#it’s not going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be

[eddiegettingshot]

thinking about what eddie knows he’s probably signing up for makes me feel sick 😀👍🏽 theoretically he’s gonna buy a nice spacious completely empty house and he’ll absolutely leave it barren, completely sterile. he’ll be an easy hire at some fire station where he’ll have a captain who doesn’t get it and a partner who isn’t familiar and everyone will think that guy’s a great firefighter and he’s so friendly and nice but does anyone know anything about him? and after work he will return to his empty white walls and sleep in his plain sheets and he will facetime buck who is two hours behind him and miserable and they will miss each other. his parents won’t be any better in person so he’ll get to experience that alienation in real time: his dad will forget to tell him when to show up, his mom will tell him he doesn’t need to bother anyway, and he can’t be sure whether it’ll make a difference to chris either way. and he will want to go back to the home he chose. so badly. every day. but he cannot. and he doesn’t worry about the things he can’t control. so 😀😀👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽

[signanothername]

Kay some asks tend to glitch and this was one of them, so had to screenshot cause i can’t answer it directly

Now to the point ycchch

See, forgiveness is earned, not given, and even when it’s earned, it doesn’t mean that those Nightmare hurt have to forgive him even if he truly changes for the better, even when he tries to make it up to them

To ask whether he deserves forgiveness is a question best asked to his victims, whether residents of AUs he attacked, Dream or MTT, which each would have a different opinion depending on their experiences, personalities, and overall situation

That’s why i think a better question would be, does he deserve a chance to change? And I’ll always answer this with yes

Everyone deserves the chance to change for the better, including Nightmare, it still does not mean that his victims have to, or would forgive him, or that Nightmare even remotely deserves to retain a good relationship with one of those he abused

I know for a fact none of the MTT will forgive him for the hell they experienced, for the abuse he put them through, they were already living bad lives and all Nightmare did was make them live even worse lives, they are hurt, angry, and bitter, and they deserve to feel their feelings, they deserve to look at Nightmare head on and tell him to fuck off, tell him that they will never ever forgive him

Dream always forgives him, but the hurt always stays, it’ll never simply disappear just cause Dream forgives him for his actions, Dream’s forgiveness doesn’t just come from a place of kindness, but rather a biased view considering the fact they’re twins

Regardless, each victim would have their own views of whether Nightmare deserves forgiveness

I think Nightmare should be given a chance to change for the better, I also think there’s a limit to how many chances you give someone before it’s apparent they are never gonna put in the effort to change, and I also think that whether someone deserves forgiveness is up to each victim and their views, however, forgiveness still shouldn’t determine whether someone chooses to change for the better or not

Not everyone is going to forgive Nightmare, and that shouldn’t determine Nightmare’s decision to whether he should change or not, cause for Nightmare to truly change for the better, he needs to make amends for his horrible actions best he can, all while knowing that it still wouldn’t grant him forgiveness

If one of those he abused sees that the best course of action Nightmare can take to make it up to them is to never show his face in front of them ever again, then Nightmare should respect that

Cause it’s not about him, making amends isn’t about his own peace of mind, but rather making it up for those he abused on their own terms

That being said, chasing forgiveness isn’t an attainable goal, Nightmare has to find his own path in life afterwards, in which he never repeats his abusive/toxic actions to others ever again, it’s what would also truly show if he’s actually changing or not, of course, old bad habits die hard, and change isn’t an easy straight path, but as long as Nightmare truly shows a genuine commitment to changing for the better then that should also matter in his own story

[takamor]

“what are you doing here?”

in all honesty, he should’ve expected the brittle ring to your voice.

he really should’ve expected how you fold your arms around your chest as if protecting your heart from him. (he’s been so rough with it in the past, after all.)

and especially how you squint your eyes at him like you can’t believe he’s really standing in your doorway at one in the morning, rain pounding against his back and a lopsided grin on his face. (he doesn’t blame you—never has. he can’t even believe where he’s at, but he’s not exactly surprised. you’ve always felt like home to him.)

it’s not a surprise how you stand squarely between him and your entryway, but there’s a part of him that breaks anyway. (he isn’t welcome here, he knows it, but it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night and he just wants to go home.)

