#compared to the constant isolation

[jamiebluewind]

My friend @winterpower98 is going to school to become an ASL interpreter, so we've been practicing together for a few months. I mostly just checked her signing and didn't sign myself because I was slower and didn't want to take up her valuable practice time clumsily trying to sign. Still, I intend to learn if for nothing else than having a way to communicate when I had a migraine.

Then I got sick.

I'm honestly not sure what's wrong with me, but in early January, I got a bad cough, asthma issues, and other various NASTY symptoms (leaving out to not get too tmi). The symptoms got worse quickly and I ended up at doctors and urgent cares and ERs. They found that I didn't have any of the major contagious things, but still my lungs were crap, my voice was nearly gone (just a whisper), and I was badly malnourished and dehydrated. One very scary phone call from a relative and two days of forcing my raw voice to work well enough to talk to police and relatives later, I lost my voice completely (save for little squeaks and rumbles). That was six weeks ago.

Winter and I didn't practice ASL the first two or three weeks I was sick (and I was honestly in no shape to do it anyway). Being mute was... okay at first. Annoying but manageable. But then as time went on, it got ROUGH. Being trapped in my own head and unable to convey things in real time took a toll on my mental health that I honestly wasn't expecting. Imaging being unable to even laugh or make frustrated noises or make sounds when you're crying hard and having a panic attack? It was hell! I couldn't got to therapy, see a doctor by myself (had to write a script for whomever came with me), contact services and doctors that didn't have messaging/email (they'd call back anyway despite me saying that I was completely unable to talk), tell people what I needed during a panic attack or sensory overload, or get my intrusive thoughts out (I say the out loud and work through them to see they aren't logical). When one doctor got really frustrated with me and proceeded to insult and lecture me for a solid 30 minutes (in front of my other friend who got very close to losing her temper), there was no way to report it because I had to CALL to place a complaint. I was limited to typing on my phone when I needed to communicate and even THAT was slow and not always possible (can't type during a coughing fit or if I had to leave my phone charging). Getting people's attention to notice me or read a message was also difficult, so I had to sit quietly AND patiently AND ignored so much of the time that I eventually broke down crying.

Eventually, I started doing a little ASL again. I wasn't expecting how hard it would be to sign things when I had only watched before. My movements were slow and clunky, sometimes I did the wrong sign, and I could only "talk" to one person, but the growing pains were worth the feeling of ACTUALLY communicating again. It's only been a few weeks, but I can already express my emotions/frustration and convey simple concepts during a conversation (instead of typing and having the conversation move on before I finish or just not feeling like my words were worth the effort on top of breaking the flow of a conversation). Yesterday, my bestie/roommate decided to start practicing the ASL alphabet and asked for a list of words I used the most so she could understand me too.

ASL has giving me back some of my autonomy. With a few signs and some finderspelling, I was able to tell Winter that I needed to eat, wanted leftovers, there was a bowl in the fridge, and to please add water (easier to swallow with my irritated throat). I can ask how people are, tell them how I'm doing, or just be a little goofy because I want to (like quoting NADDPOD and telling my friends "fuck you, I love you, eat a rat").

While being unable to talk for 6 weeks (and limited a bit before that) is nothing compared to the experiences of the deaf/Deaf, mute, and nonverbal communities, it made me realize how hard it is to navigate the world when your speech is impaired. It also made me develop a new appreciation for ASL. Originally, learning ASL was a novelty to me that might come in handy when I had a hemiplegic migraine (makes it hard to talk), but it was mostly to help Winter in her studies. Now it just feels... important. Like something more people should learn, be aware of, and accomodate for.

Tldr; Being unable to talk for over 6 weeks (and probably many more weeks after that) made me realize how important being able to communicate is to mental health, how society is not made to accomodate people with limited to no verbal communication ability, why learning ASL is so important, some of the struggles that people with limited to no verbal communication go through, and the fact that I am privileged in a way that I've never considered before.

[herpsandbirds]

Got any Devil's Hole Pupfish and/or their less specialized relatives? I love the frustration they're causing land developers lol

Oh I have some Pupfish stuff for you...

GREAT NEWS!  - Recovery efforts are paying off for the critically endangered Devils Hole pupfish. 

This past April, scientists counted 175 pupfish!  The last time numbers were this high during a spring count was 22 years ago. The fish are in “remarkable condition and very active,” according to Nevada Department of Wildlife  supervisory fish biologist Brandon Senger.  Devils Hole, located within Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge in Southern Nevada, is a water-filled, geothermal cave system containing carbonate-rich and oxygen-poor water. Water conditions here remain at a constant 93°F in deeper reaches of the cave, and it’s the only natural habitat for Devils Hole pupfish.  “It’s just such a different species and it is remarkable that it has managed to survive,“ said our fish biologist Michael Schwemm. "It lacks pelvic fins due to the extreme conditions such as low food resources and high temperature, adapting to habitat conditions which have evolved over time.”

The story: http://ow.ly/nhz050JaB07

Pahrump Poolfish (Empetrichthys latos), Desert National Wildlife Refuge, NV, USA

Word of the day: refugium (ree·few·jee·um), or an area in which a population of organisms can survive through a period of unfavorable conditions. Here on the refuge, the critically endangered Pahrump Poolfish lives exclusively in a refugium. This small, guppy-like fish is extinct in the wild, after its original habitat was depleted due to groundwater pumping in the 1970s. You can find the refugium along the trails behind the Corn Creek Visitor Center.

Photographs: J. Contois / USFWS

Saving a Rare Desert Fish on the Brink of Extinction 

Pahrump Poolfish (Empetrichthys latos) are being kept at the Nevada state fish hatchery as restoration efforts are under way to restore their home habitat.

There is a rare species of desert fish fighting for its survival in a fresh water pond in the desert landscape of southern Nevada – the Pahrump poolfish. According to biologists monitoring the tiny fish, one of the last remaining populations of the endangered Pahrump poolfish, Empetrichthys latos, is at an alarmingly low number, below 1,000, compared to the 10,000 recorded in 2015. Throughout the month of October 2016, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist James Harter and Nevada Department of Wildlife (NDOW) biologist Kevin Guadalupe are rescuing the Pahrump poolfish from Lake Harriett at Spring Mountain Ranch State Park outside of Las Vegas, Nevada, and moving them to the NDOW’s fish hatchery at the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. The poolfish are being taken to the hatchery to protect the species from extinction…

Read more: https://www.fws.gov/cno/newsroom/featured/2016/Pahrump_poolfish/

Photo Credit: Enrique Villar/USFWS

The Phenotypic Plasticity of Death Valley’s Pupfish

Desert fish are revealing how the environment alters development to modify body shape and behavior

by Sean C. Lema

Despite variety, most of the surface of Death Valley is dead … a land of jagged salt pillars, crackling and tortured crusts of mud, sunburnt gravel bars the color of rust, rocks and boulders of metallic blue naked even of lichen. As one of the world’s harshest desert regions, Death Valley is a land of eroding badlands, scorching alluvial fans, and barren flats of mud and salt. Yet hidden in remote corners of Death Valley live the desert pupfishes—several related species that survive in an archipelago of permanent water habitats scattered in a sea of desert. Death Valley’s pupfishes inhabit isolated springs, streams and marshes that are remnants of the region’s milder climate less than 20,000 years ago. Since that cooler and wetter time, pupfishes in this region have evolved from a common ancestor into nine closely related species and subspecies, with each taxon living in full geographic isolation from the others. Death Valley’s pupfishes are thus a little like the well-known Darwin’s finches of the Galapagos Islands, in that they offer an opportunity to watch the process of evolution in action…

(read more: American Scientist)

photographs: Sean C. Lema and NPS

[chondrichthyes-x-mantodea]

I hope this is fine with the OP, but I wanted to make my own seperate post about this subject.

That is why I feel as if misogyny is so rampant. I feel as if misogyny is truly the backbone of society. It has the most equal ratio between the oppressor and oppressed, plus the nature of our sexes being to work together for procreation. Therefore, men did their best to separate women, to alienate them from one another. Many women feel more connected to the male of their race or ethnicity when compared to a woman of another race or ethnicity. Many women are taught to be hostile to other women. We see this a lot with the constant attacks on white women instead of white PEOPLE. White women can be very racist and uphold white male supremacy (another facet of alienation of women. White women want to be white men's best version of "woman" and, therefore, attack WOC) but it confuses me why I see white women as a sole demographic in most cases. It feels as if its an excuse to morally surrender a group of women to leftist men without hurting the feelings of the white leftist men who also oppress minorities and women. It's also a way to appease men who, despite characteristics they are oppressed for, still hate white women on the basis of them being women. I'm not saying white women are innocent little babies, but my point is that women are taught to attack women on the basis of womanhood to appease males of all kinds. We constantly downplay an aspect of our female experience because to us it is just innate. Feminism, to most who are more liberal feminists, is just about becoming a humanely treated animal that a man owns. To identify with him but as a subset of him. If women started to identify with each other across race, sexuality, and disability, men know we would overthrow their control. Humans were meant to be a matriarchy, so they isolated women from their fellow leaders.

[writers-potion]

Let's Scare Your Readers!

Combine the techniques below with the techniques for building suspense to give your readers a palm-sweating sensation!

Darkness

If absolute darkness doesn't make sense in your story, aim for semi-darkness: dusk, a single lantern/candle, heavily curtained windows, a thick canopy of trees, etc. Flickering lights that create confusing shadows can also be effective.

Let the darkness pool gradually around your MC. Show the night or fog rolling in, the camp-fire subsiding, or the candles burn down one by one.

Examples:

The candle sputtered. The light wavered.

The lamp cast its smoky light on the brick walls.

The night was silent, but for the dry rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees.

Sound

Of all the senses, the sense of hearing serves best to create excitement and fear.

the clacking of the villain's boots on the floor tiles, the ticking of the wall clock, a dog barking outside, the roaring of a distant motor, a door slamming somewhere in the house, water dripping from the ceiling, the chair squeaking, the whine of the dentist's drill, the scraping of the knife on a whetstone, a faraway siren wailing the heroine's own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When the surroundings are dark, your MC will grow to be more aware of the surrounding noise, even if it's not relevant to the plot.

Chill

Make it uncomfortably cold for the MC, and your readers will shiver with them.

powercut cutting off the heating, nightfall naturally bringing in lower temperatures.

winter, evening, a cool breeze that chills everything, survivors running our of fuel, the ceiling fan is over-active, stone builindg/caves/sbuterranean chambers tend to be cold.

Describe how the cold pinpricks the MC's skin, stunting their thinking and making them shiver.

The opposite can also be effective: turn up the temperature using a stove, an overheated motor, or the sweltering sun to make the MC sweat.

Isolation

This is a common technique: let the MC face the monster alone with no external help. It's also easier to limit the resources and escape routes available for the MC.

an abandoned factory, remote mountaintop, the depth of an unexplored cave.

It can also be more everyday locations: a construction site, the sewer, a malfunctioning bathroom.

Meet the Monster

When describing the threat, spread out your descriptions so that (1) the scene has constant action (2) you have material to build up later.

Good details to show:

hands, fingers, nails, talons, claws

the sound of the voice, growl, roar

the smile, teeth

the texture of skin, fur, scales.

