#if these feel sad it's because i spent all day rotting in my bed and crying

[theheirofthesharingan]

Very random but do you have any headcanons about Itachi and by extension Shisui's lifestyle in the modern era? For example, would they use Android or Iphone, or what sort of food preferences they would have like gluten free or vegan? Or what about their workout regimen? Not to mention, the kind of shampoo they would use (sorry if that's too specific)

I personally see Itachi as a very reticent person who would thrive in marathon training outside of any combat training. Do you have any opinions about that or anything related to Itachi headcanons in general?

In the modern AU, I see Itachi going through the same kind of things he does in canon, but on a lesser scale. His dynamic with his family and Shisui would be more or less the same.

Itachi is the Android person. He doesn't like showing off and is content with the simpler things in life. He is vegetarian. Shisui doesn't mind eggs and some seafood.

His favourite person is Sasuke. Obviously. But Shisui is up close as well. There were times in Itachi's life when he had no idea what was going on and Shisui stood beside him. Itachi is always thankful for that.

The only thing Itachi doesn't compromise with is his hair. So, he regularly does shampoo and uses conditioner on his hair. Shisui doesn't really care about his own and if he's running out of time, he doesn't mind using washing powder on his hair either.

Itachi is definitely introverted. Though since in the modern world he might not be training rigorously because he's not a ninja, he'll spend a lot of time studying.

He reads Kafka, Murakami, Plath, Dazai, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, and Camus a lot. Shisui tries to get him to read something else as well but Itachi gets bored of his recs real soon. Shisui and he argue a lot on the kind of books they like. Sasuke just stays out of their arguments because he's more of a comic book person. His arguments tend to be with Naruto the most. And they're never on the same page.

Itachi has a strained relationship with his parents. It's not too bad, but he feels uncomfortable whenever he's home. He knows he's loved, but he can't bring himself to be comfortable with his parents around. His strict father and his mom being an ideal wife have contributed a lot to him being inexpressive. Being a genius, a prodigy, best at everything is tiring. Everyone thinks he's having the best of all worlds, but in fact, he sometimes breaks down because he can't handle it. As if he's not allowed to fail. He wants his parents to be proud of him.

He knows he's the best at what he does. It's not outright arrogance but confidence that shows in his persona. He always ends up stealing the limelight, no matter who the object of centre is meant to be. It occasionally causes a rift between him and Sasuke. No, Sasuke doesn't say it out loud, but Itachi understands that Itachi stealing the attention that Sasuke deserved hurt his little brother. He hates seeing Sasuke sad because of him. Once he understands what is wrong, Itachi always removes himself from the picture, making last minute excuses why he can't make it. It happens with him and Shisui too. But Shisui tries to make him understand that he doesn't mind it and it isn't his fault. Though Itachi won't listen. He doesn't like being inconvenience to the people he loves.

Itachi is Sasuke's rock. Every time Sasuke needs something or wants someone to root for him, he always has Itachi's support. What he doesn't realize is that Itachi needs his support just as much. Itachi finds dinners with his parents comfortable only when Sasuke is around. Sasuke talks a lot, and that's therapeutic for Itachi. Sasuke's presence makes his life so much easier.

Both the brothers sometimes have heart-to-heart with each other. Sasuke mostly rants about his life and Itachi offers his opinions and suggestions, most of them work out for Sasuke. Sasuke wants to know about Itachi too and Itachi has no idea what to say about himself and his life. He doesn't want to burden Sasuke with all that he feels. Not that Sasuke doesn't manage to get some answers out of Itachi. He's understood that asking his older brother questions directly won't help. So he beats around the bush a lot until Itachi begins to speak.

One day when their parents were out of town, Sasuke managed to pry some answers out of his brother, and was horrified to know that the Itachi Uchiha had struggles too.

Ever since they were kids, Shisui would come over to the Uchiha household for sleepovers. And when Mikoto and Fugaku fell asleep, all three kids would indulge in pillow fights. Sasuke and Shisui would gang up on Itachi because that's one of those things that draw some reaction out of Itachi.

[talentforlying]

LET ME ASSIGN YOU AN AESTHETIC WORD.

CAFUNÉ. cafuné means running your fingers through someone's- perhaps a lover, hair. it's such an intimate, affectionate way of showing love. if you got this result, you're a romantic at heart; very sweet, delicate, precious wandering soul. aren't you scared of your heart being too big for your body? somehow, you remind me of that pretty coral pink that bleeds into a soft indigo when the sun is slowly setting.

what i'd like to tell you is that we can't save everyone, and that's okay. you're doing your best, and it's enough.

tagged by: @danversiism!! <3 tagging: you!!

[hoonatic]

sunday mornings | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: sunday mornings are best spent slowly. but there are sheets to be changed and a beautiful boyfriend to stare at. pairing: idol!sunghoon x reader (established relationship) genre: domestic fluff + some hurt/comfort. it was only supposed to be tooth-rotting sweetness, but the sad demons within me won a bit, i fear. word count: 1364 note: this was also supposed to be shorter than it is, but what can i say? i’m a yapper. (also can’t believe i’m writing a fic again but needed to get this one out i guess) enjoy!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the sun had risen, but you certainly hadn’t.

after weeks apart, you finally had your boyfriend back in your shared apartment, in your shared bed. it was a sunny, summer morning with no (real) responsibilities to take care of. you were happy, drowsy, and with the love of your life. you just wanted to bask in the moment.

“baby, get up. i need to change the sheets.”

sunghoon obviously did not share the sentiment.

you ignored the slight tugging at your sleeve, choosing to flail your body and turning back to him dramatically. you knew you’d regret that soon enough, given the unhinged level of impatience your boyfriend had. but if it got you a few more seconds of peace, then so be it.

a loud screech of your name and one “wake upppp!!!” later, you felt the regret seeping into every pore of your body.

“hoon, it’s so early. please…”

“it’s almost 9:30. i’ve already showered and i’m all ready to spend the day with you!”

as you continued to ignore him, the tugging became more and more aggressive. soon enough, you felt your entire upper body being lifted. but two could play the petty game - you kept your eyes shut, refusing to look at the thief stealing your sleep.

“baby, how could you rob me of seeing your beautiful eyes?”

“i dunno, maybe the same way you’re robbing me of my beauty rest???”

“beauty rest??? if you get any more beautiful, i’ll have to start dressing you in full-body armor.”

the cringe made you peek open an eye, “you’ve been spending way too much time with heeseung.” but all you could see was his big grin.

“maybe so, but it finally got you to open your eyes, so the full-body chills saying that gave me were worth it.”

“hoon,” you groaned and closed your eyes again, “i just changed the sheets last week. i can change them tomorrow or something if you really want. you don’t want to just laze around together today?”

he didn’t respond as quickly as you’d expect. the silence forced your eyes open - he was biting his lip and staring at you with an unreadable expression. but before you could ask what was wrong, he spoke first,

“that’s exactly it though…”

“what do you mean?” you were fully awake now.

“you spend enough time alone, maintaining this home,” he started, “i’m away all the time and i haven’t been able to help out. this is one of the rare chances to finally start pulling my weight around here. please let me have this?”

you could start to see the guilt swimming around in his eyes and you hated it. “hoon, you act like you’re a deadbeat boyfriend leaving me to do everything alone. baby, you have a job that you love, are amazing at, and that pays our bills. if that means i have to do the sheets, that’s okay.” 

“but you have a job too.”

“because i’m stupid and want to work. seriously hoon, don’t let these things bother you. you give me everything and more than i could ever ask for. we are in this together.” you were stroking his cheek at this point. seemingly satisfied with your response, he nuzzled into your hand, grateful for the comfort.

“are you feeling a little better at least?” you asked, voice patient and hopeful. he nodded and turned to kiss your palm, making you giggle a bit at the ticklish contact. he then shook his dark hair, damp locks lightly spraying you before suddenly pulling you out of bed.

“i’m feeling amazing and like i can take on the world…which includes these bedsheets! now get up so i can change them quickly and spend the rest of the day spoiling you with the love and affection you’ve been starved of.”

you wanted to argue with his statement and accuse him of tricking you out of bed, but knew you shouldn’t. you understood him more than anyone in the world, so you were going to give him this…even if the bed was really, really warm.

so you got up completely, choosing to stand closely in case you could help in any way. but his notorious stubbornness fought you off, gently swatting your hand any time you tried to pry the fitted sheet up.

“baby,” he scowled at you while holding a pillow, “just stand there and look pretty. let your big ol’ boyfriend take care of this for you.”

“big???” you almost saw the moon with how far you rolled your eyes. “your biceps grow half a millimeter and suddenly you–” before you could finish your statement, you felt the impact of the pillow to your face.

“hey!”

“that’s not what your stickers were saying whenever i sent gym selfies to you.”

damn, he got you there. you kept your mouth shut, glaring at his laughing silhouette while he continued to move about. choosing peace, you decided to let that go and finally take the chance to admire your boyfriend.

not only were his arms looking magnificent with every movement he made to change the sheets, but you could just tell how he poured his heart into everything he did. from the bedsheets to his career, he never half-heartedly did anything. he was humming their latest comeback song as he took on the folding of the fitted sheet, and his pride in his passion radiated off of every cell in his body. you were so proud of him, and you could feel your own body almost burst out of pure affection.

after a few minutes, the used sheets and pillowcases were all neatly in his arms, ready for the washer. you giggled a bit before speaking, “leave it to you to make even dirty sheets look clean. i’ll start setting up the new sheets.”

you could tell he wanted to argue, but he knew better.

while he got the washer running, you finished putting down your fluffiest comforter - you had bought it while he was away. you wanted him to have the best during the well-deserved time off he had.

“hoon!” you cheered excitedly when you saw him approaching the doorway. dragging him to sit down in the middle, “try out the new sheets! i bought them for when you came back!”

sunghoon ran his hands across it and patted them a few times for good measure. wordlessly, he grabbed you by the waist and settled your body between his legs. he hugged you loosely, yet lovingly, staring up at you with his chin on your torso.

“thank you, i love you.” such simple, yet meaningful words. you felt butterflies in every corner of your soul.

after a few more comforting seconds of him playing with the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly dancing across the skin that peeked out from under it, you decided to have a bit more fun. 

you quickly took his hands off your back and pushed him to lay back into the bed. you grabbed both sides of the comforter and wrapped him up in it. the best part of it all? he just let you do it, purposely laying limp with a big, curious grin on his face.

“there!” you exclaimed, jumping onto the blanket burrito that was your boyfriend, “now you’re trapped with me forever.”

“it’s not being trapped if i want to be here.” with only his face free, sunghoon smiled up at you, fangs practically piercing your heart with love. you became too flustered to speak, so you took revenge on him instead, planting kisses all over his face.

for a second, you thought he’d shy away a bit. but instead he stuck his head out even more, turning his face to give your lips more access to any piece of untouched skin. you took advantage and continued to give loud, happy pecks, your hands squishing his face. he was finally basking in the moment you had been begging him to all morning, happiness reaching the crinkles of his eyes.

yes, the eventual tour would come soon enough to steal him away. but for now, you were content. for now, this sunday morning was for just you and him.

[muddyorbsblr]

gestures & rain checks

See my full list of works here!

pre-story author's note: Yes I am very aware that it's been a solid month since Valentine's Day. Yes I am still posting this 🫡

Summary: It feels like your friends are getting plucked away from you one by one as their respective (or in Nat's case prospective) partners make grand gestures to ask them to be their Valentine.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning/s: language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); mentions of alcohol; tooth-rotting fluff; gun use [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Morgan being a precious beb; himbo!Thor hours; lowkey sad Reader hours; chaotic group chat vibes in the end

You always had a distaste for this day. Valentine's Day. To you, it was the one day a year that you would do everything in your power not to step outside because it reeked of flowers and chocolate marked up to the heavens for merchants to take advantage of last minute gift shoppers hoping to make a gesture big enough that their crush would let them score at the end of the night. Or guys buying extravagant and ridiculously large arrangements to make amends for wronging their partner as if a 10-foot tall teddy bear was gonna magically press some Undo button of him going on Hinge or Tinder and talking up a dozen other girls on the side.

There was one year that you let slip around Nat and Wanda that this day "smelled like a cemetery" with all the bouquets that bombarded you the second you exited the perimeter of the Compound. Hell, the second you left the main section that housed you and the rest of the Avengers. And you stood by that opinion stubbornly, mostly because you'd only ever witnessed flowers being given when someone was desperately trying to glue back together the pieces of a severely damaged relationship.

