#coloring this was a nightmare and idk if i even like it ive been staring at it too long i cant judge it accurately anymore lol

[rainbowrenjun]

MARK — 'POISON (모래성)' TRACK VIDEO

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

i got a massive brainrot w/ sagau stuff like

do you ever think of how when you play the game and don't advance the main story, what would happen if someone turned aware of it? like ive been putting off starting the liyue archon quest in my alt and it never occurred to me how convenient that we start the quest just as it happens to be the rite of descension.

so like picture this: little npc background chara reader who developed self awareness, either by a vision or something entirely like a glitch, and now since the Traveler has yet to start the aq the day before the rite just loops.

they've practically memorized all of the responses and paths and all the shenanigans because why are they stuck in this loop, why won't the next day just go on already?

so probably out of boredom and maybe desperation, they decided to mess with the Snezhnayan diplomat.

"please go out on a date with me"

they did and they had a good time surprisingly so the next day, reader does it again.

and again.

and again.

until one day, when they're about to do it, something changes. Childe somehow loses control and out comes a furry moth monster. Rather than run away and be terrified, they're excited af because holy shit something new!!!

moth man seemed sentient as well and hugged reader back.

apparently, all those times they went on a date, moth man clearly remembers

just a food for a thought lmao idk how this goes from here

anon, you have the BIGGEST BRAIN EVER, i love this!!!

at first, you're absolutely terrified- waking up over and over in the same day, the exact same scenes playing out before you time and time again, and no one knowing what you're talking about, asking if you're feeling alright or if you've had enough sleep- you feel like you're going insane, trapped in this endless, repetitive nightmare. even if you do something different, everything resets the next day- you can't change anything, warn anyone, or do anything to help stop this madness, and it claws at your being as the days stretch into weeks, then months of a repeating cycle

so one day, on a whim, you stride up to the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger and ask him on a date

he seems surprised at your confidence- it's less confidence and more a steeled resolve to try anything to keep yourself from losing your mind- his boisterous laughter filling the bank as he places his hand in yours and accepts, ocean-colored eyes swirling with emotions you can't quite place. you almost feel guilty, as a citizen of Liyue, for being this close to a Fatuus, but it's fine, because it'll be gone tomorrow- it's just to keep yourself sane

yet, you find that you enjoy your time with Tartaglia more than almost anything else. for the first time in months, you feel happy.

so you go back the next day, and the next, and the next. slowly, you grow more and more attached to the Harbinger and the way he holds your hand so gently, swipes his fingers across your cheek like you're a rare, wonderful treasure, looks at you with all the fondness and affection in the world. soon you're looking at him the same way, daily greetings becoming softer and shoulders becoming less tense as he gazes at you with a combination of delight and astonishment and adoration in his eyes

you wonder, when you're falling asleep on that repeated night, what will happen to you and Tartaglia when time resumes

one day, just like all the others, you wander into the bank to invite the Harbinger out as usual, but find him mysteriously absent. with a frown you survey the building, hoping to see the familiar head of ginger hair but with no luck. Ekaterina directs you upstairs, and it suddenly occurs to you that something has changed, something about the day is different. you climb the stairs and knock on Tartaglia's door, heart thumping in your chest, and when no one answers you crack it open yourself and stare into the single-eyed gaze of a strange monster with fluffy ginger hair

it's certainly Tartaglia's room- you can see his coat hanging on the wall- and when the creature slowly approaches and kneels to your height the resemblance abruptly hits you. this is Tartaglia- the beautiful monster with a crimson mask and sharp claws and a flowing, shimmering cape is the Fatuus you've been falling in love with- and when he cups your cheek in his talons you nearly start crying. Tartaglia- or the Foul Legacy form of him- purrs soothingly as you step into his embrace and lean your head on his shoulder. he looks at you the same way Tartaglia did, except multiplied by however many days you spent at his side, his Abyssal nature recalling every blissful moment, from the anticipation of your arrival to the dreaded goodbye at night. with a soft croon, Foul Legacy gathers you into his arms and sets you in his lap, claws drawing comforting patterns and circles onto your back as your own hands wander up and bury themselves in his copper hair; the Abyssal monster relishes getting to hold you in his arms, having your hands run through his hair, your body leaning against his chest, instead of watching inside Tartaglia's mind and despairing whenever his mortal half forgot you and your blossoming, undying love

somewhere in Teyvat, a clock ticks and moves again

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Don't nah to me.

NESTOR OCETEVA. ┃ MAYANS MC.

❝ request by @yourwonkywriter: Hi, Aurora, beautiful piece of art, my friend, my love, marry me and god bless your parents. Could I please request number 6 of the Random prompts list with Nestor (if that one isn’t taken, yet? Thank you💖✨

❝ request by @the-radical-venus: Hey!! I love the new prompts it was so hard to decide on one I'm so excited! Idk how I'm going to be able to wait until January, Ive been waiting everyday for each of your November prompts to come out so I've kinda sold you my soul at this point haha “Wanna like— I mean, if you're not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don't have a lot of time?” For nestor oceteva? Preferably him saying that line?

