#hopefully it isn't cringe

[bokettochild]

According to my sister, rabbits feel safer when they can’t see.

Just something I thought I’d share :3

Well I WAS just going to coo and give some sort of answer, but this is a rabbit thing and I have a weakness and had some free time sooo......

How about a very barely relevant fic based around a story I heard as a kid and barely remember + this particular idea?

Full fic under the cut

The Selkie King

  There are many times it's easy to forget how young his fellow heroes are.  

  As a soldier, the Hero of Warriors has seen boys and men alike on the field, fighting, dying. He's held many a hand in final moments, his own still stained with blood more than not as final words and regrets are spilled to him by grizzled veterans and terrified teens.  

  Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that one of his brothers qualifies under both of those titles.  

  He tries not to see the other heroes like he does his soldiers. Tries to remember them as people and not pawns. It’s hard, after so many years tipping back whiskey to forget the humanity of those he’s had to slay, trying to retrain his mind to seeing others coldly, to remove emotion from his dealings with those who fight beside or against him on the field.  

  It hurts, getting attached.  

  He’d made the mistake countless times. Some, he regrets, others, like Mask and Tune, he’d never think twice about.  

  Still, even with his brothers, even with no regrets given for having let himself care about them; cry for them and treasure them, it’s easy to forget certain realities. It’s easy to forget, when he sees them with weapons in hand and blood dripping from crown to toes, that half of them are merely children themselves, and those who aren’t were hardly even adults when fate stole their lives from them and burdened them instead with the lives of all of Hyrule.  

  It’s easy to forget that Sky is hardly old enough to be served in a bar, that Twilight is still stumbling through the early years of his twenties. It’s easy to forget that Four and Hyrule are innocent to many of the greatest evils of the adult world, or that Wind- pirate or no- is still only just starting to go through the joys of puberty. It’s easy to forget that even for all of his scarring, Wild is still just barely learning how the world even works, in many ways still a child in his mind even if his memories, what few there are, are those of a man and a soldier.  

  Time, it’s harder. Time, he still remembers holding in his arms, rocking the kid to sleep because the motion helped, because the promise that he was still small enough to be held to begin with was a precious assurance the poor boy needed to feel secure enough to close his eyes. He’s wiped tears and wrapped injuries and tucked the now older hero in so many times that the child in his mind in many cases has blocked his vision of the man his son has now become.  

  And then there’s the vet.  

  Legend isn’t like the other heroes. He’s distant, reserved. There’s almost nothing they know about him save that he carries an arsenal fit for a whole battalion and knows more magic than the lot of them could ever hope to see performed.  

  He knows the veteran hero as a powerhouse and a threat.  

  He holds the vet at a distance, just as Legend does with them. Out of all of their group, the pink haired hero is the one with the least to share and the most to say. He's quick to redirect, to refocus, to tease and quip and jest, and despite all, he’s still capable of holding them away from himself with a wariness that makes the captain wary in return.  

  He’d like to claim that that is why it takes so long for him to realise. He’d like to claim that he'd been distracted by all the red flags, too much to see the similarities. No one would blame him if he’d claimed that his concerns were what prevented him from seeing the truth, but Warriors won’t lie to himself; he just didn’t look close enough.  

  It’s a night at an inn that opens his eyes. Twilight, Time and Wild usually room together. In a group of nine, it makes sense to get more than one room, and to keep it fair, they have three in each when they can. More often than not, he pays. Unlike his brothers, the captain has a steady salary, and the princess is personally financing his investigation into this increase in monster attacks, so while Legend may claim he’s broke, he does have a hand in the royal purse to use at his discretion. Providing beds for his brothers when they can find them is no issue. Tonight, that means that the wolf trio has their own room. Wind had insisted on having Four and Hyrule room with him, claiming they rarely got a chance to be alone and “without adults” and honestly, Warriors gets it. He trusts the sailor, and he understands the need for space. Granted, rooming with Legend of all people isn’t his first choice, but at least Sky will be there as well, and at least the Chosen Hero is someone they both can get along with, even if neither of them truly have much fondness for each other.  

  Honestly though, he’s not all too picky about where he lays his head. It’s been a long day, and he’s soaked to the bone, as are they all by the heavy rainfall currently going on. Time says it’s normal for spring in his world. Warriors doesn’t care. There’s mud all up and down his boots, his clothes are clinging to him and Nayru knows the combination of chain mail and rain isn’t pleasant for any of them.  

  At the least though, Legend’s been quiet today, so maybe there won’t be any hang ups. Hopefully. All Warriors really wants right now is a bed and a change of clothes. Well, he’d like more, but realistically speaking, he’d settle for just a bed and something dry to wear, neither of which are much of a hassle. Getting out of his wet things is a bit of a struggle, and chain mail wasn’t exactly designed for one to be taking off and putting on alone, but Sky is a blessing to Hyrule in general, and the man lends him a hand that Warriors willingly returns while Legend does whatever he does in the background.  

  He’s just tugging on a new shirt, dry, clean, and only minimally stained with blood, when the first flash of thunder rolls over the inn.  

  Sky flinches. “I hoped that wouldn’t happen.”  

  “Unavoidable I’m afraid,” he consoles, clapping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “No worries though. It’s distant.”  

  Another roll sounds over them.  

  “It’s moving though,” he muses, the first bolt of lightning flashing across the window and sending strange shadows dancing over the dimly lit room that has only a simple fireplace for both warmth and light. And Hylia knows it gives precious little of either. Ah well, the beds are soft. “Travelling towards us, I think.”  

  “Wonderful,” Sky drawls, shucking his tunic and then going about peeling off the first of his undershirts. “Just what I wanted.”  

  He chuckles, meeting Sky’s rueful smile before moving to settle on his bed. He’s not tired yet. Well, bone tired actually, but his mind isn’t ready for sleep and he’s rather inclined to fill out his daily report and maybe enjoy some poetry before actually getting some sleep.  

  He has the chance for neither. Another clap of thunder sounds and only seconds later there's a bolt of lightning that paints everything, from the bed to the walls to the floor to the ceiling, to their crumpled clothes on the floor, in cold white light.  

  Legend starts.  

  The vet’s been a wreck all day, predicting the storm by the ache in his joints alone and watching everything like a hawk. He's been tight lipped too, more so than usual, and not even his characteristic quips and barbs made an appearance as they wandered down soaked paths and sloshed through mud and mire in order to make it to the closest town before nightfall. Warriors hadn’t thought much of it besides that maybe the vet might just be in a lot of pain, but now he’s given a chance to think differently.  

  Now, Legend starts like a cat whose tail has just been pulled, and, in a motion that honestly surprises the war captain, the vet’s first action is to cover his eyes.  

  “Vet?” It’s Sky who asks it, but they’re both staring. Trained warriors watch every sudden motion, but that one had been... strangely out of character. “You okay?”  

  There isn’t an answer, but when the next rumble sounds, he knows he sees the vet tremble.  

  It’s.... startling.  

  Not the storm, Hylia knows he’s seen his share of those over the years. A storm like this isn’t even the worst he’s seen, but the vet... cowering- honestly there’s no other word to be used- it's... it’s odd.  

  “Legend?”  

  A shuddering breath is his answer, the soles of gnarled hands being pressed ever closer to tightly shut eyes, and suddenly the captain is stuck by the fact that Legend looks very, very young.  

  The vet is small, they all know this. He's the third shortest in the group, with only a literal child and someone with confirmed stunted growth ranking below him. They don’t have an age, but he’s always assumed, based off of skill and sarcasm, that Legend must be at least in his twenties, if not a bit older. When standing beside Sky, he seems older, beside Time, he’s just as seasoned and strong. Here on a bed in an inn, with lightning and thunder joining the cacophony of rain outside though, he looks like a kid, eyes hidden in his hands and breathing ragged.  Warriors can’t name what it is, but he looks like Mask.   

  “Ledge, hey, you alright?” Sky stares at him for the softened voice, well used to an exchange of heated barbs and insults, but the captain hardly takes note as he crosses from the bed that he’d fully intended to stretch out on to the one the vet sits on, curled up tight and trembling. “Vet, hey,” he’s gentle when he brushes fingertips over slight shoulders, and it’s shaking to realise how small the vet feels when he’s actually touching him.  

  The title says it all, paints an image of an adult with years under his belt, but the Hero of Warriors tends to forget that many of their number start young, and experience may be one thing, but it’s no promise of age.  

  “Hey there,” his voice is dropping soft and low without his consent, but he can’t help it when Legend flinches back at the mere brush of his fingers, and when he settles himself on the bed beside and the vet shifts away, he knows the change of tone is for the best.  

  Sometimes, people who distance themselves aren’t plotting and scheming. Sometimes, people who shy away from transparency are hiding, protecting themselves in the only way they know how. That's how Mask had been, hiding behind masks both physical and metaphorical, sharp tongue and acerbic wit defences against loss and heartbreak.  

  He’s struck, sitting there, that perhaps the same could be said for others in their number.  

  “Legend,” he tries again, and then there’s another flash and roll, right overhead this time, and the vet freezes.  

  “Oh,” Sky breathes, his own lightning scars still on full display as he pauses midway through changing, his own eyes wide as he watches the hero who’s gone from distant and inscrutable to small and childlike in what seems to be the blink of the eye- or, if one wanted to be more direct; a single clap of thunder.  

  It’s instinct that has his body moving before his mind has quite caught up to what he’s doing with the brother who he knows the least, hands catching slight wrists and dragging away, holding even as breath hitches and shoulders tremble. They cease though when he settles his own hand, so much bigger in comparison, over tightly shut eyes. He can feel the flutter of lashes against his palm, surprise evident as the other pauses, seems to miss entirely the next clap in favour of registering the new situation. Warriors takes the stillness as an invitation, settling closer, hand holding its place, pressed gently but close against freckled skin, blocking out light to the best of his ability.  

  “Okay, that helps, yeah? Okay, I’m moving closer now, alright?” And he does. Legend says and does nothing but sit there, but he feels the twitching under his hand and watches ears swivel towards him as he moves closer, leg brushing thigh as he moves as close as he considers safe, hand still held still and solid as his own ears track ragged breaths.   