“c’mon, darlin’, you know why i’m here.” he tries his hardest to sound lighthearted, but there’s a wobble to his tone, and he hopes he didn’t imagine you softening just the slightest bit.

but just as quickly as he sees a flash of tenderness across your face, you’re back to glowering at him the best you can and standing your ground. “no, i don’t, atsumu, considering you broke up with me two weeks ago.”

“is it cheesy of me to say i’ve regretted it every day since?”

“incredibly, but also incredibly like you.”

“even if it’s true?”

“especially if it’s true.”

it’s easy to fall into familiar banter with him, a reflex almost. atsumu has always been easy to bicker with. there’s something bittersweet about how sharp both of your tongues are and how thick your skin is. it was the foundation of your relationship. evidently, a weak one. and whether it’s the alcohol pumping through his veins or the feeling of belonging taking root in his guts, he doesn’t realize he’s reached out his hand towards you until he feels his knuckles brush against your cheek. you indulge it just for a moment, long enough to remember how good it felt to wake up to him every morning, before grabbing his wrist.

“what are you doing here, atsumu?” you repeat, firmer this time, his pulse thumping against your palm.

he feels guilty, but not enough to leave. just enough to look slightly sheepish and gently wriggle his wrist out of your grasp so he can scratch the back of his head. a nervous habit of his, and you can appreciate that he has the sense to be somewhat ashamed. “jus’ wanted to see ya’ is all…”

you hold your chin up and he shrinks away from your glare. “then you should’ve thought twice about breaking up with me, huh?”

“look—” he tries to get out the rest of his sentence, he really does, but it’s freezing cold and the rain is starting to sting his skin and his tongue feels a lot heavier than it should and his vision is starting to blur and, by god, he thinks he might actually be crying. how much more of a fucking cliché can he be? pathetically standing on his ex’s porch in the pouring rain, sake and regret causing his body to feel stuffed full of cotton and stones, hands shaking from nerves and cold air. atsumu miya is truly the epitome of pride and self-destruction at its finest. “i…” he runs his hand down his face in hopes that it’ll sober him up a little, and his previous suspicions are confirmed when he can feel the telltale warmth of tears. “i was an idiot and bein’ selfish and i shouldn’t a’ said what i said—”

“you called me insecure when i told you i wanted to spend more time with you.”

“i know and i’m sorry and if you—”

“you said if i wanted to date an all star athlete then i shouldn’t try to drag them down.”

“i know and—”

“you called me childish. you. of all fucking people, atsumu.”

he isn’t sure when you guys started yelling or when your words started to feel more like fists, but his hands are shaking and he thinks his heart is breaking. it feels like it is. his stomach is churning and he’s certain it isn’t from the alcohol; his lungs ache with every breath he takes; his throat is raw and closing more with each minute that passes by; his mind is racing trying to keep up with his mouth, but it can’t seem to catch up. someone must’ve hit his power button, because he feels as if he’s shut down. he’s frozen. unsure whether you’re going to keep fighting him or just slam the door on him. he hopes it’s the former, so he has more time to memorize the curves of your face.

“what gives you the right, atsumu miya?” you continue on, indignation staining your words. “what gives you the fucking right to break up with me after i told you i was worried about you caring more about volleyball than me, and then show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night drunk off of your ass? i tried calling you, texting you, and you never fucking answered. you even blocked me on your socials before the night ended. even osamu, your fucking twin brother, reached out to me because he knew how much you meant to me. and right when i’m starting to warm up to the idea of moving on, you show up. you fucking show up...”

he reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you flinch away this time, scared of crumbling under his touch. the ice in your chest has melted enough to reveal the clumsy stitching you’ve done to seal angry cuts he left. you don’t want to show the ugly deeper ones you’re still trying to figure out how to bandage. the wounded look in his deep eyes has you longing to feel warm again.

