help but have. He had agreed to share the 221B Baker Street with the officer Y/L/N which had become Y/N.

When she had arrived with all her belongings to move in, Sherlock hadn���t honestly mean for her room to not be set, he would have been ready to swear it and had profusely apologized, he had really been caught in the last case and just never thought about tidying John’s old room at all. The incredulous smile Y/N had thrown him before bursting of laughing and telling him it was ok, she would sleep on the couch, just bolstered Sherlock in his first idea: he had been right to accept Y/N as a new flatmate.

He couldn’t have known that, a few hours later, seeing Y/N quietly asleep on the couch would stir something unknown inside of him, something which demanded him to protect and provide, something which made him sick at the idea of letting her go anywhere, something which couldn’t bear the idea of not enjoying the cute show of Y/N’s slumber every night. No, not even the great Detective Sherlock Holmes would have been able to know about this possessive side of himself as Lavoisier wouldn’t have known about the phenomenon of oxidation before burning some metal.

Sherlock knew his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman and he was secretly praying for his mother never discovering how he had addressed a woman, but it had been stronger than him and, yes, even stronger than the possibility of Mrs. Holmes’ wrath. Sherlock wanted to keep Y/N all for himself and it was already difficult enough to let her go God knows where every morning for the genius to be unwilling to divest himself of the few hours he could spend with her every day. Don’t get him wrong, Sherlock didn’t want to lock Y/N down, he was just... Aaaah! Police officer is a dangerous job and... No, it’s not because she’s a woman, God! He had been raised by Mrs. Holmes, remember? And he lived under Mrs. Hudson’s roof, how could he not know women are as strong as men (and maybe stronger, it wasn’t the point, so he didn’t care)? Don’t be ridiculous... What was his point, again? Ah, yes, the possessive side he had discovered the night Y/N moved in could hardly bear to know her in danger and not being with her to help and protect her (even if she didn’t need to be protect, sometimes it’s nice to be protected, ok? And... Not the freaking point!). Sherlock knew very well his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman, but he couldn’t help himself and kept finding stupid excuse after stupid excuse to not clear Y/N’s room.

But he was starting to run out of ideas, both for postpone household and for good reasons to not feel guilty about the disappointed looks Mrs. Hudson sent him on a daily basis. Y/N had suggested tidying the room herself, she had asked nicely, she had given him the cold shoulder, but nothing had worked, he had kept telling her he would do it. He had even used of his charm on her, playing lively tunes with his violin to make her smile and stop her from being angry at him. It had worked, maybe a little too well because she had started to dance around the living room and Sherlock hadn’t been sure about who was charming who anymore...

Sherlock knew he had to find a solution to keep Y/N around him which didn’t involve her sleeping on the couch, the faster the better, he was thinking very hard about it, his efforts renewed by the twinge in his stomach when he had come across the empty living room, when he entered his bedroom to discover Y/N asleep in his bed. To say he wasn’t expecting that would have been an enormous understatement, but he felt something deep inside him curl in satisfaction. Exactly. Yes, it was the very exact solution to everything. It was absolutely perfect, it was... Too much for him to handle all at once, as wonderful as it was. Sherlock was ready to make a beeline to the bathroom to get a grip on his feelings, the hand on the doorknob when a groan startled him: “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

Crap...

oOo

The week had been a hard one, Y/N was totally exhausted. She extracted herself from her nest of blankets and pillows to face the stunned detective, too tired to be ashamed of the shorts and the baggy t-shirt she was wearing as bed clothes, and, pointing an accusing digit at him, rasped “You have two solutions: either you immediately go clear my bedroom or you tell me you don’t want to live with me already and I’ll be gone in an hour, but I won’t spend the rest of my career sleeping on your couch. And, since you seemed unable to shoulder your responsibilities, I claim your bed as mine until my bedroom is ready. This is non-negotiable.”

And say that Sherlocked was feeling overwhelmed when he had opened his bedroom door... He could accurately perceive the warmth emanating from Y/N’s body and almost feel the softness of her worn-out t-shirt under his fingers. It seemed he wouldn’t have to find a solution himself, afterwards, Y/N had given him one on a silver plate. Listening to his bravery only, Sherlock just rounded the bed, getting rid of his suit jacket and toeing out of his shoes, to creep in the nest of softness and cosiness from the side of the bed Y/N wasn’t occupying. To answer to the silent question Y/N’s wide eyes were asking him, he just said, from his comfortable spot, “Why would I do such stupid things when you’re exactly where I have always wanted you?”

Kneeling on the bed, Y/N throw him a look full of disbelief. “Why... And you couldn’t tell me?” Sherlock answered with the simple, bare honesty only him could exercise “No. If I had been able to voice it, I would certainly never make you sleep on the couch for so long.” Y/N laughed and went back under the blankets, only to find herself immediately wrapped in Sherlock’s embrace. Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.

Alexithymia (n.): the inability to express your feelings.

***

Thanks for reading <3

[lilyswritings]

It’s Cold Outside.

@meteora-fc requested: “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.” with frank castle, bc you write him so well💖

author’s note: so what if i just wanted to write soft domestic drabble where i wake up in an apartment with my favorite mass murderer. let me live. ( no but really i’ve had this request forever and i only just got around to writing it thank you so so much for the request my love!! ) (( i’ve also realized that all my frank imagines either involve coffee or some form of hurt/comfort in his apartment - am i sorry? absolutely not. ))

wordcount: 1,020

Frank Castle x Reader

     It isn’t like you had planned on falling asleep in a supposedly dead vigilante’s apartment – but you’d already been tired by the time you’d gone to his, burnt out from your long shift at the diner, and his unassuming, beat up brown couch (that smelled like him) was just so soft and comfortable. 

     It also didn’t hurt that he’d fallen asleep curled around you, arms protectively encircled around your torso as your breaths fell in sync and you slowly drifted to sleep. 

     When you wake up, it’s to the sound of Frank cursing at the toaster and the smell of strong dark coffee (accompanied by hints of burnt toast) wafting through the tiny apartment. You keep your eyes stubbornly closed, relishing in the moment of tranquility and the domestic environment surrounding you that you almost never get to be a part of.

     If Frank notices that you’re awake, he doesn’t say anything, or he decides to humor you as he lowers himself slowly onto the arm of the couch, his hand coming down to rest gently on your calf. He mutters your name a few times and you crack your eyes open, smiling at the sight of him.

     “I made coffee.” 

     He always knows what to say to get you up.

     Of course, you still make a big show of sitting up and stretching, grumbling about being woken up early, and Frank chuckles - a familiar low rumbling sound - as he leans over to kiss your forehead and place a mug of steaming coffee (just the way you like it) on the table in front of you.

     You wrap your fingers around the thick ceramic U.S. Marine Corps mug, letting the warmth seep into you, as you watch Frank sit down next to you on the sofa. 