And also because no one had ever given you flowers in your entire life. Or chocolates. Or a teddy bear. All your past relationships were with men who were still mentally and emotionally boys that believed emojis and gifs sufficed and were as good as the real thing. Nary a single soul had ever actually spent a lick of time or effort to give you something that told you they deserved your time and effort in turn.

And after so many years of being barely an afterthought, the day just felt like this entity that you resented to an irrational degree, where all you wanted was to lay in bed and wait it out until the clock struck 12 and it was February 15th. Then you could go on a hunt for all the overpriced chocolate that suddenly got their prices slashed by 50% or more.

That was the plan again for this year, had it not been for both Nat and Wanda barging in to your apartment and practically dressing you up like you were their own life-sized definitely seen some better days Barbie doll. "Come on, we can go and have a Galentine's Day 2. Maybe hit up a club and get some free drinks…" the assassin trailed off, zipping up your dress and playfully swatting your ass to nudge you forward. "March on, soldier."

The common area was nearly bare and eerily quiet when you all got there, which made perfect sense considering that most of your teammates who were happily committed to someone were off spending their day together, probably executing their own personal twists on those cliched gestures of adoration. Knowing Tony, that would probably consist of a two-storey tall stuffed bunny or a lavish new vacation house as a nice private little getaway spot for him and Pepper when they wanted to have a date night.

Only Morgan and Shaun were at the big dining table by the kitchen, the little girl working on bracelets with the martial artist nursing a cup of coffee while he handed her beads to add to her work. "Whaddup, Ten Rings…Baby Stark," you greeted them, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your goddaughter's head. "What're you two up to this fine completely ordinary day?"

"Oof, I take it you're gonna be spending the day watching a bunch of couples be all extra lovey dovey just like me?" You threw him a look, squinting your eyes at him that had him throwing his hands in the air in surrender. "No need to mentally squish my head, Y/N, we're on the same side, I swear," he chuckled, scooting over to the other seat so you could sit next to Morgan. "How about this, karaoke later tonight? Just us and anyone else that doesn't have a date with dinner and co--" You swatted his arm to get him to stop talking, not so subtly signaling in the little girl's direction. "I mean…adult balloons?"

"Wait how come you have special balloons?" Morgan asked, looking up from her activity book and earning barely stifled chortles from both Nat and Wanda. "Why can't I play with them? I like balloons."

You leaned back in your seat, making a motion with your hands as if you were wiping them clean of the whole conversation. "I'm not helping you out of this one, buddy."

He scratched the back of his head, obviously backed into the corner with his own words. "Eeeeeh…put a pin in that and ask me again when you can order a beer, Baby Stark."

The child pouted at both of you, slumping down in her place at the table and slipping back on her princess pink headphones before focusing all her attention on her activity book again, grumbling something about how grownups shouldn't have conversations around her if they didn't want her to ask questions. Valid enough point, but you still weren't going to be the one to give her her first lesson in Sex Ed class a good decade ahead of time.

"Anyways…" Shaun poked at your side, calling your attention back to him. "Karaoke, ladies? We can pick up Katy and Wong before we head over and sing some Disney duets and gorging ourselves on shots and nachos--"

"Hold up, Wong?" You all turned your attention to Stephen, who'd just walked in to the common area. "This I gotta see. You guys have room for one more?"

"Sure thing, as long as you use your sling ring to help us get into Tony's private stash," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee. "There's no way I'm getting through this day stone-cold sober."

"Or we could go for the really hard stuff and break into Thor's stash of mead from Asgard before he depletes his supply." He showcased the ring in question with a wiggle of his fingers. "Just a portal away."

"I like the way you think, Strange."

"You can all cease your scheming to pilfer my liquor, my friends," Thor's voice boomed into the area, a bounce in his step as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I would happily supply you all with two barrels if that would be enough for your gathering?"

"That's perfect, Thunder. Thanks." You started to tuck into the breakfast plate served by the Compound kitchen staff, mumbling your next question to the blond god. "What've you got planned with Jane for today?"

"Ah." A wide grin stretched across his face at the mention of his girlfriend, the sight both warming your heart and pinching it at the same time. A bittersweet reminder that in the midst of romantic plans with sentimental or grand gestures, your plans involved getting shit-faced with your fellow single friends. Plus Wanda and probably Vision. "Well, I have employed the aid of Wilson to order an ornate bouquet of Jane's favorite flowers which should arrive this morning. Then for lunch I shall prepare her a meal."

"Lunch?" Wanda questioned, tilting her head to the side. "Forgive me if I overstep, my friend, but aren't the romantic plans usually made for dinner?"

"Well, yes…but Jane has graciously agreed to adjusting our schedule for this day so that I may spend the time after lunch aiding my brother in a gesture of his own." A lump formed in your throat at the words. "It seems he wishes to get into the spirit of the holiday, and I am simply ecstatic that he came to me asking for a helping hand."

"I asked nothing of you, you over-muscled oaf," you heard the raven-haired god call out from the main entrance, two large packages hovering a few inches above the ground blanketed with a glow of green from his magic. "You volunteered when you imposed yourself in my space and hovered over my phone."

"Pfft, semantics," Thor waved off, already making his way over to Loki so that he could do some more apparently unnecessary volunteer work. "Are the flowers in one of your parcels?"

"I like flowers!" Morgan chirped from her seat, bouncing in place with bright excited eyes. "Prince Loki, can I help? Please?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh, a trace of a fond, amused smile betraying his facade. "Very well, little Stark. Come along."

Your goddaughter squealed, skipping over to Thor and placing her tiny hand in his. "Uncle Barbie, tell me who his princess is?" He leaned down to whisper the answer in her ear, making her sprint in place with even more excitement. "I promise I won't say a word."

"Barbie? Like your doll, little Lady Stark?" You could practically see the wheels turning in Loki's head from learning about the nickname.

Morgan nodded her head vigorously. "Auntie Y/N came up with it. She calls him Macho Barbie." She proceeded to talk about how you came to give the blond Asgardian the nickname that bizarrely stuck to him more than "Point Break" ever did, said god looking like he already dreaded the coming days -- maybe even years -- now that his brother knew that little tidbit of information.

Once they'd all made their way up the stairs and you could no longer hear the little girl's chipper tone, realization sat heavy in your heart from her reaction to whatever Thor whispered to her just a few seconds ago. Whoever it was that Loki was going to make this grand gesture for, it was someone that Morgan knew enough to the point that she couldn't contain her excitement finding out who the woman was.

It was someone in SHIELD. Maybe even someone in the Compound.

"You good, Babes?" Nat's tone was cautious, approaching you like you were a wounded animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce if she so much as breathed wrong.

You answered with a terse nod of your head. "There is absolutely no fucking way I'm getting through today sober."

"Y/N, dude, I'm sor--"

Bang

"What the fuck?" All eyes grew wide at the sound, your body stiffening as another shot rang out, reverberating throughout the common area. "FRIDAY? Threat assessment," you called out, already readying yourself for combat once whoever was outside made their way to you in the compound.

"No threats have been detected," the AI answered simply. "There seems to be no living target for the gunman."

You could only manage to repeat your words. "What the fuck?" Shot after shot rang out, an interval of three to five seconds between them. Each deafening bang making you flinch, your head spinning with possible explanations on why FRIDAY didn't deem the supposed attacker as a threat. "Where's the target then?"

"Shots are being fired at the training area, by the track field, Agent Y/L/N." You all started to make your way to the area, everyone still on high alert despite FRIDAY's findings.

"Y/N?!" You shared a look with everyone else in the room at the sound of Loki's voice calling out for you, the god looking frantic as he appeared at the top of the main staircase, a sigh of relief escaping him once he saw you standing at the bottom. "You're alright," he exhaled, hurriedly making his way down. The quickening pace of the gunshots had him squaring his shoulders, stepping in front of you and marching toward the sound.

"We've handled way worse than gunfire, Laufeyson, you don't have to lead the defense," you told him with a touch more bite to your tone than you intended, irrational jealousy coursing through you knowing what he was preparing for before he started charging down the stairs. You sidestepped him and started walking toward the training area, brows furrowing together when you saw that from where you stood, the marks from the bullets digging into the ground where forming some sort of shape.

"It's a message…" Wanda mused, angling her head to and fro to see if she could get the whole picture from the ground. "I'm going up, I wanna see what's worth risking Pepper's wrath with all the lawn work she has to commission now." She held her hand out to you, wordlessly offering to take you up with her, an offer that you gladly took, clapping your hand over hers, both of you giggling as your feet lifted off the ground.

Once you two had risen high enough, it was clear what the message was. The shots had been positioned so that the markings would take on the shape of a heart, and the ongoing shots were creating initials. "N…" you read along, barely able to contain your excitement when you saw that the next letter was an R. "Natasha Romanoff!" you yelled out, the assassin's eyes lighting up with a mix of giddiness and curiosity as she tried to look at where the gunshots could've been coming from.

You did your best to turn your head, trying to see who was behind the gesture, kicking your feet in the air once you saw the gunman. "What? Who is it, Y/N?"

"It's Barnes," you squeaked, giving Rogers a reckless wave when you caught sight of him jogging toward all of you with a megaphone in hand.

"Natasha Romanoff," Bucky's voice boomed through the speaker system, making the usually cool and collected former Russian spy put a hand over her mouth to hide the way she was steadily turning pink from how flustered she was. "I know I have a long way to go to make up for how we first met, but I think you're swell and I'd like to try starting it off with maybe dinner tonight?" Both you and Wanda squealed and held each other tight mid-air watching her nod her answer, running over to her once your feet touched the ground again.

"You two won't be pissed if I take a rain check for tonight, will you?" she cautioned, still a wistful tone in her voice from processing what was happening.

"Absolutely not, you go enjoy your date. More drinks to go around and all that," you told her with the biggest smile. "But tomorrow night we're all staying at my place and you're giving us a full report."

"And remember to wear the red lacy underwear," Wanda teased with a comical wiggle of her eyebrows, earning her a poke to the ribs from both of you.

Nat pulled away from the two of you, walking back toward the indoor gym with Steve walking alongside her, starting to talk about how his best friend had been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out since he got sworn in to the team nearly a year ago. From the sound of the conversation, it seemed that Rogers was divulging some information that Barnes probably swore him to secrecy not so long ago.

"And then there were seven," Shaun spoke up, walking toward  you and the sorceress and clapping a hand on each of your shoulders. "Thor came through and left the barrels in the kitchen for us."

You were about to start talking about the food arrangements when the sight of Wanda's husband flying toward you all with a bouquet of camellias and hydrangeas in his hand. "Wanda, my love, I owe you my deepest apologies."

"Whatever for, Vis?" She broke away from you and Shaun to greet the synthezoid, placing her hands on his upper arms as he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.

"It did not occur to me that you might have wanted to make plans for today until Mr Stark had gone into detail of his own itinerary today for his wife," he explained, handing her the bouquet. "Unfortunately I cannot procure a reservation for us tonight, but I still wish to do something for you. Would you allow me the honor of making you a meal and perhaps watching a movie in the private theater?"

You and Shaun gripped each other's hands like you were high schoolers watching their best friend get asked out on their first big date, shaking and pushing each other over the sweetness of the gesture. "I don't need fancy restaurants or pretty flowers, Vis. Getting to spend time with you, especially after everything that's happened to us, is more than enough. I just need you."

The Sokovian turned back to face you and Shaun, a touch of guilt in her expression. "Rain check? I'll bring extra snacks tomorrow night to make up for it?"

"Don't worry about it, Babes," you reassured her, both you and the martial artist waving off her worries. "Enjoy your evening."

The couple have you a curt nod and a smile before happily flying away hand in hand back to their apartment.

"And then there were five," you and Shaun said in unison, walking back to the common area to load up those barrels that Thor left for tonight's 'festivities'. When you got to the kitchen area, Morgan was adorably sitting atop one of the barrels in question, feet happily swinging in the air with a big smile on her face.

"Off the goods, little Stark, we're not risking you getting drunk your dad's gonna kill us," Shaun said in a panic, already lifting the little girl up and off the barrel and making her squeal and giggle as she giddily exclaimed "I'm flying!".