  He's acting on impulse alone. Mentally, he’s questioning what the dickens has gotten into himself.  

  Legend stiffens further at the close proximity, but pressing a bit firmer, hand held closer, seems, somehow, to make that stop.  

  “There we go. You good, mate?”  

  A light shudder.  

  “Legend?” Sky murmurs, tugging his shirt on the rest of the way and starting closer towards them. The vet’s response is immediate, ears flicking towards him and head turning to face him, but Warriors, for some reason he can’t even begin to name- but which he thinks might be affiliated with Mask- prevents it. His hand tightens its hold again, the second settling on the other hero’s arm, just above the wrist but not confining, firm but not tight.  

  “Breathe.”  

  The order is obeyed.  

  “Sky is coming towards you right now,” because he’s now beginning to recognize the panic for what it is, and while apparently having his eyes covered helps, Legend still seems keen on being aware of those around him at all times. He’s still tightly wound though, so Warriors turns his attention on Sky as he continues to speak. “He’s going to sit across from us on the other bed, okay? He’s right here.”  

  Assure where people are, assuage uncertainties about actions, positions and behaviours, and provide some source of grounding. Or at least he’s pretty sure that’s what that therapist Zelda hired had recommended, before he’d stormed out and refused to come back anyway.  

  “I’m right over here,” Sky reaffirms, and it’s amazing to watch how the vet’s posture eases at the sound of the other man’s voice as Sky settles close, but not close enough to touch.  

  Legend’s breath rattles through the room again.  

  “Do you not like the storm?” It’s the size, he thinks, it must be the size. He knows that Legend’s a capable fighter and warrior, but the size and the shaking and the sheer childishness of the vet’s motion; covering his eyes against the storm, has a part of him that he’d tried locking away peeking back out and gentling his voice and hands.  

  A shudder is his answer.  

  “I’m lifting my hand now,” he says, just a moment before the motion is done. Legend’s breathing hitches, but when it’s the hand on his wrist that lifts, it starts again, although still shallow.   

  Huh.  

  “Now,” he continues, reaching blindly towards Sky, who watches him with confusion until he continues speaking “I’m going to have Sky hand me my scarf.”   

  It’s out of reach, on the bed he was planning on lying down on before, but Sky hands it over readily. It's still wet, but it’s honestly his trump card to help younger, shaken up heroes and while he’s never tried it with Legend, it’s worth a shot. The vet’s got to be younger than he assumed, and if the scarf works on Wild, there’s a chance that however old the other is, it could still work on him too.   

  “Can I bring it over here?” He asks.  

  Twisted fingers twitch, raising a bit, reaching out blindly. Legend makes no move to shake off his hand however, so Warriors doesn’t lift it. For some reason, he gets the impression that the lack of sight is somehow actually comforting.  

  “Okay,” he shifts a bit, hand holding over twitching lids but moving just enough for him to shift position, “I’m pulling it towards us, and I’m going to set it over your shoulders, okay?”  

  It’s telling that Legend doesn’t complain about him breaking down every motion and explaining it as he does it. Telling in a way he really doesn’t like. Just as telling though is the way the weight of the fabric, damp as it still might be, has the younger hero relaxing some, and on impulse the captain adds to the weight by settling an arm around thinner shoulders.  

  Legend all but sinks into him.  

  Oh crap. Yeah. It’s happening.  

  He feels like shit honestly. He totally missed a kid in his group, and he’s been treating them like an adult this whole time. It was a mistake with Mask, trying to respect his insistence that he was an adult and should be treated like one, but it’s more of one with Legend.  

  He can only imagine, based off of listening to the kids, what it’s like being a hero at a young age. His first adventure saw him nearly a teenager, and despite a demon at the end of the tracks, there had been fun and games and a trusted companion by his side the whole while. Not everyone has that. Legend is purported to have completed- at the least- six adventures, and he can only imagine what the laundry list of traumas associated must look like. Settling such a weight on young shoulders is a sure recipe for distrust and distancing.  

  Suddenly, the vet’s reservation around them makes a whole lot more sense.  

  And hurts more, because he should have noticed.   

  Thunder makes itself heard again, and while Legend doesn’t shift much, he still feels the other press just the slightest bit closer, head ducking and hand raising to pull his hand along after. There’s no need though, he’s already following along, arm wrapping just a bit tighter around slight shoulders even as he hums lowly. “Hey, shhh, I gotcha.”  

  “We’re here for you, Ledge,” Sky murmurs, voice rich and smooth and heavy, like caramel or honey. “Wars has you and I’m right here in front of you.”  

  Another shudder is followed by the slightest of nods; small, so as not to displace his hand.  

  “It’s a big storm,” the captain muses, shifting and finding himself strangely pleased when the teen beside him lets himself be shifted with him. “My sisters hated this sort of thing when we were small.”  

  He can feel Sky’s eyes, and Legend’s too in a more literal way; long lashes tickling the pads of his palm as dark eyes must flicker open. There’s no attempt made though to displace his hand, and until there is, he elects to leave it. Still, he can feel the unspoken question from them both, and he answers it without much undo delay.  

  “I have six sisters. Five younger and then my twin. You’ve seen her actually, but we didn’t get the chance to talk.”  

  “Six?” Sky repeats, blinking slowly.  

  The captain shrugs. “What can I say? My parents had quite the torrid love affair.”  

  The desired result of that statement (although true) is achieved, and while Sky only levels him with a look, Legend, like Mask and Tune before him, shudders, squeaking out some semblance of nervous and flustered laughter at the words.  

  Oh yeah, if stuff like that had the vet flushing red hot under his hand, it’s only further proof that the younger is, in fact, a baby.  

  “Yeah,” he continues, settling into the bed as best he can and rather wishing his back was to the wall or a headboard or something, “all of us have ‘L’ names too. Link and Linkle, Leah, Laura, Lyrica and Lillian- they're also twins- and lastly little Lila.”  

 “Your dad and mum have ‘L’ names too?” There’s not the usual bite to the jest, voice shaken and almost timid, but it’s a relief all the same, and proof he’s doing some good here.   

 He chuckles, looking down to the face settled almost against his chest, his hand covering dark eyes and blocking any sight of expression or thought that may have slipped through the cracks. “Yes, actually. Luke and Lynn Taylor.”  

  Any answer or reaction is lost as thunder rumbles through once more, and the vet under his hands cowers back at the sound.  

  Impulse once more takes the reigns. “Sound like the Selkie King really isn’t having it tonight.”  

  “The what?” It’s Sky that asks, but long ears twitch beside him and the face that was almost buried in his chest now raises again, his hand still over dark eyes even as lashes flutter open a second time, soft and whispering across his nerves like fairy wings, but in no ways hiding the clear curiosity of the younger.  

  It works every time.  

  “The Selkie King,” he says again, and then, “I’ll tell you the tale, but only if you let me actually settle here, I’m too old for hunching over like this, it’ll give me a widow’s hump.”  

  Sky scoffs. “You’re like twenty-two.”  

  He’s off by a few years but the captain doesn’t correct him.  

  Legend’s surprisingly pliable and let’s himself be tugged into the corner of the bed, walls on either side and blankets pulled up, both for warmth and for weight, although the captain says nothing of either, and with the younger pulled against his side, much as he’s done for sisters and sons countess times before, he explains.  

  “The Selkie King,” and goddesses, he’s got to fight at his accent at those words, half tempted to let it on through to add further to the sound of the story, which always sounds so much better in the tongue of the fae or those whose voices carry the remnants of their kind, “was a great powerful creature who lived in the seas to the East. The Selkie are a people who are neither man nor beast, or so they say, but both. A man who, with the donning of a coat of fur, will change into a seal to roam the seas at their deepest, most happy by the water and with eyes darker than night skies.” In retrospect, if he believed in selkies anymore, he thinks they’d have eyes like the vet’s; endless, dark, and always touched with some sort of emptiness or sorrow.  

  “Woah.”  

  He smiles as Sky’s awe, but more so at the settling of a smaller body against his own as long ears prick up but soft cheeks settle against his chest. His fingers slip just the slightest to accommodate, but he leaves his hand pressed where it blocks the next flash of lightning, and though the vet shivers at the next roll of thunder, he doesn’t start away.  

  Something inside wonders whether this clinginess is born of fear or loneliness, and he wonders, for only as long as he dares be silent, when’s the last time someone offered the veteran any form of friendly contact.  

  “Storms-” he continues, once he’s certain he can’t be silent any longer “-they say are caused because the sea and the wind stole from the Selkie King.” he drops his voice, low and almost whispered, like when he’d told the same story to wide-eyed little sisters before tucking them in with kisses and laughter and warm smiles that are long since forgotten. “The Selkie King is the most powerful of the Selkies. He’s said to be strong enough to fight the wind itself, and the seas must bow under his command. With a power like that however, it’s hard. Being strong is a lonely life,” and one his brothers will know well, and the heavy sigh that sounds from beside him is proof of that. “As such, he lived solitary for many years, watching man and his kind and walking among them, but finding none to be his queen and companion, until-” and here his sisters would squirm under the covers, big blue eyes sparkling up at him as they begged ‘till what, Link?’ but his brothers don’t do so. Sky cocks his head, a manner he’s certain is learned from Twilight, and Legend’s face turns up to him again, eyes still hidden, but neither speaks.   

 It makes sense, he supposes. They are Links after all  

 “Until” he continues “one day he came to an island he’d never seen, and met there a maiden with a voice to make any selkie rejoice, and eyes like the seas themselves, the sort the king could only find himself lost in. She had a soul like a bird, and a wish for the beyond, and unlike others who stared and saw the uncanny way of the selkie, she saw to the soul of the Selkie King, and it was in her heart that he found solace from the loneliness of the world.”  

 Sky’s eyes are misty, that distant smile in them that means he’s thinking of his own Zelda, and Warriors almost, like so many times before, lets himself change to story.  

 He doesn’t. The point is to give an answer to the roar of the sky and the fury of the lightning. It’s all fairy stories made to make the remnants of Demise’s fury less a terror to small minds, but there’s no age limit for fairy stories, as he well knows.  Still, few end in a truly happy manner.  

