#couldnt find a quote sorry

[nicolaz-stimz]

sorz for the super obscure one but yoola from a masochists tango (by fubarashow) with clown+circus themes pls!!!

Yoola // A Masochist’s Tango

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

my favourite toxic and tragic ships

rhaenicent.

"What are you doing?" "So you remember."

hannigram.

"Do you believe you could change me? The way I've changed you." "I already did."

villaneve.

"I think my monster encourages your monster, right?" "I think I wanted it to."

jackieshauna.

"You're the best friend I've ever had, you know that right? "Yea, I know."

hilson.

"The operation is in two hours and I'd like you to be there with me" "No." "What, why?" "Because if you die, I'm alone."

[bloodhound126]

vampire romance

[misfithive]

//missing you comes in waves & tonight I'm drowning// Drowning - Chris Young

[autismsasuke]

So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.

Jandy Nelson, I'll Give You the Sun || Sophokles, Elektra || Pierce Brown, Red Rising || Andrew Kozma, Song of the insensible || Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game

[ggenggar-draws]

OFFTOBER - day 3 Pedalo Race

[racingmiku2018]

i remember when me and my siblings were helping my dad pack up to move apartments one of us accidentally packed his full inhaler with the empty ones and we brought that box of inhalers to the new place and drove back to the old one and when my dad found out he said "ill just let myself die if i have an asthma attack" and then later in the night he did have an asthma attack and i had to call an ambulance for him and when they got there they helped him with his stupid asthma and then had to help me because i was having a panic attack bc i thought i had put the inhaler in the wrong box and it wouldve been my fault if he died. i was 15

[lunarlagomorph]

i dont know if id call kirei and jupiter fully identical but the one line where jupiter says something like "when being a good person meant doing the right things i felt okay but when they said actually it's what's in your heart that matters i knew there was no hope for me" is very kirei

[hideyseek]

okay well i was doing something else (liveblogging me watching guardian episode 23) and i started writing a post that "quoted" the show, then second-guessed my translation, and then spent literally two hours thinking about how to translate the preceding sentence. oops. this post is so long but also was SO fun.

ok so the full ... thing that zhao yunlan says is: 他这个人呀，个性太深沉. 喜欢哑巴吃黄连. 所以我只能等着了, 等到他苦到心头, 苦到他自己说出来为止. i'm only actually translating the first sentence, bc it took me like two hours and i need to go to bed. that first sentence is: 他这个人呀，个性太深沉. the 他 (he) in this sentence refers to shen wei.

uh. direct translation (literal translation? idk what this is called) would be something like: he, this person, personality too [adjective]. just to give some sense of structure, bc i have translation opinions about this later.

first off, this adjective. 沈沉 (shen1 chen2) means both "deep, profound" and "undemonstrative, reserved", according to pleco. i'm willing to bet that the line is meant to describe shen wei with both meanings. my best translation includes the word "fathom". "hard to fathom" or "fathomless" — i think that leans toward both the "depth" part and the lack of knowing/understanding, though describing someone as "fathomless" conveys the distance of "reserved" from the other direction: a distance to breach rather than a distance created. i'll accept this only because zhao yunlan, rather than shen wei, is the one speaking (well also becaue there is not another english word i know that can do this lol.) also, the bit i'm most thrilled about with this word choice: both characters (沈沉) in the original phrase have the water radical, and 沉 used as a verb means "to sink" (as an adjective it means "heavy"). historically (but modern-day in usa english only apparently), a fathom is a unit (equal to 6 feet) used to measure water depth, which pleasantly mirrors the deep water that the original phrase invokes to me.

and then the matter of preserving the cadence of the original line. lol. lmao, even. in my mind, part of what i'm valuing as a translator is giving an actor the same amount of time to work with when speaking. does this matter to other people? probably not. if this was written down i would probably value something else. but i'm the one writing the world's longest post about this, and bai yu said it, so.

