#it's frustrating bc i just feel that there's a straight

[leighsartworks216]

Yes This Fear's Got A Hold On Me

Zayne x gn!Reader

Literally drabbled this out earlier while cooking dinner bc it hit me so hard. I think I'm just in the mood for putting Zayne through angst rn

Title from "Death" by White Lies

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fear of death, overthinking, domestic moments, established relationship, rain/storms, recklessness, self-sacrificing behavior, cooking/food

Word Count: 1,767

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AO3

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“I can’t answer the phone right now, I’m too busy kicking Wanderer butt! Leave a message and-”

Zayne sighs and hits the end call button again. Every call goes straight to voicemail. He can’t help but be worried.

The rain is coming down in torrents outside. It hits the windows like angry fists. The wind howls like wolves in the night. The streets are flooded, but even if they weren’t you took your bike into work today and all public transport is closed. He called your coworkers earlier, just on the off chance you actually listened to the shelter in place warnings, but they said you’d left an hour ago.

His pacing is going to eat through to the apartment below if you don’t turn up soon. He tries calling one last time. Not two words into the automated message, he’s ending the call and shoving his phone in his pocket.

He shrugs on his coat, prepared to make the last ditch effort of going out there to find you himself when there’s a knock on the door. One sleeve hangs half off his shoulder as he swings it open. His heart is caught in his throat.

You force a smile through chattering teeth. A puddle forms under your feet on the welcome mat, with smaller puddles trailing down the hall from the elevator. “My hands are too pruny,” you manage, gesturing with a nod at the door handle and its biometric lock.

He doesn’t quite register your words, pulling you inside hurriedly. Your shoulders are soaked with water where he touches them. Your whole body is soaked with water. He helps you take off your coat. It drops to the floor in a wet heap to be dealt with later. “Did you walk all the way here?” he asks. He already knows the answer.

You nod. You tuck your hands in your armpits, desperate to contain what little warmth you have left as he helps tug off your shoes. Your socks are soggy and uncomfortable. A forceful chill wracks your entire body, before settling back into the consistent, exhausting chills they were before. “I was gonna call, but my phone died.”

Well, that explains his last 20 minutes of frustration. “I’ll scold you after you get warmed up.”

“‘Preciate it.”

He shakes his head as he takes his coat off to wrap it around your shoulders. It’s ever so slightly warm from the short amount of time he had it on, enough to provide a smidge of relief.

Your steps slap against the hardwood as you’re led across the floor he was pacing only minutes ago. He leads you straight to the bathroom and abandons you by the sink to start running the water for a shower. You whine at the sight of even more water.

“Aren’t I wet enough?” You know it’s for the best, but you feel oddly reminiscent of a cat being forced to take a bath.

Zayne doesn’t dignify your complaint with more than a stern look. As the water runs, steam starting to billow up overtop the glass doors, he returns to you and steals the dry outer layer you’d only just gotten. You whine again, unbidden. He has the decency to look a little sorry as he continues to strip you down. “You’ll be warm soon. While you heat up, I’ll make you dinner.”

You shiver. Goosebumps raise up all over your body, exposed to the unforgiving air. You rub your arms. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s for my own sanity, if you must know.”

On any normal day, Zayne’s hands usually ran pretty cold. You liked to joke that it was because he’s a doctor, and all doctors seem to have cold hands all the time. Right now, they feel so warm against your skin as he helps you into the shower, under the blessedly hot water. He doesn’t pay attention to the water that gets on his sleeves as you cling to him. You think you see a hint of a smile before you close your eyes and put your face right under the spray, shuddering with the temperature shock.

“Take your time. I’ll leave some clothes out for you.” He shuts the glass door and gets to work gathering the soaking wet clothes left behind. If you didn’t get sick after this, he’d have to write it up in a medical journal as an unexplained phenomena.

“Thank you~” you call out.

