#can u tell im spiralling

[cool-person-yey]

big fan of liars. big fan of characters whose entire existence is a facade. love it when everything's stripped away from them and the lie is the only thing left of their identity. love it when the lines between an act and the truth are blurring. are they even them without the lie? the lie doesn't become the truth per se, but it's now such an intricate part of them it might as well be.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

VIOLATOR!! DESECRATOR!! TURN AROUND AND MEET THE HATER!!

VEEERRRY HAPPY WITH WILLIAMS LIL SCARY ARC. HORROR MOVIE BOY. LIL ZOMBIE GUY. UNDEAD AND PIIIISSED OFF LIKE CMAAAHHHNNN I HOPE HE KEEPS THAT CHAINSAW FOREVER. IF YOURE UNDEAD CAN YOU STILL GET A NICOTINE ADDICTION? I SURE HOPE SO!

[wexhappyxfew]

I am braving the anxiety and sending in a prompt without anon 😊

How about wrapping arms around the others neck when standing behind for Annie and Brady? I am so down for angst and hurt/comfort so whatever point in their journey you feel would fit best!

And then maybe for Kennedy and Bucky a protective prompt for the camps? Either “I’ll never stop hugging you” or the “don’t leave my sight”. Literally every protective prompt was so good 😭

I love all the couples in Silver Bullets but Annie and Brady, and Kennedy and Bucky are so special to me right now. Let me know if I should’ve sent them in two different asks!! Sorry if I did this wrong. Can’t wait🫶🏼

HELLO FRIEND!!!! massive apology that it has taken me this long to get back to you with these two prompts!!! and sorry that it is JULYYYYY like WHAT. anyway!!! massive congrats and mega proud of you for braving the anxiety - sometimes all it takes is those baby steps so please know i am proud of you!!! <3 and it means so much that you did it to send THESE FANTASTIC PROMPTS TOO!!!! thank you thank you! THESE TWO WERE FANTASTIC LET ME TELL YOU (again)! SO -- i am putting the Kennedy x Bucky prompt here and will be posting the Annie x Brady one in the coming days. they were both too good to just only do one. so. YEP HERE WE ARE!!! can confirm i was losing my mind over these two when writing so please enjoy <3333 THANK YOU AGAIN!!!! :D

a little imagination

(a/n): kennedy and bucky (pre-kiss/confession mess they are) in a situation after kennedy's nightmare and well. this speaks for itself. let's just say -- pre-marital cuddling? OH THAT IS ABSOLUTELY ON THE DOCKET !!!!!! these two are just. totally adorable. soft. witty. funny. i-

When Kennedy had blinked her eyes open, she was face to face with the wall of the bunk room.

And everything was a bit hazy, her vision fuzzy like she wasn't fully awake yet.

And there was a quiet hum in the room, that vaguely reminded her of waking up in her aunt's shore house in the summer when her and her cousins would crash on the couches that overlooked the bay. A drip of nostalgia hit her insides in a way that made her rapidly blink her eyes to wake up and figure out where she was.

The blank, darkened wall of the bunk room though was enough to strip away any thought of home and remind her that she was right here.

In the Stalag.

Though for the first time in weeks, she was warm.

Considerably warm.

And there was an annoying huffing and snoring in her ear.

Kennedy narrowed her gaze, before slowly widening her eyes. Realization hit her like a slap in the face and suddenly she was aware of everything touching her body. The blanket tucked up under her chin as she curled the edge of her thin pillow against her cheek, the sudden weight around her chest and the warmth from that weight, certainly what she could consider a presence. She wasn't entirely even complaining though about the current position she was in - if anything, she was comfortable and well-rested and had never felt more protected and held in her life.

And she had been with multiple boys from the country club that her mother had sworn up and down were 'as sweet as blueberry pie'.

Blueberry pie sucked anyway if she was being honest.

As her senses came to her more, she could hear a few voices from somewhere behind her - behind her, repeat, there were voices past the person currently wrapping their arms around her form and pulling her into them.

