suddenly seeing all the bits that are wrong

To insecure self typed INXJs (and others needing insight in Fi/Fe distinction)

SUBMITTED by rainismyfavouritecolour

This is a personal, very recent discovery that I’m indeed INFJ. It took me a very long time to understand, but now that I’m finally here, I want to share this with you.

Maybe you’ve been told you don’t look like an INFJ. Maybe you can’t fully identify with hunches or always being right. You might have read a ton of Ni vs Ne descriptions and found the Ni one always more accurate, but were too filled with self doubt to really go with it.

There’s no surefire method I can tell you will work for you, other than continuous study of the functions and yourself. But maybe some of what I’ve written will help you identify yourself better. This is my very subjective experience only, but I’m sharing it in hopes that this will help at least some of you.

— O —

On Ni:

I get hunches. Constantly. And I go with them so fast, I don’t even notice. It’s an immediate reaction, a bolt of lightning hitting me from above. The reason I didn’t realize it before was because I was much more insecure and self doubting. I didn’t pay enough attention to this happening, nor did I trust it. Instead of implicitly trusting myself, I constantly analyzed and questioned, wondered if I was wrong - running around in constant circles. But tuning into myself a bit more, I caught it. I took it for so granted and natural before, I didn’t see what was meant by ‘hunches’.

I don’t think about it, in fact, I will usually be elsewhere with my thoughts or preoccupied with something completely different, and suddenly the solution to some thing I’d been worrying about appears (provided I have enough/correct info). That’s Ni.

I easily see parallels and similarities between things that may not appear similar at all. That sounds Ne but you need to pay attention to what your mind does with all the impressions you take in. If they converge, that’s Ni. If they diverge, that’s Ne. See, when I draw parallels, separate entities become essentially the same thing. They carry the same meaning, become a symbol for the same thing. Ne would likely assign two (or several) different meanings to a single object instead.

Another thing is that it’s stated pretty much everywhere that Ni is always right. That’s false. Ni THINKS it’s right. It doesn’t have to be. That’s an important distinction to make. Ni’s accuracy largely depends how much accurate information is available. The more there is, the more likely it will be that Ni actually will be right. The less information is considered, the more likely it is that Ni will completely miss the mark.

So, coupled with how insecure I was, how was that stereotype anything I could much identify with at all? I’m very well aware I could be wrong, even believe I will be, because that’s what the majority of my life taught me to believe. It’s really hard to trust yourself if you’ve got no self belief. If you don’t know how to.

So, some advice for insecure Ni-doms, or really anyone - work on trusting yourself, on self belief. Take a step back and stop questioning/analyzing. It’ll become clearer in time and your confidence will grow.

On Fe:

I display a number of behavioral characteristics that are both Fi and Fe. That made it difficult to identify with either over the other. What decided it for me though, was how I process emotion. Of course, Feeling functions aren’t primarily about emotion but that’s an important part not to be overlooked. I use Extroverted Feeling simply because I don’t process emotion internally. I can’t. I need to, ideally, talk them out to truly understand what I’m feeling, the exact nuances of it, why I’m feeling it etc. I share them naturally, openly, one of the few things about me that actually are external. I’m vaguely aware of my feelings, when I have them, but trying to figure it out in my head is headache inducing. I simply don’t work that way. Writing my feelings out works as well, but there seems to be something in the act of sharing or hearing it verbalized that makes it a better solution than just writing.

Fi, introverted Feeling, cannot do this so easily. It feels everything much more internally, and sharing emotion is extremely uncomfortable, impossible even. This is a very clear distinction I can see between real life Fi vs Fe users, more easily in high Feeling types. Fe will tell you exactly what they’re feeling, raw and in the moment. Fi will do that indirectly by hurling insults or accusing you of things. Emotion is obvious in both but one is direct and to the point, while the other is less so.

If I talk about my feelings, they see it as whining about my problems. They don’t see that this is how I process and identify my feelings and problems in the first place. To them, it’s an unnecessary and tedious thing to do.

Now, Fe values are about making sure other people are comfortable first while Fi is about making themselves comfortable first. The reason I use Fe is because of how natural and easy it is for me to look out for how people feel/may feel. That’s not because I value being kind and considerate. It’s instinctive. It just happens.

An example of this is how I react to criticism. I don’t wonder if it’s true or how I feel about it, but panic about how to best adjust my behavior to remedy whatever the criticism was about. I adjust myself to make the other person more comfortable. For example, my family once remarked on how odd it was that I continuously, naturally explained my reasoning behind doing certain things (thanks to one of Charity’s posts I realized that was Fe - sharing ‘emotions’ openly). I’ve grown up in a pure Fi family. No Fe whatsoever. So, doing that was perceived as me being defensive which never even occurred to me. Taking this as an unconscious command of 'don’t do it, it’s making me uncomfortable’, I did away with that. I still want to do it and often catch myself in the middle of it - but wanting to maintain outer harmony is so unconscious, it’s like breathing air. You don’t pay attention or aren’t even aware but it’s still happening.

This kind of stuff has been influencing me so much, I blended in with my Fi family. I now superficially appear like a Fi user despite not being one. Often, I’m told I look like an IXFP. My empathy is so high and unconscious, I take on the attitudes and emotions of others and don’t even realize it until slapped in the face with it. I’m just learning that I’ve adopted a lot that way. The differences only become apparent if you know me (and MBTI) well enough. I’m simply unable to do anything without considering what consequences this may have on someone else.

Now, I’m not the stereotypical host. I’m not particularly warm or fuzzy unless you know me well. That’s because my brand of Fe doesn’t care primarily whether you’re physically comfortable, something that probably has to do with with low Se, but if you’re okay emotionally. That you feel safe and comfortable, unjudged and not rushed. That you feel understood. I want to make sure you’re feeling good. I instinctively wait for others to 'give permission’ before proceeding, all because of this unconscious need to be considerate, even if I really want to do it. Like turning on the AC when it’s hot. My sister and mother just go for it while I always either ask if it’s okay with them and wait until they say yes, or silently consider whether one of them has a cold or whatnot, if the AC will make them feel worse. If they object, I don’t do it.

Additionally, my 'values’ change and expand constantly. Sure, I’ve got a few that are pretty set, but generally, if you can make me understand, it becomes adopted into my world view and values. Live and let live, for example, is a pretty Fi value. Fe is about collective values which is why 'live and let live’ can be bypassed in favor of 'the greater good’. The individual can be ignored as long as the majority are taken care of. I remember my sister telling me how intolerant I was being by not going by 'live and let live’ - now, it’s a natural part of how I think. I can’t even pinpoint when it became part of me, but it did.

On Ti:

Aah, Ti. How I love and loathe thee. Truth be told, I’ve probably been stuck in a Ni-Ti loop for a really, really long time. I still am in one. To keep it short and simple -

Ti needs to understand something before it can apply it/is taken in. It takes apart a thing into its single elements, examines each one from all angles until fully understood, and by the end can put the whole thing back together any way it wishes. It continually adjusts itself with each piece of incoming information, making sure its always consistent with its inner logic. Ti asks 'does this make sense to me?’

I have never been able to apply any concept until I fully understood it, going by exactly that process.

On Se:

The ultimate blind spot. I get lost embarrassingly easy to the point of getting anxiety attacks. My body coordination is complete crap. I continuously run into walls or door frames (it gets worse the more I try concentrating on how to avoid it). I cannot react right away but need time to process. Try to force me and I become catatonic, unresponsive. I slow down and come to a standstill, a mental stutter and state of paralysis.

I’m wary of physical intimacy to the extreme. I’m quite disconnected from my body or the physical world. The line between my thoughts, imagination and reality is blurred and very easily questioned. But solitary exercise or walks are amazing. They make me quiet my mind until I’m left with nothing but pure physical sensations and the inner peace and calm it fills me with.

— O —

I hope this has been at least a little bit helpful.

I want to thank Charity for her amazing explanations, her infinite patience with putting up with so many of my (sometimes really stupid) questions, and finally for letting me post this.

Charity note: there are no stupid questions. :)

i’m ready to break, you’re ready to bend

for @eggo-my-leggo, thanks for motivating me ely :)

read on ao3

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Steve walked down the road quickly.  His eyes were burning, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was from the cold.  It was freezing, and he tucked his hands under his armpits before the fell off.  Winter in Indiana was always shitty, but in the evening it was even worse.

“Why the hell couldn’t you have grabbed your jacket, Harrington?” he muttered angrily at himself under his breath.

Keep reading


Edward Nygma x reader

Warnings: There shouldn’t be any

Let it be said that usually you didn’t keep any secrets from your partner. It was liberating not having any blurred lines in the relationship. Except for one that you’ve managed to keep for over a month. Though, you knew he was starting to suspect there was something off the past few weeks.

The problem was, you didn’t know how he would handle the situation. Normally he was easygoing and loving, but there would be times when something else took over.

Eddie had been upfront about what was happening inside his head. There was another version of him that took over from time to time and that was the only reason you were afraid to tell your secret. Ed and Eddie were polar opposites. Eddie was awkward, goofy, and wanted to make others happy. Ed on the other hand could care less of what others thought, oozed confidence, and, if you were completely honest, could probably kill a person.

Your stomach lurched at the thought and you spilt the contents of your meager breakfast into the toilet. Groaning, you stood and moved to wash your teeth. You looked absolutely miserable as you made your decision to tell Ed that he was going to be a father.

The two of you never spoke about children, hell now that you thought about it marriage wasn’t a topic either. Fuck, this was going to be a disaster. You ran a hand over your face. It had to be done, no matter the outcome. You could find something else if things with Eddie didn’t workout.