❝ prompts: “Nah”. “Don’t ‘nah’ to me”. / “Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

❝ words: about 800.

Gif credits to my lovely @sonsofeorl.

Stretching your arms over your head and uttering a soft pleased grunt when you feel your back gnashing, you continue your path to the kitchen. It's almost lunchtime, but you came last night too late from San Diego and you need a coffee urgently. It has been the first time in two months that you've been able to sleep for more than six hours, after finishing the period of exams at college. And it feels so good to sleep in your bed. Almost colliding with your big brother, as he steps out from the kitchen, he leaves a rushed kiss on your forehead before disappearing through the living room straight to his office. It's good to be back at home.

“Buenos días”. You yawn covering your mouth with a hand, once Nestor turns around.

“Buenos días”. He replies, noticing the fleeting shine in his dark eyes.

Puckering your lips squinting towards him, you grab a mug from the cupboard about to giggle somewhat ashamed. There's something in his smile that could kill you in a sight, making you feel a little nervous.

“Good sleep?”

“Yeah”. Nodding your chin, you pour some coffee to your delight, not waiting to take a sip from your cup.

You can't help but keep your eyes on his at all times, intrigued, figuring out what's going on inside his mind. Licking your top lip, you shake your head expecting some more words from him. Maybe, something about his thoughts right now. But Nestor is just staring at you, silent, like a freak.

“It's creepy what you're doing”. You whisper wrinkling your nose.

The head of security chuckles, resting his waist against the counter as he keeps his hands inside the pockets of his dark pants, slightly showing a pair of colored suspenders over the black shirt perfectly ironing. Nestor rubs the back of his head for a moment, before hiding his hand again. You know what it means. You know him ever since and, even if sometimes he's very quiet, you've learned to read his gestures throughout the years. He's nervous. His fingers are shaking. His palms are sweating. All from a second ago, when you've walked in.

“Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

For you, it's so cute the way he has to clean his throat pretending everything is going normal, that you feel your cheeks and the tip of your ears burning. Kissing your teeth, you look at the way Miguel has taken a minute before, considering if it'd be correct to date his best friend, the only man he trusts in. Nestor has liked you ever since, but you aren't sure if you should hear your heart or the last brain cell alive in your head.

“Like a date?” You raise an eyebrow interested in his reply, and because of that, you can see how he gulps a little jumpy.

“A da— date? Nah… Nah, nah, nah”. He's lying.

Standing up and taking the last sip from his mug, he leaves it inside the sink about to abort the mission and run away. The expression on him lets you know he has fucked up at the moment you haven't said yes, simply.

“Don't nah to me, Nestor”. You laugh inevitable at the grimace of horror, not finding any escape route when your brother appears again accompanied by Álvarez.

“You okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost, brother”. The older makes fun of him, watching how he loosens the neck of his shirt by undoing a button.

“Yeah, everything go— good”.

“What's your plan for today?” Your brother questions whilst grabbing a small bottle of water from the fridge, sounding very interested.

“I'm goin' on a date with Nestor”.

Oh, the pettiness. Silence filling the kitchen. Your brother lands his eyes on his best friend; confused, perplexed. Miguel must be thinking it's one of your jokes or something like that until he notices the sweat on Nestor's forehead. Marcus laughs breaks the tension installed around you, shaking his head as if it was the funniest thing he has heard in his life. The counselor has to abandon the place, almost choking on his own saliva, flooding the house with his laughter.

Miguel just sips water, moving his head from you to Nestor, like when he watches a tennis game.

“Qué desagradable”. He babbles, imagining stuff he doesn't have to imagine. “New nightmares unblocked… I don't want to know… a thing about it”.

Waving his free hand, your brother disappears again not adding another word to his sentence. Nestor is close to a heart attack, trying to say something in his defense. But he has collapsed.

“I'm free for lunch”.

“Uh?” He utters placing his attention back on you.

“Lunch. I'm free”. You repeat, conscious he hasn't heard you.

“Ok— okay. I, uh… I'll wait for you to… get ready”.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

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[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 5 (Pynch Soulmate AU)

Alrighty my loves, this chapter has been a labor of love from the beginning. As you continue reading you will see art pieces and each is correlated with a song (those will be at the end), and references yet again will be made to the EMFS playlist (Ronan’s rehab playlist- I’ve actually made it on spotify! you can find it here)

As usual you can find this story on Ao3 @ glam_reaper 2 if you’re interested <3

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, a panic attack though not super descriptive, cannon typical language.

Iv.

You,

I made a friend last week.

I know for most people that wouldn’t be a big deal, but I assume by now You understand what that means for someone like me. I guess “friend” may be a generous term? I don’t know if we are there yet, Blue definitely disagrees with him “on principle.” 