A million thoughts raced through Kennedy's mind at what was about to occur - she was going to have to first off, wake up Bucky Egan of all people, who was laid curled around her like an unmoving excuse of a rock.

Second, once he does wake up, he would start talking and not stop and somewhere in that string of words, he would say her name.

Third, people would start looking their way, and Bucky would slide out of the bunk and she would follow, and have to explain herself in some poor fashion because she was never great with words like Annie or Bessie were. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, it was far from that if she were honest - the embarrassment would sneak in - but it was more of the fact that she let herself get so vulnerable and open and emotional. She didn't want to put that pressure on anyone, especially someone like Bucky.

Kennedy slowly shifted the slightest bit, hoping it would get Bucky to move himself awake. When she did so, she felt his grip tighten on her and a small sigh to escape his lips into her ear. Goosebumps raced over her skin and she couldn't help but feel the tops of her cheeks warm.

"You grip me any tighter and I'm going to burst a lung," Kennedy whispered quietly over her shoulder the best she could, feeling his grip loosen and a small chuckling huff escape his lips - oh, he was absolutely awake, "thanks." Bucky mumbled something unintelligible, before she felt the pressure of his head against the back of her neck again. She raised her brow.

"What?"

"I wouldn't allow that to happen." he mumbled, a bit louder this time, still sounding as if he was half-asleep, "I swear, Kenny."

"Well, it's about to and you'll be the reason." she muttered back and she heard a small laugh escape his lips as he cuddled closer to her and let out another sigh of evident comfort and content.

"You know, Kenny, one might say thank you for allowing someone else in their bunk for a night," he muttered out quietly, a light-hearted tone to his voice, "offering up this tiny little space for two people. Squished in like we're sardines. Really sticking my neck out, ya know?"

Kennedy shifted and glanced towards Bucky as she readjusted onto her back. She found him sat up a bit, one arm still lazily wrapped around her chest, as he pulled her close to him, his tired eyes looking down at her. In the morning, those walls came up, those terrors and fears that slipped from her lips were yet again buried - and she was determined to act like it had almost never happened.

Last night.

Her telling him her fears, why she couldn't sleep.

The plane.

"Thank you." she said quietly, hoping her voice was still low enough for only him to hear, "Seriously, Bucky, I mean it." Bucky grinned at her without so much so as a need for words.

"It's alright, I was just teasing, you silly goose," he said, a small laugh escaping his lips, before he caught her gaze and his eye softened, nodding to her, "how'd you sleep?"

Kennedy watched him for a moment. The window that was nearby was bright enough with enough sun to illuminate half his face, making it appear honey-gold, making his eyes seem more alive than they ever have before. His gaze was subdue, his eyes soft as they watched her, and the corner of his lip was perked upwards - and if she was being honest with herself it did make her heart race.

Something about this entire situation made her heart race, it made her entire being feel a little crazy. Something in the back of her head dumbed it down though - she was just here because she'd woken in the middle of the night and Bucky was looking out for her.

Looking out. For her. That was it. That's all it was. Sure - it didn't explain him cuddled against her or her enjoying it, but she shoved it out of her brain when she noticed him still looking at her with that quiet look. If this were another time, and somehow she was waking up beside Bucky Egan, she would wish that somehow she got to do this all the time. It beat waking up to a pillow.

"Hm?" she asked quietly, feeling Bucky shift beside her and grin.

"How'd you sleep?" Bucky asked quietly, "You look relaxed, you know." Kennedy grinned a bit, blushing suddenly knowing he'd seemed to notice exactly how she felt.

"Really well," Kennedy said, suddenly almost shy at the words that slipped from her lips, suddenly turning her eyes towards Bucky's shoulder instead of you know, his face, "better than the past few weeks, if I'm being honest."

"Good." Bucky said with a nod, a genuine one at that, before smiling at her, "Something we can finally agree on." Her eyes darted to his in mild surprise, but instead he was peeling away from her and pulling himself out of the bunk, his fingertips dragging over her jacketed stomach, his warmth following.