You started to search online for looking for ideas. Just in case things did work out, you wanted to make it a good memory. Nothing on the internet seemed to fit the both of you as a couple. His favorite thing, riddles, would have to be the way to go. Now that you thought of it, he did love coffee too.

That’s it! All you would need to do is find a replica of his mug and a riddle. Perfect! You headed out and straight to the gift shop that you got Eddie’s favorite coffee mug from. The shop owner chatted with you as he put decal inside the mug that read ‘You’re going to be a daddy!’

Henry, you had learned his name was, wished you luck. “Besides anyone that has you should be proud!” He added with his final goodbye.

You hoped that would be true as you made your way to the GCPD. Everyone knew you were with Nygma, so no one bothered to check in with you. “Hey Jim,” you greeted when he entered the break room.

“Hey,” he gave you a tight smile, it was easy to see his newest case wasn’t treating him well, “What brings you around here?”

You showed him the inside of the mug, “Special announcement, besides I told Edward that I’d come to see him.”

Jim chuckled as he saw the inside, “I’m glad, congratulations YN.” Before you spoke Harvey rushed in telling Jim about a lead. “Tell me how it goes. See you around.” Jim rushed after Harvey.

Something about telling Jim got you excited and you just couldn’t wait to tell Ed now. You made coffee just the way he liked and made your way down to forensics. “Hey, love!” You pressed a kiss to Ed’s cheek and passed him his coffee.

Eddie grinned at you, “Thank you,” he took a drink from it before setting it down, “What did the boy snake say to the girl snake?”

You crinkled your brow, unable to find an actual answer. “Come Slytherin to my bed?” You joked, looking at him expectantly for the true answer.

“Sorry, dear. Give me a hug and a hiss, honey,” he opened his arms up for you.

“I swear Eddie,” you shook your head but complied to his request. Kissing him was always nice and it did wonders to make you forget your worries. Suddenly, there was a shift in his kisses, he got rougher and he picked you up and sat you on the table.

You pulled away from his kiss and sure enough it wasn’t the usually sweet eyes looking into yours. “Hello, Ed,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, starting to feel a bit sullen.

“What’s wrong? My kitten isn’t happy to see me?” He pouted, before rolling his eyes, “Come on, Eddie has been hogging up all of my time.”

“Here, you seem to be overly thirsty,” you handed him the mug, which he downed completely, impatient. “Besides,” you took his mug, before he saw the words, “I’ve got a riddle for the both of you.”

“Both of us can hear.”

That was no good for you, besides you needed Eddie to be in control. “You always need to suck me roll over your tongue to fill me all over in your mouth. Lick me again and again as it taste good to you,” you asked, biting your lip in just the right way to drive Ed mad.

Ed smirked at the dirty riddle, “Ice cream, but I’m sure my kitten has a different answer in mind.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to your other answer,” you replied coyly, leaning in to press a kiss to the base of his neck.

“What a good little kitty I have.” Ed pulled you closer, moving to press a lustful kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, “Not here..Lee could come in..”

He sighed, visibly annoyed. “Come on.” He took your hand and started leading you out of the lab. You made a quick grab for the mug without him noticing.

When he took you into the main hall at the GCPD you stopped in your tracks. Ed wouldn’t do anything now and anyways Eddie took control in public situations.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Eddie looked at you worried.

“I-I’ve got something to tell you..” You looked at the ground shyly, “I can be created by humans, But they cannot control me. I suck on wood, paper and flesh alike. I can be more of a hindrance than help at times. To my creators, I seem to be everywhere at once. What am I?”

His looked at you, confused at the sudden question. “You’re a child. YN, I thought riddles in awkward moments was my thing.”

“Look at this.” You showed him the mug.

“You’re pregnant!” His eyes lit up and his sudden shout made everyone stare at the both of you.

“Nygma actually knocked up a girl,” you heard one of the officers remark.

“You’re serious?” He asked, looking down at you lovingly.

You smiled at him, “We’re having a baby!”

Eddie started pressing kisses to your stomach before coming up to kiss you. “Tell me sooner, next time.”

“Next time?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Of course, I plan to spend my life with you,” his eyes sending warmth through you, “Each day with you makes me happier.”

“I love you, so much,” you said, hugging him and hiding your face against his neck.

The two of you spent the rest of your visit, talking about the future with a child. Eddie, of course, was already planning to read the unborn child his favorite books, Hawking included. The both of you marveled at how brilliant your child would become. After an hour it was time to head home, Eddie would still need to work for another four hours. He didn’t allow you to leave until he got to tell the baby goodbye and made sure you would rest for the day. You didn’t notice the glare that took over once you turned to leave.

Ed was not happy.

Originally posted by colfernygma

chasing cars

for @onethousandroaches! happy birthday to my salty hockey mom! 

some unbeta’d messy holsom for ya bc i love these boys

(I’m going with a few hcs I have, so holster is jewish and has gradually worsening hearing loss, and ransom has anxiety. I am not HOH, so if I got anything wrong please tell me! also, there are Hebrew transliterations in here! hope u don’t mind!)

(also whoops title is slightly irrelevant that song is just as soft as this fic)

words: a lil over 1k!

warnings: some homophobic language, and a vague description of an anxiety attack

Adam is seven, and he loves the ice.

It’s abundant in New York, especially in January, but he loves how he can glide across it so easily. Well, maybe not so easily, he thinks, as his dad has to pick him up off the ground for the fourth time this morning.

It’s a start.

Keep reading

Jealousy (Jimin)

As per Anon’s request! (Thank you again)

Wolf Au
3898 Words 

Summary: Jimin never asked for a mortal mate and as much as he loved her, he also found himself resenting every single gene in her body that made her human. 

Jealousy is a poisonous emotion that begins from the heart and courses through every vein filling every gap with bitterness. An emotion that was almost impossible to control and hide. It was also a curse bestowed upon Jimin for being the species that he was.

“Jimin we’re going for a run.” Hoseok said popping his head into Jimin’s room. Jimin was sprawled on his bed, his eyes closed. “Go ahead, I don’t feel like running.” He replied with a yawn. Hoseok expressed concern for the younger one’s health before leaving with the rest of the pack once Jimin reassured him that he was okay, just tired. With his acute hearing, he heard the leader make a comment about how it had been awhile since Jimin went for a run with them and the rest agreeing in unison. When he heard them all began to run, he rolled onto his stomach and let out a long exhale. Every time they asked him to go he would use the same excuse: “I’m tired.” He could never tell them the real reason why he couldn’t join them. As of lately, Jimin loathed his wolf form. In order to go for these runs, the pack had to transform to release tension building inside the body. In fact, he would avoid any situation that required him to become what he really was. He hated what he was and for once, just one day, he wanted to be a human. He just wanted to be normal.

Keep reading

One more (Pt.5)

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Yoongi X reader

Fandom: BTS

Request: Could you do one where y/n is dealing with alcohol/drug addiction and one night Yoongi (or bts reaction) accidentally finds out ?

Warnings: Alcohol abuse mention

Pt.1 // Pt.2 // Pt.3 // Pt.4 // Pt.6

Originally posted by no-ass-namjoon

Like an internal clock was going off inside your head, you woke up around 8 in the morning as you did every morning. It was too soon for you to open your eyes so you just shifted around the bed, leaning your head on Hoseok’s arm as the other was behind you. It was odd because his clothes smelled so familiar but unlike his own. Just a small peek and you knew instantly who was really laying next to you. Yoongi was still fast asleep, not know you were even awake. It took hours of convincing to get Hoseok to sleep in his room instead so he could be with you. After Yoongi told him about his long plan at winning you back he wasn’t convinced but hoped it would work out so all of this could just end already.

You didn’t want to admit it but he looked so sweet as he slept. His face seeming so much more calm than he had been lately. His lips barely parted as he breathed carefully. It had been a while since you’d slept next to him but you mind was suddenly plagued of that girl he was with, causing you to sit up. You started to feel the same nauseated feeling you had when you watched him having his arms around her and the way he chased after her. In no way did you want to be caught up with that and in no way were you going to stop him if he wanted to be with her instead. She was beautiful, sweet, and not struggling with an addiction that ruined their relationship. She could have been everything you weren’t. Thinking about it was making you tear up alone and giving you a small sense of self hatred. 

You removed the covers off of you as you stepped out of the bed, quietly. He didn’t even move an inch when you stood up but your grip on your phone slipped and it banged onto the floor. Yoongi’s nose crinkled while he shifted around on the bed. He’s eyes opened, seeing you getting up.


You felt yourself finch, hearing him awake, but your side was towards him. You coldly turned away from him so he couldn’t see your face as you sniffled. His eyes widened as he sat up. 

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, not sounding very in the mood. 

“I had to talk to you last night but you were already asleep-”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” It came out more forceful than you intended.

“Whoa, wait. I didn’t stay in here to pick a fight with you. I just wanted to talk to you but you were already asleep and I didn’t want you to leave in the morning before I got the chance.”

“About what? My blessing for you and your ex to do whatever? Yeah, go right ahead.” 


“Oh, don’t act like you were going to fuck her! I know I have no right to be mad but you also have no right to lie to me.”

Yoongi let out a small sigh of frustration.

“She’s not who I love. It didn’t end up happening and probably wouldn’t have happened anyway.”

“Why because I happened to be there?”

You could tell the conversation wasn’t going anywhere but you couldn’t stop yourself from spewing back comebacks. 

“No, Y/N. I know how bad that looked and I’m not going to sit here and make excuses. We’re completely and utterly nothing but she made me even more confident about how I feel about you. I love you and that still hasn’t changed. Hell, it won’t change. I know you don’t want me to be a part of your recovery so I’ll keep my distance. I’ll wait for you even if it takes years. I should have just respected that in the beginning instead of assuming that you needed me for everything. You’re your own person and-…..I’m so fucking proud of you, babe.”

