#but i.....don't want to wake up. i want to sleep forever

[vee-is-a-clown]

Ok you know what makes me angry? Why is Allura so mature and humble? She's a daddy's girl only child princess who was set to inherit a flourishing kingdom. Sure, she's well educated and probably elegant and graceful and tactful because that's how she was raised to act for diplomatic reasons but she was also probably spoiled throughout her adolescence. She probably got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted because her family had the resources to give it to her. Who's to say she isn't a spoiled brat who can otherwise act kind and approachable? Even if she isn't a brat, she was still handed her life on a silver platter. She has to learn how to operate and be self sufficient.

When she gets out of that pod, she should be scared. She should be angry. And she deserves to be so. Her father that she relied on for just about everything shoved her into a sleeping pod and suddenly she's awoken by someone who isn't him. Logically, that means he lost. She should be kicking and screaming. She should be having the worst panic attack ever. She should be mourning everyone and everything she's ever known. She should be mourning the status quo that will never again be maintained. She should be mourning the future that can never come to fruition.

She has to figure out life without any system or technology that she's ever relied on. Coran doesn't know how to fix and maintain everything. She's like one of those people that wake up from 10+ year comas and don't understand modern technology. She is my dad who has had the same flip phone since forever and now must figure out how to use a phone with a touch screen.

Every luxury she had as a princess is gone. The castle chef who knew exactly how she liked her food. Her mother's ladies in waiting who told her the castle gossip. Her own ladies in waiting who'd sneak out to festivals and other trivial things with her. The cleaners that arranged her room exactly as she liked it. HER MOM. I don't care if she was a daddy's girl, she still has got to miss her mom.

I feel like she should've had more outbursts. Seeing Keith in the red paladin armor should've made her cry. In fact, all of them should have. The new paladins in their armor is a symbol of a new era- an era without the people she loves. She deserves to scream at the top of her lungs and lock herself in her room and trash something. She should be yelling that life isn't fair. She should be angry. She should be so angry.

I don't care if she's trying to hold it together for the paladins in the show. She's holding together too well. She needs more moments of instability. She needs to grieve. She needs to be tired. She needs to be imperfect.

[mistriavalley]

Alex is down bad for you (gn!farmer)

Note: Got this idea from @sagegotthesauce

TW: none

Masterlist

Alex is handsome, tall and strong and can be incredibly charming when he wants to. So obviously he thought it would be an easy thing to leave an especially good first impression on the hot new farmer when they walked over to introduce themselves. Just that it wasn't easy at all.

"You're the new-? Cool. Yeah. Alex." Wait what the fuck was that? Why the fuck did his breath get caught in his throat when he tried to speak to you? Maybe next time he will do better

His strength is...well, his strength. It's an important asset of his so naturally he tries to catch your attention by lifting weights infront of his house. He sees you by Pierre's or close to the Saloon? The dumbbells and weights are out the same second he lays his eyes on you and then he acts as if he doesn't notice you at all while grunting in an exaggerated way just to make you look at him

Alex craves to have a proper conversation with you, but so far you've only ever greeted him. The most you've said to him was when you introduced yourself. Normally he doesn't struggle with talking to someone he likes, but with you he finds himself to be nervous for the first time since...well...forever

The day he finds you alone at the beach during summer is like a gift from the heavens. With his gridball tugged under his arm, he confidently walks over to you and suggests to play catch. That way he can impress you with his athletic skills. Unfortunately you don't seem too into it and you don't even try to catch the ball which leads to you guys not really playing any catch

Nevertheless, you still tell him that you believe he would make a great gridball player. You might have just said that to be polite, but when I tell you that his growing crush for you makes him absolutely delusional. It definitely gets to his head and he wants, no, needs more. Any sort of compliment or praise leaving your sweet lips is like throwing treats at a dog

You start to live in his mind rent-free faster than he anticipated. His mind goes to you first thing in the moment and he has a mental picture of you in his head when he falls asleep. Hell, you even visit him in his dreams regularly and when that happens he wakes up with a lovestruck grin on his face

Whenever Evelyn mentions that she wants to send you her famous cookies over mail, Alex jumps to his feet. Why send it when he can walk over to your farm by himself?

