#even when its not for that reason i am still an anxious MESS all the time

[lum13]

Pretty

The night of the havoc, it was all a mess. You begged to differ.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

“Hey, you.” You smiled wearily, making your way towards the raven haired girl who was seated on the ground, her head against a tree. The police had come a few minutes after the incident, and now everything in the campus is being checked for safety reasons, leaving the students of nevermore with no dorms to rest in for the next few hours.

“Hi.” She replied, giving you a glance as you sat down next to her. You played with the edge of your sleeves— something that you did when you were anxious, Wednesday knew. 

“Crackstone is gone.” She said firmly. “There’s no need to be scared now.” 

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head as you did so. “I know.” You said, “It’s just— everything is so crazy, you know?”

The girl hummed in reply. You sighed, leaning your head onto her shoulder. Her back straightened up, yet she didn’t pull away.

“Still can't believe Miss Thornhill turned on us like that, though. I really liked her.” You frowned, bringing your legs to your chest as you wrapped your arms around it. You felt her gaze onto you, which made you lift your head from her shoulders to meet her eyes.

“Never trust anyone.” The girl stated, “It’s the number one rule in all the murder mystery novels.”

“You didn’t trust anyone while investigating? Even me?” You grinned teasingly, “I’m hurt, Wednesday Addams.” You clutched your chest dramatically, letting out a giggle as she rolled her eyes at your childish act.

“Don't be foolish.” She said, “there were no reasons to  believe that you were the one behind all of this. You’re too soft, naive-“ 

“Hey!” You defended, pouting. “I could kill someone if I wanted to!” 

“I doubt it.” She said, making you roll your eyes playfully.

And without a thought, your eyes scanned over her face— which was covered in dirt and is clearly needing some washes— 

“I love you.” Came your response, surprising both of you. It wasn’t the first time you said those words— but the comment was something that slipped from your mouth without thinking, which was unexpected from the both sides.

But it wasn’t like it wasn’t true— so you decided to go with it. 

“You’re so pretty.”

She looked away. You brought your hand on her cheeks, leading her gaze back to you. 

“I am a mess.” She said, referring to the dried blood on her forehead, her caked bangs, and the little twigs sticking out of her tousled braids. 

“The prettiest mess.” You grinned, reaching down to find her hand in yours, before bringing it up to your mouth.

Her palm brushing on your lips, you gave her little kisses— sending shivers down her spine. Your tender lips on her palm felt like a butterfly fluttering its wings against her skin. She hated the feelings of it— and the feelings she felt because of it.

Yet she couldn’t pull away. Only God knows what kind of things you did to her.

-

A quick Drabble before going to sleep. I love Wednesday and her soft heart <3

This was also inspired by a prompt that I’ve found on Pinterest

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday Addams x you #wednesday addams #jenna Ortega x reader

[jackharloww]

"through thick and thin” 

TW: depressive thoughts, anxiety. 

The first weeks after giving birth to Gracie were hard; having a newborn baby was not easy. The sadness and emptiness I felt every day only complicated everything. The first days I was so excited about it all, but then came the nervousness of being a mom, and with that followed the anxiety. I thought it was baby blues and would go away after a week, but with Grace’s colic and all the hormone changes my body underwent, the feelings stayed longer than I would’ve wanted. 

Grace cries a lot, and it’s been going on for two weeks. once she starts crying, it takes hours before she stops. Jack and I talked to the doctor, who informed us that it was colic and common during the first six weeks. It would go away on its own eventually, but we couldn’t do anything to make her stop crying other than comfort her. Constant crying and not knowing what to do took a toll on Jack and me. 

I feel sad, and I’m always overwhelmed these days. Guilt is consuming me for feeling this way.  I have every reason to be happy. I have a beautiful little baby girl, and my husband, who loves us unconditionally, is amazing; I have the family I’ve always wanted, so why am I feeling this way? What is wrong with me? I can’t control my emotions even though I try my hardest. These past few weeks, I’ve woken up feeling anxious and irritated, and not only does it affect me but also Jack. He has to deal with Grace crying as well as my daily mood swings and frustration.

Jack tries to help as much as possible. He took some time off work after Grace’s birth and stayed home to be there for us. Even Jack has noticed that I’m not feeling like myself, but he doesn’t pressure me to talk about it. He asks me daily if I’m okay, and when I nod and tell him that I am, he smiles at me, not really believing me. He has noticed the change in me, but he always proceeds to tell me that he’s here for me and tells me to relax more. But how do I tell him that even getting up from bed is starting to feel like a task these days? How do I tell him that the only reason I keep going is for our little girl?  Every time I get out of bed, it feels like I have a heavy weighted blanket on top of me, and the feeling is not going away. 

Today though, Jack had to go to the studio to work on some things; the studio was only 10 minutes away by car, so he assured me he would come home immediately if I needed him to. 

Right now I’m in Grace’s nursery with her in my arms. She’s looking for my breast, indicating that she is hungry, so I sit down in the chair we have in the nursery and lift my shirt to feed her. She latches on to my breast and starts to eat. I rubbed her pretty, chubby cheeks and sat comfortably on the chair. After burping her, she was lying in my arms, looking at me, making small sounds. I’m watching her in my arms, and I’m filled with so much love for her. I love this little creature and I’m going to guard her with my life. Only a few minutes after having a moment with her, my mind got once again filled with intrusive thoughts. Am I taking care of her well enough? Is she eating well? Is she getting a good amount of sleep? Does she feel loved? All the different questions are rushing through my head, and I can’t seem to stop them. She finally falls asleep and I put her in her crib, before going out to the kitchen to do some cleaning.  

Jack messaged me throughout the day asking how everything is going, and now after a few hours of being away, he is calling me on FaceTime. 

”Hey baby, how is it going?” He smiled big at the phone when I answered

”Hi, fine” I gave him a small smile, my hair was a mess, and I was wearing one of his shirts, which was now stained with milk leaking from my nipples. The dark circles under my eyes could be spotted from miles away, but he still managed to look at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. 

”Where’s my Gracie baby?” He asked 

”She just went for a nap” I sighed and rubbed my eyes. 

”You should take a nap too. I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight,” He told me, making me stare into the phone, not knowing what to answer him. It has been five weeks since I gave birth, and we’ve mostly stayed at home. I was overwhelmed and did not feel like dressing up and going out, but I didn’t know if Jack would understand. 

”Hey, what do you say? You got real quiet on me there” He chuckled through the phone. 

”Uhm, I don’t really feel like going out.” I mumbled. 

”Okay babe, I can grab some takeaway and we can have a movie night” Jack answered as he started playing with his beard. 

”Sounds good. How is it going at the studio?” I ask him 

”It feels good to be back, you should hear the beat we are working on, it’s amazing,” Jack said with a big smile, happy to be back. Just as I was about to answer him, Grace’s cries could be heard from the nursery. 

”Jack I’ll call you back soon, She just woke up. Love you” I let out a big sigh as we hang up and go to Grace’s nursery to pick her up.  

”Shh baby, mommy is here” I held Grace in my arms, rocking her gently. Her small cries only got more and louder, and I’m trying everything to get her to stop crying or at least calm down a little, but nothing is working. Why can’t I comfort her? What is wrong with me? With every sob she lets out, the lump in my throat grows as the overwhelming feelings engulf me. The feeling of sadness is again there, and my eyes get filled with tears that I cannot stop from falling. The weight in my chest gets heavier with every sob that I let out. After trying to get her to stop crying for about 20 minutes, I grab my phone and call Jack, he answers after the second ring. 

“Please come home, I need you” I sobbed into the phone as soon as he picked up. Without any hesitation, Jack got up from the studio. Almost 15 minutes after I called, Jack came home and walked straight to the nursery where Grace’s cries could be heard. 

”Jack, What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I make her stop?” I sob as soon as I lock eyes with him. I try to take deep breaths to calm down, but I only seem to be crying more and breathing faster. Jack comes closer to us and puts one of his arms around me, kissing my head. 

”Hey hey hey, come on. It’s going to be okay, we got this” He said and pressed another kiss to my head before trying to wipe away my tears with his thumbs.  

”Go sit down for a while ma’, I’ll handle it” He grabs Grace from my arms and I feel exhausted. What kind of mother am I that I can’t even comfort my child, and get her to stop crying.

”Hey my Gracie baby, daddy missed you so much, yes he did,” He cooed and kissed her tiny hands, pulling her closer to his chest, whilst she continued to cry out. 

”Everything is going to be alright darling, shhh” He started rocking her. 

”Hush little baby don’t say a word, daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird” I heard Jack sing as I walked out of the room to go into the shower, needing to calm myself.

Jack stood in the same spot, watching me go. Jack and I have always been good at communicating and talking with each other when something is wrong. The problem is, I don’t know what’s wrong, so if I don’t, how would he? 

Hastily, I took my clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm water release some of the tension in my back. I slid down the shower wall, using it as support as I sat on the floor, letting my thoughts consume me as tears streamed down my face. At some point, I couldn’t hear any cries, which made me somehow relieved, yet the pain in my chest didn’t fade. My eyes caught a glimpse of Jack’s feet making their way towards me, not even hearing the bathroom door open. 

”Oh baby,” Jack came in, immediately shut the water, and helped me stand up. I couldn’t say anything; I could only cry. He grabbed a towel and helped me get into it. 

”I can’t do it anymore,” I sobbed in his arms as he held me closer to him. 

”I’m overwhelmed, Jack,” I let out another big sob. ”I can’t do this,” this time, I didn’t have the energy to hold back from him. At this moment I’m mostly grasping for air and sobbing into his chest. 

Jack pulled me off him for a second and held my face in his hand, making me look at him

”I’m here, look at me. I’m here for you, you’re not alone” he said and wiped my tears, and brought me closer to him once more. 

”What kind of mother can’t get her child to stop crying?” I asked him, the tears not once stopping from falling. 

”Hey don’t say that. This is not your fault” 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want it to get easier,” I cried to Jack, holding onto his shirt. He didn’t say anything. He only rubbed my back and kissed my head, calming me down. 

”Come on, let’s get you dressed,” He said after a few minutes. We walked out to our bedroom, and I sat on our bed. He brought out one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. He helped me get dressed, seeing I didn’t even have the energy to do that. 

”Come here” He grabbed my hand and walked me out to the living room, we sat down on the couch, and he gently rubbed my hand. 

”I’m here for you. You have a husband who loves you and a beautiful daughter who loves you more than life itself. And we want you to be happy.” He finally said, ”I don’t understand what it is that you’re feeling, but I’m here for you. Let us try to understand together” He still tried to wipe the tears from my cheeks and kissed me gently. 

”I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

”What are you sorry about? Stop it. it’s okay not to feel okay” 

”I’m sorry you had to come home from the studio, and that I put all this weight on you,” I said feeling remorseful. 