It was like a hidden talent of his to leave you speechless as you tried to find the words to describe how you felt. In fact, it might even be impossible since you didn’t even know how you felt. Was it selfish of you to make him wait? Should you have just let him stay by your side? If he was in this position you would have wanted to be there for him so you can understand why he’s so desperate for your attention, you just wanted to protect him. Maybe he doesn’t need to be protected.

“Will you do me a favor?” You asked, still without facing him. 


“…….Will you pick me up from my meeting today?” It was quieter than everything else you had said because you were embarrassed to ask but you could tell  Yoongi’s eyes flickered with shock by the reflection in the TV.

“Y-Yeah, of course I will.”

Without saying another word you walked out of the bedroom so you could head off to your place for a change of clothes and head off to your meeting. Yoongi sat there in awe of what just happened. He wasn’t sure if this meant you were going to include him again. Even if you weren’t planning to this was better than nothing. He’d take anything you were willing to give him. 


As you headed downstairs you found Hoseok laying on the couch uncomfortably so you stopped by to thank him.

“Aw. You had to sleep down here because of me?”

His head titled up but he smiled, seeing you awake. 

“It’s Yoongi’s fault. Did you sleep okay?”

You smiled back, giving him a nod.

“Thanks to you. I’m going to head off to my meeting but I’ll come back to see you guys this weekend.”

Namjoon came out from the kitchen, grabbing a set of keys off of the shelf, as he approached you.

“I’ll drive you, I have to go somewhere anyway.”

He didn’t look very happy about where he was headed but he still remained as level headed as usual. You could have figured where he’d be headed off to but you were sure it was okay to ask. If he was going to talk to his girlfriend about what happened then he’s fully aware that she’s going to breakup with him. You have him a look of pity to which he returned with a shrug. As you didn’t want Hoseok to find out as well, you two just headed out to the car after saying goodbye. 

“Are you really going to tell her? I know it’s the right thing to do and everything but I can guarantee you’re going to lose her. “ You asked, sitting in the passenger seat. 

“It’s my fault. If I wasn’t willing to lose her I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

You looked down at your lap, knowing if you hadn’t had said anything things would have still been normal. 

“How’s recovery going, anyway?” He suddenly asked, seeing your glum expression. 

“Oh. It’s good. I’m really learning a lot but it’s easier with someone else in the house. I got rid of all the alcohol but there’s not much to stop me from heading off to a bar or buying more. It’s hard but I haven’t cheated at all-….Sorry, wrong choice of words.”

Namjoon cracked a smile. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

As you both sat in the car patiently to get to the right building you just talked about normal things. It was nice to talk to someone without fighting or having to bring up the obvious problems that were occurring in your life. It felt a little bit normal, giving you a small spring of hope in your chest. When you arrived and stepped out of his car you looked back to thank him. 

“Do you need me to pick you up a few hours?”

“Nope. I have my own ride, but thanks. I feel like I can always count on you, oh and good luck!”

For one last time he smiled again, waving.

“Yeah, you too.”

genderfluid nico fic

because my lovely genderfluid girlfriend is not feeling too well and i will do anything for her


nico has always felt different. he remembers very distinctly believing as a child that he had been born a girl. his mother always corrected him, bianca always corrected him, but he had been entirely convinced that he was born a girl.

nico doesn’t tell anyone that. it’s an odd memory, something that he doesn’t care to share with another living being. 

Keep reading

locked out

REQUEST: The reader is in college and she’s always busy, also she is Sebastian’s neighbor but she has never paid attention, one day her roommate is not on the apartment and she doesn’t have her keys so she has to stay outside studying and Seb notices her.

WARNINGS: language. a lot of that.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: uuuummmmmmm this is like totes a dream of mine lmao COULD YOU IMAGINE SEBASTIAN BEING YOUR NEIGHBOUR?! anyway, i really loved this request and i could totally see myself making this a series buuuuuut first, i gotta catch up on all of my requests lol ok, enough of me rambling!


Fuck!” You dropped your backpack on the floor and dumped all the contents out onto the hallway floor. 

“Please, please, please.” You mumbled to yourself as you shook your apparent empty backpack.

You sighed in defeat and let out a whine. “Fuck me.”

You sat back and fell against the door. You had forgotten your apartment keys and your roommate was out running errands for who knows how long. Now you were stuck outside the apartment for who knows how long.

You began to pick up your mess and stick it back in your backpack. You huffed, pulling your phone out and realising that it was on 2%.

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Love, Want, Need.

I love that look in your eye. The one that you get that split second before you know it’s about to happen. I love it when you start to shift away so slightly. Anticipating where my fingers are going to carass your skin. Where they’re going to begin their assault. Where the first nerve ending ignites. I love it when it starts. When a single fingertip glides along your leg, a traveller seeking greater things, but not unaware of the importance of the journey. It makes it’s path felt like a ghost whispering into your skin. It’s barely there. You could of sworn it had stopped. But you know from the tensing in your stomach that it’s present. That’s it’s still going. That it’s hungry.

I love when you try to resist. You exercise as many muscles as it takes to frown. You won’t give me the satisfaction. But it builds and builds. You’re forced to smile. Just the tips of your lips curling upward to slighlty. I love that you think I won’t notice. But of course I do. And I’m going to comment on it.

“You do look much prettier when you smile”

I love that you’re losing the battle. Your cheeks keep rising, inch by inch. Your lips are being pulled from one another as the smile grows wider and wider. I love how I can hear your breath becoming heavier. Faster. You’re trying to control it, but you can’t. Every time my finger gets lower you inhale in shock. It’s over your ankles now, circling as if hoping to leave it’s mark. I love how your breathing just included a little giggle. Just one. Just one sweet little offering. I love how the look in your eye just changed. Your eyes widened. Maybe I wouldn’t notice? But I definitely did. You know it now. You’ve given me a taste of what I want. No way I’m stopping now. My fingers find your feet, wiggling along your toes. Teasing their undersides as they flex and fold as plants in the breeze. I love how your giggling’s becoming a laugh. It was just too hard for you to hold in so many coming so fast. You simply had to give in. You just had to laugh.

“Aww, something funny to you? Or is it…maybe you’re just a little ticklish?…”

I love how your eyes have changed. There’s a fire in your belly now. You’ve got a taste of what you want. No way you’re going to have me stop now. They look at mine now with a longing. Your eyebrows raise slightly. You say maybe you are, and ask what I’m going to do about it through forced down chuckles. I love how helpless you are, and yet how much power you still have over me with those shimmering eyes and your hushed tone. Your teasing words stoke the flames. I tickle more. I tickle slightly faster. I tickle now to drive you slowly insane.

“Silly ticklish little girl. You should have just asked.”

I love how the words even have an effect on you. Like every sense is being taken over by the sensation. Like you can’t even think about anything other then my voice echoing in your mind. I love that your struggling more now. It obviously tickles so much you cant sit still, but you still try. You don’t want to discourage me now, do you? The hands plan a methodical path all over your body. Ready to enact it any second. I love that this is just the prologue. Teasing tickles to light a spark. The heat’s spreading. Your breath warm like smoke. And where there’s smoke. Well, you know the rest. I can see it. Your hips are swaying gently, thighs pressed tightly together. Instead of trying to flee, your skin seems almost drawn to my fingertips. We share a glance. A glance that lasts for eons. Entire stars are burst into existence and fade into the cold in that one instant. Silently, we get up. I love that we both know that this isn’t stopping. It’s just relocating. To the place where all the best things happen. Where all the fun toys are. Where it all becomes a haze of desire and want. Where you really, and I mean really, get tickled. I love that you almost run, so eager to get there. I love that you don’t just want this. You bloody crave it. Release from everything. A whole existence free of anything that isn’t you, me, and this delicious torture that could never end. You’ve allowed yourself to dream. To desire. To lust.

I love that.

I want it to get deep. I don’t mean a 10 second tickle. I don’t mean a quick scribble of fingers. I don’t mean a cheeky poke to the sides. I mean real. I want you to look into my eyes. Dead into them. I want you to see my desire to totally render you helpless with ticklish laughter burning from behind my dark brown optics like a forrest fire. It’ll envelope everything if you let it. I want to look right into yours and see the hunger. A hunger so vast and insatiable that it draws me in with it’s sheer force. I want to see that you need it. You need me to run my fingers all over your body. Every last inch. Slowly, quickly, teasingly, tortourously, it’ll all happen. It’s going to be hours of your howling and my smug grin, my verbal cooing.

“Awww, what’s the matter?”
“Too ticklish for your own good?”
“Tickle tickle…does it tickle when I do this?”
“Why are you begging for it to stop? Face it. You’re all mine. And I’m going to tickle you forever, little girl”

Statements, questions, teasing. All of it barely audiable over your own laughter. From the tips of your toes, down your soles, your heels…Right up your legs, thighs, hips, sides, stomach, ribs, underarms, neck, collarbone, your back. Even a few places neither of us dare mention until we’re consumed by the moment. I want you to gaze at me in the short breaks I afford you and bite your lip, knowing it’ll start any second. I want you to see my grin, my arrogance that I’m in total control of everything you feel. I want the whole damn universe to stand still. To not matter. Because in this moment you see in me every fantasy you’ve ever had realised. Every dream come to life and even things you’d never dared allow yourself imagine. And it all comes packaged with an English accent. I want you to feel amazing. I want your skin to light up with each delicate touch and each gentle stroke until you feel like a thousand candles. I want to draw forth peels of giggles as I slow it down. Raucous laughter as I speed up. Whimpers as feathers touch you with their downy strokes. Gasping as brushes softly tease with their bristles. Begging for it to stop through tearing eyes. Begging for more mixed with moans. Admitting you love it with complete acceptance.

