#like I understand it’s worse for other people

[chainmail-butch]

i was talking to a friend who's a trans woman about this. she used to be really weird about butch trans women, but ended up being butch herself. she told me she was adverse to it because "it was like watching someone leave their house completely naked. you feel maybe a little embarrassed for them but you're mostly scared for how other people are going to treat them too. [she] thought "well, [she'd] be embarrassed doing the same and maybe they were having a hard time passing. but then finding out they're doing it on purpose, [she] thought that they were making a joke of being trans, like they were enforcing the stereotype of just saying you were a woman despite not making any effort to look like one. [she] was confused as to why anyone would do that, especially when she'd been having a hard time being treated well even though she did everything to make herself like a cis girl." she hated having to put in so much effort into looking feminine but did it because she was sure that's just what you had to do. obviously, probably regardless of how she looked, she was going to be treated like shit on the principal of being trans and after actually talking to butches and thinking about it more, she decided to just dress how she felt comfortable and still be proud of being a woman.

That's very interesting to hear. That is the consistent impression I've gotten from well meaning trans women.

I had to wrestle with the whole, "declaring myself a woman without making the effort," thing. When I first transitioned I put on dresses, tried on makeup, and got cute jackets. None of it felt right. I knew, entirely, that I was a woman. But doing all of the things women were supposed to be doing made me feel even worse than when I had lived as a man, which is saying something.

I eventually figured out that there is plenty of effort to being a butch woman. There are still styles, there are still pieces of gendered clothing, there are still gendered actions, they're just hidden in plain sight. They're all the things I wanted to do and all the ways that I wanted to be perceived that I couldn't understand until someone (Leslie Feinberg) held a mirror to my face (SBB) and said Butch. Then it all clicked.

I've been doing HRT for three full years now. I've been socially transitioned for three full years now. It is work. It is a challenge. It is walking out of the house with nothing but your soul and what you choose to armor it with. For some women the armor is a dress and a full face of makeup. For me its leather and boots.

I love my sisters deeply. I love women deeply. I love womanhood deeply. But my womanhood is also deliberately not womanhood. My selfish desire is a world where I can be exactly who I am without having to justify it to every woman, trans or cis, that crosses my path. But that's not gonna happen any time soon.

As so many butches, cis and trans, have said, It is a difficult road to walk and I have no choice but to walk it.

#asks answered #butch #transgender

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I was given oral herpes by someone who didn't feel the need to disclose that they got cold sores before we had a one-time little dalliance.

I might've gone for it anyways. I'm self destructive. But I guess the lack of being able to choose whether to take the risk, it's left me feeling pretty bitter about the experience.

And I'm left feeling like a biohazard. I haven't really been able to explain to my friends yet why I'm suddenly extremely cagey about sharing my drinks and food. And all my favorite sexual activities are off the table forever. I know, dental dams, condoms, but half the fun of oral sex and making out is, you know, the taste, the heat, the absolute control. I was good at it.

It feels especially embarrassing since I'm ace and the whole reason I hooked up with the person was kind of... I don't know, fear that if I didn't, then we wouldn't be able to hang out anymore.

I'm not sure what I'm asking. Maybe, was it wrong for them not to disclose something like that? Considering how common it is? I feel obligated to disclose myself but maybe I'm just weird for that.

Thanks for doing what you do here.

Kind regards,

Asexual for Ethical Reasons Now I Guess

hi anon,

I don't often apologize for needing time to get to anons, because I really need people to have reasonable expectations about the amount of time I'm willing to commit to my inbox, but I am sorry for not getting to this one sooner. it's a topic that's very important to me, and I can tell you're dealing with a lot of hurt.

first off: I'm very sorry someone wasn't totally honest with you. that's never a good feeling, and especially in the context of sex it's a huge betrayal of trust. it's deeply unfair to you, and I hope you're able to recover from that.

having said that: you are not a biohazard. you're a person with an incredibly common virus. the World Health Organization estimates that somewhere around 80% of people worldwide have herpes (and that's a rough estimate, since they use different age ranges for HSV-1 and HSV-2). skip to the factual part of this tiktok at 00:10 seconds. herpes has been with us since before we were human; there's nothing disgusting or even unusual about having herpes.

herpes is different from most STIs in that it is lifelong, but that doesn't make you an unfuckable pariah. it makes you someone who may sometimes have open sores, and should give partners a heads up about your virus to avoid putting anyone in the same situation you're in. while you're at it, let them know that most people with herpes live asymptomatic and uncomplicated lives. many people never even know they have it!

I understand that spending the rest of your life with a viral buddy doesn't sound super fun right now, but I promise that as viruses go you can do WAY worse.

personally I've always felt the best way to get comfortable with something is to learn more about it. why not let clinical sexologist Dr. Doe talk to you about her own herpes, and how to be conscientious about minimizing the risk of sharing herpes with others?

or listen to writer Ella Dawson talk about learning to cope with the exact stigma you're currently struggling with?

or listen to Dr. Sydnee Smirl McElroy explain why herpes bears such a heavy stigma for such a mild virus in the first place?

you're not a biohazard, and neither is anyone else with an STI. that's a terrible way to think about yourself and others.

you're under no obligation to stop being sexually active if you don't want to be.

please don't feel that you have to have sex with anyone out of a sense of obligation anymore, but also please don't feel that herpes is a punishment. sickness isn't something that happens to people because they're bad or deserve, sickness happens to people because people get sick.

take care 💜

#sex edventures 2024

[ot9snumber1]

rabbit hole

sana minatozaki x reader

summary: sana dislikes—no, hates your idea of love.

warnings: suggestive, angst, fluff, roommate!sana, emetophobia very briefly mentioned, reader is an idiot

notes: inspired by 'rabbit hole' - deco*27! i've been getting into vocaloid recently 🤓

also i wrote this overnight? i've never written so fast before im scared dove what did u do to me (lovingly) (but seriously im finally free from writers block hooray!) (also this means its not proofread sorry)

wc: 4.1k

—

the loud slam of the door jolts sana awake, nearly falling off the couch as she sat up. her heart sinks, thinking that someone had broken in—but when you emerge from the dark hallway, she sighs out of relief.

sana checks the clock, 1:30 am. "you're home late. again." she mumbles, standing up and keeping the blanket wrapped around herself as she stopped you from going up the stairs. you groan, just wanting to take your clothes off and sleep.

"are you drunk?"

"no."

sana doesn't believe you. she steps closer, leaning in to smell your breath. you ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at that. instead of smelling liquor, her nose scrunches at the scent of perfume. it wasn't yours, nor hers, nor from the girl you slept with two days ago.

somehow, that made her feel worse than if you had actually been drunk.

"who was it this time?" she asks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen. sana hates that you struggled to keep up with her. "doesn't matter, i've done better."

she cringes at your words. "you can't just say that." sana mumbles frustratedly, letting go of you to get you a glass of water. her blanket falls by your feet. "what? that i've done better? because i have! this girl was, like,—"

"no! that it doesn't matter!" she whisper–yells, not wanting to wake any nosy neighbors up. sana forces you to hold the glass of water before picking the blanket up off the ground. "you don't even know her name, do you?"

you bite your lip, desperately trying to remember who you were begging to earlier. "uh.."

"you're–so—" sana looks like she wants to kill you. understandably so, but you think she's just being weirdly overprotective. she sighs, shaking her head. "i'm going to bed." is all she mumbles before pushing past you.

you watch as she disappears into your apartment. shrugging, you lean against the doorway and drink your water.

"what's her problem?"

—

"i don't know! i have to snap her out of this or something. it's getting worse every night!" she was watching you from the corner of her eye. it wasn't like she didn't trust nayeon or the people she invited over, she just didn't trust what you'd do in a room full of strangers.

(a room full of nayeon's really attractive friends is how she'd describe it.)

momo puts a hand on sana's arm, her other hand taking her cup. she frowned, worried for her best friend as she grew antsy just talking about you.

"okay, first of all, that's enough drinking for you." momo mumbled, downing the rest of sana's drink despite the angry pout on her face. "second, you need to tell her that this shit's unhealthy."

"i've tried!"

"angrily taking care of her when she comes home isn't confronting her."

sana's pout gets deeper. she hadn't even said anything that would make momo think that... but she knew she couldn't argue with her. that did happen to be what she was doing after all.

"either way, she's either drunk out of her mind or smelling too much like someone else for me to even think of telling her to stop." sana sounds hopeless at this point, leaning against a wall and throwing her head back against it. "i don't think that second thing should stop you from confronting them...?" momo's eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of what sana was saying.

she gasps, "unless—you're jealous?"

sana freezes, attention going to momo. "no? no! that's—i'm not like that—i care about them—" she stammers, trying to deflect what momo just said until her eyes land on you. you were across the room, rolling your eyes at something chaeyoung said.

she looks back at momo, then you, then momo. "maybe i am? that's not the main point, though! what she's doing is totally unhealthy!" sana spews out, her words almost faster than momo could comprehend. (she had years of experience in sana-speak, though. sana could make unintelligible noises and she'd still understand what she was saying.)

"calm down, sha. i'm not saying you're only doing this because you're jealous." momo reassures, but sana could tell she was biting back a laugh. "i'm just saying that it's bugging you more because you care so much about her as a friend and because you've had feelings for her since she moved in."

sana sighs. "you're right. sorry for getting defensive."

momo shrugs, giving her a reassuring smile. "don't apologize. i'll get us some more drinks."

sana watches as momo walks away, trying to shrink into the wall while she was alone. she liked meeting new people but not when she felt unease build up in her stomach.

she should just talk to you, she thinks. if she can hear that you're doing fine right now then her nerves will be completely gone for the rest of the—

"who is that?" sana asks, entire body tensing up when momo comes back with two cups in hand. momo looks to where sana was glaring at and winces.

you were talking to one of nayeon's friend's friend's friend. she was a bit all up in your face for someone you just met.

"chaewon i think was her name? she came here with sakura. sakura's mina's friend and—" momo purses her lips when sana storms her way over to you. she sighs, looking down at the cups she was holding. "more for me."

—

"i can't." you whine as chaewon wrapped her arms around your neck, bringing you even closer. she laughs, throwing her head back. you stare at her neck and lick your lips, wondering how good she'd look when you leave your mark on her. "my roomie's driving me home." you pout, "she doesn't like when i bring girls over."

"tell her you're going home with me, then." she shrugs, retracting an arm to take a sip of her drink. "kkura can catch a ride with someone else, she'll understand." chaewon's offer sounds way too good to turn down, especially when she props the cup against your lips for you to drink.

you accept, eyes locking with hers as you accept the alcohol happily. "how's that sound?"

"perf—"

"excuse me." someone interjects, using all of her strength to separate you and chaewon. you groan, about to shove the intruder away until you realize it was sana. that makes you groan again. "sorry, i have to take this one home." sana says, an arm wrapping around your waist as she stared chaewon down

your eyebrows furrow. "what? no you don't!" you hiss, trying to push sana away from you. she just tightens her grip around you. "i'm going with chaewon."

"no you're not." sana replies through gritted teeth. "sorry about her," she smiles, false sweetness all over her demeanor. "she's like this all the time. she's not what you're looking for."

sana practically drags you away from chaewon and out of the apartment. on your way out, she mouths a 'gotta go!' to nayeon, who takes one look at you and nods understandingly.

needless to say, you're pissed.

you were about to have the night of your life! the best sex you'd had in.. well, a few weeks, you think. your last handful of partners were nothing but time killers. ugh, that made it even worse. why was sana so mad about your sex life anyway?!

you were sulking the entire ride, arms crossed and refusing to even have her in your peripheral vision. sana notices and it drives her crazy.

she quickly pulls over, driving you equally crazy. the tension in that car was thick.

"what is with you?!" sana nearly shrieks, turning to face you. you gasp, finally looking at her. "what is with me? i'm not the one unnecessarily inserting myself in my roommate's sex life!"

"what the fuck are you talking about? i'm trying to protect you!"

"from what, sana? hot girls?"

sana let out a big exhale. you were being so frustrating—more so than usual. if it weren't for the seatbelts and the fact you both care about each other, you probably would've been at each other's throats by now.

"from doing whatever this is!" her words are accompanied by gesturing to you with both of her hands. you still didn't get it. "don't you realize how unhealthy this is?"

you blink, tilting your head in confusion. "unhealthy would be the last word i'd use to describe love, sana."

her eyes widen. "love—?" she leans back in her seat, exasperated. "you've gotta be fucking kidding." sana mumbles, her hands finding their way to the steering wheel. her knuckles go white at how tight she was holding on.

"what?" you were genuinely puzzled at her reaction. "aren't you like, the number one advocate for loving in your own way?"

"this is not love!" her eyes are back on you. you frown, she was genuinely intimidating now. "you are hurting yourself! you're letting these people take advantage of you... i don't know! you wanting to be held?"

you scoff, rolling your eyes and leaning back. "you don't get it. it's not my fault miyeon broke up with your sorry ass." the words leave your mouth before you could even process that you had the guts to think about sana like that. "wait, no—i'm sorry—"

"fuck off." sana mumbles, shifting the car back into drive.

you stay put the rest of the ride, feeling a pit grow deep inside your stomach.

—

sana wasn't home the next morning. you weren't sure if she had plans or work—she'd always tell you beforehand. it made you feel even worse, it took a miracle to get through breakfast without throwing up. the same went for the rest of the day.

by the time the sun set, you were shaking from nerves. you didn't want to face sana when she came home. you didn't want to keep thinking about her and what she said and what you said and what you've been doing.

instead, you get the brilliant idea to respond to your ex's text that you'd left on delivered for three hours.

y/n: pick me up in 10

do not reply: knew you'd come around ;)

you throw up in the toilet before you leave.

—

you don't even make it out of the parking lot of your apartment.

lisa's parked in the furthest corner, too dark for anyone to see inside and too far for anyone to hear how you were panting against her.

you were wedged between lisa and the back of the passenger seat. she pushed her thigh further against your throbbing pussy, biting your lip with a smile. "fuck, couldn't wait to see me, huh?" she hums as she watches you grind down on her thigh desperately.

"you've been thinking about me, haven't you? dressed up so slutty.. you wanted me to fuck you in here, no?" lisa's voice grows raspy as she toyed with the fishnets on your legs.

her words fall on deaf ears. your body was enjoying this, but your mind was far away from the woman sucking on your collarbone. you're not even sure why you chose this stupid bunny outfit sana bought you for april fools.

there it is again, you were thinking about sana. sana sana sana sana. no matter what you did, she was clouding your mind!

"turn around baby, i wanna see what set you're wearing for me." lisa whispers and you obey absentmindedly, still thinking about what sana said to you while she undid the ties holding your corset together.

then it hits you.

sana likes you.

she's jealous that you're sleeping with everyone but her!

you gasp, making lisa peek from behind you. "what's wrong, baby?"

you swat her hands away from your back, turning around. "oh my god. sana's in love with me."

"your roommate?"

you nod. lisa frowns, "what does that—"

"i'm so sorry, i have to go!" you mutter, clumsily opening the door and climbing out of it. lisa's calling after you, frustrated and confused to the max as you ran back to your apartment.

the slamming of the front door makes sana flinch, immediately muting the show she was watching. her head whips to you clumsily running into the living room, kicking your heels off as soon as you saw her.

sana's eyes widen and she's furious again—"what the hell are you wearing?" she stands up, but gets pushed down by you once you make it in front of her. she hates that you look good in that stupid outfit she bought and hates that she can tell your corset was halfway undone.

"doesn't matter—i get what you were trying to tell me yesterday."

"you do?"

sana looks hopeful as you sit next to her, that sweet smile you adored gracing her face.

"yes!" you grin. the way she was smiling at you made you feel like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. "and i'm really sorry for what i said yesterday, that was really shitty of me."

sana shakes her head, "it's okay. you were mad, so was i. i think i could've been nicer but—if it helped you realize it in the end, i guess it's all in the past."

you nod eagerly, barely able to contain your excitement as you lunge forward and kiss her. you sigh, it felt so good to love h—

sana pulls away, hand on your chest to keep you at a distance. "what the fuck?"

your heart sinks. "what? don't you—i thought you liked me?"

sana blinks, looking as shocked as she did yesterday. "of all the things i yelled at you about, that's what you got out of it?"

"isn't that what you were trying to tell me?"

"no, oh my god!"

sana was pacing in front of you now while you were sat and looking up at her like a dumb bunny. (you kind of were one, anyway.)

"i don't want to yell at you again, i'm going to bed."

you watch her leave, snapping out of a trance when she slams the door.

you look back to the tv to see what sana was watching.

the bachelorette, greaaaat. you roll your eyes and change the channel. seeing someone else's messy love life didn't really make you feel better about yours.

huffing, you take your bunny headband off and stare at it down on your lap. what was so hard for you to understand?