 “Life is cruel though,” and how cruel. He’s not told this story in some time but it’s now beginning to make his own heart twist up in memory of how deeply he’d felt similar things to what the Selkie King would as he continued. “As time passed and their love grew, the seas and the storms began to brew. They wished to rebel against the Selkie King who had tamed them, to make war with him, and though he had no wish to leave his maiden, he was called from the island beaches and her side to fight the sea once more, and the storms with it.   

 “The oceans rose in those days, the sky dark, much like tonight. All that could be heard or seen was the fury of the sea and the wind as the Selkie King sought to bridle them. He fought them, I know not how long, but when at last they were calmed, the Selkie King turned to return to his island and his maiden, only to find both sunk beneath the waves that had risen in his fight.”  

 There’s a shudder beneath his hands, and dampness touches his palm as long lashes once more stir against skin. It’s sad, he’ll grant. He’s not sure if Legend’s young enough to be crying at fairy stories, but he won’t judge. Heroes grow up too fast, and by his knowledge, they haven’t the time to let their minds and hearts age as they ought. He’s not about to judge a few tears at a sad story.  

 “The Selkie King searched and searched,” he continues, “but the sea had already taken away, in final vengeance, what he loved. They say,” and thunder rolls right as he speaks, “that the thunder is his shouts to the sky and sea for their cruelty, and the lightning is his magic, light surging across land and sea to light his search to find what was lost to him.”  

 “What about the girl?” Sky asks, looking startled himself at the turn of the tale, “what happened to her?”  

 His only answer is a wry smile. His sisters would ask the same thing the first time he’d shared the story his grandfather had told him growing up, but the answer is always the same: “she was lost to the sea, as though never there.”  

 He’s not expecting the sob, or the hand that clutches in his shirt as shoulders tremble and tears dampen the hand still held over eyes not unlike those of a selkie. At first, he thinks it’s just the panic catching up and hysterics taking over, but after the first few sobs are over and they just get stronger, the captain realises there might be more to it than that.  

 “Legend?”  

 There's no answer, only inconsolable tears that seem to flow without end, even as he lifts his hand for the first time in a while to try and wipe them away. The younger hero’s face finds its way to the front of his shirt near immediately after, and he’s left trying to hold his brother, clueless as to what he’s said or done to incite the new rainfall that drenches the one clean shirt he’d had.  

 “Vet?” Sky is starting up from the bed, but he doesn’t touch, likely aware that doing so unprompted and without warning isn’t a good idea right now. Warriors though, closer, is free to wrap his arms around trembling shoulders and meet sapphire eyes, questions unspoken flying between them as confusion clouds the air where agonised sobs and tears do not.  

 In the end, he elects to leave it be, soothing gently and running one hand up and down a spine he can count every bone of, hushing softly all the while until the tears finally run out and Legend is limp against him.  

 “I'm sorry,” he says at last, not sure what exactly he’d done wrong. “That one usually helps my sisters feel better about-”  

 “He wasn’t a selkie.”  

 The captain pauses. “What?”  

 “He wasn’t a selkie,” comes the soft words again. “He was mer.”  

 “It’s just a story, vet, he wasn’t-”  

 “They were real.” And it’s so desperately spoken that it stops all other assurance in his throat as a hand tightens in the front of his shirt. “Her name was Marin. She wanted to fly, she wanted to see the world. I promised I’d take her, I wanted to show her everything.” There’s something so broken about the vet’s voice, and when he looks down the eyes of the younger are still closed, but there’s clear agony on the face of his brother. “I didn’t want to destroy her; I never wanted it to fade.”  

 He has no context, no clue, but some part of himself, the part that remembers holding another young hero like this and listening to agonies and losses, knows that something said in the story, some part, has brought a memory or loss back afresh, and his attempts to sooth have only reopened wounds.  

 Warriors wraps his brother tightly in his arms, draping blue fabric over tighter shut eyes. “I’m sorry.”  

 “I didn’t know it wasn’t real until it was over,” the younger hiccups, “I- I wanted to live there forever. It was so... it was so peaceful!”  

 Somehow, that single word, and the agony behind it, stabs through a heart blocked behind stone walls and chain mail.  

 Why should a wish for peace sound so desperate from the lips of a child? What right have gods to burden someone so small with sufferings that would lead their greatest desire to be for something so devastatingly evasive?  

 It’s cruel. It’s familiar in its cruelty, and all that the captain hero can do is hold tighter still and murmur soft comforts that are as empty as the praises lauded on shoulders such as their own. “I know, Link, I know. It’s not fair.”  

 “I fought him three times,” and it’s naught but a whisper, “is it so wrong to want to be allowed to stop?”  

 He’s going to find Hylia and murder her.  

 Once is enough. Once is too much for a kid. Thrice? And twice as many adventures? Oh, no, no-no-no, he’s going to be having words with the Golden Gals when he gets to see them, even if that means fighting his way to the Goddess’ Realm himself. He’s sure he could convince the deity to help him under the right circumstances.  

 Aloud though, his answer is softer. “No. It’s not wrong. They’re wrong to ask so much of you,” words he’s whispered countless times to the hero who is now their leader. Looking at Time, he knows that peace has been achieved. The ranch, the wife, the beautiful home and satisfied smile, the longing look in his eyes after the days have been long since last they’ve visited; it all points to a life now granted chances to be lived and lived well. He only wishes the same could be meted out to all who’ve suffered as they have. “You deserve better,” he assures. “And for what it’s worth, I understand. Not everything of course,” and he’d never meant to tell, “but I get it. Losing someone, it’s hard.”  

 “I loved her.”  

 “I know.”  

 What sort of love, it doesn’t matter now. Be it puppy love or that of a far more intense sort, love is still love and when lost it can shatter. No wonder dark eyes hold longing deeper than the sea and desolation like the coldest of desert nights.  

 Sky stares but doesn’t speak or move.  

 Legend though, shifts, and dark eyes lift to him for a moment before being shut again as another flash disturbs the room. Without thinking, he raises a hand to cover the younger’s face, tears still fresh against calloused skin. Despite all this, the question in desolate eyes is still spoken aloud. “Who was yours?”  

 And his heart nearly stops, lodged in his throat, but he breathes and guides a pink haired head to settle against his collar, cheek resting in downy soft hair to hide further his face from both. “My wife and son.”  

 One trembling hand settles over his own, awkward in placement but intent clear. “I’m sorry.”  

 His smile is real, although pained, as he wraps his brother tighter, pressing, without thought, a kiss to a crown. “It wasn't your fault.” It was his own, his pride and his folly and his failure that had left him with his son ripped away and his wife turning her back. There’s none to blame but himself and fate’s cruel hand.  

 Despite this, there seems to be a word on the tongue of the younger, indeed, on Sky’s own too, but he cuts both off. “How about a lighter story?” he’s deflecting, he knows, but tonight is not about his losses and mistakes, and suddenly he’s gone from wanting nothing more than dry clothes and a warm bed to being content to hold one smaller and offer what meagre comforts and distractions he can while covering sorrow-ridden eyes and avoiding sapphire stares that bore with sadness for both himself and their little brother.  

 Legend hiccups. “Seriously?”  

 “I’m an excellent storyteller,” he returns, smile real but pained despite himself as he looks down at a face blocked by his own hand, “I’m a father and an older brother after all, I have no business being anything less than skillful with bedtime stories.”  

 “I’m too old for bedtime stories.”  

 He’d beg to differ. Someone still small enough to be held as he holds his brother is still of an age for bedtime stories, and he resolves to find the best he can to share. Not one about heroes though, or about lost love or Selkie Kings. Instead, he tells the story of the Goddess’ Rabbit and the stars it set in the sky. Instead, he holds a brother who he only now knows to see as anything more than another of Hylia’s soldiers, and he treasures the whisper of a chance to redeem some of what was stolen by fate.  

 Maybe it feels like redemption for himself too. Just a little bit.  

[sinningtamer]

(the answer is probably both reasons)

[scarlct-vvitch]

fic preview :)

pairing: (worst)wolverine/deadpool

just the first lil section under the cut! not completed yet but i'll take any thoughts while I chug away at the rest of it

The first night in Wade and Althea’s (who Logan refuses to call Blind Al, what the fuck, Wade) apartment is chaos. Wade, high on saving the world and, somehow, cocaine, invites everyone he can think of. Negasonic, Yukio, Laura, Dopinder, Vanessa, even Peter—they all show up and throw a near-end-of-the-world bash. The apartment barely can contain the two people who live there, and they squish in like sardines.

Logan sees immediately how comfortable they all are in Wade’s space. They tease, laugh, make idle threats to kill each other over the last cookie in the tupperware Yukio brought with her. Everyone takes turns carrying the uglyass dog around to make sure she doesn’t get stepped on, all cooing over her misshapen face like it’s fun to look at. It’s that tiny little picture brought to life before his eyes.

It’s completely overwhelming.

Logan spends most of it in one of their dining room chairs downing a steady stream of cheap beer. Laura spends most of the night in the chair opposite with a few drinks of her own. She even gets him to try one and laughs when his face scrunches up from the sugar. For the most part, though, she lets them sit in silence, something he’s grateful for. It gives him time to observe the rest of them. If he’s being honest with himself, though—and he rarely is, but this one is hard to deny—his eyes only follow one figure.

He gets it, now. Why Wade was willing to do so much for these people. When Wade gave him all those speeches about how much he loves them, Logan understood on an objective level, but in the back of his mind he thought Wade was just like him, an outsider trying desperately to hold on to any scrap of decency he could get. Wade was insane and violent and annoying. Even if he saved the world, who would ever stick around to hang out with him?

Now, seeing Wade with his friends, he’s willing to admit he was wrong. 

Wade is everywhere. He flies around the tiny space like—not a social butterfly, but maybe an extroverted gnat. He’s in everyone’s conversations, refilling everyone’s drinks, stuffing his face with snacks. There’s a look on his face that Logan hasn’t seen before. It takes him a while to realize what it is.