Get Visceral

Never tell your readers that the MC is scared. Describe the fright using these physical effects:

the skin crawling, breath stalling, scalp pricking, clenching of the chest, stomach curling, heart thudding, sweat tricking down, clogged throat, pulse in the ears, cold sweat, chills up/down the spine, stomach knotting, breathless, etc.

The Gory Bits

Instead of describing everything, limit yourself to particular details, keeping overall description short. Non-stop gore doesn't shock - its bores.

Create a contrast: the child's mutilated corpse still clutches the doll. The brains from the baby's plt skull spill across the fluffy pink blanket.

Use similes, comparing gruesome buts to something from ordinary life. The intestines look like spaghetti in tomato sauce. The blood spilling from the mouth looks like lipstick.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content,  become a Writing Wizard 

[aphroditesmoon]

smoke signals (part iii)

lighthouse keeper!sevika x selkie!reader

summary: sevika is content with her life, the loneliness that comes with her job is inevitable. but then one day, as she reaches the peak of mundanity, almost turning into insanity, you appeared. cold, quiet, clueless, sea-sent you, like a wish fulfilment for her.

warnings: selkie!reader, reader has selective mutism in beginning.

a/n: enjoy my loves 🦭🩷

taglist: @lilredbird101 , @djstinkyfartz

wc: 4k

part 1 part 2

---

Sevika has always compared herself to a burning house. In certain perspectives, she is a tragedy, a collection of disappointing failure that is continuous. And for as long as she's lived, there has been this constant question of; "Who lit the match?"

Was it her parents? The ongoing traumatic experience that befelled her? Was it her own hand pouring the oil over her head?

All she was ever sure of, is that it started a long time ago. And that the burning persisted for so long to the point that she didn't want it to stop. Because she wouldn't know what to do with the ashes and the broken messes of her mind once it dies out.

The suffering prevails. Even when it doesn't seem like it, it is there. Through her self inflicted isolation, through alcoholism.

Because that is all she is sure of within herself. Knowing your fate and accepting it can't be harder than accepting that there are parts of you that you are not sure of. Because if she can't be sure of herself, if she listened to the voice that maybe she didn't know herself as much as she thought she did, then she didn't know anything.

And nothing is more terrifying than the unknown.

So here she is, doing what she thinks she must, being who she thought she is.

A middle aged, mechanical handed lighthouse keeper with an alcohol addiction and a gambling history, storing the rest of her life in this tall building, talking to seals

because that's the only conversation she believes that will never be used against her. And living alone because that's the only way people can't hurt her.

She survived the pain by imagining that it was necessary. That someway, somehow, somewhere, there was a version of her that isn't as fucked as this one, living the life she could've had, loving the way she wished she could love, all because she was here, suffering the consequences for her, taking the fall, for her.

Sevika is a realistic, logical person. How funny it is, that this imagination, this hopeful belief, stored deep in her chest, is the only reason she's able to look at herself in the mirror, to not break the glass at the sights of her scars, the healed bruise around her eyes that she can still see, even when no one else can.

The versions of her before she had been truly worn down, broken into pieces so small, you begin to lose them everywhere.

Knowing pain is better than not knowing, she tells herself constantly.

And yet now, Sevika has been faced with the first thing she can't be sure of; you.

You swam your way into her dull daily life and she doesn't know what else to do except to yield to whatever comes after.

She thought she could handle a few weeks with a stranger until she could send you back to land and in the hands of the enforcers to handle, but it's only been four weeks and she's already so on edge, reminded of why she chose the solitary life in the first place.

Dealing with you is like dealing with a cat. You have no understanding of personal boundaries and are never affected by being reprimanded.

You go through her kitchen and leave a mess, you go through her stuff out of pure curiosity and insist on following her around while she's doing work like a lost dog, poking around on her mechanical arm. You ask questions while being mute, through the raise of your brows, the slight frown you'd give her when you're confused.

The judgmental stare you wear when you wonder why she does things the way she does.

Because it's just the way things are, she wanted to say. But you wouldn't understand. And she's not talking about language.

Sometimes she's sure that you can understand every annoyed word that escapes her lips and is only acting like you can't. And she can't tell if this is genuinely how you are or if you're acting up out of boredom or distrust.

You didn't really have a hobby, or at least one you could practise in this small space of a tower. She had tried giving you some old books she had from her childhood and she'd catch you looking through them at times, but with the speed you were flipping those pages with, she doubted that you were actually reading.

This evening thankfully, she's finally found a moment for herself without you. You were in her room. Sleeping or lounging, she assumed.

Sevika just finished writing up the details needed in her logbook, fortunately there wasn't much to fix up since there hasn't been much sailing these couple of weeks, but she was still relieved to get it over with.

She exits from her office, leading herself down the stairs towards her kitchen. Three knocks on the door, and then she spoke: "I'm coming in." She stated before pushing the door open.

You're sitting by the window again, hair being blown by the subtle wind as you lost yourself completely in the calling of the sea on the eve.

This was another thing about you she's come to understand about, your obsession with the waters.

She had seen you spend hours by the window or outside just looking into the vast waves of deep and tranquil ocean, just observing every little movement it makes as if you wanted to jump and live underneath.

Even right now, it was easy to see that whatever the ocean is doing to you, it's vital.You especially loved it when it's raining, thunderstorms and all. it's almost like it rejuvenated you.

Sevika wondered if she had accidentally been holding her breath up until now. She coughed out loudly, breaking the silence and serenity you were just in. You flinched as your head snapped in her direction, surprised.

You're wearing her favourite shirt as you don't exactly have clothes on your own, it dwarfs you completely, but you didn't seem to mind. In fact, you never seem to care much about your appearance, your hair, as it is now, is often wild and unruly, like beastly waves of the sea.

Awkward silence filled the air between you two. "Hey." She said dumbly.

She took a few steps in and was about to bring up dinner until she saw her sketchbook, laid open on her desk by her bedside.

Sevika stops immediately and frowns. "Were you going through my things again?"

Receiving no response from you, she moves towards her notebook, grabbing it possessively and checking the pages. "What did I tell you about-" Sevika's hands froze at the sight of the ripped pages from her book.

Her neck snaps towards you, who is already standing and getting ready to run out. "No." She grabbed your arm before you could move past her and forced you down on the bed.

You growled deeply like a rabid dog, but not in an angry manner, annoyed moreso. "Sit down." She commanded, still gripping your arm. You tried to get up and pull away resulting in her having her arms tangled over your neck, pushing you back down.

"I said no!" She yelled before finally being able to sit you down. You didn't take kindly on her aggression and bit on her arm as strongly as you could, causing her to shove you away with a loud yelp, sending you down across the other side of the bed.

Sevika caresses her arm as she regains her composure while you stand back up from the ground.

She turns to close the bedroom door before turning back to you.

"You know, I let you stay here for free-" She begins. You roll your eyes at her, having heard this speech before.

"If I wanted to leave you out to drown, I could. All I had to do was kick your small ass back into the water and pretend none of this ever happened, but I didn't." She crosses her arms together as you turn to face the open window, not willing to look at her.

"Turn away, I don't care. I know you understand me."

"You know, I really don't know what your problem is, but I have tried to be patient with your childish theatrics for two weeks now. You go through my stuff without permission, you steal my things and keep them as your own, and you follow me around like some dog, and the only reason I'm tolerating it all is for the fact that once I drop you in town to the enforcers, I won't ever have to see you again." At the mention of the enforcers, you whirled your head to lock eyes with her, visibly betrayed.

"I even sit on the sorry ass chair downstairs so you can have my bed, and I'm fine with that. But this is the last straw. You invaded my privacy and stole my drawings, do you know how rude that is?"

The irritation has left your features, but your expression is still unreadable.

"Give them back." She opens her palm to you, waiting in expectation.

You squint your eyes, it's something you do when you're deep in thought, she noticed. As much as you try to keep up your mysterious persona, you are too much of a curious, empathetic soul to truly be unreadable.

"Please." Sevika tries again.

You gave her a long stare before you began climbing on top of the bed and digging out the ripped pages from inside the pillow covers.

Wrinkly in your hands, you slip them into her hand, letting your fingers brush over the wrist before you walk past her to leave the room. She could hear your soft footsteps making your way downstairs in the dark tower, getting more faint each second.

She waited until she couldn't hear you anymore before opening the two papers in her hand, looking down at her own sketch of the friendly seals she had seen weeks ago.

After folding it and stuffing it back on the notebook, Sevika sat on the bed, contemplating nothing and everything. It almost felt as if she had so much more to say to you, but at the same time nothing. She's been so used to putting her own mind on autopilot that processing feelings seemed too much.

She fell asleep after an hour, and when she opened her eyes hours later, the lights in the room were shut off and her body had been covered by her blanket, so she ceased any upcoming thoughts and fell back into slumber.

---

You have lived your whole life feeling like an imposter. You knew you belonged to the sea, but there was this deep craving to be more. It almost felt like destiny. And it's not like you think you're meant to have more than anyone else, because who do you think you are? Demanding for more.

Is it bad to be holding life by the collar and beg for there to be more? Because if this is all life had to offer you, you were sure that you would die slowly from the inside.

You aren't really sure what you're doing right now, giving this poor woman a hard time, living in her shadows, trying to understand her for the sake of understanding yourself.

But today, through her drawing of you, another form of you, was the first time you ever saw yourself through another person's eyes, and it felt good to be seen. To be remembered, to exist as more than just a concept or a myth.

You didn't mean to completely cross her boundary as a person, and maybe you deserved the anger she had let out today, but you weren't upset, because you had finally understood what it was you were looking for in other people, and in yourself.

You've been searching for satisfaction in short-lived excitements and unfulfilling experiences. Wanting things is easy, but they always fade as soon as you manage to catch them in your hands.

What you needed was something you could learn every angle and nook of it and never get bored of. Something worth staying for.

You're not truly sure if Sevika is that thing, but all you could do now is to trust what feels good.

Sevika had overslept, you were glad for it. That woman holds herself to an impossible standard even when her schedule is gonna use god forbid she doesn't follow her routine.

But you knew she needed the rest. She had let you take the bed for two weeks now, the comfort of the sheets must be comforting for her.

To make it up for the disturbance you've given her, you had taken it on yourself to restock her fridge with fresh fish for future meals. Her unconsciousness had provided you ample time to go on a swim and capture the fishes for her. If the little surprise you prepared for her wouldn't put a smile on her face, you're sure that this will.

You almost went as far as to prepare breakfast yourself, but then decided that you have not mastered the kitchen tools well enough to try.

You were outside against the railing again when you heard the small sound of chairs moving. Turning around, you're met with a dishevelled Sevika, taking you in with sleepy eyes.

"You should've woke me up earlier," was the first thing she said to you.

You smiled in response, because it's such a Sevika thing to say.

Before she could react, you pulled inside her by her arm, heading straight to the fridge and opening it.

A shitload of cold, raw fish fills every possible space to the brim. Sevika makes a confused noise, looking back to back from the fridge to you, her eyes crinkling together in an adorable, confused manner.

"Where'd you get this, did someone send these while I was asleep?" You shrugged uncaringly and pursed your lips close.

Sevika knelt down, pulling some of the fish out to check if they're real. "These could last us a whole month." She mumbled as she placed them back in and stood back up.

"Seriously, how did you get these?" She asks again, leaning against the closed fridge.

