#current thought spiral we keep repeating…..

[villainsidestep]

(hums loudly) much to think abt

[brisquad-unit-4402]

vanvan bans a man

i had so much fun with that title. you know what else is fun? the jealous vanta kick i’m on atm. i’ve got another possessive vanta fic in the works and really fighting the urge to post jealous krisis (polykrisis even⁉️)

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, protective vanta, reader has a shitty ex-boyfriend, jealousy, vanta calls you "mine" and other subtle possessive dialogue, unspecified what your ex has done in the past, the boys are fightinggggggg

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, a vibrating phone is what wakes you up today. Which is really quite a bummer; you’re used to waking up on your own time in Vanta’s arms, or when he’s the first to rise and you can feel the mattress shift as he gets up.

The phone vibrates again, and you’re inclined to shut your eyes tight and let the text go unanswered, at least until you wake up proper. At the third buzz your mind connects the dots. It’s a call.

Your closed eyes sting as you rub them, then grab the phone with the other hand. The taste of sleepy breath cracks along your tongue as you mumble, “Hello?”

On the other end, you can hear shuffling and slinking, some ambient picture that you don’t have the sense to imagine right now. “Oh, you picked up.”

Your blood runs cold.

Oh, you recognize that voice. You recognize it damn well, no matter how hard you wished you wouldn’t hear it again. You told your ex in no uncertain terms to never contact you again last time you saw his face. He was lucky you couldn’t muster up the courage to curse him out as you broke it off.

Yet here you are, laying in bed at a weak hour. The screen, even in dark mode, singes your sights as you read the current time: 1:19 AM on a weekend night.

“Hey, Reader,” your ex continues, as if he didn’t know his voice was knives under your skin, needling you until something cracked open. “How’s it going?”

“Why are you calling me?” You ask faintly.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” he says.

You blink, the sleep in your eyes making way for shock. As it subsided, you could feel it growing into a nasty pool of anxiety in your throat. The sheets around you crinkle and shuffle as you repeat, “Why?”

“I dunno, sometimes I just wonder what you’re up to,” your ex drawls. He speaks like a long smoke, cigarette ash dusting his way-too-carefree tongue. “But if you really want to know, I got something to tell you.”

No, no, no. You know where this is going. A thousand rejections rumble up, but your lips are shut, stapled in place by your nerves. The world around you keeps moving while you’re frozen.

“I guess I should continue?” He chuckles for a moment. Smarmy. Incorrigible. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, more than usual. That means there’s something there, right? And I’m not ready to let go of it yet.”

You hear your name but this feels like a trap.

“We should try again,” you ex suggests. You can hear the smile in his voice, the way one corner of his lip curls before the other and the confident eyes. That was charming—until you got used to seeing the damn smirk whenever you apologized for something he should’ve owned up to himself. He’s a master at getting what he wants while casting you off to the side.

You hear your name being called again as you get lost in your haze. “Reader,” Vanta murmurs. He turns to you, looping his sleepy hands around your waist. “Who’re you calling? Tell them I said hello.”

The other line shuffles for a moment. “You’re still with him?”

“Are they talking about me?” Vanta yawns. “Hello.”

Great. Now you’re stuck between two men that care for you: the one that broke your heart time and time again, and a tired tyrant spooning you as he wakes up. At least Vanta’s gentle grasp is grounding you while you can feel your thoughts spiral.

The ex hesitates. “I didn’t think he’d last long,” he says aloud.

“Hey,” Vanta sets his chin on your shoulder. He pouts, ready to whine, but then he glances at the phone screen and the contact name. “Wait, is that…?”

“So you must be the boyfriend.”

“Yeah, this is he. Give me the phone, Reader.”

Passing it off feels like a burden.

Vanta rolls onto his back, but keeps an arm by your waist. You place your hand on his, hoping that the veins and knuckles soothe you as you rub them.

Ex-Boyfriend starts. “Well, I don’t—“

“What the hell is your problem calling at ass o’clock in the morning to harass Reader,” Current Boyfriend snaps. A switch flipped. Usually when he's groggy, his low voice is soothing, but now the rumble of interrupted rest makes his voice growl, dangerous and menacing. "Should I even ask why you thought this was a good idea? The fuck did you think was going to happen? If Reader said you're done, then you're done. You're cooked. Golden brown, deep-fried, burnt to a crisp, cooked. You’re done."

"I don't need your permission to talk to Reader."

"L-O-L? Yes, you do?" Vanta says, so baffled his jaw drops. "If you're going to hit on my partner, I have a right to tell you to eat shit. Not to mention how weird you were in the past, and how weird you are now. Like, if you really cared for Reader you'd delete this number and go on with your life instead of calling like a creep at one in the morning!"

"Fuck off, it was important."

"You fuck off! What's important is that you leave Reader the hell alone.” Vanta practically spits as he hisses at the man on the line, even though his volume is barely below his usual speaking voice. Underneath your grasp, his hand tightens around your waist. The seam of your shirt curls as he pulls you close. “You try that shit again and I’ll tear you apart. Reader’s mine, not yours. Got it?”

He doesn’t even wait for the ex to respond before continuing. “Glad to hear it. Goodnight.” Vanta hangs up without a second thought. You watch the phone’s light illuminate his face as the screen returns to normal, casting a pale glow around his nose and his furrowed brows. “Bitch,” he adds, still frowning at the screen.

Purple eyes glance at you. At the contact, he sighs, placing your phone down so he can wrap both of his arms around you properly. He rests his hand along the back of your neck, thumbing along the soft skin and setting his forehead along yours, eyes now downcast.

“Sorry,” he says, far gentler than when he was on the phone. “I wish you didn’t have to hear any of that.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s just the way that he was talking about you, and your history with him was pissing me off. I just couldn’t hold back. I’m—“

“Thank you,” you choke out.

“—Really sorry,” Vanta says at the same time. “Wait, huh?”

But you don’t even respond. Instead you bury yourself into your partner’s chest, trying to control your breathing. You’re overwhelmed with anxiousness but at least Vanta’s shirt smells like him.

His palm goes from your neck down to your back, rubbing circles as you try to calm yourself. Vanta mumbles. It’s muffled through his shirt and arms around you, but you’d assume it’s consoling. His throat hums and vibrates along your temple in soothing rhythms as he speaks.

Now that the emotional overload is dwindling, your grip tightens around him like you’re holding a stress ball. You murmur. “I really didn’t want to talk to him.”

Vanta’s heart breaks at that admission. You feel him readjust his position and hear the telltale pulse of a kiss at the top of your head. “You don’t have to,” he says. “He’s not worth it.

“Makes me sick thinking that some people are so entitled that they can just hurt you and act like nothing happened,” Vanta continues. “You deserve to be treated like royalty, and you deserve better than him. Screw him.”

Your boyfriend pats your back as you recompose yourself. You bitterly cast a glance at the phone, still resting face-down from the call earlier. “I’m sorry you had to take care of it.”

“Don’t feel bad. That’s the bare minimum.” He kisses you again on your forehead. “You just rest, it’s late for you.”

“It’s late for you, too, Vanta.”

“I’ll manage.” He grins. “Gotta protect my baby somehow.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[writing0305]

The repeated cycle.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: You have an on and off again relationship with Billy and on the off days, you both find comfort in other people's arms. After five off days, spending your time with another man, Billy shows up at your apartment,

Warning: Heavy swearing(It's Billy Butcher!!) Also, Billy Butcher. Toxic relationship.

No one really knew or understood what that something was. Sometimes you didn’t either. You and Billy fucked. A lot. And he had this strange soft spot for you with a mix of extreme protectiveness. But you two also fought. A lot.

Your relationship with Billy Butcher was a very complicated one. Ever since you joined the boys in their spiraling path for vengeance against the supes, all fueled by Billy’s own anger towards the supes, you and Billy hand something.

And whenever a big fight would hit, you two would pull away from each other. He’d bury himself in the first woman he could find and you’d find a guy to bury himself inside you. On these breaks between you and Butcher, you tended to keep one guy around instead of indulging in every guy you came across. It would last for a few days, maybe a week or two. At this time, you wouldn’t attend any meetings with the boys or go on any missions. And then Butcher would have enough and come to find you.

This was a cycle that had been repeating for a very long time. And the cycle was currently in full swing. You had been avoiding Billy and the rest of the boys after you were made to go on a mission with Kimiko as a groupie for a supe party.

It was a standard mission. You two were only meant to get some information and record a few faces and conversations that could ruin one's image. Then one of them copped a feel and you saw red. You didn’t take your anger out on the supe, but rather on Butcher for making you go into that filthy place. You knew you were a better match against Butcher than the supe.

Harsh words were exchanged between the two of you. You slapped Billy, he knocked over a table and called you a cunt. You left and five days later none of them has heard or seen you since. Frenchy and Hughie showed up at your apartment once, trying to get you to come back. But you were too stubborn and would only come back once you received an apology from Butcher.

Your five days were spent with a man named Marcus. He was tall and lean with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked too fucking much like Homelander to you. But he was a good fuck and he was nice so you looked past it.

Your days with Marcus were only spent inside your apartment. While Butcher wasn’t coming to your apartment to come get you, you were well aware he was most likely looking for you and keeping an eye out for you. You couldn’t risk leaving your apartment, especially not with Marcus on your arm.

Now you were currently sitting on your old brown leather couch, staring blankly at the TV as Marcus watched one of Homelander’s old supe movies. He loved the supes and thought they were the good guys. And with his resemblance to the leader of the seven, he idolized the man.

“So I was thinking we could go to the movies tonight?” Marcus suggested as he glanced over at you, quirking an eyebrow with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You breathed in softly as you looked at him from the other side of the couch, your feet tugged onto the edge of the couch, knees pressed to your chest. For the past five days, you’ve been trying to avoid the topic of going out into the public with him “Oh…you want to go out?” You asked softly as you raised your eyebrows, pursing your lips.

He slowly nodded his head as he gave you a half-hearted shrug. “We’re always cooped up in your apartment,”  he muttered softly as he waved a hand over your small apartment.

You sighed softly as you nodded while getting up to your feet, busying your hands with cleaning the takeaway trash on the coffee table. “Yeah…well there’s reasons.” You muttered softly.

Marcus stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes squinted. “Why are you so scared of being seen out with me?” he questioned as his gaze followed you when you made your way into the kitchen to toss the trash.

“Why are you pushing this so much?” You questioned with a huff as you turned towards him, crossing your arms over your chest.  “We’re just fucking, not dating.” You uttered with a shake of your head as you shrugged your shoulders.

You were scared enough of Butcher finding you with Marcus, that you were prepared to be an unnecessary bitch to the man. It was for his safety at the end of the day. As a few years prior, Butcher beat one of your flings to a pulp when he grabbed your ass in front of Butcher.

“Then why the fuck am I over here all the time even when we don’t fuck?” Marcus questioned as he raised his eyebrows, pausing his movie as he got up to his feet and turned towards you, hands resting on his hips.

You sighed softly. For the past five days, you and Marcus didn’t just fuck. You hung out, ate shitty takeaways, and watched shitty movies. You chatted and relaxed together, having a few beers and getting downright drunk before passing out. By no means did you have feelings for him, but a part of you enjoyed his company in the absence of Butcher in your life.

“Look…I’m not the relationship type girl.” You muttered softly as you shrugged your shoulders again, pursing your lips as you stared at him.

He silently stared back at you for a second before slowly nodding his head. “With me.” He replied just as your phone began ringing.

You gave your phone a quick glance, swiping the red button on Butcher’s name before turning your attention back to Marcus. “What?” You questioned as your eyebrows furrowed. Your phone rang again and you rolled your eyes as you put it on silent before placing it on a nearby side table.

“You don’t want to be in a relationship with me,”  Marcus replied as he pointed at himself while taking a step closer to you.

You sighed again. “Can we not do this right now?” You asked softly with a shake of your head. Your attention was drawn towards your phone as your screen lit up with the silent call from Butcher.

Marcus followed your gaze, eyebrows furrowing as the screen changed to your background image of you, Frenchie, Hughie, and Kimiko, before flashing with the caller ID once again.

“Whose calling you?” he asked as his gaze turned towards you.

“Work.” You replied as your lips pulled into a tight line and you grabbed your phone and swiped the red button once again. A second later, Butcher’s caller ID popped right back up again. He truly had no end.

Marcus quirked an eyebrow at you. “You’re not going to answer your work call?” He questioned as his head tilted to the side.

You shook your head as you pursed your lips. “No, the boss is a cunt.” You muttered softly as you swiped the red button on yet another call. A mere second later, there was a loud knock at your front door. More like a bang. Your blood ran cold as your body tensed.

Marcus looked over at the door, eyebrows furrowing. “Whose that?” He asked as he turned to you, raising his eyebrows.

You sighed deeply. “Speak of the cunt and he appears like the fucking devil.” You huffed as you ran a frustrated hand through your hair, refusing to take even a step closer to the door, knowing fully well who was on the other side.

There was another bang against the door again. “Y/n, open the door before I break it down, yeah?” Butcher called out from the other side, his voice deadly calm. Too fucking calm that it sent a chill down your spine.

You took a deep breath, sending a weary glance at Marcus before slowly walking towards the door. You opened it barely an inch and popped your head out. “Butcher.” You muttered curtly as you stared at him, keeping a strong hold on your front door, knowing he was going to try and push his way inside. “What do you want?” You questioned as you quirked an eyebrow.

Butcher stared at you, his head tilting to the side. Already you could tell he was suspicious of you. You never restricted him from entering your apartment. “I’ve been callin',” he muttered in a low voice.

You hummed as you nodded your head. “Yeah, I saw.” You replied softly.

Butcher silently stared at you for a second before he quirked an eyebrow. “You gonna let me in, luv?” he questioned, his voice still low and his eyes still suspicious.

You stared back at him, your lips pulling into a tight line. “I…can’t.” You uttered as you slowly shook your head.

Butcher’s chin tilted up as he stared down at you, his gaze turning a little cold. “Let me in,” he demanded in a low voice as he pressed his hand against the door, not pushing against it, but his eyes held a warning that he would push it open if you didn’t open it for him before his patience ran out.

You inhaled sharply as you decided to stand your ground. “No.” You refused, your voice firm as you shook your head.

Butcher inhaled sharply, his head tilting to the side again. “I swear, I’ll break down the fuckin' door,” he warned as he gave you a sharp look, that held more of a promise than a threat in them.

You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Marcus, who was silently listening to the whole conversation between you and Butcher. The small crack you had opened the door to, didn’t allow Butcher to see into your apartment, but the small action of looking back over your shoulder, told him someone was in there with you.

”Right now is really not a good time.” You muttered with a shake of your head as your gaze returned to Butcher.

He hummed as he nodded his head before pushing your door. “I don’t care, luv,” he replied in a low voice. His strength was for more than yours and you stumbled back with the force he pushed the door open. You inhaled sharply as he stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind him, his attention immediately on Marcus. “Well, who the fuck is this?” Butcher asked as he turned his face towards you, quirking an eyebrow.

You pursed your lips as you kept your gaze on Butcher. “This is Marcus.” You replied softly.

“Marcus.” Butcher repeated with a slow nod of his head before his gaze drifted towards the blonde. He took slow strides towards Marcus and you followed behind him. “What the fuck you doing here, Marcus?” He questioned as he quirked an eyebrow.

Marcus stared at Butcher, his eyes slightly wide. He was visibly intimidated by the larger man in front of him. “Hanging out with Y/n…” he replied as his gaze darted towards you for a split second.

Butcher hummed as he nodded his head, his lips tugging into his usual side smirk. “Oh, that what you call fuckin' nowadays?” He questioned as he glanced at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows.

You inhaled and sighed deeply as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you here, Butcher?” You questioned as your head tilted to the side.

Butcher took a few quick strides towards you. His actions were fast and sharp, enough to make anyone flinch away from him. But you knew, no matter what or how pissed off he was, he’d never hurt you. So you stood completely still, even when he lowered his face inches away from yours.

“Because you ain’t answering yer fuckin phone.” He muttered in a low voice as he glared down at you. “Too busy blowing Marcus here? Giving him a nice handy?” he questioned as he wrapped his hand into a fist and made suggestive movements with it as he nodded his head back at Marcus.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Marcus said as he took one step forward but immediately took two steps back when Butcher turned his head to face the tall blonde.