It’s relief. The knee-wobbling, delirious, giddy kind. Wade is almost painfully happy to have these people around him and alive and staying that way for a long, long time. It’s contagious; everyone he talks to gets that same smile, like there’s nowhere they’d rather be than in this matchbox of an apartment. He watches as Wade tells the story of their adventure for the tenth time, this time to Yukio and Negasonic in the kitchen, who are enraptured and disgusted, respectively. Wade gestures wildly the entire time, very nearly knocking everything off the counter behind him. That grin is still on his face.

“You’re smiling.”

It’s Laura. He’d kind of forgotten she was there. He takes a pull of his beer instead of answering, realizes that it’s almost empty.

“He’s weird, isn’t he?” Laura says to his silence. “Deadpool.”

Logan snorts. “That’s one word for it.”

She grins. “He’s nice, though, too. Don’t you think?”

He looks over at her. She’s pointedly keeping her eyes on Wade, but the look on her face is far too knowing for Logan’s liking. She’s sharper than he initially gave her credit for; it’s hard to believe someone that smart was related to him, even if tangentially. “Maybe if someone stitched that mouth shut.”

She rolls her eyes. “Then he wouldn’t be fun. You wouldn’t like him anymore.”

Logan watches as Wade ramps up to the end of the story—he’s making big explosion noises with his mouth. He suddenly catches Logan’s eye, like he could feel himself being watched, and without missing a beat, he winks. Logan needs something stronger than his beer.

“Who says I like him now?”

-

At some point between midnight and the sun rising, everyone makes their way out. The apartment looks like a tornado tore through it. Logan nudges some of the empty cups out of the way, puts his feet up on the coffee table, and tilts his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. He has never been so tired in his entire life.

Something fabric hits him in the face. He grunts and looks around to find Wade staring at him. “You look like shit, sugar-tits. Go to bed.”

Wade jerks his head in the direction of his own bedroom and waggles his eyebrows. The implication is clear enough.

“The couch is fine,” Logan says. He picks up the clothes from his lap - it’s a pair of sweatpants, dark red.

Wade pouts. “But—”

“No,” Logan grunts. He’s too tired to come up with anything else.

“Well, if you change your mind, my ungrateful peanut, my door’s always open.” Wade blows him a kiss with his free hand. Logan ignores it and heads for the bathroom to change.

Wade is gone when he comes back out, bedroom door cracked slightly open. Logan stretches out on the too-small couch. His feet stick out over the arm, but he doesn’t even care—being horizontal is heaven. It’s customary that the savior of the world gets to couch-surf for at least one night. He can worry about finding a new place to stay in the morning.

-

He wakes to someone bumping into his feet; he jerks upright and nearly decapitates Althea. He puts his claws away and mutters an apology.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just used the pullout bed.” She sighs. “One day I’ll meet one of those mutants with a brain, but not today.”

Logan stares. “The what?”

-

Wade sleeps in, so Logan makes breakfast at Althea’s request. He’s not a great cook, but he’s passable. Wade finally emerges just as he’s setting down plates of scrambled eggs and makes an obscene noise at Logan “looking domesticated,” which nearly gets him claws to the dick. 

The day is blissfully uneventful. The four of them lounge around the apartment watching some terrible dating show, only getting up for food, bathroom, or to take Mary Puppins around the block. Logan is naturally quiet, but Wade seems to not even understand the concept. He chatters the entire time about anything and everything and ignores all of Logan’s threats of violence if he doesn’t shut the fuck up. 

It’s more peaceful than any day Logan has had in the past year. Past decade, maybe. He soaks it in as much as he can. He must doze off at some point; before he knows it, it’s dinnertime, and then he’s extending the pullout bed (thanks for the heads-up on that one, Wade) and conking out. 

He’ll leave tomorrow, surely.

(hoping that giving this fic an audience gives me the motivation I need to get it over the finish line. thanks for reading :) )

[katyspersonal]

Lrb dear god, this reminded me of that time when Alfred-chan got sooooo mad at my post explaining why fans should respect bisexual headcanons for Maria and Malenia instead of pretending like they're canonically lesbians and that they get oppressed and erased by mxf ships with them. They kept vagueing that post for like a MONTH in their blog including in tags under reblogs of Maria fanart, passively-aggressively changed their url to character+sexuality to "spite" me and then even made a sockpuppet account to start shit with me in the comments.

They deactivated when me and Val completely obliterated their "you cultivate lesbiphobic following by telling people why they should respect all sexuality headcanons instead of acting cultish or assuming their experiences and stereotypes equal canon confirmation" garbage with actual facts and logic tho but I screenshotted everything fjthfgfj (I learned to document everything the hard way after they've changed the she/they pronouns to they/they pronouns ONLY to accuse me of misgendering, so thank you for making me wiser I guess 😎). Even more vile, as they, a white person, larped as an Arab in that sockpuppet to hold even MORE "privilege" against me in discussion gjtjfh Because for them race, gender or sexuality are just badges of honor and dishonor, they don't see these as traits of actual human beings. And Dr Eugene X, who worked with them and weaponized her race to accuse everyone who disagreed with her of racism, didn't bat an eye at such a terrible act too?? As usual, rules are not for their friends, lol

It is not even the worst thing Alfred did, and yet all of this just, just, JUST because I wrote a point on why bisexual headcanon people did nothing wrong and there is no ground to claim something is canon when it isn't. 🤦‍♂️ Like, they were soooo convinced that I hated lesbian headcanons and that I'd feel angry if they called Lady Maria a lesbian, when what I was angry at is this exact toxic behavior in the fandom. No matter how much you like a headcanon, don't be a bitch about it. Maria doesn't """belong""" to any gender or sexuality, she belongs to anyone who likes her and is invested in her complexity as a character!!!

Yet, apparently, common Malenia simps / Finlay shippers are no better than common Maria simps / Mariadeline shippers. Just, wild how after shit like this, many people have the guts to claim that it is "sexist redditbros" who are the biggest problem of creators in the fandom. 🤦‍♂️ They'd actually blush if they encountered what such self-proclaimed "feminists" do to their own (!!!) over headcanons. 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

[j-eryewrites]

Hellooo, will you continue writing for A Sinner's Redemption

I am! Don't you worry. Now that my health has improved and my university is out for the summer, I finally have the time and motivation to write again. Just to prove my words, here is a snippet from the next chapter (which I hope will be finished tmr)

꧁___________꧂ 

Piper bit her lip, and her eyes fell on Ellie's sleeping figure. "All I've ever…Have you ever thought you were cursed?" Joel shook his head. "I think I'm cursed. Actually, I know I am," Piper scoffed.

"Cursed?" Joel questioned.

"To kill." Piper pulled her arm away from Ellie and stared at her shaking hands. In the light of the fire they only grew more red; A dark red that seemed to seep underneath her skin. She shuddered. "It's all I was used for in the QZ. It's all I've known." She couldn't bare to look at her hands any longer, instead resorted shoving them under her legs. "I'm cursed to kill when all I want is to save…but I can't." her voice caught in her throat. "I can only save Ellie. She's all that matters. So, as long as I can do that, I'll be fine."

"Kid," Joel paused. "Piper." The sound of her name drew her attention. "You are more than a sister. You can want something for yourself that is outside of Ellie."

Piper scoffed. "Says you. You've been on and on about Tommy. What about you then? What is your dream outside of Tommy?"

"I-" Joel began to refute Piper's words, but something stopped him. She was right. He'd started this whole thing for Tommy: picked up the girls, lost Tess, danced with death, saw the impossible, and all for someone who could be dead. Piper and him were one in the same. As long as their family was safe and happy, so would they be. But as Joel really pondered her question, the dream of the farm came back into mind. The farm with the quiet sheep, the peaceful life. Except now this dream had room for more, yet Joel wasn't sure if there was room for his girls in the first place.  

"It's getting late," Joel remarked, standing up again to patrol. This time, Piper didn't refuse sleep. Instead, she let the silence close in on her as the warmth of the fire cascaded over her body. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of her chest, the rhythm to which Joel stepped as he guarded his girls from the looming horrors of the night.

꧁___________꧂ 

Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list for future updates (of if I missed you).

Tag list:

@angelmenace

@mimi-luvzyu

@d4rno

@lizlil 

@winterschildren17

@bartokthealbinobat

@sunsumonner 

@lovelyygirl8

@homeslices

@guacala 

@emsownuniverse

@thetiredtoad0-0

@galacticstxrdust 

@jackierose902109

@stilllivindue2spite

@cowboypascal

@opalmanic

@kitdjarin1

@auggiesolovey

@soldierheart

@opalmanic

@mattmurdocksstarlight

@elegantfacetree

@pookiesmookie69

@scoliobean

@millie-mei

@kodzuvk

@graciesbow

@cozyphine

@celsmsowb

@your-shifting-gurl

@lol6cats

@severussimp

@lainekyuu

@rannifer

꧁___________꧂ 

[gulliesforever]

Another parody song, you ask?

And not on time for the holidays?

Absolutely, I say. In the spirit of JandA. So... have the very creatively named Jakey Baby #2 – Santa Baby style.

@mr-whitebullet is my Jake once more :3 thank you again :3

Full GIF art under the cut!

[sassasafreeaction]

Guess what I started writing? I'm gonna shoot my shot on the fucking through the ages trope. I've started it at least. There isn't a lot and I'm hoping it's not totally cliche, but we're back at it again, boys (gn)!

It had been a slippery slope that saw Aziraphale, guardian angel of the eastern gate of Eden, here in Rome. Well, he supposed it wasn’t a completely slippery slope and more of the logical progression that came after handing off your Heaven assigned flaming sword to the first two sinners. The important part was that as time passed, he found himself on Earth, not so much stuck as studying, integrating even. 

Integrating came with all sorts of strange but often exciting firsts though, especially in Rome. The bathhouses for one, oh, those were splendid inventions. He loved lounging around in the water enjoying the steam and then the plethora of oils he could apply to his body after, all luxurious and sweet smelling. 

