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kaermorhenatnight · 3 months

Text

Light in the shadows

Rolan smut, NSFW, minors don't interact, please

Huge thanks to @commander-krios for proofreading and for all of the comments, suggestions and corrections! You’re amazing!

Rolan x fem!reader smut, Reader is one of the tiefling refugees from Elturel, afab, she/her. No y/n used. She's been friends with our favorite tiefling bachelor and decides to make her move during the tiefling party that they should have after act II. Tav appears and is gn (they/them)

CW | spoilers for acts I and II with mentions of violence, cursing, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, spells used for sex (including detect thoughts – consensually), Rolan's POV for a moment, biting and hickeys, tail play, Rolan is insecure about his body at first, dom Rolan, dirty talk, edging, Karlach x Shadowheart makes an appearance because I love them

Word count | 5,5k

Note: I tried to keep the spells as correct as possible (including components, duration and spell slots) because I am fun like that. If I messed something up about that please let me know! English is my second language so any tips and corrections about my writing are more than welcome!

Enjoy!

It was a nightmare. All of it. If not for blood pouring down your temple, sharp pain in your side and pounding in your head, you could pretend it was all a bad dream, that you would soon wake up from. Saying the shadow-cursed land was unwelcoming would be an understatement, but the attack... The screams. Zevlor, the calm, brave, strong Zevlor, just froze. Cal, Lia, and many others were dragged away. Others were bleeding out in the dirt. Some of you tried to fight, Rolan yelled to fall back, protecting the kids with everything he had. If not for his well-aimed spells, and the fight Cal and Lia put up keeping the cultists busy, none of you would have made it to the unexpected sanctuary of Last Light Inn.

Rolan took care of your wounds as best as he could. Despite your protests, he convinced the lovely cleric, Isobel, the woman responsible for the safety of the Inn, to come downstairs and lend some of her magic to help with your head injury.

Even though he went to great lengths to ensure your comfort, you could see all of his thoughts were preoccupied with his siblings' kidnapping and his perceived guilt in their capture. He was drinking himself numb, screaming at the kids who were just trying their best to show gratitude for all he'd done. He even lashed out at Tav when they offered help. Luckily for all of you, Tav not only brought Cal and Lia back safe and sound, but they also found, saved, and sent back to the Inn a slightly tipsy Rolan, who had disappeared to rescue his family on his own without accepting any help.

He did apologize to Tav afterward and thanked them for saving his ass, but gods, you and his family had to force it out of him with threats of violence.

You weren't that close before. You were good friends with Lia back in Elturel. It’s how you met him the first time. You liked him. He was fun to be around, although you would never feed his ego by telling him that, or risk being mercilessly made fun of by Lia, by sharing it with her. He was smart and funny, even if a little snarky and grumpy. You thought it was only natural that the difficulty and stress of your current situation brought you closer together. It didn't mean anything. Although you couldn’t help noticing him not being that attentive towards anyone else after all of you got to safety and could tend to your wounds. But you didn't want to give yourself hope. You couldn't. Life was difficult enough without getting your heart broken if you let yourself believe he might feel about you how you feel about him.

Right?

After what you heard was a terrifying and exhausting battle, the curse devouring this land was finally lifted. The sky started clearing up. A small party sounded like a pleasant idea, not unlike the gathering you held at Tav's camp after they helped you back at the grove.

And now you sit here, wine bottle in hand, watching with glee as everyone laughs and dances, celebrating the victory and honoring the fallen. Tav told you the truth about Zevlor. You can't find it in you to be angry at him. Honestly, you are just happy he survived and escaped.

Cal and Lia are on the other side of the room laughing, bothering Rolan about something. He lets out a frustrated groan, but the music of Alfira’s lute and the noise of conversation around them drown out what they are saying. You just look at them, smiling, happy to see them safe, happy to see Rolan relaxing in his own way, with his family by his side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Come on, she's been pining for you for so long. And she's not subtle about it either. How can you not see it?” Lia is a little too loud for Rolan's comfort but everyone around them doesn't seem to notice anyway, in the haze of celebration. “I mean, I know I'm pretty great, but she wasn't coming to visit so often just to see me.”

“That’s a lovely tale, but I would appreciate it if you stopped spinning it. You are seeing things that are not there.”

“Gods, you are the dumbest smart person I know.”

“Are you also gonna pretend,” Cal chimes in, “your tail doesn't sweep the floor like you're a godsdamned kitten when she's talking to you?”

Rolan groans, hiding his face in his hands, trying to feign annoyance, while his cheeks and ears burn.

The truth is he couldn't believe you'd ever even look at him. In his eyes, you were a strong warrior, someone who he had once seen kill two people with one swing of a sword. Powerful, strong, courageous. And he's just a scrawny wizard who keeps getting his ass kicked. While he appreciates his siblings' attempts to support him, the amount of faith they are putting in his chances is ridiculously unrealistic.

He's going to try, one day, when he might have a chance. But he's not going to delude himself that he has it now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Unless you are casting a sending spell, I don't think he's gonna be able to read your mind.” Tav sits next to you and nudges your shoulder, pointing at Rolan with a quick nod. “I’m sure Cal and Lia, as happy as they are to be reunited with him, won't mind if you steal your boyfriend for an hour or two for some… relaxation… upstairs.”

What?

“What?”

“Hey, I know there's not much privacy on the road and this might be your last night under a solid roof for some time. I imagine it must be hard for couples to spend quality time together in such circumstances.” They don't sound like they're teasing. In fact, Tav sounds painfully sincere and supportive.

‘Couples’.

‘Boyfriend’?

“I— I'm not… I mean… We…” You trip over your own words, not sure what to say. “We are not a couple.”

“Oh.” The surprise on their face is confusing you. Why would they think you are a couple? Were you that obvious with your crush that they just assumed this level of openly shown adoration must mean an established relationship? That would mean Rolan must see it too. What if he starts pushing you away, displeased with your feelings for him? “Well, apologies for assuming.” They rub the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed. “I just saw how attentive he was… and the way Cal and Lia were talking about you… Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's alright, no apology needed.”

You sit in silence for a moment but it keeps bugging you.

“What did Cal and Lia say?”

“Well, how happy they are that Rolan and you ‘found each other’ and how ‘less unbearable’ he is when you're around… Like I said, I didn't know they meant friendship and it was rude of me to assume.”

Oh.

“I see,” you say and turn to look around the room. No matter how hard you try you can't not think about it. You would think the two of you were a couple if you heard them speak like that. It spreads warmth in your chest knowing Rolan's siblings see your influence on him that way. Your thoughts might be too obvious in your expression because Tav nudges you again.

“You wouldn't mind that though, huh?”

Your skin is naturally red. Usually, it’s hard to see blush on your face, but now you are convinced a blind person would notice.

“Don't be embarrassed. There’s enough darkness in the world to be negative about, some love here and there is what truly makes everything worth it.” They smile at you with encouragement. “And… he has been staring at you throughout our entire conversation.”

You look up and the moment Rolan's eyes meet yours he looks away, his face slightly darker.

“I know it's not my business and far be it from me to mingle in your love life… but it's rare to have a moment of peace like this. Go talk to him, enjoy the celebrations.” They get up and wander off to talk to other people. After all, they're the hero of the hour everyone wants a piece of. Again.

And…they're right. You probably won't try to make a move, but you can't let your confused heart stop you from spending time with your friends. Especially after all you've been through. As soon as you walk up, Lia puts her arm around you and hugs you.

“I thought you were gonna sulk there alone forever! Is your head acting up again?” she points at the almost-healed wound on your temple.

“Oh no, I can barely feel it.”

You smile. It's nice. Cal is leaning against the wall, wine bottle in hand. Lia is holding you with her arm around your shoulders.

You start with small talk, but in your current situation, weather and gossip don't really hold up. But as soon as Lia mentions the upcoming threat of the Absolute army, Cal steps in.

“We can discuss it tomorrow. And the day after that. Today, let's talk about nice things. Like Rolan finally getting that big boy job in Baldur's Gate.”

Up until now, you tried not to pay too much attention to Rolan, being very self-aware of your gestures, but now you can do it unsuspiciously. There is something in the way he is leaning against the table, in his relaxed posture, in the lazy smile, that is making you melt a little.

“Oh yes, it almost makes me want to treat you with more respect,” Lia laughs, poking Rolan in the ribs with her finger. “The Great Wizard Rolan of Elturel!”

“Ha… ha… love the respect.” Rolan rolls his eyes and straightens his robe where she wrinkled it slightly. You can't help but follow his hands’ movement with your eyes, wishing to feel them on your skin.

What is wrong with you? You are trying to have a conversation and your mind just wanders off into territories you would prefer not to explore in a room full of people.

“I did say ‘almost’.”

Your eyes meet Rolan's again. He smiles, almost shyly, and his cheeks darken. You fight the urge to look away. Maybe thanks to Tav's encouragement, maybe because of the wine, you hold his gaze and return the smile.

“Well, look at that,” Cal says loudly and hurriedly finishes the wine in his bottle. It takes him a few chugs, too many to be fully comfortable. “My wine is finished. Lia, wanna go get some more?” He gives his sister a look that you cannot fully decipher before they both walk away, leaving you and Rolan alone. You move to stand next to him, taking Cal’s place by the wall.

“It's good to see you feeling better,” he says, shifting ever so slightly like he's trying to stand closer to you.

“I could say the same thing about you.” You catch yourself moving closer. “You were a wreck without these two.”

“They're… they're family.” He looks down, his fingers clench on the edge of the table, and his brow furrows. Even after everything, he still blames himself.

“I know.” You give his hand a sympathetic squeeze and his entire body tenses. Oh shit. Did you overstep a boundary? “Sorry,” you mumble, panic taking over your body as you move your hand away, trying to take a step back, but Rolan reaches out to you quickly and takes your hand in his.

“No! No, it's… thank you.”

He doesn't let go. You are only holding hands but it feels more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone. Gods, you want him. You want to be close, to hug him, kiss him. You want to let him know how much you care, how dear he is to you. And if not now, then when? If he doesn't reciprocate, so be it. You are adults. Your friendship can survive a moment of embarrassment.

You take a step towards him, put your free hand on his chest, and press a kiss against his lips. You brace yourself for rejection as you start to pull away, but he doesn't let you. He puts his hand on your cheek and pulls you back in.

Kissing him feels right. Like his lips were made to be on yours. Like his hands belonged on the curves of your waist.

You are careful at first. Just relishing in the softness of the gesture. But when he parts his lips and you feel the warm flash of his tongue on your bottom lip, you are gone. Your hands find the front of his robes to pull him even closer. For a moment, you forget where you are but a heavy arm falling on your shoulder painfully reminds you.

“You two should get a room.”

You turn, letting go of Rolan in panic, but when you see the smiling, heavily intoxicated face of Karlach, you relax. “Get it? Cause we're in an Inn!” She laughs joyfully, swaying on her feet, and then wanders off, not even trying to walk in a straight line.

“Ugh, they are going to be so obnoxious about being right.” Rolan rubs the bridge of his nose.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, Cal and Lia were trying to convince me… uh— that you…” he pauses and all of his confidence leaves him. But you are starting to understand and it makes your hearts flutter.

“I like you, if that's what you're getting at.” You spare him the embarrassment. “I really like you, Rolan.”

“Well, I gathered that.” He smirks and touches his mouth. “Do you… want to go upstairs?” He glances at Karlach who is now wrapping her arms around Shadowheart. “To ‘get a room’?”

You laugh and grab his hand.

“Sure, I'd love to.”

He pulls you behind him towards the stairs. “Have fun!” Lia says to you as you pass her by, and Rolan cringes, avoiding her gaze.

As soon as you leave everyone's line of sight, Rolan turns and takes your face in his hands.