I want it to never end. I want you to crave it as much as I do. I want to satisfy every desire that makes you warm up inside, fidget with your fingers, turn you to distraction. Every time you blushed I noticed. Every time you stuttered I made a mental plan. I’ve been doing my homework, little girl. And I know how to make you feel true, eternal, exhausting ecstacy.

I want it to tickle.

I need to tickle you. I know, it comes across as rather basic. But I want you to understand what that word really means when I say it. Let me walk you through.

When I say I need to tickle you, I mean I need you to start strong. Such a tough girl. All up for what’s about to happen. A little back chat. We chuckle at how you say I won’t win. We chuckle at how wrong you are. You’re so sure of yourself. So damn confident it borders on arrogant. I take it all. A few witty retorts, a couple allusions to what’s about to happen, but you don’t let it phase you. Suddenly though, you’re a little tied up at present, and that cockiness seems to have dampened a bit. Such a shame. You’re stuck now. I need to see the feeling of helplessness begin to descend on you as I circle your delicate form like a vulture. Slowly drinking it all in. The situation. Your eyes watching me with such apprehension. You mouth trembling so slighlty you’re sure I won’t notice. I notice. And that right there is the starting gun.

I need you to jump just so slighlty as my hands suddently clasp on your sides. The palms rub up and down gently as I peer at you. But before you can enjoy any of it, by index fingers flick down softly. Just grazing your skin. Your entire body tenses. Another two fingers join, just scraping by once. Then more. Then all. As soon as my hands appear closed next to your sides they open again like a springtrap, all of my fingers pouncing on your skin. Then they curl again. One by tortorous one. You’re resolved not to laugh. But my light tickling of your sides is just step one. The fingers begin to glide at the base of your ribs now. So teasingly, like it’s accidental. But you twitch a little. Your compisure’s starting to slip. I think now’s a good time to try and get a little reaction out of you.

“Not much to say now, huh? You were such a big talker a second ago. Wonder what happened?”

I need you to try respond, but as soon as I see you’re about to I move my fingers up to the sides of your ribs. The words catch in your throat as you shut your mouth as mach speeds to prevent the inevitable. As I count your ribs over and over, I search for the tell-tale signs of repression. Turning your head from me. Not making eye contact. A few mumbles. Doing anything to get your mind away from the situation. But I won’t let it. The second I think you become used to the sensation I switch. Fingers crawling up your underarms and making such soft circles in their hollows. Round and round they go, exciting your skin. Now you’re really struggling. Your lips so harshly pressed together, they could forms diamonds. I hum to myself as I cock my head, seeming inquisitve as I carress your sensitive skin. Suddently it stops. I’m changing things up. I need you to be tickled everywhere. And I’ve been terribly neglecting your lower body. My mistake. I need you to have a breahter now. A little respite. Just to clear your mind. Because I need you to see how quickly you can go from totally fine, to utter hysterics. As I settle by your feet, I need you to feel as helpless before the tickling starts as after.

“Going to be a good little girl and laugh? Or is someone too stubborn?”
“Come on, let’s see a smile! No? Guess I’ll have to work on that.”
“Don’t suppose these cute little feet are… ticklish? Oh I bed they are!”

I need you to feel yourself start to slip away as soon as a single finger begins to gently trace from your heel, along your arch, all the way up to your toes. And down again it goes. You can’t even help it now, you’re lips curl into a small smile. I drink it in. It’s the sign of better things to come. My fingers tracing up and down, so slowly, so lighlty, so gently is only made worse by my constant reminder of how at my mercy you really are.

“Awww, such a lovely smile.”
“Cootchie coo, let’s hear a giggle”
“I bet this tickles just so much! Bet you really want to laugh, huh”

I need my fingers dancing on your soles, your arches quickly, but with such grace a ballerina would feel shame. Their light strokes and wiggling tips excite every nerve after the other so each movement feels like a new sensation. It’s maddening. It’s unbearable. It’s laughable. That such contact, such child-like games could make you want to beg for it to stop. Could make you lose your mind. I need you to laugh. And you’re more than ready to oblige. Just a giggle at first. Barely audiable. But it builds. And each attempt to silence it is met with more bubbling up. It overflows like a broken riverbank. It’s volume rises like the ties. It’s musical. It’s melodic. It’s perfect. Pure. My fingers teasing your toes, one by one then all at once. Slowly then quickly. Softly then with pressure. They adapt as your laugh betrays you once more, letting me know your most sensitive spots. The places to really let loose. It goes on and on. But your calves get their own attention. Soft stroking right up until the backs of your knees. Playful wiggling turning into hungry kneading as my hands move around to tickle your thighs. Their outsides, their backs, their insides. I watch as you thrash and laugh louder than before. It’s clear your control is gone. I need to see it in your eyes. Admission of defeat.

“Tickle tickle tickle! Such a ticklish little girlie, aren’t you?”

My fingers knead your hips. Your whole world is spinning wildly out of control. Your laugher is mixed with heavy breathing. Dizziness takes over as you melt completely into ticklish ecstacy. My fingers at your feet and your hips. Your thighs and sides. Your knees and belly. They run and play and tease and exploit your weakness like experts. The cruelist tools of the kindest torturer. Everything that led to this doesn’t even register. Whatever happened before of happens after this moment is beyond even fathoming. All that’s in your mind is my words bouncing around your head, echoing like a mantra told for eons. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You can’t stop it. You’ve given in. It’s all your know now. It’s all you want now. For it to never end. It’s agony and the height of pleasure all rolled into one. Your begging for it not stop now. I need to hear it in your voice. Through the laughter and the strain, through the moans and the sharp intakes of breath. The hunger. The desire. For this to be your everything. For this to be forever. Peaks and valleys of ticklish delight. Slow. Fast. Playful. Dastardly. Innocent. Evil. A torment for all eternity as your skin is teased by tools of all kinds. New materials bring new senstations. It never becomes stale. It’s always building up. It’s all there ever will be, and all you’ll ever want. Tickling. Until you’re nothing more than a thrashing, moaning, laughing, broken, begging, excited, helpless, little girl.

So hopefully you understand. Hopefully you appreciate it. Hopefully you feel your stomach drop and the adrenaline start to rush and every muscle begin to tighten when I say:

I need to tickle you. Now.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any good blogs that will write me a drarry smut based off of my personal headcanon quickly?

Drarry writers tend to go on and off for when we’re writing prompts. At the moment, I think @sappypotter and @l0vegl0wsinthedark tend to write requests? (Sorry guys if I got that wrong!) But it sounds like you want something longer, which is a bit different. My advice would be to message some writers off anon and see if they’re interested in your prompt, as sometimes it can turn out we’re excited/inspired about an idea and might be more than happy to do it for you.

As for doing it quickly, we all have things going on in our every day lives that either suddenly or slowly prevent us from writing. And fan fiction tends to fall to the bottom, particularly if it’s not our own idea and we’re not as inspired. So if you do pursue your prompt/headcanon writing, I’d also suggest you don’t request it to be done quickly. That kind of pressure is a turnoff for a writer because it feels like people aren’t appreciating the time and effort it takes and just want us to pump out fics like a vending machine.

That being said, if you have a deadline like a friend’s birthday, so long as you’re upfront about that at the start and respectful that circumstances change and time is not something that can be controlled at the drop of a hat when it comes to creativity, then by all means negotiate that as well. Good luck x

Safe Place - Luke Hemmings/(Y/N) Series - Part Eight

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven


The phone goes silent as I stare straight ahead, my mouth hanging open in shock. I can’t believe that those words just came out of Jonah’s mouth. I begin to wonder if I’ve just made up the whole thing in my mind to make it easier for me to get over him, but I know in my heart that it was real. I know that he just told me that I don’t deserve to live.

I try to say Luke’s name. I need him here with me. He’s the only thing that makes me feel safe anymore. But as hard as I try, I can’t get any sounds to come out of my mouth. I can barely even get air.

I begin to hyperventilate as I drop my phone onto the bed and lower myself onto the floor. Did he mean that as a threat? Or was he just so angry that he said something he doesn’t mean?

“L-Luke,” I croak, trying to get him back in here.

I can feel another anxiety attack coming on and I don’t want to be alone. I don’t hear his footsteps so I clearly wasn’t loud enough.

I clear my throat, trying again. “Luke,” I say, a bit louder.

Thankfully, a few seconds later I can hear the door to my bedroom open and I see Luke’s feet as they come through the door. His steps get quicker and suddenly he’s on his knees right beside me, his hand resting on my back.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? What did he say?” He asks, his voice panicked.

I shake my head, trying to tell him that now isn’t the time. I can barely breathe, much less speak. He seems to get the hint and he sits all the way down on the floor with me and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I want to push his hand away, and if it were anyone else I would, but it’s Luke. His embrace makes me feel safe.

I can vaguely hear him murmuring comforting words, but I can’t get myself to focus on what he’s saying. I can only focus on the lack of air in my lungs. Pretty soon I can hear myself start to wheeze. Luke is suddenly in front of me, his blue eyes focused on my face. I feel his hands come up to rest on my shoulders. 

“(Y/N)!” He yells, finally snapping me out of my trance. “Look at me.”

I try to look at his face, but I can’t stop my eyes from roaming. They just won’t stay still.

“Breathe,” he instructs.

I try, but all I can get is a weak, strained gasp. 

I begin to see black spots forming in front of me. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

I try to warn Luke but I don’t think any words come out of my mouth.