Wine had been another exciting first - at least initially. Swishing it around in his mouth, he could taste the different notes in it, parse it apart to the exact vineyard and vintage, relish in the bit of honey that might have been added. After several glasses (significantly more than it would take a human on account of his angelic constitution), there came that fuzzy feeling that clouded one's thoughts and made it feel like floating. Although Aziraphale tried to avoid that feeling when he could since his first time trying alcohol had led to him lying about in an alleyway after having gotten sick on himself. Multiple times. Then to make matters even worse, he had passed out and woken up the next morning with a splitting headache as if getting sick over one’s toga wasn’t bad enough.

Aziraphale’s favorite first in Rome though had been the food.

[enderina]

This blog rlly sucks ughh, I feel a bit ashamed of my old posts 💀

I was thinking of making a new blog or smth but i'm not too sure bc like, I had this one for like 2-3 years so idk,,, i'll have to think about it.

[mari-bon]

You know who you are

Ok so like your comments made really happy and you got me thinking about this reboot again so yeah

In the original plan there was gonna be one more update before a music video cause i still wanted this to be musical but the animation was taking too much time and honestly i lost interest

And now that so much time has passed i decided that it'd be faster if i just scrap the animation and just make the music video moving pngs cause if eddo is just moving pngs around (sometimes the pngs aren't even moving) then so can i

Hopefully i won't lose interest quick this time around and I'd at least finish a season ig

[foxgirlmoth]

I don't talk about this stuff on here pretty much at all, but a past relationship really broke a ton of bits and pieces of my brain and heart in weird ways (I'm finally thinking about him almost never but the shit he pulled was abusive as hell and still affects me sometimes). Being in love with my current girlfriends for a while felt almost. Painful? Almost like I should be ashamed I can fall so deeply in love with people, and especially how quickly that can happen sometimes too. Thats how it kind of felt. I tend to get overwhelmed with emotions if I'm feeling them very strongly, and that has been extremely embarrassing and also felt almost like I was being a burden to those I love (which love is the main emotion that can 'get dialed up to 11' for me). It IS debilitating in some ways!!! It hasn't gotten bad enough I've been nonverbal in a really really long time but that happened this past week and it was wild to me.

Things are getting better now though! Therapy in the past has helped, and honestly having such patient and understanding partners has made a world of difference ;w;. my wife is someone who was one of my best friends and I had a huge crush on and now I can ask for cuddles and we can nap together and I've fallen so much in love. Her and her presence are literally heaven for me, I don't know if anything has ever made me happier than just laying next to her and feeling her warmth.

Worries of course flare up and I feel like I need to lean on her a lot during those moments, but I don't feel like too much of a burden to her. I love seeing the posts that say stuff like 'Its okay to be a burden' or 'its okay to be annoying' because really truly I think I need to be those things to survive sometimes. I can be 'a lot' and I can be a little bit obsessive and those things aren't inherently bad or evil of me. I just make sure I'm feeling okay during and after and make sure I'm checking in on myself often. I'm a bit of a broken girl, but that doesn't mean I'm not extremely happy and living a life I love. I've written poems and everything about how it feels like it must hurt to love me and my broken jagged edges, but hey, even if it does a little bit, it doesn't mean someone like my girlfriend/wife won't go through a little bit of burden to love me, and I'm more than happy to return all of this and more for her as well if she's ever in need or feels broken ;^;

[branches-of-time]

It (was) that time of the year again!

[Genshin Impact 4.0 Trailer Reaction]

More than 2 months after filming this, I'm finally able to upload it! While I fully expect no one to watch it, such is the nature of starting anything new. Even though I'm very late to the party, I'm not letting the footage go to waste- if I've got it, might as well post it.

Above is the first 10 minutes of my reaction, but I spent another ~30 minutes going back through, pausing and giving further commentary on the trailer, and then let the rest of the program play out as well. If you're interested in watching any or all of that, you can follow the link to the full video on YT directly below!

[ddejavvu]

ur grandpa getting u a harry potter snow globe bc u mentioned it is so real mine got me a harry potter book end years ago dnfndndn <3

also hii sweet mei how r u?

i haven't read the books since i was eight and the only movie i rewatch is POA ('cause duh) but it's just My Thing now i guess like my aunt got me an origami book for it??? hello??? it would be endearing to me if terfy jkr wasn't profiting 😭

hi honey i'm okay! i've had some rough days this week but hopefully the weekend helps me recharge

[autistickaitovocaloid]

I don't know how to properly process this but like. I swear some of the posts of people going on about "sanitised people on twitter" are like. Users dogpiling on probably an actual child.

[draumstafir-blog]

litg s2 | saying nope | chapter 1

pairing: mc x noah

a/n: i gained a new hyperfixation which is love island the game!! imo, the game is very pg - seemingly written for younger teens - so i will be taking a crack at writing something more realistic(?) but only from the perspective of the show. so like the game, we won’t see anything about what the characters do in their outside lives.. i’ve never read fanfic about this game before; i don’t even know if people write any but.. this is my best attempt!!

-

you always had this attitude about life; that maybe if you treated everything like an experiment, approached everything with an angle, then maybe it would be funny to just observe as an outsider. for a long time, that’s what you were. but suddenly, that comforting level of detachment was about to disappear. since a friend dared you to audition for love island, and you did so just to see what would happen, but it seemed that the unimaginable is what happened. because you were somehow selected to compete in the show - as one of the original cast members, no less.

you worried about how you would be perceived; how the show would affect your reputation. but none of those worries paled in comparison to the prospect of winning £50,000. more accurately, £25,000, you told yourself. since no one ever seems to take the entire prize for themselves. but, since they let someone like you in this year, you reasoned that perhaps anything would be possible.

you kept that faint optimism in your metaphorical back pocket, as the first day of filming finally rolled around, and you found yourself strutting into the luxurious villa in your favorite little bikini. trying to look nonchalant, you looked down at the ground, catching a glimpse of your fresh pedicure in your beachy cork wedges. though, your aura of aloofness faded as you stepped inside, stopping at the first mirror you saw to fix your hair.

standing by the entrance to the living room, you heard a car engine approach, and shortly afterwards a slender girl sporting box braids and a vibrant bikini got out to greet you.

she seemed confident yet reserved, though you both squealed in excitement as you laid eyes on each other.

hope: hey! it’s so great to meet you! i’m hope.

her skin was deep with cool undertones that perfectly complemented her canary yellow eyeshadow. her arms were toned as she opened them to give you a hug.

you: i’m (Y/N). isn’t it crazy we’re the first ones here?

hope: babe, i almost fell flat on my face getting out of the jeep, i couldn’t contain myself.

you: hopefully later tonight we’ll be flat on our backs!

you and hope both erupted in laughs, though you silently cursed yourself for opening with such a crass joke. it would definitely become a meme, at least in your hometown.

you: so hope, what do you do?

hope: oh i’m a sales rep for mattel. my job is mostly just asking stores to carry our products, but it’s quite easy, not gonna lie. who doesn’t love barbie?

you: oh my god, that sounds like a dream.

hope: it is, to be fair. but i’ve become quite the workaholic, it’s kinda interfering with my love life, which is why i need something like this!

the clack of heels against the marble floor interrupted your conversation. turning to the door, you were greeted by a tall, pale figure with flowing pastel purple hair.

lottie: hey girls! i’m lottie, nice to meet you both.

you were immediately intrigued by her australian accent. most of her body was covered in tattoos and she wore a black strappy bikini, her side shave becoming noticeable when she turned towards hope.

hope: glad to have another girl here! i’m hope and this is (Y/N).

she reached out and gave your arm a friendly squeeze while she spoke. lottie was also quite outgoing and animated as she talked.

lottie: this villa is huge! i’m buzzing!

hope: yes! i’m well excited to go see the rest of it.

lottie: so, you girls looking for love or just a bit of fun?

you: well i’m definitely open to both. i’m kinda just seeing how this plays out.

lottie: ooh that’s such a good attitude. i came here with love in mind, but now i’m just looking forward to a summer full of making new friends!

hope: (Y/N), what was your love life on the outside like? any particular reason you auditioned?

you: kinda like you said before, romance just wasn’t on my front burner and things never really got serious with anyone.

lottie: yeah, all my ex’s were tools. the villa is gonna be such a breath of fresh air!

just as lottie finished, another girl walked through the front door. she was fair-skinned, with a long ginger braid and side-swept bangs. she donned a pink lacey bikini with accents of silver jewelry.

hannah: hello my loves, i’m hannah!

lottie: hey girl! hope, (Y/N), and i were just talking about men.

hannah: oh my gosh, what are your types?

hope: i like someone tall, dark, and handsome. can’t go wrong with that combo.

lottie: i totally get that. but in oz, everyone drools over the tanned surfer type, not my style though. i’m all about nice eyes. they’re the windows to the soul!

you: i don’t really have a type on paper. if he’s got a nice personality and the chat flows, i’ll give him a shot.

hannah: oh, i totally relate. personality is everything for me. i’m quite the old soul so i need a prince to sweep me off my feet!

you instinctively raised your eyebrows.

you: i don’t think love island is gonna be the fairy tale you’re looking for, hun. it’s a competition after all.

lottie let out a frustrated sigh.

lottie: it’s technically a competition but the friendships we make here are gonna last forever!

another set of footsteps opens the door with a creak and approaches the conversation. the group of you were suddenly met with a golden-skinned, curvy figure slightly shorter than you, although her heels were quite tall. her long, straight hair was bleached at the bottom for a macchiato-esque ombre look. she was wearing black thick-rimmed glasses with a white bikini.

marisol: hi all! i’m marisol.

hope: hey babes! i’m hope. this is lottie, hannah, and (Y/N).

marisol: you’re all so gorgeous! this is gonna be quite the summer.

lottie: i’ll say! now that the 5 of us are a happy family, we should think about putting the girls first. we should be a team!

you: i don’t know, we have to look out for ourselves too.

marisol: i agree! forming alliances is a sure-fire way to start drama.

lottie: we can talk more about it after we all couple up, but friendships are really important to me. it’d be nice to know we all have each other’s backs.

hope: speaking of coupling up, what are you lot most looking forward to?

marisol: well, it’d be nice to have my morning coffee delivered right to my bed.

the conversation paused as all of you collectively giggled. though, the nice moment was interrupted with the loud ding of a cellphone, which each of you were instructed to keep on the highest volume despite its headache-inducing noises. as lottie checked her phone, you saw her eyes immediately light up.

lottie: yes! i can’t believe i get to say it first!

she cleared her throat.

lottie: I GOT A TEXT!!

hannah, who was standing directly to lottie’s side, covered her ears and furrowed her brows.

hannah: we’re all in the same room, lottie.

lottie blushed sheepishly.

lottie: sorry babes, couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

islanders -

welcome to paradise! surely you know the way this game works. each of the girls will go out to the back lawn one-by-one where the boys are waiting! you may ask whoever fancies you to step forward, but you are free to choose whichever hunk your heart desires! crack on!

hannah: oh my goodness gracious, i wonder which one of us will get to go first!

right on cue, your phone sounded off in your hand. your fingers moving at lightspeed to enter the passcode, you eagerly managed to open the message.

