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wangxianficrecs · 17 days

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I'd Be Home With You by thunderwear

I’d Be Home With You

by thunderwear

T, 5k, Madam Lan/Cangse Sanren

Summary: “And if I steal her away?” “Then we figure it out together.” What if Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze took Madame Lan and her children from Cloud Recesses to live happily ever after? Kay's comments: Sometimes I just think about Mama Lan and I get so sad. She deserved better, OK? And today, in my time of need, this fic came to me and offered my a lovely canon divergence where Mama Lan was Cangse Sanren's first love, so of course she's going to Gusu to break her out of her jail and of course Wei Changze is there too, absolutely supportive. Cangse Sanren has two hands!! One for Mama Lan and one for Wei Changze. And I love that for all of them. Excerpt: “Do you want to meet my son?” She asked, giving one last squeeze to Luo Sihua’s waist. They pulled back to look down at A-Ying who hid a little bit farther behind her robes at the sudden attention. There was one last hitch to Luo Sihua’s chest before she took a deep breath and then leaned down to introduce herself to A-Ying. “You can call me Madame Lan.” The fury that ripped her was unexpected but not undeserved. He’d taken everything else from her, and now she didn’t even have her name? “No.” Wei Ying jolted in surprise beside her when she spoke and hid his face in her robes again, but she didn’t have it in her to care. She was too angry. “No, A-Ying, you’ll call her Luo Sihua.” Luo Sihua looked up and met her gaze with a soft, sad expression on her face, and neither of them looked away as Cangse Sanren bit out, “My son will not call you by his name.”

pov cangse sanren, canon divergence, cangse sanren and wei changze live, madam lan live, madam lan deserves better, cangse sanren/madam lan, cangse sanren/wei changze, family feels, polyamory, fluff and angst, angst with a happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, gusu lan sect rules, lan family feels, wei wuxian isn't adopted by the jiangs, families of choice, fix-it

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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cutesyscreenname · 1 year

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I'd Be Home With You

One Shot

Pairing: Joel x fem!OFC

Summary: Based off the song In A Week by Hozier ft. Karen Crowley. On patrol, Joel and his love are attacked by clickers. They aren't so lucky this time so they do what they've always said they would if they both got bitten.

Word Count: 712

Warnings: death, decay, suicide, general angst and sorrow. I cried editing this.

A/N: I'm sorry I don't know why I felt compelled to write this. I hope its well done enough to make up for how deeply sad the story is.

We lay here for years or for hours

Your hand in my hand

So still and discreet

So long we become the flowers

We'd feed well the land

And worry the sheep

All is quiet in the vast expanse of tall grass and wildflowers. The prey have skittered into hiding, the predators have had their fill. Scavengers have circled and gone away. All that remains is the fanned blanket of fungi weaving across their still forms, pushing up around their entwined fingers gone stiff.

The first comes out of nowhere, shoving her to the ground in an instant. She presses against its chest as the thing writhes and gnashes relentlessly above her. She can't risk reaching for her weapon and give way to the force of it's weight, clearing a beeline between herself and its gaping maw.

The dull scrape of a knife sheathed in its skull, followed by the creature slumping away from her trembling body, brings only a second of relief.

"Joel! Behind you!"

He's older now, still strong as ever but just a hair slower then he once was and this brief lapse in reflex costs him everything. He manages to shoulder the monster onto the forest floor and she takes her opportunity to return his favor, sinking her blade between its unseeing eyes.

The sun's midsummer kiss nudges the vegetation to rise around them, unsuccessful in waking the pair from their cool slumber.

She sees it on him first, the teeth marks. Hearts flailing with adrenaline, neither feel the impact of their combat.

"Joel-" she chokes on her lover's name, tears already careening down the slopes of her muddied cheeks.

He notes the gash on her hand as she reaches for him, soft brown eyes turning to vivid umber, catching the setting sunlight as they wet with the agonizing realization.

"Joel you're bit."

His voice is low, broken. "You are too, baby."

The flies, the flowers, the crows, and the cordyceps. They dance together in harmony, taking what they need from the stillness. If there was anything to give back, their silhouettes refuse it kindly.

After minutes, maybe hours, their tears slow and still in each other's embrace.

"Okay baby. We talked about this. We're going out together. Just as we were, we ain't turnin'."

She nods slowly, hands cupping his saltwater scruff.

"I know baby. Just like we always said. It'll be alright."

"I ain't missin' this time." He says it to reassure her, so she won't fret that he might go mad all alone.

Hand in hand, resting on a plush bed of blooming pasture, eyes on each other's finding peace in what they find there, one last time.

"It's time, baby. I'm goin' home with you."

"I love you, Joel."

"I love you, darlin'."

Hammers pulled back, cool steel placing a goodnight kiss on their temples, counting together.