initially i thought something like: "he's— he's too fathomless a person." the added dash because i couldn't think of another way to give the reader or actor the space of "这个人呀", which directly translated is like "this person" and here in the line i think is just a way to lend emphasis to "他" (he). but the dash could also force an actor into playing hesitation on the line when it's not originally present -- the way bai yu says this, it comes across meandering/pondering. (screams)

ok fast forwarding to after i chewed on this stick for way too long, bc it got late and i wasn't that structured about thinking about it anymore. it became a sort of "brute force it and then identify what i dislike about this translation and try to fix it." i'm going with: "he's such a fathomless person, that guy." (admittedly, this is without translating the other sentences of this bit that zhao yunlan is saying. in full context / going into the next sentence i might tweak it later.) analysis (justification? lol) follows:

the addition of "that guy" emphasizes the "he" of the first phrase and lengthens the whole line without making it more formal (more difficult than i expected!) in a way that mirrors the "这个人呀" of the original line. this is the "giving an actor enough words to work with" thing. just "he's such a fathomless person" is much more direct than the original line. but with this translation, there is an added distance between the speaker and the object of the sentence. in the original line, zhao yunlan says "这个人", meaning literally "this person", but in the sentence i feel like it's being used as more like, "this example" ("he", shen wei). either way, to me there's a nearbyness/presence conveyed. but it didn't feel right to maintain the use of "this" when shen wei isn't in the room (actually i have no idea if he is even in the building), and also in english when speaking generally about a person, i feel like it's more ... fluid(??) to say "that guy" than "this guy" (though truthfully writing this post has made me doubt my grasp of english about seven times so i'm really not so sure anymore). anyway, the point is, i compromised with "that guy".

we also lose the directness of zhao yunlan commenting specifically on shen wei's character/personality, since the original line is phrased as, "his personality/character is too [adjective]", but i'm satisfied with how much of that idea is retained with this translation. i also don't want to prioritize including the word "personality" over mirroring the cadence of the translation (when this would also cost us the secondary meaning of "character"). and, when including an extra word to capture this meaning (ie, the word "personality"), i couldn't figure out a way to juggle both the "too/overmuch" meaning of 太 and the natural-sounding two-part structure to the original line. "his personality is too/so fathomless" / "he's too fathomless a person" both don't sound quite right to me, but "he's too hard to fathom" emphasizes this idea of difficulty/prior attempt that both isn't present in the original line and doesn't really feel in character for zhao yunlan at this point. by now shen wei has already described zhao yunlan as the one person who has attempted to/partially succeeded in understanding him.

i wanted a third pros/cons paragraph bc two felt like too few but i think that was already my entire rant about "fathom" above. the third pro is: this translation achieved ... basic translation, lol. it conveys roughly the same meaning as the spoken lines and as far as i can tell (not far) is roughly the same level of casual/formal-ness. it doesn't include any additional metaphors or similes not present in the original.

ok that's all lol. goodnight ✌️

[primsycoldbottles]

i feel like im turning into one of those OMG MY BABIEESSS type of uwu romance readers w how im reacting to the romance in the book series im finishing . helpme

[nicolaz-stimz]

a Tadashi Kikuchi from Sk8 the Infinity stimboard would be nice!! maybe with some skating and dog stims?

Tadashi Kikuchi // Sk8 The Infinity

[takhayyul]

not the prev anon but i'm curious where "I think about you so much I worry it has become a prayer" comes from? <333 vv lovely

i spent the whole day tryna find the exact source for u, but i unfortunately cant remember or find it anywhere anymore, i know it’s a translated quote i believe it might be translated from some of bulleh shah’s works

[vivitalks]

(whispers) me? rebrand? i don't know what you're talking about! ive always been stydia in disguise

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[lindamccartneysstrap]

i love john doing the classic "everybody is bi" thing and yoko's just like, well i'm not.

john couldnt fuck a guy because he couldnt find one that was smart AND pretty enough </3

this is such an interesting quote why do interviewers never try to get these people to unpack any of the shit they say my god.

(sorry i know literally everybody knows about this interview but its the first time ive read it in years ok...)

[vxlentinescookies]

HELLO HI HI HI HRU??

So I was wondering if could do a one shot (bcz why not) of ananas discovering that reader is a witch cookie?? (Like reader is a witch but can transform into a cookie ykyk)

→ ❛A witch's tale❜

→ Pairing ; Ananas Dragon Cookie x Reader → Quote ; ❛❛Safe to say, this tale had a happy ending after all.❜❜ → Genre ; Drama , angst , romance → A/N ; Hihihi Im good! Sorry that this took so long, since it was a oneshot it took a bit of time but here you go! I hope you enjoy it!