—

you were laying face down on nayeon's couch a week later. you'd been ignoring sana, feeling guilty every time you even thought of her. it didn't exactly help that she kept checking up on you anyway.

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: u ok?

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: i won't be home tonight, staying at momo's

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: lmk if u need anything

"sana texted again." nayeon hums as she sees your phone light up beside her. you'd tossed it out of frustration onto the floor half an hour ago. nayeon was on the floor so she could comb through your hair with a comb she accidentally bought. it was one of those metal tooth ones meant to capture lice.

"you really need to talk to her, y/n."

"i knooooow!" you whine. nayeon was inspecting your hair really well, surprisingly. not that you actually had lice, she was just bored and you were miserable. at least it was relaxing?

"i don't know what to say, though! i've been a complete idiot! what if she hates me?"

"she's been sending you texts every day since you started leeching off me."

you groan. why must sana be the sweetest person ever?

"i'm not leeching off you."

"then go home tonight."

you groan again.

nayeon sits back, putting the comb away and letting you lift your head to face her. "if you're so convinced that she's either jealous or trying to control what you do, why do you care? it's not like you to be this affected by what anyone says."

you shrug, turning around to lay on your back. "i'm trying to figure that out. i'd say it's because she's my roommate but that never stopped me from going behind her back in the past."

"and it's not like i'd give a shit if anyone else told me to fuck off. or push me away if i tried to kiss them."

nayeon raises an eyebrow, "so sana's special?"

"i guess."

she grins. it was nothing she didn't know, she just wanted to hear it from you. "hope you know you've been in love with her for a while now."

you sit up, looking at her like she was crazy. "nayeon. when i say you're crazy i really mean it."

she shakes her head. "no! i'm being serious! think about it, why were you so eager to leave lisa when you thought sana liked you?"

you purse your lips, genuinely thinking about what nayeon was saying.

"and this entire thing of yours started when sana went on a trip abroad with momo! you didn't have access to the most affectionate person in your life for two weeks and you kept whining about how they kept posting each other like they were dating!"

nayeon gets up and sits beside you, rubbing your arm gently. "i didn't say anything at first because god knows you would've told me to fuck off."

"oh, and didn't one of the girls you hooked up with warn you about how bad this was too? what was her name... jihyo? and you wouldn't even listen to her."

"i think i get it, nayeon."

"shhh, no, let me have this. sana's the only person you ever listened to, or at the very least considered changing yourself for. love isn't whatever the hell you're doing to replace the lack of affection in your life—"

"ouch." you grumble, but nayeon just tells you to take it. you do, she was right anyway. "love is how you're acting about sana."

you cringe. "that was the cheesiest thing you could have ever said to me." you mumble as you hug her. "but you're right, i think. thank you."

—

you don't slam the door closed this time, not wanting to give sana a heart attack with how many times you'd done it before.

as you approach her, you take note of the fact she was watching the bachelorette again. maybe the fake messiness of it all was comforting to her.

"sana?" you whisper, taking a seat beside her. she blinks, surprised to see you home at all. apologies die down in your throat. she looked so gentle.

"i thought you were at momo's?"

"nayeon texted me saying that you might need someone to come home to."

you smile, unable to look her in the eyes anymore. "i'm sorry, sana. for everything. i've been really stupid for the past few months."

"more than stupid, but go on."

you chuckle lightly, your body feeling lighter after realizing she really didn't resent you. "i was too stubborn to listen to anyone about it. except you, evidently. you're... really special to me."

"and i'm sorry for kissing you the other night! god, i was really dumb and just jumped at the chance that you might love me too because i really didn't want to consider that you were right about me hurting myself." sana listened intently as you rambled out your apologies. you were really making sure that you apologized for anything and everything—so much had happened and you hated that sana got caught up in it.

"and i shouldn't have talked about your relationship with miyeon like that. i know how hard it was for you and i was just deflecting and being an ass. sorry."

your eyes meet hers again, sad and brimming with tears. you hold in your breath until she crawls over and hugs you tightly. you hug her back just as tight, crying into her cream colored sweater.

"thank you," sana whispers. "i'm glad you've finally come to your senses. i forgive you." you let out the biggest sigh of relief as she rubs your back comfortingly.

"and i think i'm in love with you."

"i know."

you're suddenly pulled into her lap. sana peels your body off of her so she could wipe your tears away and hold your face. "i.. i love you too, but let me think about it first? this whole situation was so..."

"messy?"

"that's not how i'd describe it, but i guess, yeah, it was messy."

you nod, "it's okay, i understand."

the bachelorette was still playing in the background, filling in the silence between you and sana.

"can i watch with you?"

sana nods, letting you snuggle up beside her. it takes a minute for the two of you to adjust, but as soon as you do, she's talking your ear off about what you need to know about the contestants.

you listen, paying more attention to her expressions than what she's saying.

it felt good to have this again.

—

it's been two months since you confessed your love to sana.

you never bugged her about it, but she remembered to tell you that she was still thinking about it every now and then. you didn't really mind, anyway, the two of you were back to being attached at the hip and that was more than enough for you.

"have you seen sana?"

you were back at nayeon's place, celebrating her girlfriend's birthday. nayeon looks around, lips pursed. "over there!" she yells because the two of you were standing right by the big speaker chaeyoung brought. "thanks!" you yell back before making your way across the room to sana.

you weave through the crowd, nearly tripping over yourself three times before you finally land in front of sana...

who was talking to someone else.

you try not to be jealous, but it was incredibly hard when the girl she was talking to was visibly falling for her!

you didn't want to look overly possessive, especially because the two of you weren't officially dating. you start walking away, but sana catches you in the corner of her eye.

"y/n!" she calls out, her voice as bubbly as ever. you freeze for a moment but turn back to her and walk over with a tight smile. "hi, sana. hi.." you turn to the girl she was talking to, observing her.

"soyeon."

you give her a polite smile before turning back to your roommate. "did you need anything?" she asks, noticing that you've been trying to talk to her the entire time you've been here. "no... just... wanted to see you...?"

they both stare at you for a bit, soyeon extremely confused while sana blushes and giggles. you want the ground to swallow you whole—what kind of an excuse was that?!

"you're adorable, you know?"

you laugh awkwardly and decide to walk away after that. you didn't know how to act knowing other people were interested in your sana.

unluckily for you, she was being talked to all night long. one person after the other, always being stopped when you could see she was trying to make her way to you.

it pissed you off.

you weren't sure what else to do, though, so you just sat on nayeon's couch and sulked for the rest of the night.

—

sana was humming along to the song playing in the car, making sure to take the long route back home.

"can't last a night without being my center of attention, huh?" she teases, looking over to you while stopped at a red light. you blush, thankful for the red light. (sana's smile made you realize she knew you were blushing anyway.)

"you make me sound terrible." you huff, lips forming a pout. sana chuckles, "i think it's cute."

"wanna go out tomorrow?" she asks, humming as her eyes focus back to the road. you turn to look at her, partly confused and partly because you just wanted to stare at her pretty face. "are you asking me out?"

"duh."

"but i thought you needed time to think about it...?"

"if you don't want to go out with me, i have soyeon's number, just so you know."

you whine, hitting her arm lightly. "kidding, kidding." she laughs. "it's been two months, n/n. i'm sure i've had a thought since then."

you roll your eyes, you hated how much she loved to mess with you sometimes. "yeah, whatever. i expect to be pampered and be the center of your attention tomorrow." you tease, relaxing back into your seat.

"of course, your majesty."

she stops at another red light, quickly leaning over to kiss you. "only if you do the same for me on the next date, deal?"

you stare at her, completely flustered while she tucks your hair behind your ear. she's so irritating, you love her so bad.

you kiss her again, "deal."

#minatozaki sana x reader #sana x reader #twice x reader #minatozaki sana imagines #twice imagines #twice angst #twice fluff

[bringcal]

I think the thing I have the most issue within fandom culture is how hostile people are to different opinions other than their own and it also bleeds into hostility around creation in general.. Genuinely some of yall need to be told it's not justified to be an asshole to people just because you don't think their interpretation of a character is right. I DO think that being rude to strangers online over such petty reasons is far worse than committing the crime of 'Opinion bad' and I think peoples creativity and enjoyment need to be celebrated more!!

I make it a point to entertain and talk to people about their headcanons and theories with them no matter if I personally agree or disagree, because the joy people get engaging with a media and the creativity they get from it makes me happy to see and I will never understand people who want to shut that down.

And I'm not going to put up with 'but what if its genuinely harmful' because most of the shit I see people accuse of being harmful really isn't and its just people trying to grasp for 'reasons' to hate on something someone said over the internet. I think theres headcanons and opinions that can come out of racist, transphobic, ableist biases for sure, but this post is specifically about people who go on other peoples posts saying theyre 'wrong' about a different headcanon and acting like they just killed their family, and people making long ass paragraph posts on why they hate a specific headcanon and it just devolves into petty insults directed at anyone who dares enjoy it.

There is no 'right' headcanon or opinion, y'all need to be more well-adjusted to put it bluntly.

#homestuck #this is specifically regarding homestuck

[dflogerzi]

Hello friends. Okay, I spent some time offline, and did speak in length to a dear friend in England today. I think I understand a few things more. Firstly... there are no rules. And this is my timeline, and I get to change it as I see fit. When I first came to Tumblr it was for one purpose, I kid you not. I knew that Meghan Markle was in her supposed first pregnancy... and I knew it was a lie. I have carried a baby, I know how it works, and she was in my opinion lying. This timeframe coincided with my recent awakening of world events and falling down other rabbit holes.

I was gung-ho on both. And I must say, the world events thing did not serve me well on social media. I have never found it beneficial to argue with others about things we do not agree with. And so a few months into my profile building here on Tumblr and connecting I set my own rules on what it is I am here for. And trust me... the people I have connected with mean so much to me. Now then... I do follow some who I only give out likes to and more private conversations. You know who you are. So for the record I am going to be clear of who I am.

I served under Ronald Reagan while in the Navy. I was always more on the conservative side, although I used to joke that as a Californian, I was sitting on the wall in between and fell over to the right. I used to think a lot of liberal policies sounded good on paper, but that in reality they did not work very well. That has been proven to be true in my estimation. But let me be clear. I do not think the Republican view as it stands today is working out either in a bulk of cases, especially in Washington D.C. Our government is seriously compromised within both parties, and I am also speaking of all branches. Neither party is what it once was, and if you are not aware of what the Global agenda is for the common person I cannot help you. And it is not my place in life to even attempt it. We all journey as we do.

I then found my feet here. My goals were to talk of things I am interested in, loved all my life, and to find some fun in my days. When I stick to that... I thrive. But I am finding that as many more are awakening to the fact that our world is slipping away... we are all talking more. And the planned divisiveness is impacting all of us.

It is going to get worse. No matter what your stand is. And I completely believe this summer is going to get rough in the US. Very rough.

So what did I decide? Well... I want to be here. If I drift off, which was surprisingly easy this week, I do not get to enjoy dishing on all things royal, art, history, travel, spiritual life, pets, and the love I have for friends I have made here.

I may veer off to world events. I am no longer affiliated with any political party. I do not believe there are many in places of power who have our best interests at heart. When the WEF says that population control is a main agenda, I believe them. I have done my studying and digging... and I understand. History is repeating itself, but there is no one who will be landing on a shore in Normandy to save our world any longer.

I am not going to try to influence a single soul here. Nope. I just want to vent a bit on how dumb and ridiculous Harry is, how narcissistic I find Meghan, how much I admire Anne, and my hopes for Catherine's full recovery. I also want to read your posts on cute furry creatures, other lands and travels, inward journeys, art, and whatever else it is in life the day brings. But I admit that I may slip, and I go off on a world event. I apologize for it now. Just scroll on by if you would.

I had a tough time since last summer. I did. But that is what life can bring. And hopefully we grow. And in the end it will be what we take with us. Many changes do come on life's paths.

Love to friends. Thanks for listening. Going to just post this mess, warts and all.

[vilevexedvixen]

Gross take on Laios

*Please DO NOT harass this person. I am linking the video so people can hear her own words and come to their own conclusions about it. For what I'm concerned about (her warped view of Laios and autism) it's mainly after the 15 minute mark.*

TW: Mentions of past trauma (bullying and SA), and ablism related to autistic traits.

So I think I've stumbled across the worst take on Dungeon Meshi out of nowhere. Their points on the tonal whiplash of Dungeon Meshi juggling the fantasy cooking show and more serious plot are all sound... until she get's to Laios. *Edit: No, none of the video's criticisms are sound. The first half is them not parsing very standard mixes of tones and themes in fantasy anime, and the second half is just hateful, incoherent nonsense.*

Laios' flat affect, tendency to infodump, and not grieving Falin the way Marcelle does led her to the conclusion that Laios is a malicious psychopath. A little bit extreme. Made worse by the fact that she then deems any fans attributing autistic traits to Laios as infantalising and implying that if you relate to Laios you are similarly awful with - "What kind of autistic people are YOU hanging out with?! What kind of autistic person are you being???".

She then goes on to say, "The only one who calls out Laios is Shuro" over the clip of their fight. The fight that many autistic fans of the show I've met relate to because they've experienced the same fight. That fight is Shuro calling Laios out on... what? Laios being too open, smiley and blunt? Like that's harming anyone?

Shuro, frankly, threw a tantrum over motives he attributed to Laios that didn't exist and demanding Laios be less open? THAT'S "calling him out"?

None of Laios' actions that this woman is bemoaing harms any of his party members. He goes out of his way to try and help the team (with his monster knowledge, fighting skills, cooking, etc.) consistently and him not ugly-crying when Falin is resurrected doesn't diminish any of that. His care and compassion are heartfelt and sincere. The fact this woman refuses to acknowledge any of it is her perrogative, but I seriously question her choice to pull the "as an autistic person" card only to paint autistic traits in the worst possible light and insist they must be changed, or removed by "growing up" (an especially laughable sentiment given Shuro's very NT tantrum over not understanding autistc communication differences literally ONLY Shuro took issue with).

In the comment section, she also claims that "Masking is only in mundane situations". Says who? Either she's extremely sheltered or she's extremely short-sighted regarding other autistic peoples' experiences (which I guess explains her praise of Young Sheldon's depiction of autism).

Masking is a defence mechanism meant to help autistic people avoid danger and social rejection (which often leads to harm, so still danger). Masking can be performed in literaly ANY situation where someone feels they need to, unless they're already too overwhelmed or drained to continue masking. I have masked because I NEEDED to while being bullied, cornered (barely evading SA or trying to get through an SA/dissociate), trying to find help while stranded in a foreign country, etc. I know not everyone will've experienced such situations, but I doubt no one masks during similar ones. That isn't to say people don't mask in mundane situations, it just isn't exclusive to mundane situations.

If this lady actually is autistic and not just claiming to be so people who don't know better feel vindicated in her portrail of autistic traits in the worst possible light, then I sincerely hope she touches grass and talks to more autistic people sometime.

*Again, PLEASE don't harass this gal. The rest of her critiques are fine, but I needed to vent my frustration with her perpetuation of misinformation about autism. It is NOT ok.*

#autism #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #laios touden #Youtube

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt.5

First chapter, Previous chapter, Next chapter

A/N: Get ready for some angst baby. So this is my first time writing something close to angsty. Which means I might not have completely perfected it yet. Then again there needs to be a first for everything. I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do, please let me know. My reqs are also open if people have any ideas they want to see written.

WC: 2,7K

Tags: Mild angst, conflicting feelings, a little hurt/comfort?, alt reader, realizing feelings, I don’t think this chapter is considered fluff. 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling alone, hinting at past relationships?

Spencer POV

It was Thursday afternoon when Spencer had returned from a case. It was short, quick, which was nice because he wanted to go back to you. He had tried to call while away, to text you when he had time. Yet for some reason you hardly responded. You were slow to answer texts, the answers always short and quick. You had avoided his calls, when you did pick up they were equally as short as your texts. The tone was distant and a little cold. It was strange to him. The date had gone well, in his opinion, and he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. It was just a little nerve wracking. With every short message, every cut off call, his anxiety grew.