”Stop that, I don’t give a fuck about that right now. You’re my wife and you need me to be here for you, and right here is where I want to be. We got this together. I’m with you through thick and thin.” 

—————

It took some time for me to write this, I wrote and deleted a lot. And my bestie also helped me!! So I hope you like it🥺❤️

#jack fic #jack harlow #jackharlow #jack x reader #jack harlow imagine #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow story #harlow #jack harlow stories #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #postpartum #jack harlow concepts

[sneakyboythingz]

My TADC ships tierlist

( this may or not may change when the pilot airs)

1°- Pomni x Jax

9/10, i don't even think they will acctually have much canon material to ship them lolll i just like the concept of a asshole troublemaker rabbit and an anxious clown whos just want to get out of there so good to ship for some reason. I still hope they have some amazing interactions tho... and maybe their platonic relantioship will be quite nice to watch?

(i am always the guy whose favorite ships are the most non-sense ones, its on my dna at this point)

2°- Pomni x Caine

9/10, This ship is genuinely so interesting because the concept of an AI falling for a human is always so good, i feel like even without any canonical romantic stuff, their platonic relantioship will be the most fun heartwarming to watch :')

3°- Jax x Ragatha

8/10, their ship fanarts are genuinely so cute and they feel like such a wholesome couple somehow??? Ragatha being the calm one who doesn't really care about what Jax says or do to her and Jax trying to provoque her but always having to try to keep himself togheter because he gets easily flushered by her is just 👌👌👌 classic older matured lady and her annoying younger boy

4°- Zooble x Jax

8/10, Both are the youngests, Zooble being the only one who can beat the shit out of Jax. Zooble's easily irritable personality and Jax's annoying rabbit ass... Do i even need to say more?????

5°- Pomni x Ragatha

7.5/10, the clown lady who just got there and the the Doll woman who has been there for longer so she can help the clown girl deal with the horrors togheter because the Doll woman alredy has seen all of It first? Sounds pretty romantic to me. Also i love How the lesbians have alredy claimed them

6°- Kinger x Gangle

7/10, Dont really have much to say about them, but looks like they are going to be a inseparable duo. Awkward old man and emotional mess girl? Thats really cute

7°- Kinger x Jax

Young boy and old Man yaoi, hot

#the amazing digital circus #tadc

[smilingangel582]

Yooo I'm still at a loss for the links and I'm sorry guys...I'm such a clutz, hehe~

☆anyway never mind that let's go down a other roller coaster of tickles with genshin impact. I wanted to right for Kaveh but loss inspiration at the moment... so guys pls bear with me I'll be writing for sweet kaveh soon!

Warning spoilers for fontaine version 4.0!

Ps. Are my fics so bad that Lyney still refuses to come to me!!! I want him, so I'll keep on writing till he comes to me! Heck, his C3 sister is waiting too nyaaaahaaa~

Magic is a performance of art with picturesque illusions. Lyney often became overwhelmed by Caeser's joy in magic as he taught him several aspects of it. Indeed, he began to love it as well... especially playing tricks on others' minds as he played on.

It'd often the smaller ones thst excited kids more. Picking mora from their ears, picking flowers out from under his cloak, he could fo ample things just to get the audience happy.

It's usually days when the big magic tricks would begin, most unexpectedly he feels nervous though he had a knack for avoiding troublesome thoughts. Only Lynette read him like a book...

"Lyney!"

The sharp tone made him look up instantly, startled by his loss of awareness as he was sipping tea at his place with the traveller. Freminet was missing as always, being engrossed in diving - perhaps he ought to learn how to relax from him as well.

Ever since the trial, he became anxious about doing grand performances. He did perfect it at practice, but...he was worried if someone would sabotage his show again and create another victim...

Seeing Aether tilt his head in question to ask how he's feeling, Lyney chuckled sheepishly. "Oh dear, sorry to zone out like this... I may have been preoccupied by the fact that Paimon's not tired of floating around"

"Hey, Paimon's floating his similar to you guys walking, you know!"

Seeing her indignant reaction, he thought he had drawn their attention away from him. Still, Lynette didn't even make an attempt to sound accusing as she calmly said, "You're rigid, brother... perhaps you're nervous after all"

"W-what..? Surely you jest... I'm just more concerned about Paimon's logic to floating, " his face darkened as he lowered his head to the side to avoid any misgivings though the opposite just convoluted.

"Hey, you better not mess with Paimon!" Paimon, being Paimon, ignorantly grumbled in her chirpy voice, sounding offended presumably. Still, Aether could sense his offensive tactic being seen through. He might find it more intriguing to see past the crumbling defence he built desperately...

He shook his head now. "Lyney, we're close enough to see through your act..."

"Ah, drats..." he smiled weakly, seeing how his sister and the traveller were onto him. Keeping his tea cup to its original place on the table, he began to reason.

Now his solid defence has a crack...

"Alright, alright, guys... I am human, so I'll admit I am nervous after the water tank incident, " he offered. Now Lynette stated slight concern in her cool tone,"It's not the same trick... so why are you that worried?"

Sighing, he bit his lip, as if he got scolded by a teacher, "Making mistakes, I guess?"

Aether noticed his stiffness. He could tell the young magician must have been traumatised by the death of Cowell. Either way, they came here to cheer him on. He wondered if he could do anything for him... something to perk him up.

"Lyney" Aether began now gesturing to Paimon. "Allow Paimon to massage your shoulders... to make you relax... she's good at that"

Paimon gasped at Aether audacity to make a request unbeknowst to her, "You little! Of course, you put this on Paimon...!"

Regardless, her starry gaze genuinely desired to help, so she began "Alright Lyney let Paimon loosen you up"

Lyney anxiously waved a hand. "Oh n-no need... It's not really necessary... I really don't have stiff shoulders..."

(Cute...)

Aether rolling his eyes said, "Come on Lyney, no more secrets its obvious they are stiff..."

Before Lyney could evade the offer, Paimon was already behind him. "Relaaax, Paimon is an expert masseur. She can make you lose your fears in a snap!" She removed the pegged Cape so easily, and began to descend.

Until he staggered away, immediately stiffened by her gentle fingers reaching for his shoulders.

"D-dont Paimon... its not necessary"

She couldn't even touch him when he slid off from the couch only to stand and face her, Paimon pouted "Awww but can't you trust Paimon?"

"I...uh... It's not t-trust..."

Lynette, seeing the obvious issue and she finally pointed out, "It's not you, Paimon. He's got ticklish shoulders..."

"Lynette!!"

The casual reply made him blush but only to let Paimon's curious eyes widen in wonder. She waves her arms in frantic excitement "Nooo way Lyney! You didn't tell us your ticklish!"

Extremely nervous, he lowered his hat to hide the blush "A-Arent we all Paimon...?"

Most of Paimon's giggled converted to menacing titters as she wiggled her fingers. "So come here and let Paimon make you relax in a better way"

He had not expected this situation to collapse on him like this. He backed a little too far to bump into a seated Aether's knees and fell, half on his lap.

"Oh dear my apologihihihiies -Wahahait!" He struggled to sit up and grab Aether's sneaking fingers prodding his sides.

His squeaks contagiously threatened to leave his lips as Aether was mischievous as well.

"Are the fatuus this weak to tickling? I must say that's a bit disadvantageous"

Paimon, floating towards Lyney's upper body, began to perform her special tickly massage on his shoulders "Waiit for Paimon Aether, she wants to tickle him too!"

"Ahahha guys plehehehease" he curled now bur Aether grabbed his hips and snickered at the stream of loud and sweet giggles, "as I was saying... we could make you spill any little secret from the house of the hearth right?"

"Ihihihin your dreheheeheams I'm nohohot thahahahat weheheheheak"

"Ahhh, tsk, tsk it's not about being weak... It's about how ticklish you are, " he taunted by kneading his ribs with pure intent to torture information out of him.

Poor Lyney, on the other hand, tried to roll to the ground, but Aether got up and pinned him further to the couch, now both of the ganging on him where he's cornered.

"Lynehehehehtte!" The twin sister peacefully finishes her tea before saying,"It's ironic how his worst spots are the most exposed areas. His armpits and thighs are pretty bad, you know"

Hearing this intel Paimon snickered "ehehehehe let Paimon excell her Paimonial wrath! Your armpits are Paimons now!!!" She charged in yo perfectly fit her small hands into his delicate armpits, she even blowed at his neck to make him squeal and hiccup into louder giggles and laughs.

"This was just to make you relax, so..." Aether teasingly swiped a finger over his thighs suddenly, making him shrill in shock and squeak, "Pleheheheease!"

"So no... at least not today, " he said this, and Paimon reluctantly backed off."That was for making fun of Paimon!"

Chuckling at her ridiculous high pitched complain Aether now cupped his cheeks to get a better look at his adorably blushing red face. "Teyvat to Lyney... you there~"

He still giggled as he said "Aaha yes, I must thank you, but... that was a bit much, wasn't it"

Meanwhile, Lynette coolly expressed, "Ignore him. He loves being tickled so you guys can knock yourselves out"

Lyney flustered now "Y-You can't just...!"

"Oh really?" Aether grabbed his shoulders now making him stiffen again "I thought I found a knot right here? Guess Paimon's masseur skills are still lacking"

"Hey!" One from Paimon.

"HEHehehey!" Another from a bewildered Lyney who giggled at the light touch now trying to move away.

"Ahahaha nohohot again! Nohohot thehehhe shoulders ahahahaha aehehehehther!"

"Let the magic begin!" Lynette smirked, joining the finale of wrecking her brother. None of them have the intention of letting Lyney go until he's cheered and satisfied.

Well... not that Lyney wanted it to stop... he liked this feeling...

#tickle fic #genshin impact #cute #lee!lyney #ler!lynette #ler!aether #ler!paimon

[boxwinebaddie]

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 & 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂,

greetings from wherever you are and whatever timezone you are in, and with any luck, in that nook you are tucked, it is still the best day of the year aka...Rile Pile's Birthday ( aka pastorcraigenjoyer on ao3 ), who some of you may call the style one-shot whump wizard now ft. lizard, but i am blessed to call, my lovely computer wife and life. <33

my angel, my darling, my dear, sweet girl: happy birthday, beloved.