"If you really think that she can get drunk from osmosis, we have a lot to talk about, sweet little summer child," you joked, walking up to one barrel and starting to push it toward the garage. "Think you can use that ancient mystical ring magic for makeshift wheels so we don't bust out our lungs lugging this all the way to your truck?"

"I can assist you, darling." Your skin bristled at the sound of Loki's voice, taking every ounce of strength you had to not stiffen or recoil at his use of the word. He was only saying it out of habit. Probably a remnant of his upbringing as a prince on Asgard.

He didn't mean it the way you wanted -- more than anything -- for him to mean it.

"No need, Laufeyson, I've got it from here," Strange butted in, conjuring an energy shield with his magic that he slid under the barrels, starting to wheel them toward the garage. "Carry on. Oh and friendly advice, man to god? Your future girlfriend, you know, the one you're making this big gesture for? She might not appreciate you calling other women 'darling', so I highly recommend kicking the habit while it's still early. Avoiding future battles and all."

The god sucked his teeth, the action causing his jaw to clench and sending your thoughts someplace they had no business being. You had no business thinking about another woman's man that way, no matter how hot he was.

"I will remember that. Thank you, Strange," he said softly, making his way back up the stairs.

"Thanks for the save," you muttered, opening the door to the garage for the sorcerer to guide the barrels through. "Don't think I could've gotten away with being on Bitch Mode with him a second time today. Not like I can help it, though. Some lucky Midgardian bitch is gonna be his by the end of the night."

"Pretty sure you're the only woman I know that considers being Laufeyson's girlfriend a good thing."

"Yeah, Y/N, like I know he's on our side and everything but most days he still has me on edge. Like passing him on a bad day's gonna get me a stab in the ribs, not a death glare like normal people," Shaun concurred, nudging your shoulder to hopefully stop your lamenting before you got in too deep. Again.

"I'm really down bad, huh," you sighed, letting out a little yip when a portal to the dark dimension appeared just a few feet in front of you. "The fuck--"

"Hey Strange," a reverberating ethereal voice called out from the portal, and then a tall woman with platinum hair with beauty that you could only describe as 'dark celestial' stepped out. Her eyes trained on the sorcerer next to you. "Heard that today's something of a holiday in this dimension. Figured it might be a good idea to stop by and maybe you could show me around your uh…" She turned to you and Shaun, both your jaws slack on the ground. "What's this place called again?"

"Avengers Compound?" Shaun said at the same time that you blurted out, "New York?"

"Compound York?" She raised an eyebrow at the two of you, amusement coloring her face as she gave you both a once over.

"Eherm…no," you answered her, chuckling nervously and shifting your weight between your feet. "This structure here is Avengers Compound, which is in Upstate New York. New York is a city, but also a region…and a state…?" you drifted off, already feeling a pinch in your head from trying to explain the best you could. You looked over to Shaun. "The more I try finding the words to explain, the more I realize how complicated it actually is. Save me."

Stephen stepped forward. "How about I just take you on a tour around New York, then?" His face stretched out into a wide grin, clearly unable to hide his giddiness over the knowledge that she crossed dimensions to be with him today.

"Is that…New York the city, the region, or the state?"

"The city. New York, New York. There's a whole song about it and everything I can play it for you in the car." He proceeded to drape his arm around the dark sorceress, leading her to his car further down the expansive garage.

"Your little human friend is right, things here are complicated. Downright confusing." She looked back at you and Shaun again as they walked away, hand in hand. "It was nice meeting you both! Stephen speaks highly of you all," she called out, her majestic voice echoing throughout the area.

"You're really pretty!" you blurted out in response, causing her voice to melt into a chuckle, telling her partner how she found you 'adorable'. You threw your head back and groaned toward the ceiling. "I'm a fucking dork."

"At least you're an adorable dork," Shaun shot back, nudging your shoulder and lightly touching the back of your head to get you facing forward again. His phone chimed with a text notification. "Katy. Her shift's over, she said she'll get us a room for eight. I'm texting her now to get a smaller one." He held up his hand, palm facing you. "And then there were four?"

You sighed, clapping your hand against his, your friend giving you a reassuring squeeze once you did. "And then there were four." You jerked your head toward the apartments. "I'll just go change into something that involves 'eating pants' and I'll meet you down here in ten."

The walk back up to your apartment wasn't that long, but it still felt like it with how quickly you slipped back into your lamenting over how your friends had such an eventful day today. Nat had her very public grand gesture. Wanda had her husband trying to cook human food in the name of spending time with her. Strange had his girlfriend literally rip a hole between dimensions to get here.

"And all I have waiting for me are two barrels of mead and karaoke microphones," you muttered, walking through your front door and begrudgingly unzipping your dress from the back. You were just about to half-stomp your way to your closet when something on your bed caught your eye.

Three shiny roses lined with gold, tied together with a gold ribbon at the foot of the bed. A large heart-shaped box of chocolates at the center. And a little teddy bear dressed as a bee with red antennas that had hearts at the end, at its fluffy little feet was an embroidered message. "Bee mine".

"What theeeee fu--"

"Y/N," an all too familiar voice called out from behind you. The air left your lungs at the sight of Loki in a form-fitting forest green button-down tucked into onyx black slacks, tucking his hair behind his ears before smoothing his hands over his shirt. "You're early--"

"What're you doing--Was this you?" you babbled, gesturing at the gifts on your bed. For a second, your heart beat erratically, the thought that maybe this was for you, before reality and logic sunk in. "Okay I think I know what's happening…"

"You do?"

"Yeah, you got the wrong apartment. Gimme a minute to change and I can help you move all this over to--"

The rest of your words died in a little squeak at the back of your throat, the god closing the distance between you two with a few long strides, framing your face in his hands and placing a tender fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Those tokens of my affection are exactly where they belong, little mortal," he murmured against you, tracing up the bridge of your nose with his lips until he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "As am I."

You let out a shaky breath, fighting against the urge to melt in the god's embrace as he snaked his hands around your waist. "The gesture your brother mentioned this morning…this?" He proceeded to press kisses down the side of your face, his warm exhale as he whispered 'yes' into your skin making you light-headed. "This is for me?" you gasped out, whatever was remaining of your logical brain smacking the rest of you with how stupid a question that was.

"Who else would it be for, darling?" He pressed a kiss to your jaw, tightening his arms around you and pressing your body against his. "There is no other in this or any other Realm that could have captured my heart so completely." He kissed the corner of your jaw, making his way down the side of your neck, holding you tighter to keep you up when your knees finally buckled from the sensation. "I did this for you, because I wish to ask something of you. That you become mine as much as I am yours."

"M-Mine?" you stammered. "Y-You're mine?" Since when? How come you didn't get this particular memo? Could've saved you a lot of turmoil and nights spent alone staring up at the ceiling trying and failing to hypnotize yourself out of being into him.

He kissed the tip of your nose, resting his forehead against yours. "I have always been yours, darling."

Your hands traveled up the length of his arms, like you were grounding yourself and trying to tell yourself that this was real. He was really here and he was telling you the words you wanted more than anything to hear for who even knew how long at this point.

He's here, you thought to yourself. And he's mine.

There was only one word that you could muster up in that moment. "Yes." I've always been yours, too.

Karaoke Dreamin' on Such a Winter's Day group chat

myfirstnameisagent: Don't kill me but…rain check?

busboy10: Are you kidding me, Y/N?? You said you'd be down in 5 minutes tops and we're gonna meet up with Katy.

nromanoff: Sweet, now you're gonna have a story to tell tomorrow night, too.

myfirstnameisagent: Actually about that…rain check on tomorrow night, too? I'm kinda not there right now…

busboy10: There?? What do you mean "There"?? How'd you get out the Compound without me seeing you? Or whoever the hot date you're ditching me for is?

imjustwong: Where is everybody? We ordered nachos.

myfirstnameisagent: Yeah…I'm not in the Compound…or in New York…any of the "New York"s. Might not be for the next week. Maybe more. The three of you better not drink all the mead in one go.

busboy10: ??????

thevision: Agent Y/L/N, my wife is showing many signs of distress over her inability to contact you. Your phone seems to be going straight to voicemail.

thewanda: Y/N WHERE ARE YOU I HEARD A BANG FROM YOUR APARTMENT ARE YOU OKAY??

myfirstnameisagent: Babes, I'm fine. That was just the Bifrost.

thewanda: EXCUSE ME??

nromanoff: BABES WHAT--

pointbreakbarbie: My friends, I heard the Bifrost be summoned near Lady Y/N's abode. Is there an emergency? Must I make my way to Asgard to assist?

myfirstnameisagent: Thor your brother said if he finds you here I have permission to stab you, don't even fucking think about it.

thewanda: I REPEAT. EXCUSE ME???

busboy10: Y/N are you in Asgard?? With Loki??

myfirstnameisagent: Yes. And yes. See you in two weeks.

thewanda: He better use that healing magic on your legs so you don't walk funny.

A/N: It took me a whole month to write this because real life was trying TKO me in the work department and also I got sucked in to the worlds of Hello Kitty Island Adventure, Disney Dreamlight Valley, and Delicious World and I've been too weak to even attempt time management 🤣

I'm working on stuff tho I swear it 🫡 Horny bitches cuts are in progress, stories are in progress…lots of progress 😅😅

Also for reference, this was the lil stuffed bear that Loki gave Reader:

and the roses looked like this:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears

[quinnysnursery]

Awesome! Well I'm just gonna put it now cuz I CAN'T HOLD IT IN ANYMORE BSJSJDN

You wake up little but your caregiver (whoever you like I'm thinking Matt or Chris in this scenario tho) wakes up really sick. Like REALLY sick. In fact, you have to come out of little space and be big again to help them out. It takes a day or two but they feel much better soon with your help! But you can't help be agitated and emotional because you're constantly on the verge of going into headspace and you just need to be little! Your schedule was all messed up and the big you needs a break! Eventually the dam breaks and you burst into tears and the caregiver just hugs you close, shushing you and pressing kisses to your hair

"It's okay, baby, you can be little now.. thank you for helping dada when he was icky, I feel so much better now! It's okay, you can be my little baby, sweet one."

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk 🥹

-🎀

[🥤] in sickness & in health | chris sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!chris sturniolo x gn!little!reader

summary : tbh just read the request cus i can't think of how to put it in other words

warning/extra tid-bits : surpressing regression, crying, i used y/n, i think thats all!!

word count : 1,153

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (stars from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : been in my inbox since june 4th i gotta post this for ari😭 (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

It’s obvious to you as soon as you wake up that you’d be regressing today- a comfortable cloudy haze looming over your head was practically begging you to forget the stressors of adult life and slip into littlespace.

So, that’s exactly what you did! As you got ready for the day, you made sure to strategically pick out clothes that you knew little you would deem sensory friendly. After getting ready for the day, you bounded downstairs- in search of your loving caregiver, Chris.

That’s when your plans for the day were foiled. Just as you made it to the first floor of the house, your eyes instantly recognized the bundle of blankets on the couch to be your caregiver…that wasn’t like him. Sure, Chris wasn’t a morning person by any means but he always made sure to wake before you. 

“Chw’is?” You called out, it was evident in your voice that your headspace wasn’t far away. Chris peaked up from out of the blankets, nose raw and red from the amount of times he’d had to blow it. “G’morning…” Chris croaked, his throat aching with every syllable spoken. 

You stared at Chris blankly, he looked sick. Like- sad Victorian child sick. You blinked in surprise as Chris began a coughing fit, each cough sounding more painful than the last.

That almost instantly ripped the comfortable cloudy haze away from you, all the stressors of adult life coming back to you in an instant.

“Do you feel okay?” You asked, realizing that Chris needed you more than you needed regression right now. Chris gave you a look that asked “What do you think?”

“I’ll get started on some soup, you just sit there.” You comforted, moving to the kitchen and instantly searching the pantry for the canned soup that the triplets kept for cases just like this. You were a bit disappointed about the fact you wouldn’t be able to regress today, but hearing Chris begin another coughing fit from the living room was enough to keep you busy. 

You could wait to regress…hopefully.

The day continued on as expected, Chris had more coughing fits and went through five boxes of tissues whilst you sat right by his side promising him that it wasn’t a bother to take care of him- which was true! You honestly didn’t mind heating him up soup, finding new boxes of tissues or couch-rotting with your best friend.

Sure, you’d slipped up a couple times by letting your mind wander to what you two could’ve been doing had your plans for regressing not been foiled but it was fine. You were fine.