“If I had known…” He is so gentle, fingers barely grazing your skin. His eyes wander around your face, drinking you in. “I wanted to wait until we got to Baldur's Gate and I became a wizard's apprentice and… when I'd finally be somebody… I would ask if you'd allow me to court you.”

“Rolan, what are you talking about?” You place your hands on his. “You don't need validation from some stuck-up jerk in his stupid tower to be somebody.”

“Actually, the Ramazith Tower is quite impress—”

“I adore you,” you interrupt. “You. Not what you can do or what you can become.”

You feel dizzy. He's so close.

He kisses you again. Slowly. Purposefully. His tail wraps around your leg and pulls you even closer. You whimper as the tip, you're not sure if it's accidental or not, strokes the inside of your thigh. Rolan pauses for a split second before repeating the motion, this time definitely on purpose.

“Fuck— Rolan… I'm sure there's an empty room here somewhere,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “I— Someone will hear us.”

“Well, if you can't stay quiet…” You can almost hear his smug smile before you feel his tail loosening its grip, getting more freedom of movement to climb up your leg and grind against your cunt.

You press your face into his chest in a desperate attempt to muffle a moan that is forced from your throat. He steadies you with a firm grip on your waist but doesn't stop.

You can't talk, you can't think, you can barely breathe. He has you wrapped around his finger and he hasn't even taken your clothes off yet. Every stroke brings you closer to release and makes it harder not to cry out in pleasure. You muster all of your self-control to grab his tail and move it away from you.

“Let’s find a room,” you say, voice hoarse. “So I can get you out of these robes and make you see stars.”

He swallows hard and tugs on your arm to lead you to a door in the corner. The door seems stuck at first, but one strong push gets it open. The room is not in the best state, most of the furniture is broken and scattered across the floor. The bed, except for dust and a few broken pieces of wood on top, is holding together pretty well though. A quick spell and a flick of his wrist from Rolan cleans the sheets enough for them to be almost presentable and even smell like lavender and vanilla. Flames appear on the candles that are still left on the walls.

“There are some advantages to bedding a wizard,” he says with a confident smile.

“I can't wait to learn what the others are.”

He places one hand on your cheek, pulling you into another kiss, and the other hand travels down until it stops between your legs. Him palming you through your leggings is enough to make you whimper. When he starts moving, his fingers circling your clit, your knees buckle underneath you and if Rolan didn't catch you, wrapping his arm around your waist and anchoring you against his chest, you might have fallen.

Even through the fabric, with movement restricted by both of your bodies pressing against each other, he brings you achingly close to release.

“Rolan… I— Gods…” Your breath is reduced to huffs and whimpers. He eagerly muffles them with a kiss so hungry and sloppy, it's all tongue and teeth clashing.

“Let go,” he whispers, breaking the kiss and letting you come up for air. “I've waited so long to see you come undone in my arms.”

As aroused as you are, the dry friction of the fabric becomes a little uncomfortable. You can't think of anything other than how much you want to get rid of all the clothing that separates you from Rolan right now.

“Take off your clothes then,” you say, shifting a little to move away from his touch. “And fuck me into tomorrow.”

You think you see his jaw tense up a little, but can't be certain in the dim light.

He leads you towards the bed and sits next to you, helping you get rid of your clothes, but when you gently tug on the hem of his robe he nudges your hand away.

“What's wrong?” This time you are sure something is bothering him.

“It's nothing,” he assures you, but his posture and tone of voice betray him.

“If you don't want to do this, you don't have to… I mean, obviously, you don't have to, but… I mean— I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“It's not that. I… really want this with you. I promise I will make you feel good.” He looks down and whispers to himself. “I just don't want you to see me.”

You know there's a lot of insecurities under Rolan's confident facade. He acts arrogant to hide how unsure of his abilities he is. He worries that Cal and Lia not being his blood means they don't see him as real family. He doesn't believe he is worth something in your eyes, or anyone else’s, until he proves himself in the city.

Despite all of that, you would never assume he felt insecure about his body. You always thought he would consider any focus on the physical appearance beneath him.

“Rolan... why?”

“I'm not exactly the… physical-prowess type. I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed with what you see.”

“I could never be disappointed with you. With anything about you.” You tangle your fingers with his and place a kiss on the back of his hand. “You can read me.”

“What?”

“Detect my thoughts. At any point, you can look into my mind. No need to warn me or even ask. Just look.”

You are scared. Scared that your feelings are going to overwhelm him, that they would be more than he is in for. But he needs to see for himself the way you feel about him.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

Rolan stares at you for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, before leading your hand toward the clasp at the front of his robe.

With shaking fingers, you help him out of his robes and then the shirt underneath. You want to memorize every inch of his skin you uncover. You want to kiss every part of him. Feel every part of him. You slide off the bed and settle between his legs. He watches you wide-eyed as you unbutton his pants and pull his cock out.

You start slowly, licking the tip before moving up and down the shaft. Rolan lets out a ragged breath, clutching at the sheets. When you suck the tip into your mouth, he whimpers softly. But it's not enough. For you anyway. You want to feel him hit the back of your throat. Choke on him until tears stream down your cheeks. You want him to completely ruin you.

Your hands wander, stroking his thighs and then his stomach. Tracing the infernal ridges, you relish in the softness of his flesh as you dip your head down until your nose brushes his navel. Your throat contracts around his cock and gods, you love the sounds that he makes.

When you pull away briefly, only to dive right back onto his cock, Rolan shifts slightly and you hear shuffling of fabric where his discarded robe lies next to him, as he pulls a piece of copper from a pocket. Then he whispers words of a spell and you feel tingling in your head. You look up. Rolan's eyes are set on yours.

You allow him in your mind. Let him see everything. All the lust and yearning. How you try so hard to burn the view in front of you into your memory forever. The view of his chest raising with heavy breaths as you continue to suck his cock; Muscles in his forearms flexing under prominent veins; His soft stomach you want to lick and kiss and leave bite marks on. He was scared of undressing because his body is not built like a brick house but gods, and now also Rolan, know it's not what you want, not what you need. Every single part of his body sends shivers of lust through you. You want him, need him, in every way possible.

You drag your tongue against the side of his cock. You can feel his presence in your head fading as his focus falters and then completely disappears when you suck in your cheeks and take his whole length again. Tears form in the corners of your eyes in reaction to the gag.

Rolan caresses your cheek, pulling you away and wiping your tears with his thumb.

“I— Wow.” He helps you up and pulls onto his lap. He's holding you close, one hand gently scratching your back and the other gripping your thigh, his face awestruck as he stares into your eyes.

You hoped hearing your thoughts would put Rolan's mind at ease, but it did so much more than that. You can see a sudden surge of confidence that you didn't expect, even in him. He roughly grabs you and pushes you down on the bed, caging you with his arms.

“I am going to make you beg for me.” His voice is almost a growl in his throat. He lowers himself and without any further hesitation, dives down your body, his tongue pressing flat against your clit.

It's so much better than anything you imagined, and you imagined a lot. Every lick, every flick of his tongue sends a burning hot jolt of pleasure from your cunt through your entire body to the tips of your fingers and toes. You dig your nails into the sheets, trying to ground yourself. You buck your hips, begging for more friction, more pleasure, more.

You feel the tingling in your mind again and let him in immediately.

The coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter and you can feel that if he keeps going like that it will soon snap. That's when he stops. Raises his head and looks at you, smug and a little mischievous. He knows what he did.

“Rolan, what the fuck?”

“You need to be patient. I will take care of you, I promise. But I want to take my time.” Before you respond, his head is back between your legs. The spell connecting you fades, but he doesn't need it anymore to know when you are close. He listened to the change in the pitch of your moans. The slight difference in the way your body tenses. And he's always been a quick learner.

The buildup is even faster this time, and again, he brings you painfully close to release before stopping.

“You're mean,” you whimper, tears now streaming down your face.

“A little.” He chuckles but goes back to work immediately after he sees your muscles relax a bit. His grip on your thighs is unyielding, holding you in place so he can devour you.

You can feel your orgasm approaching again and you don't think you can take the teasing anymore. You reach down and grab Rolan's horn, holding to it like a lifeline. “Rolan, please… I can't— Let me finish… Please…” Your legs are shaking, your body burns. You feel like you're going to die if he pulls away now.

He doesn't. When he can see how close you are, this time he just looks up to watch as you cum on his tongue, keeping the pressure and tempo going as you ride out your orgasm. He only stops when you push him away, high in the afterglow.

“Hells, Rolan…”

“Told you I was gonna make you beg.”

“You fucking asshole,” you laugh, grabbing his hand and urging him to lie next to you. He complies, clumsily kicking his shoes and trousers off, cleaning his face that's still dripping with your slick with a quick spell. His cock is now digging into your thigh and he's littering your neck and shoulders with kisses. Gentle at first, then harder, with more teeth, leaving marks. You expected this possessiveness from him yet it still surprises you a little. He pulls your leg to rest around his hip. His tongue is soothing the bites and bruises he has left on your skin.

“Do you want to continue?” He raises his head and bucks his hips involuntarily, grinding against you.

“Fuck yes.”

You turn to him fully, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him closer. His lips, kiss bruised, are back on yours. You flip him on his back, straddling him, his cock between your folds, the tip hitting your clit as you start rocking your hips.

His grip on your thighs is strong, desperate. He guides your movement, pressing his head back into the pillow.

“Ride me,” he pleads, his nails digging deeper into the flesh of your legs. And how can you refuse, when he's asking so nicely?

You shift to press the tip of his cock against your entrance and then sit down taking him in one swift motion. He thoroughly prepared you with his mouth but the stretch still steals the breath from your lungs.

“Hells,” you sigh, stilling for a moment to adjust to him.

He whispers your name with a reverence usually reserved only for the gods. Then he whispers something else. A spell. And you feel a gentle pressure of the mage hand at your clit. You start rocking your hips and his cock starts pressing deliciously against all the right spots inside of you. He has to recast the mage hand every other minute but he does it without any delay, the moment it would disappear, it appears again, as if he's counting the seconds to make sure your pleasure never falters.

“Rolan, you fill me so well.” You don't even think about it, the words just spill from your mouth. But they don't go unnoticed. You can see Rolan's eyes darken as something changes in him. He grabs you roughly again and rolls over to be on top of you. The slow rolling of your hips is replaced by his thrusts. The first two are restrained, but then he picks up the pace. He steadies himself on his elbows, chest pressed against yours, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck.

“Say it again,” he groans into your ear. His voice is low, lustful. A demanding hunger, that mirrors your own.

“You make me feel so good— Gods…” Your sentence is cut short by a moan Rolan pulls from you, his mage hand steadily circling your clit. “I never want to stop doing this. You fuck me so well, Rolan.”

The sounds he is making are animalistic. His movement becomes erratic and soon you can feel him twitching, spilling into you. The warmth of his seed fills you and the sweet honey of his incomprehensible praises tickles your neck. The mage hand seems to flicker for a moment as Rolan's climax overwhelms him, but he quickly gets his bearings and the steady pressure on your clit is back. His cock is slowly softening as he pulls out, shifting to kneel between your thighs. You can feel his seed spilling out of you as your muscles contract and relax, grieving the loss of his cock. Rolan looks between your legs like he's hypnotized for a moment. Droplets of sweat are glistening on his chest, his hair is in disarray. He is so fucking handsome.

When you feel Rolan's fingers circle your entrance and then, carefully minding his claws, sink into you, the tension inside comes close to snapping again. Your back arches as you're inching closer and closer to release and then when it overflows you, your vision blurs, your whole body tenses and soon you are gently pushing Rolan's hand away, overstimulated.

As he pulls his fingers out, he casts a spell and you feel his seed disappear and your thighs and his fingers are clean and dry again. It puts your mind at ease, not having to worry about any surprises in a few months.