"3...2...1..."

Starlings scatter to the horizon.

When they didn't return that night from patrol, the search party began immediately. Joel's brother takes the lead, panic only sated by taking action.

It takes nearly a week, the groups rotating shifts and pushing out further each pass, until they find them.

The meadow is eerily silent, the tips of boots in grass catching the eye of the man who gives the alert.

Tommy comes running at the commotion before he's being held back by his fellow searchers.

Let me through right now that's my GODDAMN BROTHER! THATS MY FUCKING BROTHER LET ME GO!

There's nothing to be done, the narrative clear as day as mushroom caps blossom through the wounds at their temples.

Joel always knew things never turn out as planned, but since meeting her he felt certain that he would always end up where he was meant to be.

As the last light slips softly below the treeline so goes their essence back to the stars, ready to again run the race into each other's arms, footing surer with each pass through the cosmos.

They've done it time and time again, stardust and atoms cut from the same cloth.

He knew he would always end up home with her.

And they'd find us in a week

When the cattle show fear

After the insects have made their claim

After the foxes have known our taste

I'd be home with you

I won't lie I've been shit at keeping track of the everything tag list so I'll just tag who I think might like it 😬😬😬:

@pedgeitopascal @mylostloversbookmarks @atinylittlepain @ladamedusoif @avastrasposts @ssuperficialspacecadett @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @iamasaddie @jksprincess10

#joel miller fic #tlou fic #tw: suicide #joel miller x ofc #tommy miller #in a week #Hozier #I'd be home with you

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ourlittleforever · 1 year

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i love having f/os w facial hair. wanna rub my face against their beards/stubble like a cat. :3

#my knight in shining armor #i'd be home with you #even educated fleas do it #gush #sugar and whiskey

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edwardbonnets · 10 months

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how to ask the demon you've been smitten over for 6000 years to dance: an angel's guide

bonus:

#goodomensedits #goodomensgifs #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #userkristi #userlauren #userstede #userisaiah #userelio #userhani #my gifs #edit: the old caption has been fixed!!! changed it to 'we' like god (neil gaiman) intended #EDIT EDIT: NEIL GAIMAN HIMSELF REBLOGGED THIS POST AND CONFIRMED ITS NOT 'WE' BUT 'YOU DONT DANCE' LIKE I HAD ORIGINALLY OKAY #im returning to my roots #(aka making gifs but adding my chaotic commentary and editing to it)#i wish i was at home i'd be able to use a better quality video but im also ~impatient~#hopefully no one beat me to the punch #because this scene is genuinely one of my favorites like look at azi look at his smile im gonna fucking cry :')))))#like michael sheen!!!!!!!! michael sheen i am banging at your door like a wild chimpanzee #the ACTING CHOICES #the way you can literally SEE his thought process and excitement over asking crowley to dance i am in shambles i really am

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dreemurr-skelememer · 6 months

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white noise

james marriott is now public enemy #1 for writing this song

#'With you - with them - I'd go through it all again - I'd quite like to go home now' HUHHHHHHHHHHH. WHAT #JAMES YOU ARE SICK IN THE HEAD #dreamtale #dream sans #undertale #sans #nightmare sans #utmv #undertale au #kia doodles shit

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sukunasteeth · 2 months

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Taking Care of a Tired Sukuna

Sukuna has had a long day.

Well, night.

Morning.

Fuck.

Working construction had been twisting up his sleeping schedule. At this point, Sukuna was starting to feel it in his body; in the strain in his muscle, and the aches and pains that randomly gripped him.

They had him working on a new project that could only be done at night, while the public was off the main roads, and that meant his new work hours were starting from sometime in the middle of the evening and ending in the morning or the mid-afternoon. Being nocturnal wouldn't be so bad if his commute home wasn't during rush hour. The traffic was always worse when he just wanted to crawl onto his couch and fall asleep there. And when he does come home at the end of the day - he's aching, exhausted, and every bone in his body is vibrating with the noise from a jackhammer or the hum of a forklift.

Sukuna has always liked something that keeps him busy, interested, something that tests his strengths. So, he can't say that he hates the job, but he does wish that it wouldn't occupy so much of his time. He's wont to forget things when he's so wrapped up in a new task.

Like today, for example, when he finally swings his truck around the front of his apartment building, barely making it off the freeway without murdering someone, and he spots your car parked there in his spot.

He starts a bit, his sleep deprived brain suddenly spinning as memory serves him.

That's right. You were supposed to come over today after he got off of work and spend the night- and he didn't plan a damn thing. There's no flowers in the backseat, he didn't stop to grab lunch for the two of you, he doesn't even have anything in his fridge for dinner tonight, besides a few forgotten beers tucked away in the side door.