You see, President Cellphone as she calls him, or Richard Campbell Gansey III (I know, what a douchey fucking name) is all boat shoes and privledge and perfect teeth. Gansey isn’t someone I’d normally associate with mind you, Henry kind of met my quota for rich extroverts in the inner circle, and yet…

So, here’s the story. I’m writing my last letter right? And I was so fucking lost. I decided to walk home from Nino’s- I thought maybe it would help me settle. And there, right around the corner is this fucking ‘73 camero. It should have been beautiful, really.. A classic like that? It’s a dream to look at. Only this fucking thing is the UGLIEST color of candy orange you could ever imagine… And it’s blowing smoke all over the damn place. I was honestly going to leave boat-shoes to call his daddy or mechanic or what have you, but he looked so confused. I offered to help him out and was able to get it running long enough to get to Boyd’s.

I expected him to just drop off “The Pig” (the car) like any normal person and come back for it, only I apparently made “quite the impression.”

Gansey ended up staying with me, prattling on about his Masters History program and some welsh king the ENTIRE time I worked on the damn car. At first I was tuning him out, but without realizing it I became completely entranced by the whole story. I’ve never seen such passion for anything, and I have VERY spirited friends.

He has one of those voices you know? The kind that can stop a room, raise an army, lead a nation. The kind that demands to be heard without ever having to raise itself.

That’s Gansey though.

I think he’ll be good for me, I don’t think he’d give me much of a choice in the matter though to be honest. He kind of adopted me this week? That should bother me and yet, being around him is just… It’s being included. It’s a sense of purpose.

I think he needs it too, he doesn’t seem to talk about negative things but you can tell, he’s haunted by something. That’s what solidified it for me really. He may be a senator’s son but he’s seen some shit. 

I wish you could have met him, I wonder if you would have been as intrigued by him as I find myself. 

Blue is being a total idiot about him, but I’m about 82% sure it’s because she is into him. I know for sure the feeling is mutual. It took Gans approximately 15 minutes after meeting Blue to ask me for her life story, offend her beyond measure, and then haul ass out of Nino’s. It was the first time I’d seriously laughed in so long. Have you ever been second-hand embarrassed for someone? It was that. 

I’m going to wrap this up now though, I need to head to Nino’s for my shift, Blue’s working so of course Gans is stopping by. He said he’s bringing one of his best friends with him, some dude named Noah. Apparently he’s pretty cool, so I’m moderately less apprehensive. He said he wished he could bring his other best friend/ his and Noah’s third roommate but the guy is staying with family for a few months or something. Idk? He doesn’t talk about the other roommate much. I honestly don’t even think he’s ever said his name. Who gives a shit though, I can barely handle one new friend, let alone a 3-pack of Ganseys. Good God… I hope Noah isn’t another Gansey…. Fuck.

Welp.

Here goes nothing.

*****

It started with a not-so-subtle idea from the esteemed Dr. Allen. “Show me what happened.” Ronan was never great with words before all this, and since… When he spoke it was usually a litany of curse words. So Dr. Allen had suggested art. In the weeks since his entombment in this fine rehabilitation center, Ronan had kind of already been doing what he was being asked to do now. Though, he didn’t mention it to Allen. He’d spent countless hours sketching his life, the whole thing, in snapshots inside that beautiful leather sketchbook Gansey had given him. 

He started at the beginning, pictures of Aurora and his brothers, the Barns, his father playing guitar by the fire. He drew their family vacations, the cows he used to sneak out and sleep beside when he was a child, the feeling of winning the Tennis State Championship when he was 15. He drew the bad things too, his nightmares, his drug-trips, that old stained couch in the basement of Kavinsky’s house. He put every piece of himself, all 22 years of memories down in that book, woven together with song lyrics in the margins. 

So when Dr. Allen asked him to look specifically to his addiction and create, he didn’t see a problem. He needed to return to school with a series anyways, Declan had called to inform him that strings had been pulled to allow him to finish his final semester at Georgetown, but he needed to walk in with something to show at the January exhibition. Two birds, and all that.

He settled on 7 pieces, each done in oils on canvas, each accompanied by a song. 7 moments in the life of his battle with addiction, from the beginning to now. With each stroke of his brush he felt infinesmally lighter, pouring his grief into the images before him. 

It started with “The Fall.” His father’s murder in reds and greys; fracturing lines and deep shadows. He mixed his paints with tears and used his heart to drag color across the canvas. For the first time in years, Ronan allowed the memory to consume him. He’d re-lived it plenty of times in his nightmares, but this was different. His hands shook, jagged strokes of anger and confusion bleeding through. He painted the brief moment, the final moment, when his world was whole before his teenage mind finally realized what it was he was looking at. His last free breath. And he painted his screams, the cacophony of pain, endlessly mixing with sirens until his vocal chords gave out. 

He drowned the canvas in un-kept promises and hung it out to dry with childhood dreams.

Then came “Chasing the Void.” It was a story told in stark lighting. High beams on a backroad, swirling smoke and broken bottles. It was white glasses and white-powder lines on shark-nosed hood. It was going 115mph, bones rattling with the beat of the bass in his sound system. Ronan painted a black tattoo, used the blood on his knuckles to tint bloodshot eyes. His brush moved with his mother’s disappointment and his brother’s anger. Whimsical lines and Gansey’s head shaking when he found Ronan passed out yet again. He painted the highs and lows when sobriety reminded him that he hated the face that stared back at him in the mirror. 