( beneath the readmore is a birthday surprise. xx for my favorite redhead writer girl, but also for all of you. fair warning, you do have to read a lot to get there, but i promise that it will be worth the while. )

@actually-its-riley @1moreoffkeyanthem @marryme

i know that you do not like to make a big deal about your birthday, but unfortunately, i am a chaotic bisexual disaster, of whom pep!stan's insane stananigans and big sweeping gestures are #Based, so unfortunately, you have to endure my psychosis, RP.

which you often do, you wild and patient and wonderful thing you. <3 i sent you a DM on new years that was way better articulated than this, but when writing peppermint, i made a lot of friends who were readers and that was extremely gratifying, but i felt very isolated from the style writing community on ao3...until you came along. c':

i was also extremely anxious and over encumbered/ill-equipped to handle the stress that came along with the success of my fanfic, but your support throughout my writing journey made that load lighter.

it has been a joy and an honor being your friend and for once, being able to read rather than write -- all 70+ fanfics you have uploaded. which, given that i have written two unfinished ones, the fact that riley has written that many and finished them is astounding. :***

-- they are also brilliant, btw. we seriously don't deserve her. </3

but here's to trying!

and drying those tears for fears of dying, because when you write, you live forever, clever girl. but before i ramble on too long, my salt of the earth ( dissolved in oj ), here, dear, is my birthday gift to you. <3

so...listen. at first i was going to post a whumpshot for you but...the only person i ended up hurting was myself because i couldn't finish. granted, i never finish anything, as we know, but i had a backup plan.

which is this:

i am thankful for all the support i've gotten writing my fanfictions, but riley has been particularly supportive of me, both emotionally, and also regularly wrecks havoc on her poor followers by reblogging my insane niche au ask meme content onto her blog and likes all my stuff, no matter how weird or deranged it is.

i apologize because that's going to happen again, but this time it will hopefully be slightly more relevant because rp is fond of peppermint, and i am very fond of her so i decided...that for riley's birthday, i will be releasing everything i have in my drafts pertaining to…

pep 12. <3

whiiiiiiich is not much, please don't get your hopes up, but i think it is well deserved by you all and on what better occasion than today?

anyways, your cursed limited edition peppermint package includes:

-literally like the first five minutes of the chapter ( i'm not even joking that's how little i've written -- which is still too much -- and how slow )

-this weird thing that i posted on twitter once where stan is thinking about the friendship bracelets and being emo as fuck oh my god, i made a lot of weird metaphors...it's garbage, but...have at it.

-and finally, a very weird fucking flashback from hell that...is the main reason why my update got stalled because i couldn't figure out how to write it and when i started writing it, i got so comfortable in kyle's narration, i fucking *jersey vc* forgot it was stan season and started writing it in kyle's consciousness, then...tried to switch it back to stans...it's a mess. it's also not done like...at all, so you get a little bit of actual writing and actions and thoughts and a lot of...just dialogue. i wasn't sure about giving you guys the whole thing but i'm not sure if its gonna make it into pep, so i wanted to give you guys a chance to read it before i throw it into the fire where it belongs, smh...jail.

again, rp, i know today is a hard day, but i hope this makes it easier. thank you for being born, happy birthday...and i hope you heal, lovie.

but now...dear readers...without further ado, it is time,

to enjoy the very worst part...

...of the very best day. ;)

-uncle neen the queen with the scheme <3

p.s. the computer quality is ass, it looks better on the app, smh.

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮; 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷

a/n: EVERYONE SAY YOU'RE WELCOME UNCLE NINA FOR NOT KILLING STAN!!! HSDLKD STAN LIVES!!!! BARELY! SMH!!! i'm so sorry you waited so long for...sigh...that...anyways here's this too:

𝔀𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

A/N: wow...so edgy, nina. i wrote that instead of sleeping one night and i did not take my mood stabilizer so that's why it sounds insane. okay, here is this last thing which is...actually so embarrassing, but i love you all and riley specifically, so merry riley's birthday everyone.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷

A/N: my kylepilequil!!!! HELLO!!!! HOPE YOU HEAL NATION!!! WHO IS UP BITCH!!!! that was choatic, i am not proud of a lot of that dialogue, particularly kyle being insane ( it was not gonna stay like that i promise...it was a road map...leading where? i have no clue ) but i hope that it thrilled you! please smile, pendejos lmaoooo, rip!

#ITS RILEYS BIRTHDAY #HIP HIP HORAY FOR GAY PPL #its a big day for annoying people aka riley fans aka me #i'm sorry this was insane queen u know how i am #i am physically incapable of not being dramatic as hell #BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERES PEPPERMINT!!!! I LOVE U #IM SORRY THIS IS CRINGE BUT I HOPE U HEAL BABES #im physically cringing at how much i need to rhyme things #like ok go off riddler what the fuck #my hands are over my eyes ur welc or im sorry rp & everyone else #the spelling and wording of all of this is hell #but im too lazy to try and make it better #it is what it is…a draft and flaming hot garbage

[noxexistant]

22, RAREMASH‼‼

( sorry if it seems like im repeating the whole raremash thingy, im not even sure that you actually like the ship )

- mystery anon

mystery anon, i would die for raremash. i also pinky promise i am trying SO HARD to get that fight club fic written for you, and it will be. at some point. i am so sorry for the wait. but here’s some them for now, to hopefully help tide you over <3

22. “you didn’t do anything wrong.” for finch, morris, albert, and tommy boy

Finch knows something’s wrong the moment he enters Jacobi’s and hears quiet, anxious murmuring rather than the loud conversation and laughter he’d been expecting.

It’s a Wednesday night, late - but it’s summer, so the sun ain’t all the way down just yet - and long enough after sales that there ain’t many other newsies about, especially not on a weekday. Not that weekends mean anything to them, they don’t get days off, but everyone’s still livelier on a Friday or Saturday just for the principal of it. Them’s the days everyone older’s most likely to gather at Jacobi’s at this sort of hour, and that’s the same reason it’s weekdays that Finch and the others meet Morris.

He don’t get days off either, don’t even get time for lunch between the end of morning sales and the start of evening sales like they do if they sell well enough, so the time they do manage to get with him has to be more valued. They’ll meet when Jacobi’s is dead like tonight and stay for as long as they can all stay awake or as long as Mr. Jacobi’ll stay open for them, Albert talking endlessly and Tommy all but glued to Morris’ side and Finch soaking it all up as much as he can.

But Albert isn’t talking right now.

He’s stood near the middle of the restaurant floor, next to an unoccupied but untidy table, wrestling with a broom as he tries clumsily to sweep up a mess of glass scattered at his feet. It looks to be the corpse of a drinking glass, maybe, thoroughly shattered, with its former contents wetting the mess and making it near impossible to sweep.

On the other side of the restaurant, sort of huddled at a table near the corner, Tommy’s leaning over Morris. He’s the one talking for once, so low that Finch can’t really make out a word of it until he gets closer, but, when he does, just from that he can easily piece together what must’ve happened.

“It’s okay,” Tommy’s saying, real soft. “‘S’fine, ‘s’no buh—bi-big deal, I s-ss-wear. Ain’t nobody mad at you, you didn’t do nuh—nothin’ wrong.”

Morris is shaking. Tommy’s holding the side of his face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Morris’ bruised cheekbone and trying to get his attention, but Morris is staring right past him like Tommy doesn’t exist. His eyes are fixed to the door behind the bar, his face pale with terror, breath coming out short and scared.

“Where’s Mr. Jacobi?” Finch asks, although he can once again guess. It’s Albert that answers.

“Went to the back room ‘cause he was scarin’ Mo,” he explains, taking one hand off his broom to point to the door when Finch turns to him. Finch’s brows furrow, a burst of protective anger sparking in his gut despite the fact he knows anything the man might’ve done would’ve been accidental.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothin’,” Al shrugs, turning back to his cleaning. “But Mo thinks he’s gonna get beat. Just ‘cause he dropped a glass.”

Finch watches him, inhaling slowly.

He’d easily pieced it together, of course, but it’s still another matter to hear it said out loud. To have one of his own old fears, born of his own old reality, reflected back at him like this. To see Morris - tall and strong as he is, the same age as the rest of them - hold all of the childish fear Finch likes to think he himself has long let go of.

He exhales, and joins Tommy, crouching down on Morris’ other side. From this close, he can see exactly how bad Morris is shaking, and it makes him jittery too.

“‘S’okay, Mo,” he says, quiet, and tries not to think too hard on it when Morris flinches even at him, his fists clenching like he’s fighting the instinct to punch Finch. “‘S’okay. Ain’t like that here, you ain’t gonna get hurt by nobody. Mr. Jacobi sure ain’t gonna hurt you. He’s…’ey, how does Snipe say it? Paper tiger. He’s jus’ a paper tiger.”

“Morris don’t know what that means,” Al says loudly from where he’s still sweeping up the glass.

Finch supposes he’s right.

“Means he’s harmless,” he explains to Morris, leaning in closer. “Pretends to be scary, but ain’t nothin’ underneath that.” Morris breathes shakily.

“Like Al,” he croaks.

His eyes are still fixed on the door, and he still looks half terrified, but there’s a tiny amount of life returning to him. Finch laughs, both amused by Albert’s offended exclamation somewhere behind them and relieved to have some sort of response from Morris. Morris even dares to move slightly, shifting closer to Tommy who takes him gladly, wrapping his arm round him and resting his cheek atop Morris’ untidy curls.

“Jus’ like Al,” he agrees with a somber nod while Finch is still laughing. Tommy bumps his cheek gently against Morris’ head, that silent way of communicating and expressing affection like they do, and it seems to finally break some more of the spell - enough that Morris this time can dart his eyes away from the door for a second or two, just long enough to look at Finch.

“You was late,” he says quietly. It’s a bold opener, but frankly the one Finch’d expected from Morris for breaking routine. He tilts his head in acceptance, grinning wanly.

“Had to sell m’last papes,” he explains. “Ain’t been a good day.”

Even beyond the fresh fear in his eyes, Morris looks like he ain’t really had a good day either. He looks tired again, like maybe he ain’t slept.

Albert ruffles Finch’s hair roughly as he finally joins them, sitting down heavily in the chair Finch is crouched in front of. Finch glowers over his shoulder, glances briefly at the other chair at the table, but that one’s furthest from Mo, and…okay, maybe Finch’s got a little gnawing about the fact that he weren’t here to do nothing when Mo got scared.

Albert’s good at dealing with the practicality of situations - no doubt he’d put himself right on clean-up duty after he’d told Mr. Jacobi to beat it - and Tommy’s good at being tactile, the solid force that Mo needs to keep him on the ground. But Finch is the talker - he’s the one says the right stuff, does the arguing and the ordering and the comforting.

Although, Tommy’d been doing a pretty good job of the comforting today. Finch feels a wave of gratitude, once again soaking up the fact that they all got each other.

“Speakin’ o’ good days,” Finch says, settling himself on the floor and leaning against Morris’ leg. “Any of youse gonna get me a drink? An’ we gotta get at least one replacement.” He nods behind him to where the mess’d been, teasing.

“Was jus’ water,” Albert defends. Finch shrugs.

“Yeah? I say we pay our respects for it by orderin’ somethin’ better this time.”