When they got back to Quantico, he was ready to head straight to your lab. Though he noticed there was no music when he arrived there, it was quiet inside. Too quiet. He gently knocked on the frosted glass door. There was no sound from inside, no light coming through the door. No indication that you were there. His shoulders sagged down, a little deflated. He had been looking forward to seeing you again, even if it was just to settle his own nerves. His hand found the cellphone in his pocket, he scrolled through the names until he found yours. Pressing the call button, he just really wanted to hear your voice. Needing to know if you were okay, if he hadn’t done something wrong. The phone rang, 3 times, heart beating out of his chest before you picked up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone! Penelope speaking.” The familiar voice of their technical analyst sounded from the other end of the phone. Spencer furrowed his brow a little, “Hey, it’s Spencer… Is she with you?” He asked, his left hand holding on to the bottom edge of his sweater. “Oh! Spence! She just headed to the toilet, she should be back soon. Want me to take a message?” Penelope answered, her voice chipper, she probably didn’t know you had been avoiding him. Or if she did she didn’t let it show. “Can I come talk to her?” He asked, still a bundle of nerves, the bad kind. The one where a nauseous feeling settles in your stomach. Where every word could send him into a spiral if it was said with the wrong tone. “Ofcourse, I am sure you have a lot to talk about.” Penelope spoke, and he could tell there was something in her voice. She knew what was going on. It made his stomach sink further. 

Just like that his feet started moving already towards Penelope’s office. “Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Spencer said and quickly hung up before anything she could say would make it worse. He was quick, hoping to be there before you came back, so you couldn’t avoid him. He was there in a minute, like he had said, quickly and almost feverishly knocking on the door. The rapid rap of his knuckles against the solid wood sounded hollow in his ears. Penelope opened, trying to put on a bubbly smile. Though he peered past her to see if you were already back. No sign yet. “Hey, you should come in.” Penelope opened the door wider and he stepped past her. “Has she said anything? About me?” Spencer’s question felt weird. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, or that he was obsessed, but he just had to understand why. Why had you been avoiding him?

“Slow down boy wonder. I think I am not the one to tell you about that.” Penelope answered as she closed the door, pointing towards one of the desk chairs. Spencer hadn’t noticed how he had been nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet until she did. He sat down, trying to regain some composure. “Did I do something wrong? I thought the date went well. Maybe I rambled too much… That's usually what happens. I should have just stayed quiet, listened to her.” He rambled off nervously, his mind spiraling back to when he had leaned in and told a fact when you had been expecting something completely different. But you had kissed him after that, twice, it was so conflicting. Confusing. Paradoxical. 

“Breathe!” Penelope urged, grabbing one of her many mugs with water and forcing it into Spencer’s hands. He took a gulp, hoping it would calm his nerves but it didn’t do anything. At Least he was silent. “Just…” Penelope sighed, “I can tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Spencer nodded his head, taking another swig of the lukewarm water. He hoped it hadn’t been out for too long, who knew what bacteria were growing if it had. Though the idea of it was a mere whisper in the back of his mind as his entire consciousness was taken up by his worried thoughts. “I should have told you before, I really should have but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.” Penelope sounded dejected. “What happened? Just tell me, please?” He didn’t like how whiny that please sounded, how desperate it made him sound. Even though he was desperate for answers. 

The door to Penelope’s office opened, “Honestly Pen, I don’t get why you have to be so far away from the b-” You stopped your sentence as your eyes met Spencer. He was desperately clinging on to the cup he was holding like it was his life line. “Hi…” was all he managed to say when he saw you. Even with all the conflicting feelings, your appearance still left him a little tongue tied. You weren’t wearing the lab coat, so he could fully appreciate your appearance. The black and red patterned dress was cut low, and hugged your hips and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your arms are covered with fishnet fabric, some parts more ripped up to create a few larger holes. More important to him was the belt, two clips extending to hold the hem, hiking up the skirt of your dress to show off just a sliver of your thigh. “Spencer.” The way you said his name still made his heart race. He got up from his chair, placing the mug back on Penelope’s desk. The blonde in question nudged you, Spencer could almost see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes. You must be just as nervous as he is. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Penelope said, quickly walking out the door of her own space, leaving the two of you there. Spencer’s heart was beating so loud, he could feel the blood rush under the skin of his hands. It was too silent as you both looked at eachother. 

“I want to-” “Why didn’t you-” Both of you spoke at the same time, breaking through the silence. There was a slight, awkward, chuckle that left Spencer. “You can go first.” He said, wringing his hands together involuntarily. “I want to apologize…” You said it softly. Spencer’s eyes flicked down to your right hand, twisting in the fabric of your dress. Your left was steadily turning a ring on your finger. Everything you did screamed nervous to him. “What for?” He asked, eyes focussed on you. He wanted to see everything, piece together every unconscious movement that would give away a deeper meaning. “For being a bit absent. I just… had a lot of work.” Lie. That was a lie. Spencer could see it. The way you averted your eyes, how your hand stilled in the twisting of the ring, your breathing hitched up as you said the last part of your sentence. Everything pointed to it being a lie. He hated that he could see that.

You felt the need to lie to him. To temper his feelings by trying to explain away what had really happened. There were tens of thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind about what could have happened. Did you meet someone else? Or realize he wasn’t your type. The differences being too big to make it work. “Could you tell me the truth?” He didn’t mean for that to come out. Especially when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I am. I was busy, I had a lot of evidence to sort through, drugs, nail scrapings. I also had the reports to write and- and-” You were trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. That hurt. Apparently you didn’t want him to know the real reason. “Y/N. I am a behavioral analyst, I can tell when you lie. Please just… don’t? I want to know what happened, I thought we had a good time at the museum. I just, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, and I can’t change it if you don’t tell me.” He was pleading now. Eyes on you as you looked for an answer, lips slightly parted as you breathed out. Taking a step closer, reaching out his hand to yours. Just to hold it in his, feel you, decide if this was either a bad nightmare or a terrible reality. 

When Spencer felt your hand in his he closed his eyes for a moment. This was real. He opened his eyes again, the only focus was on yours. Waiting. Watching to see your response. “Spencer, it wasn’t anything you did. Trust me. You did nothing wrong, it was perfect, and I wish I could have stayed in that museum forever.” You spoke, not averting your gaze, looking him in the eye with full confidence. Not even a tremor in your voice. That was the truth.

“Then what happened? I don’t like that you’re ignoring me. It feels like just the entire pit of my stomach gave out. Did I move too fast? I’m not good with these things. But I really, really, like you. You do all these things to me. Just… I can’t take the silent treatment. Not from you.” There it was with a sigh. His feelings, out in the open. Hoping it was enough for you to tell him what happened. Instead, you looked sorrowful, eyes almost glossy with what he realized were tears. “I really am sorry. I need time for something. I can’t talk about it now, I don’t want to pull you down with me. I will tell you afterwards, okay?” Your voice did nothing to soothe the pain of rejection he felt. Even though he so wished to believe you. You were hurt too and he didn’t understand why. Because you were the one pushing him away.

Spencer nodded his head dejectedly, a soft sniffle leaving him as he tried to not let the emotions overwhelm him. All the anxiety had left and was replaced by the cold, empty feeling of rejection. His nerve endings were no longer on edge, instead they were rather numb. “I’ll eh… I will go. Leave you to whatever you need to do.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own to him. Like he was running on autopilot and it was a preprogrammed recording. He let go of your hand, taking a deep breath, before he walked to the door. His hand was on the door knob when you called his name, when he looked over his shoulder at you you looked just as dejected. Your lips parted, like you wanted to say something, closing again, opening again. He could see you looking for the right words, but there were none. His lips formed an awkward, tight smile and he nodded. “Text me when you want to talk.” He said before leaving the room.

Closing the door with a hollow sound he took just a few steps before Penelope approached him. “What happened? Are you okay?” her voice concerned and laced with just a little pity. He didn’t need pity right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone. “Could you tell Hotch I need a personal day?” His question got a frantic nod in return. Clearly she understood it wasn’t something good that happened just now. “Yeah, yeah of course. Need anything else?” She answered, trying to be the good friend he always knew she was. He shook his head no, “I just need time.” He spoke softly before walking over to his desk. There was no comment from Derek, just a slight sympathetic look. He hated that.

Grabbing his bag and his jacket he quickly made himself ready to leave. JJ tried to stop him, files in hand ready to ask a question when he ducked his head and continued on. Not willing to talk right now he stepped on the elevator and pressed to go down. Walking out the door and straight to his car in the garage. When he finally reached his car and sat down it all hit him. His stomach felt heavy yet empty, but also like it was twisted in knots. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down a little, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to push them back. There was no need for tears. You went on one date, he shouldn’t be this attached, yet he is. From the moment he had entered your lab he had been awestruck. Then, in the following week, he had started rambling and feared he had messed up by doing so. Yet you just smiled, asked more questions, let him ramble and rant about everything and anything. Content to hear him speak. He didn’t feel like an annoyance.

Spencer sighed, putting his key in the ignition and turning it, the song that came on was still on the same radio station that you had put it on, depeche mode sounding through the speakers. Quickly, his hand reached out, changing the station to anything else. Not wanting to be reminded of you immediately. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving home, a welcome distraction from his thoughts. When he got home though, he felt completely drained. Placing his bag near the front door, dropping the jacket over it. Toeing off his shoes before walking further into the apartment. He sat down on the couch. Once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned his head back, resting it against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes again. Rubbing his eyes with another sigh.

He wondered what it could be. What the reason for your coldness was. The fact that you seemed reluctant about it just made it weirder. He cursed himself for being able to read your expressions, your movements, to deduct anything from your behavior. He wished he didn’t know because it would have made it so much easier to be angry with you. To feel betrayed, led on, or even used. Instead he knew that you were just as torn up about what happened as he was. It made it feel even worse. He knew there was a reason, but the fact you were not willing to tell him hit the wrong nerve. Eyes opened on the ceiling, the faded green color perfect to get lost in. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Head tilted back, looking at the ceiling as his mind was both working over time and thinking of nothing. A weird combination of feeling too full yet completely empty. Watching the shadows stretch further and further, slowly fading until there were no longer any shadows cast on his ceiling. It was just dark. 

That’s what it was like. The night taking over the sunny feeling he had felt. An end coming to the light he had felt for the past two weeks. The nocturnal cold setting into his body. How he hated the realization that dawned on him that moment. He didn’t just like you. He had fallen all at once, during that first meeting, without realizing. Now it was too late to tell you. He doubted you even felt the same. So now he was left to suffer the heartbreak on his own. To deal with the conflicting emotions you left him with. 

At least the night was quiet enough for him to think.

Tag list: @luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95 @jasf444 @queermaxwooo @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #alt reader #goth reader #she blinded me with science #tumblr writer #hurt/comfort #part 5 #multi part fic #spencer reid x goth reader #spencer reid x alt reader

[justmymindandstuff]

Why do you write a hatecomment?

Why do so many people write hate messages here? Especially in the Hotd fandom. I just do not understand. I just keep asking myself why? Really why? I've been in different fandoms since I am 13/14, and I've never, nerver seen so much hate as in the Hotd fandom. I don't post much here, but I love checking out other blogs. I have a few posts about HotD on my blog, a few reblogs and a few from myself. I have post for both teams on my blog. And I don´t have a big blog, still, the number of hate messages I receive is unbelievable. All anonym, of course.

I always delete this kind of messages straight away but I'm slowly getting tired of them. I do not get it. Fandoms and Tumblr are for fun. It's a series/book for heaven's sake! I don't understand the intention behind it. Do you think a hate comment makes someone think, oh right, I don't like this character (in this case Aegon)? Or do you just want to hurt other people?

I just don't understand the thought process behind it. Never in my life have I thought to myself after reading a post: Time to write mean things to this person. It's one thing to disagree with someone's opinion. I understand. Everyone has different opinions and likes certain characters more and dislikes certain characters. But is that enough to write mean, hurtful and sometimes threatening words? No! It's worrying how quickly and easily people write mean messages. It's anonym, so no harm. Wrong! You are hurting the people you write these messages to! Don't you realize that behind every blog there is a real person with feelings?

My mother always used to say if you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything.

Why is this so difficult for some people?

So please if you don't like something, keep scrolling, block the tags and stop sending hate messages to strangers on the internet.

I'm sorry for the fuss, but I'm getting really tired. It's just not fun and that's what every fandom should be about.

How do you deal with hate messages? Do you just delete them or reply?

Please just be kind to each other. The world is so full of hate and anger. Why do you have to make it worse? Please let us have our little corner of the internet where everyone can love what they love and don't get any hate for it.

#fandom #house of the dragon #hotd2 #hotd #team green #team black #game of thrones #no antis here #my thoughts #mindandstuff #bekind

[aidenlydia]

hey ho!! the 09 simon sh anon here (what a weird title. anyways) first of all, thank you for replying! didn't know you hc simon as autistic, which makes him, in a way, even more relatable to me <33

i have another question, this time about simons and johnnys relationship. you mentioned that johnny helps simon cope, especially with his aggression / sh. do you have any specific headcanons how simon does that? do they have any specific rituals for when simon starts struggling? and also, the other way around, when johnny starts struggling with his OCD and depression?

cw: self-harm

Oh boy do I have a lot of thoughts about this. But first some definitions for those who are unfamiliar:

Autistic Meltdown - a intense response to overwhelming stress or dysregulation, leading to loss of control over behavior and difficulty calming down. Common signs include crying, yelling, rocking, pacing, dissociating, intense stimming and aggressive or self-injurious behavior (hitting, biting, kicking).

Shutdown - a form of meltdown where a person becomes extremely still, silent and withdrawn rather than outwardly aggressive.

Stimming - repetition of certain physical movements or vocalizations that autistic people use to calm themselves down or express their feelings.

Intrusive thoughts - unwanted thoughts that pop into one's mind without warning, at any time. They're often repetitive and can be disturbing or distressing.

Obsessions - intrusive thoughts that are hard to manage, get stuck in one's head and have a negative impact on daily life.

Compulsions - repetitive things one feels they have to do (mentally or physically) in order to reduce distress and anxiety caused by obsessions (to make things feel right again). One might know that it doesn't make sense to carry out a compulsion, but is unable to resist doing it.

I think the first step is being patient and not judging each other.

The way Ghost feels during and after a meltdown is complete loss of control, accompanied by shame. That's why SH is so easy to fall back to. It re-establishes some sense of control, which can be both a relief and a punishment at the same time.

Similarly with MacTavish, when his intrusive thoughts get the better of him and he starts spinning his wheels (getting stuck in compulsions and increasingly agitated) he knows he's both out of control and unable to stop it while probably being judged if witnessed.

It boils down to not being understood and feeling like everyone thinks you're crazy. Your self-esteem and sense of belonging take a massive hit. But having someone witness you at such a low point and support you through it, without thinking less of you afterwards, already makes a huge difference.

I don't think MacTavish knows he has OCD, he's probably only aware of the stereotype (obsession with being clean and organized) and thinks of his own symptoms as "a weakness" he needs to hide and overcome by sheer willpower to be able to keep his job and the respect of his colleagues.

Ghost isn't blind to it, he notices a lot of MacTavish's quirks and insecurities that others don't. He takes them seriously, wants to understand and help.

Part of MacTavish's depression is connected to his OCD - it makes him very anxious and tired. If anything goes wrong his depressed mind will find a way to blame himself and his compulsions get worse in response to his new intrusive thoughts/obsessions. Anything can become an obsession and the excessive misery caused by it makes him feel even more depressed. And on it goes.

At first Ghost falls into the trap of wanting to help and relieve MacTavish of some of his distress by accommodating one or more of his compulsions - it seems to make him feel better. However the more you give into compulsions, the stronger they get and end up making the symptoms worse in the long run.

The key to truly support MacTavish is to help him resist his compulsions. Ghost learns firsthand that endorsing the behaviors does more harm than good, including giving reassurance, which is a common symptom of OCD (and the most heartbreaking for both parties. It feels like a rejection to MacTavish and Ghost feels so mean for doing it, but it is for MacTavish's own good).

You can read more about it here: If You Love Someone With OCD, You May Need to Stop Reassuring Them That Everything Is OK

Of course Ghost can still validate his feelings, recognizing how upset it makes MacTavish and remind him to be patient and compassionate with himself while also staying consistent in his encouragement to keep resisting. Instead of trying to make the distress go away, Ghost helps him to accept it and ride it out together. Sometimes while in the thick of it they resort to distraction (doing something else to take his mind off it, which isn't exactly the best go-to coping skill) and physical affection (for emotional support). During a crisis situation Ghost will usually fold and let him give into a compulsion, he still has to learn how to deal with those.

Another thing that helps MacTavish a lot is when Ghost starts telling him about some of his own intrusive thoughts (everyone can have them). It makes him feel less alone/more normal, helps him open up more about his worries and reaffirms his belief that Ghost doesn't think he's crazy or a bad person. Remember, he doesn't know he has OCD yet.

I'm not sure Ghost would know or even suspect he has Autism either, autistic afab kids don't fit the "typical" stereotype and are often overlooked. He probably got called weird and off-putting his entire life, as well as being bullied without even realizing it. He only knows he isn't like the others and prefers to be alone because everyone understands the world and communication in a way he just doesn't.