“You ain’t in this conversation,” Butcher muttered as his head slightly tilted to the side. “Cunt.” he added with a huff.

“Billy.” You snapped at the man in front of you, eyebrows deeply furrowed as a frown tugged at your lips.

Butcher’s attention turned back to you. His head tilted to the side again and he stared at you silently for a second. “You fucking him?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

You stared up at him, jaw clenching as you nodded your head without hesitation. “Yeah, I am.” You replied, with a challenging look in your eyes.

A low growl-like sound escaped from the back of his throat as he glared down at you before completely turning around to face Marcus. “Right, get out before I break both your fucking legs, Marcus.” He demanded as he pointed his thumb toward the front door.

“You can’t kick me out.” Marcus huffed with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms over his chest and you raised your eyebrows, eyes darting towards Butcher as you pursed your lips. As if Marcus wasn’t already in danger by just being here, now he was talking back to Butcher.

Butcher’s lopsided smirk returned as he took a threatening step toward Marcus. “Now is that a challenge?” He questioned and before he could take another step toward Marcus you grabbed onto his arm. You knew if he reached Marcus, your living room would turn into a blood bath.

I sighed softly as I turned to Marcus, giving him an apologetic smile. “Marcus, I’ll call you later,” I told him and his face contoured into annoyance and frustration as he realized I picked Butcher over him.

Marcus grabbed his things and made his way over to the front door. He had to pass by Butcher and the dark-haired man reached out, patting Marcus on the chest a little harder than necessary. “Cheers mate,” he said, his smirk remaining as Marcus pushed past him and rushed to the door.  “Don’t go being a cunt out there,” Butcher called out as he pointed toward the man before the door slammed closed, leaving only the two of you.

You let go of Butcher's arm, huffing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You questioned as you raised your eyebrows.

“That who you fuckin nowadays?” Butcher questioned as he began walking around the open space of your apartment, familiarizing himself with all the new things added to the place since he had last been here. “It’s a bloody downgrade,” he commented.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “From you?” You questioned as your gaze followed him around, watching him as he went through your things.

“Yeah.” He replied confidently as he turned to face you, his smirk returning to his face. “I’m a handsome devil, ain’t I?” he spoke, more of a statement than a question, his arms spreading out by his side.

“You’re a fucking devil yeah, I won’t argue with that.” You muttered with another roll of your eyes as you walked through the apartment and leaned against the small dining room table that stood between your living room and kitchen.

“Didn’t know ya fancied blondes.” He commented as he continued looking through your things. His gaze caught sight of the paused Homelander movie on your tv and he scoffed, turning to you with a ‘are you fucking serious?’ look on his face.

You rolled your eyes in response. “Yeah turns out they're less of cunts than dark-haired men.” You replied as your gaze turned to the hardwood floor beneath your feet.

Butcher approached you, planting his hands down on the table on either side of you, caging you in as he leaned down so that his face was inches away from yours. “Oh Y/n, you always know how to talk dirty to me.” He taunted with his one-sided smirk.

“You’re pissing me off, you should go.” You muttered softly as you stared up at him. Even when leaning down, he was still taller than you.

“Should I?” he questioned as he raised his eyebrows in a challenging manner and you hummed as you nodded your head. “You don’t want me to stay and show ya how much better I am than that twat?” he questioned as he nodded his head towards the door, where Marcus had just left through a few minutes ago.

You crossed your arms over your chest and squinted your eyes at him. “Are you better?” You asked in a sassy tone, as your head tilted to the side and his smirk grew wider.

“You never hid me away in ya apartment.” he reminded you as he reached out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and you fought the urge to lean into his touch.

“You never gave me much of a choice, did you?”  You muttered as you quirked an eyebrow at him. You wouldn’t even be able to attempt to hide Butcher away in your apartment. Like he forced his way into your apartment, he forced himself into every aspect of your life. When you two were together, or whatever you could call it, he was like glue stuck to your side.

“Ya never protested.” He replied as he pushed himself away from the table and crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t move away from yoy, still standing close enough that you couldn’t escape him.

“If you’re not here to apologize, you can fuck off.” You spat at him as your jaw clenched and your gaze turned cold.

“Apologize?” He repeated as his eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side. “For fuckin what?” he questioned with a huff.

“Sending me and Kamiko into the fucking supe orgy.” You snapped as you shoved his chest while huffing in anger and frustration. But Butcher didn’t budge. He remained rooted in his spot as he stared down at you.

He sighed softly and pursed his lips. “Y/n, I wouldn’t have sent ya in there if I didn’t think ya could handle yourself.” He muttered softly.

“That’s not an apology .” You muttered as you pushed yourself off the table, standing toe to toe with Butcher. The look in your eyes was enough to let him know you wouldn’t accept anything but an apology.

“Fine.” he sighed as he rolled his eyes. “I’m fuckin sorry, yeah?” He apologized. It was a shitty-mannered apology. But it was Billy, and he rarely fucking apologized for anything, so it was still something. “I’m sorry luv,” he muttered softly as he reached out can cupped your cheek.

You sighed as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. “I hate you so much, Billy.” You whispered and he hummed softly as he nodded his head. He understood and he knew why, and he hated the fact, he hated himself for making you feel this way. But he couldn’t change his ways, no matter how hard he tried. But he couldn’t let you go either, he couldn’t accept the thought of losing you.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Like always, like every time the cycle repeated, you accepted his kiss. Because you were no better than Butcher. You’d accept all his bullshit as long as you had him. Because you couldn’t accept the thought of losing him either.

[sannirio]

safe and sound [pt 2.]

part. 1 part. 3

wc: 1456

dom san x amab sub reader

18+ MINORS DNI 「im serious」

cw - non!idol au, werewolf san, size kink, mention of death, mention of anxiety and anxiety attacks.

A/N it's here! sorry it took so long to put out. part 3 will come asap lol

a soft light woke you up, the warmth of the light was accompanied by the warmth of san’s body and the steady rising and falling of his chest. his arms were still wrapped around you, one hand was on your hair the other around your waist. lowering your head back down onto his chest you took a breath in. he smelled so good, sweet, floral, his body was like a massive pillow, it was so soft, even his muscles were comforting. while you were distracted by his body you heard a yawn and felt his hand, the one on your head, move softly brushing your hair. 

“mmmmmh, good morning sweetheart” he mumbled, planting a kiss on your forehead. “how did you sleep?” “i slept really good” you whispered in response. with how fast and hard you fell asleep, good was an understatement, perfect was more accurate. he smiled looking down at you, squeezing your waist slightly. “shall we eat hun?” san asked. you nodded your head yes, you were so hungry. 

you sat down by the fire pit, which had been re lit. san was busy in the corner where he had been the day prior, making food. the current situation was so weird, stuck in a cave, completely lost, with a man, no werewolf, a handsome one, but a werewolf? 

you couldn’t help but wonder what someone else would’ve done in your situation. run? maybe. but san was too kind. the thought of your friends slipped back into your mind again. right now? san must have noticed how you were feeling because he was by your side within a second. “are you ok? what’s wrong” worry plastering his voice. “nothing.” it wasn’t nothing, obviously. tears started to well up in the corners of your eyes until they spilled over, running down your soft face. it hurt a lot, not knowing what your friends were thinking, not knowing where they were. everything you felt the night prior came surging back into your consciousness. you could feel your heart racing, getting to a point where it made you dizzy. an anxiety attack. perfect. san pulled you into his lap, wiping your tears away “what’s wrong?” he asked.  he started rubbing your back trying to calm the shaking. although speaking was hard, you were able to get out a few words. “i miss my friends” the sentence stung, unfortunately adding to the spiral you were heading down. 

those words hit san like a truck. obviously he knew you’d miss them, you had no idea where you were or where your friends were. he wasn’t planning on keeping you here for long to begin with, but hearing you so upset tore him apart. “is there anything i can do baby?” trying to be as soft as possible not wanting you to hear his sudden wave of sadness. all you could do was nod. san kept on rubbing your back, moving his hand in predictable circles, trying to get your mind onto the rhythm of his movement instead of focusing on the things you were thinking about right now. the two of you could talk about that later. “look at me” he whispered, you did, tears still streaming down your face. “breath with me” 

san took a breath in, keeping his eyes locked with yours. you followed along, taking a shallow shakey breath. “good job” he said “again” you both took a deep breath, this time yours was a bit more calm than the last. “good job” san repeated. the back rubs were definitely helping. a few more breaths later and the continuous circular motion of his hands, most of the anxious feeling was gone. your heart still hurt but you could breath more or less. 

“do you want to talk about your friends” san asked, he tried to be as careful as possible, he didn’t want you to feel any worse than you do. “yeah,” the shakiness hadn’t completely left your body. “what’s wrong, what about your friends is making you upset?” “i miss them, i don’t know if they think i’m dead, they could be so worried. i just want to see them.” san felt his heart sink. he wanted you to be 100% well so you could leave, but seeing how upset you are was to much. “i’m sorry honey, you need to feel 100%, i don’t want you to get hurt again.” you knew that already, obviously you couldn’t just waltz your way back, you didn’t have the strength for that. “i know” you spoke very softly, the anxiety you had just felt honestly wore you out. “you need to eat” san said putting you back down on the floor and proceeding to standing up. “i think you’ll feel better after and we can talk about your friends while you eat.” 

after you had eaten, and spent time talking about your friends, the two of you were sitting at the edge of the cave. you hadn't realized how high up you two were. the entrance of the cave was basically just at the edge of a cliff. “its so pretty” you thought. the trees below were beautiful, moss was scatered around the edge of the cliff. “why did you go camping again?” san asked. you looked at him and smiled. “well, the three of us don’t go out much because of university so we decided to go camping, we like autumn a lot and it was the only week we could all go.” san was looking at you with just as much interest as he had during lunch. he smiled “that sounds so sweet. i wish i could go out camping with friends.” san then turned to look out the cave entrance and sighed. “you should come with us next time!” excitement evident on your face. he looked back at you smiling sadly. that look was upsetting, he looked tired somehow. as if he read your mind he finally spoke again. “i would love to but i can’t.” that was confusing, why couldn’t he? he's still somewhat human right? “when i turn, it’s hard to control myself.” san looked even more sad than before. “what does that mean.” you were now looking at him, “well im an animal when i turn, like a regular wolf, i'm dangerous.” 

you thought for a second. “but you didn't hurt me when you found me.” the proceeding silence was tense. the only thing that was audible was the sound of running water, possibly from a waterfall, off in the distance. minutes passed, san didn’t say anything at all. you felt awkward, had you said something wrong? rude? offensive? “i'm… i'm sorry” you stuttered “i didn’t mean to..” san cut you off, turning to you quickly. “no, it’s ok.” he spoke softly his face mere inches from yours. you could feel his breath brush your face. you could tell you were getting red. this was totally the wrong time but you couldn’t help but look down at his lips. “you’re different” san whispered, matching your dropping gaze. “how?” “you’re the first person that i’ve been able to control myself against. i didn’t hurt you.” somehow that sentence made your already aching heart flutter. san put his hand on your face slowly moving it from your cheek to your chin, lifting your face up to meet his gaze. his lips snatched away from your view. not fair! you felt sans thumb graze your lips. the sensation of his soft finger made you shiver. “you’re so beautiful” san whispered. the phrase was like music. “i want to protect you, keep you safe. i’ve never been able to keep my instincts from taking over, but for you, your presence keeps me human.” 

you could melt at that very moment. you felt drunk, his words were intoxicating. before you could react or respond san kissed you, his lips connecting with yours, it was like a pillow. you breathed in sharply before reciprocating his kiss, you wanted to be his. just this kiss was enough to make you pass out. san pulled you onto his lap continuing to kiss you. he broke away for just a second. “if you want me to stop please tell me and i will.” you nodded, showing you understood. the safety net was reassuring but you wanted him, all of him. your lips connected with his once again. san stood up still kissing you. he wrapped your legs around his waist and held onto your butt to keep you from falling down. something about this swift motion reminded you just how large he was compared to you, he could easily overpower you, and do what he wanted to you, something about that was right though, that's exactly what you wanted to happen. 

sannirio©

[offbrandkyoya]

60 scara the widower

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Scaramouche is very lonely. He’s never felt so empty before. He misses you so much, like he’ll ever admit that. Practices were okay. It made him want to gauge his eyes out but anything for his fans.

Scaramouche turns off the music and sits on the floor while taking a sip of water. He’s sweating like crazy and he feels his head spiral. The boys trained separately for 3 hours and the rest is practicing together. Currently, Scaramouche is separated from the others. He kind of missed the loud noises.

He closes his water bottle before staring at the ceiling. He wanted to call you, see how you were doing but his phone got taken away. He wouldn’t get it back till the end of the day which was at night. He didn’t like the idea calling you at night since he cares about your health. Kind of hypocritical since he didn’t care much about his own.

Scaramouche pulls his knees up and rests his chin. “I miss yn…” He mumbled. He’s all alone so he didn’t care about speaking out loud. It’s just him and his thoughts. “Why did I sign up for this if it meant id be away from them?” He sighs before standing up. “I hope they’re okay.” He knows that people at your campus don’t like you at all and he can’t help but worry. You have Thoma and now…

“Fuck.” He says, remembering he’s keeping a secret from you. Scaramouche runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t like the idea of not telling you about Albedo and Kaeya. Obviously, it was none of your business to know their relationship but he fears something will happen to your friendship. You get along well with Albedo that he can’t help but think, if Kaeya spills the truth, Albedo would no longer want to be associated with you.

Not only him but Thoma as well. The blonde has some kind of relationship with Diluc and that can also ruin everything. Scaramouche just wants to make sure that you don’t only have him or 5WIRL. He growls, “I’m not their mom.” His face softens, “Still, I love-“ The door opens and enters his manager.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” He hated her guts. Getting special treatment is kind of annoying. Yet, he doesn’t want to cause any problems so he acts oblivious. “No, I was just relaxing.” “I see but don’t relax too much.” Scaramouche nods and his manager closes the door, walking closer to him. “Listen, Scaramouche.” She rubs her hands.

“About that concert where you…had a reaction…” Scaramouche raises a brow but says nothing. “I need you to be focused. It’s not that I’m angry at you. I’m just concerned. You need to learn how to control your emotions. We don’t want you to look bad in front of everyone.” Scaramouche felt his insides boil. How was he supposed to know his mom was gonna show up that night? He hasn’t seen that woman in years.

“Okay.” Was all he said and she smiles. “Good. Gosh, you’re a much better listener than the rest. Out of all of them you have the most potential considering-“ She paused. “Considering?” He repeats. Her smile falters but continues, “Nothing. You’re just better. So much better that, you can be the new leader.” His eyes widen and she laughs. “Just a suggestion.” “What about Venti?”

Suddenly, she frowns. “He’ll leave. He’s been here long enough and Zhongli isn’t easy to beat. I guess his time has run out. He’s pretty much a nuisance and does nothing but mistakes. Honestly, he should’ve given up long ago.” Scaramouche doesn’t say anything and she smiles again. “Well enough of that. Continue doing what you’re doing.”

She walks to the door but turns back around. “Oh right, I’ve been meaning to tell you; take off that ring. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” Then she left. Scaramouche brings his hand up to look at the ring. “Like hell I’m taking this off.”

Scaramouche felt sour after hearing all that. Him? The new leader? He scoffs at the thought. “As if.” He’s pretty unstable, mentally and emotionally, so he wouldn’t be right for the job. Plus, Ventis a good leader. He’s confused on his relationship with Zhongli so he can’t really say much on that. Scaramouche heads to the boombox and turns the music back on to continue practicing.