“Said you ain’t got money,” Tommy reminds him.

“You two were here on time. Musta sold okay.” Finch grins at them. “Gotta have two cents between ya to get me a seltzer.”

Tommy rolls his eyes right back at him, but he’s the one who stands up, gently stroking Morris’ hair as he goes. He digs through his pockets for his money, and disappears through the back door to find Mr. Jacobi.

Finch immediately clambers up and swipes his seat. A move he plays off as selfish, but is really only to be able to toss an arm around Morris’ shoulders when Mr. Jacobi comes back out with Tommy Boy a couple seconds later. Mr. Jacobi, thankfully, stays away behind the bar, and it’s Tommy who comes over to deliver their drinks once they’re made - a metal tumbler of Finch’s seltzer, and a smaller coffee cup which Tommy puts in front of Morris.

Morris peers at it, confused, then peeks up at Tommy.

“‘S’fo—for you,” Tommy clarifies, nodding to it. “Hot choc’late. Mr. Jacobi said you like it.”

“Didn’ order it,” Morris argues, gaze following Tommy with his brows furrowed as Tommy rounds the table for the empty chair. “Can’fford it.” But then he looks at the cup, and Finch can see how his eyes are alight with something childlike and wanting. It figures that Morris likes hot chocolate.

“Wa—was free,” Tommy says. “Mr. Jacobi said, in case you’re feeling gi—guilty ‘bout the glass.” He leans in closer, almost conspiratorially, across the table, and offers Morris a playful smile. “Told you you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

Morris can’t fight the smile that comes to his face in return. He goes right for the hot chocolate now that he knows he’s got permission, and Finch picks up his own drink. Chugs half of it before he feels Morris nudge him roughly in the arm.

“What?” he asks, putting his cup down. Morris pushes the hot chocolate towards him.

“Bad day. Hot choc’at,” he says, as if that’s plenty explanation, and somehow it is. Finch’d feel guilty if it were anyone else, especially any of the newsies, but Morris likes sharing like this - has had a lifetime of halving everything he’s got to split with his brother, where Finch is used to halving everything to save - so he takes the cup and takes a gulp.

He ignores Albert’s whining that he wants some, too.

#answered #mystery anon #my writing #raremash #morris delancey #finch cortes #albert dasilva #tommy boy

[kiloskywalker]

OKAY, I have some thoughts

OKAY, I just got back from a quick couple of turns and I waited all day to post these thoughts but that means there is some time to ruminate on them. I am SO ANXIOUS, but SO READY and EXCITED for season 4.  With all of the crazy stills we got where it looks like TK is super concerned and Carlos seems to be reassuring him plus ^^^this bombshell, I have some thoughts about what could happen.  My secret dream fantasy is to be a television writer so this is what I would do. 1. I think its possible that Carlos has an older sister (YOU CAN PRY YOUNGER BROTHER CARLOS FROM MY COLD DEAD HC) that he doesn’t happen to be super close with.  Maybe when he came out she was already out of the house and he was worried about what she would think so he never told her, or they just aren’t close anymore for whatever reason and he doesn’t talk about her a lot.  Plus I wouldn’t find it super out of the blue that she doesn’t really know about TK especially since he didn’t really talk about his life with his parents (until TK came along that is).  I am assuming that the “pretty big secret” and the “investigation...” are two different plots here. 2. The other possibility that I have thought about is that Carlos had another serious boyfriend before TK.  Maybe even one that he considered getting married to (but still not as much as he wanted to with TK).  Maybe they broke up because of Carlos’s inability to commit long term because he was unsure of how he would tell his parents, or maybe they broke up because of a similar reason to how he and TK got into a fight at the farmers market.  Maybe they broke up but remained somewhat of good friends with one another and I think it would be so funny if he ran into TK some way maybe on the job and it freaks TK out a bit, not so much that he doesn’t want to get married, but maybe that he feels a little self conscious or concerned about why Carlos didn’t tell TK about this person.  There’s another interview where Rafa says that some people might be upset at Carlos and not telling TK about this person who was a big part of his life is something that I think would cause some people to get a little upset. That being said I don’t know about the second part but I’m excited to see a bigger role for Carlos outside of his relationship with TK.  I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and angst so I’m ready for TK to be an absolute mess while Carlos’s life is in jeopardy. Furthermore, and I just want to say this.  I know there is buzz about the wedding being super dramatic like an emergency happening during the wedding, or Carlos getting hurt on the way and TK thinking he’s been stood up (even by Rafael himself lol), but honestly I just want them to have ONE DAY where everything is happy.  I want the wedding to be beautiful and make everyone cry and there to be no drama.  I know that’s a tall order with a drama show but man I just wanna see my blorbos happy together!  

#word vomit #ranting and raving #911 lone star #911 lone star season 4 #tk strand #carlos reyes #tarlos #my headcanons #these are just my opinions so dont bite my head off #now i want to write a fic with these ideas

[linksthoughtbrambles]