He embraces his weirdness instead of hiding it, doesn't care if people think his mask is corny or that they should keep their distance from a freak like him. He's tired of not being understood, so he isolates himself and doesn't try to change anyone's mind anymore.

Nobody really gets him until MacTavish. He tends to leave a negative first impression; being perceived as rude, aggressive and disrespectful because of missed social cues. His meltdowns are mistaken for childish tantrums or manipulation. MacTavish can tell he's definitely odd, but he appreciates Ghost's straightforwardness and blunt honesty instead of being offended by it. Ghost responds well to MacTavish because he needs very clear and direct communication without it being condescending and patronizing, which MacTavish is naturally very good at. No mind games, no reading between the lines.

It's also why Ghost doesn't mind taking his mask off in front of him, not only does he trust MacTavish enough to be vulnerable, but he doesn't fear being off-putting or having his facial expressions (or lack thereof) misunderstood. They are similar in that regard, MacTavish has resting angry face and is often mistaken as aggressive, intimidating or confrontational because of it. Ghost sees there's a much more sensitive and thoughtful man underneath the hard exterior.

MacTavish doesn't have much experience with meltdowns, but can tell Ghost isn't escalating on purpose. It starts with Ghost showing signs of anxiety - pacing, rocking or becoming very still and quiet. He tries to calm himself down by fidgeting/stimming, bouncing his leg, grinding his teeth or biting at his lip. Sometimes he will ask repetitive questions, seeking reassurance, or become increasingly nonverbal. He is easily frustrated and has difficulty communicating or expressing himself clearly.

Meltdowns can be triggered by many things at once, a mix of distress intolerance, emotional regulation issues and sensory overloads. Meaning lack of sleep, stress, too many unexpressed emotions, change in routine/big life changes, too much noise, being touched too much, bright lights (that's why he wears sunglasses), too much smell, not getting enough air, ect. It can be completely overwhelming.

MacTavish responds by staying calm and quiet, not talking over Ghost and moving slowly. Any additional stimulus makes the overload worse. He gives Ghost space, doesn't touch him without permission and never punishes him for "losing it" during his meltdown or afterwards. He gets Ghost into a safe, quiet room or place until it's over. Things that help Ghost calm down is silence, a cold compress on his forehead, noise canceling headphones, laying down with the lights out and MacTavish's entire weight laid on top of him or something cold to drink.

After meltdowns Ghost feels exhausted and either needs some time alone to recharge or becomes very clingy for a while. He often doesn't remember what exactly happened and is very self-critical, but MacTavish won't allow him to be ashamed of himself or engage in his typical SH behavior, opting for calming affection and distraction instead.

If Ghost's urge to SH is coming from a place of anger they tear paper in little pieces together, go for a run or exercise. If it's from sadness they hold each other, listen to music, let MacTavish massage him or get out into nature. If it's from feeling numb, he's allowed to flick an elastic band on his wrists or hold ice cubes.

To prevent a meltdown or SH the trigger needs to be recognized early enough to be either removed in time or given a coping strategy. They develop a code sign for Ghost to use when he feels unstable, so MacTavish can help him regulate or get him away to somewhere quiet where they can properly communicate. The more Ghost trusts him, the easier it is for Ghost to communicate and disclose his distress. When Ghost becomes nonverbal they either write or speak in sign language to navigate the situation.

After leaving the military they struggle more with their relationship and gain a deeper understanding of each other by finally getting diagnosed. They end up going to therapy together where they learn how to properly manage MacTavish's compulsions and get him treatment for depression. They develop relationship strategies and identify Ghost's meltdown and SH triggers as well.

I think this is a good place to stop for now. Perhaps one day I'll get into my DID Ghost headcanon/ideas, but my fingers hurt from typing so it will have to wait lmao

This is a continuation from a previous post

#cw sh #09 soapghost #09 ghost #captain mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #headcanon

[boxheadpaint]

the problem with my last post on the subject was listing a bunch of pieces i already knew and not being specific enough to say 'im looking for something of similar feeling but lesser known'.

im specifically looking for unique "analog" or just video youtube horror that i Havent already heard of. something that doesnt rely exclusively on creepy photoshop face and text to speech voice with the same general idea as any other series. if you know something thats quite good and interesting but you dont see as many people talking about thats the recommendation im looking for

morley grove - from the creator of gemini, incredibly strong. plays with older internet, older youtube and geocities type of personal websites. things that dont jump you right out the blue but continuously build dread. things that are hidden even, implied to be something much worse than you can understand and allowing your mind to run wild. very good, but on hold Along with gemini due to the creators computer problems.

1990s lost media: obscure security system - only one video at the current time sadly, as it is a very good video. plays out plainly like a windows movie maker piece, and once again its only showing you a Part of whats happening. theres startling noises, but not without proper buildup or reason. again strange implications that make you actually Think about whats going on. funnily enough, actually had a nightmare based on this one after watching it. Extremely well done

countess pasta - moreso original writing and readings as opposed to visual storytelling. if you were ever into thelittlefears and still yearn for something that captures that same feeling, take a listen to countess pasta's videos. there also seems to be some kind of overarching plot that could tie the stories together, but even listening to them on their own is a treat. her selection of work is impeccable and anxiety-inducing, well thought-out and refreshing in the current climate of creepypasta readings

Minecraft alpha 1.0.16 versions - hard to describe, more mystery than horror but still unnerving. INCREDIBLY beautifully done and written. teases with the idea that things haunting your minecraft world may not be supernatural or truly sinister in nature, yet still a glimpse into a stranger world seemingly lost to time. remembered this one at the last second

if theres any other videos or series you feel arent discussed as widely as some others, something obscure and slash or of great quality, feel free to put it directly in my eyes

[mixelation]

oh, i wrote this last night. reborn au, tori immediately after she ~trains with the hokage~

Tori staggered into the jounin breakroom feeling vaguely like she’d just walked directly through a tornado and came out alive only by some act of god. There were a handful of other people scattered across the tables in the room, including Kakashi. He snapped his copy of Icha Icha closed as soon as Tori stepped in. 

She’d only ever seen Kakashi in the breakroom a handful of times, and each time he’d been there specifically to harass someone. She turned her back on him and headed over to the kitchenette along the far wall. Kakashi stood and waltzed over to her, somehow giving off both the air of being lazy and of being a cat stalking a mouse.

“Well?” Kakashi said, and she could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice even if she couldn’t see it. “How was it?”

Tori grabbed a cup from the drying rack and stepped around Kakashi to shove it under the hot water dispenser. A nice, soothing cup of tea would be great right now. 

“You can tell me,” Kakashi said, selecting a tea bag from the basket at the end of the kitchenette’s bench for her. “We’re definitely full siblings now. Who else will understand?”

He offered her the tea bag. It was chamomile and lavender. Tori accepted it begrudgingly. 

“It was confusing and humiliating,” Tori said through gritted teeth. 

“Sounds about right,” Kakashi said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you feel like a genin right after your first mission?”

Tori dunked the tea bag a few times and pouted. 

“....yes,” she admitted. 

Kakashi leaned over her, the outline of his shit-eating grin just barely visible in the room’s fluorescent lighting. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, just shy of mocking. 

“....no,” Tori muttered into her tea. 

Fifteen minutes later, Kakashi was buying her a drink at a noisy bar and trying very hard not to laugh at her. 

“I just don’t think it’s fair,” Tori rambled. “Do you know how many heavy-hitters I’ve sparred with? I thought I was immune to embarrassment by now. I thought I was done with it. What the fuck did I just do?”

“Did he smile and tell you a good job anyway?” Kakashi asked. 

“That’s the worst part,” Tori said, burying her face in her hands. “He was nice the entire time.”

Kakashi patted her shoulder. “It’s only going to get worse.”

"What do you mean?" Tori asked, her face falling. "How?!"

#reborn au

[slytherhys]

June in January (Because I'm in Love)

Prompt: Powers & Possibilities (but make it Witchy!) @elriel-month

A/N: So I've had this AU in my mind for a really long time and I thought it'd be perfect for this prompt. It is kinda different from how I usually write so please bear with me. I hope I managed to make it at the very least a cute read! Enjoy 🌼

TW: Swearing, Blood and Violence (mentioned because Az is an idiot!)

You can also read this story on AO3!

The first time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, it’s against his will.

For starters, he has never been a fan of witches – not of their unrestrained power and certainly not of their blood-drinking habits. He is also a firm believer that, despite Mor’s insistence, Madja would’ve been perfectly able to fix him up with whatever medicine she usually gave Cassian whenever he got punched in the face.

But after a sparring session gone wrong, a vicious hit to the face that takes both him and Cassian by surprise, and a pounding headache only made worse by Cassian’s incessant bragging about knocking out the Shadowsinger for the first time in centuries, Azriel barely bats an eye when Mor presses a piece of parchment to his hand and nearly forces him to visit her dear friend.

“You can thank me later.” She says with an impish smile. “Preferably with chocolates.”

Azriel doesn’t bother asking any questions – namely, who her friend is. Or rather what . With a nasty black eye, a bruised ego and absolutely no desire to take part in any small talk with a stranger, he simply goes, dazed, and confused as to how the fuck he let himself be punched in the face by Cassian, of all people.

But when he first gets there, he has to wonder if Mor is pranking him. 

The cottage is covered in ivy, idyllic enough that one could think it actually belongs to the landscape where it stands. The garden surrounding him is an array of colours and scents, neatly organised by a logic Azriel does not pretend to understand. It looks innocent enough, all things considered.

But something in him goes still as he takes in the landscape in front of him. His eyes narrow as he watches the flowers sway softly in the cool January breeze. They’re beautiful and fragrant and would raise absolutely no suspicion on any other given day – if not for the fact they were in full bloom despite it being the middle of winter.

And then he sees it – a plain, wooden sign, the lettering a loopy cursive that speaks of lovely, gentle things. If it wasn’t for what they spell out, of course.

Elain’s Herbs & Potions

His entire body goes cold, and it speaks of his self-control that Azriel doesn’t shoot to the skies without a glance back. Because he knows –vividly remembers – all the tales of witches he grew up hearing about. Of their all-seeing eyes and their crooked smiles that promised nothing but pain and horror. The tales of their rituals and tricks not even the most cunning soldier could escape. Even Rhys, for all his powers and smarts, has never showed much interest in coming across a witch.

He's wondering why, exactly, Mor ever thought it’d be a good idea to send him here when he sees her.

The first thing he notices, oddly enough, is how small she is. After living next to Amren for most of his life, Azriel is not foolish enough to ever think that a sign of weakness, but it intrigues him all the same. Then, he’s utterly aware of how she doesn’t look anything like what he thought she’d look like. There’s no yellowed teeth, no wispy, greying hair, no soulless eyes.

Instead, all he sees is long, golden-brown hair and chocolate eyes. A yellow dress that compliments her tanned skin and red cheeks and speaks of warmer, sunnier days. She’s carrying a wicker basket overflowing with flowers, but the scent that trails after her is all her – sweet and sour, and Az feels his legs nearly giving out from under him, it’s probably completely unrelatable.

Elain , he assumes, and never a name has ever sounded so sweet.

When she looks up and spots him, she smiles, as if she was waiting for him and is pleased to see he's finally here. His heart tumbles inside his chest and he tells himself it’s because he’s in the presence of a witch – not because he’s suddenly wanting things he’s never wanted before.

She eyes him curiously and he has

to stop himself from asking her what’s on her mind, even if it suddenly feels

like the most important thing he’s ever needed to know.

“Can I help you?” She asks sweetly. Her voice echoes through him, and something inside him settles. He, however, can’t bring himself to speak, swallowing dryly as he stares and stares and stares . The woman - Elain ,

he thinks with delight - tilts her head, furrowing her brow as her chocolate

eyes trace his face. “That doesn’t look good.” She mutters and Azriel has to

remind himself of the reason he’s here in the first place.

“A fight.” He says oh-so-eloquently , and he’s surprised she doesn’t seem alarmed in

the slightest by his response. As if, perhaps, this is a normal occurrence for

her. He doesn’t know why that bothers him, but it does. 

Elain, oblivious to his nonsensical thoughts, simply nods and turns on her feet, disappearing inside her cottage without another word. Azriel remains where he is, unsure of what to do. All of a sudden, he can’t recall why he ever feared witches in the first place, why he ever believed the tales his brothers told him in the middle of the night when they were too young to know any better. 

And fuck if they knew any better. 

It takes the pretty witch less than five minutes to return, this time carrying a small basket in her hands, each one of her steps a small symphony of bottles clicking against each other until she’s standing in front of him. He looks down at the basket with intrigue and pretends that her closeness isn’t making his skin tingle. He listens carefully as she explains – a bit shyly, Azriel notices with satisfaction – how he must apply the green ointment to his bruises, at what time he must drink the periwinkle potion and how many times a day the white paste must be applied to reduce the swelling of his cheek.

When he nods in thanks and turns to leave, it’s entirely too soon and a pang echoes through his body as he desperately tries to come up with ways of prolonging his stay but comes up empty instead. His skin feels too tight, his cheeks too hot, his hands too clammy. He vaguely wonders if he’s running a fever - if maybe he can ask her for a cure for that as well. 

She walks by his side until they’re standing on the limits of her property, like maybe she doesn't want him to leave just yet either. He feels oddly mislaid; uncertain of what to do and who to be. All his convictions turn into ash and suddenly there’s only one thing he knows for sure: he’s going to have to get punched again, because there’s not a chance in this world he isn’t seeing Elain again.

“Who won?” Azriel turns to her as she asks, confusion clear on his face. Elain, not one to be put off by his silence, clarifies, “The fight.”

Azriel chuckles softly. “Not me.”

She frowns like she's not entirely happy with his response. “Well, make sure you win next time. Okay?” 

But the second time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage, just on the outskirts of Velaris, Elain greets him with a brilliant smile, not disappointed in the slightest to see him sporting a new bruise and a busted lip.

It shouldn’t surprise him how beautiful she looks, but he still is taken aback when he first sees her. Her hair is tumbling down her back in a messy braid, a too-big straw hat on her head and a small streak of dirt on her cheek that she probably isn’t aware of. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun, her blue dress reminds him of ripe blueberries, and the way it sways with her every step reminds him of flying in the summer breeze.

This time around, there’s no doubt in his mind he’s right where he should be. A familiar feeling of contentment rushes through his body, as if after weeks of waiting to see her, he can finally let himself relax and enjoy this small moment of reprieve (and really, who can blame him for wanting to get punched again?).

When Elain asks him what happened this time around, Azriel doesn’t dare tell her he made sure to pick Rhys during this week’s sparring session; that he made sure the most powerful High Lord in history punched him just in the right place so that he could bust his lip open. He doesn’t tell her about the confused look on his friend’s face as Azriel smiled maniacally when he felt the blood on his lips, nor does he tell her he tried to go for a broken nose instead so that maybe she would touch him too.

He simply smiles sheepishly at the pretty witch and utters something about distractions, making her blush under his stare as she turns around and scolds him for being so careless, all the while making a package of too many potions he doesn’t entirely need. (He still hasn’t used up all the old ones, but he doesn't tell her that either).

When Elain finally turns to him, her eyes drop to his lips and Azriel feels fire licking up at his spine. She watches him with curiosity and something else lingering in those cinnamon eyes. Amusement, perhaps?

For a brief, panicky moment, he wonders if she can see right through him. As it is, Azriel doesn’t exactly know where her power lies, and for all he knows every lie, every excuse is pointless in the presence of this witch.

Elain, however, doesn’t seem too concerned by his lies. “What is your favourite fruit?” She asks instead, eyes flickering to his as if nervous to see his reaction. 

Azriel tucks away his puzzlement and says, “Blueberries,” pretending the whole time it’s not only because of the colour of her dress. She nods once, as if the answer satisfies her, and hands him the basket.

“Be careful, okay?” She tells him in that honeyed voice and Azriel can think of nothing else to say, so he nods and leaves without a glance back.

He pretends he doesn’t miss her the entire flight back home.

The third time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he is greeted by a brilliant smile that sends his heart racing inside his chest. Elain, still bent over a shrub, tells him about the new batch of healing potions she’s been perfecting so he can try them, and he tries not to show just how pleased he is that she has been thinking about him, waiting for him to return. She doesn’t ask him about his bandaged shoulder and Azriel doesn’t tell her about the lecture he got from Rhys once the High Lord of the Night Court realised what was going on.

“These ones taste like blueberries.” She says, handing him three new potions he’s never seen before. He frowns slightly. “They’re your favourite.” She explains, and the expectant smile on her face makes it impossible for him to come clean. He isn’t even sure he likes blueberries, but he thanks her anyway and smiles the whole way home.