Each new piece he added to the collection was brought to Dr. Allen’s office. Together they worked through each memory associated with the piece and slowly Ronan felt the weight on his chest lighten. 

Gansey visited every Monday and Friday like clockwork. He kept Ronan apprised to all the goings on of Monmouth and updates on Matthew and Declan. Ronan never asked for them, but he appreciated it regardless. His current obsession though seemed to be a new friend, Adam something. He had been going on for 30 minutes now about how this man single-handedly raised the Pig from the dead. Ronan tuned out most of the conversation, but nodded at what he assumed were appropriate moments while sketching.

“Ronan, are you even paying attention?” Gansey asked, irritation only slightly evident.

“Mmm?” Ronan hummed. “For sure. Pig. Smoke. Some new guy.”

“Essentially. I was saying that Noah and I are heading to his second job, the man works 2 jobs and is getting a masters can you believe it? Anyways Nino’s, so Noah can finally meet him and Blue. Have I mentioned her yet?” 

Blue? He thought. Who the fuck names their kid Blue. “Once or twice.”

“Well they both work this afternoon, so I assume we’ll just hang there until they get off. Then maybe grab a bite. I wish you could come, I’m sure you’d get along nicely with Adam.” Gansey said, choosing to ignore the previous sarcasm and barrell on. Excelsior. 

“Doubt it.” Guy sounds like a douche.

“On that note, thank you for another lovely visit. I’ll see you Monday, Ronan.” Gansey gathered his coat and made his way to the door with a final wave.

Ronan waved back with a single finger and a saccharine “Bye, Dick.” Then shoved his Airpods back into his ears and lost himself in the EMFS playlist.

*****

As Adam gathered the tub of dirty dishes from above the trash and made his way back to wash them, he was lost in thought. These last two weeks, recent events, had been so much and yet he strangely was beginning to feel some semblance of peace. He knew that Blue had wanted him to write letters to help him cope. If he was admitting to it helping, he also needed to be honest with himself in noting that it may have been hurting just as much. He was falling in love with a ghost. A figment of his imagination that he could tell his every secret too, someone who listened without judgment; Someone who never asked more of him than he could handle. It wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what Blue had intended, of that he was sure. But, if it brought him peace and allowed him to sleep without seeing cold, dead eyes, then what was the harm?

He rinsed the mugs and plates loading them efficiently into the dishwasher, and dried his hands. As he moved to toss the towel into the bin, he heard the bell chime above the cafe door. He made his way slowly to the front, knowing that Blue was currently handling the register meant that he didn’t need to rush. On his way down the hallway he stopped to straighten a missing cat flier on the community bulletin board, taking a moment to snap a picture of the cat in question so he could be on the lookout, then continued toward the front; eyes glued to his phone.

He rounded the corner towards the coffee bar to the tune of laughter, it seemed Gansey had arrived. His eyes found Blue first. For all her insistance that she loathed the man in question, she was positively glowing, head tossed back in a hearty laugh. Lost in the bubble of charm Gansey operated in. 

“-And so I asked him, mind you I’ve had a lot to drink at this point, ‘Hey senator, why do you fucking hate poor peo-‘ Oh! Adam” Ganseys story of embarrassing his mother at one of her Republican fundraisers interrupted, as he caught sight of Adam sliding behind the bar.

“Hey Gans,” He smiled. 

“My apologies, this is Noah.” Gansey stepped to the side to reveal the man in question, and Adam’s breath stopped. 

There, eyes blue and wide with shock, mouth agape stood the man from the alley. The one whose scream still haunted Adam in the dark, solitary hours of sleep. The one that began his every nightmare of that night.

He was different now, tears weren’t pouring from his eyes to dance across the plains of his smudgey face. His blonde hair free of blood was slightly tousled, and his clothes were clean, albeit a little disheveled. 

“No,” the word was a broken noise, barely a word at all, closer to a sob. Gansey and Blue looked frantically between the two for what seemed like an eternity before Noah spoke.

“It’s you…” 

“Who? Noah, you know Adam?” Gansey’s voice was quietly confused.

Adam began to shake his head slowly, increasing with speed as his breath finally returned to him; Erratic and wild. Crocodile tears blurred his vision, and he finally croaked a simple question, “What… What was his name?”

“Ronan.”

“Oh, god” Blue breathed. 

Adam ran, desperately fleeing the scene and chorus of his name called from the front. Ronan, his name was Ronan. Adam couldn’t breathe. His pain fresh, an un-mendable wound reopened now that he had a name to grieve. He paused, only long enough to grab his messenger bag from the back, and took the alley door. 

Then he ran, faster than he’d ever remembered running. Tears turning the colors of the world around him to a haunting watercolor. His breath came in painful stabs, each beat of his bleeding heart an excruciating truth.

