#loving takes a lot of forgiveness

[solvisun]

smartass on court but a dumbass in the kitchen

i live for domestic tsukki actually

SORRY xo | K. Tsukishima

synopsis; he says somethings he didn’t mean, and he apologises in his signature tsukki way.

word count; 1482

warnings; hurt to comfort, no prns mentioned for reader, a lot of tension i guess, finished at 12am thanks.

“—and then I told her that I—“ you stop mid sentence when you realise he might not be listening. “Are you even listening to me?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him as the grip around the steaming hot mug in your hands tightens a little.

The room was dimly lit by a feeble light, and nothing other than the soft hum of the television causing minuscule vibrations in the drums of your ears can be heard.

Tsukishima’s head was lolling back against the cushions, arms limply sprawling over the sides. His eyes were tightly shut in an attempt to block any spec of light from making its way into his retina.

“Hm?” he questioned, turning his head a little. The question was, however, laced with an unspoken tone of annoyance that made the hairs on your skin stand like saluting soldiers. “I’m so tired, can we have this talk later?”

He is tired. His body is aching from the amount of times he’s jumped today. His head feels slightly wobbly on his shoulders. He doesn’t want to talk because he thinks he will say something wrong. He knows he will say something wrong, and mess this up.

You blink at him. Your mouth grows a mind of its own. “You’re always tired,” You say before you realise it, while placing the mug on the coffee table that is slightly coated with a thin layer of dust. “Shit, sorry I didn’t—“

“Well, sorry, I have a fucking life,” he muttered with a taunting voice, lips pressed into a slight frown that had a hint of exasperation tattooed into the delicate creases on his lips. He wished he didn’t say that. He wanted someone to slap him in the face.

The previous hum of the television dissipated into nothingness, your pupils widening by the words spilling out of his lips. “What?”

“You heard me, sorry I have dreams I’m chasing,”

“You’re not being serious, are you,” you replied. Was he implying that you’re a good-for-nothing with no goals in life? You gulped, heart skipping a several beat.

“I am. I’m tired of this, it’s becoming a lot to deal with,” he replied. His fingers went up to his temples, rubbing them in small half-soothing circles in a sad attempt to quell the throbbing headache evolving behinds his eyes.

Your mind reeled, the word tired echoing across your lobes in a manner that created a distorted symphony of confusion and disbelief from within.

“So listening to your partner talking is a chore now? Emphasis on the partner that has no life or dreams to chase.”

“I didn’t mean that—“

“You said it though,” you replied, voice faltering a little with an overwhelming sense of suffocation submerging every cell in your body. You clenched and unclenched your fists in an attempt to calm your nerves.

“I just need a few minutes of silence, I fucking came from a match, okay? I’m tired and this is not too much to ask for,” he bit back.

Saying this doesn’t feel right, he thought. Saying this might have been a mistake, he thought again. Because lying is bad. He loved hearing your voice. It’s what kept him going, the contagious hum of your voice, the way it trembled with anticipation, the giggle he’d like to store in a bottle and get drunk over every single day. Lying is bad. He was lying.

Silence laced itself, it’s thin threads tangling around the both of you. Your eyes were wide open, pupils dilating with hurt. Your cheeks flushed—a hint of embarrassment tattooing itself on you.

Embarrassment mixed with disbelief.

“Okay, so next time I won’t ever speak unless you ask me to, does that work for you? I will book an appointment to speak with you, actually,” you cut through the silence, voice growing louder. It had a slight tremble to it—one he could only hear. One he’d recognise even if he heard your voice from across the seven oceans.

“That’s not what I’m saying—“

“Oh, so tell me what you’re saying, because it sounds to me like you just don’t care,”

“I do care, I’m just exhausted and I don’t want to have a conversation I don’t want to have.” As soon as these words spilled out of his mouth, regret hit him like a tidal wave. A cold hand clutched his beating heart as he saw the colour drain from your face.

“…a conversation you don’t want to have…?” You questioned, brows furrowing in hurt, the question leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No wait—that’s not—“

“No it’s okay, I’ll stop talking then, you don’t have to waste your precious energy on me, or listen to convos you don’t want to have” you stood up, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Everything else he said has dissipated into background noise as you focused on the ringing of your ears.

You rush in hurried steps into your shared bedroom and slam the door hard enough for the sound to echo throughout the walls of your small apartment. Tonight, you fell asleep with caged sobs, a tear-soaked pillow and a heavy feeling chaining around your heart, suffocating your every breath.

The clock ticked 4.56pm.