I finally close my eyes and try my best to calm down.

I can’t pass out. That would completely freak Luke out.

“Look at me!” He yells, making me open my eyes again.

His eyes are wide and he continues staring straight at me. 

I nod and I continue trying to get air through my lungs.

“I-I’m al-alright,” I mumble, trying to calm him down.

I can see his eyes soften a bit when I say those words, but he doesn’t move from his spot right in front of me.

“I’m alright,” I repeat in a whisper, mostly to myself.

The anxiety begins to disappear as quickly as it came on, and after a few seconds I’m feeling almost normal again.

I reach my trembling hand out to place it on Luke’s shoulder and I pull him in for a hug.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice still soft.

He instantly wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. “Of course.”

I can tell that he’s dying to ask about what Jonah said to me, but he’s waiting patiently until I’m okay enough to talk about it. I don’t want to cause myself another anxiety attack, but I feel like Luke needs to know what Jonah said. If he was serious then I could be in danger.

I pull away from Luke and look into his worried eyes, my heartbeat starting to accelerate again. I clear my throat in an attempt to keep the air flowing through my lungs.

“S-so the break up didn’t go over so well,” I say, my voice still weaker than I’d like it to be.

Luke just nods, his eyes focused on me. “We don’t have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to,” he tells me.

I nod, “I know. But I think that you should know what he said…” I let my voice trail off and I recognize a hint of confusion in Luke’s expression.

He just nods, staying silent and waiting for me to continue.

“He told me…” I start to tell him what Jonah’s said, but the words are getting caught in my throat and I’m finding it difficult to breathe again. I try to take in a deep breath, but I can’t. I look up at Luke and force the words out before I start panicking again. “He told me that I don’t deserve to live.”

Luke’s face is unreadable as he processes what I’ve just said. “He said that?”

I nod as I bury myself again in Luke’s chest and start to cry.

“We need to tell the police,” Luke says after a few seconds. “He will probably try to hurt you again.”

I nod against him, not wanting to move from this spot.

“Are you up for going to the police station with me?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

He rubs his hand up and down my back soothingly as I try to calm down.

“Okay,” he says. “How about I call Michael over to stay with you while I go to the police station and see what our options are?”

I pull Luke even tighter against me, “You really are the best friend I could’ve ever asked for.” I murmur.

“Back at you,” he responds almost immediately.

I let go of his waist and lean back, rubbing some of the tears off of my face with the back of my hand.

My eyes immediately fall on Luke’s white t shirt that is now stained with my tears and a bit of mascara.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I say, my fingers brushing across the stains.

He laughs slightly, “Don’t worry about it. This was Calum’s shirt.”

I smile. “Tell him I’ll buy him a new one.”

Luke looks away suspiciously, “Well if I told him that then I’d have to tell him that I stole it in the first place, so we’ll just let this one stay between us.” He winks and I let a small giggle escape my lips.

He gets to his feet and holds his hands out to help me stand up. I take them and he pulls me to my feet with very little effort.

“I’m going to go call Mikey until he wakes up and ask him to come over,” he says, turning toward the door.

I look at the clock. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, shouldn’t he already be awake?”

Luke looks back at me with an amused expression. “You clearly don’t know him very well.”

waverly-earp  asked:

things you said after you kissed me + skimmons

Jemma kisses her and it makes her ears ring. Though, Daisy is willing to concede, that might be the echo of gun fire in the warehouse they’re currently trying not to die in.

But still. Jemma kisses her. Jemma kisses her and Daisy swears she sees stars. Fireworks. Could still be a result of the gunfire. Whatever.

Suddenly Jemma isn’t kissing her and honestly it’s a disappointment. Daisy can’t believe she’s gone this long without kissing Jemma because it suddenly seems like everything is a little bit duller now. And sure, they’re trying not to die and trying to get out of this building and back to the Zephyr but is it so wrong for Daisy to want to kiss Jemma again?

She thinks about saying all this, honestly she tries. But what comes out is, “What?”

Jemma’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“What?” Daisy will not write this down as her finest moment.

“I know this is terrible timing but I needed to do that. I needed to say that,” Jemma says, taking Daisy’s hand. “Just in case.”

Daisy shakes her head. “Oh no, there’s going to be no just in case,” she assures Jemma. “We’re getting back to the Zephyr and we’re going to do that again. Preferably a lot and without the gunfire.” 

Introducing the Boyfriend

Dean had never felt so nervous. What if they didn’t like him? What if they had a problem because he was a him? Sure, his family were surprisingly accepting of Cas, but his friends were a whole different matter.
He’d arranged to meet with his friends a couple of weeks ago with the intention of introducing them to his boyfriend Castiel. They all seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea, but of course Dean hadn’t mentioned the nature of his and Cas’ relationship. Best to do that face to face. He swallowed nervously, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. This was a bad idea. Maybe he should call it off. Say he’s ill or something.

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Eskimo Kisses and Christmas Wishes

Summary: Dan gets a nasty surprise when he at last comes out to his family just before Christmas. Alone and out in the cold, he makes the trip up to Manchester where he spends Christmas with Phil and his family. It’s a struggle for Dan, being in such a loving family environment when he has just been evicted from his own, but Phil does his best to look after Dan and cheer him up as best he can.

Word count: 10.5k

Genre: fluff, comfort, a little smut*

Warnings: mentions of homophobia and food, some smut*

*(the smut isn’t majorly important to the plot so you can skip past it - start and end are marked)

A/N: Yes, this is a Christmas fic. It may be the middle of April but that’s not going to stop me. I think I started writing it just after Christmas but other fics have got in the way of me finishing it before now. It’s sometimes nice to have a little reminder of winter with you throughout the rest of the year. Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Eve Eve:

Dan’s POV:

I’d got to my family house six hours ago. I’d planned on staying for the next week, but I was leaving now. I thought I could finally come out to them as gay, after all these years, but it couldn’t have gone worse. Now I was standing in the dark driveway, my suitcase in one hand, my phone in the other. They’d practically disowned me, telling me that I wasn’t welcome to stay for Christmas after all. They were even so heartless as to force me out in the freezing cold at 11pm at night.

Slowly trudging in the direction of the train station, my feet already going numb from the cold, I did the only thing that came to mind. I called Phil. All I wanted was to be with him right now, to cry on his shoulder, to have him hug me and tell me everything’s going to be alright. I needed my boyfriend and I was going to do whatever it took to get to see him.

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Y/n POV.

You turned off the light switch in the bathroom, walking into your room where you knew Jughead would be. You see Jug resting on the bed on his laptop, probably working on his novel.

You walked to your draws, picking a pair of socks out so your feet don’t get cold during the night. You turned around to see Jughead eyeing you with a raised brow “What?” you asked with the same expression.

“nothing you just look cute is all.” He smiled closing his laptop, devoting his attention to you for the night. “Uhh, thank you.” you blushed and crossed your arms suddenly shy as he started at you.

You walked to the bed, sitting next to Jug. “Whats wrong?” He asked and smiled at you. “Nothing.” You lied . He gave you a look, the look that made you know he wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

“I’m just cold is all.” You shrug. “Come here Y/n” Jug smiled, opening his arms. You scoot up next to his and into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder.

After a few moments of just laying there in silence, you hear Jug let out a sigh. You look up and see him smiling down at you. You knew that smile.

“Stop.” You giggled as he started to tickle you. “Please?” You pouted through your laughs.
He smirked at you. “ I’m just playing Y/n/n.” He laughed, knowing how you hated to be tickled.

“Jug? Why have you still got your hat on? We’re literally in bed” you laugh as he pulls a funny face at you and mimicked you. You laughed even more at his defensiveness for the beanie.

He sighed and rolled his eyes as he finally took it off, muttering something about always wearing it. He tossed it on to the bed side table. “Happy now?” He asked with another eye roll. “ Wait, you seriously wear that to bed? Gross, that’s gotta smell so bad.” You grimace at the though of it. He just huffs again.

It was silent for a few minutes before you laughed again. “I’m still cold, can I wear your beanie?” You try. “No” he deadpans while you just laugh more. “Here.” He pulled the cover’s over you both, cuddling you to you.

“Goodnight” Jug whispered turning off the lamp next to him.
“Night Juggie, I’ll get your beanie one day.” You muttered back with a smile, tangling your legs with his. You hear him sigh “whatever, you dork. I love you.” “Love you too.”

Jimin Scenario: Farewell.

Request:  Jimin scenario where we are really good friends,then I tell him I have feelings for him,but he doesn’t feel the same way, then we started to be distant with each other and we talk after a long time and decide not be friends anymore ,and we cry as we walk away from each other.

Genre: Angst

If you could pick a word for the moment, you’d chose cold. Because that was everything you felt, like an omnipresent force washing over you after the words left your mouth.

You were dying to reach him, your Jimin, the one with the sparkling eyes and the welcoming smile who was nowhere to be seen now and was instead replaced by a pale, awfully surprised blank face that had nothing, absolutely nothing to answer to your sudden, stuttered and nervous confession of your feelings for him. So your hands stood on your lap, fingers intertwined with a strength enough to turn your knuckles a harsh tone of white and make your fingertips tingle their way to numbness.

-I… Y/N I… - his lips opened and closed several times, over and over again, searching for air, for the words he couldn’t say and the feelings he couldn’t return; and the sky high wall of ice bricks that was raising between both of you felt thicker, heavier, settling you at kilometers light distance from him even though your were sitting one in front of the other in the small and familiar coffee shop you liked to visit ever so often.

You stared down at your intertwined hands, not wanting to look anymore into his eyes, afraid that if you stared long enough into the dark chocolate brown pupils you loved, you’d be able to find pity on them.