“M’ gonna head to bed.” Chris grumbled, exhausted despite the fact he spent the day taking couch naps. You look up from your phone, nodding quickly- a twinge of sadness in your heart. One of your favorite parts of regression was your bedtime routine with Chris.

“G’night.” He mumbled out before stumbling upstairs- blanket around his shoulders. When Chris was finally upstairs, you stretched out on the couch- flicking on the television. You flipped through a few streaming services before winding up on Disney+, your eyes immediately trailing to the latest episode of your favorite show.

You hovered over it with the remote, a white highlight glowing around the show’s icon. 

No. You couldn’t. You knew the second you heard the theme song- your headspace that had been taunting you all day would instantly come crashing down. You clicked off the TV, flipping over on the couch and deciding to sleep there for the night instead- afraid that you’d regress if you got to cuddle next to your caregiver.

Three days had passed before Chris was able to swallow without any pain and breath freely. He was still exhausted, but he was getting better. In those two days, you’d done everything in your power to not regress. 

You’d been sleeping on the couch or in Matt and Nick’s room so as to not regress during nighttime. You’d been actively avoiding any media you knew your regressed self would like- cartoons, toys, arts and crafts…anything.

Honestly, it was hell. After the second day, you felt your brain practically begging you to regress and get away from the stressors of your everyday life. It was as if your muscles were aching to be held by your caregiver.

“Y/n?” Chris called, he finally sounded like himself again and not a mucus ridden monster. You looked up from your phone, smiling at the brunette boy. “Yeah?” You asked, trying to play it cool. 

“You okay? You’ve been staring at that same instagram post for the past twenty minutes.” He laughed, motioning to your phone with his hand. You hadn’t even realized- you’d been too caught up in your own thoughts.

“Oh, sorry.” You apologized, swiping out of the app. Chris’ brows furrowed at this, he crouched down next to the couch to meet your eyes- you hated how your brain instantly felt the urge to regress. “Hey…what’s going on? You feel okay?” The boy asked, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You pull away, wrinkling up your nose and accidentally allowing a soft whine to escape from the back of your throat.

Only then did it hit Chris- you hadn’t regressed in nearly three days.

“Oh baby…c’mere.” Chris stood up, attempting to pull you into his chest. You instantly pushed him away, shaking your head “N-no! ‘our not all ‘e way better yet! Got’sa take care of ‘ou!” You cried out, frustrated tears brimming your eyes- you wanted to curl up in Chris’ lap but he needed you more right now.

Chris felt his heart break, instantly taking a seat next to you on the couch. “Baby…I feel better now, okay?” He comforted, causing you to let out a sniffle as you wiped your eyes with your sweater sleeve. “C’mere sweetheart…” He cooed, opening up his arms.

You pondered it for a moment, Chris said he was feeling better…and you really wanted his cuddles right now. You pulled the throw blanket off of yourself, instantly curling up into your caregivers lap and letting him wrap his arms around you.

“I missed my little baby so much,” He hummed, instantly feeling better with his little one in his arms. “Thank you for takin’ care of me sweetheart, you did such’a good job.” Chris smiled, resulting in you giving him a small smile as you snuggled further into his chest.Sure, pushing off your regression sucked and later you and Chris would have a discussion on ways you could both make sure you were being taken care of but right now the two of you curled up on the couch, throw blanket draped lazily over you as the latest episodes of your favorite cartoon began playing.

Both secure with the fact that you’d always look out for each other, in sickness and in health.

taglist !! :

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @flow3rsturns13 @pkfferoo @pixxiies @mattsturnswhore @17welch17 @pinksikhewei @v33angel @mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart @pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx @tyummyz

(and ofc thank you so much to the lovely @starri-nightss for requesting this)

[de4dlyniightshade]

i'm having a Sad Day, do u have spence/chip/raymond hcs about how they'd react to u struggling to do basic tasks like getting out of bed/showering?

(yes i am using u for therapy bc i don't have irl therapy this week love u)

i don't have therapy at all but definitely should🤞

꩜ PAIRING: spencer/chip/raymond x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: none

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: mentions of depression/very low motivation and mood.

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

A/N: couldn't pick so i did all three🤞

spencer:

doesn't really understand at first bcs he's very stuck in his routine no matter how he feels but as soon as you explain that you're just really no feeling it he understands completely.

gives you space to spend however long you want in bed but definitely routinely checks on you.

brings you food when he makes himself something and eats with you.

if you're struggling to shower on your own he absolutely will shower with you, washing your hair and your body.

if it's ever really bad he insists on calling into work so he can stay with you for as long as possible.

brings you any and all foods that promote serotonin like the seeds and nuts penelope brought him.

chip:

understanding immediately and grudges going to work if you're sulking in bed but knows that the money he does get will be spent mostly on you.

speaking of which, will bring in your favourite snacks after work and bring them to you when he gets home.

lays in bed with you for however long you'll let him.

will jokingly drag you out of bed to shower with him, pouting and fake crying until you give in because he knows a shower will make you feel better.

so so so many kisses and hugs.

takes you for a nice long drive to relax and get you some fresh air without you having to walk anywhere.

plays music really loud and convinces you to dance with him.

brushes your hair.

raymond:

rots with you.

will absolutely stay in bed and sleep with you for hours, even into the afternoon if you want.

very understanding of your situation bcs he's been there before and knows what it's like.

doesn't force you to do anything but encourages you a lot, making sure you know you don't have to but he's there for you if you need him.

feeds you well, anything and everything you want.

stoner ray is true in my heart so will light up with you and get as wasted as physically possible until you're both in another world.

tells you how proud he is of you when you bring yourself to shower.

kisses you on the cheek all the time.

[angrywerewolfbeliever]

How I manifested getting into my dream school

*For some context, high school in my country is for fifteen to nineteen year olds*

I've always loved academics, and I've always been very smart, and because of that, I really wanted to go to this one particular, very academically challenging high school that is very difficult to get into.

For all of middle school, I kept thinking and worrying about whether or not I'd get in. I already knew about reality shifting and manifestation, and I believed it fully, but I was ridiculously misinformed, insecure, limiting, and inconsistant, so it's really no suprise that didn't get me anywhere.

Anyway, to get into this school you need to take an exam. I procrastinated studying for it, and the closer I got to the dreaded exam, the more I doubted my intelligence, manifestation as a whole, and most importantly, the likeness of me getting in.

After the exam, my anxiety worsened, especially because I didn't get into another school I applied to.

Safe to say, when the results came in, I was told I didn't get in.

Was I devastated? Yes. Did I want to rot in bed, soaking in self-pity? Also yes. Did I do that? No.

I don't think I had ever wanted anything more than to get in, so I sure as hell wasn't going to give up so easily.

I pulled myself together and said to myself, "No. I did get in. This is a mistake." This was immediately after I got the results. Of course, I still felt sad and disappointed, but I shoved those feelings down as deep as possible. For the next two weeks, I affirmed that I'm going to that school in the upcoming September, I checked what bus I'll need to take, I imagined me and my friend who did get in talking about how excited we are to be classmates, etc.

I knew that a second wave of people would get accepted in a couple of months, so my main affirmation was that I would be one of them and that I'd be first in line.

For the next two weeks, I spent all my free time, whether it was break between classes or walking my dog, affirming. Whenever I found myself thinking, "What if I don't get in?" I'd immediately tell myself to shut up, and I'd continue affirming. After a couple of days, my affirmations started popping up in my mind by themselves. After a week, I fully believed them. It didn't matter anymore that I didn't have the physical proof.

And guess what? My mom got an email from the school telling her that I got in. Keep in mind that those results weren't supposed to be out for a couple more months. I was first in line after all the others that got in and a spot opened. Not only was i first in line, but the amount of points that separated me from the last person who got in on result day was 0.05!

Now I go to that school and I couldn't be happier :)

The takeaway from this is:

1. Manifestation is incredibly simple,

2. Persist, persist, persist,

3. Circumstances don't fucking matter,

4. The 3D is your bitch and it's going to show you whatever you want it to so don't care if you're seeing the opposite,

5. Believe in yourself!!!

With love,

Venus

[crush-like-that]

byler ficlet, i suppose

in relation to this post

________

"You know, my mom told me that, one day, I'd fall in love." Mike startles out of his thoughts, blinking a few times before he looks at Will. The two of them are strewn across Mike's bed, all lazy and half asleep from the heat. Not unbearable heat, but the comfortable kind, the kind that feels like a pile of blankets fresh from the dryer. The light that pours in from the window is no help, either, all golden and honey like. Up until Will had spoken, Mike wasn't sure if he was entirely awake. He realizes that he's been quiet too long, staring too long, and he opens his mouth to reply. Will beats him to it. "I thought she was crazy, said I'd never do that." Will looks... sad. It's a hard emotion for Mike to understand, it's difficult to find one word for it. It feels like the loss of hope. The acceptance of reality. Something Mike can't really begin to understand, and he hates it. Mike knows everything about Will, he can pick up on the slightest of changes. He's spent so much of his life just watching. Reading Will is practically second nature. So when Mike can't understand him, it's unnerving. He hesitates again, looking for the proper words. "Did you? Fall in love, I mean." Mike doesn't know if that's the right question to ask. Maybe he's pushing a boundary, maybe Will is going to scoff and leave Mike here to rot in his own room. Will smiles. Mike knows he hasn't made a mistake, hasn't fucked up his friendship again. But it's not a happy smile and that's obvious enough. Again comes the look of loss. Loss, loss, loss. Loss of what? What could have left Will looking like this? "I did," Will says, and his voice sounds incredibly small. "I was already in love when I said it, but I just... I don't deserve it, I think."

Just a few words, and Mike is on high alert. He sits up straighter, leaning in just so he's closer to Will. Will knows how serious Mike is, he has to. "You do. You deserve love." Mike can't begin to explain why the idea of Will being unworthy of love feels so wrong. His mind is racing and, not for the first time, he lets the thoughts tumble out of his mouth. "You're great, Will. More than great. You're my best friend, okay? Like- no that's not right. I mean, you are my best friend! But I just mean that you are the best friend. You understand everything so well, you know what to say and when to say it, when to wait and when to push. You're smart in so many ways and you're kind of a nerd. You tease your siblings and your friends, but no one can ever be mad cause it's funny. You're sweet, Will, too sweet for your own good. Everyone loves you! I'm positive that you're going to meet someone who loves you just the way you deserve." Mike pauses before nodding and folding his hands in his lap. That's... right. It's all true and he hopes it gets his point across.

The room falls quiet again, air thick with some sort of tension. Mike's eyes stay on Will, the same as always. Watching, staring, waiting for the slightest change. So he notices the slight pink that creeps its way up Will's cheeks. He notices it and he knows he's not wrong because it certainly wasn't there a few minutes ago. "You really mean that?" The question catches Mike off guard and again, it feels wrong that Will is doubting. Mike would never lie to Will, certainly not things like this.

"Every word." There's a sort of certainty to his voice, a deep rooted confidence that he hasn't expressed in years. Mike has always thought highly of Will, but who wouldn't. Who wouldn't love Will? Will is... well Will is Will. There's no one else like him. He's kind and caring and quick with sarcastic comments. He has great manners and tends to be a bit shy in front of new people. He's soft and subtle, the same way the light is from the window. Mike doesn't think he'd connected that before. Will reminds him of early Saturday mornings, waking up when the sun hasn't yet completely risen, so the light comes in heavy waves. Heavy, heavy, heavy, the warmth and comfort is nearly enough to lull him back to sleep. But to sleep would mean to miss the beauty of it, all golden and bright with oranges and occasional pinks. It's subtle, such a contrast from the blaring sun at noon. Mike by no means knows anything about art, but that early morning golden light? It's a masterpiece of nature, there's no denying it. And Will is like that in every sense. Soft smiles with teeth that just barely poke out, bubbling laughter, moles that create the most perfect constellations, strong jaw and strong build that is in no way sharp. All warm, soft, subtle, and beautiful. Mike can't let himself think about it too long, lest he discover something new about himself.