Your expression remained vague and you smiled, enjoying the pleasantly shocked reaction she had. She sighed at the expected response and you could've sworn that it had sounded less aggravated than usual.

"Well, fish for breakfast?" She jokes as she begins to prepare cooking, watching from the corner of her eyes as you take a seat against your very wet coat, dripping slightly on the floor as it stays hung on the chair.

---

When Sevika woke up, she had this odd, rare feeling in her chest; guilt.

The last time she ever felt bad for anything was when she had accidentally stepped on a dog's tail. People aren't worth feeling guilt over.

She's ashamed to admit that you were the only thing on her mind as she opened her eyes today.

It felt good to be on her own bed, she'll admit, but everything else from her head to her bones had felt wrong.

She kept thinking of last night, wondering how to fix the situation, and the fact that she cared so much about it frustrated herself. She wasn't in the wrong, why should she be this bothered?

As she shrugged herself off of the covers, Sevika took her time coming downstairs, the drowsiness of the afternoon air still lingering over her as she padded down the staircase gently.

Falling off of her routine usually upsetted her. Yet for some reason today with the sudden feeling of remorse taking over her, she only managed to muster up a slight disappointment that barely lasted a minute before she turned her thoughts back to you.

Sevika could guess where you'd be, and she knew she was right when she finally entered the kitchen and found you with your back turned to her as you let the blinding sun shine its golden light over your face.

She could only see the right side of your face as you tilted your face up, but it was enough to take the air out of her lungs for a solid second.

Sevika isn't blind, she knows a pretty face when she sees one. But you were more than just pretty. Your beauty was almost inhuman. You had the kind of face that people would pay to paint.

It wasn't long before you noticed her behind you. and just like most of the time when she's caught admiring you, she's never quite sure what to say.

"You should've woke me up earlier," She decided to say in the end. She expected to see resentment in your eyes for what had occurred last night, but you had bad smiles instead. And that only worsened whatever was blooming in her chest.

Sevika wasn't prepared for you to take her hand and pull her towards the fridge so suddenly, and she definitely wasn't prepared for you to open it and present a fridge full of fresh raw fish.

What the fuck?

Is this some weird fucked up dream where a beautiful angel descends down to gift her a shit ton of fish?

Sevika tries acquiring you on where you had gotten these and fails to receive any clarity. She would push the topic further if she wasn't so hungry, so for now the topic is on pause.

Once the two of you finished eating, she let you continue your daydreaming outside, sunbathing and occasionally growling at the sight of swimming fishes in the weird nature you usually do while she does the dishes and sweeps the already clean floor as per her routine.

Sevika stole glances towards you the whole time of course, unable to focus on anything else even if she wanted to.

Throughout the whole time, her brain is ransacked all over, writing up sentences to say to you. She had never been good at words, unfortunately. But she figured you were worth trying for.

I'm sorry you provoked me? No, that is extremely provoking in itself. I'm sorry I manhandled you but in my defense, I don't think anyone would know how to handle you in that situation. Well, that's worse.

Sevika uncaringly shoved the broom against the wall after she was dome sweeping. Letting herself have these little tantrums like slamming things and stomping her feet is how she restrains herself from returning to her past of violence that consists of wall punchings and body slammings. Small moments of expression that lets her acknowledge how far she's come so she can say to herself; "see, I can be matured if I want to, the old me would've broken that broom in half."

But even the light shove made her resent herself even more, she didn't want you to ever see that side of her.

It confused her, the way you made her feel, the last thing she needed was some girl making her feel self conscious of the way she behaved. Sevika is rough, rude, and boring. And the tiny sense of wanting to be more than that in your presence is irritating.

She leaned against the small chair as she watched you with your head bowed down, frowning at the waves like you're trying to explode the ground beneath it.

In moments like this, she feels as if she both knows you and knows nothing at the same time. She could wake up and instinctively be able to tell where you are and understand the meaning of the faces you make when you're trying to talk to her without actually talking. And yet, she has no idea where you're from, how you wound up in the middle of the sea, and why you don't seem to care that you're in the middle of the sea, away from your home.

Are you a nomad? The theory had crossed her mind. When she had asked you where you were from, you circled the entire map, and at first she thought of it as a joke. But knowing you better now, she doesn't think you were lying.

You adapt to your surroundings as easy and quick as an animal would, you growl and hiss instead of yell or speak like humans do, and she knows you're not actually mute because she's heard your melodious laugh before, during times where you didn't notice her lurking from behind.

There is childlike wonder and curiosity in the way you approach new and strange concepts and things, but she's witnessed the deep grief in your eyes before to know that you must've lived a longer life than she could imagine.

Sevika smiled to herself when she saw you clicking your tongue at the sighting of another fish, and that was another thing she's confused about. What is it with you and damn fishes? She doesn't have it in herself to figure this one out, so she only shook her head and sighed in defeat.

You must've heard her because your head twisted to face you and whatever vexation you once held for the sea creatures, vanished instantly.

You lightly tilted your head in question, Sevika fought the urge to bite her lip and spoke; "we need to talk."

She moved to the other side of the table, letting you sit on the nearest chair and pushed down the burning feeling in her throat so she could properly arrange the words in her brain.

"I would like to apologize." Sevika stated and paused to see if you understood her, you blew air out of your mouth and looked away for a moment.

"I might've overreacted last night. And I am still upset about the drawing, but I shouldn't have grabbed you like that." You looked back to her and nodded in understanding, accepting her apology.

That should do it, Sevika thought. The tension returned, breeding in air that separated you. None of you made any motion to leave or move.

"I- I guess..." Sevika stuttered, "I'm just not used to being around someone else. I haven't been in anyone's company for almost a year, I mean actually living around people. So my people skills are a bit...rusty." You let a small grin escape through your lips while scrunching your nose, agreeing with her words.

"And if I'm going to be honest, I think being around you is bringing out parts of me I didn't know exist." Where did that come from? Sevika's not sure, but once she started, she couldn't stop.

"There are things about myself that I believe are better left buried, and you just happened to push my buttons enough for them to spill out and make me begin wondering again. And for someone who's lived their whole life repressing those parts, the worst thing they can do is start hoping and wondering again."

She wasn't sure what it was, but something had shifted in your gaze and your jaw tensed.

"Like, I wonder what it's like... to be known as something other than cold and reclusive. Or, I wonder if I'm not as faithless as I thought I was because sometimes, when you piss me off, or you talk to fishes or help me do my chores, If there is something between us that's worth believing in."

Because as much as I act like I don't want you around, I wonder if I can go back to being alone after this. She doesn't say that part aloud.

More words threatened to spill out, but Sevika held back. She had said too much already. Things she never let herself think about for too long.

Her mouth opens and closes again, unable to decide what the right thing to say is now.

You don't even blink, weirdly enough.

But then your own mouth opens, and the soft sounds of syllables mesh together as you tell her; "I understand."

Sevika's eyes widened. "You understand?"

You nodded and patted your chest with two fingers. In here, you don't say, but she understood you two. Because both of you have made it way past the language barrier.

"Okay." Sevika breathed out in relief, or anxiousness. "Okay."

"What I said before, about us- I didn't mean it like-" Sevika felt the need to justify what she had said but was cut off when you suddenly rose uo and walked to the kitchen utensil drawer and pulled out something from the inside.

You returned to your seat with a folded piece of paper and passed it to her frok across the table. "What's this?" Sevika muttered and opened it.

She wasn't really sure what she was looking at. Well, that's actually a lie, she knew what it was. It was a very...unique, drawing...of Sevika herself. She could tell because of the small scar drawn under her eye.

"Wow." She lifted the drawing up to take a getter look at it and had to cringe in order to not laugh in your face. "It's um...it's me."

You nodded and laid back against the chair, feeling proud to have made her speechless.

Sevika folded it back and slid it into her breast pocket. "I will cherish it with my life." She says to gritted teeth, grinning widely, and she had meant every word.

[loganhowlettsmybf]

logan finally seeing you again after he thinks you died many years ago but you were being held hostage for experiments

Echoes of the past

word count: 1,5k

warnings: deception of grief, mention of abduction and torture

logan gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. the glass was almost empty, a few swigs left, but enough to blur the edges of his relentless memories. it didn’t help. nothing did. not the liquor, not the fights, not even the passage of time. years had passed since he lost you, and the pain never dulled. you had been taken from him, ripped away by forces darker than anything he'd ever known. they had broken into the place you called home, leaving nothing behind but a trace of your blood.

he had searched everywhere, for years, for a hint, a clue, anything that might lead him to you. but time after time, his efforts met dead ends, and after years of failure, he resigned himself to the cruelest reality: you were gone. dead.

that was supposed to be the end of it. that was supposed to be the closure that allowed him to move on. but he couldn’t. the nightmares never stopped. the ghosts of what you shared together haunted every quiet moment, every breath. and the bottle of whiskey in his hand was just another failed attempt to drown out the echoes of your laughter.

but something had changed. a lead—something tangible—surfaced, out of nowhere, dropped into his lap by a mutant with telepathic powers. "she’s alive," the voice had said in his mind. "she’s still out there."

at first, logan didn’t believe it. he couldn’t let himself believe it. but the mutant had given him coordinates, a remote facility in the mountains where you were supposedly held. logan couldn’t risk ignoring it. and so he went, the last shred of hope dragging him through hell and back.

————————————————————————

the wind howled through the dense trees as logan scaled the side of the mountain. his body moved with a singular purpose, his senses heightened by desperation. he reached the facility, a hulking, abandoned bunker and smashed through the gates without a second thought. inside, the air was stale and cold. the place reeked of rot and death, but logan pushed on, the scent of you pulling him deeper.

he tore through doors and guards alike, the claws in his hands slicing through steel and flesh with ease. he could hear screams in the distance, the final cries of those who had kept you here, and it only fueled his rage. they had taken you from him, stolen years of your life. they were going to pay.

finally, logan reached a door, thicker than the others, with heavy locks that screamed of secrets too dangerous to escape. he tore it down without hesitation, and what he found inside made his heart stop.

you were there, crumpled on the floor, shackled and broken, your body battered and bruised from years of captivity. the sight of you was like a punch to his gut. you looked so fragile, so small compared to the vibrant person you had once been. but the worst part was your eyes, empty and hollow, a shell of the person he had loved.

logan fell to his knees beside you, his breath caught in his throat. "is it really you?" he whispered, voice cracked with disbelief.

you flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking back against the cold floor as though you expected more pain to come. you didn’t recognize him. not at first. how could you? years of isolation and torment had twisted your reality, left you in a constant state of fear. but then, something in his voice, in the way he said your name, sparked a faint memory.

"logan?" your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. you blinked up at him, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"it’s me, darlin’," he choked out, his hands hovering over your form, unsure of where to touch, how to comfort. "i’m here. i’ve got you. i’ve got you now."

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as the realization hit you. after all these years, after everything they had done to you, logan was here. he was real. but the pain, the fear, the trauma—it all came crashing down on you at once, and you broke.

"i thought… i thought you were dead," you sobbed, your body shaking with the weight of it all. "i thought i was dead."

logan pulled you into his arms, careful of your injuries but desperate to hold you close. "i thought you were gone too," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "i looked for you… god, i looked for you everywhere. i’m so sorry i couldn’t find you sooner."