“please,” he whispers. “jus’ let me inside and you can yell at me. you can even kick me out after, i promise. but my feet are numb and i dunno how much longer i can stand out here without catchin’ a cold. and i think your neighbors are startin’ to hate ya’.”

it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night, and a drunk atsumu miya is standing on your doorstep, and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. something cautiously optimistic twinkles in his eyes as you scoot over to let him in your apartment, and he folds in on himself as he squeezes past you, and it’s so unlike him, a seedling of hope starts to bloom in your rib cage. atsumu has never tried to make himself appear smaller for anyone’s sake, but he’s trying his best to shrink his body for you. with the deliberation of someone handling glass, he slips feet out of his shoes and makes his way over to your couch, droplets of rain rolling off of his clothes and landing soundlessly on your carpet. anxiety radiates off of him in heavy waves. he fiddles with the strings of his jacket, dark eyes watching your every movement, the corners of his mouth twitching, muscular legs bouncing with anticipation as if he’s ready to bolt at any given moment.

it’s the most nervous you’ve ever seen him, and a part of you feels righteous.

“what are you doing here, miya?” it’s the third time you’ve asked him the question and the softest way you’ve done it. and though he cracks at the formality of his last name, he can appreciate how delicate you sound while whispering it.

finally, somehow, he finds his voice buried under the lump in his throat. “i’m an idiot. i ruined the best thing to ever happen to me because i got scared, and i wanna make it right.” he bites his lip. copper explodes on his tongue and it shouldn’t taste so good mixed with sake, but he finds himself indulging nonetheless. when you don’t speak, he continues on in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “‘m sorry. i dunno how much my words are worth to you now, and i don’t blame you if you hate me. i kinda hate me right now…” He humorlessly chuckles and glares at the floor as if it were the source of all of this. “but i miss you. none of this shit means anythin’ to me if i don’t have you, darlin’.”

“don’t say that.”

his eyes snap up back to you and he’s somewhat relieved to see you earnest. “hm?”

“don’t say that volleyball doesn’t mean anything to you,” you mutter, and it’s your turn to glare at the carpet. “i won’t allow you to. with or without me, volleyball is your…thing. it’s what you wake up in the morning for. it’s what you go to bed thinking of. it’s what your mind wanders to. and, yeah, it’s annoying sometimes, but that’s a part of you. don’t let me take that away from you.”

atsumu rubs at his face and inspects his hands, all of the calluses and evidence of his days on the court. a part of him still wants to cut out volleyball, hurt himself as much as he’s hurt you, because he knows you’re right—him without volleyball is like him without food to eat, water to drink, oxygen to inhale. it’s been the one constant in his life, the thing that has brought him back from the ledge again and again. he thought it’d be the only thing he’d care about, until he met you. could one take priority over another? would you make him choose? or was he just scared of you doing it and cut his losses before he could find out? in the end, you both know what he’d choose, and maybe he was trying to save you from that. he never thought of himself as so chivalrous. then again, he didn’t think much of himself outside of volleyball. but he’s been through this story so many fucking times he knows the ending: you’ll grow to resent him because volleyball takes up more of his heart than you do and he’ll end up with another hole in it. it already started when you mentioned you hadn’t seen him much these past few weeks during practice season. and although at the time you brought it up off-handedly, he knows the topic won’t be so easy the fifth time it’s brought up.

and so, he did what he does best: made the kill shot and ended things before they got too hard.

but there’s that annoyingly idyllic part of him that’s hoping, praying, this ending is different and maybe his love for volleyball is a part of the reason you love him so much. seeing him so passionate, pushing himself on the court, looking in your direction after every shot he takes, silently dedicating every serve he makes to you. maybe you see all of that and adore him for it. he hopes you do.

“how drunk are you?” you ask suddenly.

he perks at the sound of your voice. “drunk enough to say what’s on my mind. sober enough to know how stupid i am for tryin’ to pull this off.”

you chuckle despite yourself, and that blossom of hope in his ribcage grows a little more. “well, we’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? i’m tired and not thinking clearly, and you obviously aren’t either. here—” careful to avoid his touch, you grab at the blanket strew over the head of the couch. he still gets a noseful of your shampoo, however, and that’s enough to make his chest ache and his arms long to hold you. “crash on the couch, ‘kay? you know where the bathroom is if you need to vomit.”