The fourth time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he has just returned from a mission abroad. When she hears the rustle of his wings, she turns to him with that brilliant smile of hers. To her credit, she doesn’t stop smiling when he sees the heavy expression on his face. She simply stands up, holds his hand, and leads him to a wooden bench under a willow tree behind her house.

They sit there for hours, without a word ever being spoken. He doesn’t know how Elain knows he doesn’t wish to speak, but he’s thankful all the same.

When he returns home, he doesn’t take any potions with him, but nevertheless something inside him feels mended; lighter than it has ever felt before. For a quiet, lovely moment he wonders if maybe he’s worthy of having his hands held despite the scars marring his skin and the idea of such a life follows him all the way home.

The fifth time Azriel returns to Elain’s cottage, nothing seems to be amiss - both Cassian and Rhysand refuse to fight him (since Rhysand promptly forbade them), and Azriel can’t seem to find any more excuses to see her again. Until he realises he doesn’t need them anymore.

As he flies to her house, a million scenarios rush through his mind as he wonders how she’ll react. If she’ll welcome him with her beaming smile, watching him as if she’d been waiting for him all along or if instead, she’ll find it so weird to find him uninjured she’ll send him on his way the second she understands why, exactly, he’s there. Azriel isn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be so lucky, but he wants to brave enough to find out.

He finds sitting in the middle of the daisies, looking for all the world like she has been painted into the landscape to make it all the more appealing. When she sees him, a smile lights up her face, eyes taking him in as he walks her way and Azriel isn’t entirely sure why, but every single doubt tainting his mind melts away into a puddle at the expression on her face.

Elain doesn’t say a word. She simply waits, rising to her feet and watching him with an expectant look in her eyes.   

“I don’t need anything today.” He says by way of greeting, and she gives him a tentative smile. 

“But you’re here.” She says gingerly, not a trace of confusion on her face.

Which makes him confused in return. “I am.” He says, and Elain chuckles, the sound low and so sweet, so perfect his heart nearly leaps from his chest to try and catch the sound. He can’t stop watching her as certainty settles deep into his bones.

Elain blows a breath like she’s finally had enough of his silence. Her cheeks pinken under his stare but she isn’t deterred. “Are you finally going to ask me out, Azriel?” She asks a bit exasperatedly. “Or is the Shadowsinger going to keep getting his ass handed to him until he finds the courage?”

He’s speechless for one second. Two. Three. He vaguely thinks of Mor and how she described Elain as her dear friend . And then he’s wondering if he’s truly that transparent and if she’s known what he had been doing all along – gathering the courage to kiss her, have her in any way he can get.

And then he’s not wondering anymore - he’s pulling her into his arms instead, kissing her until they both can’t breathe, until the sun falls behind the trees, until the cool breeze of January makes Elain shiver in his arms, reminding them of where they are. That, despite the blooming garden and the warmth of their kiss, it’s still January and there’s an entire world out there waiting for them to start the rest of their lives.

But none of it seems to matter as Elain pulls away from him, never letting go of his hand as she asks, “Do you want to come inside?”

And later that night, when the colours of dawn chase away the darkness of the night, with Elain sleeping soundly against his chest, Azriel smiles, shaking his head in disbelief.

Because he now owes Mor a very big fucking box of chocolates.

#elriel month 2024 #elrielmonth2024 #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #my writing #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #acotar #pro elriel #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #idiots in love #witchy!elain #idiot!azriel

[caffeinatedseagull]

STAYs really need to get a grip.

Alright? Bc their behaviour recently is *not* okay.

Little gift before I begin my Ted Talk

Alright let’s begin.

I’m talking about the reporter incident.

We all know about how there was a racist photographer who was making rude remarks towards Stray Kids at the Met Gala.

Let me get one thing straight, the man is a jerk. I’m not saying you can’t hold him accountable. *Absolutely* hold him responsible and tell him his actions were not okay. Give him backlash for it.

But hacking the man’s personal website and leaking his home address everywhere on the internet is NOT okay. And it’s illegal.

Listen, SKZ themselves have said and done racist things in the past. They were held accountable, they apologized for a lot of the things.

No one hacked the JYPe website, people didn’t spread their dorm address across comment sections and posts.

And you know why?

Because that’s not appropriate behaviour for the situation.

Doxxing a jerk does not make you a hero.

Racism is a massive issue, and the guy 100% needs to be held accountable, but that is VERY different from what STAYs are doing right now.

Because do you think all this is going to make him apologize? Do you think he will understand why he shouldn’t do what he did?

No. If anything it will solidify and strengthen his beliefs.

Chan’s room was cancelled because of behaviour like this, y’all aren’t just hurting STAY’s image.

I get wanting to protect your faves, but y’all need to remember how big the fandom is.

There are *millions* of us.

Hate spreads like wildfire, and we are Australia.

Take a minute, let yourself calm down. Think for a little bit. And then you can act.

Bc y’all are causing damage, and it’ll only get worse as the fandom grows. Others are going to see that hate and hop on the bandwagon.

If you want to protect SKZ, first you have to save them from yourself.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, have a lovely day!

TLDR: We need to get a set of fandom rules in place.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #chans room #han jisung #met gala #yang jeongin #lee know #lee felix #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #rambles #sorry for the rant

[multifandomfanatic02]

𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 :: angel dust x gn reader (platonic!!)

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 :: you are co workers with angel dust who comes to the rescue in a difficult time. although it seems he needed it too.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 :: minimal talk of sexual abuse, soft angel dust, comforting, angel crying.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 :: 1k words

What on God's green Earth did you do to deserve this? In all of the 30 something years you spent in life, nothing you did warranted such treatment. No matter what anybody did, this was never a punishment anyone deserved. In a way though, you brought on yourself you thought. To sign a contract in Hell and think nothing of it simply because the demon was.. hmm.. what's the word. Entrancing. He was good at was he does.

Upon entering Hell, you were greeted with a sultry voice with a lovely Hispanic accent. He had offered you a job and a place to stay. He surely didn't look like the villain type, and at the time, he didn't sound like it either so it made it easy to sign your soul away.

However this impulsive decision of yours soured almost immediately after. You had been forced into prostitution and porn. Anytime you didn't pay your dues, things only got worse for you. Why didn't you think to ask what kind of job you were taking? But this is how it was down here. There were no laws no rules. No one had a moral code anymore. All you are allowed to think about down here is how to survive. You do what you must. No matter the cost.

Day after day, you drowned yourself in drugs and alcohol. At home, of course. Unlike some you knew at work, you distanced yourself from sex and intimacy from others. This made it hard to connect with others. You surely craved it though. To be understood and seen as a person rather than a toy. Thoughts like these came on the days you were sober.

You had been working for Valentino for several, several years now. You had seen people come and go either succumbing to the abuse and mistreatment and offing themselves or being fired because they did poorly for Val's ratings which often meant being killed by the Vee's. There was one soul that had been there longer than even you. And actually still the most desirable porn star there is, Angel Dust.

You admired him. Not necessarily because of his work but just because of how he's still standing.

While Angel resorted to the same coping mechanisms you did, he had friends to support and be there for him when he needed. So despite everything he's enduring, he managed to rehabilitate himself essentially. And that.. that was impressive and admirable.

You never talked to him before though you both would just exchange sympathetic eyes towards each other. It wasn't until you hit your breaking point that you had your first real interaction and my, did you need it.

You had been sitting at a bus stop for an hour, the acidic rain making you pull your feet into the bench to not get drenched or burnt. It was quiet outside, due to the rain there was no one in sight. It was just you and your thoughts. Tears spilled from your eyes as your arms wrapped around your knees. Holding things in for a long time will do this to ya. Make you break in public, how inconvenient.

click, clack, click

The sound of high heels approaching broke you out of your depression trance.

"Mind if I join ya?"

"Angel Dust?" You scooted over a little to give him some room.

"The one and only." Angel sat down next to you folding his umbrella and setting it to the side. Not much was said initially but it wasn't like an awkward silence. More of an, understanding. "Ya know, it won't be like this forever." He placed one of his hands on your back. It was a gentle touch, not like what you were used to at work. It was.. calming. It let you take a real deep breath in what actually felt like forever.

"Oh yeah? That pink chain still around your neck seems to disagree with you." You didn't mean to be snappy at him, the statement just felt like a stab wound. Thankfully, Angel didn't take it personally it seems because all he could do was laugh.

"Oh don't ya worry about that. I'll find a way to break the contract one way or another." His gaze softened as he turned to you, lifting your chin up to look at him. "Sorry, I ain't good at comfortin' others. But I want ya to know that I'm here for ya if needed. " You raised your eyebrow in response.

"It's a pain in tha ass. Ya know.. dealing with Val." Angel took a deep breath and relaxed his own shoulders. He himself never really had anyone to connect with, well not someone who understood what he went through. Someone whom felt the same way about his situation. All your other co-worker's saw each other as competition. You never really blamed them though. If anyone's popularity dropped, they were punished. You were all just trying survive after all. "Why don't ya come and live with us at tha hotel. We're always lookin for new sinners to help. And Charlie.. well, they are pretty damn good at it."

Silenced filled the streets once again as the mood changed. Angel's smooth facade dropped, letting his emotions out in the open. His own tears dripped on to his thighs, alerting you in surprise. While you never KNEW Angel, he was a very good actor and managed to keep up the proud pornstar schtick for all the years you have known of him. This was a first for the both of you.

"I'm sorry for lettin go like this. It's just all too much. I- I never wanted to be this way. You grabbed Angel's hand tightly and looked up at him.

"You don't have to explain yourself. Not to me. I know." A breath of relief from Angel as he wiped around his eyes. "And you know what, I think I'll take up that offer. Say.. I heard there was a hot daddy of a bartender, is that true?" You nudged Angel suggestively with your hip and grinned at him.

A look of shock appeared on his face as he frantically tried to look anywhere else but your eyes. This was quite an astounding reaction considering the business that you two have to deal with on a daily basis. Angel flustered from an innocent joke?

"I'd absolutely love to tell ya about everyone." He stood up and dusted off his short dress before opening the umbrella, inviting you underneath it. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

𝒂/𝒏 :: I've been wanting to do this type of story for angel dust for a while. I wanted it to be like our comfort character, one whom we resonate a bit too much, was actually talking to us in a comforting manner. It's not my best work in my opinion but it still means a lot to me. And for those who get it, you matter. Your feelings matter. Regardless of how you cope with it.

#angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust angst #angel dust fluff #angel dust #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #x reader

[heizlut]

So This is Love

cw: angst/misunderstandings

tags: fem!reader from natlan, kaeya being kaeya, angst/comfort/smut, diluc is heavily mentioned, venti and jean are also mentioned, mostly proofread

a/n: don't ask how many words this is, it's a lot😅

m!list here

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

Kaeya would do anything for you, why couldn't you just see that? He didn't understand since he had been so attentive towards you, even after that one night where he witnessed something from outside the window of Angel's Share that made him feel too many emotions at once. Was he just not enough for you? Did you move on? Even worse, did you truly choose Diluc? These thoughts consume him constantly and tear at his aching heart.

So, in this moment, Kaeya is standing there soaked from the pouring rain in front of your door as you look up at him with a mix of confusion and concern. His gaze full of turmoil as he stares down into your eyes, seemingly unfazed by how the rain continues to pelt his tanned skin and drench him completely. "Please... Will you please listen to me?", his voice is soft but with so much desperation and heartache.

But how did you two even get to this point? Had things always been this way? No, they hadn't. And Kaeya was more determined than ever to have you by his side.

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Being in Mondstadt was certainly quite the culture shock for you since you had come from Natlan. Mondstadt was a far-cry from the scorching heat and endless wars that consumed your nation. Everything here was so peaceful and freeing. There seemed to be no archon ruling over the place finding joy in calling for constant war between its people. In fact, the archon seemed largely absent here but many people still held faith for him.

It was...nice. You felt like you could breathe without smelling the stench of death and fire. You certainly turned heads when you arrived here since you did not look like the people who resided in this nation nor did you dress like them. Maybe if you had gone to Sumeru instead, less heads would have turned at your appearance, but you wanted to get as far from Natlan as possible.

The guards at the gates leading in Mondstadt City looked at you warily while you looked at them with curiosity. "Who are you and what is your purpose here?", one of the guards spoke. You blink a couple of times as your brain processes the language difference and makes the switch to their tongue, "I'm here for refuge." The two men cast sideways glances at each other before looking back at you, "And how long do you plan on staying?" You frowned slightly as you thought, "For as long as I can."

The guards looked skeptical of you and one narrowed their eyes at you as he spoke, "Come with me. I'll escort you to the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius where you can meet with the Acting Grandmaster." Just as he turned around to lead you, Venti seemed to pop out of nowhere with a bright smile and curious eyes, "Who's this?" The guard jumped, startled by Venti's sudden appearance and put a hand to his chest to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest from the innocent scare, "Gah!" He clicked his tongue, "If it isn't Venti the bard... We have someone new here and I was going to escort them to the Knights Headquarters."

You looked at Venti curiously, trying to figure out if he was someone you could trust. It was a habit you didn't think you would be rid of anytime soon. But he only smiled happily at you then back at the guard, "Let me take her. I have nothing else going on right now." The guard hesitated for a moment, then released a deep, defeated sigh, "Fine. I shouldn't leave my post anyways." Venti's bright smile seemed to get even brighter at his relentence. He looked back to you, "Come and follow me!" You only shrugged and began to follow after him.

Walking through the main city beside Venti, you felt many eyes on you. Some wary of you while others just looked on in curiosity. Maybe they would relax if you had walked with a small smile on your face, but alas, resting bitch face was your default unless you were among close friends (which you could count on only one hand). Venti chattered away endlessly as you followed him as if he had known you for ages, but you hardly listened. The only thing that caught your attention was the towered statue of the nations archon. You paused as Venti continued to speak, until he shortly noticed you had stopped, "Huh? Is something wrong?" Your eyes go from the statue to him, back and forth a couple of times before you finally spoke, "Do your people not realize that you are their archon? Why do they call you the bard and seem to disregard you?"

Venti's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, "Oh... That's um..." You raised a brow at him, "Why do you hide your identity?" Venti paused again, but recovered by clearing his throat, "I would rather the people have full freedom then feel the need to bow down to me, I don't want to go into details." You simply regarded his words with a shrug, "Well, that's your choice, I guess." Venti blinked at your nonchalant acceptance but quickly smiled his usual bright smile, "Anyways, that's enough of that tour. I'll take you to the Knights of Favonius headquarters now."

It wasn't long before you both arrived to HQ and entered through the grand double doors. Venti approached the first door on the left, "And this is Acting Grandmaster Jean's office." Venti stepped aside to allow you to enter first, but before you hand could even turn to handle, the door flew open. A hard mass ran into you and the next thing you knew, you were on the ground. Your nose scrunched up from the fall and a smooth voice sounded out, "Oh my! I am so sorry. Please, let me..." The voice trailed off as you looked up at the source.

Light periwinkle eye met yours. You studied the tall tanned man before you as he looked at you, not with wariness, but with pure awe. Venti stared at the interaction and then let out a light knowing giggle which snapped both you and the man out of it. The man cleared his throat and held out his hand out towards you and you took it. After you were pulled back to your feet, the man gave you a charming smile, "The name's Kaeya. Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius." His smooth voice made you feel as though you were being wrapped up in a soft blanket. "I'm y/n", you replied then looked down at where his hand was still holding yours, "You can let go now..."

Kaeya's cheeks reddened immediately and he let go of your hand, letting out an awkward laugh, "Sorry about that." A blonde woman peeked behind Kaeya's shoulder, "And who might this be?" Kaeya stepped aside to allow both you and Jean to get a better look at each other and Venti spoke up, "She's new here and will be staying here for awhile." Jean smiled softly at you, "Then, please, come in. We can discuss any questions you might have and I'll find you a good place to stay while you're here." With that, you entered her office and discussions began.

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After Jean had escorted you to your new home, you were finally alone again. You laid flat on your back against the small, soft twin-sized bed as you stared up at the wooden ceiling. "Things will be different now... Things will be better... At least I hope so...", you spoke aloud to noone. Since it had become late in the day and you were too exhausted to prepare a meal for yourself or purchase clothes that better with this nation, you resigned yourself to head to the tavern Venti spoke so highly of.

Making your way through town as the sun hung low in the sky that casted pink and purple hues over everything, you push open the door to Angel's Share and were instantly greeted with music from a bard you didn't know and drunk patrons laughing and talking loudly throughout the cozy space. Your eyes drifted over to the bar where you spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man with fiery red hair. Your heart instantly jumped in your chest at the sight of a familiar hair color that the majority of your nation bore. He made you feel a small comfort with something so familiar.