     There’s a soft morning glow filtering in through the blinds, casting the run-down apartment and its sleepy inhabitants in bands of pale orange light. His hair is getting longer now, curling at the nape of his neck and over his ears, a stark contrast to his previous military buzzcut. You prefer it vastly, you think, as you reach up and brush the shaggy pieces off his forehead, letting your fingers trail down to trace his growing facial hair.

     “I like it when you grow your hair out.” You mutter through a sleepy smile, and he smirks in return as his hand comes up to rest over yours. 

     “Yeah?” 

     You hum a confirmation, eyes fluttering closed as you rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in the rare tranquility of the moment. One of Frank’s arms drapes itself around you, pulling you close, and you smile to yourself as he leans down to kiss your forehead, his beard tickling your skin.

     You crack your eyes open, looking up into his dark russet eyes as he draws closer to you, peppering tiny kisses down your nose and your cheekbones until he reaches your mouth, finally sealing your lips together.

     You absentmindedly find the solid surface of the coffee table and put your mug down as your eyes flutter closed, and you angle your body to face Frank entirely, both hands coming up to cup his face as he shifts on the sofa-

     An abrupt ringing sound startles you both out of your reverie, and you huff out an angry laugh as Frank groans. You pull your phone out of your pocket, squinting at the harsh light, and sigh dramatically as you turn off the alarm.

     “I have to get to work.” You say, and Frank’s face scrunches into a frown, but his arms retract from where they were wrapped around your torso enough to let you stand up off the sofa.

     You kiss his forehead as you go to get your shoes from near the door, where they were discarded haphazardly yesterday, and crouch to pull them on.

     “How did you get out from behind me on the couch last night? I didn’t notice you leave.” You ask, the question occurring to you suddenly.

     “What can I say? I’m the Punisher.” Frank’s answer comes from your left, and you turn to see him resting on the kitchen counter, facing you.

     “Stealth was never the Punisher’s thing. Maybe Daredevil’s, but definitely not yours.” You retort, grabbing your sweater from the back of the couch and pulling it on. “And besides, Punisher who? You’re Pete Castiglione now.” You tease, turning to find Frank standing next to the door. 

     “Take my coat, it’s cold outside.” He has his long black trench coat in his outstretched hand, and your lips quirk up into an unwitting smile at the giant piece of fabric. 

     “It’s not that cold.” You say, but he keeps the coat outstretched until you give in and take it from him. “Okay, mom.” You mutter under your breath, and he huffs out a laugh as you shrug the item on, rolling the sleeves so you’re not completely engulfed in the fabric.

     Frank leans against the doorframe of the front door, arms folded as you go to leave. He leans down to kiss you, and before you have a chance to pull away and get going, he pulls you into him and deepens the kiss, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your upper lip and chin.

     “Careful, Castiglione, we both have jobs to make it to.” You say, breathless, when you finally pull away, and he breaks out into a full smile, a dazzling sight that challenges the beauty of the morning sun, you think. 

     “Alright, alright. Get goin’.” He opens the door for you, and you press one last (quick) kiss to his lips as you step out into the hall. 

     “I’ll see you tonight?” He half-states, half-asks, and you smirk. 

     “Tonight.” You confirm, and force yourself to walk down the stairs and out the front door of the apartment building before you change your mind and get yourself fired from your job for skipping.

     As the chilled morning air nips at your exposed skin, you smile as you tug the giant black coat tighter to your body, silently thanking Frank for the extra garment.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

taglists ; everything : @magical-fandoms​ marvel : @meteora-fc​ (send me an ask to be added to my tag lists!)

[peterjakes]

‘no one knows the pain’

so bc I’m an impatient bitch and can’t wait until Friday I decided to write a little piece about sander – I’m not even sure how to describe it. But I wanted to write something different from my usual stuff and like everyone else I’m obsessed with these two and just want them to be happy!

enjoy x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748483

Because there is no us

Those 5 heart-breaking words from the love of his life glare right back at him, until the screen turns blank and Sander is faced with his own wretched reflection. The bags under his eyes almost seem to have a life of their own, separate to himself. He hasn’t slept for three days, but it was only now his body had started to react. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too crowded. Too bright. His bed...the bed in this room he’d been given, it wasn’t comfy at all. It felt too small, yet too big. The sheets were itchy against his skin, they looked and smelt clean, but they didn’t feel right. The room was tiny, he felt claustrophobic as if the walls would soon start to move towards each other and he’d been even more trapped.

He was just so tired. He wanted it all to stop. He didn’t want to feel anymore. He was so tired of feeling. So tired.

Since regaining consciousness, his thoughts had just been on Robbe. He still hadn’t put all the pieces of that night back together, not completely. He remembered lying in bed with Robbe, so calm and comfortable in his arms. Then he was by the window, he remembered feeling warm. His skin became less of his own, he wanted to scratch it all away. Out of bed. Then possible hunger. Cold air. Dampness. Darkness. Sirens. Britt’s piercing voice. A soft touch. A distance shout.

But he couldn’t tell what was real. All of these memories, delusions, would crash together as if fighting to who would stay in Sander’s mind. A constant fight, one that Sander was so tired of. A constant cycle.

He unlocks the screen and stares blankly at the message again for a moment before pushing his phone aside and forces himself to stand up beside his bed. His throat feels dry, he needs water or something. Wrapping his fingers around his neck, he squeezes ever so slightly, gulping down. Dying by strangulation. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in that way. Could someone strangle themselves to death? He wasn’t sure he was even strong enough. He felt so weak and tired.

Dying had become something Sander thought about regularly. To die in a moment, a happy moment; wasn’t that the dream? But right now, he wasn’t happy. He’d never been so unhappy in his life. Dying now, that wouldn’t help, would it? Would it be right? To die alone?

He tearfully reaches back for his phone, his hands trembling at the thought of replying to that message. His fingers hover ever so slightly over the keypad, wishing for the words, the right ones, to appear in his mind. He waits and waits. Nothing. Emptiness.

He knows he needs to lie down, try to control himself. The unappealing bed stares up at him, trying to entice him, but he chooses the floor instead, hard and uncomfortable but still a better option. He flinches slightly at the touch of the cold ground and tries to control his breathing, just like his mother taught him. Trying to imagine anything that’ll help, Sander closes his eyes and thinks back to that night, of what he can remember. Straining his brain for any kind of happiness, Sander struggles to breathe, the emptiness pushing down hard. He tries to rid this feeling, sitting up and rubbing his hands against each other. Trying again, he lays down and thinks of Robbe, just Robbe. Those ocean eyes, the little twinkle that made Sander weak at the knees, that adorable giggle he did whenever Sander said something only half amusing, his tenderness whenever he touched Sander, the warmth of his touch, the feel of his small curls between Sander’s fingers.

His heart yearns for Robbe, yearns for his touch, yearns to hear his laugh, hear his soft voice, but in his mind, he knows that he doesn’t deserve him, not after everything he’s done. Robbe needed someone stronger, someone kinder, someone who knew their own mind. Sander didn’t fit the bill. Robbe obviously knew his own worth, and Sander wasn’t worth the trouble. He fucked it all up. The one time and only time, he really needed not to do that.