“i can hold my liquor,” he begrudgingly mutters as he wrestles to take his jacket off and cocoon himself with the blanket. it smells like you as well, and he can almost pretend it’s you wrapped around his body instead of the woven acrylic. he shivers, despite the warmth provided by the blanket.

you look down at him fondly. it doesn’t help his ribcage one bit. “i know.”

once he’s settled in, you bid him goodnight and begin to tread towards your room, feet heavy and heart feeling even heavier.

“does that mean there’s hope?” he sounds so small, his words rose-colored and dripping with caged optimism, that you can’t help but soften some of your hard edges for him. you glance over your shoulder and are surprised by the shining dark eyes peeking back over to you.

“what?” you dumbly reply, too emotionally drained to contemplate much more.

“you said we’ll talk about this in the mornin’,” he slowly explains, as if his words weigh more than he expected. “does that mean there’s hope?”

“i—” you bite your tongue. atsumu is looking at you as if you have his heart in the palm of your hand, and you have a slight suspension he’s right. hesitantly, as to not break him any more than he already has, you meet his eyes, and there’s that fragile hope staring right back at you. “i don’t know, ‘tsumu. but i’m willing to hear you out.”

he smiles, because you’ve finally used the name he fell in love with hearing roll off your tongue. even if there’s no way to fix what he’s broken, he can at least know that there’s a part of you that’s still fond of him, even if it’s buried under the bitter animosity of heartbreak. that, he thinks, will be good enough for now.

[midnightshard06]

Sonic

“Hmmm a tough one…” Sonic hummed. “I guess the thing I want most is for Shadow to be able to move on. Don’t get me wrong, he's made a lot of progress!” He cleared his throat. “But he’s still got a long way to go. I can tell his past still weighs heavily on him. Especially since a lot of it was brought back up with the recent invasion. It’ll be hard to get there, but I’ll be with him every step of the way.”

Shadow

“One thing I want most?” Shadow crossed his arms. “Perhaps just some peace. My life has been rather chaotic. I don’t think that will happen anytime soon though. Still have a lot to do…” He sighed. “I take whatever moments of peace I can get in the meantime.”

Silver

“I think this is an easy one for me.” Silver rubbed the back of his head. “I want to figure out what caused the destruction of my time and prevent it. I’m… not sure if it’ll happen but I’ll keep trying!” He paused, looking off into the distance with a frown. “I know that if I do succeed things will change so I won’t have met my parents but… I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the world. That’s something I’ve talked with Mephiles a lot about actually.” He perked back up. “Plus I know I won’t be totally alone if it happens. Mephiles said that he should remember this current timeline if things change!” He let his expression fall into something more neutral. “In the meantime I’ll do what I can for the people here. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Mephiles

“A question I’ve pondered since arriving in this timeline.” Mephiles crossed his arms. “With myself unable to reform Solaris here I found myself rather listless and without a goal for a time. After assisting Silver for as long as I have now though I’m starting to believe I truly want the same thing he does. To fix whatever caused the state of this time. Part of me still wishes for vengeance but I have no means to carry it out on anyone who actually deserves it. Those that wronged me are well out of reach in my original timeline.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I find myself content to exist here when the other option is potential oblivion should I try to find a way back.” An odd look passed over his face. “Besides there are many puzzles to figure out here. How you strange beings keep sending us questions being one of them…”

To the main characters in each au, what is one of the things you want most?

all i want for christmas is youuu /lyr

[daisymbin]

vernon angst 46 please! any ending is fine 🫶

will do!!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

angst prompt #46: "we can't keep doing this."

it’s late, too late, but you’re here again. the soft knock on the door was all it took for hansol to let you in, like he always does. his heart is a traitor; it betrays him every time, even when his mind knows better.

you’re standing in his living room now, avoiding his gaze, and he doesn’t know if he’s relieved or angry about it. the air is heavy, thick with unspoken words, the kind that choke him when he tries to sleep.