(Y/N) -

you’re up first! go to the back garden and meet the boys!

you: looks like i gotta go.

hope: good luck, babe!

you waved to the girls amongst their choir of encouraging murmurs, turning and leaving through the open door to the backyard. there on the grass, 5 of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on were waiting in a line.

you: hi~

you waved to them whilst trying not to break your angles walking down the stairs. you were worried about coming off as too eager, so you refrained from being too flirty right off the bat. but as you stood in front of them, you quickly melted into a puddle of pink blush and tried not to look any of them in the eye.

trying to regain composure, you decided that speaking to them individually might help you decide.

you: alright, contestant #1, what’s your name?

perhaps you seemed confident, but you were internally quaking, hoping that being playful was the best approach.

the man standing before you loomed about a full foot over your head. his build was wide, his shoulders strong, and his ab muscles had just enough definition to constitute a 6-pack. his hair was bleached light blond, though his eyebrows and stubble were dark brown. he spoke quickly and assuredly.

gary: i’m gary, you alright?

you were undoubtedly charmed by his rugged, sort of “blue-collar man” demeanor. your lips formed a grin as you instinctively looked away from his face, when you noticed a tattoo on his pale-skinned arm that looked like some kind of architectural drawing.

you: nice to meet you, gary.

you still weren’t sure about any of the boys and quickly moved on, so as not to linger too long.

the next boy you encountered was even taller, with dark brown hair in an undercut, slightly lifted off of his face. his arms and legs were long and his muscles were incredibly toned, his face clean shaven with youthful eyesmile. as soon as you made eye contact, the corner of his mouth raised up into a cheeky yet genuine grin. his complexion was deeply tan as he seemed to fit the description “tall, dark, and handsome” to a tee.

you: hi.

you found yourself too stunned to make a joke as you simply stood before him, taking in his handsome features.

noah: hi. i’m noah.

his speech was short and sweet, so you figured trying to strike up a conversation might be a mistake. instead you sent him a shy smile, moving to the next boy in line, but never forgetting about noah.

rocco: how do you do?

the next boy in line reached out and grabbed your hand before you could get a good look at him. his face and torso were quite freckly, a slight tuft of reddish-brown hair on his pecs which matched the chin-length, curly hair on his head. his facial features were very defined and his jawline was covered in stubble. he donned several wooden beaded necklaces which gave him a distinct, hippie-ish look. right under his clavicle, he also had a tattoo of a chinese character, which forced you to do a double take as you recognized it as meaning “soup”.

he slowly kissed the back of your hand.

rocco: the name’s rocco.

you: charmed.

though you were genuinely intrigued, rocco had come off a little strong, and you decided to move on quickly.

you: what’s your name, babe?

the next boy in line was also quite tall, dark, and handsome. his skintone was deep and his muscles were perhaps the most toned of all the boys. his physique resembled a model or a comicbook character, almost too perfect to be believed. his hair was in cornrows and his eyes were big and sincere as he spoke.

ibrahim: i’m ibrahim, chuffed to meet you.

you: and i, you.

the next boy in line was a bit of an outlier. he was slim, still quite strong looking, but not to the extent that he’d be living at the gym. his hair was styled into short dreads and his face was somewhat heart-shaped, his cheeks freckly and round, giving him a youthful appearance. his complexion was medium-dark with neutral undertones, making his golden brown eyes pop.

bobby: looks like they saved the best for last. i’m like the dessert of this beefcake buffet.

you were taken aback by his brazen jokes, instinctively laughing. you quickly raised your right hand to cover your smile, so as to not breathe right into his face.

bobby: aw love, don’t cover your smile! i’ll have you laughing all the way to the bedroom.

gary: and in it.

the rest of the boys also erupted in laughter.

bobby: i’m bobby by the way.

as soon as you settled down he looked you right in the eye; a somewhat tender moment despite only knowing him for such a short while.

taking a step back, your mind was already somewhat made up, though you wanted to take an extra step to aid your decision.

you: ok boys, will anyone who fancies me please step forward?

you almost couldn’t bear to look, your heart was beating like a hummingbird’s wings. but to your surprise, one-by-one each of the boys began stepping forward - each of them except the boy you wanted.

a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to just hurry up and make a choice, though you stood still, your eyebrows furrowing as you studied the scene in front of you. noah was still standing in the same spot.

snapping out of it, you put on your most official-sounding voice to announce your decision.

you: i think i’d like to couple up with... noah.

puzzlingly, noah’s face lit up when you said his name. you thought he’d be annoyed but as you took your place next to him, he looked to you affectionately, his eyes forming crescents as he smiled.

the rest of the boys returned to their original places and there was a moment of downtime before the next girl would come out from the house.

noah leaned in and spoke to you in a hushed voice.

noah: thanks for choosing me. i think i would’ve stepped forward but i was a bit shy.

you: you think?

you mimicked his volume, trying not to sound needy or condescending as you turned to face him. although you were a bit startled to find his face so close to your own, you didn’t mind it, since his energy was so calming.

noah: do you ever feel like your emotions have a mind of their own? and you’re just waiting for them to take over and guide your body? that’s what was going through my mind. but you’re honestly stunning, so i’m glad it worked out.

you: i am too.

the both of you stood for a moment, just exchanging giddy smiles, when suddenly the sound of heels on cement caught everyone’s attention. lottie was up next to choose.

lottie: wow, i’m really spoiled for choice.

she went down the line, eyeing each boy up and down but only stopping to speak to gary.

lottie: nice tattoo, hun.

gary: right back atcha.

she studied him some more through hooded, sultry eyelids. her winged black eyeliner suddenly stood out from her dark violet eyeshadow in the sunlight.

lottie: alright well if anyone likes the look of me, step forward.

only rocco stepped forward.

lottie: well i suppose 1 is better than none. i wouldn’t have appreciated you stepping forward.

she gestured to noah.

lottie: i’m a gal’s gal, even if (Y/N) isn’t.

returning her attention to rocco, she glanced him over one more time, before shrugging slightly.

lottie: i’d be well excited to get to know you. what’s your name, babe?

rocco: it’s rocco, nice to meet you.

he gave her a friendly yet lingering hug as they fell in line beside you. after another few moments, marisol approached. she walked over silently, taking her time to look over each of the boys intently.

marisol: hmm, my pride as psych student might be getting the better of me, but i just need a sec to suss everyone out.

she moved up and down the line once more, starting to rub her chin, when she suddenly stopped at ibrahim.

marisol: what’s your name, gorgeous?

ibrahim: it’s ibrahim, but my friends call me rahim.

marisol: well, from my observation, you seem like quite the bright personality inside a little shell. i could use a bit of brightness in my life.

ibrahim: i’ll gladly oblige.

marisol: well then i hope you don’t mind if i pick you. may i call you rahim?

ibrahim: nothing would make me happier.

as marisol stood in line next to ibrahim, they seemed quite pleased with each other. marisol always carried herself with a certain poise - a kind of “smart person aura” that doctors always seem to have. perhaps she was a great psychologist in the making.

just then, hannah came out from the house. she walked with a peppy stride that made it seem almost as if she was skipping.

hannah: oh my gosh, all you boys are drop-dead gorgeous!

she walked up to gary, whose light blue-grey eyes she seemed to be studying quite intensely.

hannah: what’s your name?

gary: it’s gary.

he jokingly and extravagantly got down on one knee and kissed the back of her hand.

gary: but you can call me mr. right.

you and the other girls shared a knowing look, as hannah’s brown doe eyes widened even further and her face was consumed by a deep red flush.

hannah: i think i will!

she curtsied her imaginary dress and linked arms with gary, standing beside him in line. the last girl to choose was hope and after a brief pause, she sauntered out of the villa.

hope: now, i may be choosing last but i will not be stuck with leftovers!

she glances around at each of the boys before honing in on noah.

hope: what’s your name, dear?

noah: i’m noah.

hope: well, noah, you look like the strong, silent type. and i need a man who’s strong enough to handle my fire.

she turned to you with a sympathetic look.

hope: sorry babes, i gotta go with my gut.

you tried to respond with something reassuring but the words were too quiet to even leave your lips. you gave hope and noah the space to hug and greet each other, migrating away from the lineup and spotting bobby by himself.

bobby: i guess we’re in the lonely hearts club together. but don’t worry, we don’t have to be leftovers.

you let out a breathy chuckle, as he was clearly hung up on hope’s choice of wording, but perhaps too easygoing to let it fester for too long.

bobby: i’m really glad we ended up together.

as the coupling up was finally over, the couples began chatting amongst themselves as the group of you awaited further direction. when bobby spoke directly to you in his softer, more comforting tone, he almost seemed like a different person. you appreciated this very personable side to him.

you: i’m glad we’re together too. i think it’ll be fun getting to know each other.

as a phone sounded off in the background, your sentence trailed off but bobby’s sweetly reassuring smile lingered while gary read out a text.

now that the first coupling is complete, you will all have a few moments to start getting to know each other, before our first challenge: truth or dare!

bobby was quick to make use of the opportunity.

bobby: wanna go chat on the sun loungers?

you nodded silently as he led the both of you there.

bobby: ok i just need to get one question out of the way.