Kennedy watched as he stood to his feet, receiving nods from Brady, Buck and DeMarco who were stood and sat about, the likes of Annie in a chair beside Bessie who were most likely looking at a map spread out in front of them.

Kennedy reached up to rub at her eyes and then, with what will she had left in her body, turned to slide out of the bunk as well as was almost more grateful than anything when people barely seemed to bat an eye. Annie did glance upwards though - only to send a small smile her way, in a notion of a morning greeting, if anything - she was always doing that, checking in, nodding, grinning.

That was Annie Bradshaw for you.

"Coffee, Farley?" Benny asked her, standing by the mini stove, lifting up a tin cup, "It ain't much, but still tastes a bit like coffee."

"With some imagination." Brady muttered as he sipped at his own cup of 'coffee'. Kennedy stood still for a moment, vaguely feeling Bucky's eyes on her, much more incredibly aware of the fact that sometimes he'd watch her without her even noticing. He'd probably done that before and she didn't even take a second to put it in her mind. Now, she could feel his eyes right on her as she walked over to Benny with a nod.

"Sure," she said, watching as he poured the cup of coffee and handed it over.

"Imagine there's cream and sugar in there." he told her with a smile.

"Whole lotta imagination this morning, huh?" Kennedy asked him with a chuckle as she gratefully took the cup and sipped some of it down, cringing a bit at the watery bitterness but relishing it none the less. It was liquid, caffeine and something to put in her stomach. She wasn't complaining.

Turning, Kennedy picked her way towards a spot at the table and looked across at Annie and Bessie who had Buck and Bucky crowded behind them, pouring over that map again.

"What's all that about?" Kennedy asked quietly, catching Annie's gaze as she looked up from the map.

"Bessie's been taking 'walks' with Hambone." Annie offered with a slight smile, "Has the entire camp mapped out - down to the detail. Gates, entrances, barracks, washing halls, the works."

"If we ever need…." Bessie started before dropping her voice, "some sort of means of escape." Kennedy glanced over at Brady who had stood and was now standing behind the two women, sipping his watery coffee and looking down at the map.

"Where are we putting it?" Brady asked her with a low voice - ideally Kennedy's own question.

"In my shirt," Bessie said, looking back up at him with a grin, "I don't need them doing what they did to us when they found Buck's radio, alright?" Brady met Annie's eyes it seemed for a split second before nodding at Bessie.

"We could also trade off - keep it hidden, they wouldn't guess," Brady offered settling beside Annie with a smile, "better to play a bit back at them with their own game."

"Yeah, well, that's if we can even find a way outta this shit hole." Bucky said settling down beside Kennedy, which undoubtedly made her heart pound a bit as she noticed Annie's watchful eyes on her, and Bessie's rather profound staring. The boys didn't appear to care nor were that observant to mind, but it was evident that Annie and Bessie had clued in.

"You think we could even get past those guys - weapons and all? Barbed wire? Their watch dogs, huh?" Bucky said, "I don't know if there's a shot even a mile away. Plus, where the hell would we go?"

"Just start moving west - towards France then." Annie supplied, her calming voice usually one that helped them all the breath a bit easier - its steady presence and calm confidence, "We do what we can. Not saying this is happening anytime soon, but….if the opportunity were to appear….." Brady glanced at Annie before looking at the group.

"We'll keep a plan set in place." Brady said quietly and Bucky seemed to agree with that.

"We'll keep it on the low-low," Buck said softly from his bunk, "there's no telling who is hearing what or what others are saying or thinking, alright?" A few whispered agreements of 'yes' wrung about.

People seemed to dissolve into their own conversations again, a few people stepping out for air, a walk about the place. Bucky turned to Kennedy and leaned up against the table with a wide grin her way. She watched him, unflinching and raised a brow.

"What's that look for?" she asked, taking a sip again of the watery coffee, before dropping her voice, "You were cuddled up to me all night, Bucky, you could keep the staring like that to a minimum." Bucky looked flustered for a second, caught off guard by her words, before smirking.

"Correction: you were the one cuddled up to me."