“You lied to me!”

“I didnt have a choice!!”

At times like this, you always wondered how come you had such bad luck, how come you ended in moments like these, in situations like these. You’d look at the cookie in front of you for long moments. How did all of this start, actually? You closed your teary eyes for a few moments as you drew yourself back to the beginning of this mess.

It had been a long time when you two met, after all, you two were from completely vast worlds. You were a witch, a being of creation, but also one of destruction, and they were a dragon, also a being of creation, and also a being of destruction. Perhaps it was this duality what drew you both close? Perhaps it was this affection what drew you both together? You hummed to yourself as you thought, things were hazy, and yet, you tried to focus on the past for a few moments.

“State your business in this island, cookie”

“I-Im just a wanderer, I’ve stumbled upon your island and wish to stay for a few weeks, before I resume my trip to other lands…”

Right, the first time you both met was in the pineapple islands, back when you had just first turned into a cookie with the magic you held. You’d bow as deeply as you could as told by the villagers of the island, you even brought an offering as they said it might help you gain the dragon’s favor. It felt funny, depending on those who your hand created, you found delight in seeing how they grew to be, but you knew such luck wouldnt follow you forever. As so, you looked at the floor of the palace, awaiting for an answer. 

“Fine, you shall stay, but no more than a month” Would be the resolution, as you kneeled in front of the cookie, your gaze filled with a mixture of delight and joy.

From that day, you spent most of the time helping around the isles, helping cookies like Mango Cookie and learning about their lifestyle. It was… nice, a nice feeling to spend time amongst your creations, amongst the very things you made alongside the other witches, however, when asked where you came from by the other cookies, you’d stammer and attempt to find a way to either push the convo away or find a suitable excuse to answer. As much as you wanted to reveal your identity, you didnt want to scare the cookies away, after all, that was the main reason you became a cookie. However, there were times you missed your old human form, the form that you once belonged to and knew that you once would return to. But for now, you focused on your daily life as a cookie, writing about your findings and helping out on the island. 

Unbeknown to you, Ananas would be watching over you, as part of their task as the protector of the islands, they kept a special close eye on you, and yet, it couldnt fully put its head in the fact that there was something that drew them to you. Rarely coming out of their hiding, they’d call out for you in the middle of your stay in the isles, right when you were helping Mango Cookie with something. 

“You called for me, golden dragon?” You greeted them, then, bowing for them as they’d only gaze at you closely.

“Yes, I’ve been looking at you all these days, you’ve been of great help for the islands, I must admit” Would be their words at first, their gaze burning holes on your head as you kept your bow. “As so, I’ve decided to… request something of you”

‘Request?´You thought to yourself, ‘I thought Ananas Dragon Cookie was arrogant, what could they request from me?’

“What may I help you with, golden dragon?” You’d simply ask amidst your confusion, which was noted by the dragon, who, with a chuckle, would settle your sentence.

“You shall become my servant, and aid not only the island, but my personal affairs as well.”

Now, when you became a cookie, the last thing you expected was to call the attention of a dragon in that way, to call the attention of a being superior from you in such a way that they needed your aid in personal affairs. What personal affairs could a dragon even have? Despite your initial attempt at a protest, the dragon would simply tell you to be proud of this achievement, for they’d rarely hold onto any cookie for help. As so, you’d become their helper, the one to aid them in the issues they could have, always standing by their side and at times, even making chit chat as you both spoke whenever time allowed it.

Thats how you grew to learn more about the golden dragon, and in return, thats how it learnt what seemed to make you so special, so different form other cookies. You were kind, gentle, a complete opposite from them, and thats what drew them to you, that kindness, that sweetness, like sweet ambrosia in their lips, they’d drank it all the more you both spent time together, the more you both talked. Thats how they began to court you, slowly, but surely, and in return, you extended your stay, and a month became a year, and a year became many more. In said years you would take trips back to your home, where you’d return to your witch form and take a moment to rest, jolt down what you had found, before returning to the cookie world as one of them.