He somehow made it back to his apartment. The moment the door closed behind him he fell against it and slid to the floor. Ronan Ronan Ronan-

“R-Ronan.” He spoke the name the first time aloud, the feeling of its weight on his tongue was an answer to a question he’d been asking for a month. For a lifetime.

Adam didn’t know how long he sat on the floor, grief taking time and twisting it in on itself. An amalgam of pain, hopelessness, and questions. Gansey, Gansey knew Ronan, knew Noah. Noah the boy he’d last seen carted away in the back of an ambulance covered in red red red. Noah, who’d screamed for help like the world was shattering. Noah, who’d clung tightly to the shredded arms of a bleeding man in a dark alley.

Help me, his mind screamed, his internal voice morphing into Noah’s from that night. 

Help me, I’m not okay…

A key twisting in the lock above his head brought his attention to the present. Adam pushed away from the door, and waited as Blue made her way into his dark apartment. Night had fallen sometime since he’d been here, on the floor, lost in the alley. Lost in a name.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Th-that was-”

“I know. Noah told us after you left. Adam, there’s… Adam. I need to tell you something.”

It was a concentrated effort to drag his gaze from the space between their bodies on the floor to meet her eyes. Lights from the street poured through the window in the living room, painting Blue’s honey warm skin in a haunting glow. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, so he waited. He watched. She brought a trembling hand to his, her brown eyes lined with silver, she squeezed.

“Adam, he’s alive.” 

A sob born of heartbreak and pain tore from his chest, he couldn’t form words. He broke then, completely and wholly. Blue came to cradle his head against her chest as he cried. Every hope he’d killed since the alley came barreling to the surface; All the pain and confusion, love and questions, beating like waves against the shores of his mind. Some minutes later he finally raised his head and met Blue’s eyes, her smile was wet and broken. He dragged his hand under his nose, across his eyes, and finally found the word to the question he needed to ask. “How?”

So Blue told him. Apparently, him finding Noah and Ronan in that alley, the tourniquet he’d made of his scarf, that extra minute he’d bought him had been enough. The doctors were able to stitch his wounds, and though it had been a close call, he’d pulled through. She explained that he’d had a hard life, though Gansey wouldn’t give details because he insisted those were Ronan’s to share when he was ready. He did however give her basic facts. Ronan Niall Lynch is an artist, a senior at Georgetown. He’s an orphan, and a brother. He’s an addict in recovery at a facility in Arlington, and Gansey’s third roommate. 

Blue explained that, when Adam was ready Gansey and Noah wanted to meet with him, to talk more. She offered to accompany him when that time came, but they all agreed they wouldn’t push him until he was ready. “Thank you,” he’d said to Blue. For getting the information. For telling him. For allowing him space. She understood that his history made this difficult, an addict for a soulmate was something he would need time to process. She eventually asked if he wanted to be alone and when he’d told her “yes” she kissed his forehead, and made her way to the door.

“Adam,” she paused, and he looked up. “We’ll wait on your text okay? Whenever you’re ready. But please check in so I know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

With a perfunctory nod she slid back out the door. 

Adam spent another minute in silence before dragging himself from the floor. He made his way in a daze to his desk and he collapsed into his chair. Slowly, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper. 

His hand shook.

He took a deep breath.

He wrote.

V

Ronan,

You’re alive…

**********************

Art Pieces and their correlating songs (linked):

“The Fall”  The War- SYML

“Chase The Void”  For What It’s Worth- Malia J

[philsdesktopcomputer]

Feelings, a blessing or a curse?

This is a older fic that i wrote when i was REALY FUCKING CAFINATED at like 6am, so if its’s a bit weird that’s why, but this is still one of my favs ive ever written

Summary: “sometimes i wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse, they’re both”

Tw: idk if this counts but slight self hate bad dreams mention of blood

>Dans point of view< Phil's talking to the camera, rambling on about things that I can't seem to focus on because he's just to beautiful.

All I see are his perfect lips and his perfect cheek bones and his perfectly perfect kissable lips....

And I love him.

I can't do anything about it, of course, 'cause there's this little fact that he's straight and can't feel anything for me, and any advances towards him would ruin or friendship. But at least I get to stare at him, and make him happy as my friend. At least. But he'll never love me, and will likely end up marrying his dream girl, having a family. Forgetting me.

This hailstorm of roller coaster feelings burst through my mind in a matter of seconds, morphing my happy gaze into a slightly less happy gaze, into a dread full gaze. Actual tears forming in my eyes.

Stupid.

I quickly change my focus, continuing the video, pretending I didn't just buy my own one way ticket to dread-town through a simple gaze at this man I've loved for the past, what is it now, years.

He can't love you back stop thinking about him.

We finish the video, Phil making a joke that I half heartedly laugh at, forcing as much joy as I can into my smile.

"I'll edit that later, right now I'm getting tired, see you in the morning," I tell Phil collecting my chill, which had been scattered across the metaphorical world, like it was every time I thought to deeply about my impend-able doom loving Phil.

Some times I wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse. They can destroy people like me, drag me down a dark, lonely pit of 'what if' and 'don't bother he'll never love you'

My mind can be a cruel place when I got into this state, sadness masking itself as an ocean and drowning me. Phil.....