Sirenity

A short story for Zelink Week 2022's 'Age' prompt (see end for notes).

~~~~&~~~~

The head cook has just described Zelda’s appointed knight as ‘a might pale.’

It’s a vast understatement.

Link stands as ready to follow Zelda from the kitchen to the mess as little Prince Sidon would be to swim up the lavafalls of Death Mountain and dive into its caldera.  She can see he’s been sweating despite the chill of late fall, but any trace of heat has dissipated.  Even his hands are pale, and while he remains motionless for the most part, his eyes flicker with nauseating speed across the wide opening between the castle kitchen and the cavernous room in which he had once eaten his meals (before the melee).

A small gasp escapes Zelda as Link glances her way and swallows.  She rather thinks she hears the sound of his bone-dry tongue peeling from the roof of his mouth.

The cook had offered breakfast at a small table tucked in the corner, and Link obviously needs to not leave the kitchen yet.  Zelda gestures toward it, thanking the cook out of habit, and Link’s chest flattens as a soft flow of held breath leaves him, eyelids shut and face upturned as though in prayer.  He strides to the nearer seat and drops into it, face in his hands.  She seats herself across from him, a mere two feet of sanded wood between them.

“Link,” Zelda murmurs.  “I- I know telling a person to relax does not make them do so.  So, I won’t tell you to.  I will, however, say I am here with you.  And you need not be so ashamed.”

“I just,” he tries.

“…Yes?”

“I just…” he tries again.

He fails.

And so has she, clearly.  She should not have forced him near so many soldiers who’d turned on him (as if they’d any right to judge him even had he slept with her!  Whom to love is, frankly, one of few freedoms she has—how disturbing that so many would attempt to deny her that choice).

She’d meant no harm in bringing Link here.  The people in that mess hall would not dare repeat the melee—she’d thought Link would understand it, too, upon seeing them, but she may have failed yet again to grasp the full effects of his social difficulties.  He knows a frown is a frown, but knowing whether it expresses thoughtfulness or disapproval is a different matter.  Perhaps when he gets it right, it’s a result of statistics and not any intuition on his part.  Perhaps he cannot determine whether his assailants still harbor resentment toward him; perhaps he knows he can’t tell for sure, and the uncertainty when he faces them feels like having his head bashed between a gauntlet and the stone wall of the training yard (or perhaps the memory of that particular experience is still too fresh).

She could tell him what she saw--that if anything, the myriad of faces turned toward them as they’d passed on the way here spoke of other things: guilt, fear, sympathy, and some haltingly-opening mouths which suggested an apology would be forthcoming would Link have looked in their direction at all.  Yet she still felt the better course would be for him to see it himself.

She could, of course, be mistaken once again.  After all, him seeing for himself was seven tenths of the reason she’d dragged them down here, and it had thus far backfired, her extraordinary knight having reverted into an anxious, self-conscious mess.

The thought strikes that she, herself, has been less than explicit about her feelings for him, and that may in part be the problem—how could she guide him toward understanding the crisis had passed if he doesn’t even know her own perspective on all this?

Zelda gives her bolstered determination no chance to ebb; she slides her fingers between one of his hands and his face, freeing him from it with care.

He, of course, protests.  “Th-they’ll think-“

“I don’t care what they think.”  She firms her grip on his hand, for contact with her is not and never has been a crime—she wills it to communicate such certainty.  She knows the particular people in this kitchen will enjoy gossiping about this later—they like Link, with his blatant admiration of their cooking and his squirrel-like cheeks as he demonstrates it—and their reactions seem an excellent place to begin Link’s re-education on the castle’s social dynamics.  “Come back to the present, Link.  Look about.  What do you see?”

It takes him a few moments, but he does open the eye she’s uncovered, followed by the other eye once he removes that hand of his own volition.  His bright-sky-blue eyes scan the room in uneasy obedience, lingering on the rolling table and following each cook briefly as they go about their business, then one of the boys who appears envious of Link’s enchanted rupee pouch.

“Anything that bothers you?” Zelda asks.

“…No,” Link says, his face pinching in confusion.  “Not right now.”

Surmising he had indeed expected to fall from the good graces of the kitchen staff over hand-holding, she increases her fingers’ pressure, “Good.”

Plates and shoes scrape as the head cook approaches them.  “Here’s a bite for you, Princess.  Sir Link.  Tea’s heating,” she says with a wide smile and a lilt in her voice betraying just a hint of excitement (to Zelda, at least—whether Link perceives it is, for the moment, known only to him).

“Thank you, Madam Plynne,” says Zelda, encouraged by the confirmation that affectionate behavior would cause no trouble whatsoever in her presence.

“Th-thanks,” says Link with sudden energy at observing the contents of his plate.

Zelda doesn’t know what to think of her own.  It contains two tan-colored lumps slathered in a milky-white substance dotted with some manner of meat and an unusually large concentration of black pepper.  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this in the dining hall!”

“It’s biscuits and gravy.  It’s really good.”

His voice, already quiet, has taken on the hushed tone of a cathedral whisper, and a glance up reveals an expression of abject adoration for his food.

It does smell good, but neither of them can eat effectively while interlocked across the table.  “Will you be alright if I release your hand and try it?”

His gaze remains fastened to his plate.  “Heh.  Yeah.  Thanks, Princess.”

Seeing Link eat is an impactful experience to say the least.  He forks an enormous portion of one biscuit slathered with gravy and somehow manages to insert it in his face without leaving a crumb on the table or losing a single drop of liquid, not even back onto the plate.  He barely seems to chew, but whatever he’s done seems adequate for the food descends into his gullet with an audible gulp.

It never fails to amaze her (or anyone else, it seems).

She lifts her own fork and intentionally spears a small piece of meat and a reasonably-sized portion of biscuit to try. The gravy is so prolific she has no need of chasing it.

Zelda’s outlook on life shifts irreversibly when the heavenly substance meets her tongue.  Why do they not serve this in the dining hall?  The spiciness of the pepper mingles with the gentle sweetness of what must be milk in the gravy and the fluffy starches to generate a wholesome, comforting experience in her mouth.  It settles in her stomach with an equal influx of comfort and satisfaction, and she hastens to consume a heartier portion on her second mouthful.

Link seems equally enamored, if not more so.

“Tea, Princess.  And for you, Sir Link,” says Plynne.

“Thank you,” says Zelda, as her mouth has just been vacated.  Link’s mouth (full to the brim) is in no fit state to speak.  He seems to be trying not to swallow too soon between mouthfuls—whether out of politeness or due to his recently-tremulous state of mind, she isn’t sure.

A whisper of light footsteps draws Zelda’s attention to the door on the outer wall to the grass landing, where the three-foot-high little girl who often sits at the flouring station tiptoes with impressive speed toward their table with her distinctive, mischievous giggle, hands held behind her back.

“Hello, Myrri,” Zelda says.

“Hi, Princess.  Hi, Mister LINKheee,” Myrri says, loudly enough to alert the entire kitchen of Link’s presence had they not been aware already.  Her smile is all teeth and excitedly hunched shoulders. 

Some of the tension re-enters Link’s frame as he turns toward her, but he greets her with an emphatic “Hi!” infused with genuine fondness.  It isn’t every five-year-old who would think to gift a pet snail to a knight recovering from concussion, after all.

A sudden concern that a snail might appear on her plate strikes Zelda. “What do you have there, Myrri?” she asks, resisting the urge to peer behind the child’s back.

Myrri thrusts her face toward Link as she produces a bouquet of nearly-leafless thorned branches, excitedly holding them out for him.  “They’re for YOU.”

The look on Link’s face may be the most priceless Zelda’s ever seen—he doesn’t seem to know whether to balk, smile, pout, or frown.  This results, somehow, in an expressive non-expression which nearly sets her giggling through a forkful of flaky biscuit.

Link appears to recover after a beat and several widening blinks.  “For me?” he asks.

“YEEAAAH,” Myrri replies with astonishing volume for a whisper.

A small smile twitches Link’s lips—an improvement, to be sure (though still reflecting considerable confusion).  “Thanks, Myrri,” he says.  “They’re really nice!”

Myrri proceeds to jerk her head repeatedly toward Zelda, grunt-humming wordless syllables with a rapidly expanding grimace.  After a few moments of this—the child’s patience apparently exhausted—she whispers,’ “You’re supposed to give them to HER!”

Zelda wonders how aware Link is of the now-rapidly-decelerating activity in the kitchen and equally-rapid-acceleration of sidelong-cooks’-glances.  The two young boys who usually run supplies and turn spits peer with ineffective stealth from beneath the food-preparation table near the main hearth.

Zelda watches the pulse jump in Link’s neck as he slowly squares his shoulders toward her, the inconveniently-sharp bouquet shifting in his grip, and he makes eye contact for just an instant, an unvoiced question driving his mouth open and closed again.

Zelda’s amusement at his face must be obvious, for it begins to echo on his.  The pulse in his neck shows no signs of slowing, but his shoulders become more relaxed as he holds the branches across the table in offering-

-and his smile disappears in the space of a breath as he again meets her eyes, this time in the steadiest stare he’s ever laid on her.  “For you, my Princess,” he says, his voice dropping.  He speaks the end of her title so softly, and the feeling enters her, unbidden, of that voice speaking at her cheek, his nose brushing her hair, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine she prays are unnoticeable to the others.

The age of the child so near them precludes her understanding—and thank Hylia it does. 

The age of the child means she cannot possibly have chosen her offering out of some deep insight regarding the nature of Link’s affections for Zelda (or hers for him).

Zelda can only think either Hylia had guided the child’s hand to aid Zelda’s own understanding, or Zelda's mind has simply latched on to the first apt metaphor to present itself.

What else but a bouquet of thorns would it be?

How better to describe the intensity of the true gift Link has just given her?

The monumental nature of the exertion necessary for Link to hold her gaze at length, with such force, makes itself known in its absence elsewhere.  It means, she thinks, more than even he realizes, for he doesn’t spare others’ eyes more than a glance (and he avoids most people’s altogether)—it hurts him, doesn’t it?  It causes some kind of suffering she has yet to empathize with.  Yet he offers her this, and he offers it in public, and Zelda feels she must finally have breached some barrier of invisible barbs—or perhaps he has chosen to breach it himself, and she is simply the siren for whom he’d bear a thousand bloody wounds.

He’s certainly borne many already.

She would bear those wounds for him, too.

Myrri’s “GOOD JOB!” resurrects Zelda’s smile despite the blooming ache within her, and she reaches out.  She accepts Link’s thorns with the care they warranted, avoiding the physical ones—she knows he has no wish for her to bleed into her plate—but with a silent promise to take those within him into herself along with the rest of him.  They are part of him, as inseparable as his sweetness, his courage, his physical prowess, and his inexplicably tolerant love for her.

She wants them.  She wants to come between them and the rest of him, to offer him respite, to take some of their sting for him, however brief the relief might be—and as she says, “Thank you, my knight,” she hears the entirety of that in her own voice.

Link’s breathing quickens; his nostrils flare; his eyes go a fraction wider.  Then he blinks wildly, drains his teacup in one go, and stuffs an unreasonable amount of biscuit into his mouth.

He still isn’t sure, is he?  No amount of promise in her voice will convince him.  He watches her lean the bundle of withering wildberry branches reverently against the wall, and she watches him fail to take in the certainty of it.  She would need to be explicit.  She would need to find an equal amount of courage as he has shown in other contexts.  She knows beyond any doubt his hesitance stems from uncertainty about her feelings, not from his own, for she’s seen his thoughts quite plainly in written form thanks to the Sheikah Slate.

Perhaps in an effort to dissolve his own tension, Link leans toward Myrri and thanks her.

Her response, “YOU’RE WELCOME, GOOD LUCK WITH THE KISSING AND HUGS,” instead visibly solidifies her knight’s discomfort, and he stares at the floor after Myrri vacates it, performing a breathing exercise she’s seen him employ in other situations.

He does find it within himself to look at Zelda again, though he focuses on her nose.  She finds this adorable, and the feeling intensifies along with his grimace (it gives Link a child-like appearance himself, belying his age).

Zelda knows she oughtn’t speak too freely in the crowded kitchen, but she feels a tease reach her lips and decides after a beat to voice it.  It should give her floundering knight another much-needed clue.  “Good luck with that, Sir Link,” she says with an unintended (and, she believes, quite flirtatious) smirk.

Her reward is a much-desired flex of his chest muscles as he sits at sudden attention, chin tilting toward her as one physically tugged.

Zelda hopes with renewed fervor that her signals will reach him, that later he will trap her against the wall behind a drapery and kiss her with unrestrained desire, though she believes the chance is slim.  She eats her breakfast, considering when she might be able to deliver a clearer message, and deciding with finality she would do so that day.  She would wait no longer.  They merely need not be in public.

~~~~&~~~~

[Note: (edit) - I foolishly forgot to thank @aquaticpal for helping me with some ways Zelda might interpret Link's perception here. THANK YOU!!]

[Note: This fic is part of the Adventure Log+ AU, overlapping part of a chapter of Link's Thought Brambles but from a different POV.]

[Note: Sirenity is an amalgamation of siren and serenity. It's not in the dictionary.]

Here's my Zelink Week 2022 fic post list.

Here's my fic masterlist.

@zelinkweekofficial

#zelink week 2022 #botw #zelda #zelink #loz #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #fanfic #linksthoughtbrambles #zelda 3rd person pov #pov swap #adventure log+ au

[moonxkitty]

You're perfect but you're not him (part 5)

Saeyoung x Reader ᗢᘏ౨

Saeran x reader does happen, but it's unrequited love.

You never thought you'd be so nervous to enter Saeyoung's house, yet here you were, anxious as hell. Shaking in your boots. Saeyoung was gone for the weekend. He was assigned a mission from the agency he worked for. Nobody from the outside really knew the details of his job, not even his brother, meaning that Saeran would be home alone. It was the perfect opportunity for you to attempt to patch things up with him. And you definitely were going to take advantage of it.

You made your way up to the metal door that guarded the house, a robotic voice immediately delivering its automated message.

"Please say 'Seven is God' in Arabic to enter."

You let out a sigh, followed by an eye roll. What a Saeyoung thing to do. Unfortunately for you, Arabic wasn't a language you spoke and you weren't one of the frequent visitors of his that just carried around an Arabic dictionary. So, like any reasonable person, you just banged excessively loud on the door.

"Saeran. I know you're in there. Open the door," you begged.

After a few moments he yelled back, "I can't hear you!"

Obviously he could. His response was childish in your opinion but you didn't really have the right to judge. You knew he didn't want to see you but you weren't going to give up that easily.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Your constant banging on the front door made him finally snap and open it.

"Are you happy now?" he asked with a scowl.

"Not yet. Let me inside."

"Saeyoung isn't here."

"I know. I came here to see you."

"Why? To mess with my feelings again?"

You reach a hand out towards him, "Saeran..."

"No," he snarls, pushing you away, "Don't act like you care. You don't and you never have. You just wanted me to pretend to be Saeyoung."

"That's not true, Saeran."

"Don't lie to me. We both know it's true." He turns to leave but you grab his wrist. Your grip is strong, afraid that if you let go you'll never see him again. He looks over his shoulder, clearly unhappy you're stopping him from retreating into the house. From running away from his fears as he often does.

"I'm not lying to you. I know you like ice cream and looking up at the sky. That you don't like it as much when there aren't any clouds. I know that you love flowers. The beauty they bring to the world. You're always so kind to them, no matter how small or withering they are. And you care so much about what they mean. I think that's very special. And that you're very special," you're in tears at this point, trying to explain how you feel. "What I'm getting at is, I do love you Saeran. I never lied about that. But that love was never romantic."

He takes your hand and pulls it off of his wrist in order to hug you. Now he's starting cry, confused on how to feel. "If it wasn't romantic then why did you.... why did you kiss me?" His whispered question lingers in the air for a split second before he continues, "Why did you make me fall in love with you?"

"I'm sorry Saeran. I really am. I didn't mean for this to happen. I got my feelings all confused and you got hurt because of it. When I realized that I wasn't in love with you, I only thought I was because I saw Saeyoung in you... I should've ended things. But I was selfish and I didn't. And for that I'm sorry."

You both stay in silence, still hugging each other. Before eventually Saeran speaks once more.

"It's okay. But please promise me you won't hurt Saeyoung. You make him happy. And his happiness is one of the most important things to me."

You pull away from his hug, still holding onto his shoulders, in order to make eye contact with him. "I promise. I want to make you happy too, I love you both so much."

He smiles faintly, which is the first time you've seen it since that night. "I love you too."

