#but i felt like sharing because i know there's good and concerned people who follow me here and i both appreciate and miss you all

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Also I quit my job of what would in about a month or two have been 10 years, and perhaps now I will get to actually be a human being again.

[nicosraf]

Wait what did Freydis Moon do? :( I've read their books and really liked them, but I don't follow them anywhere online, so that last ask you got worried me

Freydis Moon has been exposed to be Taylor Barton, a white person from the state of Oregon, someone who had a history of faking their race, being racist, and general abusive behavior. You can read more here about this Taylor person here, and you can find an incredibly long thread here.

Freydis was a colleague of mine, and they took me under their wing when I entered the indie book scene. They presented themselves as a Latine, mystic, queer trans author — who was older than me, I should add — so I deeply admired them and confided in them. I don't think ABM would have ever gotten much attention if I hadn't received their guidance.

There had been some whispers that Freydis was really Taylor, but I'd seen Frey's seemingly darker-skinned hands and heard their real name, which was supposedly Daniela.

Two things I should say before the big reveal: Freydis briefly hired a publicist named Cordi, who was also an agent with their own agency, named The Lynne Agency. Cordi, very randomly, decided to leave the industry and left their clients, and Freydis, hanging. Someone else to mention is Saint Harlow, an author of gay, cannibal erotica. On twitter, Saint was known for peddling a lot of drama — sometimes, he was on the good side of things and sometimes the bad, but he tended to be a massive bully. Freydis allegedly comforted some of Saint's victims.

And the reveal:

Freydis is the race faker Taylor Barton. The evidence is substantial, but most notably, some of the files they shared with other authors, including me, had metadata with the names of Taylor Barton's other identities. I was able to check the files myself to confirm.

They were also Saint Harlow. Meaning Freydis was bullying people secretly on one account and comforting them on another. And the bullying was a lot more disgusting than you might think, but for the sake of the victim, I won't share details.

They were also the publicist/agent Cordi. Why did they pretend to be an agent at all? I'm not sure but they wasted a lot of authors' times, that's for sure. Were they just looking to plagiarize off manuscripts sent to them? Who knows. (A friend of mine who sent their manuscript to them fears so).

There were a lot of interactions between Taylor and I that are much much weirder in retrospect. They critiqued the industry use of #ownvoices, which I agreed about, but blew the issue out of proportion, like thinking #ownvoices gay-trans author book lists shouldn't exist because of potential outing, mlm books by mlm authors lists shouldn't exist because of potential outing, and that lists of books by people of color about people of color also shouldn't exist because... potential outing? Taylor was, to me, oddly sympathetic toward certain authors accused of racism and shot down my concerns of a certain book with what I felt to be pro-colonizer themes inconsistently — their response to racism seemed to depend on whether they already disliked a person or not.

I could say a lot more but as someone who spoke to Taylor in private at times, there were a lot of things I was unsure about even when I was on their side of things. To some people, apparently, Freydis had said they were part Mexican, but only ever told me they were Peruvian (they might've known I'd clock them as a faker). Regardless, when this all came to light, their response was shockingly dismissive.

This may be more info than you asked for but TLDR:

Freydis Moon faked their race and ethnicity, bullied and manipulated many readers and authors using various fake identities, took advantage of latine author resources, and so on.

[lemmetreatya]

this was very clearly his side job.

club bouncer!sukuna is well aware he didn’t have to commit fully to it, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pompous power that the job brought him.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t believe he has favourites. every club had their fair share of sleazy gropers and pumping loud music. but he definitely looked forward to working at a certain club in particular — spice’s munchkins.

staffed majority of woman (bar the owner, kiyotaka ijichi himself) who were few of the most likeable people he knew, club bouncer!sukuna felt a tendency to look out for them more than he did the customers. because he’s not gonna lie, they were all stunnas in their own right. glamorous — with hairstyles that suited their features and outfits that accentuated their curvaceous bodies. it was sadly often that people would try to treat them like pushovers or start unnecessary trouble, but club bouncer!sukuna made it his mission to protect them. especially you.

“you good?!” you shout over the music towards club bouncer!sukuna as you clean up your work station.

the bar area isn’t too busy concerning the ‘entry before 12am = free drinks’ is over and most people are on the dance floor, and so club bouncer!sukuna takes the chance to lean onto the bar counter, his eyes freely dancing over the top half of your figure.

“a martini pornstar if you dont mind.”

with a roll of your eyes, you scoff in his direction albeit your smile is light.

“boy, you know i’m not allowed to pull those typa favours. Iji’s already warned me twice.”

“yeah, but i’m your favourite. you’ll let me slide, wont you?”

the two of you hold each other’s eye contact for a brief second. you’re sure you encounter something deeper, something more carnal than just a casual stare, but you easily relent and look away first.

“fine! but at least pay for one through the employee discount. i’m really not tryna lose my job.”

club bouncer!sukuna has his eyes linger on you a bit longer before he agrees with a grunt.

you quickly set the card machine up so that he can pay for his drink but then you move to the otherside of the bar to start making his drink.

however, halfway through you accidentally dropped the lick of dark red de kuyper onto your shirt, the sticky substance automatically seeping through. with a curse under your breath, you suddenly rush towards the toilets behind the bar.

seeing you randomly boister off, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t think about why — he automatically follows you through behind the bar area, thinking something was dearly wrong.

“everything okay?!” club bouncer!sukuna’s voice is gravel as he speaks upon pushing the door open, but he doesn’t expect to see you with your shirt mildly wet with the buttons popped and your bra on display. instantly he backs up.

“oh, shit. my bad.” he gruffly mumbles but you stop him before he’s able to leave.

“no, it’s fine. you’re fine.”

you move around the man to pull him back into the staff bathroom before shutting the door behind him and for a second, club bouncer!sukuna feels his dick jump in excitement.

“fuck…” he breathes once you let go of him. you back up so that you can stand against the sink with your spine against the cold porcelain.

“what?” your lips look like glass beneath the toilet’s neon lights and club bouncer!sukuna is just dying for a taste.

“i know you feel that.”

“feel what?” you ask up at him with wide inquisitive eyes.

club bouncer!sukuna’s hands start to flex by his side as he feels his inner demons become stirred. he can hear his walkie talkie click for his presence but he dutifully ignores it because surely there was something deeper to your actions yet all you do is act clueless.

taking a step closer in your direction, club bouncer!sukuna bares his teeth as his lips curl upwards. yet his large hands quickly find solace atop your waist.

“don’t make me sound it out, woman. this. this thing between us.”

“what, you think i got the hots for you?” you say, despite you allowing club bouncer!sukuna‘s hands to knead your skin whilst you lay your hands over his chest.

“i know you do.” he snides, but then he’s pressing his tenting crotch against your thigh. “luckily, i feel the same way.”

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t mind that you offer to suck him off because he’s singing low moans into the echoing bathroom once you do, his hands on your cheeks as he pretty much fucks your face.

but then he remembers that hes determined to treat you and so he finds obligation in eating you out against the wall as you stretch one of your legs wide open. messy juice stains his mouth but now its your turn to tug at club bouncer!sukuna‘s hair as you caused you to writhe and buck your hips into his mouth.

but because he’s a menace, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t let you dip after he’s made you cum twice. no, club bouncer!sukuna is fucking your sweet cunt whilst cursing every profanity he knows because you’re exactly what he needs and wants to willingly. and his walkie talkie is now requesting the both of you, unsure of where you were.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t usually stay close to quick fucks — hasnt really got the heart to face them — but it’s something about you that makes him do something stupid, something so intimate.

whilst he’s zipping his trousers up and youre drying her blouse in the hand druer, club bouncer!sukuna groans.

“uhh…fuck. i dunno, man but…” club bouncer!sukuna kisses his teeth before nodding his head towards the door. “there’s a 24 hour food stop just up this street. you wanna grab somethin’ with me after our shifts?”

your eyes widen for a second but not for long. giggling with the man, you sweetly nod.

“sure. thought you’d never ask.” you say with a sigh of relief.

[outsideratheart]

Be Still With Me (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: I think we are feeling a little heartbroken today. 

You watched as it happened from your sofa in Barcelona with your two England team mates beside you. The way you saw it pop when they showed the replay left you dreading what was to come because it was clear that Leah had tore her ACL. Sure it could have been a twist or a dislocation but your gut went to the worse scenario and you knew it was right.

If you weren’t already booked on a plane to London the following day you would have booked a flight there and then. Leah wasn’t just a team mate or your co captain, she was your best friend and the love of your life. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to be by her side so you can tell her that everything will be ok even though her Champions League and World Cup dreams were over.

After your match day -1 training at Stamford bridge the statement was released, you of course were already aware of the results of Leah’s scans as she called you the moment she had them. You did your duty, completed the training and the press conference but as soon as you were done you left your team to be by Leah’s side. As the team captain and fellow victim of an ACL tear Alexia didn’t argue, in fact she encouraged it stating that she knew Leah would need you now more than ever.

The drive to the house you shared whenever you were home was long and silent. Your mind was trying and failing to come up with words that could comfort Leah. You had been in contact with her mum who told you that her daughter wanted to be left alone so nobody but her would be home when you arrive. There was an eerie atmosphere when you walked through the door but nothing brought more concern than the sight of your girlfriend. Leah laid on the Sofa, her leg elevated and tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh sweet one” it might have been as much your home as it was hers but to you gave her space so you stand in the doorway that connected the hall to the living room.

“It’s over” a defeated expression is etched on her face and you couldn’t blame her.

The only thing you could do is hold her and that’s what you did. You let her cry into the crook of your neck whilst stroking her hair in a gentle motion hoping it would bring her comfort like it had in the past. 

“Why is this happening to me? It feels like I’ve just come back” Leah hated being on the sidelines. Her ankle injury was her biggest challenge so far because it limited what she could do, it wasn’t like how she pulled her hamstring the season prior. 

“I can’t answer that. The world is cruel sometimes and bad things happen to good people” you felt helpless. The woman in your arms craved reassurance but you didn’t know how to give it to her. 

“We had plans this summer and now I’m going to miss it” 

You and Leah lead the team to the Euros final and you planned on doing the same in the World Cup. Strategies had already been talked about and after the loss against Australia, you and Leah wanted it more than ever. You didn’t want to feel like that again and you both found comfort afterwards in knowing that you always had each other, in the good times and bad but now Leah wouldn’t be by your side for one of the biggest tournaments of your career.

“That’s not important right now Leah—“

“The world cup isn’t important? You of all people can’t tell me that. You get to go and you get to—”

Leah was venting her frustrations and you were her target but you wouldn’t let her push you away, not now, not ever.

“It’s not the most important thing right now, you are” 

Her eyes softened as you spoke. There is a reason why you are her person and it’s because you stay by her side and alway have her back, you love her with every fibre of your being and she feels it with her word you say and every kiss you share.

“Will you stay for my surgery?” 

“I don’t know if I can stay but I can come back. Just tell me when and where, I’ll be there” 

The distance between London and Barcelona had never been an issue before. You would go back to you home country when possible and Leah took any chance she had to visit you and spend some time in the Spanish sun. Now though the distance felt twice as far and you hadn’t even left yet. The next 7 weeks would be tough but you’d find a way to be there for her even if you were 707 miles away.

“Will the team be ok with it?” The last thing Leah want to do is cause any issues between you and your club.

“I don’t care if they do. I’ll go to training, games and any other team commitments. What I do in my spare time is none of their business”

You could see the sun begin to set; a pink tint covered the once blue sky. Time was ticking down but you didn’t want to leave and it wasn’t as if that was an option at the minute. Leah had fallen asleep after the two of you discussed her surgery and recovery which lead to her crying once again.

She looked so peaceful as you watched her chest rise and fail was every even breathe but you knew once she woke up the restlessness and worry would return. You wanted to protect her from the world, she didn’t deserve the pain she was going through.

“I wish I could take your pain away. I wish it was me and not you” You couldn’t imagine not being able to play football for a long period of time having never has a serious injury you career but seeing Leah so broken, you would happily take her place.

“Don’t say that” Clearly Leah wasn’t in as deep of a sleep as you thought “There has been enough of these injuries, we don’t need anymore”

She was right. There has been 110 ACL injuries in the last year and a half within the women’s game. The anger and frustration that each of these player felt were valid and you hoped that the issue at hand would be looked into.