Apparently, Mike has been staring too long, because Will fidgets with his hands and clears his throat nervously. Before Mike can fully process what he’s doing, he simply continues talking. “On top of all that, you look really nice. Objectively, I mean.” Will’s eyes go wide and suddenly he’s staring back at Mike but Mike can’t stop now so he just averts his gaze and keeps going. He gestures with his hands as he talks, desperately hoping that he doesn’t look too embarrassed. “I mean, you’ve got- shit. You’ve got a nice jaw structure. And you’re–” with one hand, he points to Will and, with the other, moves his hand across his own chest “-- broad, and I think girls like that. Your eyes are really pretty, too, they’re-” Mike pauses for a second, leaning in just a bit closer and squinting as he studies Will’s eyes. “Wow, actually I take back what I was going to say. There’s so many different colors going on there. It’s like a kaleidoscope, but with more natural colors. Does that make sense? And you’ve got a really addictive laugh, like once you hear it you’ll do anything to hear it again. And you just-” Mike lets the sentence fall flat as he finally looks back to Will, who looks about as red as Mike feels. He isn’t sure why he said any of it, but he did, and it’s out there now. There’s no taking it back. Mike doesn’t think he’d want to take it back, though, even if he could. Will’s cheeks are rosy and his kaleidoscope eyes won’t stop shifting, newly colored flecks appearing constantly. "You're just you, Will." His voice comes out too soft, too gentle, to honest. Too obvious. But Will has to know he's serious. "I don't know how anyone couldn't love you."

[cecropiacrown]

Hello my friend! :)

What about #30, for the kiss prompt, since you are feeling sick?💜 (If you feel like it of course, no pressure!💜)

Thanks, Lucky (: I had a lot of fun with this one <3

#30 a kiss as comfort

It’s dumb and Mu Qing chastises himself for it, but there’s just something about a rainy day that makes him feel unbearably melancholic. 

He looks out the living room window and stares at the heavy clouds that loom above. They’re swollen with the promise of more rain, as if the onslaught of it for the past 36 hours wasn’t enough. For now, the city has been graced with at least a few dry moments while the clouds tirelessly debate on when to deliver the next downpour. Waiting and knowing more rain is inevitable just makes Mu Qing feel a bit hopeless.

The world outside is so horribly grey and it casts his and Feng Xin’s apartment in broody little shadows. Ah, and that’s something new. His and Feng Xin’s apartment. Mu Qing and Feng Xin are… together now. They live together. They eat meals together. They sleep in the same bed together (just sleep, because Mu Qing isn’t quite ready for more than that yet.) And, somehow, Mu Qing is okay. 

He’s not sure why, but some part of him was convinced that receiving even a sliver of the affection that he’d spent years yearning for would cause him to fall apart. But now he knows firsthand what it’s like to be held and cherished and accepted just for being himself, and he is, surprisingly, still whole. The clouds seem to have finally come to some sort of agreement because the rain begins to fall again, all at once. Mu Qing shivers and watches it come, rubbing his hands together to try to bleed some warmth back into himself. Looking at the sky as it is now always reminds Mu Qing of how truly small he is, in the grand scheme of things, and the weight of it settles over his heart like a cinder block.

He’s sad.

It’s a simple way to put it, but it’s ultimately what it boils down to. 

“Hey.”

Feng Xin’s morning voice is quiet and still a bit raspy from the last lingering tendrils of sleep. He leans up against the corner where the living room wall wraps into the hallway leading to their bedroom. Mu Qing glances at him from the corner of his eye, but doesn’t say anything. Feng Xin is looking at him with more fondness than Mu Qing knows what to do with. He turns his attention back to the window and watches the rain as it slicks the tiles of the neighboring roof and accumulates in the gutter that’s packed to the brim with rotting leaves.

Mu Qing doesn’t have to look at Feng Xin to know he’s being watched. He feels those eyes on him, hot like noon on a summer day, and it makes him feel weak.

He hears Feng Xin approach the couch and then he feels the dip of the other man’s weight pressing into the cushion beside him. “You doing okay, Qing-er?” “Mh,” Mu Qing hums, eyes still aimed at the window but not really focusing on anything in particular.

Each raindrop that tinks against the windowpane feels like a pebble being added to a jar in Mu Qing’s soul. He feels like he’s sinking. A familiar arm snakes its way around Mu Qing’s waist and he finds himself being pulled up against Feng Xin, his back pressed to Feng Xin’s front. Feng Xin is still warm from being in bed and something about his presence makes Mu Qing feel soft.

Feng Xin rests his chin on Mu Qing’s shoulder and wraps both his arms firmly around Mu Qing’s waist. He prods that sharp, freckled nose of his at the underside of Mu Qing’s jaw and then back further at the hollow behind his ear. 

“I’ve got you, love,” he whispers. And then his lips are pressed against Mu Qing’s temple in a kiss so full of love, Mu Qing isn’t sure how he manages to take it. He feels Feng Xin smile against him, like he’s easy to love, and a knot Mu Qing didn’t even know was there unravels from his stomach.

Mu Qing’s heart melts and melts and melts, sticky sweet like syrup, and he lets himself lean into Feng Xin’s touch like he might even deserve it.

And maybe the rain isn’t so heavy anymore.

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 23

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Warning for strong themes of suicide in this chapter because of Beth, and well, everything else.

Herschel left the farm all by himself while we was out.

As the sun sets behind the porch railing, Lori explains to Rick and Glenn that Beth's in shock — the thing I was in this morning. She tries to mutter it under her beath, but I hear just fine that she tried to kill herself by slicing her wrists up. Different to how Momma did it, but I know just about every way there is, and that's one of 'em. If I were Beth, I would'a just jumped out the window. Prolly would'a worked, but maybe she didn't want it to. Lori and Patricia found her just in time to save her. She's laid up in bed now, apparently still staring at the wall.

Rick keeps glancing at me throughout the whole conversation. I don't know why he's doin' it, but I wish he'd cut it out.

Herschel told us today he'd learnt what grit was, but I guess he ain't learned enough to deal with his daughter wantin' to die, 'cause he hopped in his truck and took a trip to town to get away from it all. Maggie begs the two of 'em to go bring him back, and they agree.

"You got any guesses where he might'a gone?" Rick asks, putting his hat back on. Always savin' people. "Parks, stores, houses?"

"Hatlin's." She answers unhappily. "Bar on main street. He practically lived there in his drinking days. If he's gone anywhere, it's there."

I can't imagine Herschel in a bar. My Daddy and Uncle Merle used to rot away in bars when they was angry or sad, but that was them.

Rick must be thinking the same thing. "I didn't take Herschel for a drinker."

"He gave it up the day I was born." She half-smiles. "Didn't even allow liquor in the house... But not anymore, I guess."

"I've seen the place." Glenn assures her, holding her shoulder and turning to Rick. "I can drive us there."

"Okay." Before they turn to leave, he murmurs to Lori, "Does Daryl know 'bout Beth yet?"

She shakes her head and glances at me, too.

He warns her, "Well, you're gonna want to. Harley's been havin' a tough go of it and I ain't sure how this is... gonna affect her."

She gives a look of understanding. "I'll go talk to him now."

When he comes down the steps, he crouches in front of me. He's got his Dad-face on, the one that's all nice and reassuring.

"Hey, you did good today." He tells me. "How 'boutchu go find Carl and read some comic books together or something for a while?"

"Alright." I lilt, watching him gently clap me on my shoulder before following Glenn down the path toward the cars.

But as soon as they're gone, I don't go find Carl. I take myself around the side of the house and slouch between two old barrels in the grass, hiding from everyone. I've gotten real good at swallowing down the need to cry, so that's what I do. At some point, the darn ringing returns.

I wish some little animal would cross paths with me, so I could take my knife out and stab it dead. That'd make me feel better.

Merle would smack me if he saw me like this. Don't cry, Harley. Don't cry. Been a long, long day, but you don't gotta cry.

The sun soon disappears under the earth.

"Sh, sh, sh. Baby, it's okay." The night is quiet, but our little tent is filled with my pent-up sobs. "It's okay."

I wish I could go to sleep like everyone else, but I can't. The day's finally caught up with me. Rick and Glenn still haven't returned, but the farm's been a mess without 'em all the same. Dad's been watching me like a hawk since Lori spoke with him, and dinner was spent in silence, and I been trying not to cry for hours. He keeps crooning the same thing to me over and over. It's okay. I hear that stupid lie every time things aren't okay. It don't get any more okay-er no matter how hard I bawl or scream into his shoulder, or wish with all my heart and all my body, right down to my toes, that I weren't such a little wuss. I wish Sophia was alive. I wish Shane made it to Fort Benning.

Seems I'm always hurting. If anyone asked me what I did best, I'd say this. Sometimes feels like all I was made for.

I did good faking my way through the day, but as soon as I laid my head down to go to sleep and realized that I couldn't no more 'cause of my ear, I finally broke. Can't shoot, can't hear, can't sleep. Everything, even the way I curl up at night, been stripped from me.

"It's not okay," I moan, hating that when I close my eyes, I can still see the things I don't wanna. "S'all wrong. It hurts."

"I know it does, chicken. But I'm 'ere. I'm always here." He murmurs into my hair, holding me even tighter to his chest. "Just get it all out."

I wanna tell him I can't, it don't work that way. If you could cry yer sadness out, I would'a lost all mine by now. But he already knows. Just like me, he's made up of sadness. Most people say we're alike 'cause our matching scowls, our little moles. But more than anythin', it's that.

I don't think I've ever been this type of angry before. There's just nowhere to put it. There's no-one to blame. It's just inside me. And I think it'll be there forever, like my bones are. There's no use being sour at Rick or Dad for killin' Shane. You can't get mad at people when there's no right or wrong to it, when they was just doin' what needed to be done. Shane was crazy, we've always said it. He done so many things he shouldn't have. No, I ain't mad at them for that. Or at Glenn, or T, or Andrea for helping 'em. Not at the bullet that shot my ear off, not at the Greenes' God for takin' all my friends away. I'm just angry at being alive.

"He said it was gonna be d-different this time." He said a whole bunch'a things, but that one I remember. "Daddy, I want it t'be different."

"It will be, baby. It will. I'mma keep you safe with everythin' I got, okay?" At least that one's not a lie. "You know that."

"But I'on care about me." I pull back, my fingers twisted in his tank top. "It's everyone else that's dead. It's Shane and Sophia a-and Momma and Merle and Morales and prolly Meemaw and Kyle and my cousins. I'm sick of it! Ain't no point in movin' on if people gonna keep dyin'!"

"Don't talk like that, Harley Dixon." He gently scolds, brows twitching into a frown. "Don'tchu ever. There is a point."

Well, I don't get it no more. "I ca-an't even sleep properly, Dad."

"Well, let's just try again. You can lay on yer other side." He offers. "Dad'll read you another story, huh? Or you want me to sing again?"

"No." I croak miserably. I don't want a story. I don't even want a song. "Even if I go to sleep, t-that's ruined, too. I get nightmares. And when I wake up, it's the same thing all over again. Eatin' scraps and cryin' and takin' ringing meds just for somethin' else bad to happen."

"That's the way life is, Harley." He tells me, a little stricter this time. "I can't change it any more than you can. People die—"

"People mourn," I quote him with a roll of my wet eyes, "Life moves on. I heard."

"Stop it." He don't like that I mocked him, not one bit. Not when it comes to this. "It's true. We move on. We keep livin'."

"Well, maybe I don't wanna. Maybe I'm done."

Herschel says I got a thing called grit. Dad says I'm his brave girl. Carl thinks I'm some sorta badass, but really I'm just a nasty, broken little thing called Harley Dixon. I don't wanna keep living if living's full of death. Maybe it's better the other way. Beth thinks so. Momma sure did, too. I never got to ask her if it worked out like she wanted and got all her sadness taken away, but I like to think it did. I like to think there's no bad things where she is, only good and happy things. She ain't watched Shane die. She ain't stood at Sophia's grave. She ain't hurtin'.

"Little girl," Dad's voice is thin and shaky like a whisper, but also very, very, very angry. "I know you ain't just said that."

I stare right back at him through my tears without a word, 'cause I did say that. Not to hurt him, but because it's the truth.

He slowly starts shaking his head. "Nah, I ain't raised you this way. I ain't raised a girl that gives up."

My wobbly frown deepens. "So that's what Momma was, then? She was weak?"

"Yes. Weak an' stupid." He says unapologetically. "And I won't have you talkin' like her. Over my dead body, girl, I won't have it."

"And how's that?" I challenge him. "You gonna make Sophia come back? You gonna fix my ear? You gonna make Shane—?"

"Weren't me that did that, Harley. Weren't Rick, weren't nobody but himse—"

"—Come back? You gonna kiss it all better and sing a song?" I taunt, shouting in his face, "They're all dead!"