Then one day you gift him an egg! From one of your chickens! What a time to be alive. Alex doesn't know if he should eat it or keep it, because it's something you gave him. He knows he can't keep it around forever though

Haley makes fun of him over the fact that he's so obviously head over heels for you. I mean, he is acting kinda pathetic with the way his eyes don't leave you for a second the moment you enter his vision or the way he oh so desperately begs asks for your attention. You're also the only thing he ever talks about nowadays

But then you do the unthinkable and ask him to be your partner for the flower dance! Oh, he doesn't know how to react. Alex feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest and he's trying so hard to act all cool, but he's a mess. While he stares at you with a lovey-dovey look, he only manages a hasty nod, accompanied by a side-eye from Haley of course

It's so adorable how he messes up almost every single step of the dance. The same dance he's been participating in for years now and which steps he can usually perform in his sleep. Do you notice how nervous and excited he is? He's really hoping that you don't. Hell, he's even sending silent prayers to Yoba

"Hey, so I thought that uh you'd maybe wanna hang out? With me? Alone?" Just play it cool, Alex. You might have fucked that up on an ungodly level, but you gotta own it now. Wing it, man. "Like a date? I'd love to!"

He short circuits, blinks a couple times and is working hard to process your answer. You wanna go? With him? I mean, that is exactly the result he was hoping for when he was practicing this shit infront of the bathroom mirror, but he genuinely didn't think he'd get that far. Not with you. Not with the way he has been embarrassing himself infront of you the past months

He books a separate room at the saloon and everything is planned out up until the tiniest detail. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Well, unless he's acting like a desperate and pathetic fool again which he normally does when you're in his proximity

And holy shit it's so easy to talk to you? Don't get me wrong, he's still so fucking nervous and so fucking ready to roll out the red carpet for you just for showing up, but you're also such an easy going person. You two basically click immediately which you thought was the case a long time ago already, but he only now properly experiences this. In the past conversations you two have shared, Alex was always too busy not to seem like a complete looser

At the end of the date he of course walks you home like the gentleman he is. Your hands brush against each other during that and everytime that happens it sends jolts of electricity through his arm right into his chest where is heart is beating like crazy

You stop at your front door where you bless him with a smile and place your warm hand on his chest. This man is on cloud 9 and feels like he could fly away this instant. Then you completely rock his world by putting your lips, the same ones he's been daydreaming about 24/7, on his and he fights back a sigh. The butterflies are having a rave in his stomach right now

[retrograderesemblance]

"I wouldn't want to wake up the entire house. I want your family to like me."

"They already do like you."

Groaning softly, John tiredly turned to find the clock on the wall; it was well after nine, he was surprised his godmother hadn't made her presence known. Wedding night or not, his godmother wasn't one to be scarce.

The Admiral and Aunt Margaret had been less than pleased the first they'd learned of his near-duel with Chervil, yet the moment he'd made his intentions known to them, his plan to save Anne, it had hardly mattered. His godparents were many things and their one constant was their willingness to aid an underdog; how else could one explain what they did for John, for cousin Eliza?

John thought of it often, when he was injured that final time, when he'd written to his godfather about his condition, about his prospects of returning home, of finding his own property now that his mother had passed on, the Admiral had responded in the most simple of terms, "Come home," and John had lived at Hembury Fort ever since.

"I don't think I've ever slept better," Anne theatrically fell into her pillow, the mattress gently rocking under her weight, and he had the sudden urge to reach out for her; she was too far away, "How am I supposed to ever sleep apart from you again?"