As Sukuna searches for a parking spot much further down the street, he knows he should be disappointed with himself, but he can't help the touch of excitement that's suddenly dissolving the exhaustion from his muscles. Sometimes, Sukuna resents the fact that you manage to reduce him to this. He hates that he can't control that his heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing you again, like he's in some sappy romance novel.

But it was the hold you had on him, and he was starting to accept it.

You got to Sukuna's apartment about two hours before he was scheduled to be home. It was a day off for you, and you woke up with butterflies fluttering around in your chest.

You were giddy to see him. You always were. And not a single butterfly has died in your heart-space for him since the moment you met Sukuna, around two years ago. He has tended to each of them since then with his gentle but stubborn touch, although, he would never admit it.

You adored him for that.

It's still early in the morning when you use the key he had made for you to unlock his front door. Immediately upon stepping in, you're hit with how dark his studio is. The sun had risen over the horizon hours ago, and yet, the only hint of its light came from a small gap in Sukuna's blackout curtains. When you pull them back, you turn around and wince at the room behind you.

Yep, he's working too hard.

There's construction tools all over the house; sitting on the counter, in the sink, on his bed-stand, there's even a huge oil covered machine beside the front door that you nearly trip on in your trek over to the curtain. His coveralls and work clothes are strewn across the living room like he's been too exhausted to even make it to his bed at the end of his days, which is not very far from the couch. Meanwhile, his bedroom and the kitchen look nearly immaculate, telling you he hasn't cooked in days and confirming your suspicions about his sleeping arrangements. You wander over to his fridge and pop it open, sighing hopelessly when you're greeted with nothing inside.

Good thing he has you.

By the time he makes it home, it's around one in the afternoon. You've got his laundry hanging on the clothesline outside, more in the washing machine, and all of his tools and odds and ends have been sorted and dusted clean. You've opened every window he has, and cool, fresh air sweeps away the oppressed darkness his apartment held before. Everything was back in equilibrium.

When his keys jingle outside the door, you're just finishing up the last of folding his laundry. Sukuna steps inside, and your heart aches at how drained he looks despite the way his eyes widen as he peers around the room in surprise. His clothes are covered in dust from the construction site, and there's a smear of dirt on his cheek that makes him look like a chimney sweep. There's a tool in his hand that looks rather heavy, straining the muscles in his arm, but he seems to have momentarily forgotten to put it down. Half moon circles are embedded under his eyes, but they only bring out the intensity of his gaze.

"Hi 'Kuna?" You chime, calling his attention to rest on you.

He blinks, taking a moment to process the situation. You don't recognize the glimmer in his eyes then, and part of you starts to sweat at the thought of him taking this all wrong. Sukuna had never been particularly picky with you, but vice versa, you had never done something like this for him before. He never gave you the opportunity, after all. Out of the two of you, Sukuna was usually the one who was always effortlessly put together.

"You... cleaned..." He notes.

You swallow, "I did but I didn't move things around though. Just tried to put things back. Your laundry is right outside and I got you some groceries-" Sukuna drops the tool in his hand without warning, and you start talking faster, your voice raising a pitch as he starts towards you. "Okay, thinking back, I guess I should have asked. Maybe texted- no, you hate texting. Maybe called-"

“Did you clean the paint specks off of my air compressor?” He was standing in front of the machine beside the front door, which you painstakingly made sure not to ruin in your cleansing, despite having no idea what it was.

When he looks at you for an answer, continuing to close the distance between the two of you. You swallow the rock in your throat. “Too much?”

He’s made his way across the room and his surprised expression finally settles into a familiar hungry grin. He grabs you by the hem of your jeans, yanking you roughly towards him. You catch yourself on his chest, making a small noise of surprise. When you look up to scold him, Sukuna is an inch away from your face, his lips almost brushing yours, save for half a centimeter of space between them. He smells like sawdust and menthol, you can taste it in the close proximity as he greedily takes your breath away.

“Off. Now.” He growls, but his fingers are already undoing the button clasped in the front of your pants. “I’m about to fuckin’ eat you, sweet thing.”

You end up skipping lunch, but you're well satisfied a few hours later. A certain hunger: satiated. Sukuna is resting peacefully beside you. You can hear his even breathing against the sound of the cicadas outside, screaming in through the windows. Seeing him so content, sets your heart at ease and you release a sigh of relief.

Now, to end the night, it was time to slip out of bed without him noticing to finish folding his laundry.

Or so you thought.

As you carefully peel back the blankets and try to sneak off the side of the mattress, a warm pair of fingers loop themselves around your panty line, effectively preventing you from going anywhere. Guiltily, you peek over your shoulder to see Sukuna glaring at you with half of his face still smushed into his pillow, genuinely disgruntled with the fact that you were trying to leave his bed. You can't help but chuckle.