- I watched Barbie

- I also started watching legend of korra after avoiding it for so long

- I love mako

- 🩷

🏷️ @sakiimeo @coquettemaiden @rmiyuki @kur44pika @theblueblub @jxxji0309 @dreamsofminnie @ohmyfinggod @redactedhimbo @kunisbeloved @akagism2 @sketcheeee @thefandomcrow @beriiov @thenightsflower @yukiipc @scaraapologist @scarletttcroww @samyayaya @crucnhice @monaypo1 @feiherp @myaaones @warcelia @hangecanweholdhands @yuminako @valiryyz @screechingxiaolover @tiddieshakeshownu @ilovechuuyaa @d4y-dr3am3r @dazaisfavgf @swivy123 @ganyusbrideee @sagegreenthinks @the-left-glove @wonderland-fan @kylexzz @kaoyamamegami @whycantscarabereal @rvoulte @eunchaeluvr @lxkeeeee @silvermah @baby-bread-in @yelleloww @magica-ren @itzblazekun @im-inlovewithy0u @featuredtofu @ynverse @anastaxiah

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies - pt. 4

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.7k

Chapter Summary: Frankie brings you back to his motel

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. DUBCON, alcohol, drinking, mentions of SA, illudes to discomfort with actions, SMUT!!!! shower sex, unprotected p in v (idc that it is not realistic okay wrap your willies) dirty talk, Frankie is....wowza, derogatory use of whore

A/N: It's been a minute but here it is! Merry Christmas to those that celebrate, and hope you enjoy :)

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

As you arrive back at the home that Yovanna had set you up in for the week, you begin to panic.

Your hands begin to shake as the door shuts behind you, being able to breathe for the first time that day. How everything had already gone so sideways from what you thought, from what you anticipated, was setting you in a spiral. 

You find yourself at the kitchen sink, emptying the contents of your stomach and shutting your eyes in pain. Tears are welling up in your eyes at what you did that day, how you endured and convinced yourself everything was fine. 

How this…man...was waiting for you just beyond the door. 

You had this irksome thought in the back of your mind, telling you to just call Peña. It didn’t matter that the phone lines were probably bugged, you could convince yourself that you needed him if your stomach kept betraying you like it was. 

 Peña would get you out of here. He would tell you that you should have called him sooner. He would say this wasn’t worth it. 

But his nagging part of your brain kept repeating to yourself. 

You could do this.

You can do this. 

You will do this. 

You want to do this. 

You scoff out loud, wiping at your eyes before running the water and doing your best to clean the sink before walking toward the bathroom. You could do this; it had only been a day, and while things had not gone how you expected, there was clearly more going on. More than what Peña thought.  

The curiosity of how Santiago and this man in the jungle keeps you occupied as you raise the temperature of the water to practically boiling, scrubbing profusely at yourself. Your skin felt raw, but you continued to circle soap down the drain as you pondered. 

There were three men in that car that Santiago got into, and the driver was who stopped you. Covered in that much dirt tells you that he had been there a while, and likely had all of his friends close by. 

You can’t move past how his eyes traced over you; in a greedy way, but also assessing. He was curious about what your motive was long before he figured you out. And how quickly he figured it out…makes you question if you are actually any good at your job. 

You won’t be telling Peña about that. 

The water began to run cold, turning it off and stepping out to look in the mirror. Your grandmother’s voice rings through your ears as you examine the red splotches on your skin from over scrubbing. A long day of things you didn’t want to do could be washed away easily with a strong enough sponge. 

Your trembling hand reaches for the front door, settling your nerves and putting up the mask as you push it open into the humid air. The sun blinds you briefly, squinting your eyes to look for the car that was supposed to be waiting for you. 

I would love to see you again. I know my men wouldn’t mind either.

You swallow around nothing, angrily stepping toward the truck that is parked across the street. You know you need to appear happy, appear willing, but it's difficult when what information you thought you would be getting at the end of this week is not even close to what you need. 

You remind yourself of everything you’ve observed and discovered so far. There are ten security guards on one side of the compound at all times. They rotate every four hours to prevent tiredness. The only shift that wants your entertainment (at the moment) resides on the backside of the compound every late afternoon. 

That man that wanted to see you again is lurking outside at the same time, watching the back door. 

The feeling in your stomach clenches as the man in the driver's seat gives you a small wave, the smile you give back forced. You slide into the passenger seat with a quiet “hello”, watching his hand rest on your exposed thigh. 

The flowing red dress, muted by sun exposure but giving you an air of innocence all the same, slides out of his way as his hand climbs higher, settling on your chilled skin.

 In the back of your mind you wondered briefly if you should break his fingers and ruin this whole thing to shove it in Peña’s face, or if you should wait it out. Maybe, he would forgive you. 

The man, dirty in the jungle, flashes through your memory again, and for a brief moment your stomach settles. At least someone was out there watching over you, even if he didn’t have the best intentions either. 

Frankie knows his plan is not all that sound, but he doesn’t know any other way to go about it. 

Your red dress just two days later has his jaw slack, laying next to a bush that definitely has ants in it. He can’t see you from the window today, but he can hear your laugh through the walls of the main house. 

How you were already past just the security house and into the main home, has him floored. There is no way that you were that impressive…right?

When it goes quiet, his thoughts stop, ears straining to listen for any indication of you. 

“What are we seeing, Fish?” Pope whispers over his ear piece. 

Frankie waits a few seconds, reaching up to his lapel and sighing. “Nothing. Can’t hear anything either with you yapping in my ear.”

Silent for a bit longer, and then-

“Don’t sass me just because I’m interrupting you commiting her to your spank bank memory.” Pope snides through the ear piece. Frankie swears he can hear Benny laughing off in the distance somewhere, but all he can do is shake his head. 

“You did see that dress on her today, right? She’s playing innocent.” Will chimes. 

“I wouldn’t say she’s innocent-” Frankie pulls out his ear piece before Benny can finish his sentence, annoyed with himself for getting worked up. 

Suddenly the door flies open, your wobbling ankles stepping down the two steps and leaning against the railing before looking around. 

He watches you shake, head turning to look down and stepping out of the house and on to the trail. You’re pulling down the hem of your skirt as far as it will go, straining against itself. His eyes trail down your legs, interest peaking in how you stumble, holding yourself up with a hand against the fence post again. 

You lift your head, searching beyond the trees before turning yourself to the door you just appeared out of. Frankie shifts from his spot behind the bush, eyes never leaving your figure. He feels crawling up his arm and brushes it away, hoping that it isn’t a fire ant. 

You take steps forward along the trail, eyes searching through the darkness as he whistles lowly. He pulls the earpiece back to his face, securing it in place to find the men have gone quiet. You don’t freeze, only tilting your head in his general direction before continuing on and Frankie smiles. 

“I know you’re there.” You say lowly, stepping farther away from him so that once he is on his feet he has to side step, parallel with the path to keep up with you. 

“What are you looking for in there, hm?” He laughs. You turn your head another time before stepping off the gravel and in his general direction, bumping into him with a quiet huff. 

“What are you looking for out here?” You snark back, shoving your shoulder against him as your eyes adjust to the darkness the jungle provides. “What is Santiago up to?”

Frankie bites the inside of his cheek, looking over you briefly. Your hair has been made a mess, the corner of your mouth donned with a fresh cut. Your eyes are searching over his shirt, clocking the lapel microphone. 

He chooses to ignore it, eyes flashing to yours. “I’m looking for you, of course.”

When you cross your arms and pop your hip out, giving him a look of disgust, something in him wants to laugh. Not a whore, most certainly; you’re too defiant to be like the ones he has come across while here. “I’m trying to make some money. Yovanna said they have a lot of it, seems like an easy pay day.”

“I’m trying to make some money too.” He shrugs, playfully reaching forward with a finger and pulling down the front of your dress. It’s tight here, unable to move but he smiles all the same when you bat his hand away. 

“I only accept payment, asshole.” Another huff, a healthy step taken away from him towards the sun the path provides.

Frankie reaches out, fingers wrapping around your forearm to pull you back. “How much does it cost to get you on your knees for me?” He says quietly, eyes flicking over your face again as he pulls you closer. 

You pause, flipping your hair and shaking your head. “More than you have.”

He releases your arm, watches as you stay put. “What? You don’t take information as payment?”

Your expression remains  neutral as you watch him. Frankie smiles again, reaching for the belt of his pants; he’s been given a yes as far as he can tell. “What kind of information?”

Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “You get on your knees for me and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

You shift your weight between your feet, swallowing roughly. He watches as you glance around, suddenly nervous. “Not here.”

Frankie is surprised, eyebrows raising before he smirks. It’s the first time he glances around, suddenly wondering if his friends were watching. 

A giddy feeling in his chest squirms, eyes locking back on yours. “You know the motel a couple miles from here?” 

You nod. When you look down to your shoes and kick a rock, he reaches back for you. His hand rests at your shoulder, fingers subconsciously rubbing at the back of your neck.  “Two hours. Meet me at the front desk.”

You don’t agree, only swallow and take a step away from him. 

He looks to the part of your chest that is exposed, smiling at the raised skin and shiver you try to hide. Maybe you were a whore after all. 

“Hey.” He reaches for you again, holding you in place by your wrist. You don’t pull away, and he wants to tell himself it’s because you want him to touch you. “It’s Frankie.”

You try to smother a gasp, finally yanking your wrist out of his grip and turning toward the pathway again. 

You’re three steps behind him, his back facing you as he knows that you won’t do anything to him. He’s broad, shoulders visible through the shirt that sticks to him from the humidity. A sweat stain rests at his lower back, darker than the rest of the fabric as the door swings open and he steps inside. 

Meeting him at the front desk of the motel that you hoped he was referring to made you feel exposed. You had changed, having the security guard drive you back to Yovanna’s crash house for you to wash away the day. You had put on a more comfortable dress, longer but just a flowing, fluttering sleeves brushing your shoulders. 

Frankie had looked for you immediately, taking only a couple steps into the lobby of this motel before tilting his head for you to follow. No words exchanged as he climbed the stairs to the third level, pulling out a key from his back pocket. 

He turns to hold the door for you, motioning with his head of what he wants from you. This is the easy part. 

When the door shuts behind you, the pressure in the air shifts to something looser, something calm. “You want a drink? Or are you on the job?” Frankie teases, smirking when you try your best to not give him any reaction. 

“What have you got?” You question, stepping further into the motel room and scanning the bedside tables. Nothing of note besides a box of tissues that is limply standing under a yellowing lamp. You reach forward to adjust the box, noticing the redness from how hard you had been scrubbing at your arm and retreat. 

“Whiskey or beer?” Frankie mumbles, leaning down to the mini fridge and pulling out both. 

You shrug, accepting the first thing he blindly hands you and reading the label. He assumes beer for you, and as you open the top he unscrews the cap of the whiskey and watches you. He brings the drink up to his lips, taking a swig before offering you some. 

You switch after taking your own sip of beer, giggling after a swish of the whiskey burns the back of your throat. “Both, I guess.”

He watches, a small smile appearing after you tap the glass of the bottle with your index finger. “Sometimes both is good after a long day.”

You nod, taking another swig before offering it back to him. You’re nervous, and you’re trying to shake the feeling. There’s a pause in the conversation, your eyes flicking over him before realizing he is doing the same to you. 

How Frankie looks at you, how his eyes rake over you like he knows; he knows that you’re not local, he knows you have ulterior motives, he knows you aren’t who you say you are. He knows that you’re attracted to him. 

You like that he doesn’t dwell on each individual bruise and cut, that he doesn’t bring attention to it. He just knows how to move around you to settle you, to get what he wants and give you something in return. 

Even if it is purely transactional for him, you can’t help but enjoy it. 

“Are you going to tell me why you hide in the jungle everyday?” You squeak out, clearing your throat before taking another sip of the drink in your hand. 

Frankie smirks, shrugging. “I suppose it’s the same reason you go into that house, isn’t it?” He pauses, and you know he’s trying to catch a slip up. When you don’t respond, he does. “For the money.” 

You ponder this, setting the beer on the table in front of you. “Who’s paying you?”

Frankie splutters, coughing as he attempts to swallow the whiskey that was in his mouth. He clears his throat, shaking his head. “That’s not your concern.”

“You said you would tell me.” You argue, a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to slow down, that this is dangerous to be this pushy. 

“I said I would tell you what I was doing out there.” He corrects, standing up and setting the bottle down. He pulls his shirt over his head, shocking you into silence. “And I did-for the money. I didn’t even force you to give me a blowjob to give you the information.”

You feel your stomach churn again, nervousness spreading through you. His eyes rake over you, fingers traveling down his stomach to the button at his pants and snapping them open. 

“Let’s shower.” He announces, setting your drink to the side and yanking on your arm roughly, pulling you towards the open door to the dimly lit bathroom. 

Your heart races, standing with your hands wringing behind your back as the door clicks shut. Alcohol buzzes through your system, eyes flicking up to the mirror to watch as he strips his pants from his legs. 

“Off.” He says harshly, leaning into the shower stall and starting the water. He turns back to you, hand reaching to the back of your dress where the zipper is. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, moving your hands from their position behind you to hold on to the sink. 

Frankie’s finger slides the zipper down, skimming his callouses over your bare shoulders and chuckling as you shiver uncontrollably. 

You ignore him, turning and stepping around him into the shower and getting your hair wet for a moment before moving to the empty space to make room for him. 

He crowds you as he steps in, eyes tracing over your body; assessing, controlled. Unconsciously you cover your chest with your arms, and he doesn’t stop you, only leans his head back into the stream of water.

He turns fully around, giving you a moment of faux privacy to look down to his ass. Your eyes widen as you realize what you are doing, unsure if you should actually be doing more. If you’re a whore, shouldn’t you be more eager? More willing to reach out and touch him. 

He turns back around, your eyes snapping up to his face before trailing back down when you see his eyes are still closed under the stream. He’s half hard, already wider than you were expecting with dark hair trailing up to his belly button. 

Over the tip of his nose water drips down onto his chest and swirls through his hair there. You swallow roughly, glancing up to his face again to see that he is now watching you. “Like what you see?” He asks calmly.

In spite of his voice being so calm, his breathing looks heavy, pupils blown wide as he reaches a soapy finger toward you. He trails from your shoulder, down your front to one breast, circling your nipple lightly. He flicks his eyes up momentarily, gauging your reaction before back down to look at you. 

You inhale, unable to hear yourself over the sound of the water, over the sound of the exhaust fan barely operating above you. The air is thick with the humidity of the shower, his touch burning hot in comparison. 

“Yes.” You admit, feeling yourself flush in embarrassment.

He licks his lip absentmindedly, pushing you back against the wall of the shower with one hand. “Let me feel.”

His fingers reach between your legs with no warning, gliding from clit to center and pushing the pad of his index in briefly. He sighs happily when he feels your own wetness, sticky and warm. “Knew you wanted me.”

You attempt to scoff, feeling this need to push back against him. This isn’t supposed to be happening; you wet before he even touches you, him coaxing you into a position that ultimately, you both want to be in. 

He pulls his hand away, wrapping a hand around your hip and twisting you around, his cock resting heavy on one cheek of your ass. 

He squeezes your hip, trailing his hand up to a breast before tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder. His smile sends a chill down your spine, and you close your eyes to block it out. “You can admit it, baby. You wanted me, yeah?”

“No.” You say quietly, peeking your eyes open again to see his head is tilting to get a better look at your face. A satisfied smirk is on his face, water beating down against his shoulders and splashing on to your lower back. 

You moan lightly at the feeling of his fingers twisting your nipple around, his other hand spreading your cheeks apart. “Doesn’t matter, I paid for my time with you.”

It’s the last thing he says before he pushes himself forward, his cock hugged by your walls for only a brief moment before he pulls back again. He sets a fast pace, not bothering to take his time. 

He grunts in your ear, forgetting his fingers and what he was doing before to focus on the task at hand. You prop yourself up, hands sliding on the wall in front of you as you bite your lip to keep yourself together. You don’t want to let him know that you enjoy this; you can’t-

“Quit that.” He breathes heavily, hand reaching up the front of your neck to pull your lip from your teeth. “Tell me it feels good. I want to hear you.”

You try to control your voice again, but fail miserably as his hand slides back down and squeezes lightly around your neck. You moan, his pace picking up as his lower stomach slaps harshly against your ass. “Fuck-i-it does. It feels good.”

“I know baby.” He groans, leaning back away from you to watch himself disappear into your center. “How are you this tight for me? This pussy feels too fucking good for you to be a whore.”

You know he’s trying to catch you in your lie. You can’t think straight with his cock deep inside you, with his hand around your throat, but you know he’s trying to get you to slip up. 

Thankfully you don’t have to respond, feeling a tingling sensation travel down your neck and to the base of your spin. You reach down, circling your clit with wet fingers and breathe against the wall.