“I don't think I could ever get tired of that view.” Rolan cocks his head slightly, his gaze caressing your body. His tail wraps around your calf.

“Well, I could never get tired of presenting it to you.” You let out a breathless laugh, collecting yourself. You sit up and place a quick kiss on his lips. It feels almost out of place, the gentleness of it, after what you just did. Slowly both of you start putting your clothes on between the kisses and you want to ask if he would like to stay here or go back downstairs, but you don't get that chance.

The door opens with a thump as it hits the wall and two people stumble inside not even noticing you at first, their limbs tangled, their lips joined. You wouldn't even recognize them if not for blue flames engulfing the tall figure of Karlach accompanied by Shadowheart. Good for her. You see a flash when Dancing Lights is cast.

“Oh shit, sorry.” Karlach laughs, when she finally notices you, one arm around Shadowheart, the other rubbing the back of her neck. You can hear Rolan behind you struggling to put his robe over his shirt and trousers faster.

“Don't worry, we were just checking out.” You can't help but laugh. Normally the situation would be mortifyingly embarrassing but right now your heart feels so light you can't find it in yourself to be anything other than joyful. You grab Rolan's hand as he finishes tightening the last clasp on his robe, and pull him towards the door, grabbing your jacket from the floor on your way out. “Have fun!” You manage to say before the door shuts behind you. The muffled noises you hear from inside the room tell you they definitely were planning on having fun even without your encouragement.

“Well,” Rolan clears his throat, trying to regain the scraps of his dignity. “That's a less-than-ideal ending to our evening. But I'm sure there are many more evenings to come.” It's not a statement, not really. It's a question. And even though he's smiling, you can see a hint of panic and insecurity in his eyes. You grab his hand. It feels so nice to be able to do that.

“Of course. You are not getting rid of me that easily.”

His smile of relief could melt even the coldest heart of stone.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader #baldur's gate rolan #smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut

279 notes · View notes

skzoologist · 5 months

Note

Ok so I have another idea,

So bae is having a bad day and struggling with something, feeling insecure making him feel really stressed and down and he considers harming himself to cope with it thankfully one of the members notice him (Feeling in a minho or chan mood rn so if you could write it as them that would be amazing) and check up on him right before he was about to and stops, him comforting bae

P.S You don't have to write it if you aren't comfortable writing something like this. Ngl I dunno what came over me with this, maybe I am self projecting?

-🐿️

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: self-harm, self-deprecating thoughts

genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: I know I got another ask from a different follower a day ago, but this is just activating my own spidey senses, so this enjoys priority. Also I'm alright writing this, because it touches on a part of Bae's lore that I haven't revealed yet, so don't worry about that. But 🐿️ anon, my sweetie, if you ever really have these thoughts, talk to someone. Anyone. A friend, family, heck, even me or another online person! This isn't a long-term solution, but it can help tremendously. This goes for everyone too: if talking to me or requesting something like this helps, never hesitate to do so! Life is hard and we sometimes need some time and help to recuperate and get back to our feet. There's no shame in it.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

As soon as Bae opened his eyes, he felt the air heavily pressing onto his skin, as if a weight was fused onto the upper layer. His limbs felt sluggish, as if his own blood and bones were cast out of pure steel and misery. The light that successfully seeped through the thick curtains felt too bright, earning a low hiss from the male.

Mornings after a migraine were always hard to bear.

The one he’d had the previous day was particularly harsh, rendering him useless as he’d been just carried away by his bandmates to the dorms in urgency. All schedules’s been cancelled for him immediately, Chan telling him how it was alright, how he should only ever focus on his own health.

It made his stomach churn.

Everyone was working themselves to the point of exhaustion every single day, yet here he was, laying in bed once again, causing inconvenience for everyone. He hated it with every fibre of his being, the feeling seeping deep inside and nestling there.

Yet, Bae put a lock onto the gate this monstrous being hid behind, forcing his limbs to move, the motion cumbersome and difficult. What would have only taken him a few minutes now took ten or twenty, an obscuring fog settling over most of his mind. Nothing felt right, yet he powered through it, refusing to leave out another day of work.

Not even Chan could stop him.

After his morning routine was done and his horribly pale skin was hidden behind makeup, he went out of his room at his own, slow pace, knowing fully well no one else was at the dorms anymore. They were all already at the company, busy with their solo schedules and practices. He himself had to be at a photoshoot in an hour, or at least according to his original, filled out schedule. His hyungs adamantly gave him not only yesterday off, but two other days as well, not leaving him any room for argument.

Little did they know he’d told his own manager to reschedule those two days amidst head-splitting pain and blurry vision. It was an arduous task, but he’d managed.

Once he was down in the lobby and ready to go, his driver was surprised, safe to say, the expression obvious as it sat out onto his face. But he’d been working with Bae for long years now, thus that was the only indication about the idol’s unexpected appearance. No words were exchanged, the two acknowledged the other with a respectful nod and off they were to their destination.

The drive wasn’t long, leaving Bae no time to sink into his thoughts as he watched the scenery fly by through the window. Even the weather was feeling down, the skies grey and melancholic. It felt as if in the next minute the clouds would start weeping, openly pouring their heart out in a silent farewell.

Once the car was parked, he slightly nodded at the driver who was looking back at him, opening the door and stepping out onto still dry pavement. His legs automatically took him into the company, something he was grateful for with his hazy mind. The only thoughts that were coherently formed in there were about his bandmates and how he wished he wouldn’t run into them accidentally. He really didn’t have the energy to hear what they had to say and berate him over not resting.

It seemed like his prayers were heard, nobody noticing him as he was silently walking through the halls, as if he was a ghost tied to them for eternity. The moment the staff saw him enter the room they bowed and greeted him, something he reciprocated silently with a bow of his own.

He was soon whisked away to a chair, his makeup and hair professionally done. Even if the workers noticed the bags under his eyes or his unnaturally pale complexion, none of them acknowledged it, opting to instead silently work away with precise movements.

The different array of powder snugly stuck to his skin, just enough to make him feel like the idol he was supposed to be, not a smidge more. The colours were vibrant, the exact opposite of what he felt like under the mask he’d put up, something that fit his idol self only. His bleached, white hair was gently clipped up, a few chosen strands taken out and purposefully left hanging down, framing his face elegantly. A glint caught his eye, the dangly earring in his left ear catching light and shining brightly.

The man who looked back at him in the mirror felt like someone else.

Tearing his gaze away, he let the stylists choose his outfit and got into position, everyone’s eyes on that stranger who he was supposed to be. With a cold gaze he did his job, perfectly executing everything that was expected of him. Even after the sixth outfit change, the final one, and endless photos taken over the course of hours, his expression remained unchanged, focus solely on the camera that was pointed directly at him.

The way back home felt like a blur to him. Stripped of the branded clothes and sheltering makeup on his face, he felt vulnerable, something those dark, swirling thoughts started taking advantage of. He tried to think of anything else, of food or even a favourite TV show.

None of it worked.

They all circled back to how he shouldn’t be skipping the group’s dance practice, how miserable he looked and how he felt nauseous, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Horrendous scenarios played through his head, worsening with every passing second, each ending with him being forced to leave the group.

He really should cook something. If not for himself, then his bandmates, who no doubt would be hungry by the time they got back to the dorms.

But what if… What if they wouldn’t want to eat it? Why would they? After all, he was someone undeserving of their love, to be in the group, useless with a malfunctioning body. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them finally would have had enough of his constant migraines and the hassle that always came with it, the constant darkness and hushed voices as he was carried away, unmoving.

He also didn’t have an amazingly unique voice like Felix, or dance moves like Minho. Hell, he didn’t even know how to produce music, like 3RACHA.

He was useless.

The knife in his hand glinted, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables. A thought ran through his head, one that would solve all his problems, permanently ending them.

Pale skin drew him in, dark veins peeking through. It felt inviting, as if it somehow grew a mouth itself and called the knife’s name, inescapably alluring.

“Bae?”

His eyes were drawn from the freshly drawn blood, only a few droplets escaping and coating the surface of the blade in a bittersweet vermillion colour. Chan just stood there, frozen, hand stopped midair, no doubt in the process of taking off his bag. Their eyes met, dull ones with pure panic, darting between the knife and Bae’s eyes, as if no matter how hard their owner tried, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The thud of the bag was loud in the heavy silence, unsure footsteps soon following it.

Bae just watched as the older walked towards him, steps wobbly and out of their usual, steady rhythm. Shaking hands reached towards his own ones, gently prying them apart and away from the stained, sharp object.

An even shakier breath left Chan’s lips as he just stood there, still holding the other’s hands in his gentle hold, blood now painting his skin in small rivers. Their eyes couldn’t meet this time, no, the leader’s own gaze focused on their conjoined hands, expression hidden from the younger.

Not a sound could be heard as Bae was led towards the bathroom, Chan’s hands quietly working away on taking care of the fresh wound. Bae similarly didn’t say anything, not even hiss left his lips when the alcohol touched open skin, or when it was finally sealed off, left to heal in peace.

The two remained there for a while, one standing, the other sitting, until the silence was broken by quiet sniffles, the older’s lip wobbling and eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What were you thinking?” - his voice was a broken little thing, as if he himself got hurt by the knife instead of Bae.

The younger stayed silent, numb and unwilling to burden anyone with his worthless thoughts. He didn’t deserve being cared for like this, something the voices whispered to him relentlessly.

“Bae, why did you do it? Do you hate being with us this much?”

His head snapped up from where he was observing the tiles underneath his feet, wide eyes staring into Chan’s tear-filled ones. Those obsidian orbs were filled with sorrow, the usually bright nebulas now hidden in darkness. The sight alone broke something in Bae, as if he was pulled up onto the surface of an alaskan lake from its deep, imprisoning depths.

A sound left the younger’s lips, something that vaguely resembled a word, yet no one could tell. It was quiet, broken, much like the male himself. More soon followed its wake, finally donning the form of a word and adamantly denying Chan’s question with their sole existence. His head shook as tears finally fell down upon shaking hands, ones that were raised in a sad attempt of hiding away. Chan didn’t hesitate to hug the unravelling boy in front of him, his standing form easily engulfing Bae’s small, sitting one.

“Then why?” - the question was careful, as if a single wrong word could shatter Bae into irreparable pieces.

“I don’t feel worthy to be here.” - that was the simple answer he got.

The grip on the younger tightened impossibly, Chan’s form rigid and unbreathing. It prompted Bae to snake his hands further up, clinging onto the fabric there desperately, hold more secure on his hyung. His head was buried in Chan’s stomach, afraid to be seen like this.

“My moonlight, look at me.” - it was a gentle request, one that was accompanied by tender hands, holding onto tear-stained cheeks and leading them out of their hiding.

Thumbs softly swiped the droplets away from underneath dark, confused eyes.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and I’ve been in this demanding industry for longer than anyone should have. There’s a passionate fire burning inside you, one that you never let lose its intensity. Not only do you practise and work relentlessly, you also have amazing talent in everything you do. Your singing is wonderfully soft, perfectly harmonising with anyone you sing with. You know every single one of our dances to the point where if I were to start a song from any point, you would know what dance move goes with it. And you always look amazing, no matter what you wear or do. On top of all that, you never fail to help us or listen to our problems. Never once have you turned us away in all these years.”

Chan’s eyes held a soft light, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. It stole the breath out of Bae’s lungs, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears started forming.

“You can ask any of us, we would only sing your praises. Because they’re true, baby. You might get migraines often, but then what? That doesn’t make you any less of us. You work hard enough already, a little rest won’t take away from that.”

He stopped for a moment, as if a fond memory appeared in front of his eyes.

“Did you know? I love the little snacks you sneak into my bag that I take to the studio with me. I also love the little notes you always give me with it and the silly little drawings on them. I’ve never thrown one out ever since you started giving them to me.”