With every tick, with every time a hand moves, you are reminded of the argument you’ve had with him last night. It’s 4.57pm and you’ve been on bed all day, arms sprawled in a chaotic manner, pillow soaked with tears, hair tangled in a mess you might never be able to detangle, and a slightly dry throat.

You wonder where it all went wrong. You wonder if the words he’d uttered had a hint of truth to them. You wonder if he had thought about what he said in the past 12 hours.

You decided to finally give the bed a break and get up. With a heavy heart, you slowly lifted yourself off of the soft mattress, the soles of your feet making contact with the cold wooden floor, sending a shiver down the small of your back.

Truthfully, you expected the place to be a mess. But as soon as you stepped foot into the leaving room, each step once again leaving a trail of chills down your back, your nostrils were engulfed by the warm smell of salted caramel and morning coffee.

Your eyes trailed around, the previously visible coat of dust on the coffee table has been wiped into nothingness, the couch was dusted and cushions placed in a way that scratched your brain, floors so clean you can practically see a reflection of your dishevelled hair on them.

But what caught your eyes the most was the small basket sitting still on the same couch. You step closer, your curiosity getting the best of you. A woven basket with flowers, a mug, a vanilla scented candle, and a few other stuff. A card. You pick up the card, a silly smile etched into your lips.

TO Y/N

I’M VERY SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID YESTERDAY. I DIDN’T MEAN ANY OF IT, IT’S NOT AN EXCUSE BUT I WAS TIRED AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TOOK OVER ME. I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT I REALLY ENJOY LISTENING TO YOU. I LIKE YOUR VOICE, IDIOT. I LOVE YOU AND I’M SORRY.

—TSUKISHIMA KEI.

The sound of rustling pans filled your ears, catching your attention. You rushed into the kitchen, only to be welcomed by your boyfriend, with your pink cooking apron, and a frown that screams confusion chiselled on his lips as his eyes read over what seems like a recipe book.

“What are you doing?” Your voice startled him, causing him to drop one of the pans he was holding in his hands.

“Holy shit, you scared me,” he muttered, leaning down to pick up the pan.

“I think that’s deserved,” you smiled as you make your way to him in a jolly manner, yesterday’s conversation seeming to have disappeared from your head.

“Maybe,” he replied, setting the pan on the countertop. His hand made its way to his neck, an attempt to rub the nervousness away. You stare at him, waiting for him to spill what he’s about to say. “Will—will you continue telling me what you told that woman,” he mumbled, a faint blush sprawling on the apples of his cheeks.

You eyed him with confusion and a furrowed brow. Until you realise what he meant. A grin made its way to your lips as you stepped closer, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"I’m glad you asked," you replied, a warm smile on your lips as you launched into a detailed recounting of yesterday's events.

The intimacy of the moment, the shared space of your kitchen, the rhythmic clinking of pots and pans as he (cluelessly) cooked, and the easy flow of your conversation, all combined to create a sense of comfortable ease.

thank u @heartmaddie and @chlosology for beta reading ily guys

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥

[seriousturd]

Silly little doodle of Ro

Close-ups under the cut hehe:

[hythlodaes]

junelezen day twenty five - old friend

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[whatudottu]

Something something Decepticon recruitment (+physical exam) yada yada putting my Malay twins headcanon to good use and making names (and a non-typical matrilineal last name as opposed to a patrilineal last name) for them :P

Old fanfiction as well as echo chambering myself I have got some headcanons in my mind that do not make surface level sense but have Syakir and Darwesh bin Kalsom!

[thousandyearphantombunker]

"women need to be meaner! Men shouldn't dictate a girls boundaries"

You couldn't handle Connie Maheswaran setting healthy (and much-needed) boundaries with her best friend. You freaking called her toxic and abusive. While season 3 of Amphibia is a hot mess Sasha Waybright being upset with Marcy isn't the problem! It makes sense she'd be pissed that she found out her friend borderline kidnapped her! Even if she can be read as kind of hypocritical, I think she has every reason to be upset! She's like what 14 at the oldest? In a terrifying situation?

It's always "set healthy boundaries" until they set boundaries with your favorite baby and don't spend 100% of their time supporting them/don't forgive their friends for their actions that hurt others

I'm sorry that Steven is your woobie child and Marcy is your comfort character but Connie and Sasha have a right to their feelings and a right to focus on their needs! It's always 'don't feel guilty about focusing on your needs' except not really because apparently focusing on yourself is actually selfish and it's morally wrong to feel certain ways about people! Connie isn't toxic- she acted really mature about the whole situation and while Sasha definitely is toxic- I think she has the right to be mad her friend borderline kidnapped her and broke her trust.