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his jacket as though he might disappear at any moment. "they… they did things to me, logan. they…"

"i know," he said softly, his voice trembling. "i know. but you’re safe now. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again."

you cried into his chest, years of torment pouring out in a flood of tears that wouldn’t stop. and logan held you, his own tears mixing with yours as he tried to soothe you, tried to take away your pain. but he knew he couldn’t. the scars they had left on you ran deeper than anything he could heal. all he could do was be there for you, hold you tight, and promise that you’d never have to face this alone again.

————————————————————————

the journey back was a blur. logan carried you out of that place, away from the horrors that had kept you imprisoned for so long. he didn’t stop until he found a safe house, far away from everything.

days passed in a strange, delicate rhythm. logan stayed by your side through every nightmare, every flashback, every moment when the weight of what you had been through became too much to bear. he was patient, gentle in a way that felt foreign to him.

at first, you barely spoke, still trapped in the silence that had been forced upon you for so long. but logan didn’t push. he stayed close, making sure you knew he was there whenever you needed him, ready to listen when you were ready to speak.

one night, as you sat together by the fire, wrapped in a blanket he had draped around your shoulders, you finally found your voice.

"they took everything from me," you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the flames. "i thought i’d never be whole again."

logan’s heart broke at your words, at the quiet resignation in your tone. he moved closer, his hand reaching for yours. "you’re not broken,“ he said, his voice gentle but firm. "they didn’t take you from me. you’re still here. you’re still you."

you looked at him then, your eyes searching his for something, maybe hope, maybe reassurance. "but what if i’m not?" you whispered. "what if i’m not the same person you loved?"

logan shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. "you’re the person i love, darlin’. that’s never gonna change."

a small, broken smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and for the first time since he found you, logan saw a glimpse of the person you used to be. it wasn’t much, but it was enough. enough to remind him that healing wasn’t a straight path, it was messy, painful, and sometimes it felt impossible. but it was possible. and he would be there with you every step of the way.

————————————————————————

months passed, and the scars of your captivity began to fade, not completely, not ever completely, but enough that you started to reclaim pieces of yourself. you and logan rebuilt what had been taken from you, brick by brick, moment by moment. the nightmares didn’t stop, and the fear didn’t entirely go away, but you found strength in each other. and slowly, little by little, the cracks in your heart began to heal.

one day, as you stood on the porch of the cabin, watching the sun dip below the horizon, logan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you leaned back against him, letting out a soft sigh as you felt the warmth of his presence.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the evening.

"for what?" logan asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"for not giving up on me," you said, turning in his arms so you could look into his eyes. "for finding me.”

logan’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

tears filled your eyes, but this time, they were tears of something new. not pain, not sorrow, but hope. because even after everything, you had found your way back to each other.

[byoldervine]

Writing Tips - Beating Perfectionism

1. Recognising writing perfectionism. It’s not usually as literal as “This isn’t 100% perfect and so it is the worst thing ever”, in my experience it usually sneaks up more subtly. Things like where you should probably be continuing on but if you don’t figure out how to word this paragraph better it’s just going to bug you the whole time, or where you’re growing demotivated because you don’t know how to describe the scene 100% exactly as you can imagine it in your head, or things along those lines where your desire to be exact can get in the way of progression. In isolated scenarios this is natural, but if it’s regularly and notably impacting your progress then there’s a more pressing issue

2. Write now, edit later. Easier said than done, which always infuriated me until I worked out how it translates into practice; you need to recognise what the purpose of this stage of the writing process is and when editing will hinder you more than help you. Anything up to and including your first draft is purely done for structural and creative purposes, and trying to impose perfection on a creative process will naturally stifle said creativity. Creativity demands the freedom of imperfection

3. Perfection is stagnant. We all know that we have to give our characters flaws and challenges to overcome since, otherwise, there’s no room for growth or conflict or plot, and it ends up being boring and predictable at best - and it’s just the same as your writing. Say you wrote the absolute perfect book; the perfect plot, the perfect characters, the perfect arcs, the perfect ending, etc etc. It’s an overnight bestseller and you’re discussed as a literary great for all time. Everyone, even those outside of your target demographic, call it the perfect book. Not only would that first require you to turn the perfect book into something objective, which is impossible, but it would also mean that you would either never write again, because you can never do better than your perfect book, or you’ll always write the exact same thing in the exact same way to ensure constant perfection. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, and all in all it’s just fearful behaviour meant to protect you from criticism that you aren’t used to, rather than allowing yourself to get acclimated to less than purely positive feedback

4. Faulty comparisons. Comparing your writing to that of a published author’s is great from an analytical perspective, but it can easily just become a case of “Their work is so much better, mine sucks, I’ll never be as good as them or as good as any ‘real’ writer”. You need to remember that you’re comparing a completely finished draft, which likely underwent at least three major edits and could have even had upwards of ten, to wherever it is you’re at. A surprising number of people compare their *first* draft to a finished product, which is insanity when you think of it that way; it seems so obvious from this perspective why your first attempt isn’t as good as their tenth. You also end up comparing your ability to describe the images in your head to their ability to craft a new image in your head; I guarantee you that the image the author came up with isn’t the one their readers have, and they’re kicking themselves for not being able to get it exactly as they themselves imagine it. Only the author knows what image they’re working off of; the readers don’t, and they can imagine their own variation which is just as amazing

5. Up close and too personal. Expanding on the last point, just in general it’s harder to describe something in coherent words than it is to process it when someone else prompts you to do so. You end up frustrated and going over it a gazillion times, even to the point where words don’t even look like words anymore. You’ve got this perfect vision of how the whole story is supposed to go, and when you very understandably can’t flawlessly translate every single minute detail to your satisfaction, it’s demotivating. You’re emotionally attached to this perfect version that can’t ever be fully articulated through any other medium. But on the other hand, when consuming other media that you didn’t have a hand in creating, you’re viewing it with perfectly fresh eyes; you have no ‘perfect ideal’ of how everything is supposed to look and feel and be, so the images the final product conjures up become that idealised version - its no wonder why it always feels like every writer except you can pull off their visions when your writing is the only one you have such rigorous preconceived notions of

6. That’s entertainment. Of course writing can be stressful and draining and frustrating and all other sorts of nasty things, but if overall you can’t say that you ultimately enjoy it, you’re not writing for the right reasons. You’ll never take true pride in your work if it only brings you misery. Take a step back, figure out what you can do to make things more fun for you - or at least less like a chore - and work from there

7. Write for yourself. One of the things that most gets to me when writing is “If this was found and read by someone I know, how would that feel?”, which has lead me on multiple occasions to backtrack and try to be less cringe or less weird or less preachy or whatever else. It’s harder to share your work with people you know whose opinions you care about and whose impressions of you have the potential of shifting based on this - sharing it to strangers whose opinions ultimately don’t matter and who you’ll never have to interact with again is somehow a lot less scary because their judgements won’t stick. But allowing the imaginary opinions of others to dictate not even your finished project, but your unmoderated creative process in general? Nobody is going to see this without your say so; this is not the time to be fussing over how others may perceive your writing. The only opinion that matters at this stage is your own

8. Redirection. Instead of focusing on quality, focusing on quantity has helped me to improve my perfectionism issues; it doesn’t matter if I write twenty paragraphs of complete BS so long as I’ve written twenty paragraphs or something that may or may not be useful later. I can still let myself feel accomplished regardless of quality, and if I later have to throw out whole chapters, so be it

9. That’s a problem for future me. A lot of people have no idea how to edit, or what to look for when they do so, so having a clear idea of what you want to edit by the time the editing session comes around is gonna be a game-changer once you’re supposed to be editing. Save the clear work for when you’re allocating time for it and you’ll have a much easier and more focused start to the editing process. It’ll be more motivating than staring blankly at the intimidating word count, at least

10. The application of applications. If all else fails and you’re still going back to edit what you’ve just wrote in some struggle for the perfect writing, there are apps and websites that you can use that physically prevent you from editing your work until you’re done with it. If nothing else, maybe it can help train you away from major edits as you go

[sasahuaa]

Kalim Al-Asim as an omega

Riddle - Leona - Azul - Vil - Idia - Malleus

gn!reader; sfw; word count: 2862; cw: I believe there’s no sensible content here? Except maybe Kalim in his thoughts dreaming about pups in his future and a little bit of Jamil’s competitiveness, it depends from person to person I guess

Kalim, differently from most, has a privileged background, though not every land is as progressive as Sunset Savanna, his parents still decided to make him their heir. At the discovery that the first son of the Asim family was an omega, many other families tried to marry their alpha children into the family, in the hopes of them becoming the new head of the Asim household.

Of course, Kalim's father put his foot down about his decision, his son would inherit all his power and that was final. Because of that, although Kalim had to deal with people plotting against his life and the occasional suitors that got close to him, he had a privileged life.

With a doting father and a sweet mother, both standing behind his decisions to pursue his happiness, his best friend as his right hand and servant, one that he trusts his very soul to, and adorable little siblings that are numbered enough to fill every crevice of his heart, he has trouble thinking of anything more that he craves in life.

Courting

Spending time with you during winter break was thrilling, he made a new friend! And just like his house was always open for more siblings, his dorm was ready to receive guests and new students, like one big family.

“The more people the merrier, I would feel very happy if you visit more! Next time I could give you a big tour, or we could go in a camelback stroll, or-”

“Whatever you want, I will be in your hands” he couldn't help but squeal and purr at your words.

Kalim was drawn to you from the start, you are so nice to look at, your skin is soft to touch, and a melodic voice that calls for him even when you are not saying his name. Jamil often compared him to a bee attracted to a flower, trailing after the aromatic scent left behind, poking your hands like your hands were the delicate petals that welcomed him.

This must mean that you were destined to meet, after all, he never felt this in synchrony with someone before. This can just mean… that you are meant to be best friends forever!

Jamil sighed in despair.

Truth is, though Kalim fantasized about a romance like his parents have, and had expectatives of about his future alpha (someone kind and warm, a ride or die that while have energy enough to keep up with him, still is capable of relying on him, someone full of love not just for him, but for his family and friends), he never had experience with romance. His parents made sure to isolate him from suitors that they deemed unworthy or people were scared of making advances because of Jamil's constant guard, for that reason the omega thought his admiration was purely platonic.

And he was so excited during the training for the Vocal and Dance Championship. It was not just the contentment of being on stage with friends, but you also opened your home for all of them, like he opened his for you.

Jamil had so much work to do these days, he was occupied not only by the training, moreover by his usual tasks with Kalim, which became worse when he was next to you. It was an unspoken agreement that Jamil would be assigned to be Kalim's chaperone should he ever be captivated by some alpha, so anytime that Kalim decided that he wanted to hang out with you, Jamil was trailing right behind.

And the omega was so charmed, if Jamil did not stop him, Kalim would follow you into your room by the hour Vil stipulated that was curfew time, he did not have any intentions doing that, he swears, Jamil! He wasn't finished talking with you, that's all! But it was so tempting, he wondered what your hut looked like, if you decorated it and what it was like to be engulfed by your scent.

Everyone around him noticed his lovesick smile when he was next to you, he is not shy to touch by any means, but he hovers and holds you more than usual. And there's two ways that he became aware of his feelings, by someone pointing it out to him, he may deny it at first, but it is enough to plague his mind for the foreseeable future, or if he saw you seeking help from someone else.