“But it’s true” you wanted Leah to know that you would rather be in her position because her health came before yours.

“It’s a stupid thing to say. Can we talk about something else? No more injury talk” you quietly hum in agreement “How long till you have to go back to the hotel?”

You look at our watch. Technically you were already late but Alexia said she would cover for you which you were grateful for.

“Not for a few hours. Do you want to watch a movie?” Leah nods her head “Mamma Mia?” Your question earns another nod, of course it did, it was one of her feel good films.

You put the film on and felt comfort almost immediately. The way you both sing along to your favourite songs lets you forget about her injury, the night is just another sing along in the Williamson Y/L/N household. 

A couple of hours later the film ends and you know that it is time for you to leave even though no part of you wants to do so. It’s as if you inner thoughts are being said out loud because you feel Leah tap your chest. The action normally comes when the two of you have spent the night on the sofa and it’s time for you to go to bed but the intention is different this time, the two of you know it.

“I don’t want to” you pout.

“You have to. You have a job to do tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me”

“I love you, you know that right?” 

“Of course I do now go before I the Barcelona team come knocking”

You hesitantly get up, taking your time not wanting the night to end. Much to your surprise and dismay, Leah holds her hands out and you carefully help her up. The blonde’s arms wrap around you neck once she is on her feet.

The way she looked you caused you to fall in love with her all over again. You would never be able to put into words the power her gaze had. 

“Win tomorrow and maybe even score a goal for me?” 

“Oh please, the blues don’t stand a chance. Not when I want to put on a show for my girl”

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 31: JUST DINNER

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

The following morning…

You woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like a desert. The sunlight filtering through the window taunted you as you groaned and rolled over in bed.

Suddenly, your best friend Emma burst into the room, armed with a bottle of water and a pack of aspirin. She wore a disapproving expression, which only intensified as she took in the state of your dishevelled appearance.

"Good morning, sunshine," Emma chirped sarcastically, plopping down on the edge of your bed. "Care to explain why you look like you've been hit by a bus?"

Groaning, you sat up and accepted the water and aspirin gratefully. "Last night was... rough," you admitted, wincing as you swallowed the pills. "I may have made a questionable decision while celebrating the opening of my show with the other dancers."

Emma raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Do tell," she urged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What did you do this time?"

You sighed heavily, feeling a mixture of regret and slight embarrassment. " Cillian texted me after the show” you began, and Emma sighed, a look of distaste crossing her face.

"And, guess who I drunkenly agreed to go on a date with last night?" you asked, being a rhetorical question of course.

Emma's eyes widened in disbelief. "No! You didn't," she exclaimed, shaking her head in disapproval. "After everything he put you through?"

Shrugging, you felt a mix of defiance and curiosity. "I don't know, Em. I am so stupid, although, it's just dinner. What harm could it do?" you tried to justify your decision.

Emma leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Harm? Are you kidding me? This is Cillian Murphy we are talking about! The guy who dumped you because you were too young for him and then slept with his assistant."

You winced at the reminder but refused to back down. "I know, I know. But people change, right? Maybe he's had a change of heart, or maybe he just wants to apologise. Either way, I'll be fine. I can’t back out now."

Emma narrowed her eyes at you. "You're playing with fire, my friend. But if you're dead-set on going, at least promise me you'll keep your guard up. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

You gave her a grateful smile, touched by her concern. "Thanks, Em. I promise I'll be careful. And hey, it might even turn out to be a disaster that we can laugh about later."

Emma sighed, clearly not convinced. "I hope you're right. Now, tell me more about your show and the drunken shenanigans you got up to with your fellow dancers last night."

Changing the subject, you eagerly shared stories of the wild night at the club, the crazy dance routines, and the embarrassing karaoke session that had you all in stitches.

Emma laughed, her worry momentarily forgotten. "Sounds like you had a proper blast! Just make sure you don't let Cillian back into your life too easily. Remember, you deserve better."

Nodding in agreement, you finished your water and started getting ready for the day. "Trust me, Em. I won't let him walk all over me again. It’s just dinner and I don’t actually want him back. I just want closure” you told her and, as you tidied up your apartment, Emma hovered by your side, occasionally giving you sceptical glances. "I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered under her breath.

You shot her a confident smile. "Cillian is in the past. I promise” you said and, with that, the two of you left your apartment, ready to face the day and whatever unexpected twists and turns the evening's dinner date with Cillian had in store for you.

Little did you know, this dinner would be anything but ordinary, bringing surprises, drama, and perhaps even a chance at closure or something more.

Later that night…

You met Cillian at the restaurant he chose, a small and cozy place tucked away in the heart of Dublin and, as you arrived, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. The elegant ambiance of the place matched perfectly with the melancholic tone of the situation. As you looked around, you couldn't help but notice the flickering candlelight on the tables, casting a romantic glow across the room.

The soft melody of a piano playing in the background filled the air, adding an extra layer of emotion to the evening. Taking a deep breath, you patiently waited for Cillian to arrive, hoping that this dinner would not bee too awkward.

Finally, Cillian strolled in, his familiar tall figure catching your eye instantly. He wore a dark shirt that accentuated his sharp features while his piercing blue eyes made your heart skip a beat. With a small smile, you stood up to greet him.

"Hey," Cillian said softly, his voice filled with a lingering pain. "You look stunning, as always."

"Thank you," you replied shyly, feeling a hint of blush creeping onto your cheeks. "You don't look too bad yourself."

Both of you sat down at the table, the atmosphere suddenly becoming a mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. As you picked up the drinks menu, you tried to break the ice with some small talk. "So, how have you been?"

Cillian sighed and ran a hand through his stylishly dishevelled hair. “I have been okay, how about you?” he asked reluctantly and you nodded.

“I have been good,” you told him and after exchanging pleasantries and settling down, you engaged in small talk, the tension between you slowly dissipating. Cillian still had that witty sense of humour that had initially drawn you to him, and his laugh was music to your ears.

The conversation flowed effortlessly as if no time had passed since the breakup. It felt like slipping on a comfortable pair of shoes, ones that make you feel fabulous even if they're a little worn out.

The waiter approached, interrupting your conversation with his eager presence. He took your drinks order and handed both of you food menus, and you glanced at Cillian, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

Choosing to break the silence, you cleared your throat and ventured, "So, what made you choose this place, Cil?”

Cillian's eyes sparkled, a playful glint in them that made your heart race. "Well, I heard their food is pretty good. They have your favourite too, I checked” Cillian told you, pointing to the Seafood Marina on page two of the menu.

“You remember my favourite pasta?” you asked surprised and he nodded almost shyly.

“Of course, I do,” Cillian told you just before a bottle of Bordeaux arrived at the table and the waiter poured a glass for each of you.

The conversation continued about food continued and then other stories and anecdotes flew between you like a dance. The chemistry was undeniable, and yet, there was also a hint of sadness overshadowing it all.

As the evening progressed, you couldn't help but notice the wistful glances Cillian would occasionally throw your way. It was almost as if he was holding back something important.

"Cillian," you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper, "why did you ask me here, after three months?” you wanted to know and Cillian sighed, his gaze drifting away for a moment before meeting yours once more.

He then reached for your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Because I've missed this," he whispered. “I missed you, Y/N” he told you as his fingers were brushing against yours.

Uncomfortable with public displays of affection, you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he didn't take it the wrong way. "Sorry, Cil, but let's keep it low-key," you murmured, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian nodded, his expression understanding. "Of course, love. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he apologised, his eyes filled with genuine remorse. You couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope inside you, wondering if maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Cil, there's something I should tell you," you began, your voice wavering slightly. "I went on a few dates with someone else recently."

His eyebrows furrowed, surprise evident on his face. "I see... So, you've moved on?" he asked cautiously, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

You shook your head, wanting to make things clear. "No, not exactly. I've been trying to move on, but I can't deny that it's been difficult," you confessed, your voice tinged with sadness. "Especially because every time I see this huge scar on my stomach now, it just reminds me of the better times we had before, you know…” you were unable to complete the sentence.

Cillian's eyes softened with empathy, his gaze lingering on you. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmured softly, his hand instinctively reaching out again and gently brushing against yours again in a tender gesture of comfort. "I can't imagine how much pain you've been through."

Your heart swelled with emotions you hadn't realised were still there. "Thank you, Cil. It means a lot to hear you say that," you whispered, a single tear escaping your eye before you quickly wiped it away.

But there was a weight on your heart that you couldn't ignore any longer. Taking a deep breath, you looked directly into Cillian's eyes. "You know, I wondered if you had moved on too, with Kit," you admitted, your voice steady but filled with vulnerability. “There have been a few rumours in the paper again lately,” you pointed out, causing Cillian to shake his head reluctantly. The papers had been recycling old content with new photos. It was nothing new but, after all, she still worked for him so the rumours were still there.

Cillian's gaze faltered for a moment before he met your eyes again. "Sleeping with Kit was a mistake, and I immediately regretted it,” he admitted before telling you that there was nothing more between them.

“Yeah, right after you dumped me,” you said as anger boiled inside you, but you managed to keep your composure. "I can't deny that it hurt, knowing that you fucked her right after you broke up with me," you replied, your voice shaking slightly.

Cillian reached across the table, hesitating for a moment before his hand found yours again. "I was lost, confused, and hurting after our breakup," he explained, his voice filled with sincerity. "And in my misguided attempt to numb the pain, I made a terrible decision."

You listened attentively, your heart torn between forgiveness and a desire for closure. "I appreciate that, Cil," you replied, your tone softer now. "But I can’t forget about it” you explained before telling Cillian that what you were after was closure

“Closure?” he asked, saddened and confused as the air around you seemed to shift.

“Yes, closure,” you told him as you realised that even though the pain still lingered, the possibility of healing and moving forward was within reach. And so, beneath the soft glow of the restaurant's ambient lighting, you and Cillian embarked on a difficult but necessary conversation.  

“Y/N, I can’t give you closure because I still love you,” Cillian said almost desperately and a little too loudly for your liking. His words hung in the air, his confession hitting you like a wave. Your heart raced, unsure of how to process this new information. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give in to the love that still lingered between you. But another part of you hesitated, still wounded by the pain of his betrayal.

“Do you not still have feelings for me?” he then wanted to know and this was difficult question for you to answer.

“Of course I do. I love you too, but the pain you caused runs deep, and I'm scared to open myself up to that vulnerability again," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I understand," he said softly. "But just, maybe, allow me to try to make you change your mind Y/N. I fucking need you,” Cillian then told you and silence settled between you as you both absorbed the weight of your words. The restaurant around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a world of complicated emotions and unresolved feelings.

"I need time," you finally spoke, your voice firm but tinged with sadness and Cillian nodded once again, his hand reaching for yours.

"I'll give you all the time you need," he promised. “Just let me take you on a few dates, nothing serious, just us hanging out as friends and we can re-evaluate whenever you are ready. I am begging you,” Cillian asked and you took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and hope.

"Okay, but I'm not promising anything, Cillian," you said honestly and a small smile tugged at the corners of Cillian's lips as he squeezed your hand gently. "That's all I can ask for," he replied and so, the evening continued, filled with bittersweet moments and a shared understanding that the path towards healing and forgiveness would not be easy.

You spent at least two hours at the restaurant, sharing memories, small talk as well as painful regrets and, when you saw that your bottle of wine was empty, you decided that it was time to leave.

***

As Cillian drove you home, the atmosphere in the car was a mixture of lingering tension and a newfound sense of possibility. The silence between you held a depth of unspoken words, but neither of you were ready to break it just yet.

You couldn't help but steal glances at Cillian as he focused on the road. His strong features were softened by the gentle glow of the passing streetlights, and you found yourself drawn to his presence. Despite the pain and uncertainty, there was still something undeniably magnetic about him that held your heart captive.

When you reached your doorstep, Cillian parked the car and turned off the engine. This was the moment where everything felt like it hung in limbo - neither moving forward nor going back. The weight of your decision bore down on you, and you wondered if giving him a chance was the right choice.

Cillian turned to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking. "Thank you for tonight," he said softly, his voice holding a hint of vulnerability. "I know it's not much, but I want to make things right and if it is just closure you want then I will accept that” he pointed out.