The guilt seems to be growing inside him. Sander doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bad about an episode. So ashamed. So unhappy. So hopeless. Not only does his heart ache, but his entire body doesn’t even feel like his own. It was becoming too much for Sander. It always became too much. Crawling back onto the bed, he crouches down, pulling his legs towards himself, gripping tightly, and starts yanking at the tugs of hair. It hurts. Sander knows it hurts. But he carries on anyway, wanting to feel more. He needs to. Just something. This goes on for a good 5 minutes until the literal tears in Sander’s eyes pierce his skin, and he comes back to reality. Sander can feel his heart, it beats and beats, physically hurting, just as if it was being shattered into pieces that very moment by every single beat.

He wanted to reach out, reply to Robbe, explain everything. But wouldn’t he just cause more damage? He’d already fucked so much up, in such little time. It had been what, 2 months? He’d felt so much for Robbe in that short amount of time but now it was clear that he just ruined everything. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t try and try for it to just go wrong. Again, and again.

This just proves what Sander always knew, deep down. A burden. That’s all he is, all he’ll ever be. A burden to his tired mother. A burden to angry Britt. A burden to lovely, sweet Robbe. Nothing will ever change that. Maybe it would be better for Sander to stay here, away from anyone else he could ruin.

He should never have hoped. Never have imagined that he could be so happy. Those moments in the hotel, before it all came crashing down, they were too perfect. The calm before the storm.

But can he blame Robbe? Who would want to deal with this kind of Sander? His mother could barely cope. Britt always seemed to despise but relish Sander being something to fix. Robbe knew the truth; something Sander was so scared of, and now he knew he was too good for Sander. Something Sander had always feared.

Alone once again. Always alone. Forever alone. His biggest fears came true.

No one wanted this version of Sander, the real Sander, not even Robbe. No one can help Sander, not even himself. He doesn’t deserve help. He deserves this all. He never deserved someone so true, so kind like Robbe. He was so foolish to think something good could finally happen.

But Robbe was so soft and warm and kind, compared to Britt who was so harsh and angry and loud. The two were such a contrast, and yet it was Britt who forced herself onto Sander, who even now would insist on visiting him. It had been white noise from Robbe until Sander had sent that message over. He tried to keep it light, wanting to check the waters before delving into what happened. Maybe that annoyed Robbe. Maybe he should have been more direct. Robbe couldn’t have been more direct with that message.

Everything seems so dark. The loneliness seems to take over. He can’t feel anything else. It hurt to breath; he feels like he’s suffocating. He just wants it all to stop. Forever. He stays the same for the next two days, not getting much more sleep, he barely eats (the food here is nothing compared to his own cooking) until he sees a notification from Robbe.

I want you!

By this time, he can barely bring himself to move. All of his energy seemed to be used up. He can’t stop looking at the notification. He doesn’t open it, still wary, but reads over the message, unsure if it’s real or not. Of course, it’s real, it has to be real. But why would Robbe do this? Make him feel so empty and worthless, and then turn it around. Why would Robbe want someone like Sander?

[masterofmunson]

Care For You (4)

Slight!Steve x Reader, Billy Hargrove x Reader


Summary: Every time he takes care of her, she runs away  


Warnings: language, angst, reader’s a jerk, reader and billy argue, tommy is a tool


Word Count: 1.5k+


PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 5

Monday arrives and it’s still business as usual. Her and Steve are attached at the hip. She still struggles to stay awake in class and her and Billy act like he hadn’t spent the night on Saturday. They act like the other doesn’t exist—or she does anyway.

She had to remind herself that Billy Hargrove was well… Bill Hargrove. He doesn’t care about her. He only cares about looking good—or bad, depending on how she looked at it. She knew not to take him personally. She cared about Max. That was it.

The two were complete opposites. Yes, she drinks and goes to parties, but she’s not Carol or Tommy. She cared about her grades more than her reputation. She refused to get close to him. It would just lead to disaster.

On the other hand, Billy’s whole perception of her changed. She’s sweet and feisty all at once. She’s selfless and strong. She saw him.

“Can you believe Tony hired them to play the music for the Snow Ball After Party?” Tommy sneered bitterly as they hung out in the cafeteria, watching Y/n and her friends at their lunch table.

“Huh? What’s that? What’re you talking about?” Billy asks.

“The middle school has a dance called the Snow Ball and the high school has an unofficial after party. It’s just an excuse to drink and party. Tony Valentini hosts it every year at his ridiculously big house. He usually hires a DJ but this year he hired them, Y/n and the Playboys. They’re an unofficial band. Play for community functions and write their own shit.”

He nods and takes a bite of his food. “Are they any good?”  

He shrugs. “They’re okay. I think it’s just an excuse for her to flirt with Robbie.”

“Are they together?”

“Nah, she’s just always hangin’ with them and Steve.”

He nods and the bell rings.

When last period rolls around, Billy staunters in fashionably late before taking his seat next to Y/n. She’s writing in a tiny beat up journal. He watches her fondly and peeks at what she’s writing. The words “KING OF MY HEART” are scribbled at the top in her messy cursive and he fights a smile. She looks at him and narrows her eyes at him. She shuts her journal and moves it into her lap.

“What?” she whispers, glancing up at Mrs. Ivanov.

He shrugs. “Nothin’.”

She rolls her eyes and stuffs her journal into her backpack.

The school day ends and Y/n walks out next to Robbie and his twin sister Rebecca. Today was rehearsals for the after party next Friday. As usual, they were in Robbie’s garage.

“Tommy can suck a cucumber,” she spat when she heard about him and his friends complaining about Tony hiring them to play at the party. “We’re going to do great.”

“What do you expect? He’s just bitter that you chose to stay friends with Steve instead of him. You know he’s always had a crush on you,” Rebecca said.

She rolls her eyes and leans against Robbie’s car. “He’s always been a tool, even when we were younger. He’s an asshole and I’m never giving him a chance, especially since he’s a jerk to Steve and Nancy.”

She opens the door to his car and tosses her bag in the back seat. She watches Billy storm off in his Camaro and she rolls her eyes.

When she returns from rehearsals and dinner at Robbie’s house she mutters a tired hello to her family before trudging up the stairs to her room. She grabs a set of pajamas before changing and falling asleep.

She dreams of the lab again. This time, though, she’s defenseless and powerless. This time it’s Steve and the kids.

She’s rooted in place, crying helplessly for the monsters to kill her instead. Screams rip past her throat, calling out their names. Her brother’s lifeless body falls to the ground next to Steve’s.

“Steve! Dylan!” she cries helplessly. Her body shakes as she tries to move over to them. The Demodogs turn and jump on her. Their teeth dig into her skin and screams rip past her throat. She can’t breathe. She’s choking. She’s dying. “El! Dustin!”

“Y/n! Y/n, wake up!” a voice shouts, shaking her awake. She gasps for air and her eyes fly open. She’s shaking and tears stream down her face. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, Y/n. It’s just a dream,” Billy’s voice rings through her ears.