I am a firm believer in setting healthy boundaries and never letting anyone decide your boundaries for you especially when it comes to being supportive. Even if the person you are helping is a good person going through a rough patch you should still have boundaries with them- you can be supportive if you want but you should be your main priority in the need and as callous as it sounds it's not mandatory to give support to everyone especially if your being worn thin

[llondonfog]

twst (horror) tober — day 1 (listen)

and we're back for round 2!! to keep my sanity this year, i'm going to do my best to keep prompts to ~500 words. if some go longer, then more delight for us all, but this is to keep my expectations manageable and who knows? perhaps i might come back to some of these prompts the way that i still am so very fond of 2022's twstober drabbles :) anyways, i do hope you enjoy the first day's piece! (fun fact: this is a snippet from a fic idea i have buried away....) and of course, these will eventually go up on ao3 when i have the time<3

➤ Day 1: Listen | "Listen to me!"

Sebek is haunted.

Not in the way that his family and friends and neighbors who pass him by on the street and cast him pitying, sorrowful glances think— but oh, how he wishes that he was.

He hears their whispers and murmured commiseration, the hushed voices that speak of a lonely boy lost to the clutches of the unforgiving woods. They shake their heads weighed with grief like the cattails by the river, unable to imagine the gruesome sight that one of their own had stumbled upon— ah, but it was the nature of the world they bargained to live in. A true shame, a tragic reminder, that the youngest Zigvolt was fated to learn such realities from the death of his dearest friend.

Sebek does not correct them.

It is better to let them believe that his drained expression was on account of having found Silver's body mauled in the woods by the animals they are familiar with, rather than the true ones that lurk deep within those ancient glades. It is better to let them cling to their ignorance, to think that the madness of paranoia scratching at his spine is only too understandable by having to discover one's best friend at the scene of his death and the ensuring nightmares that would follow— not that he doesn't have nightmares, that is to say, only that the contents contain horrific figures very much among the living.

Either way, his family knows no better when they find him tangled within his bedsheets, trembling and choking on Silver's name.

No, Sebek is haunted by a presence far too real than the ghost of memory, and his unnerved fingers twitch in the curtains of his bedroom window as his sleep-deprived gaze blinks out to the forest's edge where he can see them.

Three figures where there had once been only two, weaving in and out of the tree line like fish in the stream beneath the call of the moonlight. If he squints, he can make out the lethal curl of dark ivory spouting from the top of one of the figures, and the way that the smaller of the trio does not touch the ground as it tugs their newest member along in a macabre vision of a dance that Sebek cannot pull his gaze away from no matter how hard he tries. There is no mistaking the gleam of familiar silver hair in the beguiling welcome of the night— and even from a mile away, Sebek can all too clearly hear the words that smiling, laughing mouth is speaking, as if Silver himself stood directly behind him in the stillness of his bedroom.

(He wonders if he turns to look, if the boy will surely be there as Sebek remembers him last; blood-stained and smiling so sweetly even in death as Sebek had found him, reaching in the dirt as if to take the hand of one who had led him to his doom.)

"Malleus begs of you to join us, he misses you terribly," Silver's voice all but sings against his strained thoughts, tremors anew bursting down his spine like shrapnel. "Please, Sebek— don't you remember the promises we made? Father came back for me, just as he said he would."

That thing is NOT your father, Sebek wishes to shout and scream in spite of how it would wake his entire family to the horrors lurking outside, the entities cursed to wander the woods and tempt those desperate enough to find solace in their gleaming smiles. But Silver is right, as he often is; Sebek does remember— he remembers a childhood of playing in the woods with Silver, an orphan his family had come to foster and adore. He remembers two imaginary friends who could breathe fire and fly, who could coax butterflies to dance along the breeze and flowers to bloom into the prettiest of crowns. He remembers how much Silver would cling to the affections of a figure with burning crimson eyes, and how much he would the same for a being that smiled down at him with crinkled emeralds older than time itself.

As he had grown older, such strange fantasies had become just that: the result of lonely and imaginative children left to their own devices, spinning stories in the fertile soil of an enchanting landscape. Sebek did not question the time Silver continued to spend within the shadowed trees, for the other boy always did have a unique aptitude for the local wildlife, nor did he find himself with time to spare to wonder about the dreamy smile Silver would often return with, or the odd snatches of unfamiliar songs he'd hear the boy humming tunelessly to himself.

In hindsight, he'd have grabbed a torch and burnt the whole fucking forest down.