His words were genuine, but the fear of history repeating itself lingered in your mind.

“I appreciate that," you replied honestly, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "And despite everything, I had a good time tonight,” you admitted, to which Cillian nodded, his eyes filled with determination.

"I did too” he told you as a flicker of hope danced in Cillian's eyes and he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "Can I see you on Thursday?” he then asked, and you blushed.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement deep in your chest which, of course, was something you tried hard not to show him. "Thursday should be okay," you replied, your voice filled with nervousness. "But it will have to be during the day because I have a show in the evening," you added, hoping he wouldn't mind.

Cillian's smile widened, relief evident in his eyes. "That's absolutely fine," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "How about I pick you up at noon?” he then asked before thanking you for another chance with his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Noon sounds good," you replied and, with a sense of hope and anticipation, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Cillian," you said softly, your voice conveying your still lingering affection.

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice filled with gratitude as you stepped out of the car and, as you watched him drive away, a wave of optimism washed over you. Perhaps this time, things would be different.

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: none | masterlist

The crisp night air brushes Azriel’s wings and cools his burning hot skin. A welcome feeling due to the heat blossoming in his chest, and simmering within his veins.

Flying with a male of Eris’ size is not easy, but with the Autumn Court prince fitting so perfectly against him, it actually isn’t too difficult.

It almost feels like their bodies were made for each other and so Azriel manages to gracefully descend and land atop one of the balconies of the Moonstone Palace. He had shadow-winnowed them most of the way, but the last part they had to fly. 

He helps Eris climb back to his feet, neither of them saying a word while doing so. They also didn’t talk while flying. Azriel only asked if he was too fast and teased Eris that if he felt sick he should tell him; Eris had only shown him a vulgar gesture and told him he liked it fast. 

That alone was enough to heat Azriel’s blood and in combination with Eris’ scent and the close proximity and warmth of the heir’s body, it nearly made Azriel navigate them into one of the towering buildings of Velaris. 

But Eris didn’t even notice the reaction he caused in Azriel, being too occupied with admiring and gaping at the brightly lit city below them.

Before this moment, the spymaster has never seen the Autumn Court prince like this — his lips parted, eyes aglow, and silent admiration etched upon his features. Eris always looks beautiful, but Azriel has to admit that in that moment, he looked absolutely breathtaking. 

Silently, Eris follows Azriel through the corridors of the Moonstone Palace until they reach a door at the very back of the second floor, the walls made of white marble here, reflecting the moonlight. Some sconces grave the walls here and there.

“Your room,” Azriel’s voice is a little hoarse from not talking for a while. He extends his hand, and shows Eris into his room who follows without a word. His stroll his no longer so proud, but rather casual, long steps carrying him over the polished floor. 

“Thank you,” Eris says once he is inside and after has taken a good look around the room. Rhysand is rich and so is the Night Court and they show it. In every little detail of the room it becomes visible how fortunate this court is. 

Eris wants the same for the Autumn Court. He wants his court to thrive under his rule, for the money to be equally distributed amongst his people, no one having to suffer anymore or fear for their existence or their life. 

Azriel rips him out of his thoughts about the future, the shadowsinger’s deep voice hollowing through the room and sending a chill down Eris’ arms. 

“I want to apologise for what I said concerning Beron.” Azriel leans against the doorframe, his demeanour rather casual, but there is a whirlwind of emotions brewing within the hazel of his eyes. “It was wrong to push you, I know this and I’m sorry for it.”

Azriel hates nothing more than to admit that he has made a mistake, he is too proud to do so most times, but this time he can’t avoid it. He has to tell Eris that he is sorry and that what he said was wrong. It was a grand mistake and now he has to stand in for it. 

“You weren’t wrong though,” Eris answers with a hint of gloom in his voice. He shrugs and then opens the cuffs on his cobalt jacket and places them on the dresser, then turns back to Azriel. 

“I need to do something soon. Beron is going insane. I will tell you and the High Lord and Lady more about that tomorrow. I’m tired tonight, but what I can already share is that he is scared Summer will siege us. And he is–”

Eris cuts himself off and shakes his head. 

“And he what?” Azriel takes a step into the room, the door falling close behind him with a soft thud. His shadows swirl around him, restless, as if they are in a hurry. 

“I think he is after Lucien.”

“Because he’s Helion’s son?”

So, the Night Court already knows this. Eris doesn’t let his surprise show, veils his face in cool nonchalance and dips his chin. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”

The shadowsinger bows his head. His hand moves to the door handle and he opens the door, and starts to move. But Eris stops him when he says, “Good night, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel halts on the threshold, broad, scarred hand braced on the doorframe. His shoulders rise with a deep inhale.

Deafening silence falls over them, until—

“Dance with me.”

Azriel looks over his shoulder into Eris’ baffled face. Eris’ doesn’t move, nor answer. His feet are rooted to the ground, and for a moment Azriel thinks that the prince has stopped breathing. 

“Dance with me,” the shadowsinger repeats and turns around completely. He lets the door fall shut behind him, leaning against it. 

Eris still says nothing. Waits for Azriel to continue, caught in a stupor about this odd request. Azriel can’t possibly mean that.  

"Dance with me like you danced with Elain." A small, almost sheepish smile blooms on Azriel‘s face. Eris is mesmerised by it, has never seen such beauty before. And there is also hope within the endless hazle, a little flicker of anticipation, glowing in Azriel’s eyes. 

Questions burn on his tongue, accusations that go into the direction of Azriel being insane and completely round the bend, but none of them leave Eris’ mouth. His throat works on a swallow and eventually, and instead of any rude remark, he says, his voice low and a hint unsure, "I’ve never danced with a male before."

"There‘s always a first for everything." Azriel takes a tentative step forward. "Dance with me."

But Eris remains where he is, flexing his fingers at his side. "Why would I want to dance with you?" He swallows thickly. "Why would you want to dance with me?"

The smile on Azriel’s face does not fade. But it changes – turns from shy to bemused. "Because–”

Azriel‘s throat bobs and he gives his head a little shake. “I don’t know. I just want to dance with you – I want you to show me how to dance.”

Eris moves in closer, so close the tips of their shoes are touching. “You know how to dance. I saw you dance with Lady Nesta last year. So…” He pauses, waits for Azriel to lift his gaze to meet his own. “Why do you want to dance with me?”

“I have no reason for it, other than that I want to try it. That I want to dance with you.” Azriel’s eyes lock with Eris’. The usual void is gone, replaced by a flame that also ignites a spark in Eris’ empty chest. 

The Autumn Court reaches out and takes Azriel’s hand into his.

It feels like lightning zips between their bodies, the little spark between their hands making them both pull back. Or wanting to. Eris holds onto Azriel’s hand, the heat against his palm an oddly welcome feeling. He had expected Azriel’s hands to be cold, ice cold, but they are warm. Callused, marred with many scars, but warm. And big. 

“What happened to your hands?”  Eris asks, knowing he shouldn't be asking questions like this and getting involved in things that aren't his business.

"Nothing important," Azriel whispers, slowly lifting his other hand and placing it carefully on Eris' broad shoulder.

But it does, the Autumn Court heir thinks, it does matter to him. Nevertheless, he won’t push Azriel to tell him. Obviously not. If Azriel is not ready to share, he has no right to force him to do so. 

A little awkwardly, Eris’ hand moves to Azriel’s waist, resting atop the leathers, the Illyrian’s hard muscles still noticeable through the fabric. 

Eris moves Azriel a little closer to him, positioning in the way he wants him. A sigh slips through the spymaster’s lips, his body rigid, tense. 

Eris lets his eyes run over Azriel’s face. “We have no music.”

“Fuck,” Azriel curses below his breath. “I haven’t thought of that.” 

Eris chuckles amusedly, the sound like a soft caress of Azriel’s skin. “They call you shadowsinger, I suppose you know how to sing,” the prince muses, the corner of his mouth moving up. 

“I am a shadowsinger,” Azriel corrects him.

Eris smirks. “Well, since you are a shadowsinger, I’m sure you can sing.” 

“You want me to sing for you?” Azriel’s chest feels a little tight, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He has never sung for anyone, except for Gwyn. Once after training, they sang together. But for someone else – for Eris – never. He is unsure and all of a sudden so incredibly nervous.  

“For us,” Eris corrects him. “We need some music to dance to.”

Azriel decides to hum, because he also needs to focus on dancing and doing both singing and dancing at the same time with Eris being so close and his heart already nearly bursting through his ribcage due to being so nervous it would be too much. 

Colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks, the closeness to Eris so strangely comfortable he never wants to step away again. But it also makes him feel a little tense.

Never has he been so close to a male. Never has he been so close to Eris and not been entangled in a fight before. This is a strange and new position they find themselves in, but to his own astonishment, nothing about it feels strange. It feels oddly familiar and good. 

And Eris must think the same. Otherwise he would move away, or would have said no to begin with. But Eris keeps close, his hands on Azriel’s body, warming his skin even through his Illyrian leathers. Azriel’s thoughts stray, imagining Eris’ hot hand against his bare skin. Wrapped around his–

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asks, the sound of his voice almost guttural. He scents Azriel’s arousal and it drives him insane. 

Azriel’s blush intensifies, his breath catches and calling upon every small part of his rationality, he says, his voice way too breathy, “Dancing with you.”

A fire, one that Azriel has never seen before, flashes in Eris’ auburn eyes and with one strong pull, Eris moves Azriel’s body so close their chests are touching, their lips mere inches from the other, breathing the same air. 

The air is charged with an unspoken tension, a mix of shyness, curiosity and nervousness. Neither of them has ever danced with another male before, and the fact that no one out of Azriel’s or Eris’ family knows about the moment they now share, or the ones they shared in past, hangs in the air like a delicate secret.

Eris leads them. Azriel allows him to do so, revelling in the moment of handing over the control to Eris.

At the beginning their movements are hesitant, first having to find a rhythm. Each step is careful, Eris’ thigh sliding between Azriel’s legs. Subtle yearning simmers beneath their skin that feels almost electrical, the pull within their chests drawing them closer and closer.

A contented chuckle parts Eris lips, and Azriel smiles. A secret, hidden smile, that Eris can’t see because he isn’t looking at Azriel’s face. 

As the dance continues, their bodies start to move in harmony, creating a secret, intimate space where the outside world and all the people within it fade into insignificance. Azriel allows himself to enjoy this moment to the fullest, pushing away the feeling of betrayal and regret. This dance is yet another thing he can’t tell his best friends —his brothers— about.

In the quiet room, a few fae lights cast shadows upon the walls that resemble the ones swirling around Azriel, and now also around the Autumn Court prince. 

“They like me?” Eris asks in a hushed voice, eyes following one of the shadows gliding up his arm. 

“I guess they do,” Azriel answers him honestly, warmth once again seeping into his cheeks. He is surprised himself how they react to Eris; he wouldn’t have expected that. 

Azriel continues to hum, creating a lovely symphony that accompanies their waltz. The occasional shy smiles exchanged between the two males speak volumes, creating an erratic feeling within their souls and making their hearts beat faster.

Their movements become more languid, the dance at some point slowing, coming to end too quickly. 

However neither of them is yet ready to step away. It is almost like a veil lies upon them, keeping them safe within, shielding them from the uncertainty and the threats from the outside world. 

Azriel moves in closer again, his hand slipping out of Eris’, but instead of pulling it back he slides it up Eris' chest and places it on his hard pectoral. Their fronts touch and he leans in, once again drawing in the prince’s scent.

Fucking perfect, Azriel thinks. So perfect, he wants to drag his nose and tongue across Eris’ skin, and lick and taste every part of his body. 

His mind is going insane, he knows this. This sheer need and desire are fucking strong and render him mindless. Dumb. Delirious. 

Eris’ skin grows taut beneath his finery, Azriel’s touch doing things to him he has not experienced before.

Their breaths mingle in front of their faces and as much as he wants to move away, he can’t. Something hinders him from doing so. 

He wants Azriel, so much his cock almost painfully strains within his breeches. If he could, he would push Azriel back toward the bed, strip him bare and–

And nothing. He hates him. He should hate Azriel so much. He can’t allow himself to think about fucking him until he forgets his own name. Until they both forget who they are and what kind of responsibilities they have. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Eris asks once again, and his whole body stiffens when he feels Azriel’s lips brush against his neck. They are slightly damp, warm and extremely soft and feel exactly the same way as when they touched his own lips.

