#feeling very soft lately

[2jihiir0]

circa 1986 at the Munson’s trailer 🚬

[lorelune]

lobotomy commission

|| jing yuan x gn!reader || T || love sick hopefully lovers || wc: 3.9k  || ao3 ||

The Xianzhou Alliance has... never allowed lobotomies? Why are you so insistent on receiving one?

(The General, the Divine Foresight.)

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: oh mister general jing yuan you have me so damn heart eyes. here's a lil sweet treat!!!!

CW: fluff, friends to lovers, jing yuan being a bit silly, alcohol consumption, FLUFF, a bit of crack being taken seriously

"Lady Fu, I need to be put down." Your cheek hits the low table. You feel pathetic. It's a Thursday and you're teary-eyed after far too little wine to be in such a state. You sniffle.

"No one is 'putting you down'!" Fu Xuan huffs from the other side, patting your arm. "It's rare that you’re this mopey. What’s troubling you?"

"I am not 'mopey'. I need a lobotomy. Which of the commissions would handle this procedure?"

Lady Fu frowns, clicks her tongue, and sighs your name, “A lobotomy, really?

"Yes, exactly. As soon as possible, preferably.” You down the rest of your cup and restlessly flip your phone screen up. 

"This is particularly pathetic. Stop drinking and wallowing and just tell me what's wrong."

"Fu Xuan, you will scold me." You push yourself up on the table and shake your head. "No, actually, you will fire me. You will send me to my office this very instant, force me to pack up my things, and turn in my permissions. I'll be out of a job. Then, I'll be homeless. then—"

"No, nuh-uh, no more dramatics!" Fu Xuan slaps a hand over your mouth. You're glad you’re seated in a private corner of the bar, as this is a rather pathetic display on both of your parts. "Please just tell me, what’s the matter?”

Your dilemma. 

"I like the General."

Fu Xuan frowns, expression pinched, and her hand falls heavily onto the table. "That... isn’t exactly new information? Even if it’s a... questionable call of taste, the general is handsome. Occasionally charming when he isn’t being an oaf on purpose. I don’t think having a bit of a crush on the Divine Foresight is anything unusual. Half of the population of the Luofu holds the same opinion.

“Okay, but,” you unlock your phone, a ceramic, cat-shaped charm swinging from the vase as you wobble. “What if the General were to return my feelings? And he invited me for a walk and a meal tomorrow evening?”

Fu Xuan's jaw drops. "You're joking."

"I'm not,” you whine and slide your phone across the table.

...

Divine Foresight 🦁:

Are you free tomorrow evening? I know a terrace that has a splendid view of the overlook near the Cinnabar Eyeline. I would be delighted to take you to it and share a meal after, 

Divine Foresight 🦁:

If you'll have me :3c

...

“Oh... wow.”  Fu Xuan looks shocked. It’s hard to shock her, but she does tend to avoid divining the destiny of those she is close to (unless entirely necessary.) Her intuition regardless of mathematics and astral geometry is, however, keen. Yet her eyes are wide and she struggles to gather her words. “What a menace.”

“I know.”

“The General is rarely so forward. I’ve never heard of him being so forward.”

“I know.”

“Except, perhaps—”

“With me?” You rub your cheeks. They’re warm from the wine. 

“Only you. Though this is particularly... telling. I’m sure it’s sincere.”

“I would agree.” Your stomach flutters, and you swallow the feeling down. 

Fu Xuan narrows her eyes and says your name, mouth in a thin line, "You haven't replied."

“And that’s why I need the lobotomy.” You swallow. “I’m going to turn him down.”

“WHAT?!”

You need another drink.

Fu Xuan clearly does not. Her cheeks flush rosy pink as she slaps her hands on the low table. “Why would you reject him? Even if he’s a scoundrel— he is genuine.”

“I know, that’s why I can’t accept his... proposition.”

Despite knowing that Jing Yuan serially denies any potential suitors or daring admirers. You know that it has always been like this— from the time long ago when he first gained rank, to his ‘withered age’ as he self-deprecating refers to himself now. He is always kind about his rejections, you’ve witnessed one or two of them, but he never even entertains the idea of romantic partnership. You’ve never heard him mention it or any desires. 

So, for him to so bluntly ask you on a date—

He couldn’t be more clear with his feelings. 

“You’re a fool.”

“Now, you’re getting it.” You pour yourself another glass of plum wine. Your shared bottle is nearly empty. “This is why I need the lobotomy.”