“you didn’t have to come,” he says, voice quiet but strained, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. he doesn’t mean it, not really, but it’s the kind of thing he thinks he should say.

“i wanted to,” you reply, just as softly, but you’re looking at your hands, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your jacket. you’re always like this—distant but close enough to ruin him.

he takes a deep breath, the weight of everything between you pressing on his chest. “we can’t keep doing this,” he says suddenly, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. his voice cracks, just slightly, and it feels like he’s tearing himself apart.

your head snaps up, eyes wide, like you didn’t see this coming. maybe you didn’t, or maybe you just didn’t want to. “what are you talking about?”

he laughs, bitter and short, like the kind of laugh you give when there’s nothing left to say but too much to feel. “you know what i’m talking about. this. us. whatever this is.”

you flinch, and it hurts him more than it should. but he presses on, because if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “you show up when it’s convenient, when you’re sad, when you’re lonely, but then what? you leave. every time.” his voice rises, not loud but enough to echo in the silence.

“it’s not like that,” you protest, but it’s weak, and you both know it.

“then what is it?” he snaps, the frustration finally boiling over. “what are we? because i can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

your lips part, like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. your silence is louder than any excuse, any half-hearted apology you could give.

“do you even care?” he asks, quieter now, the fight draining out of him. “or am i just... someone you run to because it’s easy?”

“hansol, that’s not fair,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, and it’s all the answer he needs.

he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “no, what’s not fair is the way you look at me like i mean something, only to disappear the second i think i can believe it.”

you take a step closer, and he backs away instinctively, the space between you feeling both too much and not enough. “i didn’t mean to—”

“but you did,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he wants it to be. “you always do.”

the tears in your eyes are the final blow, because he knows he’s hurting you, and he hates it. but he also hates the way you’ve been hurting him, over and over, with every fleeting moment you give him only to take it all away.

“maybe you don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, softer now, almost like he’s talking to himself. “but i do. i know what it feels like to hope, to think maybe this time it’ll be different, only to be wrong again.”

you’re crying now, silent tears streaming down your face, and he looks away because if he doesn’t, he’ll break.

“i can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep letting you in, knowing you’ll leave. it’s killing me.”

“hansol, please,” you choke out, but there’s nothing left to say.

he looks at you one last time, taking in the way you’re falling apart in front of him. it’s ironic, he thinks, how the person breaking him is the same one he wants to hold together.

“go,” he says, barely audible, but the weight in his voice makes it feel final. “just... go.”

you hesitate, like you want to fight, but then you turn and walk toward the door. the soft click of it closing behind you feels like the end of everything, and maybe it is.

hansol sinks onto the couch, head in his hands, as the silence wraps around him like a suffocating blanket. he knows he did the right thing, but it doesn’t feel like it.

it feels like losing, like ripping out a piece of himself and leaving it in your hands, knowing you’ll never give it back.

and as the minutes stretch into hours, he sits there, drowning in the quiet, wondering if you’ll ever come back—and knowing, deep down, that he hopes you don’t.

[freewayshark]

I know the Buck of today is a far cry from season 1 Buck but I did just think about him channeling that version of himself and physically squaring up with Gerrard the way he did Athena in the pilot and. I need that to happen now

[twistedappletree]

Thinking about Lan Sizhui teaching Jin Ling how to play guqin.

Thinking about Jin Ling absolutely bored to tears by the fundamentals until he hears how beautifully Lan Sizhui plays and suddenly takes an interest (in the guqin, definitely the guqin, he’s interested in the guqin only, okay??)

Thinking about Jin Ling practicing outside of classes because he wants to impress Lan Sizhui by how much he’s improved and wants to make him proud and wants to see his face light up with a smile—I mean, what? No no no, he just wants to show initiative to learn, that’s all there is to it, nothing more. Nothing at all.