Eris fights the urge to groan but also doesn’t shove the shadowsinger away. He allows him the closeness. He allows him to touch his body.

“Because I wanted to,” Azriel breathes and knows how silly that answer has been. But he has no better answer for Eris. Especially not right now. Not with Eris being so close, not with his scent being the only thing Azriel can focus on.

Azriel steps away, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. He has never taken in Eris‘ appearance as he does now. 

The Autumn Court male is tall, incredibly tall, as tall as he himself. Eris is wearing finely tailored clothes, the cobalt fabric of his jacket straining slightly over his broad and sculpted shoulders. It hints at the impressive muscles beneath, particularly in his upper arms.

Azriel allows himself to drink in the sight of Eris, half his face once again bathed in the muted glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtain-framed window.

A smug look spreads over Eris face and he closes the distance between them, faces almost touching.

“Why did you kiss me, Azriel?” Eris' breath tingles Azriel’s face, his mouth parting slightly, tongue poking out to bring some wetness to his dry lips.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answers, the eye-contact he tries to maintain threatening to waver. 

He can’t tell him about the pull on his chest, that everything in his body screams at him to kiss Eris, to taste him, to feel him, to just be near him. He can’t tell him how much he wants him. How much he desires him. 

Eris' head drops, falling into the crook of Azriel’s neck. The shadowsinger allows it.

Slowly, tauntingly Eris‘ lips drag across Azriel’s in gooseflesh covered skin, fangs adding the necessary bite. Eris' hand slides around Azriel’s waist to the small of his back, resting there.

His palm radiates nothing but heat and fire, but not the kind of fire the shadowsinger fears. No, this one is full of passion. Azriel’s breaths become ragged, his back bowing slightly, bending to Eris’ will. His lids close and before he can stop himself he moans. 

The noise elicits a delighted, arrogant growl for the Autumn Court heir. “I want to hear more of that. All the sensual noises you can give me.” Eris lets his tongue glide over Azriel’s salty skin. “But only when you have a real answer to my question. Only when you know what you really want.”

A cold falls over Azriel, bitter and harsh. He shudders when Eris steps, moving behind the stray of moonlight into the shadows amd out if his reach.

“Good night, shadowsinger.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.11

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 982

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

Note: This story does not follow the MCU timeline exactly

---

When you got home you immediately called your mom to tell her about Leon. You explained your whole day and how you felt a new surge in energy and determination just from one date- could you even call it a date? It felt like one.

Your mother was happy for you but in true mother fashion, she urged you to be cautious and not jump into things too quickly. You assured her you would be careful but you couldn’t help but wish she was a little more excited for you. 

After all, it was so hard for you to make friends let alone find someone interested in you, this guy was like a dream come true.

He wasn’t Captain America-level hot but he made up for it with personality

In hopes of receiving a warmer response- and not because you missed her or anything- you broke your silent streak and texted Nat the good news.

~

Nat didn’t know what to do when you texted her that you wished you could hear her voice. Part of her was scared at just how eager she was to give in to your request, how keen she was to hear your voice, how close she’d been to hitting that call button that haunted her day in and day out. 

But you would know.

You knew what The Black Widow sounded like, you’d watched her interviews, you would recognize her voice and that would complicate things.

Would you be mad at her for not telling you?

Would you be weirded out?

Would you give out her number?

She didn’t think you were the kind of person who would do that but it was in her nature to be cautious of everyone and everything. She knew it was probably hurting you that she wasn’t comfortable enough to talk to you but she was scared and that scared her. 

She was The Black Widow for fucks sake, she didn’t get scared, especially not of…well you.

At least that’s what she was trying to convince herself.

Because maybe deep down she knew that she’d already let you in more than she’d meant to.

Deep down she knew she cared about you, and caring was a weakness.

So she spent her Sunday in the training room working off her frustration and she went on her mission and let it consume her mind. She tried to ignore the concerned looks Steve would give her, and the curious ones Clint would throw her way. It was hard being around people who knew you so well.

Both men had noticed the change in her, from someone who wasn’t very interested in social media to suddenly texting every day. They had tried to coax it out of her but she wasn’t ready to share you with anyone yet, let alone admit that she had grown attached to someone. She was sure both men would scold her for trusting someone over text but she was smart and she did her research on you.

She knew the school you graduated from, the business where you worked, the name of your first pet. She was thorough and although the rest of The Avengers never underestimated her, it seemed like sometimes they forgot how prepared she was in every situation.

Every situation but this one it seemed. Emotions were not her forte.

So she let you go silent because she didn’t know what else to do, a part of her was worried as time went on that you weren’t going to text her ever again but come Saturday evening her phone pinged with a notification and her heart skipped a beat at the familiar ice cream emoji that popped up. 

She refused to acknowledge just how fast she opened her phone and clicked on the message.

However, her anticipation and relief were quickly replaced by a pit in her stomach as she read and re-read your text.

       Y/n🍦:

Y/n🍦:

I met a guy!

Nat recognized the feeling in her chest as the same one that she’d felt when she’d met Peter and Wanda. There was an initial protectiveness over their naivety and kindness. 

She felt something akin to that now and she didn’t know why. 

Perhaps it was because you were a young woman living alone in New York and it was her job to protect people like you. But a deeper part of her recognized that wasn’t the case. 

She was worried about you, she had missed you, and while she had been brooding about if you’d ever talk to her again you’d been out meeting new people. 

She knew she didn’t have a right to be upset though. It was her who’d made you upset. She never texted first. She tried to be reserved. 

And you texted her with so much excitement.

She couldn’t bring herself to ruin your joy- or your silent forgiveness of her actions.

            Y/n🍦:

Nat🔪:

Like an actual guy or?

Y/n🍦:

Har-Har

I talk to real people you know

Nat🔪:

Yes, the tennis ball and basketball 

with googly eyes.

They are very real Y/n, I know.

Y/n🍦:

Someone had extra sassy juice today

Nat🔪:

Well I own the company

I have to taste-test the products

Y/n🍦:

Well for your information

This volley-ball with eyes

is cute and wears a leather jacket

Nat🔪:

Hold on- Why do I hear faint music playing

in the background?

Oh wait, my limbs are moving on their own.

I feel a dance coming on

Y/n🍦:

You ass!

He’s very real!

His name is Leon.

Nat🔪:

Leon backward is Noel

You met a Christmas elf.

Congratulations.

Tell Santa I said hi!

Y/n🍦:

OkAy but really-

Can I tell you about him?

Pleeeease?

Nat🔪:

You can tell me anything, Y/n.

Anytime.

You had no idea just how true that statement was. Even if Nat didn’t care about the topic she would listen to you for hours if it made you happy. 

Pt.12

She's back! and sassier than ever! But how will Y/n and Nat interact with this third person entering the story?~ Starry

~Taglist~

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx

[lanas-delight]

from across the room.

♫ rec: about you by the 1975

✰ an enhypen scenario || gen!reader x jake

✰ description — a disastrous break up, raging arguments, fading love, and what could’ve been.

✰ warnings — language, arguments, mention and accusations of cheating, and a LOT of angst.

✰ note — u guys dont know me yet but i have been told im a mastermind when it comes to writing angst 😍 (ive js made my friends cry with what ive written before lolz) anyways enjoy! 🤭😅

Relationships never lasted with you. It was never your fault exactly, it was either them not being ready for it or just plainly doing you dirty, but you always moved on. It never phased you much, any of it, though that was because all of those people before weren’t him.

His name was Jake. You met him exactly two years and 23 days ago. Your two year anniversary was 18 days ago. You loved him, and he loved you. Everything was good. You were already living together, which happened about seven months ago, but there hasn’t been any issues. Everything was good—until it wasn’t.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” Jake huffs, falling back onto the shared bed of yours. “Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do, maybe more,” he was referring to the business trip he was being forced to go on for a few days. He leaves tomorrow, and he hated that he would have to leave you again. This wasn’t the first business trip he’s ever been on, especially lately. He had gone on seven the last two months alone. You kept count.

"When will you be back?"

"Saturday?" He sounded unsure. "I'll call you once we get there, though," and he sat on the bed, putting on his shoes and tying the laces before continuing to pack his suitcase. You didn't say a word, only sat beside his suitcase and in hopes to reassure you, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You, however, just sighed and looked over at his direction, your eyes avoiding his, earning a puppy-like look from him. "What?"

"You sure have gone on a lot of trips lately," you remark, though quietly. He stares at you as you continue, "I'm worried, Jake."

"About?"

A sudden twist in your stomach, you felt sick. "Nevermind, I'll sound stupid," but he sits with you, worried and concerned terribly.

"No, what is it?"

You sighed again.

"Talk to me, Y/N."

"Are you having an affair?"

Jake laughed. He laughed. "What?" He scoffed, "Why would I ever cheat on you? Are you insane?" Such a kind thing to say to your partner, but he took it back instantly. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. It's really just a business trip, Y/N," he tells you, "I only love you."

"But how can I trust you?" You stood up, apart from him as he watched you with furrowed brows. "You've gone on so many, so often, you—You barely call when you're gone. How am I supposed to be sure you're not in bed with someone else?"

"Y/N," he shook his head, "If you don't have trust, we—"

"We have nothing, right?" And you turned, "Nothing new," You then walked off but he followed you into the kitchen, his packing coming to a sudden halt as he tried to make things right with you before he would leave. You grabbed some of the dishes and started to hand-wash them, while he stood near you and tried to reason with you.

"You're being ridiculous," he tells you, a bit rudely, "Why won't you listen to me?" But you ignore him. "Y/N, please. I don't want to leave with us like this. I love you—"

"Then prove it," You turned to him suddenly, "Prove that you love me, because you don't. You sleep in our bed for a couple nights then you're off on another trip. You kiss me but there's no love. There's nothing. There's . . ." You sighed, "There's nothing between us anymore. Because of you."

Jake took a step back. "Y/N, what are you saying?"

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked through your photos, showing him a screenshot you had taken off of Jake's phone. Messages with a girl who you didn't recognize, but when you messaged the girl, she swore they were just friends, that she had a boyfriend. But even that won't stop a girl sometimes. You didn't know how to feel, you weren't even sure if the messages had the intent of an affair. It was innocent chatting, you thought, but the fact he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes then made you realize the truth. It wasn't innocent. It wasn't a surprise either.

"I don't know why you talk to her, tell her everything while you tell me nothing, but if she's what you want, then she can have you." You threw a pot down in the sink, creating a loud noise to echo through the kitchen and the rest of the apartment as you stormed out, grabbed your coat and slid on your uggs. "I'm going to F/N's," you say, seeing him appear in the hallway behind you. "Goodnight, Jake." The door slammed behind you and you left, leaving the love you had once for him behind.

He called twice, left a voicemail, and sent over 30 messages, explaining everything. He didn't have feelings for that other girl, though he didn't give you any reason to think otherwise so you left that night. You didn't want anything to do with him. Genuinely, you didn't. You didn't know if he had actually cheated, though he claimed he didn't and that he would never do that to you, but he opened up to that girl about things you never even knew an ounce about.

She did have a boyfriend, but it wasn't until a week later that she texted you, telling you that she did like your boyfriend, which caused her own boyfriend to dump her. It wasn't surprising to you at all.

You had been staying at your friend's house for the last week, so when you finally called him back, you only asked him if he had any feelings for that girl. He didn't say anything. He hesitated, but he said no. However, that wasn't enough for you. You hung up on him and texted him that you were through. You asked him to have his stuff out of your apartment by next Friday, which he agreed to.

But on that Friday, when he was taking the last of his stuff, he stopped and looked at you coldly, unsure what to say but spoke anyways. His voice deep and hurt, just like his heart, just like yours.

"You didn't fight for us," he told you, "You didn't even care to listen to what I had to say. You leave every time it gets hard, you blame me for everything I do, but what am I supposed to do when you won't even hear me out, Y/N?"

"I don't know," You stared back at him with crossed arms, "Maybe don't cheat on me?" You scoffed, but he couldn't believe you.

"Why do you have to brush me aside like that?" Jake questioned, "You never listened to me. Have you even considered the possibility that I didn't open up to you because you didn't give me the chance to?"