You both had a mutual understanding that those words were no longer under a romantic connotation, but rather a familial one. Maybe things would never be the same between you and Saeran. Maybe Saeran would always hold some sort of resentment towards you, but thats okay. As long as you had him and Saeyoung in your life, you'd be okay.

A/N; Ack I finally finished this fanfic after like forever. I've been procrastinating so my bad. Anyways I hope you enjoyed it if you did read it and that you have a good day/night! (人´∀`)

#fanfic #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung x reader #707 mm #mm 707 #mysme 707 #mystic messenger saeran

[princessquinnella]

Sibs Birthday Day get-together went off exactly as expected. 🎉

I’m just an Anxious shaking mess the whole time walking on eggshells, and she’s just being her usual “everybody is just pissing me off” self for even the smallest of things.

We start playing this game like Clue but not? Like you had to guess the murderer and stuff and give hints / clues to people - but then lie about everything so people wouldn’t suspect anything or make them trust you. Apparently parents aren’t “playing right” Im just confused throughout.

⚠️

(Lots of Cussing)

She just starts yelling at the top of her lungs and cussing everybody out “YOU’RE BEING PURPOSEFULLY OBTUSE FUCK YOU ALL YOU FUCKING DUMBASS CUNT ASS MOTHER FUCKERS!!! FUCK THIS FUCK EVERYONE HERE YOU ARE ALL SO DUMB AND STUPID!! ITS MY BIRTHDAY AND YOU ALL JUST HAVE TO BE LITTLE DUMB FUCKING CUNTS FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND BEING PURPOSEFULLY FUCKING DUMB!!!”

I should know not to speak up ever because my mere existence is enough to piss her off but I just offhand - to the other sibling - mentioned I was having fun - confused but the game was kind of fun - in hindsight Never try speaking up in such a case cuz it never works for someone always just wanting to see the worst and be the worst - I get another loud directed “FUCK YOU!!” And she “FUCK YOUS!!” Everyone in the room before slamming the door.

I can’t hold it in anymore - and she’s gone, slammed door is shut - the tears start falling and my shaking goes from minor rocking to try and steady myself to full on panic. Cue me frantically trying to wipe away tears and snot as I think I hear her start to come back cuz if she sees that she’s gonna get all bitchy again because you can’t have any negative feelings towards her even when she treats everyone around her like the worst pieces of shit to exist - and yet somehow she has a boyfriend for years, I pity him.

Other sis helps me get my tears under control, even gives me a hug which is STARTLING cuz I’m always used to her being on the other Sibs side and me just being “over dramatic”.

Birthday Bitch comes out and is all “Does everyone have their fucking attitudes in check now?!” All pissed off at US for daring to “make her mad / be stupid cunts”.

Me and my disabled ass being unable to drive, and Mom not wanting to “abandon” her on her birthday, makes us all stay!! Isn’t that just so swell?! 😄 And I’m trapped in that mess - off to an overstimulating dinner place, then back home to play Monoploy until 10:00 at night with her always on the verge of another blow out.

NO APOLOGY because she has never in all her life EVER apologized for anything she’s ever done. She can just treat people as terribly as she wants and just be all “haha well Im just bitch! 😜” as if simply acknowledging she’s a bitch automatically exempts her from all shit things ever.

I am still shaking and trying to hold back tears. Today is a bed day. This shit always happens. She’s going to show up sometime today maybe so that will be “fun”.

#vent #cussing #anxiety mention #I could really use some sweet words from James or Basil… just some comfort… #If I stay in bed maybe the covers will just swallow me whole

[irastayshome]

Change requires courage, but not changing doesn't signify the lack of it. There are reasons beyond what my own thoughts can rationalise as to why I can't bring myself to hire a maid.. or continue in this job.. or move in with my parents.. or finally admit I am now single and behave like it.

A book I've been trying to read - keyword 'trying' because my mind can't seem to focus on anything cognitive for long these days - had a profound perspective. The unconscious mind has wisdom far beyond what the conscious mind dictates. If I were to give voice to some of these wisdom, it would sound so odd and misplaced, maybe even stupid. Like if I were to say that I do not wish to hire a maid to solve the daily struggle I have in getting enough sleep before going to work the next day because I was up doing dishes and laundry.. and justify it by my assertion that this space, confined by the walls that witnessed his decline and his demise and our arguments and our reconciliations and all the quiet moments that could easily be lost and swept away in memory.. it is sacred.

I know we do not bring anything or anyone to the ground with us when it is our time. To Him we belong and to Him we return. But allowing a stranger to step in, clean the mess and carnage left behind, someone who has no idea the significance of every receipt or broken household item or anything else one might sensibly decide to throw away without question.. it is too risky. We are still in a bubble.. where the slightest curve in the breeze makes us all unhinged and anxious about when it will all pop. When he will fully be gone from our lives.. when we will finally be forced to move on, even if we aren't ready to let go. How else would I explain all that sensibly, other than how I just did? It sounds like big allegories that may seem empty, but it really isn't.. not for me. Its even more concrete and real to me than a simple "a maid would solve all your sleep and caregiving struggles". The unconscious mind has a far more powerful effect on the will than the conscious mind. Its wisdom commands more respect than most of us are willing to give.

The job.. it's just a job honestly. Its for bills, and for escape, and for some semblance of achievement to keep me from spiraling into despair. But if I'm being truly honest, it's also to fight the loneliness I feel deep in my core. Not the kinda loneliness that makes me wake up heart racing after dreaming about being kissed so passionately and embraced so intensely that it broke my heart a little when I literally woke to reality - though this kind of loneliness I must admit is getting a little too much for comfort. The loneliness I feel deep down is not having anyone to hear what I feel about the genocide in Palestine, or about the political satire in PAP lately, or about my worries for AI taking over, or what I honestly feel about my 6 Yr old falling "in love" with his classmate. Its having a mate.. to laugh with, to muse with, to watch things you don't wanna watch alone with. Someone who just gets you, and accepts you wholly, and calls you out when necessary because they want you to win.. while they're right beside you.

So, in that manner, no. This job does not fight off this loneliness. It drains my bank accounts even more because my impaired mind keeps making lots of financial and ethical blunders, costing us so much more than if I were just unemployed. In terms of achievement and helping the less fortunate, nothing feels satisfying when your own house is on fire and you're not able to save your own family first. That's just how it is for me. Those boys are more important than anything else in the world now, and I'm completely replaceable at work, but not at home.

Sigh. Who are these musings even for. Are you reading this yang, somehow? You've always hated long texts from me.. why would you start liking it now right.. I really do feel like I'm going crazy sometimes.

[dumbthingsthat]

I moved out and I'm so fucking depressed i can't do anything else besides go to work and come back and lay down. I pay for everything. I clean everything. I keep stuff running. My "partner" just makes messes and doesn't clean up after themselves and has the goddamn nerve to say they work too much. I work 40 hr weeks, 10hr days, 7 to 6 and then i still have to cook and clean and do it all over again. For fucking $15 an hour AND IM THE MAIN BREAD WINNER?? Complain about their job but still not do anything to find another one or invest time elsewhere. It must be nice to decide to not go into work full knowing your partner has to shoulder most if not all the bills.

Must be fucking nice to invite your friends over to "your" place and smoke weed and ruin things in "your"place. I heard all the time how you want to feel comfortable in your place BUT I DON'T GET THAT LUXURY. I don't get to feel comfortable bc i have to pick up after a grown person. I can't sleep at night bc they keep rolling over on my side. Now i get why my mom sleeps on the couch so much. There's no space for her. I got an office chair and I haven't even gotten to use it at all BUT THEY GET TO USE IT. MY CHAIR THAT I BOUGHT THEY GET TO USE MORE THAN ME.

They are so co-dependent, I can't like spend time by myself without having them wonder if I'm mad. NO I WOULD JUST LIKE TO HAVE MY SPACE TO DO WHAT I WANT. WE CAN HAVE SEPARATE LIVES AND LIVE TOGETHER. It drives me up a fucking wall how much they need me to literally be like in the same room to have reassurance. How the fuck can you miss me when we are literally in the same apartment?? I didn't go anywhere, i am 2 doors away. I didn't miss my parents or my brothers when they were in the same house but we were in separate rooms??? I fucking hate that shit. I can't feel comfortable, I'm getting pushed out of my own space THAT I PAY FOR and it pisses me off. They bitched about having everybody always needing them to do something that they were perfectly capable of doing themselves but for whatever reason they don't get that's exactly what they're doing to me. I have to clean shit that you can put up yourself. I have to pay for shit and hope you have money to pay for half of it and still get whined at if i don't let you get what you want. PAY FOR SOMETHING AND YOU CAN GET WHATEVER. ITS MY FUCKING MONEY THAT I WORK FOR AND CANNOT EASILY TAKE A DAY OFF BC I DON'T FEEL "RESTED" ENOUGH FOR. I AM EXHAUSTED BUT CAN'T SLEEP. I AM ANGRY AND CAN'T TELL YOU WITHOUT YOU CRYING AND BEING ANXIOUS ABOUT IT. I AM SICK OF LIVING THIS WAY AND IT HAS BEEN 3 WEEKS. God i am tempted to just go back home and like pay for stuff here but i cannot sleep, I'm going insane and it's impossible to do anything until my insurance kicks in next month. I am really at a jumping off point and literally having nothing I can think of to hold me back is fucking terrifying. I moved out, i work in the field i want, i am completely independent now and i want to stop existing. I hate it