Without much thought, you strode over to where he was and sat on one of the bar stools that creaked slightly underneath you. The sound caught the man's attention, he paused his wiping of the drinking glass he had been cleaning as his crimson eyes met yours, "What can I get for you?" His voice was deep and almost monotonous, but there was a sense of comfort tied to it. He studied you with a brief curiosity before he apparently decided your different appearance didn't matter to him.

"I'll take a Queimada", you replied instantly earning you a quirked brow from the man. "Apologies, but we don't serve that here. From that choice though, you must be from Natlan, correct?", his question wasn't wary, simply curious as he took in your appearance yet again. You nodded once, "That's right." There was a bit of an awkward pause that the man had no intention of filling, so you were the first to break it, "I'll just take what specialty you serve here." With a nod, he made your drink and set it down in front of you, the golden liquid looked bright and sweet, "Enjoy."

You took a sip and it wasn't long before you had downed 3 more glasses of what you learned to be dandelion wine. You finally cracked a little smile at the brooding man and introduced yourself, to which he finally casted a glance your way for the first time in a while, "I'm Diluc, the owner of Dawn Winery and Angel's Share." His response was gruff though you could tell he meant no harm by it. You both had been fine with the silence between the two of you as you drank what he served you, but with the alcohol that buzzed beneath your skin, you longed for more conversation. Before further conversation could ensue, you heard a familiar sing-song voice calling out to you, "Y/n! Come join us!"

Diluc groaned which made you turn to see the one who called out to you. It was no other than Venti who sat with a smirking Kaeya. You quirked a brow at Diluc to which he gave you a defeated and narrowed look, "Those two cause too much disturbance. It would best if you didn't get too wrapped up with them." But you being you, took that as a bit of challenge, "I can handle it." Diluc rolled his eyes at your response and didn't spare you a second glance as you strolled over to the two men who desired your presence.

Kaeya got up and pulled the chair out for you. One corner of your lips curled up as you gave him a teasing look, "Such a gentleman." He bowed dramatically, playing along, "Of course, my dear~" This display pulled a laugh from you that caused Kaeya to feel a tug on his heart, but he hid it behind a cheeky smile and sat down when you did as well. The night went on and whenever Kaeya got up to retrieve more drinks for both you and Venti, the girls seemed to flock to him. You couldn't help but watch as he never turned down flirtations from the girls and expertly charmed them in return.

You weren't close enough to Kaeya to feel any sort of jealousy, but part of you silently admitted you hated what you saw. That small part of you hoped he treated you and only you like that. What a silly thought to have for someone you had just met earlier that day... Without your knowing, Venti took in your very subtle disheartened look whenever Kaeya charmed someone else. Not that he would particularly do anything with this new information, but he didn't like seeing you unhappy.

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Weeks seemed to pass by quicker than you had expected. Some of the people of Mondstadt were still wary of you and kept their distance, not that you particularly cared much. You were happy with your small group of people you were now considering your friends that consisted of Kaeya, Venti, Diluc, and Jean. You remember being with Jean when you decided you should probably purchase clothes that better fit with the style of Mondstadt. You looked at her as if she were crazy when she came over to your place and handed you an off-the-shoulder long sleeve top, a brown corset, and dark green pants.

She insisted that you put it on and relented with a heavy sigh, going into your bathroom and changing. When you stepped out in the new outfit, Jean looked so proud, "Come on. You should be out and about in this!" You felt awkward leaving your home in an outfit that felt foreign to you, but when the two of you came across Kaeya by the fountain in the center of the city, you felt differently. Jean looked up at him expectantly, "Welllll? What do you think?"

Kaeya stood there stunned at the way you looked. His eye trailed your figure, taking in the swell of the top of your breasts and the way the corset hugged your figure tightly and oh... the pants.... He felt his cock twitch involuntarily and a slight blush crept to his tanned cheeks, "You look more beautiful than ever." You weren't entirely sure of how genuine his words were since the tone of his voice was the same tone he used to charm every other woman who approached him with flirtatious intentions. That small part of you whispered to you that you wanted him to only say those words to you in such a tone, but you knew from what you had observed, that wouldn't ever be likely. Kaeya seemed to belong to everyone.

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As months passed, you felt yourself longing for Kaeya's attention, but he always seemed just out of your grasp even if he spent most of his free time with you and the others. You knew it seemed foolish to have that desire, but you couldn't help how you felt towards him. You two had grown quite close and even shared moments where you felt as though he felt the same way towards you.

One memory you can recall of such an instance is when he insisted on walking you home late at night after quite a few rounds of drinks. The warm air felt comfortable as it brushed through your hair and his as you both walked. The streets were mostly quiet besides the sounds of frogs croaking somewhere in the distance and bugs singing their nightly songs. There was a brief moment in which your hand brushed against his and you muttered a quick apology. Kaeya chuckled softly in response and told you it was fine.

Part of you wished you were brave enough to just take his hand in yours, but instead you were a coward. Once you reached your doorstep, you turned and looked up at Kaeya who gave a soft smile down at you, "Goodnight. Sleep well." His voice and the way he looked at you made you want so much more. You stood there lost in him, wishing he would kiss you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Kaeya tilted his head ever-so slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and lowered his voice, "Are you alright?" You blinked and gave a half-hearted smile, "I'm fine. Must've just had too much to drink..." Kaeya visibly relaxed at your answer, "Well, have a good night then. I should be going now." You kept your half-hearted smile, "Yeah. Goodnight, Kaeya." He gave one more soft smile and turned, walking away into the night.

Another memory you were quite fond of was another time were it had been just you and Kaeya. You were sitting on the edge of Starsnatch Cliff letting your legs dangle as the wind threaded through your hair. "Need some company?" a smooth voice spoke out to you. You turned your head to see a smirking Kaeya approaching. You gave him a slight smile in return and he sat down next to you. His shoulder brushed against yours, but neither of you moved away at the feeling.

Kaeya broke the peaceful silence between you, "Do you come here often?" You barked out a laugh that turned into genuine laughter, “Does that line usually work for you?" Kaeya raised a brow at your response, but once the realization struck him he laughed, "I've never had to use that line before, so you tell me..." He gently grasped your chin and leaned in dangerously close with a smirk, his voice lowered, "Did it work?"

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned crimson at the closeness and the gesture. You quickly came back to yourself and swatted his hand away, turning you face back to the sprawling view in front of you, "You'll have to try a little harder. Lines like that don't work on me." Kaeya looked amused but also faced to view that captured your attention and spoke nonchalantly, "Guess I'll have to be better next time."

Later that evening, you came home to find three cecelias tied together on a blue string with a little note that read: Hopefully this is an improvement from cheesy pick-up lines. Your heart skipped a beat. This certainly was better than any cheesy pick-up line.

From then, your heart seemed to ache for him even more. But seeing the way he was with every other woman really made you feel like shit, so you turned to the one who knew him best, Diluc.

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It was evening when you made the decision to ask for Diluc's advice, strolling into Angel's Share with a disheartened look. Diluc's crimson eyes met yours as soon as you walked in and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw the look on your face, "What's wrong?"

You sighed and plopped down on one of the bar stools, immediately crossing your arms on top of the bar and resting your forehead down on them. "This is so stupid. I'm so stupid. I hate this...", your voice came out muffled from the position you were in, but Diluc caught the gist of your grumbles. "Come on, lift your head up. How can I possibly help if I can't even hear what's troubling you?", his voice was stern but was mixed with genuine worry. Though Diluc wasn't one to be generally close with others, he felt that all those times he spent around you that he was comfortable with you.

You finally lifted your head and Diluc's somewhat stern expression morphed to pure concern when he saw the tears pricking your eyes. Immediately he announced for everyone to get out of the tavern, stating they were closing early for the night. People grumbled, not wanting their drinking shenanigans to end to early, but they left as they were told. As soon as the tavern was empty, he came from behind the bar and sat next to you, his voice low with worry, "Tell me why you're crying."

You sniffled as tears threatened to spill, "This is so stupid. I shouldn't even be crying." Diluc frowned, "No. Whatever it is, it's making you cry. Not once have I seen you cry while you've been staying here in Mondstadt. So tell me." You bit the inside of your cheek and then relented. As you explained your feelings about Kaeya, the only thing that kept Diluc from confirming that you were indeed stupid to even have feelings for his brother were your tears that continuously rolled down your cheeks.

In a soft gesture that Diluc didn't do for just anyone, he gently wiped one of the tears from your cheek with the pad of his gloved thumb, "Your feelings and concerns aren't stupid, even if I don't agree with you having romantic feelings for Kaeya, I can't disregard them just because I personally dislike him for my own reasons." You looked into his eyes and knew he was being genuine with you, "But what do I even do? I hate feeling like this..." Diluc frowned as he tried to come up with a proper response for something he had never dealt with before, "Try to distract yourself. Put your focus on yourself and when you're ready, start to focus on someone new."

You pondered his words for a moment with shaky breaths, "But what if I can't?" Diluc gently grabbed your shoulders and leaned closer to you, "You can. You're a strong woman, so don't doubt yourself." For some reason his words made you cry again, perhaps not from sadness, moreso from feeling too much at once. This startled Diluc and he did what he thought would be best to calm you. He stood up and brought you into his arms in a warm, comforting embrace. He held you and smoothed your hair as you cried into his chest.

One thing the two of you did not know what Kaeya was there just outside the tavern, having watched this exchange from the front window. He didn't know what had been said between the two of you, but seeing the way Diluc wiped your tears in an intimate gesture and held you against him in his arms made something twist in Kaeya's stomach. So, you had supposedly chosen Diluc. Maybe you wanted Diluc this whole time. Kaeya witnessing what had just happened seemed to bring a sense of finality to his question. To him, you chose his brother.

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Ever since that night, you had noticed that Kaeya seemed to be avoiding you which made you feel incredibly worse. You wanted to listen to Diluc's advice and push past your feelings for Kaeya since he seemed so unattainable. Kaeya would still spend some evenings with you and the others, but more frequently began to find excuses for why he couldn't join you all. When he was around you, he still had that mischievous charm, that sweet but sly smirk, and kind compliments that he gave to you. He seemed the same as ever, but with the growing distance, you weren't sure what to think.

You made yourself believe that you were fine with this. Diluc said to keep your distance as well so you tried to not let it get to you whenever Kaya couldn't join you are the group. But fuck, it did bother you. So fucking much. Will this heartache ever go away? No.

Apparently you were only getting ready to be completely heartbroken.

You couldn't have known what you were about to walk into. How could you have? You had gone to the tavern as usual, already accepting that Kaeya said he wouldn't be able to make it for whatever made up excuse he came up with this time. You sat at the bar having some light-hearted conversation with Diluc and throwing back a drink or maybe more than just one. Your brain was swimming with the alcohol you had consumed and excused yourself to the bathroom to splash your face with water to sober up a little.

Before you could even make it there, you heard a familiar laugh.

Kaeya's laugh. Your first thought was that it was a comforting sound only for your second thought to come barrelling in. What was he doing here? He said he couldnt make it so why the hell were you hearing his laughter? With the alcohol flooding your mind and heating your body, you went to find the source.

The sound of his flirtatious, sultry voice could not be mistaken for someone else's. The voice carried you to the second floor of Angel's Share. And there he was. He wasn't alone. Some pretty little blonde stood there, leaning over his table and propping herself up on her elbows as her ass stuck out in the position she put herself in. You couldn't hear what either of them said because the pounding of your heart filled your ears.

You stood there in some kind of stupor, frozen in place. The next thing you knew, the girls lips were on his. You didn't stay to see what happened next. You raced down the stairs. This caught Diluc's attention. The sight of you racing towards him looking as though you had seen a ghost. He didn't hesitate for even a second when you begged him to take you home, claiming that you couldn't bear to be alone right then. Tossing the tavern's keys to Charles, who caught them effortlessly and took over as if this was nothing new to him.

Diluc held you by your waist protectively as you both walked quickly out of Angel's Share and towards your home. He didn't speak, feeling it wasn't the right moment to ask you anything. As soon as you both entered your home and Diluc shut the door, rain began to pelt against the windows and you threw yourself in his arms and sobbed.

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Diluc held you for what seemed like hours as you wet the front of his shirt with your tears, your fingers clutching the fabric as if he were your lifeline. He didn't mind it so much, he just wanted you to feel better and if holding you and letting you cry against him was what you wanted, he would stay like just like this.

You meant something to him, even though it wasn't in a romantic sense, you were deeply important to him. After what seemed like forever, he tilted your head up gently so you would look up at him, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But just know that I’m here and I’m listening.” You drew in shaky breaths, your body trembling from all the crying, “He was there. With someone else. She… They… They kissed.”

Diluc's expression of concern morphed to anger and he held you close once again as you began to cry once more, but softly this time.

Why was his brother so fucking stupid? Didn't Kaeya know what you felt for him? Couldn't he even tell?

It took a long time for you to calm down, but with Diluc keeping his arms wrapped around you as you listened to him breathe and softly soothe you helped immensely. When you looked up at him again he gave a sad smile, "Will you be alright by yourself tonight?" You wiped your tear-stained cheeks and let out a breath, "I'll be okay... You've done enough for me already...”

He brushed away a strand of your hair that was stuck to your wet cheek, "Are you sure?" You gave a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Promise. Now go home. I've kept you long enough." Diluc huffed at your answer but he wouldn't push you to change your mind.

If you said you would be okay, he would believe you. He gently grasped you shoulders and spoke in earnest, "Don't hesitate to come to the winery if you find you can't be alone later. My doors will be open for you." You smiled slightly at that and thanked him. Diluc pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before turning on his heels and heading out into the pouring rain.

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You change into a nightgown, get a fire started in your little fireplace, and make yourself a cup of hot tea. You hold the warm mug in both of your hands as you watched the steam rise. The rain didn't seem to be letting up any time soon, but that was fine with you. It suits your mood. You take a sip of your tea and let the warmth fill your body as your eyes trail after a raindrop that was rolling down your window.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a desperate knock on your door. Your heart clenched tightly when you heard the voice on the other side, "Y/n. It's me. Please, please let me in. Let me talk to you." It was Kaeya. A small part of you held a flicker of hope when you heard it was him, but the other part of you felt even worse. The knocking and desperate pleas to be let in continued as you weighed whether you should open the door and hear what he had to say.

A crack of thunder reminded you that it was pouring outside and Kaeya must be absolutely soaked. You would feel bad if he got horribly sick, so with a heavy sigh you open the door.

There he was, looking down into your eyes with a gaze full of turmoil, seemingly unfazed by how the rain continues to pelt his tanned skin and drench him completely. "Please... Will you please listen to me?" his voice is soft but with so much desperation and heartache. You frown up at him, but step to the side to let him in without a word. Kaeya steps in and water droplets roll off of him, dripping to your wooden floors.

You set down your mug on the small wooden table that still held the now dried-out cecelias he had given you some time ago, "Let me get you a towel." Before you could turn to do as you said from your bathroom, his large hand grabbed your wrist. Kaeya pulled you back towards him, almost making you stumble, "No, let me speak first You blink up at him, opening your mouth to protest, but you quickly close it and sigh heavily. The fire crackles to your left and you decide to speak, "Let's at least sit in front of the fire. ... don't want you getting sick because of this." Kaeya let go of your wrist and nodded.

You both sit on the intricately designed rug as the fire crackles and casts a warm, orange glow on both of you. You avoid looking at him, staring at the flames instead when you speak softly, "I don't really want to talk to you right now, but you seem to have something to say. The least I can do is listen." Kaeya runs a hand through his damp blue hair, "I'm sorry for avoiding you occasionally." You huff, "No, I get it. You were seeing someone else so-" "What are you even talking about??", Kaeya cuts you off.

You finally turn your head to look at him with an incredulous look, "Seriously, Kaeya? I saw you tonight with that girl. You were kissing." Kaeya groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, "It's not like that." "Then what else could it possibly be?", you snap. "If you're seeing someone then just say so, I'II be fine." His jaw clenches, "Of course you'd be fine, you're with my brother." Your jaw drops at the words,"What are you saying? I'm not with anyone, certainly not Diluc for that matter. We aren't together."

Kaeya scoffs, "Well you sure looked awfully cozy when he wiped away your tears and held you some nights ago at Angel's Share. And you seem to spend an awful lot of time with him these days." "That only happened because I was crying over my aching feelings for you!", you raise your voice and immediately regret letting your words slip so easily. Kaeya stares at you in shock for a moment before speaking softly, "..What?"