I fall asleep three hours later, his name replaying in my mind, almost as if a broken record had been turned on and no one had the energy to fix it, leaving it to torture my mind with it's sad notes. Over and over again.

>Phil's point of view<

The video we're filming is going just fine, jokes and laughter. We talk to the camera and smile at the thousand people who will smile back, even though we don't see it.

As I'm talking absent mindedly about what I would do if giant space lazer-cats invaded, I glance over at Dan, his features shocking me for a moment, I somehow forgot how absolutely beautiful this man was.

Yeah, I had been majorly crushing I him for a while now. Okay maybe full out head over heels, 'I'll wait for you forever' in love with him.

I don't really care that he doesn't seem to have feelings for me, I'm just happy to be here. Living with him as my best friend. Able to bask in his beauty like a starved man in the presence of food.

I smile at my thought and continue with the video.

Dan tells me he's going to bed, it's only eleven but he seems on the verge of passing out in his chair, so I bid him a good night and head towards my bedroom.

I clumsily slide out of my jeans and t-shirt, flopping onto my bed and opening my laptop. Internet time.

Seeming two minutes later I glance at the time, 3 am. How the frickety-frick-frack did that happen?

I shut down my laptop and get out of bed to put it away on my dresser, as I don't feel like accidentally nocking it of my bed in the middle of the night.

The warmth of my bed welcomes me as I slide back under the colorful covers. Mmmm, sleep.

My mind is slowly teetering into the bliss of sleep when a loud, blood curdling scream jolts me right out of whatever abyss I was happily falling into.

Another scream has me scrambling, quite sleepily, out of my bed and across the hall without thinking.

Dan. Something is wrong with Dan.

>Dan's pint of view<

They chase me. The shadows. Their laughter is a chorus of terrifying shrieks. Help. The wet pavement burns my feet, wet with my blood. I run, but fatigued is  chasing me even faster than the beasts. I fall, I scream. Help. Again. Help. They're hands on me. Shaking, then my name.

My eyes tear open to meet a gorgeous blue that instantly calms me, blue as the sea and just as peaceful.

I become aware of not only the tears streaking my cheeks, racing to my neck almost as if it were a race. The wetness clouding Phil's angelic features. I also notice Phil's wearing nothing but boxers. My speeding heart stops, for a second. My dream forgotten. But Phil still looks as if he just witnessed a murder. Scared out of his mind.

"Danogmygodareyouokayyouscreamedsoloud" bursts out of his mouth, faster than a spreading bullet. I can feel the corners of my mouth tug upwards, "yeah, I just had a bad dream" Phil smiles softly, and brushes away a tear with shacking fingers.

I've never loved him more than I've loved him at this moment.

"But can you sleep in my bed with me, I'm scared" it comes out in a whisper, not because it's late, or I'm tired, but because that's the highest level I can get my voice to with Phil's perfect face so close to my less perfect face.

"Yes, of course!" He slides under the blanket with me, his arm pressed against mine. This won't do. I don't care if attempting to cuddle him will hint at me liking him, I need his warmth, his safety, almost as much a I need air to breath. I turn on my side and prompt Phil to do the same, he does and he's told, I wrap my arms around his waist and he does the same, then I go a step further,pressing my face into his shoulder. It feels amazing, even if my hearts in my thought. I fall asleep almost instantly, his safety acting as a shield to the destructive tornado of my nightmares.

And I swear I hear Phil say he loves me, in my dreams that night. And I wish I could say it back, in real life.

>Phil's point of view<

I push the door to Dan's bedroom the see him thrashing violently on his bed, trapped in a nightmare. I rush to him and shake his shoulders, yelling his name. DAN!! His eyes fly open, tears falling from them. Our eyes meet and I am instant aware of the two inches between us. So close.

"Danohmygodareyouokayyouscreamedsoloud" flys right out of my mouth, so fast I'm sure he only understood every other word.

He smiles "yeah I just had a bad dream" I smile back and brush away a tear that slips out of his eyes.

"But can you sleep in my bed with me, I'm scared" something twist inside my stomach and my smile grows "Yes, of course!" It comes out a little faster, and louder than I thought it would, but Dan doesn't seem to notice.

I slide into the bed next to him, savoring the feeling of his arm against mine. He whines, slightly, getting me to turn on my side and face him, his arms slide around my waist, heart beating faster than I thought possible, I wrap my arms around his waist as well.

He buries his face into my shoulder and I smile to myself, "I love you," I whisper when I'm sure he's asleep, testing the words. It feels amazing, but as much as Dan's face pressed into my bare shoulder.

*le quick time skip to a week later*

It happened again, for the third time that week. Dan had a bad dream, screaming his lungs out until I woke him, cuddling him for the rest of the night. Again, whispering 'I love you' to him in his sleep. Maybe one day I'll work up enough courage to say it out loud. Maybe.

My eyes fluttered open that morning to Dan's back presses tightly to my chest, my arms wounded around him like someone was going to take him from me.