You unfolded your arms, but you took his words the wrong way. "Are you implying I made you cheat on me?"

But that enraged him. "I didn't cheat on you, Y/N!" He raises his voice, throwing his hands in the air defensively, "I talked to who I thought was my friend, about personal stuff because I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about it, so instead of just trusting me to tell you on my own, you go through my phone and accuse me of cheating on you."

"You hesitated," you threw it back in his face, "When I asked you if you liked her, you hesitated before saying no. You had to think about whether or not you liked another girl while you were with me. Do you not realize how pathetic that made me feel?"

"Do you not realize how pathetic you've made me feel?" Jake remarks, tears in his eyes, mirroring yours, "I'm the bad guy in every part of this story, Y/N, because you won't even give me the chance to explain myself. You keep dismissing me and ignoring me, but why won't you listen to me? I love you with all I have, Y/N."

But you wiped your tears, sniffling. "I never want to see you again."

His eyes grew wide, but he didn't fight against it. He grabbed the last of his stuff and left without another word spoken between you both.

There was a party. You didn't know anyone but your best friend, but as she had gone off with her boyfriend, you were now alone, sitting on the couch, drinking liquor out of some plastic cup. You wore a red dress, made of satin, with heels that weren't too high that your ankles wanted to break but not too flat that made you appear too different from everyone else. You didn't want to be different, easy to single out. You wanted to fit in, just like everyone else. But you weren't like everyone else. That was clear the moment he saw you.

The room was crowded. You could barely see over dozens of people piled into one room. Music blaring, dim lights as one of your favorite songs started to play. People were dancing, people were drinking, having a good time like there was no tomorrow. And there he was, standing by the wall. You could see him through the small spaces between people. His eyes were glued to his phone screen for a fleeting moment, one that felt a little too long until he suddenly met eyes with you and in response, you smiled at him from across the room, while your heart jumped out of your chest and you had never felt more noticed in your life.

He approached you soon enough, breaking the awkwardness with a little joke before he sat beside you and started an easy-going conversation with you about what you did for work, what he did for work, etc. The night ended with a lightly-sober kiss between you both, where he said something so beautiful to you that you swore it was engraved into you. He said, "You are so pretty when you smile, but when it was just at me, like I was the only person in that crowded room, I knew it was you that I'm going to fall for." Five days later, after a couple of sober dates, he was your boyfriend. And for two years, you promised yourself that he was the one. Until he wasn't.

You had a dream once, that you married Jake and had a family with him. You had a couple of dogs, ones he and the kids all named like Scout, Georgie, and Layla the 2nd. You had your dream job, as did he, and you were just so happy with him and the kids. He had built you your dream house, with a concrete pool and a beautiful backyard that the kids would run all over in with the dogs. He had always promised you that he would anything for you—build you a house, give you the family you wanted, be the husband you needed. You loved him with your entire being, and he felt the same way about you.

But it had been five years since the break up. You haven't heard from him in at least four years, and the last thing you were told, he was engaged to some new girl and was moving back to Australia after the wedding.

You had met someone else, too. You had only been dating for a few months now, nothing too serious just yet, but you were just getting used to being in a relationship again. You were taking it slow, not wanting to rush anything.

You didn't have feelings for Jake anymore. You haven't loved him in years. But there's a part of that wishes that fate would lead you back into each other's lives, single and open for a second chance. But that was never going to happen. You were never going to be the one he stares at from across the room, where you smile at him and start the love that should have lasted forever, but it never stood a chance. You had moved on, and so has he. The memories of what love gave you both lingers in your eyes, your mind, and for the rest of your life, you'll know that it just wasn't meant to be. From across the room, you'll stay, and regret ever smiling at him for he became the love of your life, just as quickly as you left him. It was over. But you were okay.

You had to be.

———————————————————————————————

A/N - sorry guys i felt like hurting feelings today mb

[astroels]

hi this is the same anon who asked if you would ever write something similar to the drabble you posted yesterday!

i was wondering if you could write ellie x reader where reader is having a bad mental day and ellie is super understanding and comforting?

ellie understands that it’s nothing personally when reader pushes her away because interacting with people sounds like such a task. she’ll get you to take your meds (if you take them) and will mostly go about her day normally while quietly check in on you in your shared bedroom. will bring you ice water and see if you need anything, and only sit with you if you tug on her arm or whisper her name because she doesn’t want to accidentally invade your space. you just laying your head on her lap while she strokes your hair and silently reads or writes in her journal

ughhh i need her

Reprise

E. Williams x Reader

wc: 1.8 k

cw: mental health talk, comfort, little angst

a/n: sorry it took so long :(( but thank you for the request <3

apocalyptic au, not proofread !

You laid in bed as the sunlight peeked through the curtains. It burned through your eyelids, irritating your senses. Rolling to lay flat on the bed, you finally took in the day of what was to come; not much, but it still felt hallow as dread filled your thoughts. Just having to get up and fill the day with mindless actions stressed you. But hey - at least you had Ellie. Your mind trickled to her as a distraction from your previous train of thought. She wasn't in bed, but that wasn't unusual since she liked to cook sometimes or "get chores done earlier to spend more time with you," as she's said before. You concluded on option one as the smell of syrup and bread made its way to tickle your nose.

You knew Ellie'd be on her way to wake you any time now, so you decided to do her the small favor of saving her the trip upstairs. You got up groggily, pausing for a few seconds to get your brain to follow your body on standing up. You made no noise going downstairs, you didn't mean to be quiet, but it wasn't a talking day. Upon your arrival, you saw Ellie's face light up, a smile creeping on her cheeks. "Hey, baby," she said so lovingly while she placed the last bits of food onto a second plate. You just gave her a small smile while continuing to walk to her and place your head above her shoulder. Your silence made Ellie glance at you, almost like she was trying to scan for what you were feeling.

Ellie was used to your behavior, your occasional silence and disconnection, but she never liked jumping into conclusions, fearing that one day she'd be wrong and it'd cause a rift between you guys. She didn't want to bombard you with question on the dot so she just continued to talk as if you gave replies. Placing a quick kiss on your temple she moved away, your head belonging to you again. She placed both plates on the table and nudged her head as a way of telling you to join her. When you continued to sit quietly and just stare at her or more so the food while you ate, she questioned you. "Everything alright, babe?" She looked at you concerned but averted her eyes when you made eye contact. You swallowed your food, trying to get your words to come out, or trying to figure out what to say. You hummed, trying to reply. "Yeah, think I just need some time." You tried to have pep in your voice, knowing staying monotone made Ellie overthink.

She wanted to gain a little more intell before completely moving on, just to not be too distant. "Is it like last time?" She said with food in her mouth, a bad habit of hers. You thought to yourself. Well, last time was a little worse, you wouldn't want to worry her and be a burden. "Around there," you drank from your cup "a little better, though." Ellie appreciated when you spoke to her through your feelings. She knew it was difficult, but both of your efforts really held things together. She smiled softly, "That's good." You both ate in comfortable silence after that. You never told Ellie out front to not try and have conversations, but she picked it up herself considering how small your replies would be or if you'd even reply at all. With these factors, she decided it'd be best to be physical support than word support.

Once both of you were seemingly done with the food, Ellie got up to take the plates to the sink. You were ready to go back to bed and sleep or read, do something with your time that wouldn't overwhelm you. But you couldn't bear leaving Ellie with the thought that this had anything to do with her. You made your way silently to her and snaked your arms around her waist, placing your head on her back. You knew she relied on intimacy mannerisms to feel reassured, close to you. Her body tensed slightly under your sudden embrace but slowly melted into you. She turned around to reciprocate the hug, tightening it, knowing it'd be awhile till you'd be alright with doing such things. you heard her whisper into you. "I love you." With her words still lingering, you gave her a smile and walked towards the stairs, up into your room.

-

You spent your time looking out the window, watching the sheep jump around and organizing the clutter that previously filled your bedside table. Before you could pick up the book that you'd prolonged to read, the door opened. Ellie peeked her head through with her body following with a cup. She cleared her throat, "Uhm, I got your pill here," she then brought attention to the cup, "water," she gave you a light smile. The sentiment filled you with slight warmth, but you didn't want to take it; you didn't want to rely on the pills. They were so hard to come by and added more pressure on having to find traders that weren't scams. She made her way to your side of the bed, setting down the cup of water and leaving the pill next to it. You grabbed it and stretched your hand, waiting for her to accept it. "Don't want it today." Her false smile faltered, unsure of how to respond to it. "it'll help you, baby." Her voice speaking softly as she tried to give you the pill back.

It ticked you off, the way she tried to get you to take it after you said no the first time. "I don't want it." you raised your voice, smacking her hand away. You proceeded to look the other way, a quiet statement that you were done with talking. She looked taken aback, defeated even, but she didn't show her disappointment to you. She nodded and went for the door. "I'll be around." With that, she left you to tend to whatever you were doing in the room.

-

It was about 2 hours after lunch when Ellie came back. You'd been reading, picking at fabrics, and finally took a nap. You didn't have much to do, not that you could do much anyways, so a nap was perfect. It allowed you to escape the guilt that lingered after Ellie left and the stress it was causing you; it allowed you to not think about the burning hole in your stomache that alerted your hunger. A knock sounded at the door awhile after, but you were too tangled in the sheets of your unconscious to bother getting up. Your sleep was sweaty, unpleasuring. You fluttered your eyes open at the door creaking, still trying to find the want to wake up.

Ellie's voice is what actually got you to wake up. "Hey," She placed a hand on top of your head, making sure you weren't warm. "Got you some fruit, you missed lunch." You thanked her in your head, you were starving. You got up and sat criss crossed on the bed. "Thank you, Els." Your voice had a genuine tone to it as you took the plate from Ellie's hand. In your head, you expected Ellie to sit down and stay while you ate, but instead, she immediately headed for the door. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, she must've still be conscious of the way you acted earlier.

At first, you tried to grab onto her arm, but she was out of reach so it looked like you were just stretched for a bit at an award position, so you forced yourself to call her back. "Ellie." it tumbled out low, almost a whisper. But, she heard, she always did, thankfully. She turned her head curiously. "Hm?" She looked ready to go, but her eyes seemed to scream exactly what you wanted. They told you she wanted to stay too. "Stay?" It came out a question, you couldn't bare demand her to stay after earlier. You immediately saw her face light up, her freckles showing against the slight flush on her cheeks. "of course, baby." She took off her shoes and pants, leaving her in a stained shirt and boxers. Ellie took her spot on the bed and bent to the side to pick up her journal.

She was right at work, drawing you assumed. You savored each bite of your fruit, you loved the sweetness and juice that each piece held. You were at it for awhile, a slow eater engraved at your roots. No one really spoke, only Ellie's small noises as she drew and your curiosity growing. As you finished up your last piece, you scooted closer to Ellie and looked over her shoulder. There on the paper was a sketch of you having fruit in your mouth, your eyes appearing closed as you looked at the bowl. You were always insecure of your side profile, but Ellie knew how to enunciate your features and make them so soft, pretty. When she noticed you peeking, she playfully turned her journal away. "Impatient, are we?" She teased. You shrugged, "Just a little." You flopped your head onto her lap, your body curling infront of you.

Silence overtook the room as Ellie switched from her journal to one of her comics. It made you happy since you were the one that found that volume. You secretly traded for it when her birthday was coming up, and she was thrilled. Although you laid on Ellie, and she had her hand soothing the top of your head, you still felt that weight in your chest. "I'm sorry, Ellie," your voice consumed the silence. She bookmarked her place, placing it down on her bedside table. "What for, babe?" She used her other hand to make patterns on your arm. "For how I acted." You swallowed, trying to continue. "I know it'll happen again, but I want you to know it isn't your fault." You couldn't face her, so you stayed down on her lap, facing the front of you. "I'm trying." That was the last thing you told her, anxiously waiting for her response and focusing on where she touched you.

"That's alright, baby." There was no falter in her voice, no tone that suggested she was lying. "It's okay." She reprised to reassure you. You still felt her hands massage your arm and head, soothing the ache that made you feel heavy all day. "I'll always love you, no matter what." She grazed her hand against your cheek, clearing the dampness of your eyes. "I'm still learning too, it'd be unfair to not understand you're learning too." You smiled against her hand and turned to face her body. Looking up at her, you brought her face towards you by holding her jaw and placing kisses all over her cheeks, finally making it to her lips. You melted in their softness, feeling okay for once that day. "I love you too, els." You turned back around and let her hold you to sleep. She resumed her comic while still giving you attention. It was a much more comfortable sleep, knowing she was by your side.