Tears threaten to prick the inner corners of your eyes, but you turn to face to fire again, "My feelings don't matter. As I said earlier, you have that girl." Kaeya leans in towards you, "Look at me." His voice was soft, but with a commanding desperation. You finally spare him a glance, tears welling up in your eyes. He puts his palm to your cheek and caresses it, "I'm not with the girl that you saw. I didn't even know who she was.” A tear rolls down your cheek and your voice breaks when you speak, "Then why did you kiss her?"

His thumb swipes away the rolling tear and his forehead presses against yours, "She kissed me and I pushed her away right after she did that. You can ask the others that were up there, I'm being honest here." A few more tears fall and he holds you face with both hands now, forehead still pressed to yours as he speaks in a hushed voice, "You're the only I want. The only one I've been wanting since you came here." Your teary eyes search his eye, looking for any trace of dishonesty but you could find none, only truth. His breath fans against your face as he speaks again, "You're the one who has my heart. No one else. I mean it, truly."

You don't even think, you just act. Your lips press against his, startling him at first but he soon melts into it. His lips move in rhythm with yours. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. Your nightgown getting wet as you pressed against his rain-soaked body.

The kiss becomes more desperate and you find yourself laying flat against the rug with Kaeya caging you in underneath him as the fire crackles and pops beside the two of you. "Tell me you want this just as much as I do", his voice came out almost shaky between heavy breaths. Your soft hand caresses his cheek and down to the back of his neck as you pulled him down to you, "More than anything, I need you."

That was all it took for him to hastily unbutton his shirt and and shrug it off his body, his pants came off just as swiftly. You lay there in awe of his tanned, muscular body and your eyes trailed down the light blue happy trail that led down to a small tuft of tangled blue and a heavy, throbbing cock with a pink, leaking tip. If you had been just anyone, he would've smirked at your reaction, but right now was not the time for teasing. He made quick work of you nightgown, tossing it unceremoniously behind him. Your breasts moved in time with you heavy breaths and he took in every inch of your body, "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you...” His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

Kaeya lowered himself down and spread your thighs gently. His breath is hot against your sensitive pussy and makes you long for him even more. His uncovered eye flits up to your face and just as quickly as he look up at you, his tongue began to flick against your clit. You draw in a sharp breath as your back arches off the rug in time with a sporadic pop from the fireplace. He groans with need when his tongue licks through your folds and laps at the taste of you.

Your legs begin to shake from the intensity of it all and you tangle your fingers in his still slightly damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your grind your pussy against his tongue as he pushes you over the edge into white-hot bliss. You cry out his name when his tongue gives one more flick to your now overly sensitive clit. When he moves up towards your blissful face, you can see your own juices glistening against his lips. You don't even care that you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue when Kaeya kisses you with a deep passion.

His aching cock rubs against your wet pussy as his tongue dances with yours. Kaeya pulls back just enough that your lips still graze against each other as he speaks, "Please.." That's all he says with a breathless voice as his eye gazes into yours with so much love and desperation. You nod once and it was all it took for him to be lined up with your entrance and pushing in slowly. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a broken moan as he pushes his length into your warm, wet walls.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him against your body tightly as you release breathy moans. Once fully sheathed, Kaeya stills inside of you, letting you adjust to his thickness and length that were foreign to you. He presses a soft kiss to your neck as he pulls out slightly then slams back into you, making you dig your nails into his shoulders. He hisses at the feeling but doesn't stop his movement, "Fuck, you feel so good. Tell me you're mine. Please, angel, tell me you're mine." His voice was so desperate as he spoke between deep thrusts and whining groans. "I'm yours, Kaeya. Always was yours. Forever yours", you cry out as tears spill from your eyes yet again but for an entirely different reason.

Your heart feels like it is overflowing with emotion that you can't even begin to put into words. Kaeya's lips meet yours feverishly as he thrusts relentlessly into you. His cock hitting the deepest parts of you and you wrap your legs around his waist. "Gonna cum, angel", he breathes against your lips and soon your name becomes like a prayer falling repeatedly from his lips. Barely a moment later, Kaeya moans loudly and his cock throbs and twitches erratically as hot, white ropes of cum fill you. Your pussy contracts tightly around his in response as you hold him even tighter and cry out in time with the booming thunder outside your home.

Kaeya relaxes on top of you, his chest heaving and sweat glistening in the glow of the dying fire. He rolls off of you but turns towards you. You turn your head to take in his features and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "So this is what love feels like, huh?"

Your heart flutters in your chest and you turn your body fully towards him. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close against him. You press your face against his chest and he kisses the top of your head. You finally speak, your voice soft, "You must be right."

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

a/n: i went through all the stages of grief while writing this🥲

#kaeya smut #kaeya x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kaeya angst #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya

[onlycosmere]

Stormlight 5: Wind and Truth Preview Chapters

Chapter Shallan One

Shallan lingered atop Lasting Integrity, the great fortress of the honorspren, thinking about all the people she'd been. The way she changed based on perspective. Indeed, life was largely about perspective. Like this strange structure: a hollow, rectangular block hundreds of feet tall, dominating Shadesmar's landscape. People—spren—lived along the inside walls, walking up and down them, ignoring conventions of gravity. Looking down along one of the inside walls could be stomach-churning, unless you changed your perspective. Unless you convinced yourself that walking up and down that wall was normal. Whether a person was strong or not wasn't usually subject to debate; yet if gravity could be a matter of opinion...

She turned away from the heart of Lasting Integrity and walked along the very top of the wall, looking out to survey Shadesmar. Rolling ocean of beads in one direction; jagged obsidian highlands lined with crystalline trees in the other. On the wall with her, an even more daunting sight: two spren with heads made of geometric lines, each wearing a robe of some too-stiff, glossy black material.

Two spren.

She'd bonded two. One during her childhood, one as an adult. She'd hurt the first and suppressed the memory. Shallan knelt down before Testament, her original spren. The cryptic sat with her back to the stone railing. The lines and pattern that made up her head were crooked, like broken twigs. Int he center, the lines were scratched and rough, as if someone had taken a knife to them. More telling, her pattern was almost frozen.

Nearby, Pattern's head pulsed like a vibrant heart, always moving, always forming some new geometric display. Comparing the two broke Shallan's heart. She had done this to Testament by rejecting the bond after using her Shardblade to kill her mother.

Testament reached out with a long-fingered hand, and Shallan, pained, took it. It gripped hers lightly. But Shallan got the sense that it was all the strength Testament had. Testament responded to being a deadeye differently from Maya, who stood nearby with Adolin and Kelek. Maya had always seemed strong of body, even as a deadeye. Spren broke in different ways, it appeared. Just like people.

Testament squeezed Shallan's hand again, bearing no expression but that torpid motion of lines. "Why?" Shallan asked. "Why don't you hate me?"

Pattern rested his hand on Shallan's shoulder. "We both knew the danger, the sacrifice in bonding to humans again."

"I hurt her."

"Yet, here you are," Pattern said, "able to stand tall. Able to control the Surges. Able to protect the world."

"She should hate me," Shallan whispered. "But there's no vitriol in the way she holds my hand. No judgement in the way she remains with us."

"Because the sacrifice was worth something, Shallan," Pattern said, uncharacteristically reserved. "It worked. In the end, you recovered, did better. I am still here, and remarkably, I am not even a little bit dead. I do not think you will kill me at all, Shallan. I am very happy about that."

"Can I heal her?" Shallan asked. "Maybe if I bond her again?"

"I think, after talking to Kelek," Pattern said, "I think you are still bonded to her."

"But..." Shallan looked over her shoulder at him. "I broke the bond. That did this."

"Some breaks are messy," Pattern said. "A slice with a sharpened knife is clean. A slice with a dull one is ragged. Your break, done by a child without full intent, is like the one ragged. In some ways, that makes it worse. But it does mean there is still some Connection between you two."

"So..."

"So, no," Pattern said. "I do not think merely saying words again would heal her." His head pattern spun a little more slowly, as if he were contemplating something profound. "These numbers are unfamiliar, Shallan. Strange. Irrational. And a sequence I do not understand. I mean... I mean we are walking on unfamiliar ground. A better metaphor for you, yes. Unfamiliar ground."

In the deep past, deadeyes did not exist. It was what they had learned, in part, from the honorspren and from Maya. The deadeyes—all of them except Testament—had been bonded to ancient Radiants before the Recreance. Together, they had rejected their oaths, human and spren alike. They thought it would cause a painful but survivable split. Instead, something had gone terribly wrong. The result had been the deadeyes. The explanation might lie with Kelek, the very person Shallan had been sent to Lasting Integrity to kill.

She squeezed Testament's hand. "I'm going to help you," Shallan whispered. "Whatever it takes." Testament didn't respond, but Shallan leaned in, wrapping her arms around the cryptic. Pattern's robe always felt hard, yet Testament's bent like cloth. "Thank you," Shallan said, for coming to me when I was young. Thank you for protecting me. I still do not remember it all, but thank you."

The cryptic slowly but deliberately put her arms around Shallan and squeezed back.

"Rest, now," Shallan said, wiping her eyes and standing up. "I'm going to figure this out."

* * *

Shallan and Pattern left Testament to rest and crossed the wall at Lasting Integrity to meet with Adolin, Maya, and the Herald Kelek, who were speaking with a kind of spren that Kelek called a seon. She manifest as a hovering ball of light roughly the size of a head, with an odd symbol at the center. Other than them, the wall top was empty this day.

"You don't remember?" Pattern asked softly as he and Shallan walked. "The events with Testament? I thought you did. I thought, with Veil gone..."

"Veil is not gone," Shallan said. "She's part of me, like she always was."

"I don't understand."

"It's hard to explain," Shallan said, "and I'm not sure I've entirely figured it out. Healing is not an event, Pattern, but a process. I've incorporated Veil into myself so she doesn't take control any longer, but she's not gone. Veil is me, but Veil is not always Shallan."

"But... you are Shallan."

"Imagine it," she said, "as Veil moving to the back of the wagon as we ride to the future. She's still there, coaching me, and we're both aware of the world." There was more to it than that, of course. Shallan had projected some uncomfortable aspects of herself into Veil; now she had to face them. She'd worried that Adolin would find it difficult, but, well... Adolin Kholin was storming wonderful. After the discussion last night, he seemed to understand. Together, they knew that there was work to do, but Shallan had taken an enormous step toward healing. And along with it, acknowledged something important: she didn't deserve hatred, but understanding. It was hard to believe, but Veil insisted they try anyway.

"But..." Pattern said, "Radiant is still separate?"

"More separate," Shallan said.

"Mmm... so still in the front of the wagon."

"Yes. That might change. It might not need to change. I'm figuring this out as I go, Pattern. But I do feel better. More importantly, I no longer need Veil to stand between me and the memories."

"So you do remember!"

"Yes and no," Shallan said. "It's a jumble. I was young, and the events were traumatic, and there was so much pain associated with memories of my mother. I need time to process."

"Mmm... humans are squishy. Not just bodies; minds, too. Memories, too. Ideas, too. Mmm..." He seemed pleased by that.

As a child, she'd bonded a spren. Something her mother had not liked. A man had come, either to hurt Shallan or separate her from Testament. Her father had fought him, and during their struggle, Shallan's mother had come at her with a knife. In self-defense, Shallan had killed her mother with an early manifestation of Testament as a Shardblade. Shallan, in trauma, had rejected her nascent oath and buried those memories. But if her bond with Testament had never been fully broken, what did that mean? And which memories of those days between her mother's death and the arrival of Pattern... which of those involved Testament?

I knew I had a Shardblade, long before I had bonded Pattern. I thought about it in Kharbranth. She'd convinced herself that the weapon belonged to her father and had been kept in a safe. She'd gone there before leaving and drawn it out to dismiss it, pretending it was an ordinary Blade, pretending she had ten seconds to summon it. However, a part of her had known, even then, it was Testament, a friend to whom she'd done great harm. That was the one thing Shallan clearly remembered. Testament was her friend. A dimpled pattern on the wall that had delighted, then engaged, then protected a young girl.

Her spren had never been as talkative as Pattern. Indeed, Shallan could only remember rare, soft fragments of speech, encouraging her to stand against the darkness in her family. Shallan had loved her mysterious spren dearly. Though her memories were jumbled, the emotions shone through the pain. Strength could be a matter of perception, sometimes, and today Shallan found she could choose strength.

They approached Adolin, Maya, and Kelek. Shallan still found it incredible that this man was one of the Heralds of the Almighty. The short, balding fellow kept rubbing his hands together, as if washing them with an invisible soap and water. Adolin and Maya practically towered over him as they spoke to the ball of light.

Maya was obviously paying attention. She wasn't completely healed; her eyes were still scratched out, and her coloring wan brown instead of vibrant green like the others of her kind, but she was getting better. She no longer wandered off or just stared blankly during conversations. She was even starting to talk more, here and there.

"I worry about what is to come," the ball of light was saying. It had transformed into an approximation of Wit's face, made all of soft white-blue light, and spoke with his voice. The spren was a way to contact him, as they'd discovered a few days ago. "The war is about to intensify. It all rests upon the contest of champions. Odium's chosen warrior against whomever old Dalinar chooses."

"Father will choose himself," Adolin said. "When the Blackthorn needs to be certain something is done right, he will do it himself." Adolin paused, then glanced at Maya. "Storm him, he's probably our best chance, though."

"Wit," Shallan said. "It's really happening?"

"It is indeed. The contest is set, contracts agreed to. Shallan, they've set it for ten days from now."

"So soon?" Shallan asked. "Storms. Where?"

"Urithiru," Adolin said, arms folded. "They've already sent Windrunners to get us, apparently. Should arrive today." Shallan chewed on that, trying to to feel emotional whiplash. It had taken weeks to reach Lasting Integrity, but Windrunners could have them back to Urithiru within the day, depending on how much Stormlight they brought.

She found herself eager to return. She'd had enough of the honorspren and their elitism. She missed blue skies and plants that didn't crinkle when you touched them. Though Shadesmar had a sun, it was distant and cold. She could never thrive here. Plus, as she'd indicated to Testament, she had work to do.

"Wit," Shallan said, stepping closer, the glowing version of his face focused on her. "My brothers are safe? You're certain?"

"Very certain, Brilliant One," he said back, soft. "You're sure the Ghostbloods will move against you?"

"Yes," she said. After a year and a half of flirting with the Ghostbloods, she'd finally stepped up and said no. Doing so had essentially declared war on them. She found Adolin's hand for support. He knew the entire story, now. "Wit, I know their faces, their plans. I'm likely the greatest threat on the planet to their organization, and they've tried to kill Jasnah for less. Everyone I love is in danger."

"I have to manage Dalinar and try to prepare him," Wit said, "but I think I can help you, as well. I've been watching Mraize's little crew; I'll send your people my drawings of their members. But take care, Shallan. I know this group and their leader; they can be brutal."

"As can I," Shallan whispered. She glanced at Kelek, who was staring out over the bead ocean and the deadeyed spren who still stood on the shore. Despite him, she felt safe here, with Pattern, Adolin, and Maya. Safe enough to voice it. "Wit, I'm worried, though. Am I ready?"

"I ask myself that same question, now and then," he said. "And, Shallan, I'm ten thousand years old."

"During the trip," she said, "I started to create a new persona, Wit. Formless. A version of me, but..." How did she explain it? "A version of me with no face. A version of me who could do terrible things. I walked away from it, Wit, but that capacity is still inside of me."

"Shallan," he said, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. "If it weren't for that capacity, then what good would choices be? If we never had the power to do terrible things, then what heroism would it be to resist?"

"But..."

"Did you turn it away?" he asked. And Adolin squeezed her hand.

"Yes."

"Then heroism it is, Shallan."

"I'm remembering what I did to my mother," she said. "And my father. And, to a lesser extent, Tyn and now Mraize. I'm going to have to kill him, Wit. Is that my destiny? To kill every person who has ever mentored me?" In that, finally, her fears found voice. Did it sound silly, foolish, ridiculous? This pattern she'd seen in her life?

Wit did not laugh, though, and he considered himself an expert on what was ridiculous. "Would that any of us," he said, "could protect ourselves from the costs of heroism. But, again, if there were no costs, no sacrifice, then would it be heroism at all? I cannot promise you that it will be easy, Shallan, but I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," Radiant whispered.

"I'm proud of you," Veil—the part of her that was Veil—agreed.

"Thank you," she said.

"I have to go," Wit said, "but I'll leave you with this. The Ghostbloods want something extremely valuable, and you have the key to it standing with you right now. If you want to destroy them, you might not need to kill every last one of them. Instead, you might just need a powerful leverage over them."

The glowing sphere melted from his face, back to a sphere. "He's gone," the spren said. "I'm sorry."