Fu Xuan watches you drink your glass in a single go. Her brows are pinched and her arms are crossed. Her shoulders sag a moment later.

“I do believe I understand your reasoning, and I don’t think it’s lobotomy-worthy.”

“... High praise.” 

“[Name].”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” You laugh behind your palm. The world feels sticky and bouncy, all at once. You crave the respite of your own bed. “I can’t accept his proposition in the form of a text. I mean, Lady Fu, he's the most powerful man on the Luofu. He is renowned in all fields of battle, strategic, and social graces. He’s kind. He probably like, kisses babies on Sundays at the markets."

"He does not."

"You never know!" You groan. "That's all to say that I won't accept an invitation to a date with this little effort put into it."

"... Because it's a text?"

"Because it's a text." You nod.

Fu Xuan pauses, then sighs. 

“I can’t decide if that makes you a fool or not.” Her hair is frizzing up with the humidity. "Perhaps you have a point, the General is old enough to know and have some decorum when going about these things."

"Maybe he's a virgin? But like, for dating." 

"I'd have to check... certain records. Archives. To confirm or deny that."

You wilt, “He probably isn’t. I’m being foolish.” 

“No, you’re not.” Fu Xuan smooths a hand over your cheek with a frown. 

"Lady Fu," you cry and wish you were at home. In bed. Maybe you should block his number. "You're supposed to say, 'You absolutely are, my most beloved junior, I will schedule your lobotomy and—’"

"No more talk of lobotomies, please."

"Fine, fine." you sigh and finish off your final cup as Lady Fu does as well. "Do you think I'm nuts for turning him down?"

"... No, I don't." Fu Xuan looks shy for a moment. A lot more human than her lofty station implies. "I don't doubt that... Jing Yuan has feelings for you. I see how he looks at you. But he ought to romance you a bit. A text is low effort. You should reply regardless though."

"I'm going to, I just needed some courage. And moral support." You give her a soft smile and tap back into your messages. Fu Xuan practically crawls around the table to your side. She leans her head on your shoulders and her eyes droop. You take a heavy inhale, then exhale, attempt to focus your blurry vision and craft.

...

You:

General, though I'm flatered by your offer, I will need to decline. Though I will ackknowledge what I would imagine (and hope)) to be your genun

You:

geuine

You:

gennuie

You:

genuine

You:

feelings, I cannot accept an invitation in the form of a text message. I must be wooed.

You:

lady Fuu says "if you are capable of such things"

You:

pls don't fire her she's a good boss and so nice

You:

[picture from XX/XX/XXXX @ 2:14 AM]

...

The next morning is hell. Hell. You wished you had undergone your requested lobotomy. It certainly feels like someone has stuck metal rods into your brain, with the migraine pounding the back of your eyes. Maybe a hangover this bad is somewhat equivalent to a lobotomy. Your memory of your night prior is... cloudy, to say the least. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you manage to down a glass of water and a handful of peachy-colored pills. You speed walk to the Divination Commission, shooting Fu Xuan an apologetic “sorry, running late, forgive me 🙏" text. 

You mentally pat your drunk self on the back. After you sent your... rejection (ouch) to the General, you muted his messages and deleted the thread. No evidence, no way to feel awkward about it sober. And no way to dwell on it either. Besides, you hardly remember what you said to him after your last glass of wine. It’s hazy in your memory.

It was... perhaps a foolish way to go about things. You certainly could have approached the General and talked about it, but he sometimes spoke in circles about matters of the heart. Maybe... maybe you felt too fragile to dance that dance, if it came to that. Maybe, you were a bit overwhelmed by his invitation. You know all too well that he does not let himself be pursued. He does not pursue others. 

You feel blind-sided by the whole thing.

But that doesn’t matter— because you cleanly rejected him and your only repercussion is a hangover that you’re sure Fu Xuan is twinning. 

And besides, it’s better that you rejected him. He’s of such a high— highest station. He wouldn’t have time for you, surely. You... have gotten used to your entirely and completely platonic, twice-a-month lunch dates and the occasional star chess lesson (where he never lets you win but you swear you'll give him a run for his money.) But it's fine. You can let go of those things, along with your feelings for the General.

It's better this way.