[manifesting-mari]

im feeling so much anxiety. i’m not sure if its anxiety or just feeling activated. if i’m just feeling good. i definitely have anxiety over my money stuff that im mostly feeling numb about. can you be anxious without feeling it? i can feel it like a slight buzzing in a far off corner, but its mostly numb. i definitely am being called to do more work in this area of my life, especially around money. i think i’m good at receiving money, but im not good at holding on to it. maybe love is the same. im good at giving and receiving. but the feeling of having is freaking me out. yeah. the having. I read this in EK about the havingness level. i can feel how anxious i am knowing that i have at least $500 in my checking and $1000 in my savings. that makes me anxious. i can feel the tightness in my chest when i think about me and jordan’s relationship basically just staying the way it is. i feel like i’m a mess. i feel like i’m this messy person that doesnt deserve things. thats the havingness level. i feel like i’m not supposed to have. thats the codependency. im not supposed to have so i find people who have what i feel like im not allowed to and i feed off of them and become an energy vampire. i dont wanna do that. not anymore. i saw what that did to other people i was around and either i left them or they left me. im ok with being messy. and i take responsibility for my mess. i dont expect anyone else to come and help me clean things up, but people do, just as i facilitate for others, others are there to help me. I am grateful for the people in my life who still give to me unconditionally even though I have trouble receiving. This is the next level of expansion for me. facing these shadows. the parts of me that still feel shame and guilt around receiving. It is safe to receive. it is safe to have. it is safe to have more money than i need for survival. it is safe for me hold on to money and not give it away so quickly. it is safe for money to be with me. it is safe for me to have a long-term relationship based on mutual values and trust. it is safe for me to allow someone to care for me. it is safe for me to accept love, attention, and presence from another person. it is safe for me to create healthy, long lasting relationships. it is safe for me to make mistakes, learn, and grow in relationships. it is safe for me to be honest with my partner. i feel like the way i treat money is the way i treat a significant other. i want it really bad and i think itll make my life better and make me more happy, and it does, but then for some reason i give or push it away. i look for a reason for the money or the person not to stay with me and i challenge its presence in my life. why do i have to question why something good is happening to me? i dont trust the good. its ok for me to trust the good. it brings me back to the ballet story. when my classes were no longer available to me, i felt that thing i love be taken away. and that kept happening with things in my life that i really wanted. i got the thing, but then i subconsciously pushed it away. because i didnt think i deserved to have. i dont think i deserve to have an abundance of money, or an abundance of love. i love havign abundance and its ok for me to live that life. having wealth does not make me a bad person. having money does not make me a bad person. I can be safe having someone love and care for me unconditionally. i am allowed to have all the great things i want in this life. i am allowed to have a job that brings me wealth, joy, flexibility, and comfort. I am allowed to have a loving, committed relationship. it is safe for me to be in a relationship. it is safe for me to have money. I am safe. i can feel the ways where having money made me feel unsafe. where my mom would make me feel like i couldnt trust myself with money. where my dad always said not to have too much or people would take it away from you. no one is taking anything away from me. NO ONE IS TAKING ANYTHING AWAY FROM ME. not even myself. i’m no longer denying myself the things i want in this world. i am no longer feeding into the cycles that keep me from the life that i want. I choose to embody the habits of the life i know is attainable and possible. I am clearing out the truths that used to live inside me and replacing them with new truths that are leading me and my family toward bigger and better choices. In the Neville Goddard book they were talking about destiny. how destiny always changes. one destiny only exists so it can lead you to another. i feel like right now my destiny is to transcend these patterns of our oppression and bring about the love and compassion that my ancestors dreamed of. I am not my ancestors. i am not the oppressed, and my heart breaks for those who are still being pushed down by the systems that we all stay blind or helpless to. I choose to be different to try to do something different to bring more love and compassion to people who have been oppressed, so that future generation dont know the oppression i know. I thank my ancestors who i see and feel. who i know worked so hard and struggled and fought and grew in their own way so i may know a different kind of work. so i may know a life that is greater than survival. so that i may know a life where our bloodline can thrive. I want my daughters to have the heart to understand their ancestry, and have the vision to know even greater things than i may ever imagine, i know my father is proud. i know hes grateful for the work i’ve been doing. I am healing my blood line. i am building a life greater than my ancestors could have ever dreamed. i am building a life that my children will know as normal.

it is normal to receive love and abundance from others. 

it is safe to receive money and abundance from others.

it is normal to feel your feelings.

it is safe to feel your feelings.

it is normal to have more than you need for survival.

it is safe to have more than you need for survival. 

it is normal to have healthy relationships.

it is safe to have healthy relationships.

it is normal to speak your truth.

it is safe to speak your truth.

it is normal to love others.

it is safe to love others.

it is normal to grieve.

it is safe to grieve.

it is normal to receive.

it is safe to receive.

it is normal to relax and rest.

it is safe to relax and rest.

I can feel that part of me that is resisting these new truths. that loves the pain and the struggle. that is so activated and turned on by not having and not receiving without conditions.she really is a kinky bitch. im grateful to be doing this work. im grateful to be aware of whats going on and have a larger perspective. this is gonna be fun.

#shadow work #shadowself #existential kink

[hopefulseeker]

I seem to be unable to find peace, there’s always something happening in my life, not being loved has always been the issue, I don’t even love myself, so why would anyone else would love me ?

Well, someone did… despite everything… we both were broken… and I liked that…

I haven’t written in a while, well I was mostly “Neutral”, I learned that my friends don’t hate me as I thought they did, and I was done with love, I stopped looking for it. But it found me…

This is the story of A Life I’ll Never Allow Myself To Have…

I met this guy, and we were friends, but we grew closer of course, he was in dark places, I was in dark places, we were alike, I felt like I finally had a best friend who truly knew what it was like to be me, so as the fixer I am, I helped him to step into the light, out of some of those dark places, and I also stepped into the light from some of my own dark places thanks to his help… but eventually the Bromance we had built, lost a a B… turns out he was Bisexual… and he fell in love with me, for who I really was, for the broken mess I am… so it turned into a Romance… which I spent most of its days denying every single act of affection he tried to give me, no kisses, no hugs, no holding hands, not alone time, no nothing… actually I can’t believe he still wanted me after all that rejection of his love… but I didn’t rejected these just because I didn’t wanted them… I did it to protect us, he has a Homophobic family, I don’t even wanna know the position my family has in the subject and the fact that he was once the partner of a close friend… so 3 main reasons for which I always said no… those and my fear of commitment, my mind not knowing what I really felt for him, was it love or was it the affection he gave me ?, and some other problems of my own… so I played along for a while, it felt good, I was fucking happy for once, I had everything I desired so much… yet I didn’t felt worthy of it, therefore I wasn’t accepting it… I sabotaged it as I always do, yet he was still there… so he gave in eventually… he understood why I acted the way I did, and he was ok with it… he was a lovely golden retriever who fell in love with a black cat… we slowly began to drift away from our feelings… it was hard but we were letting each other down slowly so it wouldn’t hurt… at parties some friend told us we looked like a happy couple, inside me I was anxious bc we really could have been a nice marriage, let’s play close attention for the word marriage… bc even when I didn’t knew what I truly felt for him, I knew our, let’s call them “psychological traits”, so I’d fall for him, he’d fall for me, and we would began a negative feedback, thanks to our needs for love and our love for one another, and we both knew that if we had begun something, it would have lasted a long long time, and we couldn’t afford that, not at this stage in our lives… so we began to drift away, but we did it to fast it felt wrong, so we talked about it, and stablished a way to do it slowly, and we both agreed… we should have waited longer… one day I received 8 phone calls from this guy, and I was so nervous, a new level of affection?, I wanted to throw up, well I was wrong, it wasn’t affection… It was his mom… she took his phone from his hands while he was smiling to my messages… so she called me, asking for explanations on my relationship with his son, I told her nothing but the true.

+Your son and I are just friends

- Don’t try to fool me, I’ve read how you talk to each other, like a bunch of faggots, you believe that to be natural???, I told my son to get away from you, but i didn’t knew you were you, you seem a lovely boy when I saw you…

+ Well I’ve heard a lot from you and I wanted to meet you, despite everything your son has told me about you

- Really? Well he’s planning on leaving the house, without a single dime, I hope you know you ruined a life, and I hope you feel remorse for what you’ve done, are You openly homosexual to your parents?

+ Well of course (A solid Lie)

- Then I’ll have a word with them, I hope you are happy for ruining my boys life

**End of the call**

So… it’s been now, 4 days without talking to him… the first 4 days… there’s no countdown to ever talk to him again… we talked in the past about him not feeling good under that roof, I told him that he should do what made him happy, without putting himself under a lot of pressure, but he chose the pressure of a job over the pressure of living under a roof were he couldn’t be himself… so i feared for him, and called our closest friends -The only ones that knew about us (at least from us)- to find a roof for him, bc the lady sounded like he was doing it ASAP, finding a roof wasn’t hard, finding him was the hard, stressful part -His mother took his phone from him, he has been off the grid for 4 days now-, we knew nothing from him, if he was fine, leaving his house or even alive (He have had suicidal thoughts before…)… so one of our friends offered to pay him a visit once he got home from the Hollidays, so we crafted an encrypted card, saying I was ok after his mother attacked me… once my friend got to him, he was alright… but dominated by his mother at some degree… she talked to him in private and explained the card… which he almost cry to when he saw my encrypted message we both knew… then his mother talked to my friend about his sons behavior and said she loved him with her life, she’d do anything for him, even help him move out and to give him support after he moves out -Which he didn’t had before I met his mother-, everything but to accept me… she draws the line in that unnatural behavior… to which my friend changed subject bc she doesn’t have the stomach to hear someone talk nonsense about a friend (who does?), then they agreed to celebrate his incoming birthday, all his close friends, all but “That little boy”… she’s on a hunt, talking to his close friends… she targeted and mentioned one of our closest friends, but she doesn’t want to talk to her, bc she will break after she drops the homophobic bomb… maybe even i am targeted… to talk or to die…

So i already know he is safe, not happy, but safe, that’s enough for me… I’ll stay away from him… bc we ain’t friends, we haven’t been in a while… he is the boy that made me feel the happiest I’ve ever been… he’ll never be my friend again… so I’ll stay away to keep him from any trouble… to keep his mother from taking her support on him… to keep myself out of trouble… and to find a way in my mind to know what I truly feel for this guy…

I doubt I’ll ever come back there, even if his mother begs me on her knees for forgiveness… All this trouble I’ve caused, when I was on my way out…

But I can’t help to wish to take one of those “No” just to have another moment together…

Goodbye, my almost lover…

[seance]

Thank you for responding and I'm sorry if I came of as defensive! I'm really anxious right now as someone in the Witcher and DC fandom because I like being in both and don't want to have to choose if there's tension.

I personally like the DCEU (or DCU, whatever they're calling it now) and I've been hoping for a soft reboot for years. There's a lot of great individual projects (imo, I've enjoyed most of the shows and movies) but the behind the scenes stuff has been a mess. We've been wanting Cavill back as Superman for years and it feels like a good start to righting the ship, along with getting James Gunn as CEO. Those are just my feelings as a cautiously optimistic DC fan.

I am still upset about what's going on with The Witcher though, so many DC and Marvel actors do multiple projects, some have even been in both DC and Marvel. So the Superman contract shouldn't stop him from that.