He shakes his head, though you can’t see it. You really drive him up the wall, sometimes. Walking for an hour through a monsoon for no justifiable reason is up there in the most stress-inducing things you’ve done on the ever-growing list he has. And yet, here you are, thanking him as he takes care of you, fighting against the possibility of a cold that hangs overhead like an undeniable certainty. God, he loves you so.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and beelines for the laundry room. All your clothes go into the wash. Your coat gets hung up to air dry. He stuffs your shoes with newspaper to draw the water out. Then, to the bedroom, where he pulls out some fresh, dry clothes for you to change into. He sets them on the bathroom counter, listening as you quietly hum to yourself. At last, he gets to work preparing your favorite hot drink as he works on making a batch of soup.

All the while, his body readjusts to the fact that you’re okay. He hones in on your humming while he chops up vegetables, willing himself to relax and release all the thoughts that had plagued him before - terrible images, all made worse with his own medical knowledge putting names to all the conditions and effects that could have destroyed you. The rain knocks on the kitchen window as a cruel reminder of what could have been.

But none of it happened. You’re here. You’re only a couple rooms over, taking a shower. You’re here. You’re going to drink from your special mug and sigh with the first bite of your soup. You’re here. You’re going to be safe in his arms tonight, fast asleep, not face-down under the harsh flood-

The image of your bloated body, drowned and lifeless, jolts through his system like an ice bath.

You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.

He stirs the soup around the pot.

The water of the shower shuts off when it’s just about done. He pulls down two bowls from the overhead cabinet and ladels some into both. Though he doesn’t really have an appetite, he knows he should eat something. Maybe the normalcy of a quiet night in will bring it back. For now, he puts more of the savory concoction in your bowl than in his.

Your socked feet don’t make much sound as you shuffle through the apartment to the kitchen. The sleeves of one of his many cardigans is bunched up at your elbows, as they’re far too long on you otherwise. The sight of you in his clothes - something he didn’t lay out for you to change into, nonetheless - only makes the fear in his chest ache even more.

You smile at him, apologetic and grateful all at once. “I’m ready for your lecture now,” you say. He can see the way you seem to brace for it. The way you avoid looking him directly in the eye, like a child who knows they’ve done something bad and is about to be grounded for it. The way you pick at the threads of the cardigan, restless and anxious. The way your shoulders bunch up toward your ears without you even realizing, preparing for the blow of his scolding.

It’s all too much.

You look up at him with wide-eyed confusion as he crosses the short distance between you and wraps you up in a tight hug. His face is pressed securely into the crook of your neck. His hands rest on your back, drawing you close to his body. The warm air of his sigh graces your skin when you hug him back.

“Zayne?” You gently pet his hair. He doesn’t let you pull back to see his face.

In all your time with him, he’s never hugged you like this before. You can feel the way his fingers curl around the knit of his cardigan, the slight shudder in his breath, the tension in his muscles.

“Please,” he whispers - begs, “don’t do that again.”

Slowly, as the realization begins to sink in, you squeeze him tighter.

It’s easy to throw yourself into danger - you do it every single day at work. If you get hurt, you’re saving someone else the pain. If you get a scratch, a civilian doesn’t. If you break a leg, someone else gets the chance to run away. It’s a commendable trait for a Hunter.

You didn’t realize how painful that would be for someone else.

“I thought… I thought getting back home would… I didn’t want you to be alone.” The explanations all feel hollow, for how true they are.

“What if you didn’t make it?” he questions. His voice is tight with emotion. It’s locked away under a layer of severity. “Nobody had any idea where you were. All I knew was that you weren’t at work. If the storm overpowered you, we wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know.” He holds you tighter. “I’d rather spend one night alone than the rest of my nights alone. Do you understand?”

You nod immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He exhales shakily. “Please, think of your own safety first. Just once.” His fingers slowly release their hold on you. His shoulders fall as he reluctantly lets you go. His eyes stare into yours like a turbulent forest, trees kicked all around by hurricane winds. “Are you still cold?” he changes the subject. You let him.

“A little.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the counter with the bowls of soup and your favorite mug. “We can eat this on the couch. By sitting together, we can conserve our warmth.”