[asherloki]

helloooo :)

i was wondering if u could write somthing about anderson disrespecting reader when they join cases with sherlock, but always behind their backs

but then sherlock hears and he starts (trying) to beat him up, and anderson puts up a good fight, however sherlock still wins

he goes home to 221B and reader is shocked asking who hurt him and what he did, but he doesn’t give away anything, and simply tell them not to worry about it. whilst reader is patching up his wounds, john comes back and starts saying how cool, dangerous and reckless beating up anderson for reader was and they’re just flustered and shocked, saying thank you to sherlock (maybe a first kiss scene?)

reader also gives anderson a piece of their mind - not because he disrespected them, because he beat up sherlock :)

tysm and ur work is amazing!!!!

Detective's doll

Bbc Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 840

A/n:- listen guys, just one or two fic will come this month, once October is here I'll be doing Halloween fics! I've shared some prompts do check! Fandoms you know, otherwise check my masterlist.

"you think I can help you with this case?" I enquired to Sherlock not believing he asked my help suddenly for a case. I've been fond of him since I moved in. He can seem cold, unfriendly, some people may describe him as arrogant as well. I was no exception, however living with him taught he's actually pretty lonely. Especially since john watson was married. Sometimes when he's working or sitting with his microscope he looks as pure as a child who just needs a hug. I do want to hug him tight sometimes but he's not very fond of touches innit? So I never dared.

"that's why I asked you, look this case includes information about victorian literature and by seeing your side of the bookshelf " he said pointing to our bookshelf, his side was filled with books about chemistry, science, anatomy and mine was filled with victorian classic novels, mostly, "I think you can help us with this".

"okay then" I must admit I was over the moon. A real life adventure was calling me, how could I not be thrilled.

In evening we went to Scotland yard, I felt excited about being able to help these men. Especially Sherlock, he introduced me to lestrade and informed him that I'll be joining their quest. His agreement confirmed my involvement before I went with him to his office to get some information about the case, I thought Sherlock was following me however I turned around to find out he was going to a different direction, he was walking towards Andersen. Perhaps he had business with him, but one question still lingered, he doesn't quite like Andersen that much.

When I came back with a folder in my hand which contained some information put inside, not in an organised way, I looked around for Sherlock, it seemed like he was gone, and for some reason people or I must say other officers there stared at me. I wondered why, maybe because I don't usually visit their office. Though their furrowed brows told some different story.

After I got to Baker Street I found the flat's door already open,

"Sherlock?" I called, to make sure it was him who opened the door, and not some break in, "is it you in there?" I walked in showing some bravery, trying to make least noise possible to find Sherlock struggling with the first aid box.

"gosh" I went closer to him and I gasped as I found out he had a cut along his cheek bone, and some more wounds accompanying "what the... what happened?"

"nothing" replied the detective, still trying to get the box open. I noticed his knuckles were hurt too as they were all red, it was the reason for his struggle with the first aid box. They were hurting him as he tried to open it.

"fine don't tell me" the only thing I couldn't bring myself to like about him was his habit of keeping things hidden, "do me a favour and sit" I wonder if my eyes reflected all the concern I felt for him. It may have, for he stared at me for a few seconds then obeyed without any objection. I took some medicine in cotton to apply over his cut.

"ow" he pulled away as the medicine on the wound felt like burn.

"I know it might hurt but please.." as I said and he nodded in agreement, it appeared to how much I fancied this moment, me taking care of him, even though he was hurt, and that was the part I disliked. I continued to do my job until John Watson came bursting in,

"oh gosh you're here, you did amazing" he seemed overjoyed and I bet I could see all his 32 teeth the way he smiled.

"let's not talk about it" said Sherlock softly. My confusion rose at this point, does john know what happened?

"no wait" I forbid him to interfere, "what happened john?"

"wait you don't know?" he asked in a way as if I'm the one who should be knowing this before others, although he was well aware how secretive his friend can be.

"how's mary? Is pregnancy bothering her?" Sherlock interrupted again, with his terrible skill of small talk.

"shhh" I hushed him "speak up John".

"Sherlock beat up Andersen" He spoke finally.

"he did what?"

"yes, because..."

"you said enough" Sherlock forbid him again.

"no he hasn't" I said, "because?" I turned to John.

"because Andersen said shit about you" John's words left his mouth and hit me, one because Andersen said something bad about me? but I never were mean to him even for once, why would he do that? and two, Sherlock beat him for that? For me?

"it wasn't just.." Sherlock started to say something, he was lacking excuses so he stuttered until I spoke,

"really?"

"yes, Andersen is beaten up terribly by him" replied john, "and you shouldn't bother about what he said".

That only meant it was very mean, "I'd still like to know"

"dumb doll of the detective" said Sherlock, "that's what he told you, you're dumb, a doll who's is controlled by me"

I gasped at this not knowing what to say.

"an opportunist" followed by a few seconds of quietness, "he said more but..."

It felt terrible, no wonder other words were far more worse that Sherlock couldn't bring himself to speak.

"anyway" John said breaking the silence. "I better go home, Mary might need me."

Waving us he went and left us wondering about the situation. I turned to Sherlock as I was yet to understand all those cuts and wounds he endured, were all to protect my image? To protect me from words? He knew then how sensitive I am under the cover of a strong person, "you fought him for me?"

He nodded in response, followed by the heavy exhale.

"and why?"

"because you don't deserve disrespect, and obviously not from someone like Andersen." he replied.

I don't know why but that moment I didn't care if he likes being touched or not instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed my chin on his head, sniffing his hair and realising his shampoo has a decent smell, no wonder his curls were like a soft pillow. It forced me to lean my cheek too with a smile that appeared on my lips, "you didn't have to, but thanks"

"no problem" he said taking my hand, and caressing it, as if it was an assurance, a promise that my palm was safe in his hand.

Next day Sherlock, john and I went to Scotland yard where I found the sight of beaten up Andersen, oh how... terrible honestly. I felt bad how wounded he was but atleast he'll think twice before disrespecting me, or anyone. Sherlock made sure of that.

"you guys go inside, I'll be with you in a minute" I said walking to Andersen, although Sherlock pulled me a little by my wrist to say,

"listen" Sherlock said, "don't put up a fight I did it already"

"I won't" we exchanged smiles and I went to catch Andersen,

"Andersen!" I called.

He looked horrified yet fuming at me he said, "you? what do you want?"

With some strength in my voice I stated, as politely as possible yet stern, "next time if want to say something, make sure it's on my face, but if you dare again, my detective will kill you, I'm his doll afterall, he won't let you play with me like that" then I went a little closer and replied in a hushed voice, "I'm his to love, his to keep, his to adore." This may haven't scared him but infuriated him even more, so I stepped backwards with a smile, now that my threat did it's job and walked away, just one more time I turned around to wave him, a mocking wave to be more clear, "see ya".

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Hiii, miss me?

Now you want to kiss me (or have to? Wasn't there a song like that?)

This month my blog turned two years old. I got the notification in my email. Last year I made an entire celebration post by publishing the funniest/ridiculous asks I got. There were good times back then. Still. Not so much afterwards.

I wasn't the nicest presence in the last few months leading to me abandoning the blog. And I wasn't too discreet about it. Although there was more to it, a lot more. But I'll get there.

First things first. Why am I here when on the 24th of March I dramatically declared that I'm leaving forever? Well, that was a very emotionally-charged post and the result of a few factors. I'm not entirely proud of how I made my exit, but it's also a true reflection of my personality so there's no point in making excuses. Nevertheless, I will explain as much as I can (I still care about privacy, just like before).

On that Friday, I woke up excited. I took a day off from work (yes...I know), I listened to Face, watched the music video. All good. But I was also dreading a bit having to come here because I knew there was this expectation of me to come up with some thought-provoking analysis, say something smart and all that. I was exhausted on all levels, emotionally and intellectually. I had also promised to leave after the promotions were over, somewhere in the middle of April (who would have thought it would last 9 days? Not me), but the plans changed. Not to drag it too much, but on that day I also officially announced to some concerned parties that I'm changing career paths. You know, just something I thought I'd be doing until the day I die and I've been working towards for at least 10 years. No big deal. I was planning on doing it anyway, but actually saying the words and make it real is a different story. I felt extatic, full of adrenaline, so happy with my decision and at that moment, it felt the right time to close BMT. It was somehow directly connected. I made the blog as an escape and now I got the opportunity to turn the page over. It was perfect. Best day ever. I clicked post, I logged out, and then I sat. And after a while, the reality of my decisions hit me in the face. And I felt sad and empty because what the hell am I doing now and what is my identity? I closed my blog too which was my main hobby. And so followed some difficult days. And then it got better. And then bad again. And so on, because it's a roller coaster.

The thing is, I can change my interests, but I can't stop myself from being opinionated. And getting excited. And wanting to talk about it. And share all that on a public platform with some strangers that are interested in what I have to say. Or they used to. It's who I am.

This blog won't remain Bangtan Media Thoughts because I want more than that. I will rebrand this page. I could start fresh with a new blog, but this is still my space and I know some people were interested in reading about other things as well from me, not just BTS. I hope I can built something from that.

The blog won't reflect only a specific niche of interests, but everything that I like in terms of pop culture. From movies, music, fashion, gossip, you name it. Including Kpop. And if I feel the need to rant about Hybe after talking about Ryan Gosling's Ken, I will. Same about JM, JK or whoever I feel like it. If there is a good advice that I got in the last few months, is to adapt and not force myself to abandon something completely. Because it's not as easy as it sounds. And to be honest, it was easier to give up smoking than completely lose interest in kpop. It's a habit. Perhaps this new blog will reflect the way I try to deal with that. A bit more honestly, a little less discourse, certainly less essays because I don't have them in me at the moment. But never say never. This blog will be all me, not just BMT.

I will change the name and url 24h after I post this. This will be an opportunity for all my followers to decide if they want to stay or they are not interested in the new direction. Feel free to do as you please. I welcome new people and greet the old ones who didn't hit unfollow for some reason.

It will go like this:

Bangtan Media Thoughts > Reflections in a Critical Eye

New theme, new profile photo, new beginnings.

All the old posts will still be here. I don't plan on deleting anything. They are all a product of me and my brain and they have their place. I'll probably pin some new posts these days that have to do with the rebranding. It will be like a construction site, but it will be worth it.

One last thing though. After I abruptly left, I received some DMs. I saw them back then. I do feel sorry about those who wanted to check in with me or with whom I used to talk regularly. But I do hope that some of the things I said today will explain my behavior. I also won't start communicating again like that, at least for now. I always felt a bit pressured and I'm not the best at maintaining conversations in private. If that changes, I'll make that clear.

That's it for now. I'm excited. I feel like writing again so here's to another chapter.

My inbox is open and will be, just as usual. No more messages to BMT, but you can call me M. Like in the Bond movies 😉

[carmendei-agere]

CG!Diluc and Little!Venti

(venti getting overwhelmed in angel's share, and dadluc coming to the bard's aid.)

-aka a small draft I cooked up because I couldn't sleep.

--

Venti was never really one to be...quiet. it was an odd sight to see at the main bar of Angel's Share - Venti being completely silent. Usually he was up and about, yelling at other patrons across the bar, or playing his ballads, which would undoubtedly gain him a crowd and a half. A crowd for the fellow in green meant simply one thing:

Wine.

The bard would ask for payment in glasses of wine and only the richest apples, which he would snack on during his breaks.

But not tonight. For the entire night was his break.

Diluc finished serving a table, glancing at the other, who was slumped over his barside, quiet as a mouse. Not a single glass has been by his side all night, and he'd gotten to the tavern half an hour ago. Usually, not ordering or drinking anything would give Diluc the right to kick him out, but he could tell something was wrong.

"Venti." He simply said. "Are you okay?"

The bard in question forces a smile on his face, looking up at the man. "Why, of course." His voice is dead, long gone from this realm. Usually, he's cheery, but it was probably a facade.