"I know they are." He argues, taking a moment to suck in a breath. "I'm sorry I ain't find Sophia. I'm sorry 'boutcher ear. I'm sorry you're hurtin' and I can't do nothin' about it, but this type'a talk ain't what's gonna help you, Harley. It's bein' strong. You gotta be stronger."

"But I ain't," I tell him, and the tears are back now, streaming down my face, 'cause I'm right. I ain't strong. "I'm just nothin'."

"You're my little girl, is whatchu are." He says sternly, voice cracking. "I love you more'un anythin'. How you think hearin' that makes me feel?"

Probably makes him see the little traces of Momma on my face. Makes him feel like he's failing the same woman twice.

But I'm just so tired, and I just don't care. "I'on care how it makes you feel, Daddy. I'on care 'bout nothin' anymore."

Being empty must be worse than being full of somethin' like anger, 'cause this is the thing that really gets to him. Under his pair of twisted brows, his sharp eyes start to well up, his mouth curls into a sneer. The crickets outside chirp happily either way, dutifully filling the silence that comes. For the first time, I think my Dad is wrong about something. There is no point in moving on. Bein' strong, that's a waste. Shane said we deserve for things to go differently, go better in some way that ain't so cruel, but it didn't. It won't.

"You're fuckin' scarin' me, Harley." He utters thinly. "You ain't never talked like this."

I know. I ain't never stayed down after a hit, but I been strong for so long, I think it's just ran out.

I don't answer him. Instead I confess quietly, "I think I wanna go sleep in somebody else's tent tonight, Dad."

I need out this stuffy tent. If I could sleep alone in a hole somewhere, I would. I'm done arguing. And he's done, too. He wordlessly slides me off his lap and helps me gather my bedding, trying his best not to tear up more than he already is, muttering to himself, swiping at his eyes. He leads me back to main camp, where all the lamps are shut off and the fire pits are smoking. The night air cools my hot, red cheeks. 

He taps his knuckles onto a crate just outside the Grimes' tent, and before he even steps back, there's shuffling inside.

The zipper peels back, revealing Lori's sleepy, moon-lit face. She takes us in with a confused look. "Daryl? What are you doing over here?"

"Listen, I'm sorry for wakin' ya." He murmurs, putting on a level voice. "Came to ask you if... Harley can bunk with you guys tonight."

"Uh, sure." She agrees kindly, encouraging me to step inside by my shoulder, taking my sleeping bag from Dad. "Everything alright?"

"No." He answers gruffly. No point in lying. He don't give up anything else, and she don't pry. He places a kiss to my hair. "Night, chicken."

"Night, Dad." I force myself to say back, 'cause I'm grateful he ain't just kept me stuck in our tent, and that he really listened.

As he gives me one last glance and then leaves, Lori zips the tent up and lays my bedding down next to hers and Rick's. Carl snoozes away in the corner, an open comic book splayed out over his chest. I bet Lori knows what's the matter with me. Rick saw that thousand-yard stare I had after they killed Shane, knows how I been hating myself. He no doubt told her everything. But she's too nice to say anything.

"Here, sweetie." She takes my lumpy pillow and sets it down. I wiggle into the sleeping bag. "Comfy?"

I give a nod, even though laying on my back feels real strange and I don't got Matilda anymore.

She smiles blearily and crawls back under the covers. "Wake me up if you need anything."

And that's that. I stare up at the sky through the Grimes' tent, counting the stars through the black mesh until I fall asleep.

Sometime during the night, I bolt awake, sweating, crying, confused. Shane, I couldn't save him. I watched him die. Again. A gunshot, blood, shouting, dying, searing pain and a dog tag dangling from a broken mirror. Darkness, and then two little hands on my shoulders, shaking me. A boyish, worried voice telling me, hey, it's just a nightmare. I cling to them. Carl. He's here. I don't think before I let him hug me. I sniffle into his neck as he pets the soft spot between my shoulder blades like his Momma and Daddy do when he's upset.

"It was him again," I shudder. "Shane. I miss him. I miss all of 'em."

Life moves on, Daddy said. But how's it that mine ain't? When's that moving part happen?

"Me, too." His arms tighten around me as much as a boy's can. "You're allowed."

After that, I remember the sound of blankets shuffling, a flashlight clicking on, a comic book being quietly read to me. I remember my eyes closing, heart slowing, and I remember thinking he's gonna be the best big brother one day. In a way, he already is.

The next morning, my eyes flutter open to the sight of a quiet, empty tent. By some miracle, I must've slept in a little. I hear the fire crackling away outside, the clinking of spoons on bowls, muffled conversation. After taking a minute to yawn and stretch, I crawl out the tent.

"Ah, there she is." As I round the camping chairs, Dale sends me a warm smile. I take the seat next to him. "Just in time for breakfast."

I glance up at the second storey of the farmhouse, imagining Beth behind one of those pretty windows. I wonder how she feels about waking up this morning. I know I'm exhausted, and all I've done is open my eyes. Another day of eating scraps, crying, and taking pills. Ironically enough, Lori interrupts my spacing out by holding out two little white capsules and a water bottle to me. She's speaking, but I'm not hearing her. I throw both pills back and wash 'em down so I don't gotta look at 'em any longer. I hate that my body can't work on its own anymore.

"Harley." Lori's voice comes quick and sharp this time, startling me. "Are you listening?"

I glare up at her. She's standing so close to me that I don't know how I couldn't hear what she said the first time. "Huh?"

She looks at me like I've done something strange. "I said, 'You can't take those on an empty stomach'. Are you hungry?"

"Oh. Yeah." Now everyone's lookin' at me like that. I reach under my hair and nervously tug on my ear as she turns and fills a bowl with the creamy soup cooking over the fire. I've never not been able to catch what someone's saying like that. She hands the food to me. "Thanks."

As conversation picks up again, I struggle to pin certain words being said, especially when they're from Andrea, who's sitting the furthest from me, and Lori, on my left. S'like half the world's gone silent, and the other half's just a high-pitch squeal. God, it's makin' me mad. I claw at my ear again, as if there's somethin' stuck in there, like a wad of earwax or a cork, but there ain't nothin' in there but the ringing.

A scary thought crosses my mind. If you can't hear for no good reason, that means you're deaf. I can't be deaf.

When Andrea looks directly at me and says something that I think's meant to be a joke, I snap back, "I can't fuckin' hear you, Andrea."

Her smile drops pretty fast, but I don't feel bad. I feel frightened. To my surprise, I don't get told by anyone to mind my language.

Lori just looks at me all pitiful-like and hesitates to guess, "Is it the ringing?" 

I'm tired of hearing about the ringing almost as much as I'm tired of hearing the ringing itself. "It ain't the damn— I just can't hear proper."

She glances side-long at Dale. "Herschel did say..."

He sighs, looking a little stressed, before scooting his chair closer to mine and clicking his fingers on my right ear. "What about that?"

It sounds like a far-away thud, thud, thud, where it should actually sound like a snap, snap, snap.

"S'dull." I mutter unconfidently. 

He moves to my left ear. This time, there isn't even any thud, thud, thud at all. It's just silence.

When I say nothing, he leans back. "I'm no doctor, but... It seems very obvious to me."

I'm not a doctor neither, and neither is Lori or T or Andrea or Carl, but it's all rather obvious to us, too. I can tell, 'cause they're all lookin' pretty uncomfortable, like this discovery has already ruined the rest of my life as I'm just sitting here. I'm losing hearing in my left ear. That's what it is. As soon as Dad mentioned my hearing to Herschel, and when it got worse at shooting practice, I was scared this would happen.

Ain't nobody shocked. I was never gonna walk away from a gunshot to the side of the head with all my hearing intact.

I guess whenever somebody talks, I'll just have to try reading their lips.

"I had a teacher who was deaf." Carl offers this up like it means anything. "She was really nice and smart. Everyone liked her."

I almost feel like scoffing at him, Wow, thanks so much, Carl. You've cured me.

"It's really nothing." Lori's quick to reassure me, covering for his shitty attempt. "Hundreds of people live like this and they still thrive."

"Hell, I think I'm going deaf sometimes, too." Dale jokes. "And I'd say I'm doing alright, wouldn't you?"

"Sure, Dale." I try to chuckle, staring down at my cold soup.

Nobody mentions the fact that having sharp senses is what keeps you alive nowadays. If a walker sneaks up on me, I won't hear it.

It's then that Dad walks into camp, looking nearly as tired as I feel. He mutters a good morning to everyone, and Lori reluctantly stands to go collect my bedding for him. I waste no time hopping out my seat and going over to hug him, locking my arms around his neck as he kneels to hold me close. I said a whole lotta things last night, and so did he, but I don't think either of us is angry at the other over it. We can read each other well enough to know. He kisses my cheek before pulling back and taking my things from Lori.

Clearing his throat like he does when he might cry, he asks me, "You sleep well, chicken?"

Instead of answering, I just hug his waist and Lori changes the subject. "Daryl, just a heads up. That thing Herschel spoke about..."

"Damn it." He sighs when what she's implying clicks. He reaches down to soothingly pet my hair. "And they still ain't back, are they?"

"No. But we both know Harley and Beth are... in some type of way. We need him."

"And y'all want me to go and fetch him, huh?" He guesses, taking a long moment to consider. Then, "Y'all be grateful you been good to me."

"Thank you, Daryl." She exclaims. "Thank you. We've always been able rely on you."

He scoffs. "Maybe not always."

"Well, enough." She smiles. "They said they were headed to a bar in town called Hatlin's. I think you'll wanna head there first."

"There even gonna be anythin' he can do?" He mumbles so I can barely make it out. "I mean, the guy ain't David Copperfield."

"Well, in the old world, I might've suggested trying out a hearing aid, but now... I'm not so sure."

He grunts. "Them things need batteries, don't they?"

"I think so, but not any standard ones we'd have. You're thinking of finding one, aren't you?"

"I'd turn the whole fuckin' country upside down to get her one, if it's what she needs." He says. "Maybe some old dead guy's wonderin' around with his. Maybe I find one in a doctor's office. Either way, ain't no bill attached to 'em these days and if there's one out there, I'll find it."

She admires the determination in his eyes, lips twitching into a smile. "Rick will help you. I know he will."

"Best I go find officer goody-two-shoes and company, then." He agrees. "Look after my girl for me."

She nods. "That goes without saying."

"I love you, baby." He tells me, which is how I know I done messed up. Takes a lot for him to randomly tell me he loves me, and I guess all that talk last night about giving up was enough. He even places another kiss to my cheek, pinching it after. "I'll see you later."

"I'm sorry, Dad." I mutter.

"I know." He understands I can't help what's happening to me, or how I feel. "I'm gonna get whatchu you need. It's gonna be alright."

I'm not quite sure what I need, but at least the adults seem to know. At least some part of me can be saved.

After he leaves to put my bedding back in our camp, I climb back into my seat and watch the blue truck bumble down the drive and eventually, through the trees. Dale encourages me to finish off my soup in that annoying way my Dad always does, but I only eat a spoonful or two before my stomach shrivels distastefully and he tells me I've tried enough for this morning, so I take to curling up and staring at the fire.

I know if Shane was alive to see what he did to me, he'd be that word Lori likes to say, appalled. He never wanted to hurt me.

A hearing aid. It's one of them things I've never had to think about until now. If I had to go back a couple months and tell seven-year-old Harley, with her long, straight hair and chubby cheeks and bright, green eyes, that I look like a boy, got half an ear, and need a hearing aid, I think she'd hit me upside the head for being a liar. But I know now that you gotta be ready for anythin', like dead people in barns and a last-minute gunshot, and now, I guess, the need for a hearing aid. I have to try squash that feeling of shame. It ain't good for me, but it's always there.

I almost make myself chuckle imagining Carl tryna make being half-deaf badass. He's so relentlessly supportive. They all are.

It's too bad, then, that I still feel this way. This numb and hollowed out, alive but-also-dead way.

The way Carol must feel, and maybe the way Dad felt after Momma died.

"Thank you." Maggie tells Lori and Jacqui in the kitchen, as I stand in front of the fireplace in the next room over. "This is nice of y'all."

I see what Glenn was talkin' about now, about Maggie's great grandfather lookin' like a bald Georgie Washington. He's sitting all proper and important-like inside a photo frame on the mantle, like all people from forever ago do. But there's also newer photos, ones with color, like Maggie and Beth as little girls, posing with horse riding trophies and smiling together at old Thanksgivings and Christmases. I feel happy just looking at them. Baby photos, kind-looking people, school photos. We never knew the Greenes before, but I feel like now I might.