You tug on his shoulder lightly. He leans down without restraint, watching you. You kiss his cheek. “I love you,” you remind him, feeling as though you need to after the hell you must have put him through.

He closes his eyes for a second, taking in those wonderful words. When he opens them again, the hurricane has been reduced to nothing more than a light breeze. He looks at you with all the love of winter giving way to spring. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[user2718273]

Terrorheads r always dunking on goodsir for the moral absolutism & then having absolutely no nuance in their own conceptions of good & evil. Like when goodsir finally snaps & poisons the mutineers ppl are like "oh see hes a bad person cus he couldnt forgive them cus he only thinks in black & white!!!!" but like bro. If somebody kidnapped u and forced u to carve up your coworkers' bodies for consumption u would not feel too friendly toward them i think. Or just how ppl talk abt goodsir in general. Like yeah he believes in colonizer shit, he was raised by colonizers. Every1 on the ships believes in colonizer shit i fear. But he gets more shit abt it than anyone else bc theres this weird conception that its worse to try and do good and get it wrong than to just straight up act out of vanity or greed. Not that goodsir should be absolved of anything, but its weird how ppl have so little empathy for characters whose desire to do good is tainted by ideological conditioning. Like bro i hate to break it to u. We all have ideological conditioning. If u act like thats some inherent moral flaw and not the inevitable product of living in a society and absorbing that society's beliefs, u will have a very hard time recognizing it outside of tv shows where people are just characters.

Also theres a difference between having no empathy for franklins men bc ur pissed at them and having no empathy out of principle. I feel like theres some recognition of personhood that comes w putting someone on the receiving end of a human emotion like anger, whereas if ur just like "logically i know colonizer bad, so empathy for colonizer = bad," ur putting them on a subhuman level out of the reach of emotion. U dont feel anger or empathy for them. U never find out what u feel toward them bc without accepting the possibility that u might reach muddy, nuanced, morally frustrating conclusions, theres no wiggle room to feel what u feel. But then u never get to feel the anger either. U cant understand things from either side bc once u start trying to sort everything into concrete moral categories, then ur not understanding individuals, ur defining variables, and everything becomes theoretical. I feel like thats part of the reason why when ppl put the expedition on the level of the subhuman, they often elevate the netsilik to the superhuman. Like ppl have a weirdly hard time conceptualizing that silna has complex motivations & is capable of developing complex relationships w other characters? Theyre just like "oh wow shes being so nice to goodsir, she must have stockholm syndrome or be wayyy too forgiving." Cus if u imagine franklins men as having one pure and self-contained nature that opposes the pure and self-contained nature of the netsilik, then theres no way they can genuinely interact. They can only touch each other under the guise of something else. Silna must not adequately understand goodsir's role in the fuckery ripping up her world. Which is ridonkulous to me bc her first interaction w him was when his party shot her father & then goodsir prevented him from dying on the ice. Like. She is not under any illusions that this man isnt part of the hurt and destruction. She just finds a way to care abt him anyway. Not bc she's some fountain of forgiveness, but bc despite the things she must hate about him, there are also things she loves. Same w crozier. Idk if she feels affection for him in the same way she does goodsir, but she def doesnt just save him bc shes a saint. She feels anger and bitterness just like any other person, and if she wanted to, she couldve left crozier to die like des voeux. Personally i think she saved him bc he was the only one left who had seen what she'd seen and she didnt wanna have to bear it alone but idk. She had her reasons. Anyway goodsir is literally a butch buttom so the wokes cant even get her. #She positionality on my moral puritanism til i absolve

[caernua]

if i beat my gym anxiety this year i will literally be unstoppable

[manasurge]

Just a bit of lore relevant vent art (with terrible proportions bc apparently I mess that up horribly when I'm tired ugh. Watch me regret posting this tomorrow. The head size is already driving me mad bc it's too big, and I can feel myself wanting to abort this mission already) of Mourynn just, lying down on top of one of those large elevated Pale Tree roots far above the Grove (and far away from everyone else), and during the time between the early years and before the Personal story. Caithe is gone (Destiny's Edge), Wynne is gone (bc well, y'know...), even Faolain is gone (bc of Caithe in DE), and she's just feeling miserable, lost, and alone. (Her hair is in between her sapling hair and the Zhaitan hair, so it's grown out a bit bc she's depressed, and she's meant to be in the new outfit she designed, but I'm in the process of redesigning it a bit, so I've made a few tentative changes for now. Her collar is now just an extension of her clavicle leaves which can be put up like a collar, or can be draped down over her shoulders or back)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

What’s up with the ties between Sally & Eddie?