In case it's the later, he felt a bit betrayed, Kalim was quieter for the rest of the day, it was not a sense of jealousy per see, he was happy that you had friends, specially when he understands that it's harder to connect with people when faced with a situation like yours. Still, the omega wanted to be the one that you depend on, for you to find support on him and only him.

Kalim knows that he is not the greatest in certain subjects, he can't promise he won't explode something in alchemy classes, and yet having fun is the most important thing, right? At least the omega knows that he could live his whole life just with that.

“I mean, they would enjoy carpet rides more than whatever that other omega could give them, or at least I think so. Do you believe that they could give more than I can? I mean, obviously they like me more, otherwise they wouldn't spend so much time with me, so why ask for his help?” Kalim chatted, laying on his stomach and swinging his legs in the air. Jamil cleaned his bedroom while listening to the other omega's woes.

The housewarden knew what he wanted and was determined to work for it, he wouldn't let this instance desmotivate him. He was planning to make the best decision regarding that, mother told him that alphas need to work hard to be worthy of an omega, still, was it wrong if he shoot his shot too? Most of all, you are so special to him, he is being careful, though, when he wasn't chosen as one of the main trio for the VDC it… hurted, more than he ever felt before.

It was his first time feeling rejection, and hearing Grim saying that he should just suck it up because he had everything else pained him even more. He certainly does not want a round 2 of that, he accepted the challenge against Jamil, he would accept much more!

Kalim snapped his fingers and sat straight up on his nest, an idea coming to mind “I know! Maybe they were preparing a surprise for me and needed help to prepare it!”

“If that was the case, why wouldn't they ask for my help instead? I sure know more about you than any other.” Jamil rebutted, a smug smile gracing his face. Although he thinks it would be entertaining to be in a situation where Kalim envied him, and he won against him once more even if it came at your expense, he didn't want to know the consequences that would befall on him and his family.

The alpha that the beloved first son of the Asim household was enamored talking to a mere servant? Outrageous. His head would be on the line, so for now he is glad to be a side character to the show and not the love opponent, though Jamil believes that he will be forced to play the cupid role or warding away other possible adversaries.

And he did, with Jamil's work most omegas avoided talking with you, he cooked meals for three, handing two lunch boxes to Kalim so you both would eat together, alone if it was up to him, watching from afar while keeping Ace, Deuce and Grim on another table. He doesn't trust them, he heard too much about the “omega best friend” and “alpha best friend” troup, if you favored the Adeuce duo he would have to resort for more drastic measures, and Grim is away because these lunch dates are supposed to keep your attention on Kalim.

But even when Kalim told himself that he would charm you leisurely, it was hard to contain his eagerness, so after a week or two of festivities and activities done in Scarabia (he may or may not let it escape from his mouth that he was inviting you for dates), and many scoldings from Jamil (he is going to finish his homework, what if he gets lost in his dreams and keeps writing combinations of your name with his in the corners of his notebook and gushes non stop about what he thinks you would act like as a partner? Planning the future is very important, more than school assignments!), he decided to approach you with forwardness, and yet keep it subtle.

His solution?

“Hey, don't you think it would be really nice if you court me?”

Jamil facepalmed in the distance.

Growling

Kalim doesn't growl, not often at least, this omega's growl is rarer than finding perfectly squared clouds. The first time people heard him growl was when Jamil was poisoned for his sake, he hated that, his family was harmed and it was supposed to be him.

He is equally protective of his little brothers and sisters, he is selfless and is not too upset when things affect him, but for the individuals that are deep carved in his heart, he would sacrifice until the last remnants of his soul to protect them.

Kalim may growl if he is being playful, but he doesn't really like the connotations that growling is connected with. He isn't irritated or feeling threatened, so why growl? He makes exceptions if he is using a costume though.

Purring

Unlike growling, purring is a common sound for Kalim, he jokes about that and says that his vocal cords are made for purring, he emits long and resounding purrs, ones that could be heard from the next room. The omega remembers when he was little, his mother would tuck him tight in her nest and purr him to sleep, eventually, whenever they were born, his siblings joined in, and his father would answer his mother's purr with a rumble of his own when he wasn't busy, a couple of pups placed on his chest.

He wants that! To have a loving mate by his side and lull little pups to sleep, preferably his. Oh sevens, he purrs just from this image and he can feel his heart flutter. It would be a dream come true to have a big happy family, and he learns how to do that anytime he visits his family, he picks his siblings and tuck them into his nest, purring them to sleep like his mother did to him.

This behaviour is also common in Scarabia, he assembles an enormous nest in the middle of the main room, inviting his underclassmen inside. Right there, he purrs to calm them down, listens to their troubles and tries to give them advice or solve it himself, and he also purrs when they tell him their achievements or joys from the day.

No one was prepared to the days he purred the most, during a visit to his household, he brought up that he was being courted, he was confident that his parents and siblings would adore you, but being over prepared is not bad! He put together a powerpoint presentation about why he wanted to mate you, what he liked about you, your qualities, how he feels and why you would be a great addition to the family.

His siblings asked many questions about you and were enamored, they wanted to meet you so bad! His parents were a bit skeptical at first, they know that Kalim wants to live without suspecting anyone, making him oblivious and naive, so for them, an alpha with no name in this world, no acquisitive power nor magic is dubious in the least.

Nevertheless, you receive their approval after they met you personally. Kalim was so happy, he purred non stop for days, he almost can't wait for you to officially be part of his family.

Nesting

Kalim has a big and completely filled nest, many blankets, pillows and clothing scattered in it, his nest is loaded by the scent from the people he is close with, it's mismatched in colors and textures, the omega accepts anything his loved ones are willing to give.

Although he assembles a big nest for his underclassmen, his most precious nest, with clothes from his family and secured in his bedroom, is a private property. The only people he presents this nest for is his siblings and Jamil, occasionally his parents too, though in his family it is traditional that the nest used for this kind of meeting is the omega matriarch's.

Kalim would permit his alpha in his nest very early too, he loves you, he wants to keep you safe and give you anything you want, there's no better place in the world than his nest. He also gave you permission to come and go as you want, no need to ask.

Marking

Kalim is not a jealous omega, with you secured by the courtship he is certain that you would never react to another. That being said, he is a romantic through and through, he loves having his scent on you, but he likes yours on him the most.

He insists on using matching clothes and necklaces that complete each other, if you allow it Kalim would even request pingents with each other's names.

Subspace

Kalim enters subspace quite often, for a disclaimer subspace is not always sexual and can be platonic from time to time, or completely alone, because of that, he is deep in the comforts of his mind especially when he is being taken care of, or wholly relaxed with people he trusts.

While Jamil cleans his room and helps him to bed? Subspace. When his mother is singing lullabies and a lot of pups around happily purring and whining? Subspace. He likes it so much that he insists for someone to help guide him to it.

With you, he is talkative and whiny, chirping and cooing at the same time he is combing your hair. Kalim is very touchy when his mind is sober, and in subspace he almost merges your bodies together.

Most of what he says during it is nonsense, like how birds build nests in the clouds or how he is sure that if Leona swirls his tail at max speed he could fly. Nonetheless, these are very soft and warm sessions.

☽ ☼ ☾

“I hope you like what I brought today. I even made the tea myself- well, Jamil teached me how to do it and measured all the ingredients, and told me when to stop boiling the water so I didn't burn the leaves, but this must count to something, right?” Kalim handed you a tea cup, his slender fingers conducted yours to wrap around the handle. “This is the way that is served in my house, you can add honey if you prefer it.”

“No need, I want to taste how you made it.” you waved his suggestion off, taking a sip from the drink, the tea is a bit bitter, like it's expected from most drinks of this kind, it's not bad though, he did put effort to make this and had instructions, and this is clear by the taste “I like this, you did great.”

“Thanks!” the omega giggled, he leaned by your side until his shoulder touched yours.

He put much thought into this picnic, he made sure you were free, and Jamil told him to not worry that he would take care of the rest. He picked a sandwich and fiddled with it, ruining the packing under his fingers.

“I saw you talking with an omega from the class beside yours, is he your type?” he took a moment to laugh at your stunned expression, pushing you with his shoulder to break your silence, a quiet no escaped your lips “So what is your type? I hope you like red eyes and a big smile.”

A facepalm, followed by a heavy sigh, was heard from beside you both.

“Mn, more like it.” you smiled to him, covering below your nose with your hand “Perhaps I would be more open to talk about it if we didn't have spectators”

“Sur-”

“Absolutely not.” Jamil cut him off, he had a deep frown on his face, bad day to have to serve Kalim, bad job, why should he chaperone?

“But-”

“No, Kalim” he interrupted once again “Remember that I have the duty to protect your purity.”

“I wasn't suggesting that!” “Jamil!”

Jamil puffed, taking one of the pastries and eating it “Get used to it, your parents wouldn't be happy if you were alone with an alpha before marriage.”

Kalim whined at that, that was not fair! But acquiesced after some more scolding, he glanced at you by the side of his eye, he could endure it if he was able to win the prize by the end of the race.

[dailyfloweys]

Flowey Analysis from a fellow flower 🌼

Happy National Siblings Day! for April 10th, I'm posting something a bit different than my usual daily flowey art. I'll be talking a bit about Flowey's character and comparing the nuances of his character with my personal experiences.

talk of PTSD and sibling death ahead:

Day 28 | I see you

Before I dive into the meat and potatoes of his grief I just want to add how I view flowey in terms of how he Feels Emotions because I forgot that not everyone is on the same page:

-him lacking a soul to feel compassion or most of his own feelings (besides anger and fear) feels very representative of how the brain will protect itsself after experiencing extreme stress situations like the shit he went through… There will be a wall that feels impenetrable between you and your emotions and it takes sooo much to find your way over that wall. and when you get over it its just one time and you wont really remember how to get back over that wall. yeah.. It gets a little easier each time at least.. And people who love you can help make it easier too ❤️

-him being immortal but getting reincarnated before reaching adulthood… feels very representative of how PTSD works on the brain and how ultimately it will just take Much longer before your brain can fully mature.. He needs some more time to live! Him further traumatizing himself by going through constant resets is not living!!

Ok. Now lets start the post:

He just misses his best friend. He misses the only one that understands him. He just wants to talk to them one more time. He doesn't understand why hes alive or why he was left behind. It's a weird feeling to be alive and be forced to live through so many years without that once-familiar company. The longer you go on without them, the harder memories with them are to recall. You start to fixate on a set few that you feel are most important, and soon it becomes your mantra. It starts getting harder to recall what their face looks like, but you remember when you look in a mirror. (I talked about this before on my sideblog too)

It being almost 6 years now since my brother passed away, this has been the culmination of how I've felt throughout the years. Maybe it wasn't intentional of Toby Fox to have Floweys simple smile resemble Charas smile, but I can't help but see it that way. You may not notice the similarities you have to your sibling at first, but once they pass on, those features really start to shine. In Floweys case, he didn't start to resemble chara until after losing them. It can certainly feel this way-- that the features just sort of appear out of nowhere. Parts of you that you ignored are now more apparant than ever.

Flowey/Asriel talking about how Chara is the only person that understands him is something I get more than anything. The sibling you lived and grew with would absolutely understand you more than anyone else... They know what your home life is like, what you get for dinner, secrets you dont tell anyone... Regardless of how close you feel with your sibling, they know you better than anyone else.