A sigh left Jimin’s lips and echoed in the predominant silence that took over both of you despite the soft rain that was falling outside and hitting rhythmically with its little drops the window to your left.Your eyes rose to him and you saw him take a deep breath, his hand got lost into the messy locks of his hair and pushed his fringe back, his eyes were now fixed somewhere outside the window.

- I didn’t know you felt this way about me… - His voice was small, as if groping the situation, holding back. You swallowed harshly, your throat was dry and rasping, and you fought to find your voice again. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting from him; at all.

His eyes moved to yours and held your gaze, and by that moment you already knew you shouldn’t have said anything about your love for him, anything at all. But how to take words back now? you wondered, trying to keep yourself together when you saw Jimin was going to speak again.

-Y/N…- he cleared his throat, that was as dry as yours. -Y/N if I knew it I would have… I’m sorry… but I don’t feel the same way as you-

There it was, the thing you feared the most, rejection.

Jimin kept on talking, something between the lines of you being his best friend, like a little sister he couldn’t see with those eyes, but you weren’t really paying attention anymore. The rumble of your soul crumbling in tiny little pieces was deafening.

You stared outside the window, watching the gloomy sky and trying to hold back the tears when you felt them settling at the corners of your eyes and wondering how could four simple words as Jimin I love you, which once felt so right, could suddenly feel so despicably wrong and out of place.

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anonymous asked:

Poly Pharah and Mercy (you could single them out if you wish) finding out their crush is a Phoenix. Just to save you time a Phoenix is a fiery born bird who according to mythical legend, is reborn from its ashes when it "dies" through combustion. Symbolically "The Phoenix bird has come to symbolize many things including the sun, time, consecration, resurrection, immortality, and renewal in general." Feel free to look some more stuff about it since it's an amazing creature.

[Name] was a jack of all trades, spending each day in every part of the base helping however they could. They would help Angela in the med bay in the mornings and visit Pharah in the armory in the evenings to help her with weapon maintenance. The two of them had grown very close to [Name] during those times, and both began to harbor feelings for them as well. It wasn’t until they both gossiped to each other at lunch that they learned they both had a crush on them!

Lucky for the two, they were both very level-headed people and would even share an oxygen tank if they had to. Fareeha and Mercy didn’t mind at all having to share [Name], but they only hoped they would choose both of them in the end. And if not, they were good enough friends that they’d be happy for the other.

One day at base, the two had planned to surprise [Name] with some hot coco. Mercy brought the mugs and Pharah brought the marshmallows. The two found them on the balcony overlooking the watch point, hunched over the railing as their shoulders rose and fell shakily. The two exchanged worried glances before Pharah set down the marshmallows and approached.

“[Name]?” she called, “Are you alright?”

Their head whirled around, a panicked look on their face. Their eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them and their skin was strangely more taut than usually. Fareeha cringed at their state as she slowly reached a hand towards them.

“[Name]…what’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“Pharah!” they gasped, pulling away from her touch, “Mercy? W-What are you doing here?”

“We thought you’d like to sit and chat with us for a bit,” she smiled, “We brought hot coco,”

[Name]’s eyes darted over to Angela who held up the mugs and thermos for them to see. Of all the times that they wanted to hang out…

“I–that sounds great, but n-not now,” they rasped, “I’ll be inside in a bit, so–time, just give me time,”

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” Mercy said sweetly, “We can–”

But her voice died in her throat as [Name] suddenly disintegrated before her eyes. It was definitely the least expected thing to happen! Throwing the mugs down on the table, Angela rushed over to the pile of soot.

“Angela, what happened?!” Pharah barked.

“I-I don’t know!” she stammered.

She had never had a patient turn into ash before! She had never even heard of a condition like that! Just as she reached for her comm link to report a medical emergency, she saw the soot begin to smolder and glow.

“Hold on…” Mercy muttered.

The two slowly backed away as the ash began to shiver and burn like a fire rekindling. Then a wind swirled around it, creating a small cloud of burning ash until it solidified into a fiery red bird. Pharah and Mercy were speechless at the sight of the bird who sat in front of them blankly as if to say “what’s your problem?” Then the bird glowed again and morphed back into their shared crush, looking just as beautiful as the day they arrived on base. They stared at the two with a nervous smile as they stared right back at them with mouths ajar.

“Sorry about that guys,” they grimaced, “I was hoping nobody would have to see that…”

“S…See what? What was that?” Fareeha rushed to their side again, taking their hand like a concerned mother.

“I have never seen anything like it,” Mercy breathed.

[Name] shifted their weight uncomfortably, “Well…You have to promise you won’t tell anyone on base but I’m a phoenix. About every two years I need to rejuvenate like that. Y’know, gotta stay young and fresh!”

No matter how hard they tried to alleviate the tension, the two women just kept staring at them, making them increasingly worried. Suddenly, the two embraced her in a warm hug, sharing the pheonix’s body heat after regenerating.

“You scared us to death, [Name],” Mercy mumbled into them.

“At the very least, warn us next time,” Fareeha chuckled.

–Mod Sirana

Rebel Teen Seiji AU

A SYRM AU where Iwaizumi doesn’t find Oikawa until 15-16 years later, when they’re in their mid-thirties and Seiji is in high school:

·Iwaizumi gets transferred to a hospital in Tokyo and is moving into his apartment when the door opens next door and his neighbor pops out to see what the commotion is about.

·It’s Oikawa. He may have not seen Oikawa in over ten years, but he’d never forget his childhood best friend, his courtside partner, the one he let get away.

·Distantly Iwaizumi remembers that Oikawa had gone to university in Tokyo so it made sense that he was still living here.

·Oikawa is wearing an apron and holding a ladle in his hand, looking incredibly domestic. It makes Iwaizumi’s heart clench, of course Oikawa has settled down. In fact, it was probably weird that Iwaizumi hadn’t yet.

·Oikawa’s eyes widen as he takes in Iwaizumi’s face, eyes trailing down his whole frame before flitting back to stare into Iwaizumi’s own eyes.

·“Iwa-chan!?” I-Is that you?” Oikawa drops the ladle in his hand and curses as it clatters to the ground.

·Iwaizumi bends down to pick it up and offers it to him. “…It really is you Oikawa. It’s been a while.” Iwaizumi finds himself a little breathless.

·“It has…” Oikawa takes the ladle carefully from Iwaizumi, holds it close almost like a child would hold a security blanket. “I hope you’ve been well, Iwa-chan.”

·Iwaizumi’s gaze lingers on Oikawa’s hands and notices he isn’t wearing a wedding ring. His scent doesn’t smell like his mate either, but Iwaizumi quashes the small amount of hope bubbling in his chest. Oikawa is cooking, so he might have taken his ring off, and maybe he uses scent blockers.

·Oikawa seems particularly flustered, cheeks red and fidgeting restlessly, but Iwaizumi figures that Oikawa had assumed they would never see each other again. Oikawa was never at the team reunions either, completely gone from the day he ran from home all those years ago.

·Iwaizumi had the distinct feeling that Oikawa had been avoiding him, but that ache had eased away with all the years that had passed. Though now, with Oikawa right in front of him, close enough to touch, the sting in his heart returned.

·Iwaizumi has an arm outstretched towards Oikawa before he realizes it, but a voice stops him from reaching Oikawa.

·“What are you doing to my Mom?” A teen comes stomping towards them from the top of the stairs and he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, with a duffle bag strapped across his chest.

·When he gets within a foot of Iwaizumi, the boy knocks his head back to glare at him, and his hood falls. Iwaizumi freezes in shock.

·This boy is the spitting image of Oikawa, but his mess of curls are black, his face has a light scatter of freckles, and his eyes are hazel. He’s about as tall as Iwaizumi, and extremely pissed with a ferocity that Iwaizumi had never seen in Oikawa himself. But the anger the teen was expressing felt really familiar for some reason.

·“Seiji! You’re home.” Iwaizumi heard Oikawa say.

·“Yeah,” Seiji says. He circles around Iwaizumi like a predator stalking his prey before standing next to Oikawa. “Who’s this scrub?”

·Iwaizumi can tell this kid is a beta, but he seems more threatening than an alpha. He’s got a lot denser muscle than Oikawa had at that age (outside of volleyball, Seiji boxes), coupled with the ever-present grumpy expression and abrasive tone, the boy is intimidating.

·“Seiji, come inside and go to your room,” Oikawa sighs.

·“Not until this alpha harassing you at our door answers me.” Seiji puffs his chest out a little.

·“Seiji,” Oikawa says sternly.

·“But Ma—”

·“To your room now. I won’t repeat myself. You’re home late again. This man is fine, he’s—an old friend. So head inside already, your dinner is in the fridge.”

·Seiji pouts and for the first time since Iwaizumi has seen him, Seiji actually looks like Oikawa.

·“Ugh fine,” Seiji eventually relents, turning on his heel and going inside.

·Awkward silence ensues a bit after Seiji is gone.

·“Sorry,” Oikawa laughs tiredly. “He’s in his rebellious phase, I think.”

·Oikawa shuffles his feet a bit before banging and crashing from inside alert him, and he gives Iwaizumi a hasty goodbye before yelling “Seiji!” and shutting the door.

·After that reunion, Iwaizumi and Oikawa run into each other pretty often on the way to and from work, or doing everyday tasks like grocery shopping and taking out the trash.

·Slowly they fall into comfortable casual conversations again.

·Iwaizumi avoids broaching the subject of Seiji’s father though, it’s not his business, especially when Oikawa had been missing for more than decade. (Iwaizumi does find it odd the with all their run-ins, he’s yet to see a spouse)

·One day, Oikawa seems particularly worn-out and worried, so Iwaizumi has no choice to ask what’s wrong.