Without a warning to Frankie you come, moaning out his name over and over. You feel yourself squeeze rhythmically around him, his own thrusts pausing to feel it. He moans happily as your orgasm subsides, his pace picking back up at a speed he hadn’t been at before. 

He pulls out, holding you still with one hand at your hip and the other pumping himself to completion. He groans out, his warm spend on your ass and lower back. “Fuck.” He bites, loosening his grip and taking a step back from you and further into the water. 

You hold yourself up and stand, looking at him as he reaches for the soap and lathers it in his hands. He’s watching you, eyes heavy and blown out in lust still as his hands reach out to wash at where he finished on you. 

It’s silent for a moment, warm water now spraying your side and his as he moves you around and washes himself and then you. “Do they let you come?” He asks quietly, voice gravely and deep. 

You blink, thinking to yourself. It’s not a matter of whether or not they let you. “I can’t.” 

He hums, taking the information and filing it away somewhere in his brain. You want to comment further, not wanting his ego to be boosted to high. But you stop yourself, letting him finish what he is doing, letting him turn off the water and help you dry off. 

Nothing more is said between you as you redress yourself, slick your hair back into a hair tie, and grab your purse. You’re out the door before he has a chance to say anything else, already knowing that he’s made his payment to you.

[digitalfootprinthider]

Best friends, right?

Levi Ackerman x reader (not really that romantic but the intent was there lmao)

+ no pronouns for reader

after fighting side by side with Levi for so long you finally develop a small connection

i literally never wrote anything before thisss nfhjsckladc I more than appreciate if you read this and give me your thoughts :) and sorry for spelling errors- English is not my first language

An expedition always came with massive losses. This one was no exception, but personal deaths were always horrifying. I was, along with every squad captain no stranger to those ether. Seeing someone losing their entire team is horrible. The survivors guilt, the what ifs and the spiraling.

But as a captain i know its our responsibility to be strong and caring towards our squad- or what’s remained of them. they all died. I want to convince myself that they died fast and didn’t feel that much pain, or they died for a good course, but right now they all feel like lies. Telling their families is always the hardest thing i have to do.

‘Stop. You can do this hysteria later,’ I mumble to myself as i force my head away from my dead cadet and slap myself to take control of it again. We’re still in the middle of this mission, and a few dead friends should never stop me from completing my task.

we are in the outer space of wall Maria trying to manage the make best of the situation, if that's even possible right now. titans-or a human, the hole doesn't look like a titan has done it- crushed the walls so now the other ones are getting in. The view is disturbing to say the least. Dead all around, the ones there is no way saving are screaming with all that's left in them and who knows how many are still in there- I have to remind myself again to shut these out, i can worry about it later, for now there is only one thing to do-

kill as many of these assholes as possible. I jump from the rooftop into the endless titans, leaving my cadet’s body. I slash a titans nape with one fast blow and move onto my next victim. I see a cadet struggling to deal with an abnormal so i join in. At least i can save them.

‘Where is the rest of your team? You shouldn't be alone.’ I ask her after swiftly handling the situation. In the back of my mind I'm hoping that the answer wouldn’t be death, just in case i put on a poker face.

‘umm thanks for the help’ She said visibly distressed. Judging by that reaction it was her first expedition, poor girl getting her first real experience with this is not gonna do her much good. I try to give her a reassuring look but that's not my forte.

‘I just saw them over there’ she points with her head but its shaking so much its hard to get anything out of it. ’Ill go join them. Again thanks for the help.’ She swings away. I do the same.

after that, my body is on auto mode. Swing, neck, swing legs, wing neck, repeat. There was no strength left in me and i just wanted to stop for a minute but if i would i knew couldn't get up again. So much of that color code Hange made was in the air one can hardly see through it but it’s not stopping anyone. We all know how much is depending on us clearing out the space while the other can flee.

Suddenly i hear a loud noise. I finish with my current victim and go up to the walls to inspect. It was the signal that meant the fight was over. I desperately wanted to find the my te-it will take some time to really realize they are no more. My knees buckle but i keep myself standing. If don't sit down soon my body will collapse.

Next to the wall was a quickly build station we did on all expeditions. I just sat down on a bench in front of one of the main huts next to a cadet with their face in their hands. As i look around i see people eather crying, hugging each other and barley moving a muscle from still being in shock. The adrenalin was wearing off and they just realizing the losses, the same happening to me.

Some liquid is dripping down into my eyes from my head. Its weird because Titan blood should’ve went away by now, and i didn't have any head injuries. That is when it hit me. It was their blood. my squad is dead. Again. Every close friend i have- had, is getting ripped to shreds in the walls while i sit on a little bench. I take a closer look at the man next to me and realize its captain Ackerman. We probably look the same now: bruised, uniforms tainted by blood that's not ours, and ripped in a few places and hints of dirt and colors from the flares.

We literally never talked, but became cadets then captain around the same. For a few years we even shared a squad. We were in the same room most of our carrier. We are both closed off so we never got deeper than talking during meetings. I must’ve been staring at him for a while, because he looks up from his hands into my eyes waiting me to say something. When we lock eyes it hits me. From our year of cadets we were the last ones standing. From our old squad everyone died long ago. His family, that nice girl and boy i cant even remember the name of are dead. So is my old best friend whom we joined to the corps together. Its seems a different world remembering back to it, with one constant.

Ackerman. He was always there. everyone else coudn't live up to the standards of this life but we did. he did, he was always there with me and i cant even recall the names of his dead family. I don't think we even called each other by our first names yet, but it feels like a decade since we first started as cadets.

Seeing my face deep in thought and bloody he stated that i wont be talking anytime soon, so he went back to his hands, but a spoke up in the last second.

‘I guess you’re my best friend now.’ He quickly looked back to me and than around for whom I was speaking to, but when he realized it was him he looked at me weirdly, like I had three heads. ‘By default. Sometimes i forget we even know each other but now your the one i know the most about, and that's not really a compliment.’We both frowned ‘That came out wrong. I didn't mean it to sound bitchy.’

For a few seconds we just stared at each other blankly but i think he realized what i was saying and I saw two thing in his eyes. Pity, not for me but for my cadets. I liked that. And recognition.

‘You’re YN.’ His voice was weak. He probably lost most of his voice giving orders for his team. I don't have to worry about that for a while. ‘If its any consolation i saw two of your squad going down. It was not your fault. You fought well.’ He tilted his head up towards the still dirty sky, resting his head on the tent behind him and took a deep breath. Even looking like a corpse he was still beautiful. As that thought came up my mind my brows knitted- Its an objective observation, not a love confession. Not like i know more than two things about this man anyways.

‘As for the friend part, my pool of best friends candidates just got significantly smaller so you’re in luck.’ He looked into my eyes, but still kept his head upwards. ’If you’re interested you could join in to missions while you short things out. I’ll keep you busy.’ With that he closed his eyes once again. I considered the conversation over. I mimicked his movement and tried to tidy up my mind and maybe even rest a little.

I hope at least it was a fun read ")

[foraging-my-bliss]

Journals:

I find joy in my journals. I have been journaling off and on since 2011. It began as a way to chronicle my lovely dates with my boyfriend (now husband ) when we had just started dating. I’d record every moment I wanted to keep forever in the pages of a little paper blanks journal from the college book store. Over the years it has evolved into more of a meditative mind dump. It’s helped to provide me the space to rant, ramble, and repeat thoughts and feelings without judgment. Sometimes, in the Midst of ranting about a certain problem, I come to either a solution or a personal discovery as I untangle the web of thoughts I have unceremoniously dumped onto the pages. I find so much joy in picking out a new journal each time I begin to close in on the end of my current one. My all tome favorite place to find journals right now is in the Great Wall book store within the china town mall here in Las Vegas. The first journal I ever got from there was as my first Valentine’s gift from my husband back in 2012. After I dragged it out off him where he had found suc an adorable little journal, I started buying most of them from there. There’s all sorts of sweet little designs with illustrations in the pages. I’ve recently been drawn to their plush cover journals because something about them feel cozier for my evening journaling. But to be honest, what really has helped me find more internal joy, genuine happiness, was the recent implementation of the gratitude journal. I am not naturally a grateful or positive person. My journal entries were often a lot of ranting and lamentations of what has been lost or what i do not have. I was often told that gratitude journaling would be a useful tool for me but I just felt like there was nothing to be grateful for. On a day I was going to look for a new journal at china town, I ended up stumbling upon three matching journals for 5$ each at Ross. Now, I love my china town journals but they can be pricey, and these were just what I needed.aesthetically pleasing, spiral bound as a bonus, not something I usually work with, and cheap. I only really needed one, but for that price, I wanted all three of these pretty books. But what did I need 3 for ?? I designated the black one for mind dumps, the mauve colored one for gratitude journaling. And the blue one for another new type of journaling: manifest scripting. Together, these journals became tools that cultivates a more positive, grateful, hopeful, and clearer mind. Now that I had an excuse to use three journals at once, I decided to really put my all into utilizing them and see what the hype was about gratitude and manifest journaling. While brain dumping gave me a place to clear my mind, gratitude journaling filled that same mental space back up with positivity, and manifest journaling, filled it up with hope. Both were things I had not experienced in…I can’t even really remember the last time I felt positive or hopeful. But I started making lists of things I envisioned for myself. Things I wanted to make happen, without realizing I was listing reasons to stay alive another day. I manifested academic success in my journal for my phlebotomy class in the face of my fear of failure. I manifested a job in my field of study that would pay more than I’ve ever made in the past. And I continue to manifest journal for all of the things I want to see come to fruition in my life and The more energy I put into writing it, the more hopeful I feel for them to happen. The more determined I feel to fight any dark suicidal thoughts I have to make sure I see my manifestations become realized. And then of course . Gratitude journaling . I make lists almost every night for anything big or small I am happy about. Either little moments thought the day, like a patient telling me my stick was painless or a word of encouragement from my Mother in law. Or things I didn’t have before that I have now, like a safe home environment. I often repeat items in later lists, like the beatific art in my room or my stereo. Journaling has been so helpful. In it, I find bliss.

[chaisshitposts]

https://www.tumblr.com/chaisshitposts/731358282086793216/how-about-if-i-affrim-ill-wake-up-to-my-dream?source=share

Affirmed I'll wake upto my dream life and it didn't work?

anon— 🧍 honey, sweetie, darlin'— listen to me, when creatin' a new belief, ya need to practice it. and by practice I mean ya need to continuously say/think/affirm that new belief, regardless of everything and anything. it doesn't matter if right now yer 3D does not reflect the life ya want, keep affirming, keep thinking thoughts from the perspective of having your dream life. circumstances never matter when you're creatin' new things.

you have your dream life in your head, and ik we all get tired of people sayin' 'the only true reality is the 4D' or 'dont react to the 3D'. what imma need you to do is continuously think from the perspective of your dream life. think whatever you want that affirms the things you want. be delusional, be consistent, be responsible and watchful of your thoughts.

now, we're all human and we still need to live the lives we have in the 3D but ALWAYS keep thinking from the perspective of your dream life. you need to be stubborn about the things you want.

and no you don't need to believe your affirmations or thoughts, all you need to do is repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, stop your negative thoughts and doubts before they can FINISH, and repeat your affirmations, do not entertain the old story by dwelling on it. correct those old ideas gently but authoritatively as if you were teaching a child.

you have to forgive yourself for the doubts, negatives, and all that other bullshit because you are now relearning something, you are rewiring not only your brain but your way of life. your circumstances do n o t m a t t e r, do not accept what you don't want.

I don't care if you've got negative three dollars in your bank account, look at that shit and say 'Damn! Look at all the money I got, holy SHIT!!!"

I don't care if you used to think you were dumber than a sack of shit and are staring down at a failed exam. Look at it and say 'Woah! I can't believe I aced this??? What the hell-- I didn't even study!"

I don't care if every time you look in the mirror you hate what you see. Look at yourself and say "Have I always been this pretty? Shhhhhhiiiiitttt... Vogue should sign me."

You need to practice hyping yourself up. Gaslight yourself until the lies become your truth, but don't stop living your current reality, just pretend that you're doing the things you want to be done in your dream life. Your subconscious is blind after all, the only evidence and proof it has are your dominant aka repeated thoughts and words.

I don't care if it's hard at first, keep practicing and soon it'll become easier than ya could have ever imagined. And if you can't help but to spiral or fall into a moment of sadness bc of some shit ya saw in the 3D— that's okay. It's not gonna reset your progress unless you let it consume you, if you allow it to fester and grow, you will backtrack. but even then, it's okay to start again, the journey is always ready to accept new travelers.

Cry if you need to, get angry if you need to, wallow in the fetal position if you need to— but while you're letting out your feelings, affirm for the life you want, affirm for the life that you truly deserve because you deserve your dream life no matter what you've been taught whilst growing up in this world. Hope this helped ya out and gave ya motivation.

[polychr0matic]

Pour a little salt. ~ S.B.

Author’s Note: This was just something I wrote because I had a bad day and needed to have something good to come out of it, which I think this is??? Been years since I’ve shared my writing so this may be terrible, sorry. ☹️ It’s also kind of incomplete. Perhaps a series if people respond well? Anyway, happy reading!

TW: Some self-deprecating thoughts and dialogue, Ravenclaw ‘reader’, no use of Y/N, brief mentioning of Wormtail and Snape.

Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror. It was the current mantra that was ceaselessly repeating in my head and coincidentally, the only thing keeping myself from tumbling over the ledge into the abyss below. For now. I haven’t the foggiest idea how I got here or how I came to be like this, but it seemed like there was nothing that was going to change anytime soon. Might as well learn to deal. Right?

I inhale deeply through my nose and slowly blink a couple of times, allowing the surrounding world to come back into focus, a welcome distraction perhaps. Same deep blue drapes and bedding, clothes strewn about, spare bits of parchment and quills littered on bedside tables and even on the floor, Pandora’s crystal collection placed sporadically - even though she will say it’s intentional - on every windowsill and lately, popping up in our socks. It was what I was used to seeing day in and day out, never changing, making a mockery of me as if I didn’t already know. Tiresome. Frustrating. Pointless. Could not have chosen three better words in my humble opinion. A sigh soon escapes and I shake my head vigorously in an attempt to get back on track. So much for a distraction, eh?

With a quick, and stupid, look back over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and I struggle not to react, only managing to take in the ghastly bags under my eyes and the monstrosity, that some might call hair, piled on top of my head. Why did you do that? Nothing good ever comes of it. You never learn. I flinch, reeling back a bit before swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. One would think I would be used to the commentary that just so happened to swirl through my mind as if it owned the place, but no - I’d never be that lucky.

~

I somehow managed to make it to almost all of my lessons that day without incident. Until Potions. The positive affirmations I had given myself to recite quietly clearly weren’t enough since it only took one single moment to unravel everything completely and send me into a deep spiral. Not that I was doing all that great to begin with, mind you, but I liked to think I had a pretty decent handle on things.

I was in my 6th year at Hogwarts and somehow ended up in Advanced Placement Potions with Slughorn at the end of the day, how thrilling, and let’s just say that nothing was going my way. We were working on Scintillation Solution and apart from putting incorrect amounts in, I was also hellishly allergic to the powdered unicorn horn and of course this particular potion used quite a bit of it. Unavoidable contact at best. Nevertheless, I grit my teeth and got to work, hoping that I would have something that would at least get a passing mark. Oh how wrong I was.

The space next to mine was taken up by none other than Snivellus Severus Snape, one of the most gifted in Potions, and from the moment Slughorn began, I could sense the animosity radiating off of him. Was it directed at me? No… It was for James Potter, who had arrived before anyone else to take up Severus’ usual spot next to Lily Evans, a self-satisfying smirk set upon his face. Which means I got the shit end of the stick. Wonderful.

I keep my eyes averted and focused dutifully on my Scintillation Solution, not paying the greasy git a single lick of attention, until my wand slips from my fingers and in a desperate attempt to catch it before it makes its new home in my smoking cauldron, I end up flinging powdered unicorn horn… Everywhere. I begin to cough, rough and grating, as the particles sneak their way into my sinuses, coating my skin and robes, the table; yeah, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was everywhere. And to make matters worse, like the allergic reaction I was having wasn’t enough, I even managed to get some on, you guessed it, Snape. The world must really hate me.