Losing someone that you have this kind of relationship with can very easily cause your whole world to fall apart in front of you, and you're left to pick up the pieces. It's usually preferred that you have others in your life to help you with this process, but if you don't... It could be hard to heal. Not only that, but it could be easier to hurt a lot more than you should in the grieving process.

Isolated and alone, there isn't much to do besides hope for something better than this. Mom or Dad couldn't fix me, so maybe... maybe They can. They'll come back for me. They know I can't live without them, right?

For some time, I wanted to believe this. It was so scary being in a world without my sibling. Hes the one that protected me from those that hurt us, and with him gone, I'd be vulnerable. For many months, I'd have the same dream, night after night...

They show up in your dreams, telling you that they're alright. They're not dead! It was just a lie someone made up. You feel their warm embrace. And then, you wake up. For a second, you still believe that its true--They really didn't die. But, then... You lie there in bed for just a bit longer. You realize the truth. You realize you have to live through today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, next decade, and next century without them from now on. You get up.

For Flowey's case, he never fully made peace with Chara's passing until Frisk comes along. He needed someone to pull him out of the constant trauma he was inflicting upon himself (his power to reset) and ... a bit of kindness and patience... to finally move forward. To finally get to live life again, day by day.

Before Frisk, however, all he had was himself. With his best friend seemingly not coming back, and his family unable to help him ...

He simply can't continue. If it wasn't for the fact that he came back to life by being combined with concentrations of Determination, the grief he felt upon being left behind would've caused him to be gone again for good. It makes so much sense to me that his parents couldn't help him in this state. They don't understand how different the grief of losing a sibling is from losing a child. Both hurt deeply and last a lifetime, but the loss of a sibling is a loss of someone who you've known your whole life. its the loss of someone who was growing up with you.

So, of course, since he found out he can't die AND that he can reset the timeline whenever he wants to... He decided to start playing god to cope. He can't have his body, soul, or best friend, so... this is his compromise for some sort of control. As the years DONT go by, and he continues to reset the timeline for the fun of it, he only continues to get worse... And theres no one there to help him. Of course someone does come around to finally help him, but its been so many years already. It's horrible he had to wait so long to finally move on and live again.

Cuz of this, I like to think frisk remains his friend and he starts to find himself again after everything that happened. He needs gentle people in his life to let him heal however he needs to. And, I feel out of everyone, he could only ever talk about the trauma he went through to frisk... No one else would understand. Like literally. they'd go "What the fuck are you Talking about". except maybe sans. But it wouldn't be a good idea to open up to sans about that kind of trauma 9_9;

Frisk may not be able to fully understand (If we are going off the premise that Chara is aware of all the Resets and Not Frisk) but Flowey doesn't need someone to fully understand...just someone to talk to and have a shoulder to lean on.

Okay I'm done speaking my stuff heres art I made last September with a cool background I drew up recently on it:

This drawing is rather personal to me because this drawings actually a memory I have of me and my brother in the last years we shared where we Didn't have to worry about us being hurt anymore. We were playing each others favorite games at the time.

I decided to post this on this day because:

A. April 10th is National Siblings Day!

B. the day after today, April 11th, is the day my brother died. Once a year, I like to do something cathartic for myself. Whether I'm just getting bottled up feelings out of me or I'm letting myself understand where I am with my grief, I like to always try and do something like this to remember my brother. Hes the only one that could understand what I went through and how hard it was to get here.

C. In general, I feel its important to post this because I know personally how hard it is to write about things like this. There have been many times where I've tried writing or drawing about my PTSD and, even though I didn't even write the first word or draw the first line, All of my days energy would get zapped out of my system just thinking about it. Its been long enough now that I can write as much as this post and still feel okay! So if anyone out there reading this is in the same boat, just know that healing truly does take time. Sometimes it also takes a certain person, or a certain phrase. Be patient, take care of yourself, and appreciate the ones around you while theyre still here.

Sticking this here because I didn't have any reason to include this in the main post But the 9 year anniversary letter Asriel wrote about Chara really messed me up </3 for many reasons, but also because my brothers favorite number is also 9... ❤️🤝🌼

[lxdymoon0357]

hi beautiful !

Can i ask yandere calisto(of death only waiting for vilainess) with a lapileon reader of my in law are obssesef with me(she have cursed blood)

(warnings: blackmailing, poisoning, forced marriage, forceful harvest of body parts (your blood), murder,manipulation, verbal abuse, mentions of suicide.)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Yandere! Callisto Regulus X Lapileon! Reader

◙ Callisto is a very dangeranged and protective man, everyone knows about him. Especially you, one of the darling children from the great noble yet very secretive Lapileon family filled with the genetics of red eyes and quiet and reserved demeanors, though not from Eorka empire exactly, but rather from the midlands in between Eorka empire and the nearest other empire.

◙ Your quiet and reserved demeanor is what caught his attention to you in the first place, your family and you didn't regularly attend, you kept to yourselves and you all were VERY MODEST as compared to the trends of the empire which came and went by, always covering every part of your skin.

◙ Of-course it's not long before he tries to become your acquaintance, getting closer to your brother, Therdeo, and eventually you. Forming alliance, he takes the chance to court you. It's not hard considering it would be rude to deny the crown prince, wouldn't it? I believe it would almost deplete your image if you denied him, though of-course he would say no pressure in marrying him.

◙ I imagine it was an utter mistake he learnt of the family's secret. He forcefully entered on one of those days where you got so sick, you were bleeding and vomiting blood and the very few were trying to force him out, but he entered nonetheless and he demanded as to why you're not having anyone and why you're so nervous and everything.

◙ He figured he stumbled on something which will help him tie you down to him. And he was all too glad about it. Of-course you had to admit your family secret and he used it tie you with him, claiming he will make sure nothing can happen and also suggesting to use your blood to help the empire, which you of-course denied as it was family rules to never use your blood as a method of killing.

◙ Of-course it resulted in anger and him blackmailing to kill your entire family and reveal your secrets so no Lapileon ever in the world would be safe, as everyone would be thrown into the severed lines of being "demonic". And you of-course didn't want it, he knew..

◙ Of-course that's why within 5 months of courting, you got married to him, he says it's true love between you two!~ How cute, a reserved noble and boisterous crown prince together, a sight to behold really!! Of-course they don't have to know what goes on behind the scene

◙ Constant beration of your family, telling you how they were isolating you..Harvests your blood for the sole purpose of bettering his immunity incase you one day try to kill him off, he couldn't afford that. Imagine leaving his darling spouse behind!

◙ He adores you so much, he gets you the most gorgeous red coloured jewels to match your red eyes, the most prettier red dresses, red shoes, red metallic hair accessories..everything to match your gorgeous red eyes that he adores so much.

◙ He doesn't get mad often at you, but of-course days exist when something ticks him off, he blackmails you by threatening to reveal family secret and does reveal it to some servant for a while and then later on kills off the servant when he cools down and realized how hurt you must be!

◙ Of-course some days you somehow manage to piss him off, it might result in blood splatter to kill off a few servant or verbal abuses thrown your way, of-course you're just so idiotic that you don't even know what's good for you! He's doing this for your betterment and you have the audacity to even think of someone other than him? Of annoying him, of being ungrateful to him?! He's your fucking husband, you idiot. You're just such an idiot, it would sometimes been better that you don't exist!

◙ Of-course he never means those words, darling! What are you talking about? He never meant it, t was just in anger and heat of the moment. After berating you, verbally abusing you or even hitting you once or twice in anger, he couldn't control..he does love you at the end of the day, cuddling upto you, checking to make sure you don't have a cut anywhere he would hate to see you upset if you accidentally killed someone!

[yan-lorkai]

Hi!! I loved your hcs of the Octotrio with a yuu that seems to only have a talent in art. I related to it a lot because sometimes I feel like I’m not good at anything else other than drawing.

I was wondering if you could do the same prompt with Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Malleus & the Scarabia boys please? If that’s too many you can just do Leona, Malleus, & Scarabia. Thank you 😊

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I guess everyone has one of those episodes, huh? I've been writing for more than 8 years now and sometimes I get hit by the "aa but I'm only good at writing, I should totally try something" and then I try something new and hate it bcs I really love to write and nothing can compare lmao. Anyway, I hope you like this darling, I did all the characters requested too btw ~

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ace would be playful and encouraging, but his competitive nature would lead him to manipulate situations to keep you close. He’d play little tricks to make sure you stay dependent on him, offering "helpful" critiques that subtly undermine your confidence in anything but your art. His lighthearted facade would hide a deeper need to be the center of your attention, he is your muse, the one you use to practice, the who inspires you, making sure that you see him as the only one who truly understands and supports you, all while ensuring you don't realize how he’s subtly sabotaging any other talents you might want to try to explore, for he fears you will not want to spend more time with him anymore if that was the case.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Cater would use his social media prowess to make you art the talk of the school, ensuring your work — and by extension, his support — is always in the spotlight. However, his validation would come with a price, as he subtly isolates you from others, creating an environment where you feel your art is only appreciated by him and his curated audience. Cater’s charming persona would hide his darker intentions, as he manipulates your into believing that your worth is tied to the art you create under his influence, all while keeping you emotionally dependent on his constant praise. You're already good at other things, so surely you don't need to have another hobby, right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Deuce, unlike Ace, would be fiercely protective of your artistic talent. He’d encourage your art with an almost desperate intensity, pushing you to try different brushes and pens, different scenarios and things, but he'd also pressure you to stay focused on what your good at, ensuring you don’t waste time on things you never tried before. His possessiveness would manifest in his need to be your protector, to the point where he'd become intimidating towards anyone who tries to steer you away from your art, that does not apply to yourself, while he think your drawings / paintings are very beautiful, he would not force you to make it more if you're having an episode where you doubt your skills and think you are good only on the art field. If you want to explore new things, Deuce will be by your side the entire time.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle would be intensely supportive yet controlling, pushing you to perfect your craft while ensuring you don't stray too far from his strict rules, even more if you are already his lover. His obsession with your success would become borderline suffocating, as he constantly monitors your progress and enforces discipline to keep you on the right path, nurturing your already beautiful talent. To Riddle, your art is flawless, it's personal and have a touch of you in every drawing, be it digital or traditional. When you come to tell him about your doubts, about how you're only good at art, Riddle promptly sooth you with gentle words, albeit he is a little awkward while talking. He offer to teach you about whatever you want to learn but be prepared because he is somewhat a strict teacher.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona would admire your dedication to your art, and he would ask questions about it too, learning as much as your interest as possible. However, his possessiveness would be almost primal, keeping you close under the guise of protection, ensuring you don’t waste time on anything — or anyone — else. Leona would be dismissive of your attempts to explore other talents, reinforcing that your art is the only thing that matters. His control would be subtle yet overpowering, as he ensures your world revolves around him and your art, leaving you with little room for anything else.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus would shower you with endless admiration, captivated by your artistic talent, even more if you were influenced by an artistic movement. He'll notice all the little details, the subtle way the traces converge, how the color scheme is perfect, the way the shadows and the light reflect. He is your number 1 fan, so supportive of you. However, his intense fascination would drag you into his lonely world, where your art becomes your only outlet and he is your audience - though he has your drawings framed and hung on the walls of the castles, so everyone can look at it and admire. Malleus may not understand your struggles and why would you want to pursue another hobby, but he can arrange anything you may want to try at least once, from singing and dancing to sewing and knitting, even the art of potion making, archery or fencing. He just know you're going to find something you like as much as your art, and if you are happy so is he.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jamil would secretly nurture your talent, subtly guiding your creativity while undermining any attempts you make to excel elsewhere, he sees your art as something free and with many meanings - it makes him relaxed in some sort of way and Jamil wants to be a little greedy here, he wants you to continue creating more pieces, always keeping you under his watchful eye as you started drawing / painting. There's just something so intimate, so calming about it he can't wrap his head around. He loves watching you creating your art, feeling is guard lowering just a little. If you ever approach him with your doubts, Jamil take you to the kitchen so he can teach you a few things about cooking. It's a different kind of art but when all is said and done, it's just as good as when you're creating and make you feeling accomplished.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim would be so overwhelmingly supportive and enthusiastic about it, showering you with gifts and opportunities to nurture your artistic talent, buying everything you may need to create your art, a new software? Sure, no problem, he brought the most expensive one too. A few new pencils and pens? Right away. You need more frames and paints? It will be here in a couple of hours. However, his naivety mixed with possessiveness would lead to unintentional control over your life, as he tries to keep you happy and close by his side. Kalim’s well-meaning gestures would create a gilded cage, where your art flourishes but your freedom is slowly stripped away. He would be oblivious to the suffocating effect of his love, believing that as long as you're happy creating art with him, nothing else matters, leaving you feeling trapped and not knowing how to communicate with him. He have done so much for you already!