Idk, I just have such mixed feelings! Super excited about the Superman stuff, super devastated about Geralt. He's the perfect actor for both characters, he embodies them in a way I don't think anyone else can. No hate to Liam Hemsworth but I don't think he can live up to Cavill's Geralt at all.

of course, your feelings about this are 100% valid, i hope you know that!

also i wanted to make clear that at the moment we don't know if that's really the reason he's leaving, the timing just lines up (considering what happens in black adam) but even if, it's not sure this is the only thing causing him to move on from the project, i don't want to make a fuss about it specifically. at the end of the day these are people we don't know anything about and that's okay.

i can't lie and say i'm not a bit sad about him leaving, mostly because of his dedication to the character but also because the series is already fragile as it is even within its own fanbase, with all the writing choices they made last season. i fear it won't really survive such a radical change, maybe netflix will decide to just keep the spin offs and the animated series and call it a day who knows. as you can probably tell i don't trust any of these companies, it's not just WB ahah

i'm also praying for a good reboot of the dcu (calling it that cause it's easier), i prefer their stories over marvel stories for example but even with marvel collapsing in quality lately, they still haven't be able to trap people in that kind of blind devotion just yet like marvel has. so i'm honestly hoping they'll manage to do that with GOOD STORIES, well written stories, that will also do these actors justice at this point.

i'm puzzled about liam ngl, nothing against him in particular, just shocks me that they decided to cast someone even YOUNGER when geralt is supposed to be a lot older already so yeah. i fear this is not going to end well, we'll just have to wait and see! crossing my fingers for both franchises.

#replies #text #anonymous #we'll probably never know what really happened behing the scenes #let's just hope it's nothing too bad

[seollenda-moved]

Yo 😎 Could I please request twice x reader? The couple had split up but mutually, reader gets seriously injured and members immediately rush to look after them then they confess that they still love each other and want to try their relationship again

thank you for the submission :) this was an interesting exercise in trying to understand and characterize them the best i can...i hope i've done them justice!

[ my submissions box is currently closed ! ]

nayeon:

the first thing nayeon does when she hears you’re hurt is try to call you, but of course you aren’t able to pick up. she’s at a loss, her mind at once racing and blank, her hands shaking

she’s a whole mess, to be honest. she has to get a ride to the hospital, has to gather herself on the ride because she can’t come into your room crying

but when she finally finds you, the tears come back anyway

she hugs you best she can while you’re on the hospital bed, drowsy with morphine. you end up the one comforting her

“i shouldn’t have said those things,” she babbles. “it was all so stupid…i can’t even remember what it was about, i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, love,” you reassure her

neither of you had been fair; it was the heat of twenty unresolved arguments, casting you two apart in what you’d really thought was for good

so serious in the moment, so silly now

“i could’ve lost you.”

the two of you know its true, but nobody wants to acknowledge that.

can we try again?

you’re the one who asks first

and she nods wordlessly, with something between a sob and a laugh, pressing the back of your hand to her cheek

there could never have been any other ending for the two of you.

jeongyeon:

you blink awake to the sight of jeongyeon, looking at once vexed and anxious, your hand clasped in both of hers.

“yah,” she mutters, failing to disguise the shaking in her voice. “what were you thinking? walking around alone…in the dark…”

“what, crossing the street?” you laugh weakly. “am i not allowed to cross the street now?”

“you never pay attention to where you’re going anyways,” she retorts, but there’s no fire behind her words. she swipes tears from her eyes, scooting her chair closer to your bedside

it had been messy until it wasn’t

until jeongyeon had figured it all out and come back to you one day and said “i think this isn’t working”

and the both of you were just too tired to give it another chance. so you let it fade out

well, only for a week. until you were bowled over by a mini cooper at 10:39 pm on a (quite shitty) friday night

and jeongyeon looks like something else is in her eyes now, maybe something new had turned over in that quiet mind

she says she wants to try again. but only if you do, too

and there’s no question about it

so you do

momo:

momo has always been bad at goodbyes

the two of you seemed to mutually agree to disappear from each others lives

you’d found traces of her everywhere anyway–scraps of her favourite chocolate wrappers fallen behind the bedside table, a lost sock here, a scrunchie there

you’d found something bigger that day; her favourite hand cream, stashed in your bedside table. for some reason you’d dropped it in your purse

maybe you were considering finding a reason to find her again, to return it, to see if there was anything left for her like there was for you

but now she’s here next to you

her hands shaking and her tears overflowing and unable to utter anything other than your name

her hands, gentle, sweet, familiar

you nod at your bag hanging at the end of your bed; she hands it to you immediately

you retrieve the hand cream, hold it up to her and she can only laugh

“i was gonna give it back, i promise”

“i love you.”

she usually says these words always in a rush; always bursting forth from her in earnestness

but this time she’s hung onto it for a long time, and says it carefully so you understand.

“i love you too, momoring.”

sana:

“why didn’t you call me?”

she’s already in your house, the spare key hanging off the pink fluffy keychain in her hand, a big bag of takeout food in the other

you’re on your couch, properly incapacitated anyway. she sets everything down, throws her coat down on the chair she always dropped her clothes on, hurries to your side

tries to make sense of you, of what’s happened

“i got home last night,” you reply. “i could barely call my parents…how did you…?”

“your mom,” she says, propping your pillow higher against your head. “they should’ve kept you longer at the hospital”

she’s trying to hide it, but she’s hurt, maybe not by you, certainly not blaming you

but maybe this was too close for comfort

a week out and the universe seemed to have reminded her that things weren’t as permanent as she’d thought

maybe you two holding out on a friendly split was too optimistic; it was always going to be all or nothing with the two of you

maybe it was a clue that you never erased her from your phone or photo roll, that you procrastinated asking for the key back, that you’d kept her toothbrush on the sink just a little longer

“sana,” you start, not knowing where it’s going before you finish

“shush,” she says, wiping her tears, turning to get the food she brought you and set you up properly. “it’s not about that right now”

“can it be, for a second? sana?” and she’s quiet, and you’re afraid you’ve pushed it too far

“i can’t lose you, okay? i don’t know on what terms this will be…i don’t know what you want, but i can’t let go of this”

“me neither, sana.”

and maybe something has always stuck around after all

jihyo:

“jihyo?”

you’re in a painkiller haze, but it’s definitely your ex-girlfriend hurrying into your hospital room, her brows set in concern and determination

you begin to sit up

“lie back,” she snaps, and you resist the old urge to defy her bossiness

because you could see the tears threatening to spill already

she comes to an awkward stop by your side, suddenly at a loss

there’s nothing she can do, and park jihyo can’t stand feeling helpless, out of options

but that was what had ended it all, right? when you’d thought there was more, but jihyo felt like it was a rehash every time

“what are you doing here?”

“i’m still listed as an emergency contact apparently.”

oh.

of course, that doesn’t explain why she came, a month after it was resolved, a month of pretending it didn’t hurt to hear about how she was doing just fine through mutual friends, of avoiding her because you were afraid that you would be the one unraveling while she stood firm, always park jihyo in the face of it all

she pulls up a chair, takes your hand, her eyes traveling up your body which is definitely worse for wear

the concern in her eyes feels familiar, immediately safe, you’re already compromised by whatever pharmaceutical concoction is in your veins, but for the first time, you feel like your guard is finally coming down

“jihyo, i miss you.”

“i’m right here”

she smiles, a small sorrow tinged expression that reaches her eyes. you shake your head gently against the pillow.

“no, i missed you. and i kept missing you…”

and in the warmth of her gaze, you have no fear again

“i still love you.”

something falls into place in her expression.

“i still love you too.”

let’s still try again.

mina:

she’s never been good at crises, really

but the moments when it’s for someone else, your minari was there, shaking but unmoveable

stubborn in her principles, even when she withstood everything else in her that told her to let go

you couldn’t be sure if those principles were what drew her away or what kept her from leaving, but when she said she realised something, you knew she was right

she never claimed to know what she didn’t know

but what had changed now?

“y/n, i don’t know what should have happened, but it wasn’t this,” she whispers next to you

she thinks you’re asleep but the sound of her voice filters through the haze of pain and numbness

“i’m sorry,” she continues, “you always said it was you but i never wanted to say that it was me, it was everything i had taken for granted”

“it might’ve been both of us,” you finally rasp, and she jolts up in silent surprise, her dark eyes round, lined with tear smudged makeup

she almost can’t believe you’re lucid

“was the doctor that grim about it?” you crack, but she can’t seem to smile at your feeble joke

“no, i…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“should i pretend i’m asleep again? i didn’t mean to cut you off.”

and she finally laughs because you always make her laugh, it’s something she can’t help and neither can you

“can you stick around a little longer?” you ask, but the both of you know what the question is meant to be

and she nods and kisses you

you fall in love all over again

dahyun:

your dahyunie gets so serious that it is almost frightening

not because she’s angry or mean, but because the usual reliably humor-natured dahyun disappears

and in her place is a sign that things are dire

the last time you’d seen that was when a fight burned hot and then cooled fast

and left the two of you frozen in place, once molten and now wrought into ugly shapes

she saw it for what it was, and you feared that finally she saw who you were for who you are

and she was never cruel, but it was over

but now here she is standing next to you two weeks later, so still and so careful a second time, her eyes betraying little

“you didn’t have to come,” you say, but she doesn’t want to hear it,

she isn’t here for you to push her away with false reasons

“if you want me to leave, tell me, y/n” she says. “but i can’t stop thinking about you, and now i can’t stop worrying about you.”

“sorry”

and though it’s an attempt at levity it only springs tears to her eyes

her hug is the same as it always has been when she gave them, warm and fierce

whatever she’s decided between now and the last time you saw her, you know she’s made up her mind

and trusting her is of second nature

chaeyoung:

when son chaeyoung departed your life with affectionate but honest goodbyes, you thought you’d lost hold of a fairy, one who came and went and left all wanting in her wake

a long year passed, and you knew she was well and you knew that whatever life you could have without her, you were leading it

so your health downturn was a literal and metaphorical slowdown, a shock in the road

a week into managing on your own, she appears on your doorstep, just herself, in her little well worn sneakers and favourite hoodie

smiling like nothing has changed, like she’s sent here on the same mission she had arrived in your life with

because she always knows what you need, sometimes better than you do

and in this moment you need her

as if your soul had cried out in secret and she’s answered

except this time she looks at you with all the frankness of her being and tells you that she was here to stay, that her roots were always set here

you can only ever believe your chaengie, when she returns to you with another piece that fit the puzzle, and she says this time she knows, and whatever little big pieces of the world she figures out, it’s usually right

how did you know? you ask her after that evening’s dinner, over tea and the quiet drone of a tv rerun

she’d only winks and squeezes your hand

how could she not?

tzuyu:

you don’t have to, you didn’t have to

that’s what you’d said, but she’d brushed you off every time, because of course she did–it’s what made sense

couldn’t you see?

maybe you couldn’t.

so you’d broken apart mutually, and you couldn’t tell if she’d felt the same way you did, stepping away from each other

because she’d pointed out that you two had tried it all, what was left?

but when she finds her way back to you, she says that you were right

when she stays by your side the first night at the hospital, receives news that you’re able to return home

she gathers everything together and looks you in the eyes and smiles that gentle dependable smile again

we’ll rebuild, she tells you, helping you to your feet

finding all the bits and pieces of your life that had fallen off when she’d left it

and when you hold the center of the matter, and she all the other parts, you know that it'll work

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