“Are you that incompetent that you can’t even hold onto your wand without making a proper mess? And you’re supposed to be a Ravenclaw,” Snape sneered with a distasteful curl of his upper lip. “You should be resorted back into Hufflepuff for how daft you are. And to think, I could’ve been sitting next to Lily.”

Now, in hindsight, he could’ve said a lot worse. Truly. I just couldn’t stomach it. Not after how I was this morning, head in a tizzy, not knowing which way was up, down, or sideways. It hit a little differently and I felt the familiar prickling sensation behind my eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I bite down on the fleshy inside of my cheek and clench my hands into fists, already feeling my body begin to shake and drop in temperature. I felt cold. Detached. I needed to get the every loving fuck out of here.

“Oh! My dear! Are you alright?” Slughorn. I swallow thickly and keep the tears at bay with all of my might before glancing up at the greying Professor with a tight smile, “Splendid. Although, I wouldn’t mind a trip to the Hospital Wing if that’s alright, Professor.”

“Of course, of course! I will excuse you for the rest of the lesson and come see me after Madam Pomfrey tends to you, I will allow you to redo your Scintillation Solution at a later date.”

I flash another tight smile in thanks as I shove my wand into my robes, grab my bag, and hightail it out of there. I catch the concerned looks from Lily and Sirius on the way, but with a slight shake of my head, I dismiss them both, classroom door slamming shut behind me.

~

“Madam Pomfrey fixed you right up! You look right as rain now!”

“Thanks Pete.” I squeeze his shoulder and offer my usual tight smile, not wanting to offend the poor guy when he meant well enough. “I feel much better as well.” Liar.

James tore his eyes away from the petite redhead in the corner that was currently talking with Marlene McKinnon to spare a glance my way, a small frown taking root on his lips, “Are you sure? Snivellus looked pretty pissed and I can’t help but feel responsible. I mean, I did take the only seat he sits in.”

I roll my eyes and wave him off, not wanting his sympathy nor his guilt. A witch could only bear so much after all. “Don’t let it tie your wand in a knot. I’m rubbish at Potions, so something would’ve happened regardless of who was sitting there.”

The curly haired Marauder opened his mouth to speak again before Remus cuts in, “You aren’t rubbish at Potions. I’ve seen your marks and believe me, there are worse.” Always the gentleman.

“Yeah! Can’t be worse than Wormtail. He didn’t even make it into Advanced Placement Potions, the tosser.” Sirius.

“HEY!”

A chuckle passes through my lips and I flick my line of vision upwards only to be met with storm clouds, seeming to swirl around as they observe silently. I momentarily lose my breath and cough into a fist, looking away but not before catching the knowing glint flash within the grey.

~

Ah, Friday. Last day of lessons and I happened to have bribed Remus with copious amounts of chocolate that I would buy at Honeydukes next Hogsmeade trip for his in-depth notes for Ancient Runes. Seriously, always a gentleman. Despite the bribe, oops.

It was cool outside, wind crisp and causing the fallen leaves from The Whomping Willow to rustle around, the spidery branches whipping around in irritation, and my skin grew cold as a result. I guess the cream colored jumper I chose to wear wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping me warm. Pity. I rub my hands together as I walk along the winding path that led down to Care of Magical Creatures, thankful that I seemed to be the only student bonkers enough to be wandering about with the wind being the way it was. I wasn’t much of a people person and the thought of having to actually hold a conversation of merit made my skin crawl. I shudder with a shake of my head and kick a couple of stones on the path, watching as they skitter off into the grass, thoroughly enjoying my own form of entertainment.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRAAAAACK!

“Oh for the love of MERLIN!”

Sirius? What the hell was he doing out here? And where the hell was he at? My brow furrows as I follow the source of the noise and Sirius’ voice, coming to the edge of The Forbidden Forest. Of course the arse would go in there. I mean, why wouldn’t he? I should know better by now at this point really.

I step past the tree line with a squint of my eyes, even when there was still light in the sky it was darker than ever within, and call out, “Sirius?”

Nothing.

“Sirius, is that you?!”

Nothing.

“SIRIUS!”

“OOF!”

I land on the ground. Hard. Rocks and fallen branches dig into my back as I groan, beginning to wiggle around wildly to get out from under the crushing weight on top of me. My ribs were digging into my lungs and I wheeze, pushing my hands against a solid chest and beginning to shove. “Get off of me!”

“Sorry darling. I didn’t see you there.”

I huff, “Clearly.”

There’s a flash of white and a reverberating chuckle before the weight is lifted, Sirius Black now plopped beside my still flat form, casually sitting cross-legged like he hadn’t just knocked the damn wind out of me seconds before. I sit up and brush off my arms before zeroing in on the sharp Aristocratic features of the eldest Black brother. “What the devil are you doing out here in The Forbidden Forest? Full moon isn’t until next week so spare me the pathetic story of ‘preparing things for Moony’, please.”

Sirius simply stares; eyes twinkling with amusement they looked like molten silver today and the infamous signature smirk playing at his lips, “And to think I was under the impression that everyone bought that story time and time again. Guess I was wrong on that one, eh?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay Severus.”

“What did you just say?”

He holds up his hands then, slender fingers adorned with rings that matched his eyes and the knuckle tattoos that he and James thought were an ingenious idea one night after a bottle of Firewhiskey. “Nothing darling. Nothing.” Our eyes meet once more and I feel a warmth spread from the top of my head and down the length of my spine, goosebumps pebbling up as I shiver. The fuck was that? “Right. Are you going to answer my question or sit and stare some more?”

“I think I could stand to sit and stare for just a bit longer.”

If there were ever an Order of Merlin for the biggest eye roll one singular person could perform, I would’ve won. “Fine, be an arse. I’m leaving.” And with that, I stand and brush some more leaves off, stalking back towards the tree line and the awaiting path that led back up to school.

“Oi! Wait a minute! Let me walk you back!”

I ignore him and keep making a beeline up the path, Hogwarts being my destination and I needed to get there. Quickly. All I wanted was to get back to my dorm so I could get warm. I swear it had gotten ten degrees colder since being in and leaving the forest. I was shivering like mad now and I didn’t see it letting up until I got inside.

“Hey! WAIT!”

I don’t know why I stopped, but I did and with an exasperated sigh escaping my throat, “Bloody hell, Sirius! What do you want?! I’m freezing my tits off and I want to get inside!” I whirl around and cross my arms over my chest, hands buried into my armpits to starve off the chill, and fire in my eyes. I truly loved all of The Marauders, but I was at my wits end with this particular member of the group and he was about to see my wrath if he didn’t tread lightly.

Sirius stopped a few feet in front with raised eyebrows, that same bit of amusement still present, “No need to bite my head off. I told you I would walk you back and I intend to do so. Even if you are particularly cranky today and have been for the last few days might I add.”

“Cranky? I’m not cranky. I already told you that I’m freezing and want to get inside. Not my fault you can’t take a hint.” I bite back, taking a step further back as Sirius mimics by taking a step closer. The man was infuriating, I tell you.

The taller male looks even more amused, probably just to spite me, and takes another step closer, “I’m actually very good at taking hints, so with that point being made, allow me to elaborate further just to show you how right I am…” His tongue flicks out to lick his lips just as he takes another step, but this time I have the mind to step back again. “Why do you keep moving away when you clearly don’t want to?”

My breath catches in my throat and I freeze, eyes widening a fraction before I force a look of indifference, “What are you on about, Sirius?”

“I think you perfectly well know.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Hm.”

That one little syllable grated on my nerves more than a full blown soliloquy would’ve and I clench my jaw, turning on my heel and practically sprinting up the rest of the pathway until a hand wraps around the upper part of my arm, putting all movement to a halt.

Bloody HELL.

“Wha-?!”

“I said I was walking you back, so no snarky comebacks. Just walk.”

Well, alright then.

[crypticspacecat]

Prisoner Chapter III (Yan!Dr.KujoxBlack!Femreader)

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter IV

First things first, I want to apologize for the long wait. Besides working on my tarot business, I wasn't anticipating my autoimmune disorder choosing violence but got some medicine to calm it down.

This chapter is a bit slow but when chapter 4 comes out, you'll understand why. Enjoy!

(I'm ngl, I wasn't too pleased with this chapter but I'll try to write more often to freshen up my skills)

6:15 am

You’re awakened by the sound of an opening door and various machines. You slowly open your eyes to multicolored lights almost blinding you.

“Hi Ms. (L/N), just taking your vitals.” The nurse whispered. Must be one of the floor nurses, she didn’t sound like Lynn. You feel the coldness of the blood pressure cuff and the rubber texture of the heart monitor on your index finger. The dream keeps you distracted from the tightness of the cuff.

‘It felt so real, but it couldn't possibly be real.' You think to yourself. Your line of thinking is interrupted by the sound of Velcro. Much to your surprise, the nurse was already done. You almost question how long you were lost in thought. The nurse leaves quietly, leaving you alone. 

“It was just a dream…” You repeated to yourself in fearful whispers. The darkness envelopes your room as the sun has yet to rise.

“My angel…”

You shiver in excruciating discomfort, still feeling the strange man’s hands all over you. You slowly close your eyes, trying to imagine being near the ocean, being relaxed by the sound of the waves. With your imagination working in your favor, you fall asleep within minutes.

“(Y/N), I have your breakfast." A voice whispers to you. You open your heavy eyes to see nurse Lynn with a tray full of food. Bacon, eggs, a fruit cup, and a small cup of orange juice. The sun shines gently on your face, not blinding your sensitive eyes.

“Since you’re a newly admitted patient, you have to stay in your room for the first 24 hours. I also called your friend and she should be dropping off your clothes and hygiene items sometime today. It may take some time to receive them as we do have to do a security check.” She explains as she hands you the tray.

“Thank you, Ms. Lynn.”

“You’re very welcome! There are a couple of rooms for patients to gather for group and recreational activities. On the third floor, there is always going to be a staff member present at all times in the group rooms for security reasons. You should be seeing a therapist one-on-one today and Dr. Kujo later on.” She further explains before being summoned by another staff member. You start eating your eggs, noting how decent it was for hospital food.

You finished your meal, still feeling exhausted from yesterday. You hope to visit those rooms nurse Lynn mentioned, but for now, you just want to rest your eyes.

“Ms. (L/N)." You hear someone say, jolting you out of your rest. You open your eyes to see an older man with thick-rimmed glasses. He pulls out his pen from his shirt pocket as you steadily rise from your bed to face him.

“I’m Dr. Ngyuen. I’m one of the therapists here. I wanted to ask you a few questions for Dr. Kujo.” Dr. Ngyuen explains, pulling a chair from the hallway. You nod in understanding, not really looking forward to answering these mundane questions.

“Are you currently suicidal or have any thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”

“No.”

"Rate your mood on a scale of 1 to 10."

“5”

“Why a 5?”

“Because I don’t want to be here.”

“I understand that, but this is for your own safety.” He retorts, peering into your expressionless face. You internally sigh, wanting to get this over with.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because I started self-harming again.”

“Exactly. A lot of people don’t really think about how self-harm can lead you down a dangerous spiral. I know this is inconvenient for you as you have school and work, but this is for your safety. Especially considering your medical history.” He explains. You frown in frustration, trying to accept the situation for what it is.

“So what will my treatment consist of?” You ask, aching for this therapist to just leave already.

“That will be between you and Dr. Kujo. Right now, I’m just asking basic questions since you just got here.” He answers. You nod in understanding, wondering what the Doctor has planned for you.

The therapist soon leaves, allowing you to lie down and clear your mind. You stare at the ceiling, pretending you’re out in nature. The soft grass serves as your cushion as you gaze at the beautiful blue sky. There isn't a cloud in sight, and the gentle winds kiss your cheeks. The blue jays' melodies put your mind at ease, allowing you to surrender wholly to relaxation. You feel your eyes get heavy, but you don’t fight it. Slowly, you’re eased into slumber, drained of all the anxiety from before. You’re suddenly awakened by a nurse, catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry for waking you (Y/N), but you have to get your blood drawn. We have to check for any vitamin deficiencies and also your hormone levels and cholesterol levels." She says as you slowly rise from your bed. You follow the nurse out of your room to one of the locked rooms in the common area of the floor.

You walk into a white, sterile room. The other nurse is already present, prepping the needles and further cleaning the work area. You sit on the closest chair to the woman’s desk, internally dreading being stuck multiple times with a large ass needle.

[lilbittymonster]

Extinguishing the Last Light

Word Count: 4122

Rating: Teen

Read on AO3

~

Estinien came to with a face full of sunlight, painfully bright even filtered through the canopy of the forest above. Immediately pulling himself up into a defensive crouch, lance drawn, he cast about his surroundings. Purple was all he could see for films around him. Purple leaves, purple shrubs, purples grasses, purple flowers. This had to be some sort of illusory magicks. Or perhaps a dream. He had fallen unconscious, that much he remembered, same as Kitali had fallen. Same as all the rest of the Scions, it would seem.

A rush of noise to the south caught his attention and he readied to leap forward. A cloaked figure was running towards him through the underbrush, seemingly unarmed. Physically, at least. Mages were less predictable. 

They stopped, panting, and pulled back their hood. A miqo’te with red hair and equally red eyes looked back at him, his expression both pleading and terrified.

“Please,” he began with his hands up apologetically, “I am sorry for the manner of your arrival here. My name is G’raha Tia, and I desperately need your help.” 

“Where am I, G’raha Tia?” Estinien asked gruffly. His lance had not lowered an ilm. 

“You are on the First. A reflection of the Source, the star from which you hail. The details do not matter right now, but if you do not help us both of our worlds are doomed to end.”

Estinien searched his features for any trace of a lie. He found none, only naked desperation. He lowered his lance to rest the butt on the ground, and G’raha gratefully lowered his arms in response.

“What is it you require of me?”

“I require you that you slay the being known as the Lightwarden. It is what is holding this world in eternal daylight and keeping the aetheric balance in a dangerous stasis of Light.”

Estinien snorted. “Killing yet more foul beasts…” he muttered, mostly to himself. He raised his voice to address the man before him. “This seems like a job for the Warrior of Light, does it not? ‘Twas you who called her here in the first place, I imagine.”

G’raha Tia’s expression grew somehow even more pained. “The Warrior of Light…..the Warrior of Light has failed,” he said, his voice breaking. “As have the Scions who accompanied her.”

His words sent a shiver of dread down his spine. “All of them?”

“All of them,” G’raha repeated.

Estinien closed his eyes. All of the Scions who were brought here….that meant-

“Please,” G’raha pleaded again, softer but no less insistently. “Will you lend us your aid?”

Estinien opened his eyes again, blinking back the tears of grief already beginning to well.

“If I help you, you’ll send me back?” As if the answer mattered. He’d already resolved his vengeance.

“You have my word.”

-

The grey haired Hyur led him through an elegantly wrought gate and down the spiralling staircase, speaking in a hushed tone all the while. G’raha Tia had pointed Estinien in the direction of the library as the best starting place in his hunt, with the senior librarian Moren being the one to speak with. Not sure why he’d need to go to a library, he only needed to know where the damned thing was, but it couldn’t hurt having a bit of knowledge beforehand.

“We don’t know much about the current Lightwarden’s abilities, but we’ve compiled a list of what observed combat capabilities she had prior to-”

“”She’?” Estinien interrupted. “How do you know it’s a she?”

Moren paused, silent as they continued to walk alongside the looming bookshelves. Estinien inwardly cursed himself for his lack of tact.

“Every Lightwarden there ever was, every single sin eater our fighters put their blades against, was once a person,” Moren said. “A person with thoughts and feelings and bonds and friends and hopes. And this particular Lightwarden used to be someone who I…..who I cared a great deal for.”

The weight of his words hit Estinien like so many stones to the gut, and the description matched a situation that he was all too familiar with. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Estinien said quietly.

“Thank you,” Moren said with a thin smile. He brought them both to a stop behind a small bookshelf with glass doors. Producing a tiny key from a pocket, he unlocked the top tier and withdrew a large leather folio. Inside were all manner of papers, stacked with some semblance of order. “This is an aggregate of any and all official reports, witness accounts, testimonies of colleagues…..I hope that you may find something of use here.” His hands trembled where they rested on the worn cover, as if reluctant to let go. “Come, there is better reading light upstairs.”