[hyunnie04]

tender

lee know x reader, hurt/comfort | m.list

wc: 1.4k | warnings: themes of depression and struggling with mental health

a/n: this fic is a little self indulgent as i haven't been feeling great lately. so i hope this brings comfort to anyone who needs it ♡

you don’t remember how long you’ve been sitting in the tub. you’re sure your hands have pruned and wrinkled due to the prolonged time you have been in here, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

the sides of your head pulses as a migraine at the forefront of your temple starts to fully form. you had hoped a moment of reprieve in the bath would calm your nerves and ease your headache, but it had yet to do so.

the droplets fall slowly against your furrowed eyebrows and taut expression, dripping freely down on your chin and on the dewy expanse of your chest. both arms are splayed limply across the sides of the tub, staring blankly ahead at the white tiled walls above, unmoving. 

the temperature was warm, too warm for your usual liking but you didn’t seem to mind today, welcoming the dull pain it brought. the white tiles that you’ve been staring at for what seemed like forever stared back at you.

the silence was deafening.

a lot has been on your mind lately. the restless and constant feeling of not being good enough and comparing yourself to others caused you to no longer find enjoyment in the things you used to love doing.

words that usually meant nothing had stuck themselves inside your head as well, dissecting every meaning when they had none. sleep did not come easily to you these nights, tossing and turning, failing to succumb into the comforting arms of sleep.

isolation became your company in these moments, withdrawing yourself from everything. missing out on a lot of stuff, in turn, made you feel worse than you already did.

you knew you should probably tell someone about your problems but you just couldn't find it in yourself to do it. the last thing you wanted to be was a bother.

some days are admittedly better than others, where you’re able to get things done, to do your obligations and continue on with life like normal. but when you least expect it, it creeps up on you, pulling you back into that unhealthy head space.

you tried to force these thoughts and feelings down for a long time, pretending that everything was fine. today was apparently the day it all came rising up, unable to keep a lid on your bubbling emotions.

a sense of dread hung over your head, eyes aching from all the crying you did. wet strands of hair had clumped together, obscuring your view, perturbed by how sometimes your skin doesn't feel like yours.

“y/n?”

the bathroom starts to fog with mist, clouding the glass and mirrors, the water slowly scalding your skin. the call to sink down into the water and never come up are louder than ever.

“-y/n? are you in there?” a voice makes itself known. lifting yourself up a little bit, startled at the faintest sound of knocks.

you forget that minho would be home around this time. a hand flies towards your forehead to ease the pounding pain. shit, you haven't started making dinner. 

it takes a while before you answer, collecting yourself as to not sound as shaky. “yeah! just finishing up, i'll be out in a sec.”

“don’t get out, i'll join you.” he yells back, the sound of padding feet against the wooden floors reverb through out the apartment. your eyes flicker at his sudden decision, causing you to sigh and sink down into the water once more.

as much as you adored and love him and how most days would let him join you with no hesitation, you silently hoped that he wouldn't today. you couldn't bear to let him see you in this state, all disheveled and puffy eyed. but it was rare when he was even home, given his grueling schedule.

so you wait for him patiently to come over to your shared bathroom, hugging your legs tightly. you remember to turn the cold tap on and off before he enters, water droplets filling in the silence.

when he finally creaks open the door with nothing on but a bathrobe and a silly cat headband that kept his hair away from his forehead on, you can't help but smile even if it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

you inch farther into the corner, making space for him quietly as he gets in. if he had noticed the temperature of the water that had yet to cool down, he made no attempt to comment.

the two of you don't say anything for the time being, just in each other's corner, relaxing and leaning your arms on the cool edge of the tub.

“you’re quiet.” his voice echoes. minho’s voice cuts through the silence, a stark contrast to the quietness of the bathroom just moments ago.

“i’m sorry.”

feeling minho’s heavy unwavering gaze into the side of your head, you can’t help but feel awful. you don’t mean to be so curt with him, but any more words from your mouth frightens you, afraid that the underlying shakiness of your voice will give you away.

your eyes still keep averting his, afraid of what expression he might bore. will he look at you with pity? with a tired gaze of disappointment?

he does not. instead, minho grabs one of the lavender scented shampoo bottles placed neatly on the shelf and gestures for you to turn around. you follow his request, albeit apprehensively, turning around.

“there we go.” he says. even if you refuse to meet his eyes, you could tell he was smiling as he said it.

minho takes great care to shampoo your hair, his blunt nails gently raking over your scalp, unknowingly soothing your dreadful headache. minho is observant, very much so. it doesn’t surprise you at all anymore when he suddenly asks.

“what’s wrong, hmm?” he finally says amidst the stillness of the atmosphere, tone dripping of comfort as his hands continue to lightly massage through your soapy tresses. you lean into it like a desperate cat, melting at his simple touch. oh how you've yearned for his touch.

although you don’t answer, his intuitive nature already knows that something was amiss.

“you know i’m always here for you.” minho says, pressing a delicate kiss on your shoulder. his sweet words and murmurs of comfort act like a salve to your aching heart as tears start to gather at your lash line once again.

you always hated making him worry.

the overwhelming emotion brings you to tears, immense guilt ebbing at your seams. minho places his head on your shoulder as you cry, hands running up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe you.

he doesn't deserve this, to be left out, to not know the reason you're so distant lately. he trusted you and you trusted him. so you spill every little thing to him.

voice starting to rasp, your stuttering cries now unrestraint without fear of judgement and just allowing yourself to be vulnerable. salty tears start to meld together with the water in the tub, rippling as they fall. at last, you feel lighter. the weight that you carried for so long in your heart doesn't have to be carried alone.

after a while, the hiccupping in your throat and the tears start to subside, leaving you a sniffling mess. turning around to finally face him, you fought the urge to hide in your hands.

"feel a little better now?" minho looks at you with nothing but a loving smile, no underlying judgement, just adoration, and one that makes you dive into him. you feel so utterly loved, what did you do to deserve him?

your arms wrap around his neck, placing apologetic kisses on his lips. he reciprocates, hands going around your back to steady your form. your mouth tumbles out watery apologies as he caresses the skin of your nape, gentle as he can.

you release him, arms still hooked around his neck, looking deeply into his eyes as if he's the center of the universe, and to you, he is. "i love you." the edges of your vision cloud with the tell tale signs of drowsiness, finally finding it in yourself to relax in his hold.

and he lets you, guiding your head to rest on his broad chest, the steady beats of his heart thumping against your temple, grounding you, his feathery light touches lingering.

feelings like these come and go, but minho is a constant that you keep close to your heart.

“thank you for putting up with me.”

"of course, i love you too."

[wanderingcritter]

Being a lesbian and nonhuman at the same time feels.. strange.

Because, like, human girls are these absolutely stunning, almost unreal beings. They're beautiful beyond words, the kind of beauty that can only ever be conveyed through the careful plucking of guitar strings, or through a vibrant splash of paint against barren canvases. They hold the stars in their eyes and flecks of gold in their hair, as if the forces of the cosmos themselves hand crafted their forms. They're soft and gentle and warm, but also strong and fierce and an unbelievable force to be reckoned with. Once when I was young, I got caught outside during a tropical hurricane and was almost lifted into the air by the winds; that is the closest thing I can compare to the feeling of falling for a girl. They are everything that a human being should be and more.

And then, there I am. A beast. This.. thing that stalks the woods in the darkest hours of the night, with dirt coated matted fur and piercing amber gaze, unseen and uncomprehended by man. Constant yearning, hunger. For flesh, for bloodlust, for isolation and freedom, to be feared, to be whispered about in hushed tales around a withering campfire. The creature in the forest, didn't you hear? If it catches you alone on a full moon it will peel your skin away from your body with fangs the size of your palms. Stay close. Your measly pocket knife won't do much in its wake I fear. A wild, snarling thing that flinches beneath humanity's touch and rejects their "civility" in favor of the murmuring creek that sings old and long forgotten hymns to the ancient mountains above.

I know when they look at me they see one of them, a human with soft skin and kind eyes, a human who smiles at them and perhaps offers a passing compliment, a human who always tries to coax the timid street cat and watchfully steps around sidewalk slugs. A human. But that is not what I am, at least not in the way that they are. And when I look back at them, with my green eyes that I wished glowed amber, I can't help but wonder "How could someone so divinely human find companionship with something so desperately unhuman as me? How long until you realize the humanoid body you see before you is merely a flawed disguise? Will you still grasp my hand with fond affection when it warps into a mangled paw?"

[is-today-tomorrow-in-nz]

Why Nikolai is more of a villain than Aleksander

This post is an inspiration from one of anon asks.

Time and time again antis have accused Aleksander of several hideous crimes without understanding the monarchy of 19th century Feudal Russia and what serfdom entails. Due to this lack of understanding(or willful ignorance), Aleksander is studied under a harsher light than Nikolai and other characters. I blame the author entirely for this, as she never gave Aleksander a voice until much later. In books 1-3, he is only projected to us through Alina who had nothing but disdain for him.

On the other hand, we see Nikolai, who was a prince and then a king, who did not do much for the country or Grisha. However, his actions are softened by LB and antis. He is considered a 'flawed' human who did his best. His manipulative actions are treated as an act of strategic brilliance while his mistakes are treated as an act of desperation/helplessness.

So, let me first start by explaining some of the vile accusations thrown at Aleksander and then contrast it with some of Nikolai's actions.

He sex-trafficked Genya.

In Book 1, the author herself says two key points 1) Grisha are no better than serfs and 2) After their training, Grisha are either posted in the borders or sent to serve in affluent households. So Genya was not a unique case. This, again, is the price Aleksander had to pay for the Grisha to live. Genya had to be sent as a child because an adult Genya could not get as close to the Queen as a child would and it worked for a while until the Queen turned on her. This were an understanding of serfdom is needed. A serf can be released only by the master not by anyone else. Aleksander cannot take her away and relocate her somewhere else. And if the antis had read the 'The Tailor' they would know that in spite of the challenges, Aleksander did give her a choice- to disappear forever or exact her revenge and it was Genya who chose to stay.