You think these thoughts somewhat confidently until you arrive at the Divination Commission and find a crowd swarming the central platform under the Matrix of Prescience Ultima. Frowning, you try to weave through the edge of it to your office, where you conveniently have a few nutrition shakes stashed away that you most certainly need. You’re already late and this hangover needs to go. You have a full docket for the day that you need to make fuller so you don’t think about—

You nearly stumble when you hear a rich, familiar, roll of laughter. You freeze, slowly turning to the sound. A crown of fluffy hair peaks above the small crowd, a red ribbon waving in the breeze.

Absolutely fucking not.

You duck, just in case, and try to creep below the crowd. You probably look ridiculous, but you absolutely cannot see Jing Yuan. You can’t. Your poorly-thought out, hungover plan of not caring about the General does somewhat heavily rely on not seeing the man. You trip over over your own feet and barely catch yourself so as to not tumble to the ground.

Jing Yuan calls your name and 

You freeze before jolting to your full height a moment later. The gaggle of your coworkers part enough so that you’re able to see him— lit so well and handsomely in the morning sun, smiling so easily with... perhaps a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips. 

He waves with his free hand, while a massive bouquet is pillowed in the crook of his arm.

The flowers are beautiful— off-ship exotics, clearly. The colors are all bright oranges and vibrant blues. Thinner stems are topped with bundles of white, delicate flowers that break the barrage of colors. They look fresh, like they’d been cut this morning. Fu Xuan stands next to him, clearly hungover herself and close to popping a blood vessel. It’s incredibly rare that the General do anything in the mornings, especially causing a commotion in the Divination Commission. 

Jing Yuan, who is more than likely aware of this, looks entirely unbothered. Actually, he glows as he calls your name, gentle and rich, and the sound of it hits you in the chest, “There you are.”

"Here I am." You're not. You need that lobotomy. You nod to him curtly, "General. Is there something I can help you with today?"

Fu Xuan looks like she’s going to expire right there on the platform. 

Jing Yuan cocks his head knowingly, “There is, yes. I have a rather personal matter to discuss in private with you. Are you available?”

You have things on your schedule. You can make yourself appear busy, if it means not dealing with the General you can’t really hide from and the beautiful bouquet in his arms. “Well—”

“They’re free.” Fu Xuan all but pushes you toward him. You regret covering her tab the night before. “Especially free, since I’ll be rescheduling our weekly meeting to tomorrow.”

“Is that really necessary—?” You laugh and wring your hands. You feel caught in the worst way. “General, will this personal discussion take much time? I am quite busy today—”

Jing Yuan, who has been watching your exchange with Fu Xuan wordlessly, looks a bit... crestfallen. It’s hard to tell on a man who holds himself like the General, but it’s there. A crease between his brows that’s slight, but visible and abnormal. Maybe he’s holding the bouquet a little tighter than he probably thought. There’s a sheen of sweat on his temple that, if asked, he would probably blame on the heat index for the day.

Your words die in your throat as you take him in and force yourself to meet his gaze. Honeyed and sad, a bit like a kicked dog.

“... I suppose, I could arrange a proper appointment with you. Perhaps it was uncouth of me to expect such accommodations to be made for me last minute. I apologize.” You can hear his tone change. It may be imperceptible to someone else, but you notice the shift in him. Gone is the playful lilt and air of mischief, on his a veneer of niceties that you... had forgotten he loses around you. 

Something in your chest aches.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Floundering. Jing Yuan adjusts his hold on the bouquet—

“Enough of this.” Lady Fu shakes her head. She shoos a hand toward the lingering onlookers. “Back to work, now. Don’t eavesdrop either. I’ll know if you do.”

(Debatable, but it’s Fu Xuan’s favorite threat.)

Once the crowd has dispersed, she turns toward you too. You needed that lobotomy, like, yesterday. 

“I will make the necessary changes to your schedule so you can speak privately for as long as you need." She points at you, then Jing Yuan. “Sort this.”

The General raises an eyebrow at her. She’s bold to speak in such a way to someone above her own station, but Lady Fu doesn't dare back down. She glares at him, then you, partially covering her mouth to block Jing Yuan’s view before mouthing, “FIX THIS!!!!” 

...

On the way to your office, you walk side by side, in silence. You’re trying to think of the right words to say.

“... Are you sure you have time for this, General?” You ask him, softly. “I don’t mean to ask as a slight— just— I don’t want to inconvenience you is all.”

“Of course.” He replies easily. You turn down the long, quiet corridor that leads to your office. It’s tucked away in a corner of the divination Commission, facing outward toward the Arbor’s stump with tall windows providing a sunlit view. You’re glad you don’t have to look at him as you unlock the door with a thick-looking key. “This is a rather pertinent, time-sensitive matter we’re discussing. My own schedule is not consequential in this case. Haste, moreso.”