He seemed to be asleep, I smiled to myself. Slowly running my head through his adorable hobbit hair, pressing my face into his shoulder blade. "I love you." I whisper

"I love you, too."

I sit quickly, taught, like a live wire What

> Dan's point of view<

The feeling of Phil's fingers in my hair wakes me.

Than his face is pressed into my shoulder blade, and I smile.

Then he speaks and my heart stops.

Instead of pretending to be asleep I say it back. Not knowing where this will go and where it is already.

I shiver as he quickly pulls away from me to sit up, I turn and look at him, tears already wetting my eyelashes. What have I done? What if he wasn't saying it to me? What if he was on the phone? What if he didn't mean it?

We stare at each other for a minute. A soul shattering 60 seconds.

And then Phil's on top of me, his lips against mine, and we kiss. The second the kiss is broken I whisper "So does that mean we're boyfriends now?" He kisses me again and whispers a yes in my lips.

Sometimes I wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse.

They're both.

Sorry ending was a tad bit rushed hope you liked it anyway

[killemall1989]

All of the flowers!!!

well shucks if u insistDAISY: How old were you when you had your first kiss?i was 7 issa living

CARNATION: If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?fuuuucc either tyler the creator or declan mckenna

JASMINE: What color looks best on you?black (hes a goth bitch)

FOXGLOVE: Name three facts about your family?1. doesnt function well2. everyones sad3. doesnt function well

ALLIUM: What’s the best thing you can cook?chicken fettucini alfredo ??? probably. i am more of a baker,,

ORANGE BLOSSOM: If you could pick the gender and appearance of your child, would you?nah wtf thats weird dude

CALLA LILY: If you died right now, what song would you want to play at your funeral?born again by josh garrels ???? idk man an instrumental of a song def though

POINSETTIA: Favourite holiday dish?gingerbread does that count idk

OXLIP: Would you ever get into a long distance relationship?i mean i have in the past so probably yeah. if the feelings are there and strong.

PRIMROSE: Favourite kind of soup?dumpling soup

DAFFODIL: What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received?a guitar probably

ROSE: Are you currently in love with someone?yeah and it sucks like dont do it

AMSONIA: Would you ever become a vegan?im a vegetarian lmao so yeah if i could manage without dying,, i was vegan before but i couldnt swallow the vitamins my weak body required

PEONY: What’s your favourite hot beverage?german chocolate mocha binch

TULIP: For your birthday, what kind of cake do you ask for?cheesecake

MYRTLE: Do you like going on airplanes?i like airports but not airplanes

HIBISCUS: Did you ever play an instrument? If so what?i play a few ya. as previously mentioned, guitar. violin, which is my favorite. ukulele. kalimba. bass guitar. and i dabble in like… most others

ZINNIA: Who was your best friend when you were six years old?that same girl i kissed when i was 7

POPPY: What color was your childhood home?v faded blue

HYDRANGEA: Starbucks order?none…

VIOLET: Do you like where you’re from?no i dont im from alaska which fuckin SUCKS its the most boring place ive ever been plus its part of america and… dont? get me started?

LOCUST: What was your favourite book as a child?where the sidewalk ends by shel silverstein

RHODODENDRON: What’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had?ooooh boy okay here’s this nightmare i had when i was like seven.so i was at this weird famous landmark (idk it doesnt exist irl); it was a castle and there was a bridge leading to it, but the piece of bridge that was connected to the castle had collapsed long ago. so you could only walk on the bridge, entry into the castle was not permitted as it was sort of in ruins. all that was rly intact was a tower. but anyways there were a bunch of tourists there on the bridhe, and i got lost in the crowd. seperated from my family. so i was like? where is my brother? cause he’s a couple years younger than me and i worry about him. and i heard a cry from that tower, so i freaked out cause it sounded just like him. well i being a delinquent make my way off the bridge and run through the shallow waters to the tower, trying to find him. the towers all stairs so i climb them, and when i finally reach the top it’s just this fucking torture tower and i’m like OH NO. and my brother isn’t there so i’m like OH NO. and i look around and realize there’s a woman in some gown that’s clearly from the same era as this castle. it’s all torn up and stained and such. but she looks young - like 20? so nothing makes sense. she notices me when i stare, and looks at me, and drops what i then notice is a knife she was cleaning. so i freak out and can’t breathe but she keeps staring at me and i’m like wow i’m really gonna die. and then she just starts smiling and she’s like “run.” and i can’t move and i’m worried about where the hell my brother actually is and i don’t run. so she starts screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! as she walks towards me and i finally get my legs to work and i run, downt the stairs, out of the tower, through the water, and she’s just walking after me, and i’m crying from fear, and i start running through the crowded bridge again trying to get help but no one will listen, and i turn around and see her in the crowd but no one else does, and i run again, and i trip, and she catches up to me and kneels down beside me and she’s like “not fast enough.” and i wake up then, and i’m actually crying, even though it was just a nightmare. but i can’t move. cause i have fucking sleep paralysis. and i start panicking. and i look to my bedroom door. and she’s fucking standing there with that cocky smile. and i think i’m screaming but no sounds coming out. and she’s just there.this nightmare reoccured at least ten times over the course of a year and each time i woke up with sleep paralysis and i saw her in my doorway.