They walked back through the silent halls below, Moren clutching the leatherbound papers to his chest like a shield. He seemed lost in thought, and Estinien was plenty content to leave him to it. But as they crested another level in the spiral, Moren broke the silence.

“What do you know of aethercraft, Ser Estinien?”

“Aethercraft?” Estinien blinked. “Do you speak of magic or simply manipulating one’s own aether? I can teleport just fine.”

Moren shook his head. “No, I mean the finer intricacies of aetheric balances of the six elements. Do you have any familiarity with them?”

“Can’t say I do, no.”

“Ah.” Moren fell silent once more, a frown pulling at his brow.

“Why do you ask?”

“Before, back when she-back when we were discussing other Lightwardens and the…..the peculiarity of her aether, she…..” He trailed off absently as he fumbled with the gate door once more.

Moren crossed the floor to one of the softly lit reading tables, tucked away behind stacks of books. 

“Before,” he continued, “we had begun to theorise about the effects of Light aether, and whether or not the sin eater process could be reversed. We had not come to anything conclusive when she-when-” He broke off roughly, clutching the folio to his chest once more. “If there is any chance at all to reverse this process I will take it. Please. If you can spare her…”

Estinien removed his gauntlets and set them aside before gently taking the folio from him. “You have my word.”

Moren nodded, finally releasing his grip and turning to head back towards the stairs.

-

The unceasing light was even brighter reflecting off of the ocean as Estinien walked along the beach. G’raha Tia told him that Kholusia was the place he needed to go next, and seek out the man named Chai Nuzz. The air was heavy around him. Sound carried unnaturally loudly, the crunch of the sand beneath his boots being near the only thing he could hear. Not even a breeze carried off the water. ‘Twas as if the whole world were holding its breath, waiting. Even the creatures ignored him, shambling to and fro without care, without drive. 

The large opulent city at the water’s edge seemed to be his destination. The ground beneath his feet shifted from sand to scree as he made his way. A collection of shanties came into view as he rounded the hill, and he could see people standing about. As he approached, though, none of them even so much as twitched. The only signs of anyone still alive were the occasional blink and the movements of breath.

“Excuse me,” he asked a viera sitting hunched on a pile of crates. “Do you know where I can find a man named Chai Nuzz?”

The woman blinked sleepily, and looked at him as though waking from a dream. “Chai Nuzz…..” she repeated softly to herself, then raised a languid arm to point towards the city. “He’s there.”

Could’ve spared myself the effort, he thought to himself. He nodded and kept following the main road, trying to ignore the stillness of the townsfolk he passed. The foot of the massive spire was much the same, covered in shacks with loose crowds sitting about, staring off into the distance. The guards stationed at the gate may as well been statues for all he knew. Or cared. So long as they didn’t hinder him. 

The Au Ra stationed at the gate slowly swivelled their head to look at Estinien as he approached. “State your business,” they drawled.

“I’m here to speak to Chai Nuzz.”

The Au Ra nodded. “Top floor,” was all they said before returning to their rigid stance. 

The foyer of the castle was decorated in what would have been lush carpets and tapestries, had they not fallen to rot from neglect. The gold decorations had begun to tarnish, and fissures in the walls sported tiny bits of moss. The planter boxes were overflowing with dead and drooping flowers, though some blossoms still held stubbornly onto life. 

Right. Top floor. Estinien ducked into the alcove with the ascending staircase, taking the spiraling steps leap by leap until he reached the apex. At his approach, the guard directly across the doorway made a lazy grab for his spear.

“Chai Nuzz,” Estinien said without preamble.

The guard relaxed his grip and pointed into the open plaza to the right. “Inside. At the bar.”

Estinien grunted his thanks and stepped into the dimly lit plaza, a disabled aetheryte in the center covered in long-dead roses taking up most of his vision. A soft murmur of voices rose up at his approach, but beyond that there was almost no reaction. Almost. 

A miqo’te man in a worn purple suit stood from his chair, walking slowly towards him. These people within the city walls seemed much more animated than those left outside, though that wasn’t saying much. Behind him, Estinien could see the crowd of onlookers watching through half-lidded eyes.

“State your business, stranger,” the miqo’te said.

“I’m here to speak with Chai Nuzz on behalf of the Exarch,” Estinien said. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“You’re speaking to him,” Chai Nuzz said. “On behalf of the Exarch, is it? I’m going to guess it’s about the Lightwarden.”

“Aye. I was told that you were the one to speak to about getting up the mountain.”

Chai Nuzz shook his head. “Nobody is getting up that mountain anymore. I tore the Ladder down years ago. I’m sorry, but you can tell the Exarch that I won’t be sending anyone else to their deaths.”

“I was under the impression that your world is dying,” Estinien said. “Are you really so content to just languish here, waiting for your end to come?”

“Young man, that is precisely what this city was built for. We had already accepted our fate long before the Scions arrived. And if the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, helmed by the Warrior of Darkness herself, could not defeat the final Light then what chance do you have, a single soldier?” Chai Nuzz shook his head again. “If you’re so eager to go after it then you’ll have to find your own way up. I won’t help you.” And with that he turned and slowly walked back to his seat.

Estinien huffed and turned on his heel. Fine. If he had to make his way, he would. He’s been dealt worse hands.

-

He stood at the foot of the contraption called the Ladder, and couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Is this truly all that stood between him and his quarry? A paltry metal ladder? He pushed off the cobblestones with barely a flex of muscle, and landed squarely on the scree of the cliffside above. The plains were just as bleak as down below, just as still. Just as silent. The susurrus of dead grass beneath his boots was entirely too loud in his own ears. His hand drifted back towards his lance in a nervous tic, itching for something to happen to break the stillness.

And break it did.

“She did that too,” said a small voice to his left. 

Whirling with a snarl, Estinien aimed his lance at the tiny body sitting against a rock off the side of the road. Whatever was covering its face gave it the appearance of flat yellow eyes, and they stared blankly in his direction.

“Who did what?”

“The Warrior,” the tiny figure said again, noticeably slower than the residents of Eulmore down below. “She could jump high enough to reach the heavens. Pulled down Night itself, almost.” 

Kitali. They were talking about Kitali, he realised. Another wave of grief and regret and anger surged up like bile at the back of his throat, and he swallowed it down. 

The figure tilted its head at him appraisingly. “You’re here to avenge her aren’t you?”

Estinien gave a curt nod. “Aye.”

A thin, bitter laugh followed. “Good luck, sinner. You’ll need it.”

Wholly unnerved by the entire interaction, Estinien gave a brief nod and kept walking. Renewed anger gave weight to his steps again, and he marched resolutely towards the foot of the mountain. The golden spires were visible from all the way down here, the stone bridges mere leaps between him and his target. 

Besides the quiet stillness of the air at this altitude, besides the unwavering light that seemed near tangible, his pulse pounded in his ears, every bead of sweat noticeable oh his skin. The malaise that permeated the shore below had tripled, and moving though it felt like trying to walk through wool. By the time he reached the white marbled gates, the tip of his spear was nearly dragging along the stones. 

The layers of stairs and trellises that stretched out before him must have, at one point, been beautiful. But now, there were large chunks of stone blasted from the walls and the gilding faded with weathering. As he rounded the bend of the path, he thought he saw movement between the pillars. The first movement he’s seen since beginning his ascent up the cliff face. Forcing his lance arm to lift Nidhogg, he sprung across the empty space to duck behind a pillar. He held his breath in anticipation of an attack. None came. Taking another steadying breath and readying his lance, he leaped out into the final courtyard, and froze. 

At the opposite end of the expanse of patterned gold, a creature easily three times his size drifted lazily above the rubble. A long, sinuous tail dragged lightly along through the dust. Estinien could see multiple crisscrossing lines all over the ruined amphitheater much in the same fashion. Its skin was as white as the stone around him, shot through with veins of gold in a mockery of beauty. A large pair of feathered wings beat soundlessly as it moved. And covering most of the creature’s form was a tattered white coat in a sickeningly familiar silhouette.

He must’ve made some noise, or other indication of his presence, because its head whipped around to face him, and he found he couldn’t breathe. Three pairs of horns, all of them familiar in their shapes, framed a face that looked like it was carved from marble. It could have been marble, for all he knew, if it weren’t for the glowing opalescent eyes that pierced his very being and pinned him where he stood. And the expression, the face he would know anywhere, in any universe, was frozen in mild surprise.

“Estinien,” she breathed, the ripples of her voice filling the otherwise deadened air.

He tried to swallow around a suddenly parched throat. He had hoped against hope that the poor soul who had been turned into the beast he hunted simply shared in Kitali’s abilities, but that shred of hope was dashed against the white marble. There was no denying it now; his friend had become the enemy.

“Kit…” he whispered. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Strange, that we should find ourselves here again.”

“Strange indeed,” she echoed. Her words seemed to reverberate inside his skull. She tilted her head at him, considering. Calculating. “They sent you to kill me.”

Estinien’s mouth went dry. “Aye, they did.”

Kitali’s form immediately pivoted with predatory grace to face him fully, and she began drifting towards him across the open platform. Her opalescent eyes had deepened to a familiar red glow and the talons on her hands elongated to ivory spears. Estinien was rooted to the spot. His heart was pounding under his armor as though it were trying to escape his chest altogether as he watched, frozen, as Kitali slowly drew nearer. 

“And are you going to?” she asked. Her voice had not changed tone but it was rippling with intensity. An all-too-familiar steel beneath silk. 

“No.” His voice rasped against his throat as he gasped out the single syllable. “No, I won’t.” The sound of Nidhogg clattering to the stones was thunderous in the silence. “You didn’t give up on me, and I won’t give up on you, either.”

Kitali’s eyes returned to the pale golden glow and her posture relaxed, and she continued her approach until she was but a yalm before him. With the fluidity of a dropped ribbon she knelt on the marble. Her wings settled with a soft brush though the dust, stirring up small clouds before they drifted to stillness once more.

“The librarian said you’d talked of finding a cure for this…..this aether sickness,” Estinien continued. 

Kitali’s head tilted. “Librarian?”

“Moren.”

She closed her eyes.

 “Moren,” she sighed, the sound rustling through the broken pillars like wind through so many dead trees. The name sounded uncomfortably close to mourn on her tongue. “Moren was sweet.” Her eyes opened once more, and she reached out for him. “You’re sweet, too.”

Her touch seared against his bare cheek and yet Estinien could not find the motive to pull away. Perhaps the librarian was right, there was still a chance she could be saved from this affliction, she’s still talking to him, she’s still Kitali…

“What happened to the other Scions?” he asked. The question burned on his lips but he had to know. He had to know what had happened to-what had happened to them all.

“They joined me,” was all she said, hand still caressing his cheek. “To stay with me until the end.”

“I-what does that mean, Kitali?”

She tilted her head, her expression morphing into one of mild pity. “This world is dying, Estinien. It’s dying a slow, hard death. Better to spare them the pain, keep them safe with me.”

This did nothing to ease the knot of grief in his heart. 

“You could stay, too,” she offered quietly. Hopefully.

Estinien closed his eyes. “The Exarch promised that if…..if I defeated you he’d send me back,” he said weakly, already hearing the decision in his voice.

“The Exarch lied,” Kitali spat, voice suddenly sharp. “There is no way back.” She pulled her hand away, and the loss of the sensation further weakened his resolve. 

Estinien rolled the weight of her words, the words of his friend, against those of the strange man who had pulled him from his home. What did he have to leave behind, he mused. What was there left to return to?

“Stay,” Kitali repeated softly. “Please.”

He could feel himself nodding even before she finished speaking. Opening his eyes, he met her golden ones. So devoid of life, and yet so welcoming.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Her answering smile was blindingly radiant.

-

The light beat harshly against the stones as he appeared, same as it always did. The winding path up to the floating sanctum looked about the same, save the figure standing atop one of the outcroppings. He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. Nothing lived here. Not anymore. Not unless…..

What are you playing at, Exarch?

As he grew nearer, the figure disappeared, reappearing before him in a cloud of white shadow. It was an elf, or elezen, or whatever they were called these days. Long white hair, white skin to match, dressed in oddly pointed white armor trimmed in gold. The lance in its hand, however, glowed a deep red, same as the eyes. The only spots of colour in this forsaken wasteland of a world.

“Why are you here?” the man growled. He supposed it was supposed to be intimidating.

“None of your business,” Emet-Selch drawled as he continued up the path.

He found the rather long and rather sharp business end of the lance at his throat, and looked over at the man in indignation.

“Have you come to harm her?”

Emet-Selch moved the lance away from his throat with the flick of a finger. “Put that thing away before you hurt someone, boy. I’m just visiting, if you must know.”

The Cardinal said nothing, but withdrew his weapon before vanishing in the same puff of smoke. Off to warn his mistress, like a good little  guard dog, he supposed. Despite being able to simply will himself to the front gates, Emet-Selch decided to keep meandering up the long and winding pathway. Give the impression of courtesy. 

Eventually the familiar stone statues came into view, some more damaged than the last time he visited. The likely result of the last band of mercenaries the Exarch had tried to throw at the Warden despite knowing their failure was all but assured. He picked up an errant blade, dropped in battle, and turned it over casually in his hand. The craftsmanship was nothing remarkable but it had been well made. Served its purpose to the very end. As good a death for a blade as any. With a clatter of steel upon stone it was cast aside once more. 

With hands clasped behind his back, he strode through the shining white halls, noting the accumulated dust along the pathways and increase of decay in the gardens below. His footsteps on the stairs echoed solemnly in the empty air. Once again, he found his memories drifting back to that final fight. Once again, he found himself wondering what might have happened. What might have been, had she succeeded. With a frustrated shake of his head, he emerged at the top. No use in what-ifs, now.

The hovering shape of what used to be the Warrior of Darkness (or was she the Warrior of Light still? Funny how these things work out, isn’t it.) turned slowly to look down at him. Seems the guard dog did his job after all. Unhurried, Emet-Selch made his way up the final steps to the dias. Her domain and her tomb. 

“And to what do I owe this visit, Hades?” she said in that soft cold voice of hers. 

“Pleasant as always,” he returned, still unbothered. “I was in the area, thought I’d drop by. I hate to be a bad neighbour.”

“Is that so.”

“It is.” He ran his gloved hand along a faded decal in the stone. “I see you have a new pet,” he remarked.

“He’s mine,” she snarled instantly, eyes going red.

“Relax, I have no interest in taking your plaything away from you. I’m simply interested in where he came from.”

She stared silently at him as he walked around the perimeter of the amphitheater. The only change in her form was the occasional beat of her wings. At her continued silence, Emet-Selch rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“What, now you won’t even answer my questions? Has it truly been so long that you’ve forgotten what a conversation is?”

“Why are you here, Hades?” she asked again, significantly more short.

“I told you-”

“You’re still waiting for her, aren’t you?” the Warden cut him off smoothly. “At the end of the world, you’re still holding out hope.” If he hadn’t known how to look for it, he would’ve missed the gloating beneath. 

He set his jaw. “She’s as stubborn as you are. I have every reason to believe in her return.”

“You’re scared to be alone,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Am not.”

“You’re holding onto scraps of a ghost. Your friend is gone, Hades. She’s not coming back. None of them are coming back.”

Hades scowled, grinding his teeth.

“There's no going back for any of us, now.”

“You don’t know that. I can be patient. I have not waited this long for nothing, all our work cannot be for nothing,” he hissed. “When you are whole, you will understand.”

“You’ve failed once already.”

He tried to ignore the voice in his head saying she was right. He tried to ignore the fact it was his own. For all her assertions that she wasn’t Timoria, she certainly got under his skin the same way. 

“I tire of this,” he said dismissively, turning to leave. “Enjoy your solitude.”

Her words rang in his ears all the way back to Amaurot.