“B-Billy? What’re—what’re you do-ing here?” she rasped.

“Snuck in through your window.”

She lets out a broken cry and her hands shamefully cover her face. Her body shakes and Billy holds her against him. Her sobs are muffled by her hands and Billy hugs her. His hands run down her back. “Do you want to talk about it?” he murmurs against her ear. She shakes her head. Tears slide down her cheeks and her body trembles. “It was just a nightmare. Whatever it was can’t hurt you anymore.”

She shakes her head. “Yes, it can. It already did.”

“What do you mean?”

She lifts her arm up and shows him all the tiny scars littering her skin. He takes her hand in his and laces their fingers together. He holds her hand in his and she relaxes against him, falling asleep.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling a weight on her waist. She groans and opens her eyes. The harsh morning light shines in through her blinds and she blinks to adjust to the sunlight shining through.

She looks down at her waist and finds an arm wrapped around her torso. She turns her head and her eyes widen in complete horror. Billy Hargrove was sleeping in her bed with her tucked into his side. Their legs are a tangled mess and her right hand is tucked in his.

She lets out a surprised squeak and tumbled onto her bedroom floor. Her eyes fly to the clock on the nightstand and it reads 10:45. “Fuck!” she cursed loudly, causing Billy to bolt up in bed.

“Y/n?” his voice is groggy from sleep and he wipes his tired eyes. He watches her run around her room, gathering a fresh change of clothes and her backpack before opening the door and running into the bathroom. She changes in record time and tosses her pajamas into her closet. “Y/n!” he shouts, gaining her attention.

“What?!” she retorts, running a hand through her hair.

“Slow down!”

She glares at him. “We’re late for school, dipshit! God, I’m so dead. My parents are going to kill me!”

He grabs his shoes and stuffs his feet back into them. He runs a hand through his knotty hair before standing up.

“I’m sure they’ll let you sleeping in slide. You’re a good student,” he sighed.

“Not if they find out I was with you! Jesus, I’m so dead.”

He shakes his head. “C’mon then, princess. Let's get you to school.”

She runs down the stairs and opens the garage door, grabbing her bike. She mounts the bike and Billy grabs the handle bars. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Riding my bike to school, duh,” she snapped.

He shakes his head. “No you’re not. You’re coming with me. It’s faster.”

She shakes her head. “No offense, Hargrove, but fuck that. I’m not going to be called your slut again because I’m seen with you. I rather not. Plus, literally everyone I know will murder me if I’m seen with you.”

He scoffs. “Why do you care so much about what other people think of you?” he asked.

“I don’t,” she denies.

“Yes you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with me!”

“Well can you blame me?! You almost killed one of my brother’s best friends and you smashed my best friend’s face because of it. You really think because I let you come into my house when you need to get away from your shitty dad that we’re suddenly friends?!”

“Yes! You wouldn’t let me in if you didn’t think we were friends.”

She laughs bitterly and rolls her eyes at him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Billy. The only reason I let you in was because you said that you had nowhere else to go. I wasn’t going to just let you freeze to death, I like to think I’m a decent human being. I’d do it for anybody. Plus, even if we were friends, we wouldn’t act like the other didn’t exist.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Even for Tommy?” he challenged.

She grits her teeth at him. “Yes, even for Tommy.”

He smirks at her. “I see right through your bullshit. You care about me, just admit it, Y/n. You wouldn’t be getting so angry if you didn’t think what I’m saying is true.”

“Fuck you, Hargrove. You don’t know anything about me and you sure as hell don’t know enough to make assumptions like that,” she snarled, pulling her bike out of his grasp.

“You like me. Just admit it.”

“Why would I admit something that I know isn’t true? I like gum on the bottom of my shoe more than I’ll ever like you. You think that just because I give you refuge away from your piece of shit dad that I’d fall for your bullshit? You really underestimate me, Billy. Stay away from me.”

She kicks her foot against the driveway and bikes off to school, leaving Billy in the dust.

WOOHOO DOUBLE UPDATE BC I WONT BE ABLE TO POST TOMORROW ENJOY FAM

BILLY TAG: @dannystylesmalik @arronity @xsuperwholockaddictx-blog @buchonians @httperrornicole @codewordpigeon @itstheghostgirl @rainbowfez @itsnotiniah @tah0e @ghostkani @romanceapocalyptic @nistaposebno @dvcremontgomery @ssweet-empowerment @emislayyyy74 @mykingdomismyheaven @leavingtonight-1967 @jvsbe @kassidydem @shyriss-23 @richardbemadden @the—gazeboeffect @barbarairene-k @oldwanderingsoul @therebeltype @cnopps3 @not-a-glad-gladiator @paledragonengineer @buckylovelybarnes @alwayscaughtredhanded @daddy-montgomery @selenedarkbloom @tavia0407 @buckysjuicyplums @irishollynatural @artisticlales @sleepy-rad @his-cocaine-heart @theconscientiouswriter @tremilyteapot @c-ly-g @ace-angel-judas @imaginemarvelbae @mysticalavengers @21hamstreet @hailhydrabarnes @fangirlinganditswonders @deadpools-wife

[astrafoundarchive-blog]

                                Keith  has  undiagnosed  BPD  ,   it’s  not  something  he  can     recognise     or  tell  you  he  has  ,   to  him  he  just  has  anger  issues  &   is  bad  at  coping  with  abandonment  .   He’s  not  the  best  at  keeping  it  from  greatly  affecting  him  ,   although  he  does  adopt  a  few  self  care  practices  to  help  ground  &   calm  him  .

                                              I  would  like  to  preface  this  with  credit  to     @lgcykpt     for  not only the  meme  header  but  also  talking  about  her  BPD  experiences  to  help  my  understanding  &   guide  my  own  research  .   I  would  also  like  to  ask  that  if  I  am  offensive  in  my  portrayal  of  this     (  despite  my  best  efforts  not  to  )     to  call  me  out  either  in  my  ask  box  or  IM’s  ,   anywhere  I  can  see  it  &  I’ll  adjust  accordingly  !!

                                First  I’m  going  to  go  into  the  symptoms  he  displays  &  how  they  affect  him  daily  ,   then  i’m  going  to  go  into  what  actually  caused  it’s  development  ,   the  rest  is  under  a  read  more  bc  it  got  Long  .