"Do you want a drink?"

He simply nods, ordering apple juice, to his suprise.

Hours pass, and he seems to get worse. More patrons leave, and as the night progresses and more alcohol finally hits people's bodies, it gets louder. People start to yell, and there's a fight or two between people that doesn't escalate much, but Venti can see blood.

With the sight of the crimson dripping onto the wooden floorboards of the tavern, he leaves. It wasn't a lot, most likely sourced from a nosebleed, but he's seen enough blood in his lifetime. The door clicks behind him, and not a single patrons notices.

But Diluc does.

When Venti's able to calm down, he slips to the side of the building, and silently cries. It doesn't take Diluc two minutes to follow the sound, and find the other.

"Luc..." He coughs out. Diluc slips himself next to him, and he can't help but feel worry and concern course through his mind.

"I'm here, kiddo." He says. The 'kiddo' part wasn't really intentional, as he had cared for Kaeya a few days ago, and his brain was probably still in 'Caregiver' mode. Curses. "How do you feel, Venti?"

He sniffles, hardly able to get words out. "Fuzzy....an'...an' I wan' it to go away. But it won't...". He manages. "Am I dyin', Diluc?"

Diluc shakes his head. "You're not dying. Did the blood upset you?" Seemingly, he's attempting to change the subject.

"mhm." Venti nods, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I saw a lot of blood in th' Archon War. Blood is scary."

Diluc nods, offering his hand to the other. "I understand. War is scary, kiddo. You're so brave for going through that." Diluc is simply just testing the waters. He knows that Venti is the Anemo Archon, and that he's lived through almost 3000 years. He's sure to have seen things which have left him unsettled and traumatized no doubt.

Something that a mortal like him can hardly comprehend. But still, he tried to help.

"mhm. Had to hurt people, but I didn't wanna-" Venti choked out, curling up into Diluc's side in order to not burst out crying in the middle of the street.

"You said you felt fuzzy earlier, yes?"

Venti nods. "it happens sometimes, an' I don't know why. My brain just goes all..weird."

"and how do you make it stop, Venti? Have you found a way?'

He nods. "Sometimes I just get blankets and wrap them 'round myself. Sometimes it just goes away after a bit."

"you could be experiencing age regression, Venti."

The bard falls into silence once more. "What's that? Is it good...?"

"it depends how you look at it. It's when you feel like a kid again, and do kid things. There's a few things it's linked to, such as stress or PTSD." Judging by the fact that Venti's an archon, not to mention an old archon at that, he suggests that Venti has some form of PTSD, or maybe even some sort of survivor's guilt. But, he puts that aside and carries on for now. "Sometimes people can feel mentally young, and they do activities like that. They use items like pacifiers, teethers, bottles, you know?"

Venti shakes his head. "Never been a kid. You're just sayin' words."

Diluc chuckles, realising that he's right. "You're right. Just...try sucking on your thumb, it might help with your thoughts."

Venti nods, doing just that. He finds himself cooing and chirping at the feeling,

"you can chirp?" Diluc questions.

Venti nods. "Mhm. Wisp."

"ah, okay. Do you want to go back to your place tonight, or do you want-"

Diluc cuts himself off, as he feels Venti crawling into his lap. "No leaving me."

With a chuckle once more, he scoops the other up with an exaggerated grunt, resting the younger against his chest. "To the winery, I suppose."

Diluc trusts that Venti won't sneak to the basement and get himself intoxicated beyond relief, as he's probably very deep in his headspace, judging by the fact that his thumb hasn't left his mouth, and every single shiny thing under the night's sky seems to catch his attention.

Venti eventually settled into his shoulder, putting like a cat as he dozes off. Diluc lets him, making sure they he is safe and content before walking to the winery. He's sure to get the other fed and clothes, perhaps with a stuffed animal, too.

The thought of the bard being homeless passes his mind, but decides to leave that until Venti is much...bigger in headspace.

[broomsick]

Sharing a bit of UPG: underrated, lesser known aspects of some of the Gods!

Hi, people! We’ve got some beautiful rain over here, today, and it’ll soon be warm enough for me to plant my garden! How’s everybody doing? Today, I want to write up a fun and laid back post to share with you all a few of my UPG’s concerning some of the norse Gods and their lesser known aspects! Since my posts are often focused on historical practices and beliefs, I thought it’d be fun for me to write a bit about my personal experiences, for today. Without further ado, let me get into it!

A while ago, I was blessed with the opportunity to talk to a fellow pagan about my thoughts on Eir and my experiences with her! I thought to myself some of you might be interested in hearing about this, since I have posted a few prayers to Eir in the past, but I have not gotten into too much detail concerning my worship of her. The reason for this is that since she is a deity whom we unfortunately don’t know much about, I found it quite difficult coming up with a clear, personalized Eir worship. Hence, my work with her ended up being very casual. Some could say, a bit messy! But I do my best! What I mean by “messy” is that I don’t hold specific events in her honor, but I pray to her quite regularly, for good health and the like.

Now, I mostly want to address one aspect of Eir that’s less spoken of, but which I share with other followers: her ties with intellectuality, scholarly practices and the like. She’s often regarded as a Valkyrie, and as such, it’s possible to associate her with Óðinn, making her ties with knowledge all the more prominent. In my experience, praying to her for help with studies is not unheard of, and it’s certainly not a bad idea! The study of medicine is quite complex, and to master such a skill requires much reflection, especially considering that Eir was primarily worshipped during an era when proper medicinal care was harder to access and all the more necessary. Which is why, in my opinion, associating Eir with anything related to research, studies and the like isn’t too much of a reach!

As a Goddess of medicine and health, amongst other things, she’s often described as kindly and compassionate, even gentle. However, though she is very kind, of course, my experience with her is a bit different! In the sense that, she can have quite a serious aura about her. When it comes to medicine, she takes things quite seriously. So when you pray to her for help with healing and the like, she’s kind of like a fussing mother who tells you to take better care of yourself while she’s making you her homemade remedy!

The next deity I’ll be touching on is Njörðr! Lots of historical evidence, as well as little details I have noticed along my spiritual journey have led me to associate him strongly with leadership, and even fatherhood/parenthood. Many of the people I’ve met and who worked closely with him told me his presence felt fatherly and noble, and I have also experienced this feeling, during the few times when I strongly connected with him. While he generally isn’t viewed as some sort of “King of the sea”, especially not when compared to Ægir and his large hall and opulent feasts, I still tend to associate Njörðr with leadership. For one, due to Yngvi-Freyr’s ties to the concept and the many parallels that can be drawn between these two deities. However, a small, seemingly insignificant detail has also made me to see him as a leader figure. It is the fact that he is more often than not depicted holding an oar! The oar is a symbol of the sea, of course, but there’s something else I came to think of. I was reflecting on this once, during adoration, and thought to myself: “He carries the oar because he isn’t one who stands at the prow and gives out orders, he is one who rows along with the other men.” He accompanies us and leads by showing example! Of course, this is just one of my personal interpretations of the symbol of the oar in Njörðr depictions, and there can be many possible explanations to the presence of this symbol. This interpretation is quite emotional and subjective indeed, but it feels right to me, especially given how a handful of other Njörðr followers have shared this thought with me!

Next on my list is kindly Frigg! Something I find to be very unfortunate is that many pagan sources will boil down her domain to one singular concept: family. Sure, she can indeed be associated with marriage, pregnancy, children and the like. But reducing this Goddess to just these things, for the simple reason that she’s a female figure, and the wife of Óðinn is quite crude (I would even say misogynistic, depending on the context) in my eyes. She is a complex deity whose domains of influence are wide, in my experience. For example, one of her aspects that’s quite prominent in the myths is her ties with divination, fate and prophecy. It’s even said that she knows the fate of all but won’t reveal it, and that she’s adept at the divinatory arts. The extreme resemblance between her character and that of Freyja, which has led many scholars to believe they might have been the same deity at some point in time, has made me draw parallels between the two and eventually associate both with magic, or seiðr. I have asked for Frigg to help me improve my tarot and rune casting skills, in the past, and each time, she has delivered! In that sense, she can be viewed as a patron for those who practice witchcraft, divination or other magical arts. 

Eir art

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x shy!gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: none

Everyone always wondered why you of all people decided to become a weapons systems officer, just like everyone always wondered the same thing concerning Bob Floyd.

You had the aura of a kindergarten teacher, because you were strangely quiet and timid, at least from the perspective of your fellow aviators.

While Nat, Jake, Bradley and Javy were loud and energetic, you tried to stay calm and relaxed in every situation, at work, at home or even out at a bar.

When you were called back to TOPGUN you went happily and you met and reconnected with some amazing people, one of which was your pilot Rooster.

You knew Bradley beforehand from your time at the elite fighter school but you hadn’t flown with him before.

Nevertheless, the two of you worked well together and you immediately developed a bond and he looked out for you, much like Nat did with a certain other timid WSO.

You couldn’t help yourself but feel incredibly attracted to Bob Floyd, even if your attraction was more emotional than physical.

Yes, Bob was attractive in a nerdy boy-next-door-way, but you just got Bob on a level that you hadn’t ever experienced before.

Bob was quiet and careful and preferred to witness action rather than act himself, at least when it came to outside of work.

He was amazing at what he did and gentle and kind, everything you wanted to and what you found attractive as well.

That was the reason for a lot of teasing from your pilot and your crush’s pilot as well, both Bradley and Nat who you were good friends with liked to make gentle fun of you and Bob.

You didn’t know that the WSO was head over heels for you but both Nat and Bradley did, it was as obvious as the crush you had on him, but neither Bob nor you knew about the feelings you had for each other.

You could have noticed had you felt like it was even remotely possible that he could reciprocate your feelings.

Bob was always the first to ask you if you wanted a drink at the Hard Deck despite himself not drinking alcohol, he liked to bring you your beers and stayed in close proximity to you to see if you needed anything.

You always stayed together and sat next to each other watching your friends play pool or darts, while you both stayed in a comfortable silence that was occasionally broken by one of you taking care of the other.

When you did interact the others usually stopped all they were doing to watch you, which made Bob’s ears bright red when he felt the attention on him, and you also felt the heat in your cheek intensify.

When the mission approached you were slowly getting more anxious, as you always did beforehand.

You trusted everyone, especially your pilot but you were nervous for everyone else’s well-being, especially Bob’s.

You knew Nat was an amazing pilot and Bob was the very best WSO around, but you just really felt the need to share how you were feeling with him.

You weren’t one to ever approach someone, especially not someone you had a crush on, but you loved Bob enough to feel the need to do so.

You were out with your friends once again when your pilot asked you to leave the bar and look for Bob, who you had watched disappear outside to the beach earlier.

It had worried you because Bob rarely ran off to get some alone time, so you of course followed Bradley’s suggestion and went after him.

You found Bob sitting by the beach with his feet pulled up, hugging his knees to his chest and watching the sun set.

It was a beautiful image and you tentatively sat down next to him, mirroring his position by pulling your legs to your chest.

Both of you were silent for a while, just watching the waves and sun as you enjoyed each other’s presence as usual.

Your heart was beating faster and faster as you prepared yourself to speak up, until you heard Bob whisper your name.

You turned to face him and you decided to just get off your chest what you wanted to say.

“I really like you,” the two of you said in unison, after which a surprised and nervous silence settled over you.

The two of you were watching each other with wide eyes in absolute surprise, both of you nervous, surprised and happy.

“I really like you,” Bob repeated breathlessly and you nodded softly.

“I just said that too,” you replied, and broad smiles appeared on both your faces.

After a while the two of you turned to face the sunset again, but your hands were inseparably intertwined between you.

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[mah-t-wordblog]

It's Too Cold For You Here

Tanjiro journeys by himself in a snow storm to his old home, while Nezuko stays and sleeps at Butterfly Mansion. Giyu Tomioka catches sight of him near his home village and follows at a distance to see what he is up to. He watches Tanjiro grieving at his old home for his family, wandering around and sitting in his house like a lost soul. Unable to leave him, he steps in, and eventually convinces Tanjiro to leave the bloodstained place and follow him to a Wisteria House, where the boy finally opens up about his heartbreaking reunion with his family in the dream world and how he left them crying after him and how much he misses his parents, as well as how he had to take his own life so many times to escape. He admits that he hates himself and blames himself for not going home that night and relives the cruel words that his 'dream family' said to him. He admits he relives the whole thing every night and is so exhausted and emotionally beaten he barely eats or sleeps anymore.