[an-odd-idea]

On this episode of “I Can Fix Him” : music and a little bit of choreography thoughts for Ilia Malinin

I dunno, he’s just fascinating to me, I’m like annoyed about him sometimes but also very fond of him, and I would like him to earn those PCS

I’m not a choreographer, and I don’t skate, but I watch enough figure skating to enjoy making up imaginary choreography in my head, so this is what I’m doing. Just vibes, basically, so don’t take it very seriously lol

If he wants to continue his streak of skating to music from shows that he’s only technically old enough to watch (well, he’s older now though) I think he should skate to music from House of the Dragon, if he’s seen it. If he hasn’t, then no, but let’s go with it for now

The music is his vibe, but it’s a little bit bigger than what he’s used in the past, to push him a bit but nothing too wildly different. He doesn’t need to do Swan Lake or anything (in fact, Ilia, please do not)

Overall, I’d like to see less crazy arm choreo than the Succession program, more defined, decisive movements, especially in the opening of the program, before and between the first couple of jumps. Sort of like, do you remember Junhwan Cha’s 21/22 short program where he’d do some moves, then stop (not actually come to a stop, but be traveling quickly but not moving his body for a moment)? Kind of that vibe- goes with the music and keeps it interesting without lots of arms all over the place

(Also maybe that would sort of force him to work a lot on his skating skills, which would be nice. Sometimes really good crossovers and nice changes of direction to cool music really are nicer to watch than all the arm-waving someone can muster)

Now here’s where we get crazy, though- make that boy do a spiral. Not a 0.5-second arabesque- a real, honest-to-God spiral and HOLD it. He has long legs, it would look really impressive if he did it well. It can be a Kerrigan spiral if it must, but he HAS to straighten his knee. Maybe Kerrigan spiral actually is best because he has more to do and only really one arm to contend with so he doesn’t feel so awkward holding one position for a while. I’m thinking maybe free arm in front of him and he sort of grabs something in the air, that’s skating choreography basics lol

(This is my thought process: I was listening to “Reign of the Targaryens” and that moment at 0:28 just sounds like the start of a spiral. I would do a spiral there, and I can’t even do a spiral. Also the people love spirals, and it’s extra rare and exciting when a man does a spiral, so he could get some good will from a lot of skating fans who are currently kinda “meh” about him except for the quad Axel)

Thing is, I doubt Ilia would want to do a spiral, and if he doesn’t want to, it will probably not be a very good spiral, so backup plan is a spread eagle, but he needs to HOLD that, too. Whatever it is, it has to be a sustained gliding type move and he has to hold it for a good long time, this is non-negotiable

Moving on from spiral fantasies, thing is, I haven’t seen the show myself, so I’m not sure which pieces of music you’d need to include to focus on a particular aspect of the story or a particular character, so I’m just throwing sort of general stuff at the wall

If- IF- it makes narrative sense, “Rhaenyra’s Welcome” sounds like decent music to start on. It’s interesting, but it still starts out slow, so there’s room to build, and he doesn’t have to use up a ton of energy trying to match it. It’s dramatic and slow-building, so he can take his time setting up his jumps and the music will help sell it anyway because it’s suspenseful but there’s still quite a lot going on underneath. Also these phrases with the long strings and then moments with just drums and something that sounds like maybe a hammer dulcimer in between are just so good for that kind of thing. Like picture, and we can cut music or have something repeat or whatever so he has enough to time to get ready for it but not too much time because he only has four minutes to do everything, quad Axel at 0:20 in the original music, right on the end of that phrase, everybody loses their mind, you know the drill, but the music keeps going slowly but relentlessly on, oh boy! what’s going to happen next?

We’d really need to do some music cutting and pasting magic to get him into maybe quad Lutz at what’s originally 0:29 because if you just play the song that’s not enough time, especially between the hardest jumps anyone’s ever done, so let’s pretend we have the Music Cut Fairy on our side because it’s a perfect moment, and the contrast will be good because the end of this phrase is up while the last one was down, and it has a sharper feel with the drum (Lutz is the sharpest jump, it’s fitting)

Or if that isn’t feasible or if we just like it better, 0:35 is also a really good spot, and the drum right before would be really cool

And so on and so forth. The point is, this kind of music will make things seem really big and cool and kind of gives the skater a little boost in the performance aspect (by sort of tricking your brain into thinking things are cooler than they are, but hey, all program music does that in some way or another- might as well choose music that does it in the way most advantageous to you)

Those are my thoughts, I could figure out some more, but it’s all just vibes and a few sort of snapshot moments anyway, so I’ll leave it there

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 36/?

May I? - 36/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Faith tried to keep herself focused on her duties.

She left Sickbay still fuming over Q’s meddling. They were already on red alert heading into the rendezvous and now they had to deal with whatever he did to Data. If the being could die, Faith absolutely would kill him. Before she entered Engineering, she took a deep breath and tried to keep her head straight. It helped, but only slightly.

It took considerable brainpower to remind herself that there was nothing that she could do about it right then and there. Dwelling and fuming weren’t going to change anything.

Those were the words she repeated to herself, even if deep down they felt hollow.

They were still working with a skeletal crew, at least for another few hours. When she had left, they had been well on their way to having the majority of the repairs complete.

“Report,” she ordered as soon as she walked in.

Barclay stood at the center console and immediately gave her his attention. “All routine maintenance has been completed,” he said. “The shield is no longer delayed and we are showing no signs of complications after our brief shutdown.”

“Great, let’s keep it that way. What about Engineering One?”

“It has been cleaned and the necessary replacements have been dispatched.”

“How far along is the current team?”

“It shouldn’t take them more than a few more hours.”

Which would put them ahead of when she told Picard they would finish. Excellent.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She made a move to leave when Barclay started stuttering, like he usually does when there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t get it out fast enough. She turned back to him with her eyebrow raised. “Something else?”

Barclay fiddled with the PADD in his hands for a second and she waited, somewhat impatiently, for him to find his voice. “I found something and seemed a bit…unusual.”

“What was it?”

He looked as though he wasn’t sure if he should speak. The longer his silence went on, the less patient Faith became. But she knew the importance of waiting when it came to Barclay. Eventually, he took a step closer so that only she could hear what he had to say.

“I found something wrong with the shield generator,” he said. “After our shutdown, I was rechecking systems to make sure everything was still running smoothly and the shield generator had been recalibrated.”

“Recalibrated? How? Why?”

“It was subtle, something that wouldn’t have caught our attention if I hadn’t been looking for it.”

“Could it have been a diagnostic issue? Somehow overlooked by the program.”

“Possible but-but doubtful. It was something that would have had to have been manually done.”

Faith processed what he said and it made her stomach roll. If what Barclay found was correct, then that meant someone on board was actively trying to sabotage them. Which also meant that the mole was still very much operational. Why hadn’t they acted until now? Or had they been acting all along and still hadn’t been caught? What was the purpose?

Her thoughts were beginning to spiral and Faith had to bring herself back to the moment. Barclay was looking at her, waiting for a response or course of action. Taking a deep breath, Faith made sure they weren’t being overheard before she spoke again.

“Everything you found, Reg, I want you to compile in a report and forward to the captain, Data, Commander Riker, and Lieutenant Worf. They are conducting interviews today and they need this information.”

“I-I already have the report. I’ll send it right away.”

“Good.” Faith looked around, taking in every person she could see. With Barclay’s findings, it meant anyone around them could be the traitor and Faith found herself studying the others with mixed feelings.

On the one hand, she fought and worked alongside every one of them. She didn’t want to believe that they would betray Data, betray her, or the Enterprise. And for what reason? Why would they put their own lives in danger by sabotaging the ship?

Turning back to Barclay, Faith spoke in a low voice, as he had. “Reg, right now we need to work under the assumption that the person who did this is here with us now or is on their way to speak to the officers. I want you to run your own diagnostics on each of our systems to look for any more anomalies. Be subtle and stealthy. Don’t tell anyone what you are doing. I need you to be as discreet as possible.”

Barclay nodded, looking a little green at the prospect. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I have another problem that needs to be looked into. Let me know if you find anything else.”

With his orders, Barclay got back to work, and Faith went into her office. Part of her knew she should join in his search but her desire to help Data superseded everything else. Whatever they faced, whatever they were heading towards, she knew Data needed to be at his best. At the moment, He was vulnerable and that scared her. She never once questioned Data’s capabilities and while she had worried about him, that worry could be tempered by the knowledge that he had his strength to protect himself.

He didn’t have that now. Not to mention his new emotions most likely had him confused and overwhelmed.

Faith had to do everything in her power to get him back to his normal self. Once at her desk, Faith loaded Data’s schematics. Beverly had already uploaded the scans and Faith took her time going through everything at least twice. There was hope that she would find something they missed, spot something that could solve the problem. But she should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Q wouldn’t put the answer right in front of them.

There were no changes other than the presence of hormones. Which, of course, didn’t seem right, since there was obviously something blocking the areas Data no longer had access to. Also, what was producing the hormones?

Faith leaned back in her seat, letting her mind run with all the possibilities. The tricorder could be wrong. It could be missing something that would be visible to the naked eye. It could be physical rather than electrical. But the idea of opening Data up to check didn’t appeal to Faith. Especially when she wasn’t sure if he could feel pain now. He said he felt her touch; she had to assume that meant he could also be hurt. And there was no way she was going to be the one to test that theory.

Which meant, if he could be hurt, there was yet another thing Faith now had to worry about. She had not realized how much of a comfort Data’s android capabilities had provided over their months together.

What if Q never changed him back? What if Data got hurt in the process?

Faith was still angry at Q. What she wouldn’t give to slap him again. Sure, Q could have done something horrible to her, but damn if it hadn’t felt good when her palm stung. The surprise on his face was great too. But that brief satisfaction was dwarfed by Faith’s concern.

It was such a cruel thing to do, to let Data feel these things, only to inevitably rip them away. What was Q playing at? What was his endgame? What point was he trying to prove? And why did he want to prove it, knowing they were going into a potential trap?

She leaned back in her seat, thinking of the way Data looked earlier, the worry and fear she never thought she would see reflected back at her. At least not to that degree. Of course, there was another way he looked at her.

That train of thought made her think of how he stared at her in her robe, the way he had reached out to undo the sash and peek at the flesh beneath. That hungry gaze, how he studied her naked body and needed to touch her. He had been more than enamored. He had been downright lustful and it had overtaken all his senses.

Flattering for sure, but troublesome. A voice in Faith’s head, the small one that had been quiet for a time, piped up. Was the first thing he deeply felt toward her lust or love?

Faith knew he loved her and had no reason to question otherwise, especially something he had no control over. If anything, his reaction only solidified his feelings for her, enhanced them. The moment his emotions were unleashed, they had turned to her. Shouldn’t she be thrilled he was experiencing things like a human would? Enhancing what was already there.

It was what he had always wanted. Then again, he had been nervous when in Sickbay, which meant he was concerned. And that was what scared her. Data being concerned terrified Faith down to her very core.

“There has to be something,” she muttered to herself, going through the files again. “There has to be a way to fix this.”

But even a third and fourth pass showed nothing.

Faith was worked up. Her growing frustration overtook her senses. What good was all her engineering knowledge if she couldn’t even use it to help her android boyfriend? What good was any of this technology if she couldn’t use it to help the one person she loved?

A knock on the doorframe of her office pulled her attention outward and, while she was grateful for the distraction, she was also annoyed. Turning in her chair, she fully intended to snap at whoever disturbed her but she caught herself when she found it was Wesley.

“Hi, Lieutenant. Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Is now a good time?”

No, Faith wanted to say. No, it wasn’t a good time. But she didn’t need the cadet to see her spiraling. She couldn’t let any of them see, not when she was the one running things. So, she tried to take a deep breath and kept her emotions in check.

“What do you need, Wesley?” she asked.

He hesitated for a moment. With the way he fidgeted with the PADD he held, Faith’s frazzled nerves only got worse. A sinking sensation settled in the pit of her stomach and she got the feeling that whatever he had to say to her wasn’t going to be good.

“I have some news and I’m not sure how to best deliver it,” he said as he approached.

“What kind of news?”

“Of a personal nature.”

Faith’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s safe to assume it’s not personal to you.” It was clear that Wesley would not be there if he hadn’t found something that had to do with Faith specifically.

“No, sir.”

Taking a deep breath, or at least attempting to, Faith motioned for Wesley to enter her office. “Alright then, what is it?” she asked. There was an attempt to sound calm but Faith was anything but. Her body felt tight with tension. A thin layer of sweat broke out across her brow and she had to wipe her clammy hands on her pants.

“I was digging through the files Data was able to save, going through each of them to see if I could glean anything new on what we are going into,” Wesley said. It sounded as though he were buying time, trying to find the right words. “I found something I thought you needed to see.”

When he handed the PADD to her, that knot in her stomach twisted and she felt as though her blood had turned to ice in her veins. It immediately became apparent why Wesley came directly to her. For when she looked at the device, she found herself staring at her own image.

Not just any image, specifically a photo, one that looked as though it had been taken from security footage. She stood at an Engineering console, face pinched in concentration. Judging by the one pip on her collar, it had been taken prior to her promotion. Faith’s hand shook as she swiped the screen, only to find another image. And another, and another. All in Engineering.

She nearly dropped the PADD when the setting switched to Ten Forward. Not just any photo of her, one of a first date that was interrupted, one with her and Data smiling at each other with a single rose on the table between them. The next image was them leaning forward, their first kiss. Almost a kiss.

The one that was interrupted by the attack on the ship.

What were the odds? That their enemy should strike at that precise moment was almost too convenient. If Data had been tracked and watched prior, that meant once the two of them became involved, she became a focal point as well. However, the photos show that it was more than that. Her breathing came in quick gasps and her hands clutched the PADD so tight she thought it would break.

“Where did you find these?” she asked, vaguely aware he had already told her but forgetting in her distress. Her voice was tight and shook with emotion.

“Buried in Konro’s files,” Wesley explained. “When I saw these files, I grew concerned when I noticed the same naming convention the ship uses when taking screen captures of security footage. This leads me to believe that they were taken directly from within our own security system and then transferred later.”

That would mean the Oz’ods’ transmitter device had a whole other purpose. Either it was able to infiltrate the system and bypass their sensors and manual searches, or it was a distraction, a way for their adversary to do what he really wanted to do while they were concerned with the intruders.

But there was something else, something much worse that threatened to send Faith over the edge.

Because the photos are evidence that she and Data had been wrong. She hadn’t been collateral damage. She hadn’t been used as a ploy to get Data to comply. Fajo had used her that way, sure. However, Konro had been as interested in her as he had been with Data.

“Were these…” She had to focus to avoid stuttering. “Were these the only photos?”

She looked up at Wesley when he did not answer. The look on his face was answer enough. No. No, they weren’t. Why? Why photos of her and not Data? What did that mean? Did it even mean anything? It must.

Faith felt nauseated, she felt violated. The room started to spin.

She couldn’t hear Wesley calling her name, which meant she couldn’t hear the panic in his voice and didn’t know that something was desperately wrong. His hand was on her shoulder, gently shaking her in an attempt to draw her attention. It was useless.

Faith had fully dissociated and retreated into herself. What she faced was too much. Her ship’s duties she could handle. Repairing systems and protecting them, she could do in her sleep. Learning that she was the focal point of someone’s obsession tipped the scales against her. After the ship’s attack and the anxiety that had been building even prior to that event, there was no stopping the attack this time.

Did that mean Fajo’s benefactor had been watching her even after her capture? If he had access to security footage, how much had he seen? Had he intruded on their intimate moments as well? Security did not record personal quarters for obvious reasons but who’s to say Konro found another way? He was clearly capable.

But why? It couldn’t just be curiosity. The photos meant something more; they had to.

Had he watched her during her captivity as well? Was the dress Fajo forced her to wear part of a much sicker fantasy? Was that the real reason Fajo paraded her around? Did Fajo succumb to his injuries, or did the unknown enemy have him taken care of?

Faith’s chest was tight and it was only when she found herself gasping for breath that she realized she was hyperventilating. Wesley kneeled in front of her in concern.

“Lieutenant? Lieutenant?! You need to focus on your breathing,” he urged. “Follow my lead.”

With the confidence that came from a doctor’s prodigy, Wesley began breathing exercises as he tried to help her focus. However, by then it was too late. Faith was too far retreated into her own mind. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze wide and unfocused.

Wesley tapped his communicator but Faith barely heard his voice over her own ragged gasps. A moment later, she sat on the floor of Sickbay with Dr. Crusher kneeling beside her son.

“Faith, sweetie, it’s Beverly,” she said in that stern yet matronly voice of hers. “You need to breathe. You are having an anxiety attack and I need you to breathe with me.”

“She’s not listening,” Wesley reported. “She’s dissociating.”