The look on Chan’s face was entirely too fond, something that Bae couldn’t possibly look at for too long, lest his chest burst into loved pieces. No, hiding into the fabric of his hyung felt better, unwilling to think about the way the man’s lips curved up, dimples peeking through, or the way his eyes were just slightly crinkled, holding the warmth of a star itself even through those crystal droplets.

“You’re loved, Bae. Never forget that.”

#i know it's hard #but there are people who care about you #more than you could ever imagine #stray kids #skz #stray kids oc #skz oc #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #glacial prince #bang chan #request #🐿️ anon #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

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mirror-to-the-past · 11 months

Text

So.... I bolted to the finish line of Dream Drop as I had nothing else to do today.

I am still collecting many thoughts, sentiments, attempts at analysis, etc, as I always do, but this game just had a lot to offer so I'm still weeding through the freshly tilled flowerbed that is my brain at the moment. Holy mother of run-on sentences (you're gonna see a lot of those).

First off, I wanna thank this game for doing so much for Sora and Riku's characters. The inverse development they had through the course of the plot was really interesting to follow, actually, and none of it's out of nowhere!

Since KH1, Sora's had the repression subplot and embracing the strength of others as his own. Here, he tried to do the same, but with everything that's happened to him since, all of which he doesn't even necessarily remember, and all of the emotions and memories he's been touched with and made more and more aware of- he's on shaky ground and the same ol' methods don't fit like they used to! Understandable! And Xehanort/13 Darkness gang just feeds into that. He expands on Sora's questioning of his identity, suggests the lack of validity of his emotions. Everything that could be used to describe Sora in a positive light in wake of what's happened to him, he finds a negative spin on it to really dig at Sora's core:

'You're confused about the direction your life has taken? Hm, wonder how much of you is even real. Your emotions? Memories? Could be fabrications. Or someone else's. Who knows...'

'Your heart is a refuge for lost souls, hoping to find a new future? Nah, screw that. Your heart's a prison. Your very existence binds people, Sora. And of course, you just love holding people back.'

'Aw, you follow where your heart leads? Cute. People's feelings have never led them astray before, huh? Why don't you just keep being a precious little idiot though, it works great for us.'

Xigbar particularly, was brutal as always. Loved the scenes with him and Sora in The World that Never Was. So well crafted. He towers over him, gets all up in Sora's business and you can see how uncomfortable Sora is. He pokes directly at Sora's two biggest insecurities:

Weakness; being incapable and helpless.

Not being wanted/needed, or dragging others down.

He goes on his whole spiel where he specifically highlights how Sora's pretty much leftovers. He acts like he's a good for nothing- "As if the Keyblade would choose a wimp like you." And childish for simply feeling the pain of others: "Oh... thank you, Sora's heart, for pushing him right into our clutches. Aren't hearts great? Steer us wrong every time." (Love that line) And Sora figures out that Nobodies have the capability of essentially learning to gain their own heart (CALLED IT, YES- BUT ALSO 😭 you poor guys. I think every party that could have benefitted either didn't care or didn't figure it out.), only to be further disparaged by Xemnas essentially being like 'Yeah, and then they got manipulated anyway, hah. Just like you.' Just two grown ass men bullying and gaslighting a teenage boy to heighten his insecurities. Because "possession" just seems to be a symbol for one losing themselves.

Xehanort as a character just gives those vibes of an individual who takes, takes, and breaks someone down until they don't feel like themselves anymore, becoming an extension of their manipulator. He preys upon vulnerability and lack of self assurance and it's so good, hah. So, that's the reading I find most appropriate for his thematic relevance, in relation to KH's continuous crisis of what makes up an identity. I mean, just look at how Xehanort describes the others they were considering as a dark vessel- Riku's "immune to the darkness," in other words, immune to obfuscation/has more solid connections. Roxas was considered as too driven, assured in his place in Sora's heart when he forged his own trial-by-fire path. Both people that came to peace with themselves and what they wanted through hardship, one way or another. Now, I'm not saying Sora hasn't felt hardship, but when your theme is "repression," he's up against amnesia, feelings of others encroaching on his own, and a lack of self evaluation. He has more of himself in others, at the moment, and that's leaving him vulnerable.

So, you can only imagine how Sora feels at the game's conclusion, denied a rank of Keyblade Master, those words lingering in his mind as one of the most recent things he's heard, near death(?) experience, and Sora had been filled in I'm sure on how Riku was endangering himself for Sora's sake. I'm sure he feels super great about all that.

(His "What do you want me to see?!" line after Roxas disappeared... haha... I'm well.)

Meanwhile, Riku. His whole arc was the polar opposite! By the end of this game, he was the most self assured than we've seen him the whole series! 🎉 Hooray! At least someone gets to be happy! :'D

But for real, *wow.* Personal quip, I doubt I need to go heavily into the queer connotations of Riku's journey to easier vulnerability and self acceptance, especially in this game, because I'm sure anyone who takes time to read this can probably see it, but wow. The way he learned to change his reflexes and actions throughout the course of the story in a number of small, meaningful ways was so sweet. It was cheesy, sure, but him openly laughing with the other teens in Traverse Town. Him admitting to the nature of his insecurities to help another, and then getting comforted by Esmeralda in return, who assured him it was understandable to have walls around his heart/keep parts of himself separate from the world when he was still unsure and figuring out his feelings (lines that drive me crazy, 2023). Him rolling his eyes at the "All for one and one for all," motto before reflecting on Sora's openness and inclusion, and deciding to give it a try, himself. So many little things where he learned to laugh and reminisce freely and it reminded me of the snippet of how he was when he was younger in BBS, which, speaking of- all those steps towards healthiness made it so that throughout the entire game, unlike CoM, where he fought in darkness with self hate, and Days, where he lost himself completely, he never battled with notable levels of internal darkness to try to win anything. He found his strength to protect the things that matter, like he always wanted, by being himself, unapologetically.

...I wish I played this game in middle school or something. Alas.

(Also Riku Dream Eater theory was a go, boys! Also like how there was no explanation other than *X. Heartless voice* "Yes adopted son of darkness, you were down so bad you changed species to protect Sora from bad dreams as soon as you subconsciously felt suspicious vibes." And that's all we're gonna fucking get, so deal with it *mic drop*. 😂 Was pleasantly surprised Sora's clothes were also plot relevant, and I feel better about disliking them now. They branded him, eugh.)

Speaking of being yourself, but perhaps being too many of yourselves, in this case, here's my obligatory "cries at the endgame" sentiments. This one was less hype than the others, but punched me directly in the heart instead. Oh. My. GOD? That whole sequence of Riku diving into Sora's heart (with all of his memories floating past? Lord I'd be so embarrassed if I was ever in such a situation- it's so personal, y'know?), entering its innermost reaches, answering the questions... holy guacamole guys I think I left a part of me on those sunset beaches, there. That whole scene was a KH1 reference with the questions (I answered in terms of how I best thought Riku would answer), Riku and Xion's sitting placements on the Paopu tree (also Riku saw Xion as Sora *fist pumps in sad success*), and I'm almost *certain,* especially since it was right before "What are you most afraid of" that my theory of Riku overhearing the Sora&Kairi dock convo in the first game was valid. I mean, just look at the dude's face after staring out at the sunset. M'boy Riku looked downright melancholy and I trust KH microexpressions with my life. (And speaking of microexpressions, Sora's smile looked suspiciously forced when congratulating Riku on becoming a Master, poor fella. He was trying so hard to be a good sport about everything with that messy situation.)

Dream Drop Distance did so much with how we're finally having all of the separate plot points converge and it was so surprisingly satisfying. Sora seems to be picking up more about Naminé, he's aware of Xion and is trying to figure out who she is. Roxas seems to be losing himself or doubting who he is outside Sora and aaaahh?? No?! My beautiful boy, don't do this, we'll get you out! I miss Axel, but we've got Lea, who keeps getting deadnamed (he got chosen as a Wielder by the universe for his troubles). I want to see more of Ienzo, he endears me, especially when he's told "shut up nerd" by Lea. Foreshadowing about Ventus (when he smiled upon feeling Sora's happiness with the Dream Eaters post-credits, something got me in my core about imagining Ventus experiencing all of Sora's joys and hurts while he grew up. I wonder if he'll feel any affection for Sora's friends as if they were his own, as well.). We finally got Ansem's data he implanted within Sora. Kairi is being brought back into the plot since KH2!! HYPE! *On my hands and knees*

Anyway this game was good. I probably have more to say because there was just so much but yeah.

Edit: Almost forgot the thing I groaned at my TV for earlier! ^_^

*ahem*

They composed a Heartsong and each of their hearts play a piece of a Duet version of Dearly Beloved, which is the Title Theme for the Entire Franchise, and Definitely Doesn't have any romantic connotations as a phrase or anything. Also they Definitely do not have a Two-Part-One-Whole Keyblade that isn't (so far, I'll catch up) explained, and is a phenomena not previously noted throughout the games, that has a Paopu Fruit hanging off the end.

Man, all this stuff tuckers an epic gamer out. Think I'll go replay Hades, Stardew Valley, Undertale/Deltarune as a break, considerably less gay games. (Har, har)

#kingdom hearts #dream drop distance first playthrough #dream drop distance #kh ddd #kh riku #riku #kh sora #sora #xehanort #happy pride to sora and riku I guess #what a month to first play ddd in

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anfie-in-the-box · 1 year

Text

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

Yeah, I'm a mess and have decided to write both prompts for each day of Dark Cream Week. Is it crazy? Yes, especially since I write rather slowly and with lots of difficulties and insecurities. Does it work out? It does, kinda. Did I manage? Who knows! Definitely not present-me, not yet, it's still a bit before the actual Week when I'm making this post. It's okay though, even if I end up not finishing. It's way more than what I've written for events before this one, so it's a win anyway! I am quite proud of myself.

No real spoilers for Turns, twists, and paradoxes, but feel free to skip my works for Dark Cream Week if you prefer reading the main piece chronologically!

。。。

Sacrifice

To survive, Dream sacrifices parts of himself. His kindness. His helpfulness. His understanding. His empathy. Everything he used to be goes away, forming something new. He's not sure what yet. It's dark, heavy with the burden of the entire world, bent on revenge for all the unfairness in the Multiverse, and in so much pain it wants the others to feel it too. Dream never knew he could be so cruel and wish others harm, but the curse changes him, bending and twisting but never breaking. Dream can't let himself break. Can't let the curse win. So he fights, choosing the lesser evil, being evil to everyone but his family. His loved ones.

Dream keeps the balance within himself, feeding his soul shattered positive feelings of thousands of humans and monsters he doesn't know yet never hurting those who truly matter. It's a fickle process, but Dream manages. He's hurt Cross enough before meeting Nightmare in that clever illusion of his. He failed to support his brother before everything started. Nevermore. Not if he can help it.

"Dream?" He startles at Cross' voice so near. Dream didn't notice him coming closer. "Are you okay?"

Dream smiles slightly, "I am. Just lost in thought."

"Whatever about?"

"How atrocious the world has been to all of us, mostly." Dream finds Cross' hand and caresses it gently with his. Cross smiles at him, content and peaceful, at least as much as even possible. "Never gets old, that. We were all good in our own ways and look what it's done to us. I've never hurt in return, despite the way I was abused my whole life, and what good did it do to me?" he pauses, then confesses, "It's so nice to be angry. So freeing. I've always tried to stay positive and bring light to everyone in need; I never let myself properly experience negative emotions, and only now I realise how unhealthy it was. I was miserable and in denial, and now that nothing stops me anymore…" Dream trails off, at a loss of words.

"It's okay if you don't know how to express yourself," Cross reassures, taking both Dream's hands in his. "It's also okay to be angry. You have every right to feel whatever emotion you feel at the moment. You're a person, not a perfect angel, and that's okay, too. I'm just sorry I never saw the pressure you were under before," he says quietly. "I'm sorry you felt like this was the only way."