You laugh under your breath.

“Great Lan, Qingzu is going to kill me.” You sigh before pushing the door open with a shake of your head. Perhaps a smile curls on your lips. Who’s to say. “Did you at least not leave a pile of paperwork for her to delegate in your stead?”

“And what, diminish the time I have for my afternoon nap with busy work?” Jing Yuan laughs. The sound fills you from the bottom up and you want to choke on it. You tear your gaze away from him. “Such a thing would be unhealthy, you know. I’m an old man.”

“An old man who needs an ample amount of beauty sleep.” You tease him, it’s easy to. You speak before you even have a chance to think about the warm nature of your words. The meaning behind the bouquet in his arms that he still hasn’t given to you. 

Why Jing Yuan is in your office at all. 

“... If this is about my texts my last night—”

“It is, partially.” Jing Yuan hums. “I’m afraid I’ve slighted you, and it’s of the utmost importance I correct my transgression.”

 “That’s— That’s not necessary, General.” Your cheeks burn. 

“It is. Entirely, in fact. Stating my intentions with you over text messages was... a poor choice on my part. I must apologize appropriately, don’t you think? 

“I mean— that’s—” Your words flounder in your mouth. “Kind of you.” 

It is kind of him. He certainly doesn’t need to be here, in your cramped office, with a bouquet that costs close to what you make in a day of work. He doesn’t need to be showing a sincere, lovesick smile as he speaks. He’s showing you a card he’s kept close to his chest. One you, perhaps, guessed he had, but hadn’t intended to ever see.

He presents you with the bouquet, “You said you must be wooed, and I am here to begin that process explicitly.”

"... I said what?" You’re going to burst into flames. 

“I thought you may not recall your exact words. Did you and Lady Fu have a fun night together?” Jing Yuan chuckles, and you flush so hot you feel almost faint. “You said that I must, and I quote, ‘woo you’.” 

He smiles at you, the glint in his eye a bit more mischievous. More knowing. He’s toying with you. 

“I— no— I’m so sorry, General.” You cover your face with your hands and back into your desk. “Forget I said that. Please forget I said anything.”

“Please, use my name.” He corrects, gently. “I’d prefer not to forget. You have a point, I should have stated my intentions clearly and to you in person.”

You peek at him between your fingers. He still holds the bouquet out to you, like he’s trying to lure a cagey cat in for a pet rather than make a confession. You feel out of sorts. Off kilter. That said— it is nice to hear him in person. Your heart has been oscillating between fluttering and pounding. 

Jing Yuan tilts his head sweetly at you. You take the bouquet from him and examine it closer. There’s yellow and lilac pollen dusted on the filaments, fresh and fragrant. 

“Jing Yuan, then.” You reply to him, softly. It’s hardly the first time you’ve called him by his name, rather than a title, but he preens when you speak regardless. “... So, you intend to woo me then?”

“Entirely.” Jing Yuan hums to himself, looking quite proud. “I do fully recant my offer I sent previously. Though I would be happy to lounge with you in the terraces and see some lovely views, I’ve secured a reservation for this evening at a lovely restaurant in the Exalting Sanctum, if you would accompany me.” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly.  You can’t help the little smile that’s twitching over your lips. You take care to not crush the bouquet in your arms, despite the urge to squeeze it to your chest, just to tamp down the thumping of your heart. Stroking your thumb over the silken petal of lush, round-petaled bloom, you let yourself smile. 

You can practically hear Jing Yuan holding his breath. His eyes look hopeful and young. 

“I accept,” you reply. “Consider me wooed.”

“It was that easy?” Jing Yuan’s voice takes that air of smugness that you know is a farce but you still can’t help but to approach him and bat your hands at his chest.

“I already like you, you know,” You laugh. “I was more offended that you wouldn’t face me and tell me your intentions. I hardly know the General to be a coward. I was a bit slighted.”

Jing Yuan catches your wrists in one of his hands and gently holds them against your sternum. His fingers lay over the thump of your heart; you wonder if he can feel it. You feel pleasantly woozy when you meet his eyes and all their intensity. Intention. 

“I apologize.” He speaks smoothly, easily. Perhaps ducking his head down to be closer to your own. “It’s quite difficult to proposition someone so beautiful and kind.”