Faith didn’t respond. She didn’t see Beverly, didn’t see Wesley. All she saw were those photos of herself, taken and used for who knows what sinister purpose. Her hands dropped the PADD so that she could fist her hair while she curled into herself. She shut her eyes and tried to push everything out of her mind.

Were they going to try another kidnapping? Were she and Data even more vulnerable now that he was cut off from his abilities? She couldn’t be taken again. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t go through that terror, wouldn’t.

“No. No no no no no no no…” She repeated the word again and again until it became gibberish, barely recognizable as anything other than a strangled noise crawling from her rapidly closing throat.

This was too much. It was all too much. Everything was too much. The lights were too bright, the noises were too loud, her feelings were too big to fit inside her chest. She couldn’t breathe anymore. Something had closed her throat. She tried to claw at herself so she can get it out. Get the heavy weight out of her.

The next thing she knew, something touched her neck and then everything stopped. The rushing in her ears quieted, the knot in her chest eased, and she took her first deep breath in minutes. Faith tried to open her eyes but still found darkness. Whatever noise surrounded her dissolved into sweet silence and she fell backward into oblivion.

When Faith came back to herself, her entire body felt as though it was made of lead. Eyelids heavy, she tried to drag them open but it took several attempts. Even then, she could only hold her eyes open for a second, not even long enough to take in her surroundings. Quickly, she returned to the darkness. Even still, she sensed she was not alone. A wave of safety and reassurance washed over her and something wet touched her forehead.

Faith nodded off once more.

The next time she regained consciousness, she was slightly more alert. It still took considerable effort to open her eyes. When she did, the first thing she saw was the ceiling of Sickbay. Above her, the lights had been dimmed and when she rolled her head to the side, she saw that she’d been put in a private room. Something cold touched her temple and Faith looked to the other side, where Deanna sat. She pressed a damp towel to Faith’s head to wipe the sweat, her dark eyes filled with concern.

Once she noticed Faith was awake, Deanna put the towel down and took her hand. “Hey, there,” she said, squeezing it. “You gave us quite a scare.”

Faith’s tongue was uncooperative when she attempted to talk. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“Shh, don’t try to speak,” Deanna said. “You are under heavy sedation.”

“Wh-what…ha-happened?” Her voice was hoarse and sounded small to her own ears, more like a tired child rather than a full-grown adult.

“You had an anxiety attack,” Deanna explained. “A big one that has most likely been building for hours, possibly days.”

An anxiety attack. Yes, that would make sense. But what triggered it? The hazy images resurfaced in Faith’s addled mind and she suddenly remembered.

“Did you see them?”

The way Deanna’s lips pursed, Faith knew the answer before she uttered it. “Yes, we saw.”

If she hadn’t been pumped full of drugs, the thought would have sent Faith spiraling again. Instead, she weakly squeezed Deanna’s hand back, using the weight of it to ground her as she often did with Data. The longer she remained awake, the more her head started to clear. She still couldn’t move all that much, not that she was in a rush to go anywhere.

It was the opposite. She wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide, somewhere their stalker couldn’t see or even find her.

“I feel so violated.”

“And you have every right to be. This is a total invasion of your privacy and safety. A detailed report has been filed through private channels and Dr. Crusher has ordered a full security sweep of all monitoring systems. We will not stand for this.”

Faith didn't have words. Her vision swam with tears and she could feel them trailing down her cheeks, warm against her cool skin. Deanna reached out to brush them away. It took all her strength but Faith curled on her side and leaned into Deanna’s waiting embrace.

Her friend held her as she cried and Faith couldn't even bring herself to feel ashamed or self-conscious. She hadn’t fully wept in front of anyone but Data in years. Deanna remained silent, stroking her hair, and hugging her tight. Their solidarity in that moment could not be broken.

“We will figure this out,” Deanna assured Faith in a firm voice that she rarely used. “We will find out who did this and make sure they pay.”

“Where’s Data?”

“He is still conducting interviews. We thought it would be best to wait until you were awake before telling him. It’s your business after all, not ours. Would you like us to call for him?”

Faith stayed nuzzled against Deanna. Normally, she would have immediately said yes, but given his new emotional state and how important the interviews were, she was forced to think about what was best for everyone, not just herself. Duty won out in the end.

“Let’s wait until he’s done,” she said. “He’ll rush up here the second he can and we need all the information they can get. I don’t want to jeopardize finding the mole. Removing them is our best way of cutting off Konro’s intel.”

The door opened and Beverly walked in with a comforting smile. “You’re awake,” she said, moving to stand by Deanna. “I am sorry for the sedation but you tried to hurt yourself.”

That was news to Faith. When she looked down, she realized her hands were covered with gloves, a protective measure to prevent her from injuring herself. She hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“I don’t remember that part.”

That troubled Faith greatly. In her numerous anxiety attacks over the years, she had never once tried to physically harm herself. That had been a line she hadn’t crossed.

Until now.

Beverly sat on the edge of the bed. “You were hyperventilating and were trying to find a way to breathe,” she explained gently. “No harm was done. The gloves are just a precaution.”

They fell into silence. With the sedation, Faith did not have the urge or energy to talk. Neither did Deanna or Beverly. There was a sense of understanding that Faith didn’t have to go into more detail about her feelings because, on some level, they understood.

Surrounded by her two friends, Faith could feel their love and concern. Her eyelids drooped but she didn’t want to fall asleep again. Her need for answers was stronger than the pull of blissful darkness.

“How many were there?” she asked.

Beverly rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Many.”

That answer wasn’t good enough for Faith. “I want a number,” she demanded.

Deanna and Beverly shared a look before they met her gaze once more. “Are you sure that’s wise?” Deanna asked.

“Fuck wise. I need to know.”

“There were hundreds,” Beverly said. “And that was what Wesley was able to recover. Most likely there were more.”

Fresh tears came. “Shit.” She had started to hope it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Turned out it was worse.

Deanna hugged her tighter and Beverly joined the embrace. Faith cried until she didn’t have any tears left until her sobs were dry and full of gasps. The medication kept her breathing going, stopped her from spiraling once more. However, it also made her exhausted. Once she had expended what little energy she had, she knew she would fall back to sleep.

“Rest, Faith,” Deanna said, stroking her curls. “I will be right here. I won’t leave until Data comes.”

“You’re safe here,” Beverly assured her.

“Nowhere is safe,” Faith muttered, her eyes falling closed. “That’s been taken away.”

They said nothing, only held her until she drifted back into nothing.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi Kait! Admittedly, I'm a little embarrassed to ask this, since I'm fairly certain you'll recognize me, but I was looking around your page and I saw that match-ups were open, and... given my intense conflict regarding who the literal fuck I'd actually work well within MysMe, I thought I'd give it a shot. It's a lot easier to talk about myself under the guise of anonymity, so I suppose I'll start there. I'm a college freshman diagnosed with anxiety and depression hoping to get my double major in Psychology and Philosophy, and an eventual PHD in Psych. I am prone to overworking myself and tend to use escapism as an outlet for the fact that I'm never particularly satisfied with my own effort. I spend most of my free time outside of class sitting in my room working on art, writing, or trying to socialize with people (be it online or offline). I play a fair amount of games, but barely have the time to do so because of my tendency to overwork myself. I did a lot of theater and performance throughout my life, so I have a passion for watching musicals and assisting in performances backstage. I like being onstage as well, but previously it's proved more trouble than it's worth, especially since I'm always the 'reliable' cast, not the 'talented' cast. I also have an interest in flower language and plants, despite the fact that I kill most every plant I touch. As for my personality... that one is a little complicated. Offline I perceive myself to be an absolute anxious wreck. I'm always tired and always running around in an attempt to keep up with my responsibilities. However, outwardly people tend to perceive me as confident and knowledgable. I do wonderful in my academics and have a love for debate and asking hard questions, even if internally I am screaming at myself for stuttering or seeming silly. Online I tend to be a lot more open about myself and my emotions, but still fairly guarded as I try my best to maintain my privacy. I try to make people happy and build connections online since I feel more 'myself' there. Once I get close to someone I tend to enjoy peaceful silence with them. I'm a very physically affectionate person as words fail me so often, and I like listening to people just not too much. Chatterboxes get on my nerves, especially when someone repeats the same phrase over and over again. I have noise sensitivity issues as well, which doesn't help things. I'm also terrified of water - specifically the ocean. Any mention of swimming and I panic. I also have slight jealousy issues due to past relationship trauma. I'm 5'7 with a brown pixie cut that's admittedly a little overgrown right now, rose gold rounded square glasses with a slight cat eye, and blue-green eyes that tend to shift colors depending on what I'm wearing. I have quite a few birthmarks littered on my skin - most importantly one above my lip and another under my right eye. My ears are pierced, and I tend to wear black hoops unless I'm dressing up. Day to day I tend to look like your typical tired college student, but if I'm going somewhere I try to dress in cottagecore style attire with lots of sparkly makeup. I'm pan, and my love languages are physical touch and quality time. Something as simple as a hug or a hand to hold can turn me from stressed and panicked to melty and calm in minutes. I value intelligence a lot in a person, which is why I tend to like the nerdy types of characters in media. I also need someone who isn't shy about reminding me to not beat myself up. I tend to spiral anxiety wise a lot, especially if I believe that I've hurt my partner. I want someone who'll be there for me despite the mistakes that we might make. Someone long term. I have two partners currently, but I don't think that I'd end up polyamorous in any other circumstance than those two. Thank you for taking the time to read this, Kait. I apologize for how lengthy it ended up being haha. Please remember that you're greatly appreciated! Have a wonderful day. — 🌸

I match you with...

Jumin!

You value quiet intimacy.

You're not looking for a relationship where you feel as though you have to fill in the silence every waking moment. You want somebody that you can be comfortable with and being comfortable means the world to you. That's what you value at the end of the day. You're not looking for something that has way more energy than you can even remotely handle, you're looking for something that is peaceful and brings you a sense of contentment with your life.

You don't want something that's overwhelmingly fraught with energy. You want to be with somebody after a long day, not saying anything, and just sharing a look that says all that needs to be said. That's your ideal relationship. Mutual understanding. No pressure. Just a silence that says, "I'm here, I'm listening, and you're safe" both ways.

Which is why I was torn between Jaehee and Jumin when I looked at your submission without bias. Ultimately, I came to this conclusion as soon as I noted how you felt as though you needed a partner who had the ability to say something when you need a reminder to be nicer to yourself. and Jumin isn't one to mince words. He'll say what needs to be said and he won't hold back.

That is because he understands that if you are close to him, you'll understand where he's coming from when he says things to you in a very matter-of-fact way. He's not the kind of person who will hold back when you need to hear something.

He understands that you're going to know what he means when he says something bluntly. That's the important thing about being in a relationship with him. He said something from the heart, and he won't hold back if you have communicated to him that you need him to be honest. He will expect the same from you because that is what a great relationship is founded on. Communication. You don't have to be afraid of holding back when you’re with him. 

[thedetectivesystem]

Cicada

Gen

Summary: After Near's unusual behavior, the SPK tries to understand him.

Notes: this is a one-shot that i made a while ago for bpd awareness i had just forgotten about it until now. we have bpd and i projected onto near of what bpd splits can be like for both the person and the others around you. please note that not every experience is the same.

Kudos and comments are appreciated !

Halle had no idea what to do the first time it happened. Her boss yelled and cried at her inside headquarters with hate. After gathering her thoughts and settling her anxiety, she could only express it in her head: it was like seeing a child delude himself with whatever false scenario his mind came up with. Gevanni and Rester were stunned, almost frightened, by the interaction.

Nears' face streamed with tears; the expression was one of both rage and fear. None of them had ever heard such a booming voice from the younger man; his voice cracked while he yelled and yelled. They all kept their physical distance from him as he went on.

"It was all your fault that he’s dead!" He accused, "He’s gone because you didn’t bother telling me what he was going to do, and you stupidly sent those men after my fucking friend!" His throat choked up a sob. "Can't you just leave too?" His employees were stunned as he yelled.

Halle stood there, nervous about losing her job because of Near's emotions and how he perceived the scenario, but also overwhelmed with sympathy for the tragic child in front of her.

"Just leave!" His voice cracked: "Do what everyone else did, and fucking leave me!"

Gevanni stood up from his chair and carefully approached Near. "Near, take a deep breath." He made sure to keep a good distance so as not to overwhelm the boy. "Breathe, breathe."

Near’s body began to shake, his throat choked out sobs, and he shook his head. A sign of his usual stubbornness, but his judgment was clouded by such physically painful emotions. His body leaned slightly onto Gevanni’s.

"Near, you’re spiraling; you need to breathe." Gevanni spoke gently: "Breathe in for four seconds, hold it for four seconds, and breathe out for the same amount of time."

Halle had no idea what she had done to elicit such a reaction from Near; he had already been moody for the day, even though all she had done was try to update him on their current case. She watched as Gevanni tried to calm himself. The man had told her that he was once a psychology student, so she knew he could figure out why Near had such an outburst.

When he fully ignored Halle's existence in front of him, Near followed Gevanni's words perfectly, and a feeling of exhaustion washed over him. Gevanni wanted to ask the boy what had triggered this reaction, but he knew he should let Near rest first.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Gevanni inquired.

Near nodded. All that had once been so strong had taken its toll on him, and all that remained was fatigue. He picked up a handful of his toys off the floor and made his own way to the elevator. Gevanni appeared hesitant to let Near go on his own, but he stayed because he knew that the boy needed his alone time.

As Near left for his room, the room fell silent. Halle hadn't realized she'd dropped her cup of coffee until she sighed and looked at the floor. She knelt and picked up the cup before placing it on her desk.

"What was that about?" Rester questioned them, breaking their silence.

"A split." Gevanni's gaze remained fixed on the elevator. "Or so I believe; I'm not exactly a professional."

"A split?" Halle repeated, curious as to what he had meant.

"Yeah, it’s a term for two different types of disorders; in Near’s case, I think he should see someone for BPD," Gevanni explained. "He was displaying signs of age regression too."

Halle has heard of the word before; after all, given her line of work, it is necessary to be more than just aware of mental problems. As Gevanni talked more, she went over to the closet to get cleaning tools to clean up her coffee.

"I’m having trouble following." Rester sighed.

"BPD is a trauma disorder, and to be honest, it's not easy losing everyone you love in a murder case you were assigned to do when you were 13 years old." Gevanni sounded frustrated, although he was taking a deep breath. "All I'm saying is that it's clear that Near isn't mentally well as a result of his trauma. I'm not sure if he'll listen and find a therapist, but I'll do what I can."

"Alright," Rester said quietly. "But why did he snap at Halle?"

"She might have triggered a split by saying or doing something that he didn’t like." Gevanni shrugged. "Who knows? I’ll try asking him once he’s rested and had time to himself."

Halle finished cleaning up her mess and thoughtfully nibbled the inside of her cheek. She was aware of how horrible everything was during the Kira case, and she couldn't imagine how Near must've felt after losing so many people he cared about, people he considered his family. She had also lost a family member due to Kira, but it had never led her to feel this way, despite the fact that she was still mourning their deaths. Near simply had little to no reaction to the murders of Mello, L, and Matt. So she didn't think about it or what he must have been doing in private. She reflected extensively on Near's past, his childhood, and how he was groomed and placed in a competitive environment. When Near described his background and environment to them, all she could think of was how cult-like the institution was.

She felt selfish in certain ways, despite the fact that this was a work setting; however, this work setting was not common. The SPK watched Near grow up, and they all grew closer like family. She watched Near develop into the man he is today—a miserable man who has everything locked up. It wasn’t her responsibility to take care of him, but she viewed him as a son, and if anything became too much and something bad happened, she didn’t think that she could live with herself.

"Would it be best if I talked to him as well?" She asked.

"Yeah, once he’s able to be around you again, it’s important to help him process this and what he’s feeling," Gevanni explained as he went to sit back down at his desk.

"Okay." She nodded.

Near isn't unfamiliar with the concept of emotions or talking about them. He's done it before, but it's a rare occurrence. Halle wonders if Near feels it disturbs people to do so or if it's just a dread of letting others get close. Actually, it might be a lot of things. She stared at her computer, pondering what to say once Near felt better; all she could do at this point was understand what he was going through and put her research into it.