Dream frees one of his hands and pets Cross' cheek, so very gently. "I forgive you." There's undeniable fondness in his voice, but also sadness. Dream's sorry, too. But that's exactly how unfair the world has been to them. That's exactly his point. They tried so hard, and it didn't change anything. There was no happy ending. But maybe there will be. Dream hopes.

Oh, how he hopes.

So maybe he's not sacrificing his old self after all. Maybe he's just hiding it deep inside, only for his loved ones to see. He's still different, even with them; he's sharper, tougher, more resolute. But that's alright. Because…

"I love you," Cross whispers.

Yeah. That's why.

"I love you too."

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream!Sans © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery /shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

。。。

Notes

I love how different it is from Egoism, its dual piece. Dream is steadier here, more certain, although he still has a long way to go. It's really interesting to observe.

#anfie writes #x-tra dark cream fic #dark cream week #dark cream #shattered!dream #cross!sans #utmv

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twistedsongstressofstarz · 5 months

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🔗Gehenna Astremia || 🪞Phennel Astremia

(Picrew izn't v accurate, but i don't have time to draw em rn)

Name : Gehenna and Phennel Astremia

Nicknames: Henna (general nickname), Hen-hen (Zen @/rosietrace) | Phenny (general nickname), Phen-phen (Zen), Not-henna (Irina, because she still doesn't know hiz name)

Age : 17-ish

Height : 5'7

Homeland : Briar Valley

Birthday : 07/24

Species : Half-Fae

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••General••⟭

Hair Color : Polished Pine (why iz that a name-)

Eye Color : Silver Sand (what are these namez-)

Gender : Female | Male

Sexuality : Questioning | Unlabeled (but likes anyone of any gender)

Family : Each other, Unnamed Mother, Unnamed Aunt, Karchile Chocolat (Cousin), Unnamed Grandparents,

Favorite Food : Cheese, Ham | Crab, Ham

Least Favorite Food : Crab | Cheese

Likes : Crystals, Peaceful Places | Classical Music, Being Alone

Dislikes : Being Disturbed, Crystals Going Missing | Being Mistaken for Gehenna (unless on purpose)

Hobbies : Collecting Crystals | Playing Violin, Voice Acting

Personality : Gehenna is described as calm, yet cold. She doesn't seem to care that much for anything, except for her own reputation in school. She struggles with her emotions, and does not know how to show them properly. You'd expect her to act differently with family, but she doesn't. Karchile notably dislikes how serious she is and tries to liven her up to no avail. Phennel just wants the both of them to be happy.| Despite being her identical twin, Phennel is the complete opposite of Gehenna. He is shy, and unlike Gehanna, who simply doesn't show her emtions due to just not knowing how, Phennel simply has trouble doing so. As much as he wants to, this was a constant thing for him. Due to how the twins were raised, he often thinks of himself as less then Gehenna and struggles with his self-esteem due to that.

Occupation : Student, Heir | Student (Also Backup Heir)

Twisted from : Gehenna -Wotaku | Phony -Tsumiki

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••School Information••⟭

Dorm : Diasomnia

School Year : 2nd

Class : 2-D | 2-E

Best Subject : Everything except PE | Animal Linguistics

Worst Subject : PE | Ancient Magic

Club : None | Board Game Club

Dominant Hand : Left

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Unique Magic••⟭

I'm sorry I deceived you… I'm sorry I couldn't tell you… And this is so sad..

But suffering is our only bond.

With her unique magic, Gehenna has the ability to transfer her feelings of anguish and inferiority onto the person she used it on by physical contact. It renders the person vulnerable, feeding on their insecurities as the sadness slowly consumes them. Can only be used when Gehenna's feelings are at an extreme, and is hard to snap the affected out of.

—————————

Entangled into a web of lies, I am a Phony

With this Unique Magic, Phennel has the ability to mimic anyone's voice as long as he has heard the person before. He only uses it in dire situations, however.

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Backstory••⟭

When you are a child of nobility, anything should be expected. And if you are twins born half-human in the Briar Valley of all places, you should be expecting your life to be not so great. The thing about Phennel and Gehenna was that they weren’t. One moment they had been normal yet well-mannered kids and the next…

Gehenna’s Side

Phennel’s Side (wip)

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Trivia••⟭

Phennel wants to get into voice acting professionally, but he doesn't think he can

They both got their UMs on the same day

The oc of mine Phennel gets along with the most is Gammon, he thinks the other is pretty cool

The oc of mine Gehenna gets along with the most is Mio, she appreciates how quiet she is and seems to enjoy her company

#☆~songstress' oc friendz #☆~ gehenna #☆~ phennel #Gehenna Astremia #Phennel Astremia #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #diasomnia oc #diasomnia

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adenei · 10 months

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Invisible

Even though this one wasn't assigned to me, I still had an idea for it and decided to write it!

Romione, inspired by Invisible from Taylor Swift's Debut album

Read on Ao3

Dear Diary,

It’s been three days since I arrived at the Burrow for the remainder of summer, and it’s lovely as always. Well, mostly lovely. I’m probably overreacting and letting my emotions get the better of me, but I suppose that’s what this is for, right? To write down all my insecurities so I can forget them and go about my days as though I don’t have a care in the world?

Ha. If only that were true. Being Harry Potter’s best friend makes that a little complicated. Well, that paired with me being a Muggleborn and therefore placing a nice, big target on my back…

But that’s not what this entry is supposed to be about. It’s about…well…I feel like Ron’s been ignoring me since I got here.

It’s so odd. He’s never acted like this before. He’s one of my best friends and the person I’m closest to and—I’m probably just being silly. After all, he’s the one who invited me. But it just seems…I don’t know.

My days here have been spent mostly with Ginny. Whether we’re relaxing in her room or helping Mrs. Weasley with chores, Ron’s rarely around. He usually joins us when we’re spending the afternoons outside under the shade of my favorite willow tree on the property, but not for very long. To be honest, I thought I’d be spending more time with him, especially in the evenings with him in his room.

Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like—okay, maybe I did. But only a little. Alright, alright, I was holding a lot of hope out for that. But not just for THAT! Only because I may be unequivocally, hopelessly, in love with him and want to be alone so he could kiss me…if he wanted to, that is.

I need to get a grip. I blame all of last year. We’ve been growing closer and that clearly hasn’t helped this stupid crush either. Spending extra time together on Prefect rounds or when Harry was in detention (which was A LOT) kept making my heart do all of these silly flip flops. Not to mention any time our hands would accidentally brush and I’d all but stop breathing while hoping he’d casually lace his fingers with mine.

Of course, that never happened. Because as I’ve been spiraling deeper and deeper into these ridiculously strong feelings for him, he sees me as nothing more than a friend.

Maybe less than a friend now…

It’s not me, though. I know it’s not. It’s her. It has to be her. Fleur Delacour. Ugh. Why did she have to come stay for the summer too? Can’t she find her own place? I don’t understand.

I mean, I guess I do, but still. When Ginny owled to tell me Fleur and Bill were engaged, I dropped the letter in shock. It just seemed so…sudden. And instead of them getting their own place, she’s staying at the Burrow? Even when Mrs. Weasley clearly can’t stand her?

And she doesn’t take the hint either! She simply glides around the place, making faces when she’s expected to help out, criticizing the food as ‘too fattening’, and turning on her stupid Veela charm.

Come on. She’s already found her Weasley, so what’s she doing it for? The power trip? To feel good about herself? Yes, because having a sixteen year old drooling over you is whatever every of-age witch wants. Ugh. Ron’s been spending all day, every day trying to impress her and get her to notice him that he’s not even giving me, his FRIEND THAT HE INVITED TO STAY AT HIS HOUSE, the time of day.

Even right now, he’s outside feeding the chickens, and she just came out to hang up her wash and he just stopped what he’s doing to stare at her. Oh, good. It looks like a chicken just bit him. He deserves it.

…Am I that mediocre? Do I truly mean that little to him?

I’m the one who’s been by his side the last five years. I could tell you just how bright his eyes shine when he starts talking about the Chudley Cannons or when he has every move figured out to win at a game of Wizard’s Chess. He’s incredible, and sometimes I don’t think he realizes just how special he is.

But how am I supposed to show him how remarkable he is? What can I do to open his eyes and see that I’m here, right in front of him! But noooo, I’m invisible, hidden by the shadows of Veela charm.

Here I was, thinking we could really be something. Dreams of becoming that Prefect power couple everyone talks about. How cute that two best friends fell in love and lived happily ever after.

Merlin help me. What am I becoming? Do you see what he’s doing to me? Ugh, I sound like Lavender and Parvati. Love sick and hopeless…What happened to sensible Hermione? The one who’s too smart to play wishful thinking.

Yet…

Would it be too much for him to notice me and not her? To let me love him, let me want him?

#romione #hbp #ron x hermione #hermione granger #ron weasley #ron weasley x hermione granger #hp fanfic

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funkylittledemon · 26 days

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autism and emotions is so.... well it fucking sucks is what it is. i need my mind to slow down for a second to get all these thoughts down bc i will explode if i dont get them out there (hence why this post - only bee is gonna see this & knows me enough to be worried for more than an hour or so and if i put this where nobody can see it aint actually out there) (wassup bee dw i am okay)

anyway

i say that life is just getting to me rn and it is but thats too vague a statement. current affairs (an impartial term but a useful one here) are getting to me - I'm trying to navigate adulthood while it feels like the life i was promised is being taken away by whatever event you want to pick; global warming, late-stage capitalism, multiple genocides, the list goes on. and I'm one of the lucky ones!! how fucked up is that! so there's that constant stress hanging above my head.

then there's more abstract life: navigating uni and living alone and looking after myself while forming relationships and starting to try carve a path for myself. this one isn't as bad but still can't be ignored and the fact that interpersonal relationships have become so scrutinised through social media doesn't help. no matter the insecurity you have or your own specific factors there will be someone online telling you your worst fears are right - i cant say how many times ive scrolled past a reel saying that i havent had a message back because "he" doesn't care. does the person saying this even know I've seen it, let alone who i am or who "he" is? No!! but the sentiment sticks with you despite only seeing it for 3 seconds before scrolling on, despite logically knowing it can't apply to me because its a catch-all statement to everyone who feels insecure pushed onto us by an algorithm that thinks we want to hear that. social media is feeding into our fears and insecurities and we can't stop it. as an autistic person whos insecure as fuck and who knows they dont understand a lot of societal cues being told by some random person that im right to be insecure really doesn't help - i get the idea of something stuck in my head and bc i know its bs i try get it out which cements it further into my mind and lends it credence.