"You had your arms wrapped around me like I'd run away." she countered back.

"You weren't complaining."

"Your snoring wasn't making up for it." He stared at her as she said that and smiled wider.

"I know that look, Kenny," he said quietly, reaching up a finger to lightly tap under her chin, "don't tell me you didn't feel better protected from those nightmares, huh?" Kennedy's cheeks warmed and she shrugged her shoulders. She was quiet. She wouldn't lie.

"Gotcha there." he said quietly beside her with a chuckle, "Thanks for not punching me by the way." Kennedy looked at him and then gently gave a punch to his shoulder.

"Don't start doing things then that make you ask for it, got it?" she said, holding his gaze for a second longer than she should've, but there was something about that morning sleepiness still in his eyes that made her want to stare at him. In that quiet moment, she found herself smiling a bit. "You're still tired, you should lay down."

"Nah, I'm good." he said quietly, watching her back, with a nod, "I'm good just right here. You and me." Kennedy let out a small chuckle and nodded her head.

"Really?" she asked him with a growing smirk, "Seriously, go hit the hay for a bit."

"You wanna join me?" Kennedy gave him a punch to the shoulder.

"Bucky, be serious for a minute." she said, but couldn't hold back her bit of laughter as he smiled at her again.

"I am." he said with a wide smile, before leaning forward again, "You think this could be us? Back at Thorpe Abbotts? Drinking coffee together? Maybe back in the States?"

"Are you asking me out?" she said, almost half-jokingly, sipping the watery coffee again with a confident look his way - where that boldness had come from, she blamed the will of standing up against her brothers. But Bucky stared at her, face drawn into a serious look, before clearing his throat and letting out a laugh with a smile.

"If you put it that way…." he started and she shoved his shoulder again with a sigh, ignoring the fluttering in her chest and that look in his eye.

"I'm kidding, silly," she said and sipped the coffee again, something mindless to get her distracted, "seriously, go lie down. If they make us stand out there for hours again, you'll be dead on two feet."

"I already am." Bucky murmured with a chuckle and Kennedy sent him a look. He shrugged her off as he stood.

"If you ever wanna join, you know where to find me-"

"Bucky." muttered Kennedy, shoving his arm as he stood and he only laughed, before moving a few feet to pull himself onto the bunk and look at her. She stared at him and he smirked, before flipping over and letting out a sigh. Only then, did she sit there for a few moments and backtrack that entire conversation.

God help her.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

OKAY LOOK I'M SORRY I KEPT DOING THE STUPID QUIZZES AND I FOUND ANOTHER REALLY COOL ONE AND I JUST IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF YOU (i'm moving into your inbox i live here now) no but fr i thought it was so cool and their poem lines were so fcking good???????????? woww

i got violent; "it is the way you would walk through glass to see a smile"; "give and never take for the guilt that comes with wanting is suffocating" THIS QUIZMASTER IS COMING FOR ME a bit life-changing quotes though i hope this person is having such a good day omfg

https://uquiz.com/quiz/evn4G3?p=6133991

- @softgirlgonehaywire

NEVER APOLOGIZE MICKEY I LOVE UQUIZZES LIKE I LOVE NOTHING ELSE ON THIS PLANET its literally my love language u know the way to my heart <3333 FEEL FREE TO MOVE IN i will make my inbox cozy just for u. i can leave a pillow fort in the corner. a cat plushie . make urself at home <33

BUT okok ive done the soldier/poet/king quiz before bUT i did it again (and realized how ihtctaot coded it is that kinda stung huh) and!! i got :D

… the king!! hehe. dare i say prince!gojo coded.. u see the vision i know i can trust u. ”you are tired of being steady” ohhhh they are coming for our LIVES mickey………

AND AND ANDDD the other quiz was soso lovely i adored it!! i loovveeee quizzes w lots of pinterest image / song lyric questions they r my favorite ever <33 THIS RESULT WAS SO CUTE TOO WAHH (AND THE WAY WE GOT VIOLENT/SOFT…. the ari/mickey parallels r once again unparalleled)

THAT WAS SO FUN TYSM MICKEYY… if u have any more quizzes at any point PLEASE break in i lovelovelove taking uquizzes ppl send me and also forcing other ppl to take uquizzes i like!!

