rip to ur notifications when i finally decide to kick my own butt into reblogging everything in my likes 😔✌🏻💖
hi my darling!! you may fire at will. just fuck up my notifications. shoot them point blank. ill start planning the funeral 💕
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I’ll never get over that it took just one strangers small moment of kindness to change Xie Lians path. All of the suffering he went through, all of the despair, the disillusionment, all not forgotten or even forgiven, but reconciled. All because one person, not Hua Cheng, not family, not his ex friends, not his people, reached back to him when he’d been starting to lower his own hand in defeat. It’s possibly my favorite and most meaningful part of TGCF for me, because for me it stops being about these two guys who were meant for each other and were impossibly lucky enough to have found each other, and becomes a story about a person who had lost his way in his world so thoroughly that he lost himself, only to be found and put back on his feet by that same world that he mourned so terribly. His world stops being a concept of scale of numbers, black and white, good and bad, and becomes about the individual. What he can do to help individuals, the connections he can make with them. Their histories, their names, their faces. Inside each person is it’s own world. He’d been knocked off his pedestal, and the fall hurt to the point of breaking. But now that he’s risen to his feet, he’s able to look all these people in the eye, and they’re so much taller than he’d seen before.
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If it's not too much trouble or boring to write, may I ask for more König taking care of sick reader? Thanks :)
(The anon that asked for the other sickfic and that is sick again 🥲)
König brings you breakfast. Tries, at least. There was an attempt made to ensure that the plate of hastily thrown together food and the big mug of lemon tea look nice together. Warm bread and your favorite jam, butchered on the plate with the butter running off to the other side of it entirely. He’s not a chef, and breakfast isn’t quite his forte; König much prefers you cooking in the mornings and the lazy way he can drape himself over you as you do so.
But… you’re ill and look so somber and adorable tucked into bed, wearing one of his shirts and hardly able to keep your eyes open when you’re presented with food. To think this poor little angel would have to suffer so… He momentarily sets everything aside, tells you in a quiet tone of voice that everything around the house has already been handled, so all you need to do is focus on taking care of yourself. No. Actually, he can help you with that too.
Despite any protests, you find yourself seated in his lap, one large hand gently caressing your cheek as a digit prods at your lips. There’s an expectation of compliance. He knows what’s best, or, has himself convinced that he does.
“You have to eat,” he chides, bringing the bread right up to your mouth. Apple butter for the first bite, some other sticky confection on the next. And as frustrating as it might be when all you would like to do is curl back into bed and nurse your aching head with the comfort of a cool pillow, König does not let up until every crumb on the plate has been cleared.
There’s a dollop of jam smattered across your bottom lip from being hand-fed like a disobedient pet. Then, a warm tongue grazing over it and a mouth leaving a trail of kisses up to the peak of your warm cheek. “Messy little thing,” he huffs against your temple. “And your tea..?”
Thankfully, he doesn’t try to scald your mouth feeding you that, too. His hands find your hair instead, then massage at the nape of your neck as you sip away at the bitter drink. There’s a rumble in his chest as he tries to soothe you, humming a song his Oma used to sing to him as a boy until your eyes shut and you relax against his chest in sleep.
If or… when you do try to leave the bedroom, you’re met with a horribly doting brute. He isn’t entirely sure what else he can do to console you. He isn’t one to sit about on his phone for hours on end, but his search history is assuredly a mess by now. You’re not given the chance to walk even a foot past the threshold of your shared room before you’re picked up and toted about like a bride on her wedding day with no warning.
Medicine is pressed into your mouth by his hand while you’re sat on the countertop, trying to assure your weary, giant nurse that you’re fine. He could stand to relax a bit. König is nothing short of a tense, anxious nightmare when he’s worried about something, especially something as important as you. It’s no surprise when you find yourself lying back on the couch with his face buried into your chest as you stroke at the top of his head, the overgrown buzzcut prickling the tips of your fingers. He smiles in his sleep, babbles something like a wish as his hands twitch to squeeze at your sides.
“Just… stay right here.”
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The fact that you're so fat is major stress relief for me during a very tumultuous period of my life.
very happy to help with this 🥺 would getting even fatter be more of a relief, too?? because that can be arranged!!
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hello! this may be a big request, i’m not sure- but! i was wondering if you could draw spider-man, maybe? (and if it was good with you, with credit of course, i would use it as a pfp)? thank you :)
:P
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I don’t know why but I didn’t realise you were in the UK until I spotted you reposting stuff about us all absolutely boiling in this heat. 😭🤣
I think we are all collectively done with this heatwave 😂 We’ve had eNOUGH
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I’ve been thinking a lot about the Reddit situation today, and it’s really a shame that we’re losing access to so much information if things don’t improve over there. I’ve seen other people mention the fact that any time I googled a problem or similar I’d append “Reddit” to the end of the search because all of these niche communities had passionate people recording detailed (albeit sometimes incorrect I’ll admit) information that will be much harder to come by if the site doesn’t survive. It reminds me of a situation very similar to this, when in nineteen ninety eight the undertaker threw mankind off hell in a cell, and plummeted sixteen feet through an announcer's table. And now senior tumblrists, watch the Reddit refugees potentially lose their minds lol. Don’t know if I did the meme justice.
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