Wit's final words lingered with Shallan, reinforcing something she'd been considering: a way to protect Roshar from the Ghostbloods. And indeed, she knew what their next target was likely to be. They'd sent her to Lasting Integrity to get intel on one of the Unmade, and the Herald standing with her had the secrets they all wanted to know.

"I need," she said to Kelek, "to know everything you know about Ba-Ado-Mishram.

The Herald wrung his hands and looked to the side, as if seeking to escape.

"We're not going to hurt you," Adolin said calmly. "You know that by now."

"I do," Kelek said. "It's just... I wasn't supposed to be involved. None of us are."

"I don't think the other Heralds follow that," Shallan noted, folding her arms. "What did you do, Kelek?"

"Not much," he said, putting his hand to his head. "I... I can't do much, these days. I don't know why. I can't decide. I..." He looked up at them and then formed fists, pulling them close up to his chest. "I was at Urithiru when the plan to capture Mishram was conceived. Then I joined them on their mission. I guess I'm the only one alive who actually knows what happened to her. It's why the Ghostbloods and their cursed Lord of Scars want me."

"Just tell us," Shallan said.

"Some of us learned you could capture spren inside gemstones," he explained. "Mishram, for all her power, was a spren. The Radiants prepared a flawless heliodor, the color of sunlight, and they trapped her inside, and then they hid her prison. Not in the Physical Realm, and not in Shadesmar." He bit his lip between his teeth, then forced out another part. "In the Spiritual Realm. Melishi hid it there."

"How?" Shallan asked, sharing a look with Adolin."

"I don't know," Kelek said, backing away. "I don't know. But now... now they'll send more people for me, won't they? They'll trap me in a gemstone; or they think they'll be able to." He looked to the two of them, wide-eyed, and fled toward the way down. None of them gave chase. This was, unforunately, usual behavior for Kelek.

Maya grunted softly, watching him go. "He's gotten a lot worse," she said.

Shallan started. "You knew him?"

"Met him a few times," Maya said, then took a deep breath. "Never... never thought much of him, even then."

"Well," Shallan said, "we know something more about Mishram, at least. Her prison is part of what Mraize has been hunting for a long time now, I suspect. I might need to find it first, before he can do so."

"Ba-Ado-Mishram," Adolin said, thoughtful, leaning back against the wall's battlements. "The most powerful of the Unmade. What would the Ghostbloods want with her, though?"

"Mmm," Pattern said. "Power. So much power. She was nearly a god. She bonded the singers, once. Could Mraize be wanting to do something similar?"

Shallan shivered, considering and thinking of Mraize and his master Iyatil, somehow commanding the entirety of the enemy army. Was that possible? "Whatever the reason," Shallan said, "I have to stop him."

"Her prison is in the Spiritual Realm, though?" Adolin said, frowning. "What does that even mean?"

"Mmm," Pattern said, "means we will never be able to find it."

"Surely it's possible," Shallan said. "The ancient Radiants put it there; we should be able to take it out."

"You don't understand," Pattern said, holding hands apart and gesturing in his way. "You think Shadesmar is odd, yes? Black sky, little sun, Pattern with arms and legs for perambulating." His head spun a little faster. "The Spiritual Realm is stranger by orders of magnitude. It is a place where the future blends with the present. The past echoes, like the striking of a clock. Time and distance stretch, like numbers, infinitely repeating. It is where gods live, and even baffles some of them."

Shallan took that in, then glanced at Testament, huddled in the shadow of the wall further back along the walk. "Our best guess," she said, "is that the deadeyes were created because Mishram was imprisoned, right?"

"Agreed," Pattern said. "Mishram became like a god to the singers, the parshmen. She connected to Roshar, and echoes of that filtered to the spren. Ah, so wonderfully odd. Her imprisonment is the reason broken bonds now have such an effect on the spren."

"It's because," Maya said, "humans have no Honor. The god, I mean... I heard that... that Mishram had been captured. I heard that... the Radiants would destroy the world. That is why I decided.... decided it was done." She shook her head. "I don't know it all. I'd... like to. Considering the breaking... what the breaking... breaking the bond did to me..."

That day, the day Mishram had been captured, something deeper had happened, an event connecting humankind, Honor, spren, and the bonds. "We need to figure out how Mishram or her prison has power over bonds," Shallan said, looking to Pattern. "We need to go into the Spiritual Realm and find that prison, however difficult it is."

His pattern slowed, then finally he laced his fingers together. "Very well. Though, you know what I said when I said I was sure you wouldn't get me killed?"

"Yes."

"I should like," he declared, "to make a retraction.

Chapter Shallan Two

It was nice for Shallan to take a few hours to think, for once. Sitting, wearing a bright blue havah, rather than her traveling clothing, settled at the top row of the stone, open-air forum within Lasting Integrity, drawing. How long had it been since she'd simply let herself draw? She'd sketched a little during her trip, but that felt like an eternity ago.

She relaxed, flowing with the drawing, a depiction of the vertigo she felt looking up along the inside walls of Lasting Integrity. A surreal painting, like something from one of the older art movements, where perspective was intentionally alien and off-putting. She liked to think that the old surrealists had made contact with spren in Shadesmar, warping their minds to new ways of seeing things. Though she'd never been quite as good with landscapes as she was with people, she was proud of the sense her sketch gave of falling. Yet into what? You could not see, because the unnatural perspective held your eyes upward.

Like others she'd done today, a strange face kept sneaking into the art. In this case, she'd absently warped the shadings of one wall into that face. Feminine, a singer with angular carapace and shadows and curves forming a strata-like design on her face. Shallan flipped through her sketchbook. Each drawing done today had that singer face hidden somewhere, and she didn't remember making them. She'd done something similar at Urithiru, where the presence of an Unmade had warped her sketches. She tried not to let it disturb her quite so much, this time. Then, it had been a message. Was there a similar one, now?

She looked toward Adolin, who paced at the center of the forum, a place where just a few days before he'd been on trial. Today, he'd been joined by Godeke, a lanky Edgedancer. Shallan's agents had joined them, as well—Ishnah, Vathah, and Beryl—along with their cryptics. Together, they waited for the Windrunners, and for the fruits of some final efforts in Lasting Integrity. She started another sketch as they waited.

In the end, twelve arrived. Twelve honorspren, from a population of hundreds. That was how many showed up in response to Adolin's call to arms. He and Godeke greeted each one with a smile, but she knew he'd expected more.

One other did arrive. Notum, the former sea captain, still had his unique facial hair, though he walked on unsteady feet. They still didn't know why he'd been assaulted by those Tukari that Adolin had saved him from. Notum didn't join Godeke and Adolin, but instead walked down the steps to join Shallan. "Radiant Kholin?" he said.

That was still odd to hear, even a year after the wedding. It hadn't been assumed that she would take Adolin's name. Among the Alethi lighteyes, either party was equally likely to keep their name as adopt a new one. In her case, she was needed in the Kholin line of succession. She doubted she'd take a throne that Adolin had turned down, but Dalinar wanted people he trusted in line. Her adoption in the Kholin house would strengthen their claim, should it come to that. In explaining this to her, Dalinar and Navani had been speaking pragmatically. But Shallan knew she'd remember that day differently. For her, it was the day when a set of parents had, for the first time, wanted her.

Notum settled down beside her. "Your mission was a success. Twelve new Radiants."

"We expected more, though," Radiant said, emerging. "After the support Adolin got at the trial, I anticipated an excellent recruitment effort."

"A good number of the honorspren support him," Notum said, "but that doesn't mean they want to be bonded. One can be irate at the honorspren leadership and think humans are deserving of support without wanting to take that step."

Down below the twelve honorspren started to fade. "I've never seen this before," Notum added. "I thought they'd go in a blink. Instead, they fade away to nothing."

"Not nothing," Radiant said. "They'll appear on the other side."

"I hear it's traumatic," Notum said. He had a stiff, formal way of speaking, even when the words were casual, clipping each word as if he were making an announcement from the quarterdeck of a ship. "Spren on the other side forget themselves."

"Only briefly," Radiant said. "These will probably stay in a group, which helps, and immediately make their way to Urithiru, drawn by the squires training there."

"Do you even need them now, though?" Notum asked. "Isn't the war soon to end?"

"Windrunners are our primary method of traveling long distances, and I suspect they'll be helpful in peacetime. Beyond that, even if Dalinar wins the contest, I worry about what is to come next. I think, the more Radiants we have, the more stable our position will be."

"Then I should hurry," Notum said, standing. "To join them. So that I'm not left alone."

Radiant approved, but Shallan... she noticed something. "You sound reluctant," Shallan said.

He looked at her, glowing the same soft blue of all the honorspren. His uniform, his hair, everything about him was made of the same soft light. Solid, not transparent, but also not quite real in the way she understood reality. "There's nothing more for me here," Notum said. "I've been rejected of mine and seen their pettiness. I should like to be of service. Though, I admit, I do not wish to bond a human. I loathe the idea. Is that petty of me, in turn?"

"Absolutely not," Shallan said. "I have two bonds, Notum, and understand the cost better than most. It's not pettiness or even cowardness to be hesitant. Just like it's not cowardly or petty to reject any relationship."

"Pardon," Notum said, "but other sorts of relationships don't lead to soldiers with remarkable powers."

That did, admittedly, complicate the matter. But after learning what she'd done to Testament, who sat with Pattern a few rows down, Shallan couldn't help but question their mission itself. They needed Windrunners, yes; but it made her increasingly uncomfortable to demand that a spren bond. It wasn't intimate in the traditional human sense of the word, but it felt as deeply personal. "We can use every Windrunner, yes," she said, "but I don't think you should force yourself to bond a human if that makes you uncomfortable. You can be a good person and say no, Notum. I've learned that."

"Perhaps," Notum said. "Perhaps I will stay a little longer here, then. With effort, I might persuade others of my kind to offer you support." He pointed and drew her attention to a group of honorspren walking past wearing traveling clothing and carrying gear, as if to leave on a long hike. They waved to Shallan and Adolin but did not join those fading away.

"Objectors?" Shallan asked as Adolin waved back to them. "Those you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes. They don't agree with how you were treated but also don't want to go to war. They leave Lasting Integrity to make their own way."

She nodded. "Well, Radiant Godeke is staying to continue to normalize relations with the honorspren, and I might leave one of my agents, as well. If you stay, that would help. They could use a solid ally here."

"I am your ally," he said, "but as I warned you, the honorspren leadership does not care for me, even if they have been forced to revoke my exile." His expression grew distant. "We have an entire navy that once sailed the bead ocean. It is a shame to see those boats abandoned in the shipyards. It gives the enemy full control of Shadesmar's seas. Perhaps I could sail under honorspren authority again."

Storms. If Shallan hadn't said anything, Notum might have actually gone to become a Radiant spren. Meaning she'd just actively gone against their orders in coming here. Perhaps she wouldn't mention that part in her report to Dalinar.

No other spren came. Lucintia, the spren who had been Shallan's guide since her arrival at Lasting Integrity, made no appearance. Shallan had hoped she would change her mind, despite their occasional clashes.

"Notum" Shallan said, "thank you. For how you stood up for us during the trial."

"I am one person stretched thin, Radiant Kholin," he said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "Like colors on the mast, which have waved too long in the wind. I don't know what I believe or trust any longer. But what was done to you was not right. I could not play the sham role they demanded of me. I ask your forgiveness for even considering it."

"It was natural to want your old life back, Notum."

He turned to her, blue eyes meeting hers. "I lay on the ground, battered and assaulted, and watched your husband rise in my defense against overwhelming odds. He saved me with no expectation of reward. In that moment, I knew that Honor lived." He nodded curtly to Shallan, then walked down the steps to talk with Adolin.

Shallan slowly turned back to her sketch, where she soon found that she'd drawn yet another face in Adolin's shadow. Storms. Don't be unnerved, she thought. You were upset when you drew Pattern for the first time back in Kharbranth. But look how that turned out. She would not be afraid of her own art. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to flip to the next sheet and start drawing again, until someone else settled down beside her. Kelek leaned forward, hands clasped, seeming small and fragile.

"I'm not going with you," he said softly. "I... I can't."

"It's not safe for you here," Shallan said, sketching, fingers moving as if of their own accord. "If I got to you, Mraize's other assassins can do so."

"I... I will hide. Better. But I can't leave the seon, and she can't travel right now. It wouldn't be good for her."

Shallan didn't argue. It never seemed to work with Kelek. Instead, she lost herself in a sketch of him. A Herald to add to her collection. She might have said this was the rarest of gems to obtain, but was a Herald actually rarer than anyone else? One might say, because of their immortality, they were less so.

"We are broken, Shallan," Kelek finally said. "We are not the heroes you wish us to be. Not any more."

"I know how that feels."

"I don't think you do," he said, wrapping his arms around himself. "I don't believe anyone does." He looked to Adolin, chatting with Notum and Godeke. "You're really going to try to find Mishram?"

"If I don't," Shallan said, "my enemies will."

"Then what?" he said. "Will you release her? I... I cannot decide. Always cannot decide. I have preached for her freedom in the past, but now I worry. She might join and strengthen Odium. She hates humans." He put his hand to his head. "Ishar says all the Unmade should be contained. Yet what we did to the singers by imprisoning her..."

"I'll worry about that when we find her gemstone," Shallan said. "Honestly, I'll probably bring it back to the Bondsmiths and let everyone decide together."

He didn't decide to respond, so she continued drawing. The familiar sound of charcoal pencil on paper, the distilled attention of creation, like the most potent of alcohol. She attracted a few creationspren, like little swirling lights. These ones, though, behaved oddly. In here, she'd never seen them change shape like they did in the Physical Realm, but these started adopting the look of her pencil and eraser.

She kept drawing, lines imitating life, freeing it, but altering at the same time. You could never make an exact copy; that wasn't the point. Every sketch was a picture of the artist, as well. Their perspective, their emphasis, their instinct, reclaiming a moment otherwise lost. Once you got to the end, it was sublime. The moment when you basked in the thing you'd created. The feeling of awe mixed with disbelief that this beautiful object had come from you, accompanied by the slightest worry that, because if you didn't understand how you did it, you maybe didn't deserve to have been part of the creation. She loved the feeling, even the uncertainty of it.

"Radiant," Kelek said, hands clasped as he stared down at the stone floor of the amphitheater, "what do you fear?"

What kind of question was that? "I don't know," she lied.

"I fear options," he said. "I see every choice I make, and I see the terrible results that could stem from them. If I stay here, I see you fail without me. If I go, I see my presence—broken as I am—cause your failure. I cannot continue. I do not..."

She rested her hand on his, then handed him the sketch. He took the picture, frowning, then his hands widened as he saw it depicting him standing tall, wearing robes and striding from a fanciful city with colorful walls and strange trees with long fronds she'd made up. He carried a staff with an odd shape at the top and strode toward the growing light on the horizon. Though, in the picture, he looked backward, and his face was determined. Decisive.

"Do you often do this?" he asked.

"Sketch people?" she said, then blushed. "Yes, I kind of do it all the time. When I'm feeling like myself, at least."

"Not simply sketching, child. Do you often draw upon Fortune? Glimpse someone's possible selves, then pull one forth? Touch, in some way, what could have been? What might still be?" He glanced at her and must have seen the utter confusion in her eyes as he sighed. "Is this a skill commonly employed by Lightweavers during your time?"

"Not that I know of," she said. "But I don't exactly understand what you're saying."

He glanced toward Pattern and Testament. "Two spren... Of course, you've bonded two. Strange things happen when a Nahel bond is imbricated. There were rules against it once, I believe. How long have you had them both?

"For some time" she said. "Though I didn't know it. I didn't remember it until just recently."

"And how often," he asked, holding up the sheet, "do you glimpse into the Spiritual Realm, then manifest it in your art?"

"I..." She thought back to pictures she'd done, like one found in the pocket of a dead man. Like sketches of the Unmade lurking in Urithiru, or faces turning up in her art without her intending to draw them. She began to feel like a fool for objecting so quickly to someone who obviously knew far more about these things than she did. "It might happen now and then," she said. "There was an Unmade at Urithiru, and it showed up in my art. Now, these faces." She turned one toward him.

He nodded. "Because you've been thinking about traveling to the Spiritual Realm and finding Ba-Ado-Mishram."

"That's her?"

"One interpretation of her, yes," he said. "If you were someone else, I would assume you had seen some ancient art and were unconsciously influenced by it. For you..." He shrugged. "Fortune can do unthought, <phantotic> things."

"I'm sorry? '<Phantotic>'?"

"It means 'unnerving,'" he said. "I'm sorry. I don't keep up on shifts in language, nor am an expert on Fortune. Best speak to Midius, your Wit, about that. A <phantotic> man himself, that one."

#the stormlight archive #wind and truth #cosmere #cfsbf #root #long post #wob #brandon sanderson #cosmere future