then there's uni itself - i am now faced with the realisation that everything leading me up to uni and my course has been about me helping other people, often to my own detriment. i chose a counselling course because i was always the therapist friend, the one who everyone else went to for help. and wouldn't you know it I've been burnt out for years and literally don't have it in me to help strangers, or give a shit about their lives. i cared so much and made my entire life about helping other people that i had no idea what i wanted to do. im switching to just psychology now, because it is interesting and i do enjoy it but im kind of lost now i dont have that purpose. it also scares me just how much of my life hadn't been about me at all and im still not sure who i am if im not helping someone. obviously thats the dramatic version but you get the gist. uni's been a wakeup call i wasn't prepared for and theres the work and exams on top of that

christ this is long. okay. what else was there. emotions. god i hate emotions. this is the hard bit. all my emotions are so so big and i am so so small and it feels like they would devour me whole if they could. anxiety is a big one. recently pretty much all ive been feeling is anxiety - a deep anxiety that makes me nauseous pretty much 24/7. last week on friday i had what i call a breakdown. i still dont understand it (which is scary enough - every other breakdown i can disect and point to the cause). i just sarted screaming in the middle of the street and couldn't stop and its making me anxious just typing this up. then there was a day of panic attack after panic attack (lost count after the 4th i think) and then a few days later and some bad decisions (booze. ik i shouldn't have drank but i thought i was ok to drink) i had another breakdown. i dont remember much of this one but it ended in me being locked out and sobbing - security had to let me in and it must've been bad bc the guy gave me a card with hotlines on it. (again, i am okay). i lost my leather jacket that night which both sucks bc i loved that jacket and also the fact that it's gone is a constant reminder of something im ashamed of. after that it was just this constant nauseating anxiety, occasionally spiralling into something more but not significant enough to include. the thing about me and emotions is that my strategy for dealing with them is to ignore and repress them until they're not my problem anymore. which is bad. but idk how to cope with them healthily and when i feel okay i never know if its because i repressed them again or because i genuinely feel okay. being around other people helps but thats probably not a great thing - i hide my emotions from other people to avoid being a burden. not that its always a bad thing that my friends make me feel better its just not a sustainable approach to constantly avoid being alone. i have this constant struggle of feeling emotions so intensely then feeling shame because of how intensely i felt those emotions or how they made me act.

going on from emotions fucking me over and moving on from Life being an issue anxiety is a fucking bitch. all my life I've felt like an outsider and so constantly nervous about everything. it was hell and then in 6th form i made friends who were so so confident and i finally started to relax a little bit more and not feel bad about taking up space. uni was even better! i had flatmates i loved and i was going out doing things I'd never dreamed of and i was making friends!! i barely recognised myself and i loved it!! then the breakdown happened and i was plunged headfirst back into the old cycle of anxiety and going back to that after feeling what life could be like? that was worse than the breakdown. it feels like ive never felt worse and the knowledge that theres no reason for it, that nothing had actually changed other than me and i could still be out there with confidence but i wasn't was such a crushing feeling it felt like i was never gonna feel okay again. dramatic i know but the truth.

im home for easter break now and typing this out has helped and going back to my old stomping grounds has shown me i have still changed and i do still have the confidence even if i couldn't access it for a hot min. I'm still anxious but thats okay. my emotions don't have an all poweful spell over me and anxiety can suck my dick. there's still the fear that I'll go back to uni and it'll all come rushing back however im just gonna see how this break goes. im gonna be alone whether i like it or not while im down here and if i can manage to be okay with that then I'll be fine. and i do have a support system both here and up at university.

#life updates with fish #vent post #ig #honestly i might not be okay but that's alright. i dont have to be okay and i don't have to be ashamed #im doing better than i was though #but every time i type that the anxiety returns so probably not actually its just more managable #long post #fuck me this was longer than i thought it was gonna be #oops oh well

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aajjks · 2 months

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You continue your day as you remember what Jungkook said about ice cream, you are really craving that ice cream. You feel bad for worrying your teammates and guard, but he isn’t your guard if he doesn’t take care of the group.

You love your group to pieces and would die for them because they made your childhood wonderful. You have been in the group since you were twelve years old. You always wore you hair up even when going to bed, and when the camera is on you you can’t help be shy and acknowledging that you are awkward. Even on the stage you wear baggy clothes, you always make sure everyone else gets the spot light even when you all where doing shows and interviews. You also would hide some of your features that people picked on you about when you were in school, which were your big lips, freckles, and heterochromia, and that is just some of the features you hide. You look in the mirror and sigh as you touch up on your makeup feeling a bit hideous with yourself. Someday you hope to find the courage to not be so insecure but right now you are busy with this comeback.

So when he asked you if you wanted ice cream you asked him to bring everyone some ice cream. Your group mates start to talk among themselves while you go to the bathroom.

Chaeyoung asks Jiah “Hey, do you ever notice Jungkook being extra nice to Y/n? I am going insane, because I have noticed him calling her sweetheart.”

Jiah looks at her and says to her face “Unnie, you are not going insane. I ship them myself but Y/n is a bit dense when it comes to relationship stuff. I asked her if she noticed that Mr. Jeon likes her and she shook her head telling me that we are his responsibility and we can not date our staffs.”

Miso comes and asks “Unnies whatcha talking about? I heard y’all talking about Mr. Jeon Sunbaenim and I have a little crush on him but I understand that he likes our hardworking maknae. I wonder who Y/N’s crush is?”

You got done going to the bathroom and look at your group whispering on making bets on each other or something like that. You do not know what’s going on until Jungkook comes with tubs of ice cream.

Everyone screams in excitement and they rush over to get some ice cream. You start giggling because you thought your group was lovely and goofy at that moment.

-🐣

Everyone is having fun and eating away the ice cream but he’s busy staring at you and you’re gorgeous, without any make up.

He cannot help but stare at you because you are definitely magical and hypnotizing, “ahh no yn Thanks.” he replies to you after you offer him some of the ice cream but he’s not really an ice cream guy

Unless you feed him with your own hands.

But you won’t do that, so… jungkook hang out with you and your girls and honestly he’s really uncomfortable around other girls-you make him feel at ease.

Your presence is really comfortable and important to him.

After you’re all done with the ice cream, you all with your practice, he watches in awe as you dance, and guide the girls.

You are a born superstar and he’s your biggest fan.

“Wow yn you did great.” He Praises you clapping. Of course, he’s in the practice room because of the circumstances that took place last night and he is Away from you, but still he can see you clearly.

He’s so proud of you.

“all of you girls did great.” He says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck when he realizes that he only praised you.

#🐣 anon

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fahrni · 5 months

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Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

For those who celebrate Christmas I hope you’ve completed your shopping and can enjoy your time reading blogs today or enjoy some other non day job activity. 😃

Dave Nemetz • TVLine

Andre Braugher, Star of Homicide and Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Dead at 61

This was devastating to me. I’ve liked Andre Braugher since I saw him for the first time on Homicide: Life on the Street. Such a loss.

RIP.

Raymond Chen • The Old New Thing

The x86 instruction set has an ENTER instruction which builds a stack frame. It is almost always used with a zero as the second parameter.

Raymond Chen is one of the best development reads in the world. He’s so smart and can write to boot. He also has great stories to share. I recommend you point your RSS reader at The Old New Thing at Microsoft and enjoy.

Jose Munoz

I’ve used RSS for news and blogs since Google Reader days. I go through my feeds with Reeder on my iPad mini every morning. It’s my favorite time of day. While I’ve been extremely happy for years with Reeder as my RSS reading app, I’ve faced issues with their Reeder Feeds iCloud service.

iCloud sync is a thorn in the side of almost every developer who uses it. It slow to sync and sometimes requires logging out entirely to get it to work. Little indie companies do a better job running services than Apple. Sure, sure, Apple are doing it at huge scale, but so do Amazon, Facebook, Microsoft, and Google and I don’t hear about issues like this as often.

It’s really too bad modern software has an expectation of a backing service to make it work properly because a backing service is super expensive to operate. I can’t provide my own sync because I can’t pay hundreds of dollars a month to run a sync service for Stream. I only make a few bucks a month on Stream. And by a few I mean less than $20/month. That’s OK because I chose to make a simple app that isn’t updated often and chose to give it away. But, I feel for those little undies who spend so much to keep services up and running only to just scrape by or lose money.

Chance Miller, Zac Hall, and Michael Potuck • 9to5Mac

Last week, Beeper Mini debuted as a way to bring iMessage to Android, without having to hand over your Apple ID credentials. A few days later, Apple made a change that stopped Beeper Mini from working – and it promised to continue doing so.

Not surprising.

<rob.crabapples.net/uploads/2…>

Sarah Perez • TechCrunch

U.S. Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) is throwing her weight behind Beeper, the app that allowed Android users to message iPhone users via iMessage, until Apple shut it down. Warren, an advocate for stricter antitrust enforcement, posted her support for Beeper on X (formerly Twitter) and questioned why Apple would restrict a competitor. The post indicates Apple’s move has now caught the attention of legislators, who are in a position to regulate Big Tech through policymaking.

Sorry, Senator. Goodness knows I love you, I really do, but I disagree with you on this. Apple is a publicly traded company who created a secure service for users of their devices. We pay for it with our purchase of Apple hardware and other services. It shouldn’t be seen as a free public utility.

The Beeper folks did an amazing job reverse engineering Messages so they could do what they did but it’s essentially hacking a service. Of course Apple is going to shut that down.

What should Apple do? That’s an easy answer for me. They should staff up an Android team and write a native Android app version of Messages. Then charge a monthly service fee for it. Problem solved! You’re welcome!

Something I often wonder. Are Apple’s services so bad/insecure that they mask it by not opening them up? I kind of doubt that but it always pops into my head when I read something about one of their services.

FeedLand

I am lobbying everyone I know to add great feed support to social media systems, so we can get out of the mode of dominant platforms before Threads becomes the dominant platform.

I must admit I didn’t understand what FeedLand is all about, but know I think I get it, maybe. 😃

Ultimately it’s an RSS aggregator. But I do get what Dave is trying to do beyond FeedLand.

Using RSS to follow a social site like Madtodon, Threads, or Bluesky would be amazing. RSS is mature, extensible, and stable.

I follow a few Mastodon feeds using Mastodon’s incredible RSS support, but it could go even further.

Imagine if all social networks supported RSS publishing. We could then use our reader of choice to casually browse our aggregated feeds. I know of a nice little iOS App that presents feeds as a timeline, check it out. 😃

Sorry, had to get that self plug in there.

What if social networks went the next step? What if I could set up a social network to read an RSS feed? Then I could write in one spot and publish to many/all using just RSS. That would be amazing.

To go one step further the social network could support weblog ping so the social network would know you’ve made an update.

Prior to social networks we had all of this in the blogging world. Dave Winer did all of it. He did RSS as well as weblogs ping. It worked really well. He even had Weblogs.com (don’t go there now, it’s a spammy site) which would display the latest sites with updates. If you’ve ever used Blo.gs you’ve seen weblog ping in action. You can even check out my ancient C++ command line implementation of weblog ping. 😂

Anyway. RSS in and out of social networks + weblog ping could be a nice open API for any social network without the need for someone to write code to call an API.

Alyssa Place • benefitnews.com

Employees' traditional view of retirement is changing. It’s time for employers to embrace that, too.

I asked WillowTree HR. A couple years back if we had any kind of plan for part time work and we don’t. I’d like to see that happen because, quite honestly, I can’t really retire. But I do hope to slow down when I hit 70 to enjoy what time I’ll have left, hopefully I live long enough to see a partial retirement.

I suspect the type of business we’re in doesn’t work well with part-time workers. It’s all about billing those hours, which is the worst possible business to be in.

Product and Services are still king. Anything you can upgrade and make money from while doing the next version is so much better than the hourly hamster wheel. 🐹

Robb Knight

Threads started to test ActivityPub integration this week and the fediverse is losing it’s collective mind going into overdrive to block them in any way possible so they can’t grab all your data. Here’s the fun part: they can already do that and they definitely don’t need ActivityPub to do that.

There has been a lot of fear surrounding Threads integrating ActivityPub. I had my doubts at one time but as long as they remain good citizens I don’t have a problem with it

Sarah Perez • TechCrunch

Despite delays, the plan to connect Tumblr’s blogging site to the wider world of decentralized social media, also known as the “fediverse,” is still on, it seems.

I think this is good news. Overall Tumblr feels like it fits into the Fediverse better than Wordpress and I hope they’re able to get it there.

Leo Laporte • twit.tv

Unfortunately, our medium, podcasting, has suffered economically since the beginning of Covid. As the number of podcasts grew exponentially, the number of advertisers dwindled, and with it, our revenue. At one time, we had as many as 30 people on the TWiT staff, not including show hosts, producing more than 30 unique shows. Today, the staff is half that size, and we produce half the number of shows.