Thinking about Lan Sizhui finding Jin Ling asleep on his guqin after a night of wearing himself out with extra practice and gently waking him up to safely escort him back to his room so he doesn’t get caught by their seniors. Meanwhile, Jin Ling sleepily leans against him on the walk back to his room because it’s normal, he’s just tired, it’s obviously normal because Lan Sizhui slips his hand into his and smiles and Jin Ling’s heart feels like it’s on fire. Oh no.

Thinking about Jin Ling opening up to Lan Sizhui about his nightmares from all the trauma he’s endured and Lan Sizhui staying to play guqin for him until he falls asleep, each note chasing away every bad dream that tries to disturb him.

Thinking about them practicing guqin alone together the next day. And the day after. And the day after that—and they really are practicing but it’s a little hard to focus when Lan Sizhui keeps putting his hands over Jin Ling’s to move them to the correct strings, and Jin Ling’s face is a breath away from Lan Sizhui’s every time he leans over to help him.

It’s just guqin practice, that’s all there is to it, perfectly normal. 🩵💛

[isaiahking]

Isaiah smiled softly at Violet’s playful teasing. He knew her better than most, and it wasn’t lost on him how much she carried with her—the weight of loss, the need to keep moving, the way she masked her vulnerability with humor. She was tough, but beneath that tough exterior, he knew there was a tenderness that only those closest to her ever got to see. "Don't think I haven't noticed how much you hold it together, Violet," Isaiah said with a hint of admiration in his voice. He raised an eyebrow when she asked about him and Leo, knowing exactly where this was going. "Oh, we’ve done it in every room, alright," he teased back, his tone light, matching her playfulness. "But you already know that. Leo and I are... resourceful," he added, his grin widening. As she shifted the conversation to more serious matters, Isaiah’s expression softened. He was used to seeing her juggle everything in her life, the mix of grief and love, the way she poured her heart into everyone around her. It had always struck him how deeply she loved, and how much she cared about making sure others felt supported—even when she was struggling herself. “I’m glad you’re going to talk to Reign,” he said with a small nod. “It’s not easy, but it’ll make things clearer. You deserve to be able to just be—without all the secrets, or feeling like you have to hide. You know he’ll understand." He paused, eyes meeting hers with that same quiet understanding he always gave her. Isaiah’s gaze lingered on her as she asked about Leo, and his smile faded just a little, replaced with something more earnest. He’d been through hell, but Isaiah had always believed in Leo’s strength. "He’s doing better. Slowly, but better. There’s a lot to rebuild, you know? But with the talk of our future , and with me by his side, we’ll get there." He paused, then added, “You’re right, Violet. He’s lucky to have me. And I’m damn lucky to have him.” When she shifted the topic back to making soup, Isaiah’s mood lightened again. Cooking was one of those small joys he shared with her, a way to reset after the heavy conversations. He grabbed the apron she handed him and slid it over his head with a grin. “Healthy and fun, huh? Alright, I’m on it,” he said, already reaching for the knife to start dicing the chicken. “Let’s make it a soup even Ayiden would approve of.” As he chopped, Isaiah stole a glance at her, feeling grateful for their easy companionship. As they worked in comfortable silence, the rhythm of chopping and stirring filling the space, Isaiah glanced up with a thoughtful look. "You ever think about how much life has changed, Violet?" he asked, his tone quieter now, more reflective. "We’re not who we were a few years ago, are we?"