QUEEN ANNE’S LACE: Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents?wrap presents, i love wrapping presents.

MAGNOLIA: Favourite kind of candy?starbursts 500%

ASTER: Would you rather be cold or hot?coldcoldcold i hate being hot like what can i do abt that nothing i wanna be cold gimme blankets

MARIGOLD: Do you listen to what’s on the radio?yes ofc like im not gonna listen to humble

HELICONIA: Do you like when it rains?yes sometimes

AZALEA: What’s a movie you cried while watching?one of the trillion movies ive watched that made me cry was comet that movie turns me into a bitch baby cuz i really relate to a character in it aha

DANDELION: Do you think you’re important?sometimes i do other times not so much

[stuntchica]

all the second kin ask meme

meme

okay sure, tonight is just me talking about kin stuff it seems. gonna put this under a read more though, in case it gets long

1. Who of your kins is most likely to stick out their tongue while focusing/working hard?

im gonna go with stunts

2. Which kin to you identify most with?

not including yellow or saeran here. but... probably c.c.? if we’re talking most similar to how i am now, i mean

3. Who was your first kin? 

partner eevee!

4. What is your favorite memory?

i talk about the same memory every single time im asked this so i see no pointin changing that now:

it’s a memory from clara. it was sometime around early series 9, show-wise. around then i was pushing myself to exhaustion out of a fear of sleep & nightmares & all that fun stuff. 12 noticed & took me to this relaxing planet where there would definitely be no danger

and honestly? yeah, it was a really relaxing place. we walked for a little bit then sat down on the ground and when we looked up, there was the most beautiful meteor shower. the trail of the stars was multicoloured. 12 was explaining the science behind it but i wasnt really listening to what he was saying.

eventually i ended up drifting off to sleep with my head on his shoulder. it didnt magically fix my sleep problems but, yknow, for a little while it was really nice.

(i mean, yeah, i was rudely awoken and we were arrested for trespassing but the memory sounds less perfect when i include that part)

5. What is your least favorite memory?

god i have so many bad memories i dont even know where to start! so i’ll just go with the one that’s been irritating me the most lately

being forced to kill an innocent, terrified girl and having the brainwashing lifted the moment that she was dead. then seeing the literal blood on my hands, seeing snow’s horrified expression. then remembering everything that woman had made me do, and how she’d made me act around her and the realisation that she was probably watching it all and getting some sick satisfaction out of it

like. just. fuck you pythie.

6. Which sense most connects you to your kin(s)?

im not sure what this means? like, the 5 senses?? i mean i guess maybe touch in that case bt idk if thats what the question is

7. How many kins do you have?

oh boy. 36, plus 2 ids, plus seriously questioning another 3. thats not counting the hundreds of thousands of echoes as clara, obviously. blimey thats a lot

8. Is there a kin you’re embarrassed about?

*stares directly at my 3 my little pony kin & sighs* yes. yes there is.

9. Who is your most obscure kin?

lindsay from waterloo road. so obscure i dont bother listing her anywhere. close runner up is madeleine valois

10. Is it hard for you to find canonmates?

honestly, i dont go out looking for canonmates. i do go out looking for sourcemates, but so far the only canonmates ive found have been by total accident

11. Are you okay with doubles?

mostly, yeah! sometimes i get intimidated by them or get jealous of them if they know a lot of people from our source, but especially when i talk to them im alright!

12. Who of your kins is most likely to cause mayhem or panic? 

mew. who would then just laugh and go off on its merry way

13. Which of your kins has the worst sense of fashion?

most of my kin have decent fashion but uh, kinshiro

14. Who from your canon do you miss most? 

out of the people i havent found, right now probably snow. oh damn, also meredy i nearly forgot how much i miss her. 

15. What was your favorite canon?

pokemon!! such a nice, happy world!!

16. Which canon do you have the most memories from?

kunzite. i genuinely have no idea why i have so many memories from the sad rock man, yet here we are

17. Which canon do you have the fewest memories from?

madeleine valois? i think

18. Do any colors remind you of certain kins?

i associate a colour with every kin, every canonmates, every heckin . fictional character. we will be here all day if i list them all out.

19. Do you have kins from the same source and canon?

yup! mlp, dw, pkmn!

20. Do you have kins from the same source but different canons?

im not sure, but probably...?

21. Who of your kins is the biggest meme?

m e w . similarly, riolu. and also pinkie

22. Who of your kins is the mom/dad friend?

clara. jellal. trish. arguably kunzite

23. Does any non-kin know that you’re kin?

mhm! blossom does! she’s the only person though

24. Is there anything you could do in a past life that you wish you could still do?

teleportation. i wish i could just travel anywhere in an instant again. there are so many things i wouldve done if i could

25. Do you have any kins that aren’t from media?

yeah, two! water spirit & deity!