Every indie podcast I listen to seems to be pushing subscriptions a lot harder than before. The entire market is in a downturn for free shows. Seeing TWiT layoff a bunch of longtime staff and cut shows is surprising and sad.

Mustapha Hamoui • platformer.news

Late Monday, the jury deliberating in Epic Games’ lawsuit against Google ruled in favor of the Fortnite developer. It found that Google harmed Epic by creating a monopoly in in-app billing and app distribution within the Android ecosystem, illegally tying the app store and its billing system together. A series of revenue-sharing deals with developers and device manufacturers were also found to harm competition.

I admit I don’t know how it is Google is found guilty of having an App Store monopoly and Apple isn’t. The law is strange and understanding eludes me at times.⚖️

Will Shanklin • Engadget

Etsy is the latest company to lay off staff in 2023. CEO Josh Silverman confirmed the marketplace is letting go of 11 percent of its staff (around 225 employees) in its first significant staffing cut in recent years. It’s also reshuffling its leadership, including announcing two executives’ departures at the beginning of 2024.

2023 has been such a crummy year in so many ways but all the tech layoffs scare the crap out of me. I still worry about being laid off and hope the new year doesn’t continue the trend we’ve seen in 2023. 😔

John Scalzi

Abandoning the Former Twitter: A Four-Week Check-In

I’m a fan of John Scalzi’s writing and have many of his book, most unread at the time of this publishing. Not only does he write books he also has a very active blog and social media presence. I loved following him on Twitter and now I love following him on Mastodon. You can too!

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sorry-ghost · 5 months

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I should tell you I loved you more than the breath could hold in my chest and that I loved you more than I've ever loved any woman or man and I was willing to marry you and not as a joke

it's over and it's been over and you have a family now, two children born from a poison mother feeding them toxins in the womb and still you love and care for them as if they were your own, birthed from your own. I cannot ever fault you for helping to maybe save these children from a perma-victim birth giver, oh the nerves in their arms are damaged from abuse, they were so tarnished. so were you and I. Abuse doesn't make you special, it necessitates help, and not that of a lover but a professional.

I wish I could tell you I see it clearly now. what he did to you was rape. I was in denial because he did the same to me repeatedly, even publicly, but he said he loved me. brainwashed, insecure, I could have healed for you, healed with you, but it took too long for me to realize and by that time you chose the mother over me. them. the. children. I cannot be angry if it's for child safety, but my heart is still broken.

I have moved on. traditional roles, a man who is kind and gentle who will likely want me as a wife someday. I think im a lesbian, still, mostly.

I still miss you so deeply it hurts my soul. I dream of you every night, our laughter, our kisses, our escapades. holding hands in front of the giant chairs stacked statue, laughing in prismacolor as we made love beneath the shimmer of your fairy lights. My nightly escapades with you are now my nightmares, knowing how beautiful we had it and how we threw each other away.

my guilt eats me alive. you meant everything to me. I love you still, and I hate that. I want you to be successful, to be happy, to find joy. I am so scared you won't, hindered by dead weight youve complained so much about to me. they don't care for their kids, themself, the dishes, lied and snuck an abuser into your home and sroll wormed their way back into your graces. I could have intervened sooner. I could have done so much more. I never stopped loving you, Mia, and I don't think I ever will. only time will dull the ache you've left in my chest, even if slowly. painfully. slowly. it's been over a year, and I cry still over you. I love another and still, I cry over you, still. I think I always will.

I wish I wasn't a joke to you. a false commitment, a side project to a fixer upper person and a man you met a day ago. You were far from perfect, as was I, but the love you gave me was something I had never experienced prior and since. Love was deserved, not earned.

outside of you alone, I've had to earn love. to fight to show my worth, desperate to be told I am allowed to take up space in a room or in a heart.

I wish we had fallen in love differently. I dreamed of taking you as my wife so many times. I wrote my wish on a tanabata, perhaps it backfired. My heart lingers with you still, and you have moved on. I am happy for you, sad for myself.

when you reached out to me last there was nothing left to say. I knew you made your decision. the children, of course. I could not compete nor would I want to with the safety of babies.

I had so much more to say, but you had enough on your hands, and I was the only one with a therapist.

do you know that our mutual ex raped me again? and again? after all had ended? and once more after we last spoke? no. threats and pushing me to attempt once more on my life, but the water refused to stsy in my lungs and the cuts were too shallow. i glued myself shut thst night and passed out on the bathroom floor. I moved. I changed studios, more than once. a dramatic walkout, a big thing of it. moving, again. that was a big deal. I lost friends. countless. well, I could count but it would be painful. single digits remain. loyal, but I am empty.

I hear your songs about me. I write my poems about you. you are marked forever by me, ink in your skin. and yours in mine.

I wish there were no damn kids involved. I'd have loved you for the rest of my life if you hadn't gotten mixed up with that mess.

I miss you earnestly. every day. I hate that you were stolen from me by differing ideals. I would not be a fixture in a child's life that has no relation to me, especially considering the circumstances.

maybe one day I will find a love like you again. maybe you will achieve your joy.

we destroyed each other in the names of bullshit.

I am teetering on the edge and I couldn't take a response that isn't positive, so I won't say anything at all. I'm dangerously close to stupid decisions. I drink to forget and only remember. I cut to numb but only burn.

be it the discord, the romance we had blackened by the heat death of our scorching fire, I am yet still so glad you are alive. Please. Stay with us.

I hate it, but I love you still. Beyond words, I love you.

#obviously im drunk and sobbing #i mjss her so mhch

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mikempmotivates · 7 months

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Don't Let It Sabotage Your Goals

It’s Halloween season - do you like scary movies?

The most popular scary movie franchise of the last ten years is based on the Stephen King’s thriller “It”. The movies revolve around a monster who feeds on the fears, doubts, and hopelessness of individuals. While many people associate It with a clown, the monster is actually faceless, morphing into whatever fear or insecurity someone is facing. “It” toys with people’s emotions, handcuffing them with fear and self-doubt, questioning if they are trapped in doom for the rest of their lives.

Sound familiar?

Many of us have dealt with “It” in our own personal and professional life. “It” can take the shape of a person; your boss, co-worker, family member, or acquaintance. Maybe “It” takes the shape of a goal; buying a home, completing college, work promotion, or being able to retire. In extreme cases, “It” can even be the face of your lifestyle; your business, health, or relationship. We frequently encounter situations where we face fear and doubt, and when things don’t initially go our way, a sense of hopelessness.

How can we defeat the monster? Like anything that lives and breaths, the monster can only survive if you feed it. You need to starve the monster in order to defeat it. One of my favorite books on positivity is “The Energy Bus” by Jon Gordon. In the book he describes there are two dogs inside of us; a positive and negative dogs. Both dogs are fighting for survival, and the one that wins is the one who gets fed the most. Gordon tells us to feed the positive dog, thus starving the negative dog. Keep the scary movies on the screen, not in your life.

I am a firm believer in self-fulfilled prophecies. I believe we get the things on which we focus and pour our energy. Success doesn't happen by accident. Achieving your goal is a result of effort and persistence. You need to consistently focus on and perform certain behaviors which lead you towards your goal. If that’s true of success, then it is also true of failure. If you focus on things going wrong, they are likely going to go wrong. If you focus on failing, you’re going to find a way to fail. Let me repeat that, you’re going to find a way to fail.

That’s why we tell people afraid of heights who find themselves up high in the air to not look down. You see, the fear isn’t necessarily the height itself, it's the potential of falling. Once the individual looks down, the potential of falling moves to the front of his or her mind. The individual starts to focus on the ground, and almost immediately will think about all the ways he or she could lose their footing and slip and fall.

People who focus on success won’t stop until they’ve found a way to succeed, the same way people who focus on failure won’t stop until they’ve found a way to fail. Focus on success. If you encounter setbacks along the way, consider them to be learning opportunities on what to improve on next time. You deserve the success you desire; just focus on what you are doing to move in the right direction. Let “It” feed on somebody else.

#goals #success #self-limiting beliefs #halloween #it

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loveforpreserumsteve · 1 year

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Most Likely (high school reunion Stucky fic)

Four:

"Look," Steve scoffed, showing off his speed and agility by running around Sam, "I'm literally running circles around you."

"Man, if you don't shut the hell up, imma shut you the hell up," Sam panted.

Steve just laughed and fell in step beside the other man. Their run was almost done and then they could relax. Or, at least, they could try to relax. And by, 'they,' it was Steve. He just felt... off... without the kids.

The kids had always been his favorite part of his day and were definitely what he adored the most from his marriage with Peggy. He – like they had agreed – was a stay at home father. And for eight years he was a stay at home father until he and Peggy finally decided to do the mature thing and call it quits.

For anyone to see, it was obvious that Steve was the more hands-on parent. Waking them up in the morning. Getting them around for school. Packing lunches made with extra love and individual notes wishing the kids a good day. Dropping them off at school before he got ready for his own students to arrive. Then, he would pick them up, take them to soccer or tee-ball or ballet or whatever else their little hearts desired. Making sure that they ate a relatively healthy meal, did their homework, and then tuck them into bed.

Of course, none of that was to say Peggy wasn't a good mother or that she didn't love their kids. Because she did. She loved them so much! But Peggy's first love would always be her career, and Steve didn't fault her for that. He was the one who wanted to be a father, and they both knew their stances going into their marriage.

And Steve knew that – like him – Peggy would take on an entire army for their kids. Their kids knew that too. Sure, Peggy wasn't necessarily the most outright affectionate parent, but each parent loved in their own way. Peggy's happened to be praises. Hanging drawings on her fridge. Bragging about a good grade. Cheering the loudest at the kids' games.

Steve, on the other hand, took after his own parents. Making sure to give bear hugs and kisses on foreheads. Making sure to give them extra snuggles at bedtime and making sure to wipe their tears away when they cried.

It had been eight years since he was a stay at home dad, and he doubted that the kids even remembered that time, but he still did so much for them. He always would.

Now what was he supposed to do with them across the pond?

When their run was over, they caught their breath and stretched. Sam said, "Monica is making some beignets. If you, y'know, wanna come over for breakfast."

As much as Steve didn't want to be alone, he also didn't want to feel like a burden. And Steve knew that Sam didn't act like he was being a burden, but old insecurities die hard. Besides, the only person that Steve never felt like a burden to was –

Shaking his head to get steel-blue eyes out of his mind, Steve declined, "No, that's okay."

"Probably for the best," Sam smirked. Clarifying, "She's trying to teach Sloane to cook."

"Oof," Steve chuckled, thinking back to when he first attempted to teach Harrison how to cook. The poor kid had almost burned the house down from making rice crispy treats! Steve still wasn't sure how he had managed to do that, but he tried to keep an eye on him because the kid was going to learn how to feed himself.

"Hey, um," Steve started. Keeping his focus on the ground and his attention mostly on his stretches, he asked Sam, "Are you going to the reunion?"

"Hell yeah, I am!"

Steve was a little surprised at that. Moreso how hyped he was rather than his confirmation.

Sam broke it down, "I'm gonna show off my hot wife and brag about our badass daughter!"

"Glad you have a plan," Steve chuckled.

"Hey," Sam leaned against a tree, "What about you? Since the kids are with Peggy?"

"I, uh," Steve started, but stopped. He wasn't sure how he wanted to finish that.

There was a part of him that wanted to go. Show off the man he had grown into. See the shocked looks from those who he didn't have on his friend list. But mostly, he was afraid. Not of the bullies that he fought all of those years ago. Oh no, he wasn't even scared of them back then. No, what he was afraid of, was seeing Bucky Barnes.

Unlike most of the people from their graduating class, Bucky didn't have social media. No Facebook, no Instagram, not even a goddamn LinkedIn for fuck's sake. And at first, Steve had been relieved that Bucky wasn't friends with everyone but him. Because that had been his biggest fear after Bucky ghosted him. Afraid that he had personally done something to make his best friend not want to be his friend anymore.