Sebek's fingers force themselves to move with a herculean effort that he did not know himself to possess, yanking the curtains shut and blocking out the terrifying sight as Silver's voice rises and fades like radio static, a nauseating sickness pitching forward in his stomach.

"We're supposed to be a family now, Sebek, aren't you listening? Can you not hear them call for you too? I won't let them leave here without you, I promise we'll stay and wait—"

They'd already waited forty-five days. Sebek rocks forward on his heels, squeezing his eyes shut and swallows a hoarse, empty sob.

How many more remained until he found himself walking out to join them?

[indeliblemarking]

abuse / trauma obviously isn’t an excuse for behavior and we see that notion applied (rightfully so most of the time) in fandom but i feel like in catra’s case you really can’t remove her suffering when analyzing why her redemption is written the way it is. she’s abused interpersonally and systematically as a child soldier from toddler age and it warps her perception of every relationship in her life to the point where she isolates herself to extreme degrees to the point that she’s consistently on the brink of a mental breakdown. yes she treats people like garbage yes she makes horrible decisions but her case is like…very extreme. and that’s not to necessarily play trauma olympics with characters in other pieces of media but i feel like people kind of downplay how that factors into her reasoning and also sort of forget how young she is throughout her entire story, flashbacks and all. so obviously the show is gonna have the good guys extend sympathy and not have her prove her worth. (which is one of the main ideas that messed her up in the first place) her arc needed more time but I think it’s unnecessary to devalue it just because the characters aren’t mad at her for as long as you want them to be, they offer her love and support as she exists but still don’t excuse or enable poor behavior and don’t allow her to be in their lives and make morally corrupt decisions. anyway ik it’s 2024 but that’s something I’ve thought for a while

[rune-tisms]

wanted to make a post expanding on my sofia the first au: fia the worst, just for fun's sake ^_^ in the au, cedric is intrigued by this copy of sofia and wants to keep her around, so he lies and says she can only be destroyed with a potion. this way, he can escort her back to his tower, where he can propose the idea of the copy helping him take over the kingdom. she accepts without hesitation, thrilled to have a chance to do something so disruptive. cedric then swiftly decides to call her fia, so that things wouldn't be confusing. fia's amulet allows whoever is wearing it the ability to talk to animals, since when sofia duplicated herself, that power was active, so to speak, so it duplicated (listen i'm working with the plot hole as best i can). cedric begins using the copy of the amulet to speak properly with wormwood. the three of them concoct a plan to steal sofia's amulet; fia will pretend to be sofia after sofia herself has already gone to bed. that way, she can get into her room without being questioned. once inside, she would be careful not to wake sofia or her animal friends as she takes the amulet of avalor. after securing it, she would open the window, where wormwood would be waiting. he can then take the amulet back to cedric. fia will then hide somewhere in sofia's room until morning time, wait for her and her animal friends to leave, then sneak back to cedric's tower. fia wants to enact the plan as soon as possible, but cedric is wary. there are many things that could go wrong, and he wants them to wait a little while for the perfect opportunity, whatever that looks like to him. in the weeks following, fia gets bored a lot so cedric takes her into town to entertain her. fia was the one to suggest that he change her hair to look like his, so that she could be mistaken for his niece. the most fun fia can have, though, is messing with cedric. because in the episode where she makes her appearance she figured out so fast that he wanted the amulet, i choose to headcanon that fia is more perceptive of cedric than sofia, either for magical reasons or not. fia quickly catches on to cedric's soft spot for sofia, and abuses the fact that she is a version of sofia constantly. i'm pretty certain that i want to make fia betray cedric somehow after they manage to take over the kingdom, and he'll somewhat redeem himself by helping sofia to defeat her. i hope i actually make more for this au i actually like it a lot.

[ra-vio]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[jazzy-a]

Seeing fanart/fiction of Alastor as an asexual: Okay.

Seeing fanart/fiction of Alastor as gay/demi/straight/pan/etc: Okay.

Seeing fanart/fiction of Alastor with OOC traits: Not really his style, but okay.

Seeing fanart/fiction of Alastor frowning: You SICK piece of sh!t. What is this!? Impossible! No! Never! Wash this blood from your hands, Lady Macbeth, and pray for your sins!

[rynli]

he's such a loser and i love him

[moeblob]

Ladd: but why would you kill me when I'm willing to kill for you?? Lass: omg you can't just say you'd kill someone, Ladd. that's murder and it's frowned upon.

(and then Ladd does kill for her but it's fine and part of the job)