"We just thought you could use some help." Lori replies. "It's been a difficult time for all of us, especially Harley and Beth."

"I appreciate it. Sharin' your supplies, that means a lot these days. You wouldn't mind helpin' me toss it all together will you?"

"Not at all." Jacqui pokes her head around the arch and calls out, "Harley, you wanna come help Maggie finish cooking?"

With a little flinch, I turn to face the three women, remembering why we came here in the first place. We had some tinned vegetables and whatever else left over from breakfast, and Lori thought we'd offer them to Maggie, who's in the middle of cooking a meal for Beth.

"I guess." I hum as I head into the kitchen. It ain't like I got anything better to do. "What're you makin'?"

"Potato soup." Maggie pulls a few bowls from the worn cabinets with a smile. "Well, veggie soup, now."

"Hopefully Beth will feel a little better after a warm breakfast." Lori muses. "It always helped me."

All their words are muffled, as if I'm underwater and they aren't, but I can still just about make out what they're saying.

When Maggie places the bowls on the counter and sees me peering over the ledge, she chuckles. "Let me grab you a stool, huh?"

She grabs a mini wooden step-ladder leaning against the pantry, pulls it open, and sets it down for me. I step onto the lowest rung. She fills a bowl with water from the faucet and slides it in front of me, instructing me to how to rinse off the fat, muddy potatoes and lay them on the dry rag afterwards. It's an easy, mindless task. I get to work while they start slicing up the vegetables and opening the tins. 

As Maggie scrapes carrot into the pot, she jokes, "I been makin' so much soup recently I think I forgot how to make anything else."

"Good thing we've taken a liking, then." Jacqui smiles. "I've never tasted a tater soup good as y'all Greenes'. You know your stuff."

Feels like I'm back at the quarry again, helping prepare our next meal from whatever scraps we had, listening to the women gossip.

"Pssh. I'm tellin' you, as kids, Beth and I loathed the day Wednesday came around and Momma'd make her famous potato soup." She scoffs, grinning at old memories. "She always put too much salt in, said it was good for us. But all it was good for was makin' us barf."

Lori makes a sassy face. "I'm taking it the recipe's been tweaked a little since then."

Maggie smirks. "Wouldn't be eatin' it if it hadn't."

"Must've been nice, growing up with food on the table that's straight from your garden."

"Yeah, it was. Fresh peaches and apples to take to school, home-made bread and the like. We've always lived this way."

"Pretty perfect, if you ask me." Jacqui agrees. "Me and my fiancé were always eatin' take away all the time. God, I miss it sometimes."

"A nice greasy burger sounds so good right now." Lori moans, like she can almost taste it. "Oh, and some curly fries on the side."

They all laugh. It's a little funny. I remember her back in the beginning, braggin' about how her family never ate fast food. Now look at her.

As the conversation drifts to more boring things, I find myself thinking about Beth again. We sure grew up different, but we got broken the same way, at the same time. We clearly been thinking about the same things. She was just brave enough to actually pick up a knife and do something about it. I wonder if she knows now her Momma and step-brother been dead a long time, that they weren't sick at all, and were just bodies needed mourning. The Greenes were a little late to that, but it's like Meemaw used to say, better late than never.

I wonder if Beth regrets what she did. She could be dead right now, in a mound of dirt right next to her Momma.

When I was littler, I used to think Dad could read my mind when I was thinkin' unsavoury things like this, and that he'd give me in trouble right away. I thought that's how it worked with adults and kids, but it ain't. I can think whatever I want and it's safe inside my head.

The potatoes get peeled and diced and thrown into the soup like everything else, and then my new job is to help wash dishes.

When we're down to the last few, Maggie says I should take the bowl of soup up to Beth, 'cause they've got this handled.

"Sure." I agree before hopping down, wondering why my heart's beating so fast all of a sudden.

The door to Beth's bedroom creaks open.

I don't bother waiting for her to give me permission to come in. I just creep in all on my own, because from what I've heard, she hasn't talked all day. Her room is exactly like I would'a guessed. Like something out a trendy teenager's magazine, with a nice white desk covered in perfume bottles and hair clips and crumpled paper and books, blonde pop star posters stuck to the walls, a fluffy, cutesy rug, a teddy bear thrown on the lounge chair sitting by the window. Even the Mp3 player Maggie was telling me about, laying forgotten on the floor.

I carefully set the hot bowl on her nightstand, but something keeps me curious, and I don't turn to leave just yet.

Beth's staring at the wall like they said. Not out the window or anything. Just at the wall. I can't imagine her humming sweetly and letting me borrow one of her shirts, giggling at something I said from the other side of the bathroom door. She looks like a totally different girl.

"I went into shock too, yesterday." I randomly muse. "Or at least that's what Rick said. He's the one with the cowboy hat."

I think I might still be in shock. I'm talking and walking around, but inside, I feel like whatever statue Beth's turned into.

"I ain't sure if anyone's told you about it, but you prolly heard the screamin'. The man my Daddy stabbed, Shane, he took me away. We got pretty far. Sometimes I think about what would'a happened if we got even further, but... he was meant to die. Some people just are."

At that, she breaks her gaze away from that spot on the wall and looks me right in the eye. "Do you think I'm one of those people?"

"I... I ain't smart enough to know." I say honestly, before an awkward pause takes over. "'Cause I was only in grade two, y'know."

Carl seemed to find that funny when I first told him, but Beth just looks uninterested.

"And you?" She hides her bandaged wrists under the covers when she catches me looking. "What're you meant for? Dyin', or somethin' else?"

"I think, um... All I'm meant for is suckin' up hurt." I confess. "Like, there's all this bad in the world, and when there's nobody left for it to go to, it goes to me. Maybe I'm just unlucky. Maybe I done somethin' wrong. That's how life is, my Daddy says. So if that's the 'something else', I think I'd rather just be the type meant for dyin'. That's what my Momma did. She was in pain, and then one day... She wasn't."

"She killed herself," Beth says as fact.

"Yeah." I mutter, feeling the weight of the locket crush down on my chest as I take a seat on the edge of the bed. "She did."

"Was she the sort meant for dyin'?"

"No. She weren't." That much, I'm sure of. "She was just meant to be my Momma."

Beth's pretty eyes gloss over as she says very dully, "Our Mom's dead, too. Right before I thought I was about to die, I imagined what she'd think of me when we'd meet in heaven. She'd be ashamed, I know. Somehow, that was so much worse than the thought of going to Hell."

"Well, maybe your God made sure you didn't die." I guess, hoping it's comforting. "Maybe he wants you to live for everybody else."

A tear beads up on her waterline before sliding down her pale cheek. "I just don't know what to do. I think I'm ashamed, too."

"My Dad says you just gotta be stronger, but I don't know how." I wish I did. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I did."

"It's okay." With a sniff, she sends me a tiny smile. "You know, you're kind. I can just tell."

That makes me smile back. Something about my rugged hair, my mean face, my missing ear must still be soft like it was before.

Author's Note.

Sorry for the longer than usual wait between chapters! I've been dealing with intense writer's block recently so it just took me a while to get this out, but I'm pushing through!

I hope you're ready for a familiar face to return next chapter! ;)

PS. I wanted to thank you all for the touching dms and messages I've received recently, both on here and on ao3. It's still so mind blowing to me that there are so many people out there who hold a special place in their heart for this story just like I do. I'm so grateful for you all :) 💙

[papersparrows]

some days i just feel really tired and want to give up. so much i want to be doing but all my energy is being spent on surviving. and i feel guilty that i'm not always functioning to my fullest potential. i also feel guilty for having all these buried emotions that aren't very positive (suppressed grief, my ongoing mental disorders, deep sadness that's disguised as rage, the list goes on) because i'm now an adult who has to go to work and pay bills and interact with other adults and basically just fucking cosplay as a normal and well-functioning member of society and i play the part so well that i forget i have all these inner conflicts going on inside me. i bury them so well but some days they take over and i always get taken aback at how powerless i really feel. did i really ever heal anything? did i really make any progress? or am i just good at pretending i have everything under control? is this my impostor syndrome kicking in? am i worthy of good things? do the people i love actually like me? am i a good person, actually? will it ever get better? what the fuck am i doing with my life? most days i just want to rot in bed. but obviously, i can't.

[imtheiliad]

There’s nothing specifically wrong I don’t think, I just feel sad more often like the past couple weeks. But I was handling it until today some memories from when I was younger popped into my head, like really happy memories, and I feel almost inconsolable now. I guess just missing certain moments? Trying to find my way through, but it’s like every thought I have leads to the same upset feeling. A reverse maze where every turn you make leads to one place only

oh sweetheart, i have been there and it really sucks <3 my overall short advice/step one is let yourself cry about it. just let it out, sob and talk yourself your feelings, journal if thats your thing, do not let those feelings get repressed and fester cause itll just make it worse and itll get out eventually some other way, and maybe not in an idea way.

what really sucks is that things that pull yourself out of those spirals are the things that you really want to roll your eyes at like drinking enough water and getting outside, or finding a friend to catch up with over coffee and reconnecting with right now, and sometimes doing it will be miserable and horrible and like walking with cement on your feet, but even if all you do is go stand outside for five minutes thats not failing in anyway, you did it and maybe you will do more tomorrow or not, not a big deal! also eating your favorite meal is a good one, i tend to kinda fall into bad eating habits when i am in depression/sad spirals, so something you love and is yummy brings you some joy and feeds you -- idc if its a box of mac and cheese or you order ihop delivery, it feeds you! do things that bring you comfort, be gentle kind and patient. idk where you are, but i know for me rn is the beginning of the tailend of the SAD era of the year, which can be the hardest to pull out from because you have months long shit that has been building up since the beginning of winter, so maybe getting a light therapy lamp might help pull you out.

one thing i have been doing in therapy over the past year is learning how to spend some time and acknowledge those type of reactions, investigate it a little bit, figure out its purpose (its usually protection in its own special way) accept it and thank it. which doesnt mean that it will stop necessarily but the next time it happens i understand it that much better.

also recently i have been loving @/lifeasraven on tiktok, her videos are all about how to structure your day when you just want to rot in bed or if you have just spent lots of time rotting in bed etc -- there are lots of different ones, and while they arent like specifically about being sad etc i have used them that way in the past and her formula really works for me so it might for you.

i dont know if any of this is actually relevant or helpful but i hope it is

[lordoftablecloths]

vent post i guess i dont know i just wanted to write stuff down instead of just go ing to bed and crying over it you can just scroll past it

im fine im sane im noramal im so unbleiveably cringe ,, the only person i have irl- fuck, or even online for that matter- to show the dumbass things i write is my silly little dumbass younger brother who doesn;t understand what im trying to get at and i guess its not his fault, i seriously doubt he's spent unhealthy amounts of time making various short scenerios in his head about charcters he came up with and eventually trying to give them a story and write little things about them in google docs because where else am i supposed to put this and its just ,, he doesnt know wht im trying to do and i dont know how to explain it to him because the "history" i gess behind it is so fucking complicated by now that these characters arent even the same characters as they were when i originally created them, other than some physical attributes and their names and he just knows them as the random cringe shit i made up in middle school but so many years have passed by now that these stupid fuckers whose only purpose to serve is to make me stop remembering that i exist and ive gotten too attatched to them because who else was i supposed to get attatched to when i was going through an identity crisis at the time- and, quite frankly, still fucking am- and it was so much easier to pretend i dont exist and just project my flaws and insecurities and underlying subconcsious thoughts into these charactes that no one knows about except me and oh god im just created a long ass vent post on tumblr that no one's going to read and no one understands the story behind fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck whatever ill go ahead and post this unfinished thing because no one's going to get it either way ill probably delete it later if it doesnt get buried under reblogs

dont think too much about this i just got sad because my brother was giving me a bunch of criticism on an outline of a story i was working on- which is fair, i need to take criticism- but he only knows the characters in it as their semi-formed cringe versions so i chickened out half way and now i feel bad because i was really proud of this thing for the whopping span of like one day before i decided to show it to another human person instead of letting it rot away inside of me like i usually do and now i feel bad about my writing skills

im trying so hard to just take his words with a grain of salt because this kid does not have nearly as much experience with writing as i do, but i feel like im copying too many of my inspirations (DnD, generic fantasy story about defeating evil creature, silly tropes, etc,,) which sucks because that was just like the first two pages of the outline and theres nine fucking pages and like the second half of it was what i put the most effort into and i felt like the ideas were really origianl but i could make myself let him naturally get to that part of the outline because i was starting to feel really bad and wieerd and oh god he is looking at ideas i havent ever expressed to another human person even though i am very familaiar with because i came up with them and they havebeen in my head for at least a year or two by now and have been haunting me ever since so instead of skipping ahead to the parts that were really good in my opinion but would have made no sense without context i just told him to piss off i gues s

i dont know. i feel dumb. i feel stupid. ive put so much effort into this stuff and the concept that ive been wasting my time feels like too heavy of a weight to handle. god none of this porbobably nmakes any sense ,,,,,,,,, i guess this is why i feel miserable when the fanart and shitpost memes i post get a comically larger audience and attention than the art relating to my silly goofy ocs, because these stupid fucking characters are all thats keeping me going . call me cringe, but is it still cringe if the concept that maybe i too can be around people that love me and instead of having to like me in spite of my faults love me for them keeps me from fucking killing myself is it still cringe?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around, does its fall even make a sound? (shit piss fuck sorry i dont remember the original quote and all i can remember is tha t one line from that one musical i dont remember what it was)

if an autistic moron that cant even talk to a cashier without having a panic attack makes a universe full of fictional characters of his own cfreation then an alternate universe, then several alternate universes, then a spin off from that original universe and etc etc but its all just on google fucking docs and no where else except deleted excerpts from a dead wattpad account, did he ever even create anything at all?