he sat down with a little grunt and you sat opposite him. his shorts looked more like purple basketball shorts than swim trunks, perhaps meaning he wasn’t totally confident in his beach body.

bobby: am i your usual type?

his expression was expectant yet earnest as he put his forearms on his knees and tapped the tips of his fingers against each other. you found it cute how anxious he was, like he was putting his all into impressing you.

you: i don’t think i have a type. i’m all about personality, so you’ve got nothing to worry about in that department.

you saw his cheeks turn pink for a split second before he hung his head and chuckled, prompting you to pile on more compliments.

you: and you’re a right sort so... why wouldn’t you be my type?

bobby: i could list off all the reasons but i’d rather not blow my chances with you right away.

you found yourself giggling and instinctively covered your mouth again, as was an on-and-off habit of yours.

bobby: i’m gonna get you to show me that beautiful smile eventually. partly because i need to check that you actually are laughing at my jokes.

you used your left hand to grab your right wrist and pull it down from your face.

you: sorry, sorry. it’s a habit. but to be fair, you’re proper hilarious, i don’t think you’re in any danger.

he scratched the back of his neck gingerly.

bobby: thanks. you’re too kind. is there anything you wanna know about me?

you: hmm... what’s your usual type?

bobby: well, more or less i like dark hair, but it’s not super important. mainly i just want a girl who likes getting dolled up and going on nights out, but is also down-to-earth and can laugh at dumb jokes with me. i like when someone naturally turns heads and can handle being the center of attention, but doesn’t seek it out.

nodding your head slowly, you realized that bits and pieces of his description seemed to fit you, but when combined it didn’t sound terribly like you at all. you stared into the distance as your brain tried to process what this would mean for your relationship, but quickly snapped out of it when bobby’s cheerful voice spoke again.

bobby: anything else?

you: weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?

bobby: the moon.

you raised an eyebrow at him.

bobby: kinda. i once dated this girl who worked at a museum and they had a little exhibit that looked like the surface of the moon. it was closed off one day so... what else were we supposed to do?

hope: I GOT A TEXT

the couples were scattered around the back garden, but all eyes were instantly on hope, who sat with noah on the bean bags.

everyone please gather at the fire pit for truth or dare! you will all get to know VERY well in this series’s first challenge!

through background chatter and a few stray laughs, you turned back to bobby, about to suggest you both go follow the others.

bobby: erm... before we catch up to them, i just wanna say i genuinely am so pleased to be coupled up with you. i know it’s still very early days but i’m gonna give us a shot.

your lips curled into a smile as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

you: i will too.

your cheeks became slightly sore as the two of you got up and strolled to the fire pit, the grin never falling off your face.

rocco: check it out!

as the group began sitting down, rocco spotted a pile of laminated cards right in front of the bonfire, which lay dormant in the daylight.

hannah: I GOT A TEXT

islanders, hope you’re ready to turn up the heat in truth or dare! today’s challenge is for getting to know each other and not for a prize, though you can look forward to some of those very soon!

hope: i’ll go first!

she scurried over to rocco and grabbed the pile out of his hands. lottie, who was sitting directly next to you, leaned over and murmured in your ear with a sarcastic tone.

lottie: very assertive of her to take charge like that.

you: i guess someone had to go first.

hope took a moment, sifting through the cards which were labeled with either “truth” or “dare”.  she gave the rest of the stack back to rocco after she seemingly found one she was happy with.

hope: i chose dare so... the card says i have to put someone’s toes in my mouth for 10 seconds.

the group reacted with a mixture of giggles and groans of disgust.

bobby: alright then, which lucky fella’s getting the pedicure today?

hope faintly licked her lips while pretending to think over her choice, before turning to noah who sat beside her.

hope: i choose noah!

he let out a lighthearted chuckle, clearly somewhat grossed out by the prospect, but still a good sport about it. he slipped off one of his adidas slides and quickly tried to dust off the sole of his foot.

hope: ready, babe?

noah: if you are...

everyone huddled around the couple, counting down in unison as bobby cackled uncontrollably and noah occasionally winced.

hannah: i know liking foot stuff is pretty common now, but toes specifically just freak me out! from certain angles they look like worms!

bobby: if you want, i can ask if we’re allowed to reuse cards.

hannah squealed and squirmed in her seat as the rest of the group - mainly the boys - laughed. gary looked particularly keen to watch hannah get teased for being so squeamish.

hope: (Y/N), you seemed up for a laugh when we were chatting earlier, why don’t you pick someone to go next?

you: alright then, how about noah?

hope fumbled with her words for a few seconds before getting out her reply, although never breaking her confident exterior.

hope: noah just had plenty of excitement, hun. how about another couple get in on the action? bobby?

bobby looked to noah for confirmation, which he gave with the simple shrug of his shoulders. bobby then hopped out of his seat to receive a card from rocco, who you realized had never reshuffled the pile after hope looked through them.

rocco: truth or dare, mate?

bobby: though i am quite truthful, today i’m feeling more daring.

rocco grabbed a card from the top of the pile and read it out.

rocco: snog the islander you fancy the most!

bobby silently giggled and shook his head in playful disbelief. he didn’t linger on the thought too long before confidently approaching you. he sat next to you, placing a hand gently on your knee, which was pointed toward him as your legs were crossed.

bobby: this is my way of shooting my shot...

you: guess you really are daring then.

he took the teasing banter as his cue, leaning in while you did the same. his grip on your knee grew a bit tighter, and suddenly his hand was wandering up your thigh as your lips finally touched. there was an unmistakable spark when the two of you collided. bobby leaned into you more, growing bolder with his movements as his mouth opened slightly, and yours followed suit. though, as it was only your first kiss, it didn’t need to go on any longer since you were worried about things getting sloppy.

you cupped his jawline with your dominant hand and pulled away from him slowly, only just realizing that the rest of the group were cheering like drunken university students. your thumb stroked his chin, taking a moment to send him an affirming look; almost to say that you liked the kiss and were pleased that he chose you, though you may have gotten lost in his eyes for a split second afterwards.

lottie: good to see you two are already getting on!

her voice pierced through your giddy haze, and you straightened out your hair and swimsuit as bobby scrambled to get off you.

hope: they’re gonna be getting it on if we leave them any longer.

bobby: so it’s (Y/N)’s turn then?

he rubbed his hands together with devilish excitement as some of the other islanders pounded on the wooden floorboards for a drumroll effect.

bobby: truth or dare, (Y/N)?

your eyes scanned around at lightspeed, for some reason looking for a sign of some sort to help you choose. you briefly caught noah looking in your direction, but when you glanced back at him, his gaze shifted elsewhere.

you: i guess i’ll pick dare.

you gave rocco an animated shrug as he scurried over to hand you your card.

rocco: now that’s what i’m talking about! live on the edge, (Y/N)!

as you skimmed over the card, you quickly realized that this dare would not be as much fun as the last one.

you: send a sexy selfie to the islander you find most attractive.

you tried not the let the anxiety bubbling up in your stomach show through your tone of voice, although you did worry that all the good will you’d built up with bobby would immediately come crashing down.

you rationalized that surely it wouldn’t be productive to lie about your feelings - on a show about finding love - and on the first day, when the future was still so uncertain. bobby was handsome, undoubtedly. he would be the type of guy you’d be lucky to meet on a night out; his eyes hypnotic and his physique enviable. he would be the type of boyfriend that’d impress all your friends back home.

but then there was noah. noah was the type of guy you would consider a dreamboat, if that term wasn’t so corny. it was almost like he existed in a realm beyond a dream - perhaps more on par with guys that were so attractive, you thought they could only exist in movies. noah’s face had just the right amount of masculine appeal, from his defined brow and jawline, yet his smile gave him such a boyish charm. and just from the short while you’d spent interacting with him, you could feel just how genuine he was, never saying more or less than what was in his mind.

you quickly swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, tossing your hair out of your face and pulling out your phone. you were admittedly no stranger to taking selfies, so you were fast to find the right angles and start snapping. the pose you decided on was rather cool and aloof, as opposed to outright sexy - your lips formed a subtle pout as your eyes stared down the camera lens intensely.

you: sorry if it’s underwhelming, lads. the sexiest thing about me is my attitude.

your thumbs tapped away at light speed, entering the name of the boy you’d chosen. there was only a split second of relief, where you’d let out a nervous sigh, before a phone buzzed.

noah: wow... thanks.

maybe you were just a bit eager, but you swore you saw his cheeks turn red even through his dark complexion.

rocco: noah, you were the chosen one, bruv! why don’t you pick the next person?

noah: err... how about you then, rocco?

rocco hurriedly closed his eyes and chose a random card from the bottom of one of the piles.

marisol: well? truth or dare, rocco?

rocco: oh. sorry. truth. i just got excited to get into some real talk.

the group was almost completely silent while rocco looked over his card. he sensed the eyes on him, raising up the cards in his left hand in attempt to break the awkward atmosphere.

rocco: this pile is the truth pile, just so you guys know.

marisol: what does your card say, babe?

her tone was almost reminiscent of a kindergarten teacher’s. he simply shrugged - perhaps trying to seem nonchalant - and handed the question to her to read.

marisol: what’s your idea of the perfect date?

rocco: i thought a little bit about my answer, and i think what i’ve come up with is pure class: so i run this food truck right? cronuts and smoothies. i drive it out to a meadow, or some place with a proper nice view, and we have a little picnic at sunset. then, once the moon and stars come out, just lay on the truck roof and talk all night long.

hannah: i can’t lie... that does sound really romantic.

you happened to catch marisol mid-eyeroll and had to stifle a laugh.

gary: don’t you think laying on top of a truck is a bit dangerous though? i’d reckon a walk through a shipyard at night would be just as nice. the red lights from the ships, a little bit of sea breeze blowing through her hair as well. that sounds well romantic.

a blatant giggle came from lottie’s direction.

bobby: mate, do you really think a girl would find that romantic though?

gary: one who isn’t tryna waste time driving to the middle of nowhere and risk her life climbing onto a truck, yeah. in my opinion, romance isn’t meant to be about pointless spectacle. it should be realistic. i’d take a girl to the shipyard because i’d wanna share my favorite place with her.