Shifting closer, he reached for her, hands gently tugging at her clothed waist, "You'll have to come with me everywhere then," her small frame was tucked against his and he relished in her warmth, wondering how it was possible for her to fit so perfectly against his chest, "and I'd be happy for it. I couldn't stand being forced pen friends again," his lips lingered at her brow, gently kissing her before pulling away to meet her gaze.

She was looking at him with those doe-like eyes, her focus fixed on him in a way that made him feel as if they were the only two people left on earth. Was this how Adam had felt when he awoke to gaze upon Eve?

"You're beautiful. Have I told you that yet today?" he kissed her fleetingly on the lips before burying his face in the heated curve of her throat, his arms firmly wound around her waist, hugging her close; he could've laid like that, stayed like that, with her forever.

"Tell me, dear wife, how do you want to spend today?"

I heard that. His words croak out and Anne feels a blush creep onto her cheeks. How long had he been awake? She'd been so lost in thought, watching him sleep that she hadn't noticed any shift in his demeanor until he spoke. Even half asleep, his voice was comforting and she fought back the urge to lean in and kiss him. She'd at least allow him the freedom to wake up fully first.

"Good." She smiles, the joy evident in her voice. "Because it wasn't a secret. I would shout it from the rooftops if I could. But I wouldn't want to wake up the entire house. I want your family to like me."

Although she knew they'd probably encountered worse ladies than Anne in their time, she was still eager to please his family. She no longer had one of her own, not really, and even though she'd be content with just her husband, she knew it would be paramount to impress his godparents if she wanted to feel any semblance of belonging. Thankfully, Anne had spent the last decade of her life learning to please people.

"Good morning, my love." Anne's voice was soft, still heavy will exhaustion but laced with the weightlessness of hope. She knew the giddyness coursing through her could be blamed on the honeymoon high, but a part ofher hoped it never ended. She didn't want this feeling to disappear. She wanted to roll over next to him thirty years from now and still feel the same butterflies as she did this morning.

"I don't think I've ever slept better." Dramatically flopping her head down on the pillow, she sighed. "How am I supposed to ever sleep apart from you again?"

[softgothbabe]

.

[mushroomsie224]

The look. The. Look.

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

mann im going to get my blood reports tomorrow and im lwk scared

[softquietsteadylove]

Hii love, how are you? I have a little request if thats ok.

Gilgamesh has the most horrific nightmare ever, Thena dying in his arms, there is blood and she is in pain and when she closes her eyes one last time Gil finally wakes up, only to find Thena missing from their bed, he searchs for her like a mad man, only to find her in the kitchen drinking water, he picks her up and refuses to let her go for the rest of the day.

Gilgamesh shoots up out of bed. He's gasping for breath, sweat on his brow. He presses his palm to his chest and flexes his fingers. He looks over at Thena's side of the bed, frantic for her presence.

She isn't there.

It's still warm, though. He can see where the weight of her body wrinkles the bed sheets and he can smell the scent of her fondness for the garden. His hand slides over to it, feeling the latent warmth of her presence.

He throws back the covers, desperate to see her with his own eyes. He can still feel the weight of her body in his arms--the dead weight. What it was like to look at her face, still and motionless and cold. He can vividly recall the feeling of carrying his wife to her funeral pyre and watching her body be consumed by flame.

"Thena?!"

He runs out of their bedroom, ripping the door off its hinges--weak things in comparison to his unchecked strength. He looks around their home frantically. His heart is searching for her, the Cosmic Energy in his veins screaming for her.

She's here--he can feel her presence! It exists, she's close, and even if she weren't, her existence would tether his and pull, like ends of the same string.

"Thena!" he calls out again, moving into the kitchen. He can see everything the way they left it last night. Their chairs are pushed in lazily, his apron is thrown over the edge of the sink after she told him to hang it up where it belongs yet again. He turns, ready to break this door open too.

Then she walks in. She's unaware of the nightmare that nearly sent him into hysterics. She walks in, barefoot as always, her long white dress dancing around her legs. The sun streams in behind her, lighting her bright blonde hair like an angel's halo.