There are quite a few - to the point where I’m starting to suspect that they may be foils, or at least inherently tied together in the story.

First let's bring things back to the clocks. The “day” side has an obvious resemblance to Sally, like how the “night” side resembles Eddie. There’s not really much I can say here since we don’t know much more yet, and who knows if this has changed behind the scenes. But just think about that, the rarity of the color purple, night vs day, and the “monster”. Keep it in your head, I think it may be important. 

Also the fact that Eddie is the only one with a watch, but Sally’s face has an incredibly similar face on her door.

Obviously Sally has some sort of beef with Eddie, despite him being nothing but friendly and (to our knowledge) being undeserving of it. One thought I entertained was “maybe Sally is dismissive of him because he’s a worker,” but that holds zero water when you consider how perfectly friendly Sally was with Howdy (karen Sally debunked <3). The second thought I had was “maybe Sally senses the queer in Eddie and it intimidates her” - which would make sense if Sally is a lesbian like I suspect. Internalized homophobia, anyone? This holds up if Eddie is going to turn out to be - not open about himself, but comfortable in his skin in a way that, say, Frank isn’t. Which I have a feeling that will be the case, which would likely make Sally put on airs even more so than usual. 

Anyone else seeing a continuous trend of (social) masks and performances unfolding in the Neighborhood? I sure am.

But let’s talk about why I think they might be foils. They balance each other out in an interesting way, despite their only solid similarity being that Both will work/perform no matter the weather. They have a lot of closely related differences:

Eddie has been mentioned (and implied within the story so far) to have a deeper well of knowledge than he lets on, but acts humble about it. Sally has been mentioned (and implied) to know less than she portrays, but acts like a bit of a know-it-all - she pretends to know things that she doesn’t. 

Eddie’s role is about helping others at his own expense, while Sally’s is using others to reach fame. 

Eddie strives to connect with his Neighbors and is all about accuracy/precision. Sally is in her own little world and has proved to be more than willing to improvise / not think things through before acting.

Eddie is slow to anger, and Sally is easily irritated. 

Selfless vs Selfish.

Night vs Day. 

And to put them in the Johari Window - i believe that Sally resides in the Blind Spot (known to others, not known to self), and Eddie resides in either the Facade (not known to others, known to self) OR the Unknown (not known to others, not known to self). Personally I’m starting to believe that Eddie may reside in both. 

It’s far too early to draw any real conclusions, and theorizing on all of this is difficult. I feel as though - as usual - we have puzzle pieces but no frame of reference for the way they fit together, what picture they build. And who knows, tomorrow’s update may shred this to ribbons, but I doubt it. 

One thought I had was that they’re in cahoots about something - it doesn’t have to be something malicious or some sort of secret plot, it could simply be something they both know and are trying to keep quiet about. Eddie is trying to connect with Sally since they have this in common, but Sally is actively putting distance between them to preserve their secret / plausible deniability. Do I actually believe this? Meh. I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks.

So current base thoughts: Sally is dismissive of Eddie either because he intimidates/scares her on an internalized level, or she’s actively trying to put distance between them for a currently unknown reason. There’s probably a secret third option I haven’t even considered!