The dream world for Tanjiro...I am so sure just about broke him mentally and emotionally. He has not told anyone because it was so painful, so Giyu is the first to learn and I am sure he is inwardly heart broken for the boy, even if he is so stoic and gruff. But he can see how much damage it has done to Tanjiro and because he cares for him, he is concerned.

Maybe during the conversation Tanjiro also opens up and shares things about his dad and mom and siblings so Giyu gets to learn more about his family as well as who Nezuko was as a human.

It would be cool to get a lot of Giyu's inward thoughts on the boy, past, present, and future, as well as what he is thinking while listening to the boy.

Angst comfort fic, with stoic Giyu comforting Tanjiro to the best of his abilities and getting him to eat some supper. Platonic cuddling and sleeping?

Hiii, I don’t know if this is exactly what you want me to write, maybe I made some changes, but I left the main focus as you wanted, I hope you like it anyway 💛💛

It’s too cold for you here

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Gyuu Tomioka was climbing the cold mountain, the air there gave him a headache

It wasn't the first time he visited that area, not really. He had already gone there the first time he met the Kamado twins

The town there seemed bustling, despite the intense cold of the winter that was beginning.

Some people wished him good morning as he passed by, but Gyuu didn't respond to them, because he wasn't interested in talking to other people at all, he had something to resolve.

Shinobu Kochou had informed him that Tanjiro Kamado had disappeared that night, leaving his sister sleeping peacefully in the rooms of the Boboleta Mansion.

Wasn't that common for Tanjiro to disappear like that overnight? Go out without him sister? Run away and abandon everyone?

These questions certainly didn't make sense in his head.

So Gyuu used reason to understand where Tanjiro had gone, and the answer was this mountain

He thought of all the possibilities of what could happen as he climbed through the deep snow.

He stopped in front of a small house, humble, cozy, on top of the mountain.

And he heard a very familiar sound

As he got closer, he realized that the sound was coming from someone crying.

Tomioka's heart accelerated and he ran into the place

Yes, Tanjiro was kneeling on the carpet on the floor. He cried, as if all the scenes he experienced there were happening now

The man felt a pang in his heart, how cruel life was for that little boy.

“Tanjiro-“ Gyuu said

The boy looked back scared, but calmed down when he saw who it was.

“What happened here, Tanjiro?”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't say anything.

Gyuu sighed

“Come here” he extended a hand to help Tanjiro up, but when he pulled the boy, he brought him into a big hug

Tanjiro was a little confused, but relief spread throughout his body, he stopped crying.

"You are hurt?" Gyuu asked, referring to the boy's bloody leg.

“Y-yes” he finally said “I got stuck in some bushes on the way here”

Tanjiro took a few steps back and Gyuu saw that he was limping.

“Come on” Tomioka signaled to Tanjiro “come up here”

The boy did as he was asked, he climbed onto Gyuu's back

And in that position the two descended the mountain

Gyuu really wanted to ask what was happening, why Tanjiro was like this. But would the boy want to tell it? Gyuu doesn't see any reason why someone would want to tell him a secret

But he should try, for the boy's sake

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

Gyuu left Tanjiro alone in a room in the Butterfly Mansion and went to look for help for a moment.

He was afraid of what sadness could do to him

The man ran until he found Shinobu

“Please, Kocho, some medicine” he panted after running so desperately

“Tomioka, what happened?”

“I found him, Tanjiro”

Shinobu opened her eyes wide and ran to her room.

In just a few minutes, Shinobu had prepared bandages and medicine for the boy.

"Are you well?" She asked. Tomioka could see that the fake smile wasn't even on her face, she was worried

“Yes” Tanjiro replied, but without smiling like he always did.

Shinobu looked at Tomioka, she got up and went towards the door

“Tomioka, please come here”

The man did as he was asked

“Please, I fear that Tanjiro is reaching the point of irreversible sadness, talk to him, you are still the one who helped him, the one who allowed him to become who he is today”

Tomioka sighed, he looked away from her, he wanted to help, he really wanted to

“You’re like a big brother” she asked “think of him as Sabito, okay?”

Tomioka was scared, he didn't remember telling Shinobu about his life, but... but...

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

Oh yes, it was on a day like that. Tomioka was found wandering in the mountains looking for the place where Sabito had been buried, he ended up slipping on the snow in the mountains and fell, all the way down the hill.

He remained on the ground, all broken, just waiting for death, when someone came close to him. They were two beautiful women, he remembers, they were Kanae and Shinobu Kochou

They carried him and took him to a beautiful, large house, in the room where they placed him there were several sick people, injured like him.

Then the woman with pink barrettes in her hair approached him.

“What’s your name, hunter?”

Gyuu looked at her, he wasn't a hashira yet, nor was Shinobu, just Kanae

“Gyuu Tomioka”

Kanae sighed

He could see that Shinobu was staring at him, but when he looked at her, she looked away.

“Why were you climbing the mountain, Tomioka?” Kanae asked.

Gyuu didn't respond

The woman seemed worried “it’s okay, if you need anything you can call me”

Then Kanae left the room, leaving Gyuu and Shinobu alone.

A long moment of silence was broken by Shinobu

“Did you know anyone from there?”

Gyuu felt a pang in his heart

"Yes"

The woman looked at him “who?”

Gyuu didn't know why he should tell Shinobu about this, but he felt like he should. Did she make you feel confident? What was that feeling? He barely knew her

"It's a long story…"

"I am interested"

Their gaze met

Gyuu felt hot

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

The feeling that someone cares about you is very good, Gyuu wanted Tanjiro to feel it too

“I’ll take care of him” he said, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

"Thanks"

Gyuu Tomioka entered the room again

Tanjiro was curled up on his bed, lying down, sad. Gyuu sat next to him

“Do you want to talk, Tanjiro?”

The boy sat down “talk about what, sir?” Even sad he was impressively polite

“About why you were on that mountain”

Tanjiro sighed, he covered his face with his hands, Gyuu heard the sound of crying

“No- there’s no need to talk, only if you want to” Gyuu said worriedly

The boy calmed down “I want to talk”

Gyuu looked at him, the more relieved and calm expression, different from the bored and sad one that was always on the hashira's face, made Tanjiro feel calmer and calmer.

“So get started, I’m here to listen.”

Tanjiro said, once he started talking he didn't stop. He told about when his father died, about what Nezuko was like when she was human, about his mother and his brothers, about the day he slept outside and never stopped blaming himself for it, when he discovered that they were dead...

Gyuu really didn't imagine Tanjiro's life was so difficult

Finally, the boy ended by telling about the dream he was subjected to by that inferior omnimoon, the terror he felt at having to take his own life so many times, having to abandon his family even though he knew none of it was real.

“It was torture! Psychological torture, that shitty oni, I hate it! I hate them!” Tanjiro started screaming, getting out of control, the boy never did that, he started hitting the bed hard

“Tanjiro!” Gyuu exclaimed

Tanjiro looked at him, his eyes swollen with tears.

“I know, Tanjiro” the man took one of the boy's hands “I know what it's like to lose everything you have, I've lost it twice myself, I lost my whole world, and it's all my fault”

Tanjiro wiped his eyes “and what did you do?”

“I didn’t let myself forget who I always loved. I haven’t forgotten the sister who protected me” he pointed to the red part of his clothes “and I haven’t forgotten the friend who saved me” he pointed to another part of the clothes, which had colorful patterns

“Do you visit the place of their death?”

“Every day I can, but I'm careful, so I don't fall and hurt myself, like you.”

Tanjiro chuckled, then Gyuu laughed too.

“Thank you, Mr. Tomioka” Tanjiro lowered his head smiling

“I'll always be here for you, boy” Gyuu rubbed a hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair “it's okay to be sad sometimes, right?”

"Right"

Gyuu got up

“Sir, one last thing”

The man turned around “yes?”

“Could you see what Miss Aoi is cooking? It smells soooo good” Tanjiro smiled

Gyuu was surprised by the boy's good mood and started laughing. Tanjiro had never seen Gyuu laugh so much, and he thought it was one of the best sights he had ever seen.

Yes, Gyuu was like a teacher to Tanjiro, but they were great friends, because their lives were never that different, right?

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[autisticlee]

I have realized I need more friends, especially a specific type of friend (chill, positive, very nice and gentle, shares interest in my interests, etc) so I've been putting a lot of time and effort and energy into trying to make a new friend, but I don't think it's working D: I genuinely don't know how to do it. I used to ask people if we can be friends but learned thats not correct and even got called creepy for it before...so i'm just exhausting myself for no reason because nothing is being reciprocated the way I want or need it to be.

i'm trying to learn about the person and tailoring my scripts to match them and what they seem to like about people they are friends with. but so far i'm not getting much reaction outside of general kind acknowledgment that all random strangers get. i'm trying so hard not to ramble or rant about anything or be "too negative" like i've been called many times for simply stating a related/relatable fact about myself. i'm trying to ask questions more questions like ive been told to do. i'm saying nice and positive things whenever I get the chance like i always do. i'm doing all the things people have advised me to do when ive asked advice, but it still feels like i'm looking through a window and not allowed to walk through the door! but see everyone else getting invited inside. I genuinely don't know what to do and how to make it better 🥲

when I look back in the past and how I made friends or starter talking to people, it always came from trauma bonding....often it would start from or be carried along by a shared interest, but one of the dominating factors was always trauma bonding and ramling and ranting at each other about the trauma we have gone through that relates to each other. I felt like I needed it at the time and felt like it helped, but now i've reached a point where it's too exhausting to go through repeated exposure to trauma stories and reexperiencing ny own traumas. plus it usually ends in failure and me adding more trauma to my plate because they have issues and lash them out at me, or decide they are upset that I have my own issues they trigger, and I do not want to do that anymore.

I don't want to befriend people through or to trauma bond. I don't want to befriend people who only want to talk about negative things or people who bring out those things in me. I want some positive and chill and fun friends. but I genuinely do not know how else to make friends. I don't know how to do it right. I don't know how to talk to people correctly. I don't know how to do any of this without trauma dumping/ l listening to trauma dumping and using that as the gateway to form friendships.

I don't know how to have friends that don't share same interests either, but I have realized that's only part of it. that part is fine I think. maybe that's the normal part. (it's my autistic intensity that's the "not normal" part and losing friends as soon as one of us loses that interest) but how do I befriend someone positively off of similar interests only, and not drop my dark lore or avoid letting them drop their dark lore and using that as the bridge? I simply can't figure out how to connect with people in any other way than the whole "I understand what you're going through/you're not alone/I'm here for you/this is a safe space you can come to" thing I tried building up my whole life. but that's only been exhausting and leads to dead ends.

I don't know how to form strong and positive connections with other humans, despite following every tutorial and advice I could find. I even tried heavily masking and learned I'm just no good at it, and I can't figure out if i've acted myself out of a personality, or if it's just a dissociative disorder causing me to have like 20 different ones (working with therapist now who is evaluating me for osdd/did because she says my dissociative levels are concerning. and honestly i feel like part if not all of it is due to my negative people experiences....so i really need positive ones!) i've been trying to keep all my rambles and rants and negative thoughts and feelings to this blog only. i'm not here on this blog to make friends. this is purely for me and myself and I. if anyone relates they are welcome to reply/comment or send an ask and share, but i'm not going to pursue a friendship over it.

I only want to accept positive and chill and fun friendships over my special interests and smaller interests (I have a whole other blog for just those) BUT I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO IT. NOTHING ANYONE TELLS ME WORKS. i'm trying so hard to bond over interests with people but just cannot form any connections no matter how hard I try. it remains me being the only one to ever reach out and give (time/energy/attention/etc) while they can easily have 4747373 other friends and people they enjoy and care about and talk to and hang out with. so I don't think it's them. it has to be me. (I've had people saying it's not me, it's the people I try to talk to and I need to find other people. or even "the right people" but i'm not told how to do that or what it means. and i've spent years flipping through people like clothes on a rack and it's so tiring!!!!!)

don't know know what to do or how to do it, but need human interaction and genuine strong connection and can't force self stop craving that 😭😭😭😭😭