                                 VERY  EMOTIONAL  -----   This  doesn’t  mean  he  cries  at  the  drop  of  a  hat  or  anything  ,   he  feels  like  anyone  else  does  ,   just  more     intensely    .   If  to  him  ,   a  situation  warrants  anger  ,   he  feels     fury    .    If  it  calls  for  sadness  he  feels  depression  ,  grief  .   Things  hit  him  &   they  hit  him     hard    ,   imagine  feeling  far  more  extremely  than  you  should  &   for  far  longer  until  you  abruptly  switch  to  another  strong  emotion  .     Naturally  this  will  wipe  him  out  &   as  an  introverted  person  he  will  tend  to  withdraw  &   try  to  deal  with  this  on  his  own     (   either  listening  to  his  soft  music  ,   or  training  ,   he  is  tired  but  he  won’t  sleep  ,   this  is  another  headcanon  for  another  day  .   )

                                 EMPATHETIC  -----   Yes  ,   he  is  .   Before  you  try  to  fight  me  on  this  ,   he  is  in  tune  with  other  peoples  emotions  ,   he  picks  up  what  they  are  feeling  without  them  needing  to     tell     him  .   His  problem  is  in  that  he  doesn’t  know  how  to  relay  that  to  them  &   provide  the     support     they  need  .   For  example  ,   in  s4  when  Lance  comes  to  him  basically  saying  he  feels  like  he’s  useless  now  ;   Keith  picks  up  on  it  &   he  understands  ,   he     tries     to  help  ,   but  it  just  doesn’t  come  across  in  a  way  that’s  helpful  .   This  is  something  he  will  learn  in  time  because  he  genuinely  does  care  &   wants  to  help  ,   he  just  doesn’t  know  how  to  comfort  with  words  ,   as     communication     is  a  huge  problem  for  him  .

                                 FEAR  OF  ABANDONMENT  -----   This  isn’t  a  strange  concept  to Keith’s  character  ,   he  has  &   always  will  feel  a  strong  worry  over  being  abandoned  ,   to  the  point  of     creating     that  abandonment  for  himself     (   from  freezing  himself  out  of  the  team  to  join  the  bom  ,   to  avoiding  Lance  &   genuinely  believing  Lance  hated  him  because  they  are  ‘Rivals’   &   taking  the  teasing / rivalry  far  more  seriously  than  intended   )    .   Being  abandoned  by  his  mother  was  the  main  driving  force  behind  the     development     of  his  bpd  .   Then  in  his  later     crucial     years  his  father  left  ,   shiro  &   matt  left     (   imagine  being  told  the  last  people  you  were  close  to  on  this  earth  are  dead  ,   yeah   )     this  all  built  up  to  a  complete  &   utter  weakness  to  the  notion  of  being  abandoned  .    

                                 This  also  plays  into  a  hyper-vigilance  re:     rejection  ;   any  notion  of  someone  not  being  100%  committed  to  a  relationship  or  other  commitment  can  trigger  a  very  strong  emotional  reaction  .   Usually  it’s     anger     because  he  directs  all  negative  emotions  into  that  because  to  him  it’s  slightly  easier  to  understand  &   express     (   he  yells  ,   he  trains  ,   he  hits  things   )    .   This  is  also  a  huge  part  of  his  difficulty  trusting  people  &   skewed  sense  of  self  worth  ,   they  all  tie  into  this  &   are  why  he  keeps  people  at  arms  length  for  far  longer  than  he  logically  needs  to  .

                                 ANGER  &   IRRITABILITY  -----   Another  not  strange  concept   is  Keith’s     anger  issues    .   I’ve  touched  on  this  in  most  of  all  the  other  points  but  anger  is  an  emotion  Keith  can  handle  better  than  others  ,   i’m  not  saying  he’s  levelheaded  about  it  ,   more  the  opposite  .   Keith     understands     anger  ,   it’s  a  simple  emotion  &   one  very  easily     expressed   -----    he’s  angry  ,   he  hits  things  ,   he’s  slightly  less  angry  .   He  will  also  yell  at  people  because  of  the  sheer  strength  to  which  he’s  feeling  these  emotions  .   An  impulsive  guy  to  begin  with  ,   if   you  put  him  in  a     high  pressure     situation     (   even  one  that’s  just  high  pressure  to     him  )     he  can  snap  &   lash  out  with  harsh  ,   loud  words  &   actions  .   He     will     use  his  anger  to  fight  enemies  ,   however  &   say  it  with  me  now  ----------   Keith  .   Is  .   Not  .   Abusive  .     He  has  never  &   will  never  take  his  anger  out  physically  on  someone  he  cares  about  .   Get  that  disgusting  trope / stereotype / bullshit  away  from  me  .

                               IMPULSIVE  &   DISORGANISED  THINKING  -----   He  will  jump  between  doing  x  then  doing  y  without  seemingly  much  thought  at  all  .   This  falls  into  the  black  &  white  /     splitting     way  of  thinking  .   He’s  either     all  or  nothing     ,   he  loves  a  person  or  he  hates  them  ,   he’s  ready  to  fight  or  he  just  doesn’t  care  .   Obviously  because  he’s  ultimately  human  ,   he  doesn’t  do  this  all  the  time  or  to  the  same  degree  with  everything  ,   but  it  happens  .   He  knows  it’s  not  rational  but  at  the  time  it  makes  all  the  sense  in  the  world  ,   so  it’s  hard  to  monitor  .   His  impulsive  &   dangerous  behaviour  is  another  sign  of  bpd  ;   always  being  ready  to  jump  into a  fight  where  the  odds  are  against  him  ,   reckless  &  risky  driving / flying  ,   not  backing  out  of  any  sort  of  challenge  ect.  

WHAT  CAUSED  IT  ?  ---------

                                In  growing  up  Keith  never     learned  to  cope     properly  ,   with  his  mother  leaving  &   then  his  father  .   He  didn’t  have  the  constant  parental  presence  required  to     learn     this  emotional  maturity  &   thus  he’s  stuck  in  a  state  of  impulsiveness  &   very  outward  reactions  to  things  that  don’t  always  warrant  this  .   He  feels  emotions  very  strongly     (  overwhelmingly  so  )     &   has  no  real  healthy  way  ,   besides  his  music  ,   to  dispose  of  it  .   So  he  lashes  out  ,   he  trains  ,   he  takes  his  anger  out  on  whatever  he  can  in  hopes  of  not  taking  it  out  on  anyone  he  cares  about  .   However  the  sadness  ,   the  lack  of  self  importance ,   the     fear     ,   he  sits on  that  ,   he  doesn’t  know  what  to  do  with  it  &   it  shows  .   While  it  wouldn’t  be  able  to  be     diagnosed     before  18  ,   he  has  always  shown  these  symptoms  to  a  point  because  he  is  still  meant  to  be  emotionally  developing  &   also  has  experienced  trauma  from  a  young  age  which  makes  it  all  harder  for  him  to  adjust  to  on his  own  ,   thus  the  development  of  the  disorder  .   

                                 He  has  never  really  had  a     strong  sense  of  self  &    it’s  an  element  that  plays  an  important  role  through  his  entire narrative  .   He’s  always  been  different  &   doesn’t  know  why  until  he  learns  the  origin  of  his  blade  .   This  is  the  beginning  of  his  healing  from  part  of  his  trauma  ,   it’s  a  long  road  &   he  will  never  be  the  Keith  he  would  have  been  if  this  trauma  didn’t  exist  in  his  life  ,   but  he  will  eventually  find  a  place  where  he’s  better  &   more  emotionally  stable  .     Ultimately  what  defines  it  as  bpd  is  that  all  these  symptoms  he  never  really  grows  out  of  due  to  lacking  that  emotional  maturity  he  should  have  learned / been  taught  but  never  did  .  