He committed genocide in Novokribirsk.

Even if we ignore Alina's unreliable POV, Zoya's POV tells us that only a part of the city, near the docks was destroyed. So what Aleksander did was just a warning and not a 'genocide'. Antis keep forgetting that Grisha's enemies were not just Fjerda and Shu Han but Ravka itself. Had the coup had succeeded, he not just wanted Fjerda and Shu Han to back off but the First Army soldiers as well. Book 2 shows how his paranoia were not unwarranted. Through Fedyor's story we learn how they were attacked in their sleep and how First Army conducted sham trials and slaughtered them. This alone shows how Ravka's sentiments about Grisha was not much different from Fjerda or Shu Han. So in the event of the coup, Aleksander had no choice but to issue a warning all of his enemies.

He is a predator/abuser.

This is the one that makes me laugh the most. Girl, he is an immortal. He has no choice. All his age-appropriate past lovers are long dead and buried. What is he supposed to do? Remain celibate? They often bring up the kiss near Baghra's hut as an example of his predatory nature. But what manipulation happened? That dummy fell for Alina and high-tailed from there.

Let me draw a comparison to show what actual manipulation and predatory behaviour looks like. (1) Nikolai who is about 7-8 years older than Alina, forcibly kissing her, against her will, in front of hundreds of people just to better his chances for the throne. (2) Mal who punishes Alina for flinching at his advances by getting it on with Zoya. (3) Baghra, who preys on Alina's fears/insecurities and turns her son's one true immortal companion, against him. These are actual manipulations, not the one Aleksander did.

A predator/abuser needs to have constant access to his victims. In LB, own words, Aleksander rarely stayed at the Little Palace. Compared to him, Nikolai, Mal and Baghra had more access to Alina and they did actually succeed isolating her.

The Stag amplifier

Then the stag incident is treated as a sign of his manipulation and perversion. This where we need to apply our critical thinking and ask the important question who benefits from this act? It certainly was not Aleksander.

Let's rewind the clock a bit, Alina who was the Sun Summoner and a key political figure ran away from the Little Palace. Aleksander did not know if it was an enemy attack or something more sinister. He lies to King, who would have his head for this mishap and, searches for her only to learn that she run away on her own violation. So the girl, he hoped to be his ally became a threat. He was forced to reveal his hand sooner and speed up the coup. People need to understand that Aleksander is not an ordinary, lovesick boy, he is a war general and Alina has proved herself to be unworthy of his trust. So he put a leash on her. This not a question of morality but a question of ethics, much like the trolley problem.

He turned on his own Grisha.

They were deserters for god's sake! and was fighting opposite him. They forfeited his protection the moment they joined hands with the enemy. So he was treating them as a normal enemy.

He stole Grisha children.

He did what Charles Xavier did in X-Men. Grisha powers were tied to emotions and are instinctive. Without proper training they are bound to hurt normal people. Not to mention, if the Grisha were born outside they were either killed or sold to pleasure houses. And considering Ravka's anti-Grisha sentiments, he did what he had to do to keep them safe from actual predators.

Now let's talk about some of Nikolai's actions and let's not forget that he was the King/Prince of Ravka.

Sent his father on a luxury retirement instead of punishing him for his crimes.

Used Genya's trauma to make himself the king instead of offering her justice.

Did not care or investigate the genocide of the Second Army soldiers even if the said soldiers were serving the crown. He punished none of the First Army soldiers and was happily brown-nosing them.

Was happy to start a Civil war even after knowing the kind of king his father was. For a 'peace-loving' person (we have seen him in KoS and RoW ass-kissing useless feudal lords instead of using his authority), he did not attempt to negotiate with Aleksander.

Starved his people so Aleksander would have no choice but to use his Grisha to cross the Fold to get supplies. Again for the antis crowing about Novokribirsk, what do you call this?

Stole Grisha inventions like corecloth etc in the name of unification and supplied it to First Army. Read point 2 once more to understand the cruel nature of this act. He felt Grisha were hoarding better supplies but did not question why the First Army were having subpar things because if he did then the blame would rest on his father and his corrupt noble supporters. So he chooses to steal using the unification propaganda. How noble!

Sent Grisha who were not of age to war fronts and missions. Why not send the First Army? Are there no highly skilled people in the First Army for such things?

Manipulated and used Alina to establish himself. Atleast Aleksander 'manipulated' her for the betterment of Grisha, Nikolai did it for himself.

Destroyed everything Aleksander did for Grisha in the name of unification. Or should we call it erasure? He erased centuries of progress and left them without protection.

He claimed Aleksander used his Grisha selfishly for 'his' wars and then shamelessly sends his minions to recruit them from other countries.

If Nikolai was indeed a just and kind king as the antis claim him to be, why didn't he announce Grisha as a protected class? Why didn't he offer them equal rights as a Ravkan citizen? Through his own spies he knows what is happening to them in Fjerda, Shu-Han and Kerch and yet knowingly he lets Zoya abolish the rule of finding and securing the Grisha children (which mind you, saved Zoya from child marriage).

Aleksander was not just a person, he carried the history of the Grisha that was rapidly being erased. He built a place to pass down that knowledge, their culture and practices. If Grisha were not tested and found, who would save them if they died from wasting sickness, who would offer them protection from slavers and Fjerdans? Once again in the name of 'liberation' Nikolai had truly pushed them into hiding. Without these laws what happens when anti-grisha sentiments raise again after a few centuries? He removed every true protection and erased a targeted group's shared history in the name of liberation.

In the end, Nikolai did not protect his country nor the Grisha. He is in no way the hero of this story nor is his echo chambers whom he calls friends. I could go on and on. Truth is, it is not my intention to minimize things like SA or genocide. These are heavy topics and should be treated as such. Readers or antis who throw around such words should know the weight of such words. I hope this sheds some light on the hypocrisy that resides in this fandom.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk!

[the-sparrows-providence]

Idk about anyone else but the whole yakuza-owned made up sports team with ties to the Baltimore mob always heightened my suspension of disbelief through the series, especially when it came to anything that happened in the Nest. But taking an actual look at it, the “cult” aspect of the Ravens is actually probably the most believable part of the whole series.

Not to be a true crime stereotype but when comparing them to irl cults, they check nearly every box:

Single (unstable) figurehead as the ultimate source of truth and power? Check.

Complete control over every aspect of member’ lives? Check.

Constant surveillance to assert even more control, usually by forcing members to stay in one location? Check.

Additional surveillance by always being with at least one other member to keep each other in check and to prevent disobedience by threat of being reported (Mormonism)? Check.

Figurehead has hand-picked “inner circle”? The Perfect Court is a Check.

Causing extreme exhaustion via food-restriction and sleep deprivation (re: Jonestown & Scientology) making members even more susceptible to control? Check.

Public humiliation and punishment? Check.

Sowing doubt and mistrust among members to prevent solidarity forming against the figurehead and to encourage reporting other members via McCarthyism-esc system? Check.

Creating financial dependency so members aren’t able to even afford their own food & clothing? Check.

Isolating members from their friends and family to create a dependency on the cult as their sole support network and community? Check.

Devotion to the group causing members being willing to sacrifice themselves to the cause? Check.

Harassment intimidation and violence against members who manage to escape? Check.

Targeting vulnerable individuals? Yeah I’d consider 18-19 year old kids living away from home and family for the first time ever as pretty fkn vulnerable. Check.

Normalized sexual abuse? Check.

Using sexual abuse as another method of punishment and control? Check.

Usually a figurehead with internalized homophobia (Jim Jones claimed to be the only “truly straight man” while simultaneously sleeping with raping the male members of his inner circle)? I mean have you seen Riko? Check.

Another thing: unless they’re born into the cult, most members choose to join. Usually via manipulation, scare tactics, and lies and trying to escape later is another story, but joining is still a choice. And most Ravens choose to stay. Except for Jean and Kevin. They had no choice, literal property with no one to protect them and physically no way to leave.

Which is why I always found Abby’s “My Foxes chose to fight back.” to be insanely cruel.

Bc Jean couldn’t fight back. He was sold to a cult, which are extremely effective in breaking the willpower of even the people who chose to be there. Fighting back would have literally killed him.

Idk where I was trying to go with this but I think all of this is one of the reasons my heart breaks for Jean more than any other character.

[mrsdesade]

Hey, could you write a homelander x reader where she works at Vought and unknowingly gets his attention and he stalks her?

Hi dear anon, thanks for your patience!! I don't have much time to write full fics these days, because life is happening and I'm very busy physically and mentally, but I can happily offer some headcanons 💕

Homelander's obsessive behaviors headcanons

First of all, his romantic gestures, while seemingly sweet, are often rooted in his need for control and his inability to understand healthy relationships. His actions can be seen as manipulative and even frightening, especially when considering his overall personality and powers.

Constant surveillance: He would employ his super hearing and x-ray vision to keep a constant watch on you. He might use these abilities to monitor your home, workplace, or any other place you frequently visit.

Data collection: He'd collect as much information as possible about his current obsession: you. This could include your daily routines, social media activity, and even your deepest fears and desires. He might use his Vought resources to access private databases.

Preserving memories: Homelander might keep a collection of items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair or a piece of your clothing. Oh God If you gift something to him, he's going to cherish this like a museum piece.

Love bombing: He'll shower you with love and attention, he loves doing it, especially at the beginning of the relationship, to reel you in.

Unwanted gifts: Homelander would often leave small, often expensive gifts for his favourite persons in unexpected places. These gifts could be anything from flowers to jewelry, and they would always be personalized to show how well he knows you. Often with small notes inside. Doll, baby, my girl, nicknames are on plate.

Sudden appearances: Homelander would frequently appear where you least expects him. He might show up at yor work, your home, or even a random location you're visiting. At least three times at week, minimum.

Testing your loyalty: He might create situations to test your loyalty to him. This could involve putting you in a difficult position or asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Excessive praise: When you two are together he would shower you with compliments, often going overboard and making you feel uncomfortable. He might even compare you to other people, always putting you on a pedestal. You're his precious treasure and he loves you so goddamn much.

Isolation tactics: He might try to isolate you from their friends and family at some point, making you believe that he is the only one who truly understands your needs.

Future planning: He might make elaborate plans for your future together, down to the smallest details, without ever consulting you. He'll make grand plans for the two of you for sure. This could include things like buying a house together or having children.

Gaslighting: If you decide to start to question his behavior, Homelander might resort to gaslighting. He could make you doubt their own perceptions and memories, making you believe that you're just imagining things.

Public displays of affection: Homelander might engage in very public displays of affection, such as putting his arm around you in front of a crowd, or giving you a very long, lingering kiss. This is partly to show off his "perfect couple" image, but also to mark his territory.

Obsession with physical touch: Homelander might find ways to touch you, in every moment, he need that, even if it's just brushing against them or holding their hand. He would crave any form of physical contact.

Nightmares and sleep disturbances: His obsession for you would consume his thoughts, leading to vivid nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He might even develop a fear of losing you really easily. Despite his outward confidence, Homelander has a deep-seated fear of being abandoned. This fear can lead him to become increasingly possessive and controlling.

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Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