The rest of the time, however? You would be courted by the dragon of the islands, gifted lavish treasures, the finest of attires and the most delicious of foods. It was a slow burn, a flame that never seemed to fully consume, mostly because each time they got too close, you skillfully drew them away, denying their advances.

“Why do you not accept me?” They’d ask you one day, when you had refused their advances once more, causing them to grow tired and tired with each passing day. “What keeps you from doing so?”

“... Im afraid I cannot tell you” Would be your answer always, but the dragon wasnt satisfied, they could never be satisfied with such an answer.

Ananas was an obsessive lover, like many dragons were, possessive but not to extremes, simply wanting to protect the treasures that it had, and you were the most special of them all. So, it wouldnt back down, not while they had the ability to court you, and now while they knew that you felt the same. It was clear in your actions, your affection, how you accepted their lingering touch and their own affection. It threw them for a loop to see you be so adamant at turning them down. 

But deep down you knew there was so much you could do before they’d grow tired, you knew there was so much you could do before they knew the truth, for your heart ached in love for the dragon. They said opposites attract, and that couldnt be more true for the both of you. One day, you’d leave the islands yet again, hopping into a boat to disappear into the horizon like you always did, the catch? was that this time Ananas followed you as you left. They didnt want to distrust you, they truly didnt, but they knew that there was something in that trip that made you afraid of accepting their love, and so, they’d go with you in secret.

Perhaps, perhaps thats how we arrived at the current moment, where you gazed upon the cookie looking angrily at you as you stood in your witch form.

“Understand that I didnt have a choice” You pleaded, tears in your eyes as you took your hat off from your head, in a sign of respect, and defeat. “But there’s no hiding it now, is there…?”

“Just spit it out, you witch” They’d say, looking at you with venom in their eyes. “Your mere existence has put many cookies in the line, so say it”

“... Im a witch, Ananas Dragon Cookie” You’d finally sentence, but they wouldnt be taken aback, they’d simply huff as they prepared to leave. “Wait—Dont go! Please… Let me explain myself!”

“I dont have time for pitiful explanations” Would be their words before they took flight, disappearing into the same horizon you had disappeared many days ago.

And for many months, that would be the last you’d see of them, the last you’d see of Ananas as you wept in your study near your oven, near the door to the entrance of the cookie world. You considered closing said door, and leaving that life behind for good, for it brought you much pain, but one day, something changed.

You were weeping while revisiting your notes on the cookies, sat on the windowsill of your study, when something came flying towards you catching you off guard enough to trip and accidentally become a cookie yet again through a potion falling on you, a form you hadnt taken in months. Looking up, however, you’d be encountered with a sight you didnt expect to see after the fight that had broken that day.

“Ananas Dragon Cookie!” You’d explain, and the dragon in question would just groan slightly, rolling their eyes before helping you up. “W-Why are you here?”

“Witch— No, (y/n) cookie” They’d start “I’ve… come to hear you out”

“Huh?”

“Despite the secrets you kept from me, I’ve found myself unable to fully forget you, to fully draw you out of my heart, and so… and so…” They’d trail off, not without another groan, finally speaking after a while “Sigh… I’ve come to look for you”

“... You’re brave for stepping into the lair of a witch” You prefaced, then, to which Ananas would only huff as you’d chuckle “But, if you’ve come to hear me out, then I must oblige… I am a witch, but im not one of the witches that desire to eat cookies… I became a cookie myself simply for the desire to learn more about your cultures, your way of living, and… and in the way I… I fell in love…”

You took a deep breath, looking at them as they stared at you expectantly, awaiting for an answer, but instead of it you decided to continue speaking, in fear your feelings wouldnt be accepted, wouldnt be returned.

“I didnt tell you because I didnt want to tell you nor accept your advances because I knew the day would come where you’d realize Im not a cookie and, I feared that you’d leave me” You spoke, as he drew closer. “So I didnt—Ananas?”

“I’ve loved you for so many days” They’d start “And even when I thought I couldnt love you, i realized I still did, (y/n) cookie, will you accept my love now?”

Safe to say, this tale had a happy ending after all.