"I'm just gonna go grab your laundry." You reassure him, brushing a tousled tuft of his hair out of his eyes. The knot between his brows deepens.

"Let me do that later. C'mere. " He tugs on your panty line, confident that you'll be submissive for him.

The sun outside was casting tall shadows on the walls of his bedroom and the glow was now deep and rich, telling you that it was preparing to set. You didn't want Sukuna's laundry on the balcony all night, which is what you were sure would happen if you didn't go and grab it now.

You hear a thread rip in your panty line interrupting your contemplation and, quickly, you grab his wrist, squeezing it as a signal for him to let go.

He continues to hold fast, his brow cocking in a silent dare.

"'Kuna, come on." You try, "Lemme take care of you-"

"You've been doing nothing but take care of me all day." He scoffs, like the idea of it is absurd to him. Rarely does Sukuna allow you the opportunity to show him as much care and adoration as you have today. Being doted on was not typically something he enjoyed. You knew that, and that's how you also knew that he was exhausted to his bones that day. "Get your ass back here."

There's a tug again, and another thread snaps somewhere. You pout at him, already having the foresight that this pair of panties wasn't going to last you long either. Your partner had the tendency to rip them off of you, and this wouldn't be the first pair to become a shred of what they once were. To be fair, he was also known for giving you his credit card and telling you to go buy "some things for him to see you in", so it would be at no cost to you. But, you happened to like this pair.

Sukuna watches you consider your options silently, unrelenting in his hold on your lace. When you peek up at his gaze, testing one more time, you know you've already lost.

"Don't make me chase after you." He warns, the promise of your inevitable surrender is evident in the predatory glint of his eyes. If Sukuna had a tail at that moment, it would be swaying back and forth, preparing for a pounce. "It's been a while since the last time I had you tied up. I do miss those sweet little bruises we left on your wrists."

You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention upon his recollection. The last time Sukuna had you in ropes, you had to call off of work the next day. Your backside stings with the memory, but half of you can't help but ache for it too. Tied up in Sukuna's bed while he was forced to care for the boneless pile that was his girlfriend, drunk off of his lovemaking? That wasn't the worst place to be.

But, on the other hand, you could tell how exhausted he was with the new construction project at his job. You have a flashback of showering with him at the end of the night and scrubbing sawdust out of his hair. Having to gently prod and kiss him awake as he fell asleep standing up in front of you. You were adamant that you weren't going to do anything to tire him further tonight.

Before you can properly give in, Sukuna must have decided that you were taking much too long to obey him.

His other hand reaches over and winds around your lower waist, pulling you backwards into the soft cushion of the pillows and easily flipping the two of you so that he’s mounted above you. In your surprised stupor, he collects both of your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head.

"You've forgotten how to follow directions again, kitten." His murmur is like velvet against your ear. His teeth graze over his favorite spot on the nape of your neck, where he’s already tortured it with his teeth and hickies. You didn’t realize how raw the skin was until he bites you there, drawing a whimper from your throat.

"Let's remind you."

#jjk #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #just love the idea of Sukuna coming home filthy #I'd eat it up personally #also good god i want to see this man in a pair of coveralls #my writing

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

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Today's The Day!!!

#now if you all will excuse me i need to go eat some grass. touching it is no longer enough #ough wait why does he look like that candy thing. you know the thing. with the shiny candy shell #the fuckin... its a fruit thing... uh #TANGHULU! THATS THE BITCH!#fitting i'd think! hes a tasty little morsel! a sweet guy!#scribble garnish #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanart #wally darling #i dearly hope he's enjoying all of the Attention #he deserves it! he deserves it all!

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solarisfortuneia · 3 months

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— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together.

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this.

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow.

“please, please,” he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.”

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,” he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—” his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain.

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray.

please, please tell me it’ll be okay.

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time.

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.

“— just wake up, beloved.”

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere.

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—”

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.”

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you.

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities.

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things.

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person.

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away.

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.”

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long.

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play.

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones.

a wish that you’d come back, somehow.

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did. but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you.

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.” kaveh calls his name softly.

alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,” he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.”

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

#—🖋#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x you #genshin x you #emotional blabbering ahead in the tags beware #this is hitting me in a place i didn't know existed hjsjs #like. i haven't lost anyone but i have lost my life as i know it?#this past year was full of so many endings and i've been struggling in some way everyday #like i didn't know that the last time i saw my friends would truly be the last time we ever saw each other #i didn't know that i'd be bidding goodbye to my parents as i left home through an airport #ANYWAY ENOUGH DUMPING. ig i'm just telling you to hug the people you love tighter and cherish every moment you spend with them #time goes by really quickly and you don't know where it'll go #ily guys #ew barf feelings </3 /j

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