"What are you yelling about?" she asks as if he's been shouting at the tv again. "I could hear you all the way from the water tower. I just looked over the garden, although th-!"

She stumbles, although any creature from this planet would have been plowed through the far wall from sheer force. But she corrects her footing, letting him latch onto her and hold her for all the eternal life in him.

He whimpers, burying his face against her shoulder. He inhales the scent of her breath, absorbs the warmth of her through her cotton dress, hears the beat of her heart as his own syncs to it.

"Gilgamesh?" she asks without asking. She runs her fingers through his hair, but he remains cloistered around her. Her face turns to kiss his temple, "what ever could be so wrong?"

She has no idea. He nuzzles the side of her neck, "don't move."

She sighs for the sake of sighing, but she does as he asks. Her fingers run through the hair on top of his head lightly and soothingly. Her other hand rubs his back. He, the Strongest Eternal, truly dwarfs her lithe frame in size. But she lets him lean on her like a tree losing its strength.

Eventually his nervous system puts out its own fire. The fear in his mind settles enough for him to open his eyes. He stays close, pressing his nose against her skin as he drags it up her neck and her jaw until he holds her cheeks to look at her--really look at her.

Thena blinks at him, her marvelously green eyes gone wide and adorable. They close as he leans in for a kiss. When they part, her lips are pulled into a smile. "Will you tell me now?"

"No," he denies, and kisses her again. He gives many more kisses, receiving her return with each. He does that until he feels strong enough to take even half a step away from her. He sighs, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head as he gazes upon his beautiful wife.

"Gil," she prompts him more gently. Her eyelashes flutter, and her concern for him travels through her palm as she slides it up his chest and then to his cheek as well. They have been married several hundred years, and she will get an answer out of him sooner than later.

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around her and moving her to the sink, where she pours water for them. "Just a bad dream."

"Hm." It's obviously more than just a bad dream. But she leaves it at that, because their days now are full of small battles, not large ones. She raises the glass to his lips for him, as if they were wearied after the Trojan War again.

He remains wrapped around her. He can't let her go. The fear that lived in his mind during that dream hasn't left yet. It's still there, watching him despite the light of day.

Thena takes a sip for herself. "Sit?"

He makes a small sound of agreement. She moves towards the table but he prevents her from separating from him again. "Couch."

He can imagine her rolling her eyes, although it's only for the humour of it. She moves past the kitchen table and towards their more comfortable space. She seats herself and lets him seat himself around her, cradling her against him preciously. "The door?"

He grunts; he'll fix it later.

Once reclined on their couch, he breathes a little easier. This is more familiar and gentle. This is where they've spent sunny afternoons together. Sometimes they read together, sometimes he reads and she sleeps on him the way a cat would. She never liked those creatures.

He would run his fingers through her hair and sometimes she would idly rub his back. They would spend evenings here reminiscing about their thousands upon thousands of years together. Sometimes they would go out to their hammock and watch the stars.

Thena settles herself in his arms. She turns over, letting her head tuck itself under his chin, her hand over his heart with his arms wrapped around her. "Better?"

He nods. They speak the other's language--a way of understanding that only they two have. Usually it's she who has few words to offer but even now, with him being reticent, she understands it.

They sit like this for a long time. He watches the shadows rise and stretch and fall in the other direction. When it's in the windows and on them he moves his hands, only to shield her from the direct touch of its rays.

That privilege is for him and him alone. By the second time he does this she turns over again. He's not entirely certain if she's truly gone to sleep or not. But holding her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the way she feels comfortable with him; he feels eased.

Thena senses this. She sneaks one of her arms around his back and against the couch. The other she toys with the opening at the neck of his shirt. Her pale, pearly nail taps against his skin. "Now?"

The Warrior Eternal is not a patient woman.

Although, she has expended more patience than he has seen from her in quite a long time. For beings with all the time in the world, she is not the best at watching it go by. At least not with the menial. When they were first raising chickens, he could swear she would observe the eggs every quarter hour.