violet felt like she lost a piece of herself when ayiden, her brother, died. he was the one who truly understood her, the glue that held their family together. now, everything felt scattered. she only saw her parents a few times a year—they were okay, but things would never be the same. they hadn’t been thrilled when she named her son after ayiden, but when he was born, she couldn’t help herself. it felt right, like her brother had sent him as a gift when she was at her lowest. she’d promised herself she’d be there for her son in a way she hadn’t been able to for her brother, even though his death wasn’t her fault. “i won’t make out in the kitchen, at least not while we’re cooking, i can promise you that,” she said with a smirk, shaking her head. what was the point of pretending it wouldn’t happen when she knew it probably would? she wasn’t going to say no to reign. “but don’t act all innocent—are you really going to tell me that you and leo, the most hyper couple i know, haven’t done it in every single room in your place?” she raised an eyebrow at isaiah. “admit it—you have,” she teased, her grin playful. she leaned against the counter, looking at her best friend. he was right, as usual. maybe she should talk to reign about telling the kids. maybe it would make everything feel more natural and less like sneaking around. “you’re so wise, isaiah king,” she said with a small smile. “i’ll talk to reign, and then we’ll tell them. you’re right. it’s time.” she felt a little lighter having shared that with him—he always had a way of making her feel less lost. “yeah, i definitely don’t want ayiden catching us sneaking around. i don’t want to scar him for life,” she laughed, shaking her head. “and don’t get all emotional on me right now, or i’ll cry,” she warned him with a playful look. she was so ready to see isaiah and leo’s kids. ready to be the aunt who spoiled them, loved them fiercely, and made sure they always felt supported. she’d give their kids the same unconditional love they gave her ayiden, and the thought of that warmed her heart. “i’m glad leo’s back. is he really better?” she asked softly, her voice full of genuine care. she adored leo—he’d been through so much, and all she wanted was for good things to come his way. he was lucky to have isaiah, just as isaiah was lucky to have him. “amazing,” she said with a bright smile. “ayiden said he wanted soup, so let’s make soup and…” she paused, glancing around the kitchen. slipping on an apron, she handed one to isaiah. “maybe chicken or something? the soup’s easier, so you want to dice some chicken?” she asked, heading to the fridge to grab the meat. “we’re going for healthy but fun.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

GUYS i have to give a six minute demonstration speech for my oral/interpersonal communications class later AND. AND like two weeks ago when we were planning it i didn’t know what to do it on so my teacher said something art related since she knows i like to draw. so i chose to. to give a speech in front of like 20 other people in my grade on HOW TO DRAW ANTONNNNN AND I’M FREAKING OUT BECAUSE THAT SPEECH LS TOFDAY AND I HAVENT PRACTICED IT AT ALLLLLL LMAO IM SO FUCKED

[quietwingsinthesky]

what if. Amy “fix-it” because hallucifer makes sam so paranoid about dean leaving for no reason that sam gives in and follows him and is witness to the whole thing

[star-crossed-lizards]

i miss my ex but i don’t miss the effect he had on me something terrible happens to me when im in a relationship and it just ruins everything

[ssreeder]

heyy:)

May I ask how the next chapter is going/ if you‘ve started writing it yet? (Don‘t wanna stress you, I‘m just interested)

have a nice day:))

Hiiii I have absolutely started the next chapter lol. I’m actually trying to finish the damn thing. I have 13k and 1 1/2 POVs left then the editing soooo I’ll probably post next weekend? (I gotta give my lovely beta time to do her thing)

It’s going pretty good all things considered… Better for some lol. Zuko is kind of making things difficult, & Sokka is absolutely making things difficult & Jee is just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

(Toph knows exactly what’s going on)

:) :D

[exopelagic]

okay facing consequences of my actions

[cybercanadian]

You guys I’m having a dilemma

I’m sort of talking to this guy. We matched on Tinder 2 months ago and I messaged him, he barely chatted back so we didn’t talk. Then a month later he follows me on insta and messages me and starts chatting. We FaceTime and chat and it goes well for a week, then he basically ghosts me

Now today, 3 weeks later he messages me on Grindr like nothing of it, and we end up planning a day trip out of town to ski. And while we’re on the phone talking about this, it comes out that he never saved my number in his phone. So I’m like hurt by that bc wtf? Like we texted and FaceTimed each other?

Honestly I was confused about him when I started writing this but now I’m not because this man is just giving red flags tbh. Thanks for reading through this

[fingertipsmp3]

Today has been a productive day :)

[diari0deglierrori]

Getting hit with a sudden nostalgia because it’s the end of the year and I’ll soon have to take an important decision for my future but I’m still so unsure about many things