[shima-draws]

Actually curious as to what people’s general opinion of Ozbert is in this year of 2023. Does shipping them equate to getting hashtag cancelled? Are they still The OTP of the series?? Or are they strictly Platonic Besties For Life. I do not know

It’s weird tho bc obviously if you’ve read the manga you KNOW their situation is very Complicated™️. When they were both the same age it was fine but then Oz got yeeted into the Abyss and time jumped 10 years forward while he was in there for like 3 days and suddenly Gil’s like. 9 years older than him. But then Uncle Oscar still classifies Oz as being 25 even tho he’s physically 15. And then we find out that Oz’s body isn’t even HIS it belongs to Jack so that’s messed up. AND we find out Gil’s actually not just 24 he’s OVER 100 years old bc Baskerville shit. And THEN we find out Oz is actually the true B Rabbit so that makes it so he’s probably even older than Gil is. When we get to the end of the series they’re both canonically confirmed to be hundred(s) of years old so I’m sitting here like. Well,

ALSO looking at these manga panels and official artworks and stuff from the anime I’m like

Well, there’s definitely SOMETHING going on there, that’s for sure,

[capricioussun]

Will probably delete later but genuinely WHY do so many ppl hate uf papyrus. "He’s horrible and a bad brother and abusive >:(((" my guy. YOU made him that way

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[mokutone]

here's some recent flubs + failures from the past month!

[adamantine-ribbon]

i can't get the accommodations

[ipusingularitae]

my dad: *telling me i do have socialization deficits, that i need to step out more and interact with people and look like i am part of the environment and that i am "there" and present*

me, knowing damn well i have socialization deficits and feeling overwhelmed in social situations, especially when I don't feel like i fit and when I don't know the other people: ... okay

my dad: did you get upset with me telling you this?

me, dissociating so I don't start crying in front of him: ... no

[tyrannuspitch]

i think. i should read more comics.

[shirogane-oushirou]

[cw vent: chronic illness, general world politics mention w no detail)

"man. i'm so tired. i feel like i can't do anything selfship related. is it because my energy's been sapped from family visiting and everyone wanting to do ~summer activities~ nonstop? am i so in my head about "getting ren's story right without stepping over any lines" that i've backed myself into a perfectionist corner? is the world just going to shit so hard that i can't have one (1) minute of escape on this blog before going back to working through the political hellscape we're in? god even trying to make this plushie pattern is killing me even though i want to hold my guy So Badly AUGH."

/finishes the plushie pattern after trying multiple body bases and literally buying a japanese ebook about plushie face and hair design/

"actually what if i lived forever and spent all of that time making an army of these fuckers to swim in? what then?"

[robinsnest2111]

still feeling bad even after food and a couple hours of sleep. how mean

[20w14a]

Do Unto Others by MSI gives me Elquackity vibes while Pt. 2 gives me Quackity vibes.

[chickenkooks]

Hi, it's May 2023 now time rly does fly fast huh? I still re-read TRA bec it's my comfort fic. Anyway i hope you're doing well and still having amazing sex lol! I miss hearing bout ur seggs stories and just ur life updates. I hope one day if by chance u can still open this acc, and you'll see our positive messages ahhh! tysm for writing tra really. Every year i still send you an ask it's pathetic jshdhd but i miss you sm my fave writer but I hope u're well, happy and healthy! 💜 it's been what 4 or 5 years but i still won't give up hope that u'll update us someday even if it's just a life update huhueee im just so thankful u wrote tra. And i truly miss you xx take care always!

oh boy so hi i don't even know how many years its been at this point but this message just really warmed my heart and i thought you were owed at least a response!!! thank you so so so much for this kind message. you guys have been getting after me ever since i left and trust me i see every message but i just didn't know what to say? i don't even know how many of you remember me or will even see this. im sorry for that. god i can't believe its been that long. i don't know if ill ever update tra. i really intended to finish and hoped having beta readers would help but.... i think i had left the fandom at that point so it was hard to put myself back in that same space. i really want to say how i intended for it to end but there is a part of me that hopes to finish it. i just don't know when that'll be, if I even decide to. but i've been getting back into writing lately but I post on ao3 now!!! if u guys are at all interested I could answer messages privately? anyway I hope ur doing well too whoever u are and i appreciate u from the bottom of my heart!!!!!! thank you so much for your patience