“Ah, so the General was hiding behind a screen, then?” You laugh over the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

Jing Yuan hums, and you pop up on the corner of your desk. He’s close enough to feel the heat of him, and see the threading of his uniform and the glitter woven into the rich fabrics.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with cowardice.” Jing Yuan shakes his head. His breath is warm over your cheeks. “I planned to tell you my intentions of courting you at the Terraces, once you accepted. I, perhaps, was too presumptuous in expecting you to assume beyond my initial ask. I should have been more clear.”

You stifle a laugh and flex your hands, still held in his firm, but kind grip. 

“Jing Yuan, if you continue to speak to me so directly, I’ll demand you take me out now and not this evening.”

“Is that so?”

“Entirely.” You struggle to maintain eye contact and not let your gaze drift down to his lips. “I’m not used to you speaking so clearly, only your riddles.”

“What riddles?” He tilts his head, curly, a sweet smile on his face that is far too mischievous for who he is expected to be.

“Oh, you know—”

“Do I?” Jing Yuan asks. He steps between your thighs, the width of him forcing your legs wider. As if your flush could be any more intense. “You must tell me more over lunch. I’ll send a message to Lady Fu and clear your schedule?”

“... She did say to take as long as we need to sort this,” You soften, a bit intimated, if only for a moment. “Is this sorted?”

Jing Yuan hums, “You did say you were wooed. I’d consider that fairly sorted.”

“And you’ll have me?” You ask him, daring to slide your arms over his shoulders. The contact bubbles up months of tension over Star Chess boards (during games that, perhaps, were not entirely platonic). 

“I’d be honored.” Jing Yuan’s voice sounds sweet, more quiet than you’ve heard before, like it’s just for you to hear. 

There’s an edge to it all still— something raw and new that will need to be tempered. That is the nature of immortality and the relationships and partnerships that come with it. Complexes develop, heal, and grow differently within the self. You’ve already gamed out a few of Jing Yuan’s (a cursed Master who he will only reference in melancholy, unrequited love he was too young for, so many tragedies that he somehow manages to give himself for not preventing). He is perceptive. You’re sure he has put together some of yours as well. 

For now, there’s a promise of good things. There’s the feel of him pressing his lips to yours, gentle but unyielding, strung with a mutual yearning that, in retrospect, would’ve been a shame to crush and hide away. There’s the warmth of him so close, and closer still when you drag him closer by the nape of his neck.

You can feel his grin against your lips, and you mirror it easily.

No riddles, only a fragrant bouquet and intention. 

[greatbigbellies]

I'm glad to be a transfem with a squishy tummy and you should be too. Your belly is genuinely attractive and beautiful and amazing. Whether you have a belly kink or just need some body positivity, I love your chubby tummy, and the rest of you!

[chromaherder]

Byler week day 4: Summer Love During which Mike vows to never do sports again after swallowing a good handful of salt water.

[vaguely-concerned]

shathann fucked up in so many ways with raising taash but she also makes me. so so SO sad. welcome back deeply flawed dragon age mother figures in various shades of 'well. I mean you tried. I guess' (from 'not at all' to 'I can see what you thought you were going for at least' as appropriate) we tango once more

[zehl0w]

Very messy scribble of a comic because they were on my mind (I doubt I’ll ever clean it up so I’m just posting it now so it doesn’t rot in my procreate files LOL)

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[sysig]

An eye for a life, unquestionably worth it (Patreon)

[mystxmomo]

OC interview tag

(answer the questions for your OC as if your character were answering them)

I got tagged by @mogruith. I love being included, thank you for including me and letting me write in a character voice.

Enclave time.

== For the sake of simplicity, the interview is taking place in her preferred Tongue: High Drow. ==

Are you named after anyone?

"No. Not to my knowledge," She's quiet, though after a few seconds, she snorts and says, "Honestly, if my mother had it her way, I probably would not have been named at all. But alas. To the misfortune of everyone involved, I sit before you today all the same."

When was the last time you cried?

She does not look like she has any interest in answering this question, and in fact looks a little baffled that you asked her?

"Mm. No."

Do you have kids?

"Well, I suppose that depends! Are we limiting this to children who are alive, or will dead ones suffice in consideration?" Despite her tone, she does seem a little unsure as to whether people consider their dead children as still being... their children, and so it is clarified to her that yes, she should consider her dead children as part of this. She gives a long exhale, as though that's something rather tedious to be doing, but considers it all the same, "Ah. Well. I have had four, however none of them made it out of the underdark. Put bluntly, only one really survived until adulthood..."