·Oikawa sighs with a bleak smile. “My son is a good kid… but he’s been acting out a lot lately. Maybe it’s my fault; being raised be a single parent isn’t easy, and I’m an omega no less.”

·Iwaizumi tries not to be shocked by this new bit of knowledge. A lot of things concerning Seiji’s behavior and Oikawa’s actions suddenly made sense.

·“Oikawa, it’s pretty clear your son loves and adores you.” More like Seiji was such a mama’s boy he was furiously protective of his mother.

·“I know, but—”

·“I’m pretty sure it’s just adolescence getting to him. You remember how we were at that age, always at each other’s throats, impatient, and constantly pent up with energy we weren’t sure how to expend…”

·Oikawa laughs at that and the tension diffuses.

·A couple of days later Iwaizumi runs into Seiji at the gym (Iwaizumi was doing some cardio, but on his way to the locker room he walks past a separate room with a boxing ring and finds Seiji taking quick jabs at a punching bag in the corner.

·Iwaizumi approaches him and Seiji glares at him when he sees him.

·“Stay away from my mom,” Seiji growls at him.

·“I’m your neighbor, that’s going to be a little hard,” Iwaizumi calmly replies.

·“Listen man,” Seiji says, ripping the headphones out of his ears. Iwaizumi can faintly hear music from a band he likes playing from them. “The last thing my mom needs is an old flame or whatever you are to mess with him, ok?”

·Seiji shoulders past him and picks up his duffle bag. “My mom has no interest in dating. Hasn’t since I was born, and probably even before that when whoever my piece of shit father was left him. Plenty of guys like you have showed up to bother my mom before, so leave him alone.”

·With that, Seiji walks toward the door, but Iwaizumi calls after him.

·“Maybe you should go home early enough to eat dinner with your mother sometimes.”

·Seiji slams the door on his way out.

·A few weeks later Iwaizumi gets a patient and it’s Seiji, accompanied by a panicked teammate.

·Seiji is sulking with a sprained ankle. He definitely looks like his mother now.

·Iwaizumi examines and treats Seiji professionally, while Seiji attempts to burn a hole in Iwaizumi’s head through his intense glare.

·A nurse goes in to teach Seiji how to wrap his ankle, massage it, ice it, rest it, etc. Iwaizumi goes out to see the teammate Seiji came with sitting outside with his head in his hands, muttering “it’s all my fault.”

·Iwaizumi asks him what’s wrong, mostly to diffuse his panic and prevent him from going into an attack.

·The teammate explains how he had been accompanying Seiji for late-night extra practices on his spikes and serve receives [truly like Iwaizumi, I know] but he tossed the ball to Seiji bad, yet Seiji still tried to slam it down, landing funny on his foot and then falling over because the landing rolled his ankle.

·Iwaizumi wants to laugh almost, but he’s livid that Seiji has the same self-destructive tendencies as his mother.

·Iwaizumi sends the boy home telling him not to worry, and then goes to turn in Seiji’s paperwork, as well as make a call.

·He finds Seiji later trying to hobble out of his room discretely, but Iwaizumi stops him.

·“You can’t leave yet.”

·He glares. “You’re not the boss of me. I’m leaving.”

·“You need a crutch, and you have a prescription pickup for a pain killer.”

·“I don’t have the money on hand for that, so no can do.”

·“I know. Which is why I called your mother.”

·“You did what!?” Seiji seethes.

·Just as Seiji hisses those words, Oikawa comes in with “Seiji!”

·Seiji’s face immediately into falls from anger to horror. “Ma, I—”

·“What were you thinking!?” Oikawa yells, and Seiji flinches just the slightest.

·“It’s not that big a deal—” Seiji weakly argues.

·“Iwa-chan told me you need a crutch and pain killers! Don’t try to write this off as ‘not a big deal,’ young man.” Oikawa says, with a trademark parent look of disapproval.

·Seiji whips around to glare at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi tries not to feel smug.

·“I’m really fine Mom,” Seiji says when he turns back to Oikawa.

·“How can you be serious about volleyball if you don’t treat yourself, your own body, seriously?” Oikawa asks.

·Something snaps, Iwaizumi can feel it.

·“I’m as serious about volleyball as you are!” Seiji snarls.

·Again, his anger isn’t like Oikawa’s. Oikawa’s anger is a quiet intensity that chills people to the people to the bone, elicits fear from a person’s very core. Seiji’s anger was more explosive, more aggressive, more forceful, something that overwhelms a person and sweeps everything else away. Iwaizumi has felt that anger before, but he doesn’t remember where.

·Oikawa stares at Seiji impassively, having obvious experience with this anger for a very long time.

·“That’s rich coming from you, Ma! Everyone knows you pushed your body past its limits when you were practicing!”

·“Then why are you repeating my mistakes?”

·“I just want to be as good as you were! I want to make you proud, I, I…” Seiji’s voice breaks with emotion.

·“Seiji…” Oikawa murmurs sadly.

·Iwaizumi claps his hands loudly to draw their attention to him. “Alright, that’s enough out of both of you. You’re both being idiots. Seiji, you need to relax, you’re only a first year in high school. You have time to grow, and you can do so without injuring yourself. Oikawa, don’t be so hard on Seiji. He’s a kid, he’s bound to push himself and make mistakes, I know you’re concerned don’t make him feel worse for it. Think about the position you put your own parents did all those years ago.”

·Oikawa and Seiji wore matching pouts by the end of Iwaizumi’s speech, properly chastised.

·Finally, Oikawa sighs. “Iwa-chan’s right. I’m sorry Seiji. I was too harsh. I’m happy you aren’t hurt more than this. Now please practice patience while you heal up.” Oikawa pulls Seiji into a hug when he’s done speaking.

·Seiji’s lip wobbles and he closes his eyes as he buried his face in Oikawa’s shoulder and returns the hug. When he pulls away, he quickly swipes at his eyes.

·“How long am I on the bench for?” he asks Iwaizumi with a slightly petulant expression.

·“Three weeks,” Iwaizumi told him.

·Seiji’s eyes widened much like his mother’s when Oikawa was surprised, but he quickly schools his expression by taking a deep calming breath, something Iwaizumi remembers teaching Oikawa when they were in high school.


·Oikawa squeezes Seiji’s shoulder as he helps him away, giving a small wave to Iwaizumi as they left.

·Iwaizumi waves back with a fluttering in his heart. He knew what these feelings were, he knew they never really went away with Oikawa, but he also knew how sensitive his son was. He couldn’t intrude on what Oikawa and his son had.

·Seiji goes to the hospital periodically for checkups on his ankle, and on one visit, he holds out a bento box with the hand that wasn’t gripping his crutch.

·“What’s this?” Iwaizumi asks.

·“Gift from my Mom. He told me to give it to you if I saw you. So here.”

·Iwaizumi takes it. “Thank you.”

·“Whatever. I guess it’s ok for you to talk to my Mom. He looks happy after conversations with you.”

·After Seiji gets better and can’t deliver bentos anymore, Oikawa invites Iwaizumi over to have dinner.

·Seiji turns up to dinner more often then, on the excuse that he has to monitor Iwaizumi to make sure he didn’t do anything weird.

·Seiji ends up suffering through watching his Mom and their neighbor flirting like crazy, and he feels his dinner coming back up.

·“Ma… Are you sure you and Iwa-san aren’t, like, an item?”

·Oikawa drops the plate he’s washing and it clatters in the sink but thankfully doesn’t break.

·“S-S-Seiji, what are you even saying honey? Go to bed Sei-chan.”

·Seiji narrows his eyes. His mother never called him ‘Sei-chan’ unless he was trying to distract him.

·Seiji decides he’s going to get to the bottom of this.

·Meanwhile Iwaizumi and Oikawa are getting so close it was almost like they never had that huge clunk of time splintering their relationship.


·Iwaizumi tells himself it was because they were so used to each other that they were able to fall into their rhythm so easily again, not like they were soulmates or anything.

·Iwaizumi and Seiji also begin to bond with each other, Seiji looks less grumpy and more often happy, comes home more often, and stops pushing himself so much. He learns to accept mistakes me makes and grow from them. It makes Seiji more relaxed.

·Still, Seiji starts to go through everything in storage, finds old pictures of his mother and Iwaizumi as children, classmates, teammates. He finds old gameplay videos, watches them play perfectly on court with a tightness in his chest. But there was nothing past high school.

·After days, Seiji is about to give up when he sees something stick out of an old dusty book at the bottom of a box.

·Of course it’s a theory book on aliens. Seiji rolls his eyes as he plucks a letter from between the pages.

·It’s fully addressed to a residence in Hokkaido, dated about five years ago. Iwaizumi’s full name is written on the front.

·Seiji swallows nervously as he opens the sealed envelope and reads the letter.

·“Dear Iwa-chan,

·I don’t know where to begin. It’s been ten years since I last saw you. And Hajime, I…I have something I should have told you years ago. The thing is…”

·Seiji finishes the letter and his whole body is trembling. He doesn’t know what emotion is exactly wracking his body, but the letter is crushed in his clenched fist.

·He emerges from the storage room and slams the door behind him.

·Oikawa is reading on the couches and jumped at the sound, putting his book down and setting his glasses aside.

·“Seiji? I told you not to slam doors.”

·“How could you!? Why didn’t you tell me that Iwa-san is my father?”

·Oikawa’s face pales and his eyes flit to the letter in Seiji’s hand.

·“Where did you get that letter?”

·“Don’t change the subject! Tell me why!”