                                 Side  note  :   His     Galra     temperament  does  play  on  this  &   make  his  experiences  more  extreme  than  they  would  probably  be  if  he  were  fully  human  .    

[justteamavatar]

Talk to me about Korra dealing her trauma post book four and how Asami fits into her long term recovery bc I cannot get enough

Oh man, you’re basically asking me to spill out mysoul. I could go on forever about Korra’s recovery arc as well as Asami in general(hence why it took me FOREVER to respond to this – !!! I’m so sorry @swatztj​ !!!). Let’s see where this goes… (warning - word vomit below)

** * * *

Korra’srecovery arc was one of my favourite about the entireseries. While it’s amazing to know that Korra and Asami are off living happilytogether (korrasami forever

Korrawas first introduced to us as the freaking Avatar, master of all four elements -we had to deal with it. We saw her as a very strong, physical being who mastered her waterbending, earthbending and firebending at a young age. Her demeanor wasbrash, loud, aggressive and direct, used (in many cases) as a tool to hide insecurities.  She was more of a punch first, think later sort of gal andall she ever wanted to be in her life was the Avatar, there was no questionabout it… that was, until the aftermaths of Amon, Unlaq and Zaheertranspired.

*Thoughsince this about Korra’s trauma in Book 4, we will focus more on thepost-Zaheer conflicts*

Korra was kidnapped, chained, poisoned, forced intothe Avatar State, smashed against mountains and stripped of the air within herlungs. She was at her most vulnerable moment and completely out ofcontrol.

Someof us believed that Korra would get right back up after Suyin removed the poisonfrom her system. After all, it didn’t seem to take too long for Korra to spring back into action after briefly losing her bending in addition to her connections with the past Avatars (though,this isn’t to say that she didn’t endure any pain, grief, self-doubt ornegativity during those periods).

However, at the end of Venom of the Red Lotus, we saw Korra as an empty shell – incapacitated,quiet and unresponsive to the outside world. Internally, a whole other battlewas being fought. 

She was told that the airbenders would return to theirnomadic roots while she recuperated. She was told that they would work togetherto end discord and restore peace and balance. The woman who had always dreamedof being the Avatar, master of all four elements and bridge between worlds, wasno longer needed. Her physical power and self-identity was gone.

* * * * *

“I’m trying to understand why this happened to me. But nothing makes any sense. I’m tired Katara. I’m so tired.” ~ Korra (B4:E2)

Inthe beginning events of Book 4, we see Korra detached from her friends andfamily. She could barely sleep or eat and spent much of her wakeful momentsin silence. When see was faced with times of sleep, she would constantly be plaguedwith the intrusive horrors she endured by herself in Book 3. This trauma caused Korra to fall into a depressive state as well as develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and hope faded away from her at every passing second. With the little sliver of willpower she had left,she finally made the decision to visit Katara – the first step needed to beginher recovery arc.

After months of being incapacitated, the stepsneeded to regain mobility took time and patience for Korra. We slowly but surely saw her become more and more active. A quick toe twitch turned into a few walking stepswith Katara’s guidance. While these were fantastic accomplishments for someone wheelchair-bound,things moved a bit too slow for Korra’s tastes. We saw her lashout in anger/disappointment at Katara as well as Tenzin when he visited the compound to see her spar. Though Korra made progress, it doesn’t spark enough hope for someone who had been eager to getout in the real world her entire life.

While she was healing physically, Korra was still faced with phases of “fight, flight or freeze” throughout herrecovery. Certain triggers continued to appear when she began to walk,spar and bend again, which caused flashbacks to flare up at unexpected moments. Herbody would lock up and her mind became fixated on her traumatic past. She stillfelt as though she was being attacked, reliving the effects of the poison andsuffocation over and over again. This caused Korra to hit a wall – she didn’tquite understand why those flashbacks and freeze ups kept happening, but she trulybelieved that she needed to expose herself to action again. Here is whereanother key element to Korra’s recovery arc comes in – exposure.

* * * * *

“The mind canbe a powerful ally or your great enemy.” ~ Katara (B4:E2)

The opening shot of our Avatar in Korra Alone was very indicative of thecondition of her mental state – shattered, distorted, unstable, but notnecessarily unrepairable. After embarking on a voyage to Republic City, we saw another confrontation between Korra and her past trauma; this time in the formof an eerie apparition. She turned away from her destination (Republic City) to walk an anonymouslife in the Earth Kingdom with the hope of reconnecting with herself and her Avatar spirit.

Throughout Korra’s journey, she constantly struggled with hallucinations. Sometimes she visualized Raava – with whom she ran towards - but other times (more often than not) she faced with her own ghostly shadow – with whom shebacked away from. These apparitions only seemed to become stronger whenever Korra fought them. Her “punch first” tactics remained ineffective as herhallucinations constantly countered her with bending and chains. Even when she was in combat with other opponents, they morphed into her ghostlyvisions, forcing her to constantly fight with herself and lose each battle inthe process.

This, understandably, got quiet infuriating. A partof Korra knew that her visions were not real, but she couldn’t escapethem as they seemly controlled every aspect of her day-to-day life. She hadenough, making the decision to finally chase after these phantoms as opposed to fighting them. Little did she know that her decision would lead to the familiar face ofToph Beifong.

* * * * *

“…You need toface your fears. You can’t expect to deal with future enemies if you’re stillfighting the old ones.” ~ Toph(B4:E4)

Unsurprisingly, Toph hadn’t changed one bit. Her demeanourremained direct, harsh, taunting and honest and this seemed to take Korra bysurprise. After all, she was used to being met with looks and words of sympathy(understandably so) after her horrible incident. The bluntness used by our oldmetalbender, while unexpected, was another step that helped Korra towards herrecovery.

Toph was able to quickly realize that Korra was verydetached from the world; instead of looking forward she would always looked back in the past:

“If there’sone thing I learned on the beat, it’s that the names change but the streetstays the same.”

Yes Korra did hold Avatar title, but she was still aperson – a human being who could only accomplish and change so much within herown lifetime. Other Avatar’s would come and go and so would other acts of evil.

What was great about this confrontation was that little spark of defensivenessand enthusiasm we were used to seeing in Korra before the Book 3 finale. Korra knewof and believed in the accomplishments she achieved throughout her life as the Avatar.She challenged Toph on this exchange, but in a less angry and hostile way that we were used to seeing in the first few Books. 

This ultimately led to the two characters sparring,where Korra seemed to be having moments of excitement despite losing the battles. Itwas quite a refreshing site to see, in my opinion.

Not only did Toph confront Korra on these issues,but she also detected small amounts of liquid metal circulating throughout theAvatar’s body. She attempted to rid this metal of her system, but Korra resisted,letting her fears and flashbacks take over again. This would be a task that Korra would have to do on her own; and it is one that she would successfully complete.