So, at least there was that small silver lining.

Now though, he was afraid to see Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes and his perfect steel-blue eyes. Bucky Barnes and the chin dimple that Steve wanted to kiss, even to this day. Bucky Barnes and his infectious sarcasm. Bucky Barnes and his sunny, happy-go-lucky demeanor.

Just Bucky Barnes being Bucky Barnes. His perfect, stupid self.

God, Steve missed him. Missed him so fucking much that even twenty-five years later, it still hurt just as much as that first day of no communication had.

"It might be good," Sam offered, soft and kind. The same way he talked to the group down at the VA. "And besides, you can't tell me that you've never thought about showing off that body."

Blushing, Steve shoved Sam. Then, nearly dropped to the ground from laughing so hard when Sam fell on his ass. All the while, the Black man scowled up at him while extending his hand in a silent plea to be helped up. Of course, Steve did. He wasn't completely an asshole, after all.

Looking at his watch, Sam asked, "You sure you don't wanna come over for breakfast?"

"Yeah, man, I'm sure," Steve assured. As they started to depart in their opposite directions, Steve said, "Raincheck?"

"Raincheck," Sam agreed.

Needing to clear his head a little more, Steve ran home. There was so much that he wanted to know about his childhood best friend. And there seemed to only be one way he'd find out.

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woodworkingpastor · 1 year

Text

Tempt -- Matthew 4:1-11 -- First Sunday of Lent, 2023

In preparing my sermon for this morning I noted that I preached this same text last year on the First Sunday of Lent—51 Sundays ago, as it turns out. What encourages me is that after I had again gone through my preparation, I found I had arrived at the same conclusions this year that I did last year: namely, that this passage is not talking about the particular temptations to sin that we face but is asking us if we are prepared to trust God.

Temptations are matters of great significance about which various New Testament writers have important things today. We live in a time where so many addictive things are encouraged openly even as we observe the rising damage done to our physical, mental, and relational health. One need look no farther than the sudden availability of sports gambling, with the ever-present advice on how to find help for gambling addiction, or the mounting evidence of how damaging social media is to our youth (especially our pre-teen and teenage girls) to understand how dangerous this boundary-less path is that we are on.

But this does not change the fact that this is not a text about these types of temptations. The bridge that connects our life experience to the text is that those things that tempt us—in whatever form they come—reveal our commitment to our fundamental identity.

Our identity is tested in the wilderness. Matthew tells us that:

Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished (Matthew 4:1-2).

The desert is one of the more demanding places on earth in which to live. The “desert” moments of our lives—be they literal or (more likely) metaphorical—are the circumstances we face when are at the end of ourselves and are forced to deal with our ultimate limits. If it came right down to it, what would we do to survive? To protect our reputation? To feed our family? To satisfy our lusts or our insecurities?

The identity that we are tempted to betray is that of the church, the set-apart people of God.

This has always been a temptation for God’s people. The story of Jesus’ temptations is in many ways a redoing of the Exodus from Egypt. If you remember your Sunday School lessons, then you will recall the Hebrew people’s slavery in Egypt, and how God sent Moses to demand Pharoah let the people go. 10 plagues later, the people are set free, only to have Pharoah change his mind and pursue them to the banks of the Red Sea. God delivers the people from Pharoah’s army through the Red Sea and on to freedom.

Having been led through the Red Sea and into the desert as God’s chosen, set-apart people destined to be the ones through whom all peoples were reconciled to God, the people immediately face temptation. Would there be enough to eat? Would there be enough to drink? Who will take care of us?

So too, Jesus has emerged through the waters—this time the waters of baptism—having heard from heaven:

This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased (Matthew 3:17).

And now each of us, having emerged from our own waters of baptism, are called to be that set-apart people in our generation; to “Continue the Work of Jesus” as we Brethren like to say.

The call is challenging, because we, too, have to face the difficulties. Will we reject the temptation to tribalism that is rooted deeply within each of us and fanned into a furious fire by the culture wars of our day? Will we live with an open hand extended toward our neighbor with the hope that the possibility of peace and relationship will be more valued more than fear and exclusion. Will we trust that our future will be well, regardless of the latest swing of the stock market? Will the future of our church be strong, even as we note a rising cultural disinterest in the hope of the Gospel?

The Christian season of Lent is an opportunity for spiritual renewal, of walking with Jesus toward the cross. It is a journey that begins in the desert, where we can confront those things that threaten our identity and find healing in the presence of Jesus.

Confronting the tempter

The temptations to turn stones to bread and to jump from the pinnacle of the Temple speak to Jesus’ credibility as the Son of God. “If…” is a terribly accusatory way of asking someone something, because when the question is put to us in that form, the intent is to cast doubt or throw shade. “If” is not so much a question as it is a manipulation of the person to whom it is directed. And even though questions formed in this fashion really say more about the one asking the question than the one to whom they are asked, the temptation to betray our commitments so that we may be proven in the eyes of another is real. How many times have we heard (or asked!) questions that began with if? “If you really loved me…” “If you really cared…”

The temptations the devil hurls at Jesus aren’t intended to question Jesus’ identity; they question Jesus’ allegiance. Will Jesus be a servant who comes to reconcile the last, little, lost, and least, or will Jesus be just one more carnival act that dazzles willing audiences with amazing feats of skill? Will Jesus be a Savior or a showman? Will Jesus introduce people to life in the Kingdom of God, or will he be a hawker of religious goods and spiritual trinkets?

The third temptation is of a different sort, as it reveals that Kingdom work is done on contested ground. We should not overlook the tempter’s statement, “All these I will give…”. They were his to offer because of sin. All things may have been created, “in, through, and for Jesus” (as Paul writes in Colossians 1), but Jesus does not currently have home-field advantage.

Jesus answers each of the tempter’s snares by appealing to Scripture. No tricks, no clever turn of a phrase, just a deep understanding that whatever and whenever temptations come our way, God has been revealed to us both in Scripture and in the person of Jesus. We need appeal nowhere else but to the core of Scripture to find our purpose and our value.

Remaining faithful in the desert

Desert experiences strip us bare and force us to confront our unvarnished selves. They are not inherently bad, for, in the words of theologian Stanley Hauerwas, they teach us that:

the devil is but another name for our impatience. We want bread, we want to force God’s hand to rescue us, we want peace—and we want all this now. But Jesus is our bread, he is our salvation, he is our peace. That he is so requires that we learn to wait with him in a world of hunger, idolatry, and war to witness the kingdom that is God’s presence. The Father will have the kingdom present one small act at a time (Matthew, 55).

We see what happens when, in our desert moments, we succumb to impatience and attempt to take matters into our own hands—people get hurt. Over recent months I’ve been following the cover-up of sexual misconduct and abuse by leaders in the Southern Baptist Convention; church leaders (all men) who had documented evidence of wrongdoing by a number of pastors decided that their attempt to preserve the public reputation of the church was more important than protecting abused women in their churches, and so they dismissed the women who bravely told their stories of abuse until the accumulated weight of the stories was too big to continue hiding.

Similarly, each day our communities deal with gun violence that is enabled by allowing virtually unrestricted access to guns, knowing that many of those guns will be purchased legally then handed off illegally to those bent on violence. It’s yet another case where many want something dangerous to be unrestricted and yet want to refuse to connect the dots to the damage done.

Lent is an opportunity to strip away the extraneous aspects of our faith, to leave behind all the ways we are tempted to say, “Jesus and…”. It is an opportunity to cut through all of the “isms” of our day, to reject the opportunities we have to take what we know of Jesus and add to him all the trinkets and wares and ideas and philosophies that appeal to our senses. What we find when we examine these matters is that often what we want the most are really the accoutrements that we have added to make the real thing seem more appealing.

There is no ultimate allegiance of Jesus with worldly things or agencies or institutions. Jesus does not bear the sword. Jesus does not identify with a certain brand of politics. Jesus is not only about social justice. To quote Mennonite scholar Myron Augusburger,

I believe in justice; but I am not a preacher of a gospel of justice, but of the gospel of Christ who calls us to justice…I believe in peace; but I am not a preacher of the gospel of peace, but the gospel of Christ who calls us to peace…We must beware of the ultimate plagiarism, that of borrowing great concepts from Jesus…but not proclaiming the Christ who empowers those concepts…”

As walk with Jesus this Lenten season, the cover art on the bulletin suggests a stripping away of all that is not essential, removing what is unneeded so that what remains can be used for it’s intended purpose, so that we may learn that God is our provider, our protector, and our portion, who is bringing us through the wilderness and on to the Promised Land.

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pazodetrasalba · 1 year

Text

The green-eyed monster

Dear Caroline:

In a few of your writings I find myself, to a higher or lesser degree, at odds with what you say, but with this post I feel onboard 100%. This might not be as good as it sounds, though, as it could dull the edge of my musings.

I believe the prior about jealousy in the Rationalist community would be to interpret it as some sort of irrationalist, caveman instinct that can and should be hacked and be done away with. Which is kind of an all-too-convenient point of view to have when you are low on commitment and high on getting multiple sources of gratification. But I will leave that swashbuckling for some other time, and content myself with repeating, after you, that jealousy and attraction are inextricably intertwined.

The key go-to text for a Humanist in this matter would be Othello, and yet I feel the changes since then have morphed the green-eyed monster into a creature of a different kind. What seems to bring the moor to into a rage is mostly the loss of face and social standing that Desdemona's supposed lapse would bring about, and perhaps, the feeling of trust betrayed (on a side note related to this, it is interesting to mention how humans and primates prefer by far punishment of perceived wrongdoers than a limited material benefit; the case in point is the example of the game when Alice gets given 1000 dollars to split with Bob on condition Bob accepts the split that Alice proposes. If she were to get greedy and offer 999-1 in her favor, almost all the Bobs in the world would angrily reject the offer in spite of the fact that one dollar is better than none. But anyway, you have read much, much more game theory and evolutionary psychology than I have...). Today, in a liquid postmodernity in which relationships, in spite of the ideal, are less lasting and more easily done away with than in the past (and this is in no way restricted to the polyamorous shenanigans of the Bay area, but affects monogamous pairings with equal force), I would say that jealousy's goalposts have moved to just the fear and anxiety at losing the people we love.

From that point of view, I'd say jealously is a confirmation that you are really hooked on the other person, and would suffer considerably by their loss. Of course it can be abused, and of course it tells more about your own insecurities than about anything else, but I would be much more worried by its complete absence, as the only way I could make sense of it would be one of these two, neither of them good:

my couple is no longer invested in me and our relationship, or extremely overconfident.

my couple is some sort of inhuman Übermensch of cold rationality, which is not like 1 but has the effect of making you feel as if it is regardless.

What you describe about your ex feels like a textbook case of passive-aggressive breaking up, and I have encountered quite a few of them, even if I didn't have to suffer them myself. The interpretation I make of these cases is that the guilty party feels (subconsciously or otherwise) that by talking to you about their new object of desire, it is somehow 'less wrong' (no pun intended) to sport those feelings, and that in some sense, you've been given a 'fair warning', and it is your supposed fault not having acted upon it.

Anyway, in this case I think your devious ex got his just deserts through the break-up, even if he didn't realize it at the moment, as the perspective of having enjoyed your intimacy and affection and then irrevocably losing them is painful enough for me to imagine, let alone to suffer. But then again I am extremely partial to you, and can allow myself a glimmer of envy for all those who have ever enjoyed a place in your heart and in your estimation.

Quote:

O beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meet it feeds on.

William Shakespeare, Othello

#caroline ellison #jealousy

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

if you like the fic - please reblog, like, comment, or come talk to me in my inbox!

I write for free so if you enjoy my fics please consider donating to support my writing on my kofi.

enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S’mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

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