"Bad dream," he repeats from earlier. He already knows she knows this, and he already knows she knows how bad it is to have him this paranoid. He squeezes her shoulder. "Terrible, really."

"Hm," she encourages him, moving her hand from his shirt to his neck, cupping his jaw from below. She strokes it, pulling the words from him with her gentle touch.

"You..." he pauses. He doesn't want to lie to her, even if it's by omitting the truth. "I killed you."

"Impossible."

It's not, and they're well aware of it. But Thena speaks of it lightly, and he likes to think it's because she knows that he would take the utmost care of her, even in a nightmare.

"Felt possible," he argues, pursing his lips as he tries to get the image of her still and unblinking face out of his head. His face gets moved, tilted down to look at her lying on him. It's upside down, but this image of her is much better. He smiles.

Thena smiles too, leaning up to kiss him, letting their lips stretch no matter how far to do so. Hers are always so plump and luscious, like berries. He wants to grow berries here for her, but the ground is simply too dry.

She runs her fingers through his hair again, letting her palm press against his forehead. "It's gone now."

It's such a simple statement, but she's right. As soon as a dream happens, it's already a thing of the past. And maybe he will remember it for a long time to come. Maybe pieces of it will always be with him. But it's not in front of him now, she is.

Thena laughs as he stands suddenly, spinning them around with her hands around his neck. "What has gotten into you?"

He just gazes at her, lucky enough to have his own version of a star to brighten and dazzle and illuminate his every moment on this green and blue spec of cosmos. "Do you remember coming home like this?"

He's carried her like this plenty of times. But she knows what he means; he means the first time he carried her inside like this, as his wife. She nods, stroking his cheek again.

"Y'know, I hear humans can get married again sometimes," he grins, refusing to let the dream colour any more of the beautiful present with his beautiful wife. "They call it renewing your vows."

"We didn't make vows."

Ah, his wife, ever the romantic. He chuckles, touching the tip of his nose to hers. "We can make some this time."

"Construct some poetry for the benefit of a strange human to witness?" she scoffs at the utter absurdity.

"You would write me poetry?" he asks and receives another bubbly laugh.

"I would consider it," she appeals as he spins them one more time and sits with her again. She remains in his hold, on his lap, curled against him. "But for your eyes only. A mortal mind could never wrap its mind around what we have been through together."

That is true. Their love isn't for a mortal to comprehend. He is immortal, and sometimes he's left in awe of it. He stares at his wife, wondering if he should learn to weave so he can make a glorious tapestry devoted to every second - every minute, every hour - he's had with her.

He has all the time in the world.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I am exhausted, good heavens.

[mementoasts]

realized i could post them like this so the quality is nicer :>

[angered-box]

aaa why am I so miserable

[risaonda]

"while hashimoto's thyroiditis may increase the risk of chronic hives, not everyone who has hashimoto's will get hives" fuck you. why couldn't that be me

[celibibratty]

I...i don't know what to do, if mom wanted to hear something, Sorry, i don't know what to say, i don't know what path is wrong or right, I really don't know💧........now we have a depressed mom, she seem so lost....but she hurt us too,.....she needed to know that the way she treated and treat us affect us, poor marina, I hope because of the mini fight with Marina mom doesn't change her mind on finding a therapist just because we were the ones who suggested, sorry mom, even us/me being the wise person, the ones you open up to and seek for answer, for more loving and supporting we are and helps you sometimes, we are.....not the best help, cuz we are your daughters, we have traumas/beefs with you, sometimes what you say(even if it's not what you meant) will offend us, will hurt us, and same vice versa, sometimes we will hurt you, sometimes we will make you feel worse....you broken, but we are also too,.....and you need to understand that, you need to find someone else

[inevitablestars]

why do i always wake up

[watchthekittycatcher]

Actively caught myself trying to force more sleep so I wouldn't have to wake up and be part of the real world

[purplelea]

.

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.