Korra used Toph’s advice to metalbend the liquid outof body and release some of those fears that sheheld close, tapping into her Avatar state. Toph was able to ground Korra back to the world again and make her feel more in tune with reality.

While this helped her physically, Korra’sbattle was not over as she experienced yet another hallucination while facingKuvira for the first time. Now, Korra needed to revisit her biggest nightmare of all face-to-face– Zaheer.

** * * *

“That poison should have killed you. But you were able to fight it off.You think your power has limits. I say its limitless.” ~ Zaheer (B4:E9)

Korra’s confrontation with Zaheerimmediately began with an act of determination and fury. She finally stoodbefore the man that traumatized her life and boldly claimed how he held nopower over her anymore. That daring and direct demeanor she showed toZaheer was reminiscent of her persona back in the earlier Books. However, justlike in the past, these defiant acts were used as a way to cover herinsecurities.

Zaheer lunged towards Korra withthe intent of triggering her fears once again. Despite his chained position,Korra backed away in panic and this ultimately broke the belief that seeing him boundwould make her unafraid. Korra was terrified of not only him but of beingperceived as useless and of not being the person she used to be again.

Zaheer challenged these fears andclaimed that neither of them were the same since the events that happened yearsago; he was chained despite learning to fly and she was limitless despiteholding herself down. Korra would never be the same person again as she wouldhave to carry the trauma  with her for the rest of her life. 

However, instead ofassociating said trauma with pain and weakness, she could use it for strength.As Zaheer had said, the liquid metal should have killed Korra, but it didn’t.She was the one that survived despite all odds pointed against her. She had won the battle in the end and he had been the one who lost. The fact that she remained alive points to the ideathat she had no limits.

We have to remember that Korra wasalone in her showdown with Zaheer. None of her friends or family could aid her.Her severed connections to the past Avatars left her alone to fight against Zaheer and the poisonin her most vulnerable state. Korra resisted the poison by resisting theAvatar State for as long as humanly possible. When she could no longer hold offthat particular battle, she fought for her life as well as Raava’s, despite howpainful and agonizing every second of it was. She was truly unstoppable and shehad yet to recognize or consider this amazing feat.

Korra had to accept what happened to her andwhile this meant acknowledging the bad, it also meant acknowledging the good. Insteadof fixating on the moments of suffocation and powerlessness, she had to let the scene play outentirely - focusing on the future and not just the past. The past was not something she could change.

For the first time in nearly threeyears, Korra gained control over her fear. She accepted what happened – the pain,the exhaustion as well as the endurance. She had made it and in the process, connectedback with her spiritual energy.

Korra reached an understanding withher trauma. While her past was not something that she could simply shrug off or ignore,it could be used as a tool of recognition in which Korra could connect withothers at a deeper level. As Toph had said in the swamp:

“Sounds like you’re carrying around your former enemies, the same wayyou’re still carrying around that metal poison. You maybe consider you couldlearn something from them?”

Which can be coupled with Tenzin’s ownwords of:

“It’s true, there will always be new conflicts and enemies to face. Butthe important thing is to learn from yourenemies and better yourself over time, which you have.”

Korra learned from her painful struggles and was able to use new-found knowledge to reach outto others – including her own enemies. She greatly opposed the methods used byKuvira to unite the Earth Kingdom, yet she still related to and understood herat a personal level, even going as far as to risk her own life to save the dictator. She understood Kuvira’s emotions of fear, abandonment, vulnerabilityand lack of control and this level of empathy displayed wasn’t something we saw Korrause towards Amon, Unalaq or Zaheer.

Korra truly found inner peaceonce she found her way out of the dark tunnel. She proved to herself and others that shewas more than just a symbol of physical prowess. She had found inner peace with herself and her trauma, drawing meaning from it which will ultimately help to make her become even stronger in the future.

Korra fought, learned and recoveredfrom some of the darkest moments in her life. She will always carry thescars left behind from the incident that happened in Book 3, but she made herself an even better personby pushing forward instead of holding back. Korra became a beacon of hope forso many of us and remains a character that we will always hold near and dear to ourhearts.

* * * * *

“I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you ever want to talk or… anything.” ~ Asami (B3:E13)

Now, I’ll try to make the Asami part quick becausethis response has gone on for far too long :p.

I think Asami took the role of Korra’s anchor andvoice of reason, even if neither of them fully realized it from the get-go.

Asami bore witness to it all – Korra’s gravelyinjured body smashing into rocks as well as her diminishing hope and sense ofself. She saw her best friend falling deeper and deeper, but if there’s one thing we know about Asami Sato, it’s that she will always have your back.

Asami took on the role of Korra’s caretaker; she helped her dressed, pushed her wheelchair around, made conversation and she presumably helped her bathe, eat and sleep. She was truly there for her despite her other responsibilities of being the CEO of one of the most prestigious companies in the world. Korra was her priority. Heck, the woman was even willing to drop everything and accompany Korra while she recuperated in the Southern Water Tribe.

These feelings of sadness and hopelessness were quite familiar to Asami. We know that she’s had a pretty difficult life from the start - her mother was murdered, her father sided with the equalists, she had to take command of a large company at age 18 and overall, she had a lonely life. Due to these unfortunate events, it was likely that Asami understood Korra and her depressive state at a far deeper level than anyone else who was close with Korra. Asami neither pushed nor prodded and instead gave an open invitation for Korra to talk with her whenever she was ready. 

Korra did end up taking Asami’s offer up as we see her communicate to her via a letter in Korra Alone. Korra opened up quite a bit to her, explaining how hard the past few years had been, how she couldn’t tap into the Avatar State, how she kept having hallucinations and how she feared that she would never fully recover again. There was a reason why Korra contacted Asami and not Mako, Bolin or the others. She knew that Asami would understand her at that vulnerable time and felt comfortable enough to expose a very fragile part of her life. Asami was the rock that Korra could hold onto and I’m sure that she felt some relief and comfort after sending her letter off.

This comfort continued in Remembrances. Korra expressed her same worries again, but Asami’s consistent support, admiration and belief in Korra and her abilities shined through during the exchange.

And finally, we know that what goes around, comes around. After Kuvira’s attack on Republic City, Asami lost her father for good. This time, Korra was the one who took the initiative to provide emotional and physical support for her. She apologized for her three year absence and suggested taking a vacation where the two of them could finally relax and take care of each other without any interruptions (…besides the big rock spirit thing…). 

Korra and Asami had seen each other at some of their darkest moments and while they were strong and developed individually through their past traumas, they would and always will be stronger together and persevere through any obstacle thrown at them.