its pointless. its all so fucking pointless. its a waste of time. why do i do this at all. its so fucking pointless. it makes no fucking sense. you cant just make a story with characters in it, then make a fucking fantasy au of that universe with the same characters but with different designs and wildly different personalities and then make a whole fucking complicated lore-filled story about the fantasy au version while the original universe's story is still left mostly unfinished like forget about a first draft of the text i havent even finished the first ddraft of the outline yet buckarooooooo

okay fuck you guys thats all i want to tell you im going to go pretend to myself to try to go to sleep and then cry now

[wildelydawn]

I'm waiting for your bittersweet chocolate 90% . Will you update it? Or are you leaving it? Please answer this.🥺

Hello there! Thank you for checking in about Bittersweet Chocolate, 90%. I am not leaving it, but I am not sure when I will update it.

I don't talk about myself a lot on this blog, and I know you're not really asking about me, and perhaps the following will be way too much information and will make you and other feels really uncomfortable, but since a few people have asked about BSC90, I just want to clarify a few things.

tl;dr: I'm sad. I'll start writing and updating again soon.

I have very severe depression. And I do mean severe: the kind that where I don't get out of bed for anything, the kind that leaves my hair uncombed and unwashed for days, the kind that destroys any creative ray of sunshine in my life, the kind that worries people IRL. I zone out for hours. I have no concept of time when I do zone out. I get up out of bed when I have to, physically go to work, and immediately come back to bed when I am home. I open up my phone, muster the strength to reply to a few people, then go to Google Docs, and stare at an empty document until my phone locks. I fall asleep and repeat that cycle over and over and over again. I don't leave my apartment for anything besides work; last week was the first time I left my house in months and that was by sheer force (bless my partner for that) and I have no plans on leaving my apartment again because I simply have no will to do so. If it wasn't for my cat, I would absolutely never leave my bed. If I could, I would, and want to, just rot away in bed, and talk to no one. And I am sure many people who talk to me on here, Discord, etc. have noticed that I am taking longer and longer to reply. (In fact, I am neglecting to respond to The Woman right now, and she is someone I prioritize, always.) I could go on and on about how heavy this illness and its roots dig into me and weigh me down, and usually, I have a handle on it, and for the most part, I did! This last year These last six months have been really terrible in terms of IRL stuff, but writing, whether it's creative, or journaling, or academic, has always helped. It's always been my escape.

So you can imagine why I felt incredibly lucky to come across KinnPorsche: the Series because it does spark a lot of creativity in me. I can't believe I've written 200K words for a single fandom, let alone 150k+ words on KimChay. I spent May through November using KP and other media and writing fics to navigate my depression. I spent the last few weeks developing what I would call close friendships with people when earlier this year, I had no one to talk to. Hell, I have all the inspiration at my finger tips. I literally have projects in development with really amazing artists on here. People send me prompts and ideas and I watch my list grow and I think of how lucky I must be to be inspired. I made friends with people on Twitter. Twitter! And it's winter time, my favorite season, and I'm looking forward to the snow, the walks in cold air, my trench coats and sweater vests. And I've been updating YLTTL (which is a finished fic, but still need heavy editing.) According to the math, I should be good; I should be in a place where I can write BSC90 and update. And I should be happy.

But I am not. Right now, I am in a really bad place, and if I have the will to write, it comes in flashes that dim out rather quickly. I am frustrated. I am exercising immense self control when the urge to delete everything I've ever written and run away overtakes my head. I write things, and I delete them because nothing feels good anymore. Nothing I write feels good enough to post either. And I've never written for anyone: as in, I write for me and my health, even though BSC90 is literally for someone. But it really sucks when your own brain is telling you, "Hey! Everyone's lying to you! You're not really a good writer, and if you were, you would push past all these terrible feelings and write like you always do." And I do that often, but that methodology is not working right now because of the severity of my feelings.

Now, I am not saying that this is anyone's fault or that you or anyone who asks about my fics is a bad person or anything. I promise you that's not where I am coming from. I promise you that I appreciate every reader I have, including you. I promise you my intention with this response isn't to make you or anyone feel bad or to solicit pity or sympathy. But I do need to say something because:

1) I think people deserve honesty, no matter what.

2) I've given the "Haha I've just been really busy!" excuse over the last month and that hasn't been enough and

3) I'm beginning to feel like I'm letting people down, which I know really isn't the case, but my flickering brain is trying to convince me that I am, and my chest tells me the same thing.

I promise when I come back, Chapter 6 of BSC90 will be, I hope, worth the wait. And that despite everything I've written here, I do appreciate you asking about the story and I appreciate your patience. So please don't feel bad or some type of way if you (or anyone else) is reading this. I just want to be honest.

Thank you for reading. 🖤

[waitinguntilnovember]

a non-romanticized day in the life of a jobless artist/writer high school student

12pm: around this time, I was able to wake up. I have very bad insomnia, which does not mix well with going to school at 8am, but thankfully yesterday was a Saturday, so I could sleep in.

12:30-1pm: I made myself a coffee with almond milk and plant-based creamer and no breakfast because I find it very hard to eat when I wake up. Because all of my mugs ran out (thanks, mom, for stealing my favorite one) I had to use a short glass cup. I have an easily sick stomach and I'm lactose intolerant but honestly, I still have cookies and milk at 3am when I'm writing. Screw my nausea.

1-7pm: I spend my daylight rotting in bed, doing god knows what. One minute I'm watching a nice cozy art vlog looking for inspiration and the next I'm upstairs making cereal as my only meal of the day and then going back into my cave. There will be short 5-minute intervals between where I'll take snacks or socialize with my family, but I always make it back to my room, stuck to my laptop. I might sneak in a quick one-line poem I thought of and frantically look for a pencil to write it in my notebook. I might think of a random idea for a book or painting. These hours are spent doing absolutely nothing but simultaneously everything at the same time.

7-11pm: painting is my #1 healthy outlet besides writing. I try to paint almost every free day I have to calm myself down when things get rough mentally. Yesterday, I painted a branch with flowers on a small canvas. It wasn't much, but I like it anyway. With insomnia, it's like everything is obscured or blurry, so having these things to keep me on track is very nice.

11pm-around 5:30ish am: at later hours, I write. I spent as much time as I possibly could writing. I find my mind is much more active, or creative, in this time period. Most of the time when I say I'm going to write, I end up editing and revising previous paragraphs. It's a habit I need to work on. What I'm working on right now is a short novel that is told through therapy sessions, where the main character is spiraling slowly with each chapter and has a very warped view of life. A lot of the experiences the main character has come from my own. I'm figuring out a few rough details but I have the plot completed as well as the precise timeline and writing technique I'm going for. If I do end up publishing this, I don't want to put spoilers on Tumblr, so don't expect much out of me relating to this subject.

About 6am: I finally start to feel tired after staring at my ceiling for about 20 or 30 minutes. It takes a bit longer to actually fall asleep after this.

Today, at around 12pm again: I woke up and did the same 12-1pm routine. After, I spent about 30 minutes rereading and only slightly editing my writing from the night before.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Everybody goes through hard points in their life where romanticizing can't make it better. Right now, I'm struggling a lot with my personal health and it's affecting my life and making my mental health so much worse. The passing of midterms this last week has been a great help with my gentle recovery this weekend, as I've finally been able to rest, but I still find even in my relaxed, comfortable state I manage to be stressed out.

And that's able to be dealt with.

I know that most people crumbled under their own pressure like I am with mine, and they made it out. I believe once the season changes and the school depression passes along, I can have my healthier version of this lifestyle back. I will be able to eat meals during the day and go out with my friends without coming home drained. But, unfortunately, all of this takes time.

Do not expect your change to come the moment you set your mind to it.

It's a gradual change. In your sleeping schedule, your moods, your eating habits, everything-- it can't be achieved in one day. If you want to see results, you will have to work and wait for them.

I know there will be moments when it gets even harder, and you feel like you almost need to be sad to feel something, but please trust me when I say that is not the answer. You can experience something other than that zombie-like blankness you feel every day.

Please realize it takes time to feel it, though. And do not give that up if you think it won't work.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Remember that my inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to. I'm a stranger over the internet, I'm faceless, I will tell nobody, not a soul. I promise you that you will always have someone to talk to after seeing this post. Do not think otherwise ever again.

[potatoesandsunshine]

16 & 17 for the fanfic writer ask game, please.

16. where is your favorite place to write?: when i was in college it was my habit to go to the panera bread a few times a week to study/get as many iced tea refills as i could stand/hog a booth for a while. i really enjoy writing somewhere that isn’t home - since covid & everything that’s kind of fallen by the wayside, i’m still not comfortable doing it. so there’s probably a coffee shop somewhere out there that would feel perfect, but i’m not looking for it right now.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?: hooooooooo this is a toughie. this is hard. i’m a big rereader of my own stories - i couldn’t even tell you what my favorite published fic is, it changes any given day. and i'm greedy. here's five of my current favorites.

“Vaudeville trash, Mother says for the dozenth time, and Meg is exhausted coming off the fourth show, wishes she were sharing a cigarette with Diedre backstage before the fifth; it’s nearly enough for her to let the smile drop and say, Of course it is, we have a vaudeville act.” from The Most Self-Indulgent Fic Ever Written, looking lovely (burning bright) which was written in honor of my thirteen year old self who spent months obsessed with love never dies, a musical that 1) isn’t good and 2) hates women. what if the women in that kissed.

“And it is draped in green: her color, poison and rot and sick smoke, the lovely gleam of her scales in the dark.” from you are coming down with me, where raishan is one part cat playing with a wounded bird and one part possessive deity laying claim to an acolyte and a third, other part that’s just labeled ‘kinda horny about it all.’

“It’s a kind of luxury, Cass knows, that they can each eat two bowls of soup and have enough left for the morning meal. And the mattress is surprisingly soft, enough so that both she and the Courier roll to the dip in the middle of the bed.” from one more song about moving along the highway, which i wrote in a fit of spring sadness and love more and more as time goes on.

"Pike doesn’t love him the way he loves her. It’s impossible—because Pike is sure and real and true, and Scanlan is flashpaper and illusion. He thinks sometimes about the drive out of Westruun, watching her disappear in the rearview mirror. Three exits down the highway he pulled to the side of the road and sobbed until his throat was raw. And he didn’t call, because he knew it would hurt." from my current favorite wip which is just called WakingUpInVegas.mp3 right now. what if they woke up married. why not. modern au pikelan is built for angst

“You know I love you. It would take worse than this to make me stop—a fact which shames me to my very core. I, who cling so tightly to oaths and promises, abandon them at the first scrap of affection returned. I cannot call it anything but disgusting. How fickle I am, to turn my back on all of it for you.” which was part of an in-character letter from my old paladin to her knight boyfriend. Beatrice Pyre you will always be my girl.