bobby: a good point indeed, but i think romance should be a bit more lighthearted. you know - invite a girl over to bake some cupcakes together, maybe get into a bit of a food fight, maybe find an excuse to lick frosting off her lips?

hope sent bobby a confused glance.

bobby: oh, i work as a cook in a hospital. baking is kinda my thing.

you took note of hope in your peripheral vision. bobby’s explanation didn’t seem to placate her, as you noticed her chuckling behind a fist which she held in front of her mouth. instinctively, you turned to bobby and placed a hand lightly on top of his.

his blinking became a bit faster but he quickly turned to face you, his voice hushed.

bobby: and in case you were wondering, cupcakes are my specialty. i’m working on a recipe for cinnamon banana cupcake batter; it’s totally gonna blow the minds of geriatric patients everywhere.

you chuckled, shaking your head slightly and turning your gaze toward the ground. bobby couldn’t help but relish in the fact the you were smiling with teeth for the first time all day.

you: and i’m sorry about choosing noah for the dare. but obviously, it’s just a surface-level thing, and i don’t want you to think it means i’m not into you.

bobby: well, i’ll be honest, it’s quite nice to know that you are into me.

lottie: aw crikey, we’ve lost bobby and (Y/N).

marisol: come on lottie, it’s the first day. they’re getting to know each other, and that was the point of this game anyway, right?

lottie: well, that brings up a good question: if we wanna get to know each other, would you lot mind if i go off-script for a second?

the others all shrugged in unison. as many big personalities as there were in the group, it seemed that everyone was rather easygoing, and liked to go with the flow.

lottie: (Y/N), truth or truth, who do you think has the right idea about romance?

marisol: wait, did going “off-script” mean changing the game rules?

lottie: i’m just curious, babes, and i’m sure the fellas would like to know too.

bobby and some of the other boys looked to you expectantly, even noah.

you: er... well... what gary said about taking a girl to see his favorite place was honestly really cool. that’s such a vulnerable gesture and really shows the other person how much they mean to you. even if a shipyard is less than romantic, in my opinion.

hope: this is actually kinda fun! what do you say we play a little more, with off-script questions?

bobby: why don’t you ask something, (Y/N)?

you: ok... what about you, ibrahim? are you feeling up for truth or truth?

ibrahim looked as though you’d awaken him from his own little world. he cleared his throat before answering, clearly shocked at the amount of eyes on him.

ibrahim: yeah... for sure. ask away.

you: hmm, well, i’m probably not as creative as whoever wrote that fat stack of questions, so i’ll just ask you the same thing: what do you reckon romance ought to be?

ibrahim paused for a moment, looking to the skyline. perhaps he was waiting for inspiration to strike him like a coconut falling from a mallorcan palm tree. though, he barely showed any expression of emotion on his face. he was thoroughly an enigma.

ibrahim: easy.

his answer seemed to elicit mixed reactions from the group, but marisol seemingly expressed approval with the raising of one eyebrow. perhaps she was determined to figure him out.

noah: oh shoot. i got a text.

islanders, now that you’ve broken the ice, it’s time to dive into the real love island experience! tonight, you’ll be served up some spanish sangria along with an extra sizzling surprise.

[boredymcbored]

Let's Vent

cause IDK if this will see the light of day but I'm upset.

You're sad. You're miserable. You're so easily fixable too. But only indulge in the sad huh?

Like my mess of a room. My weight gain (I'm surprised I'm not more upset at that for all the work I've done). Your loneliness. Cause you were lead on by a woman to join a friend group that you desperately needed (nefariously). Then were lead on again by a woman to join a friend group you desperately needed (genuine?). And you can't step away cause you're So Dang Likable! (TM) and you also love those people and need them cause you're so dang lonely.

Which is also your fault. Cause even after seeing two close friends in caskets, you can't get over your guilt of not being there the last couple of years for your HS friends and think it's best to remove yourself from their grace cause they're better off without you. Even though they keep saying they miss you.

And it's not just your highschool, but college friends too. You know of one person that always forgives your proclivities to self isolate and still be there but you can only text him sports ball shit. Still haven't told him when you'd call back btw. And yes he's your best friend the world has ever gifted you, but he's not yours. For that reason.

You can't even get solace from your incredibly worried mother cause she is quarantined from you because you actually decided not be be a recluse and hang out with friends. But they tested positive for covid. Now you're cut off from the person that can smell your sadness from miles away cause you can't even socialize with friends right before leading you to more isolation. At least you dodge her looks of pity and concern a few days, huh?

And now you beg for a sports ball team you like to be playing a game so that you can dissociate with the parasocial environment of twitter and reddit to FEEL at least somewhat fulfilled in the social department right? But it's social junk food and you know it. The artificial connections that you formed are not meaningful and you can act like it adds validity to some type of work that you've done in the past cause PREVIOUSLY people noticed it but now you don't have much of an aura of notability now do ya? Probably cause you're not on TV and only seem to be doing the same couple jobs with no career growth.

Not that you even want that growth do you? Cause you could be applying but are letting something that potentially ruined your ability to smoothly get hired or just traverse through the world weigh on you. And TBF the weight of that will now stick with you. That INCREDIBLY stupid thing that was non consequential has been a dark cloud over you for 3 years and won't go away cause of forces out of your control. ONE thing you can't control in this vent.

But you can control how fucking sad you get when you don't answer work questions right away and your mind starts to replay the words you've found hard to push out your mind "You can never do shit. You don't do shit". That woman that was supposed to support you, that you went through hell and shame to earn, told you that shit after you gave up so much of your self to help her, while you were fucking spiraling. And she broke you, didn't she? All the confidence that you were just starting to rebuild brick by brick was once again laid askew. You still haven't built it back either. From doing the world to barely being functional, that shit broke you in ways that you still are struggling with today. Guess you don't do shit after all.

My brain isn't rational rn. It'll say things that aren't all the way true or are heavily influenced by my loneliness, my anxieties, my fears and general unhappiness that I have rn in life. It's bringing up all my childhood traumas and insecurities to front and center stage and I just ... And it's no one else's fault that I'm feeling this way. But I feel neglected. And scared. of what i'd do. And my rationality. It's stopping me from being dramatic. Like right now I'm screaming to myself BITCH STOPPPP being so dramatic. And knowing my goofy ass, even with all my tears and fears, I smile as I write this..

But I know it's coping. It's self soothing. It's just me playing survivor man. Les Stroud at your service. Spending 7 days in the deep Andrea mindfuck wilderness. Scary, I know.

Cause the instinct to call for friends. Or call for help. Has taken over by the big bad that is my mind. And it's winning. And eating my life away. By doom scrolling. Making content and never releasing it. Having ideas and never doing it. Good ideas too man. So much creativity. And a gift. Ruined by a brain hungry to dim the light I'm holding on for dear life.

This is not a cry for help. I've been a lot more sad. A lot more crazy. Nothing is like being in the bathroom of my dorm after continuous isolation and identity issues, just trying to rip myself out of my body and away from the negative voices that were screaming at me to hurt myself. Everything was so grey then.

I still see color. I can find joy in the media I consume, despite the immense guilt I feel afterwards for not doing much else but that. Steph Curry is playing well? That makes me happy. I streamed. That was pleasant as well.

I feel like a waste of space but there's SOME rational part of me that reads all of what I wrote and KNOWS it's a lie. And I pray that I never lose that voice cause it's a DAMN good voice. I know I am the reason for most of these things, but not even in a bad way. In a way I can fix if I work on myself, one step at a time.

I just need hope to pull that out. And idk where to find it. I'll have to be the one to pull it, I know. I just need.. I don't know. But I need. And I feel pathetic for being so needy. And wanting. And being so unstable. But I NEED. And I don't know where I've gonna get my need from..

I just hope I find it soon.

[nyancrimew]

Sorry, it was unfair of me to send that to you without proper context since you might not be aware of these issues. Irredeemable media refers to any thing with a creator or content  that is harmful and/or bigoted. Of course every piece of media has problems, but irredeemable media is when those problems cannot be ignored and are an indicator of someone's beliefs. 

For example, Harry Potter is irredeemable media because every one knows that JK Rowling is a transphobe, but some other piece of media like Twilight would not be considered irredeemable because even though Stephanie Meyer has done some bad things, they are not as widely talked about, so someone who posts about Twilight on here isn't completely likely to be a bigot, but a Harry Potter blogger would. Also, I know the "to be cringe is to be free" people like your blog, but a lot of the time, what is considered cringey on here is actually based on what is irredeemable. No progressive person or reputable blogger genuinely makes fun of My Little Pony fans any more, however plenty make fun of Hazbin Hotel fans and the such because that content is irredeemable and shows someone's beliefs. So usually, a piece of media being considered embarassing to like on here usually indicates that it is irredeemable.

As for why the other pieces of media are irredeemable, Hazbin Hotel is made by a woman who has many well-documented accusations of bigotry against her and has drawn zoophilia art, not to mention how her work leans into stereotypes about gay people (having a gay man character be a sex addict, a lesbian be named after the female body part Vagina, etc.) or at least that's what I've heard. Attack on Titan is created by a known fascist and many illusions are made to nazi imagery and nationalism in the anime. Captive Prince has a racist premise that sexualizes slavery and non-con. 

People can tell you that liking irredeemable media doesn't say something about who they are, but that's fundamentally false. If someone is uncaring enough to still post openly about these types of media, it's clear they don't care enough about not supporting bigotry. Yes, even if they don't give money to the creators, because they are still willingly exposing themselves to bigoted or harmful content and enjoying it.

The previous ask was not meant to be accusatory. Rather it was meant as a concerned question. Believe it or not, there are still some users on here who indulge in these pieces of content, a few of which hide behind the excuse of being part of a minority (Black, trans, whatever) or simply deny how bad their media consumption is to escape accountability. I wouldn't want you associating with those types of people and have that ruin your reliability on this website.

Hopefully this ask has educated you more on these issues and you'll be able to spot irredeemable media in the future and block it out.

incredible essay, you get a C for Creativity