The. Freaking. End :)

[hopegave]

Okay, so...since every one is sharing their opinion about Luke’s characterization in TLJ, I felt I also I had to share mine since I roleplay, in fact , Luke Skywalker. He’d always been my favorite character since the first time I started watching Star Wars saga. What drew me to him have been many things tbh ( NOT ONLY MARK HAMILL’S BEAUTY LMAO ) his kindness, his innocent naivete, his progression during the movies into a wise loving man. In other words , I always enjoy watching how he grows up as a character. Luke Skywalker is always full of surprises tbh. For real tho, you don’t know what expect from him. He can be ‘ soft ‘ but damn badass too. BUT !!! that isn’t what I wanted to talk about. 

Obviously , there will be TLJ spoilers below so I suggest you to not read if you still have to watch the movie. :)))

At first, I have to say--The last Jedi left me deeply perplexed. Tbh I’m still having conflicted feelings about this movie----mostly is because of Luke’s characterization---- other things too, but I’m not going to focus on these and call the film ugly because overall , apart few things , I really enjoyed the film.

I didn’t even know there was a discourse on Tumblr about the movie tbh, but I kind of figured that out while I was watching the movie because some scenes just---left me confused. LIKE REALLY CONFUSED. Especially some Luke’s scenes at first (  TIDDY MILK , THIS SCENE WILL REMAIN PRINTED IN MY HEAD FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. ) but what left me astonished even when I walked off the cinema have been Luke’s behavior. I KNEW when I was going to watch the movie that Luke had changed MUCH during the years. That I wasn’t going to see the same innocent farmboy he was in the original triology. Like , I sort of expected old grumpy / depressed / Luke lmao, but in some scenes Luke seemed just---kinda...out of character for me. But I kept watching the movie because I felt there must have been a reason if he was behaving like that ? and in fact there was a reason. That vision part left me really angry because I felt as if they were placing ALL the blame on Luke for Kylo Ren’s turn . And Luke ??? attacking a defenseless teenager ?? LUKE SKYWALKER ?? The man who refused to kill Darth Vader ? the man that saw past the darkness around his father’s heart and decided it was worth to bring him back to the light ? that seemed like bullshit to me tbh. The more I think about it the more angry I get because that gives something  to hardcore Kylo stans for shit on Luke and place all the blame on him for Kylo’s actions because the ‘ pOOR BoI HAVE bEEN aBUSED !!!1 ‘

No, Snoke or not Snoke Kylo is responsible for his actions. As Vader is responsible for his wrongs and---even Luke.

FRIENDLY REMINDER that Luke is a human being and HE !! IS !! ALLOWED !!  to commit mistakes !!!

‘ He is pure and would never hurt anyone ! ‘

yes and no.

I do believe that Luke would do ANYTHING when it comes at protecting his loved ones. He is KNOWN for have made harsh decisions ( reckless like his dad before him lmao ) but he would always come back to himself before doing something that goes against his beliefs. Example ; Luke attacking Vader on the death star during the duel in the throne room and ALMOST killing him. But he did? no. He realized what he was about to do and threw away his lightsaber. I do believe the same thing happened with Ben. LUKE NEVER WANTED TO KILL HIS NEPHEW. HE DIDN’T WENT TO BEN FOR KILL HIM IN HIS SLEEP AS MANY PEOPLE ON THIS HELLSITE SAY. Luke went there for TALK to him, but he found Ben asleep. Now I don’t remember what they said in that scene very well but Luke felt the the darkness had already taken over his nephew and decided to look into his heart for see if what he felt was right. Whatever thing laughed at his face ( I do think that it’s been Snoke to plan everything tbh though it’s pretty much canon I think ? ) scared him because he saw the death of so many people and the destruction of the temple , and made him raise his lightsaber BUT NOT, FOR STRIKE BEN. I do think he raised his lightsaber during that vision for strike at whatever thing was inside Ben’s head at the moment ( SNOKEEE E E  ) . But after he realized  what he was about to do and that in front of him there was BEN , not that creature , he felt an immense guilt and shame of himself that tbh changed him forever tbh. That’s my theory tbh the books will explain more about that scene. But if the creators have in mind to make Luke seem evil during that scene then fuck off I will go down with my theory forever :))) that is about Luke raising his lightsaber. That’s the only theory I will accept because I HIGHLY refuse to believe he raised his lightsaber for kill Ben. That’s not Luke. The Luke I saw in TLJ left me much perplexed because he was just so much apathetic you know ? like as if he’d lost interest in everything after that night and retired on that island for die. WHICH HAPPENED AND IM STILL NOT OVER THAT. I knew they were going to kill off Luke at some point during these movies but IT  WAS JUST SO SOON. But they couldn’t sadly make him live forever and tbh I would rather prefer Luke dead being a force ghost and living happily with Han , Anakin and Padmé , rather than have a Luke who is full of remorse and hates himself that much to retire on a island for isolate himself for the rest of his life.

Depression can do shit, people. Depression can change people. Luke is a character that has a soft heart and feels very much strong emotions so no , I’m not angry for depressed! Luke.

He just doesn’t think himself as a myth anymore. People believe he’s a sort of ‘ god ‘ but instead he only thinks himself as a failure and this hurts me so much because Luke’s just so broken during TLJ . It looks like he’s about to cry during that scene where Rey tells him she hasn’t intention to fail him as Ben did. Luke has lost faith in himself and in the people.  He isn’t an  innocent farmboy anymore, he has TRULY grown during the years and learned to see the galaxy the way it really is. But there is still hope. And he died giving Hope. He will always be a hero.

Okay, so. At first I wanted to keep this more short as possible but I lose my mind when talking about Luke because I just??love?? him so much ?? and tbh I wanted to find a way for not hate his character in TLJ because I haven’t only liked the movie, but also Mark Hamill’s performance in it. THAT MAN ALWAYS GET ME LMAO.

Said that, that is the only way I will accept Luke’s behavior in TLJ. He is a human being and he’s allowed to make mistakes. He is allowed to feel emotions and most importantly he is still a damn.badass.hero. AND HE DIDN’T WENT THERE FOR KILL BEN, SO IF YOU THINK HE DID UNFOLLOW ME IMMEDIATELY BC I WILL NOT ACCEPT SUCH SHIT.

But if disney wants to make appear Luke as a evil man and Ben as a ‘victim ‘ of his family, then I’m totally going to ignore canon and pretend as the new canon doesnt exsist and tbh jump back definitely into my good old EU legends.

I’m going to be slighlty canon divergent on his blog, meaning that for the moment I don’t agree on a few things of Luke’s story but I recognize other things about his arc too. That goes when interacting with sequel! era characters tbh or when using that verse for do things. Just wanted to tell ya’all my point of view so hopefully people doesn’t think Luke as a bad character or as the full cause for Ben Solo’s turn. Because I believe with all my heart he isn’t. 

I’m going to RP Luke as a broken man that has lost hope in himself. A man that is just tired of fighting and just wants all of that darkness to end.That until Rey comes on the island ( Ya all think I’m over Reysky ? lMAO I DONT BELIEVE KYLO AT ALL THO ) and brings a flicker of hope in him. I’m going to Rp Luke, as the hero he is and will always be, and that would never dare to hurt the ones he loves.

PEACE AND LOVE THO