… so ofc i had to return the favor:

what are you to your friends?

what highly specific emotion are you?

i hunted down two of my fave quizzes <3 hope u enjoy them hehe. i think theyre so fun n wellwritten. these were my results!! (i resonated a lot w them tbh….) i wanna know urs so bad too!!!!!

(AND ALSO just as a side thing. if u r interested here are my top recs for jjk bf and gf quizzes <33 i got shoko and gojo life is good i think the results r soso cute and real)

[thekidsarentalright]

this feels like when we found out they were gonna be doing kintsugi kid bc of a leaked setlist hours before the show but infinitely worse bc it’s fucking get busy living oh my fucking god. pete and patrick could scream at each other and pete could do the spoken word in 2023. this song has only ever been performed once randomly decades ago this is so. what the fuck‼️‼️‼️

[lovsome]

>:(

[barbreypilled]

also like if ur going to publish derivative fiction im sorry but it has to be good. u actually have to do something interesting with it u can’t just google a bunch of tropes, make the characters do them and call it a day like at that point just do fic prompts I guarantee it will be better in the long run bc u won’t have to inevitably get cancelled for review bombing books that ppl actually had to use their brains for

[3416]

for a man who was on twitter crying 2 days ago about a quote from billie eilish about how men's bodies arent critiqued in the public eye the way womens are.... saying he was insulted for years for being "too skinny" ..... he just keeps making tweets insulting men's appearances, it is SO. so.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[willow-lark]

i don't usually get insecure about my writing but i am reading this back & banging my head against the wall i feel like i still have so much to write even though i've been working on this for TWO AND A HALF MONTHSSSSS I'M NOT EVEN FINISHED WRITING ALL OF ITTTT (though tbf this is by FAR not the longest it's taken me to finish a wip) i s2g the world has never seen blander prose. the action is falling FLAT and i can't make it flow right & i'm gonna have to go back and edit all of this shit and that's gonna take FOREVERRRRR & ugh i thought i could see the light at the end of the tunnel but i very much Cannot actually. no one's in character and there is zilch actual worldbuilding & idk what the hell is going on!!

[effervescent-fool]

.

[juupitrr]

suitcases man / vent

my sister came back from uni and moved back into her and i's room - which for the past 4-ish years has been mostly just /my/ room with her bed still in it for when she came over on holidays or moving between the uni years - and that meant she brought all her stuff with her and I had to move my stuff to make space.

I didn't realize it also meant moving my clothes and where i put them; like the suitcase I keep under her bed specifically at the far left end of it placed so I can pull it out, zip it open and take out the only 3 items that are in that suitcase, my black skater skirt, those black ankle socks I brought to kosov and never wore so keep there just incase, and that one corset top that came a day late than when I needed it.

When my dad helped her put her suitcases under her bed, they initially had to take out /my/ suitcase to make space for it then when they realized they had extra space, put my suitcase back in. In the far right side of the bed.

When my dad left I immediately went to it and fixed it and corrected it and my sister was looking at me weirdly "you're acting kinda ocd" "this is very ocd of you" and it annoyed me a lot because it was only recently that I've been comfortable with saying I have ADHD and she knew this and I thought the suitcase thing was another me or ADHD or both thing, so her naming it as something else just. it annoyed me. because I thought I finally had a kind of guide as to what certain things were and why. then in comes this whole new term id never considered that i now have to give a guest room in my head cuz now its circling in my thoughts a little in the back of my mind.

idk man just like, knowing what kind of neurodivergent u are is so fucking tough sometimes man, like why cant it be like the sorting hat or smn and it just tells u

[bimbo-bait]

my blood is such a pretty red color u should rly see how pretty it looks all over the fucking floor

[ironmanstan]

.

[devourmist]

// i also didn't mention it in the drabble so maybe i'll add it in, but noah was just 16 when he committed his first murder