She trails off, looking a little troubled.

Worth mentioning, of course, this is not considering the adopted child she has that she does not consider her child despite the author absolutely considering him her child

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

With the flattest expression imaginable, "No."

This... seems to be a joke? It's a little hard to tell.

She pours more wine into her goblet.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

"How attached they are to their weapons," She doesn't look up as she says this. It's the first question she seems to answer without needing to put much thought into it, "And how visible those weapons are, I suppose. It does not matter how kind you are when your hand sits next to your blade for most of the conversation," Enclave looks off to the side. Her own blade remains unseen, however is undeniably within reach, "I suppose I cannot fault anyone for being suspicious, though. Lest I be a hypocrite within the framework of my own standards."

Scary stories or happy endings?

"I am not really a .... story... person..." She looks a little apprehensive. Unlike the other questions she'd skipped over, she does offer this some amount of consideration, rolling the goblet between her fingers as she does, "If I had to make a choice, I would still say neither. I prefer stories grounded in reality, and reality tends neither be so kind or straightforward in the tone of it's ending."

Then, she mutters to herself, "Besides. There is nothing more irritating than a bard who dramatizes for the sake of performance."

Any special talents?

"I have many. I have none I am willing to share."

Where were you born?

"The Underdark. It does not matter beyond that."

Again, this is something she otherwise has no interest in expounding upon. Even when further pressed on the matter, she just offers a blank stare in return.

Do you have any pets?

"What? No. With the kind of life I lead, why would I?" Her lips thin in disdain and she rubs her eyes.

She does not consider the stray cat she feeds when she's in town as being her pet, even if everyone else around her absolutely would.

What sort of sports do you play?

"... I have never been the sort particularly inclined towards sport, and was fortunate enough to have the luxury to avoid those," Her idea of sports being largely influenced by her time within the outskirts of drow nobility and the bloodsports they indulged in, she seems rather concerned with the question. Even after clarification that the question probably means less "blood" and more "ball", she only offers;

"Ah.." and, "I suppose I prefer to rest when I have the chance. I spend too much time on my feet as it stands."

The pun seems intentional, though her expression does not break when she says it.

How tall are you?

".... 5'0"

What was your favourite academic subject?

"...." She momentarily looks like she's going to need further clarification on this. But she does not ask for that clarification.

"History. Not what was taught, but what was true," She traces the rim of her glass, her gaze far-off, and rather distracted seeming, "... I suppose if you wanted a straightforward answer, I was always inclined towards the arcane. A shame, really. Being so invested in the arcane continues to reflect poorly on my character."

What she means by this, we are unsure.

What is your dream job?

"Anything besides what I'm fucking doing now," She says, switching to common to answer that. Not unlike earlier, though her expression doesn't change, this also seems to be a joke. She grabs her head, rolls her eyes, and with less venom to her tone eventually finishes by saying, "... I did quite like being a teacher. I would love to do so again one day, under kinder circumstances."

...

Tagging @bluejeanne & @mmigrainee, if you want to talk about your oc's. And anyone else that wants to be included.

[dumb-doll-lips]

Maybe controversial, but on posts about being dumb where girls are like saying ‘but I’m actually smart.’ Like tbh, I don’t really believe them. Like if you’re smart why does feeling dumb feel so good or hot or whatever to you then? I kinda feel like it’s having an excuse to let go of trying as much as you would be when you’re saying your smart. If you’re like really actually smart, I don’t feel like a break from ‘being smart’ would be such a relief or like as appealing.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

god i just imagined,, getting all cozy with moon on a chilly day in autumn, and watching over the garden wall. i think he’d really like it

[hawkp]

Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?

[kirakewpie]

daydreaming about sunday past when i was feeling really little and my mommy let me practically fall asleep in her lap while she held me ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა she was rubbing my back and petting my hair and calling me her cute little girl and there are pink hearts floating around my head just remembering it 💖💖💖

[scionshtola]

i think shtola is actually a bit annoyed with cori during her pining years. and i think she thinks it’s kind of undignified to be in love at all and yearning for someone. it’s why she denies it even though everyone can tell. i think this is balanced by her confidence though that if cori hadn’t been in The Gauntlet for the past 3 years they would already be together

[harmoniouseclipse]

Me and my freaking ship charts for my freaky mind

[sysig]

Utterly Defeated (Patreon)