·“Seiji, Iwa-chan doesn’t even know you’re his son. Hell, he doesn’t know he’s a father.”

·“What?” The rage drains out of Seiji. He remembers the letter’s words, and realizes that he had been blinded with shock in learning his father’s identity, but the letter was a confession about Seiji.

·“Seiji, please calm down and let me explain,” Oikawa says, approaching Seiji.

·Seiji shakes his head. “I need to clear my head.”

·He leaves the apartment. And doesn’t return for two days.

·Oikawa is obviously distraught and on the verge of calling the police. Iwaizumi finds him like this, and Oikawa tells him everything, even showing Iwaizumi the letter Seiji had found. Oikawa is breaking down; he doesn’t care that he revealed his greatest secret. He’d give away any secret to get his son back.

·Iwaizumi surprisingly holds it together. He hands the letter back to Oikawa and tells him that he’ll find Seiji.

·Iwaizumi doesn’t have to look far. He finds the closest open field and sure enough Seiji is sitting there, staring up at the stars. Iwaizumi’s heart clenches because Seiji looks so much like Oikawa.

·Iwaizumi sits next to him and Seiji jumps. “Iwa-san!”

·Iwaizumi ruffles his hair. “Hey there. Thinking hard?”

·“If you’re here…does that mean Mom told you?”

·Iwaizumi nods, but doesn’t look away from the stars, tracks constellations he and Oikawa mapped as children. Iwaizumi nearly wishes he could return to such simpler times with Oikawa, but if he did, he wouldn’t be sitting next to his son at this moment.

·“Are you angry with him?” Seiji asks tentatively.

·“A little. But it’s more complicated than that. At the time he got pregnant, Oikawa and I were going separate ways for university. A relationship wouldn’t be very feasible, let alone raising a child together. One of us would have to make sacrifices. Oikawa made the choice for both of us. If I was younger, I might have yelled at him to stop shouldering burdens all on his own. A part of me still wants to.” Iwaizumi pauses. “The fact is we can’t change the past, but only move forward from where our pasts have led us. And you must realize Seiji, your mother loves you and did everything to protect you.”

·Seiji wipes his eyes briefly. “You really love Mom, don’t you?”

·“I do.” Iwaizumi stares into the color of his own eyes reflected in Seiji’s.

·“That’s what I don’t understand! If you two love each other, why couldn’t we have been a family sooner?”

·Iwaizumi sighs. “A lot has happened, years of estrangement and miscommunication. It’s my fault for not looking for Tooru harder, not fighting to be by his and your side.”

·Seiji stares at the grass, chewing his lip. Then he stands. “I’ll go to my friend’s place and pick up my stuff, and then I’ll head home. Let my Mom know?”

·Iwaizumi stands. “Sure.” Before Seiji leaves, Iwaizumi pulls him into a hug.

·A normalcy is established between the three of them afterwards, but the relationship seems a little shaky. One day while Iwaizumi is over, Seiji accidentally calls him “Dad” and everyone freezes.

·It leads to the three of them sitting down and discussing all their feelings, and It’s decided that given Oikawa and Iwaizumi were practically dating (“Just be official about it already, god,” Seiji groans) they should function as a family unit.

·The live like that for a few months until Seiji has a breakdown one day when he gets scared that Iwaizumi might leave, but Iwaizumi comforts him with telling him that he had been thinking of proposing.

·“You don’t think it’s too late for formalities?”

·“’Course not Dad! Mom will be so happy he might faint.”

·“Are you sure…?”

·“Don’t worry Pops, I got this!” Seiji says with a wink, looking far too mischievous and like Oikawa for Iwaizumi’s liking.

·Seiji tries to hint at more commitment to Oikawa, but spins it in a way that makes it sound like Iwaizumi wants to leave him.

·Chaos in the Iwaizumi-Oikawa household is averted when Iwaizumi pulls out the ring.

·Iwaizumi nearly gets a concussion when Oikawa tackles him to the floor, and Seiji dogpiles on top of them, nearly killing both of his parents.

anonymous asked:

Does Alphonse confuse you as a character? I find it really difficult to characterize him, especially after brotherhood came out. I can't say what it is or maybe it's just that they haven't put as much effort into Alphonse as Edward. I feel weird about him, I don't know why he does what he does, how he feels, who he is and I don't know if its because I fail to understand him or because it's because there *is* nothing to understand. It makes me feel a little down.. I hope this isn't too vague.

I’ve written Alphonse a bit more than I have most FMA characters, so I like to think that I have some grasp for his voice, but I think I can definitely see where you’re coming from? His traits are certainly less clear-cut by canon than Edward’s. I do, however, think that his characterization is very consistent and can be pegged down.

Please keep in mind that I’m only approaching my own perspective on Al from a strictly 03 perspective. My analytical experience with the manga is slim and none, and there are a lot of fans who could characterize him in that continuity waaaay better than I could. Arakawa’s Alphonse is inherently different from 03′s Alphonse simply because they were written by different people, and I think that’s important to remember. So try not to let Brotherhood’s Al muddle your perspective of 03 Al. They’re two totally different characters, and this is most evident in the strength and nature of his bond with Edward. They are much closer and more codependent in 03, both for better and for worse.

I actually described what I see as his personality in moderate detail several years back for an RP app of sorts (though tbh it would be more accurately described as prose-based D&D), so I have a few major points saved that might be helpful? Just keep in mind that I’m not exactly an Al Expert, and I don’t claim to be. Hopefully this just provides a little insight?

  • Alphonse is the passivity and thoughtfulness to Edward’s impulsiveness. These traits serve to balance the brothers as protagonists, but also becomes a source of conflict for them relatively often. You will find that many of the brothers’ traits are built like this, with one countering the other. This organically makes their story more interesting.
  • He is extremely patient by nature.
  • Alphonse will always look for the good in another, will always be willing to put himself in another’s shoes or examine a different perspective. This is immediately established in the first two episodes, when despite his rigid scientific background, Al tried to see a different perspective on the Lioran’s religious fanaticism. Another counter to Edward, who is stubbornly convinced that the world operates in one way only.
  • Because he is so willing to see the good in others, Al is very trusting. His intuition is often correct. There’s a reason he and Scar formed such a unique bond early on, in spite of Scar’s wrongful actions against him and his brother.
  • A promise is a promise, to Al. He is naturally altruistic.
  • He has developed something of a fixation on sensation, since he was deprived of it. He was saved the shock of suddenly being flesh and blood again because of the memory loss in 51, but I can imagine it was a bit jarring when all of that came back at the end of CoS. There are lots of interesting ways to spin this unique shift. How he eats, how he fights, how he moves, the sudden need for sleep… They’re all factors to be accounted for, depending on what point in canon you’re writing him from.
  • Like many kids with one older sibling, Al has identified himself and Edward as a team since early childhood because he has never known a time when Edward was not present. In most kids, this mentality eases off as the siblings grow older and become more independent young adults, but due to the nature of the Elrics’ rocky childhood, this bond of codependency strengthens. Al’s dependence on Ed is arguably stronger than Ed’s on Al for the reason I mentioned: Al has never known a world without Ed. He repeatedly emphasizes that they’re all each other has. 
  • Alphonse has a severe survivor’s guilt complex. This digs back as early as the brothers’ human transmutation incident. Al has internally identified himself as the voice of reason in the Elric Duo for a long time, thus he viewed it as his responsibility to listen to his gut and tell Edward that he wouldn’t help him in the attempted resurrection. Although he holds internalized resentment for being trapped in the armor, it is not exclusively directed at Edward, and when it explodes outward, it takes form more as general despair than rage. His selfless nature makes him put others first. You’ll notice that he always emphasizes getting Ed’s limbs back before his own body.
  • Al isn’t a natural blame-placer, and he has a very firm moral sense of his own value. He questions why he has lived through so many near-death moments when so many other people have died along the way. This is a burden to him, and something that he feels he must somehow repay. This and his love for Edward is what drives him to sacrifice himself for Ed in 51.
  • Al can have a hair-trigger temper, and this is especially evident in anything that involves Ed. I can absolutely believe that he would be moved to extreme violence on Ed’s behalf, even if Ed doesn’t fully believe it himself. See: Al claiming that he could have ripped Ed’s limbs right off Wrath’s body. Given the state of mind he was in at the time? I think he would have been capable of it. Al has also compared himself to Scar in the context of avenging Edward. If someone were to kill his brother, Al says himself that he would be willing to go to extreme measures in retaliation.

I think that’s my gist of it? 

Never Too Late

Summary: Bucky’s POV. The reader lives with the Avengers after they rescue her from HYDRA, having been put through almost the same torture as Bucky, but has trouble adjusting to her new life. Based off of the song “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,436 (lyrics not included)

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, a kind-of suicide attempt, depression, angst. No actual death though.

A/N: guys I’m telling you right now, if you have a trigger problem with suicide, DO NOT READ. Don’t put yourself through that just to read this. I can’t even tell you to skip to a certain part of the story because it takes up basically the whole story. I chose to write this because Three Days Grace is one of my favorite bands and as someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, I was personally helped by this song and it’s one of my favorite songs ever. Writing this fic meant a lot to me.

Originally posted by heatherpotter

This world will never be
What I expected
And if I don’t belong
Who would have guessed it
I will not leave alone
Everything that I own
To make you feel like it’s not too late
It’s never too late

Tony reserves Friday nights for movie nights. I usually like to keep to myself, but Steve insists seeing movies is a good way for us to catch up on everything we’ve missed since the forties. Honestly, I believe Tony just likes to parade his wealth and constantly remind the team that we live under his roof, but I’ve been trying to be a good sport and play along. Not just to please Steve, but for Y/N’s sake.

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