#perfect amount of angst

[ourplacetobefree]

“I’m not upset that he’s getting married for that reason,” Wooyoung stresses, “I don’t have feelings for him whatsoever anymore. It's just - I always thought that I would find someone before him you know? He hurt me pretty bad, I wanted to one-up him in at least that. But here he is getting married in Thailand while I’m still single and lonely.”

“You will find someone that you love,” San whispers gently.

Wooyoung sighs. The problem isn't finding someone that he loves. The problem is finding someone that loves him.

or the one in which wooyoung's genius plan to not going to his ex’s wedding single is by making his best friend fake date him

[ashbunny2027]

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account Completely understand what you're saying and respect that but it's soooooo good. Genuinely really, really well acted, written, excellent cameos. Personally hoping because of it's connection to the Sandman it will get at least another series 🙏🏻

the way I would be so excited to put dead boy detectives on my watch list if I had like. any confidence at all it would get more than one season. like. congratulations to the "we cancel all of our cool and interesting new shows after one season" company for making me not wanna watch your cool and interesting new show because you'll cancel it after one season. gotta hand it to ya

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

[unhappy-sometimes]

started reading an unfinished fic because i was bored.... turns out to be one of the best things i've ever read... it hasn't updated in months... the author has deleted all of their social medias.... i will never love again...

[ghost-bxrd]

Talon!Dick, clinging to Jason while hissing viciously at Bruce: This is MY baby chick. How DARE you try to take my chick away from me. I'll GUT you if you take even one step towards him.

Bruce, on the kitchen floor, exhausted, unable to understand any of Dick's hissing, and just trying to get Dick and Jason to eat some toast: I know it looks burnt, but this is actually one of the least burnt things I've ever made.

Alfred, watching with amusement: To be fair to our guests, Master Bruce, I don't think I'd trust anyone trying to entice me into eating a plate of charcoal, either.

OMG YISSS!!! Bruce trying to get the boys to warm up to him with food but Dick is just mind numbingly TERRIFIED that Bruce will try to eat Jason or do to Jason WHAT B DID TO THE TOAST OH LORD! Dick is in a constant state of STRESS because this huge Bat keeps trying to coax his chick away from him! 😭🥺

On the other hand Jason is convinced that Batman aka Bruce Wayne aka a friggin BILLIONAIRE snatched them off the streets to do god knows what to them and is ready to stab the living daylights out of him while also clinging to Dick like his life depends on it because “you’ll have to separate us over my dead body, pervert!”

And Alfred just watching the veritable train wreck happening with a tired sigh.

Bruce finds many books on how to deal with traumatized children on his nightstand when he slinks off to bed eventually.

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game perhaps 25 or 22? :]

-searchforahero from the main blog <:

for the choose violence ask game!

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

i've answered this one a couple times so hmm lemme think. OH i think the Pre-Crisis relationship between Jason and Nocturna <3 i'd do ANYTHING to have more fanon content for Nocturna being Jason's maternal figure and how their bond could be explored. i think about her a lot and i wish we got more of her, it feels like fanon just glosses over it. which is understandable given it's Pre-Crisis and all, *but* a lot of fanon Jason takes pull from his Pre-Crisis comics so i feel like we should see more of a Nocturna presence. like she seems like the type of character fandom woud love to sink their teeth into. mysterious love interest of Bruce's fights Bruce for custody of Jason? that's PEAK fanfic material. i would like more of her <3

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

i was going to say the obvious one of antis crying about having to filter out Batcest content bc how dare Ao3 not entirely consist of content that caters to their sensibilities. but honestly? a bigger one? any complaints about Devin Grayson as a writer. most information about her is incorrect (she did not change her last name bc of Dick, Tarantula is not her self-insert, she did not write the rape scene as a personal fantasy, she is not in love with Dick) and the information that is correct and genuine criticism of her writing (how she handled the aftermath, how she wrote Dick's Romani heritage, etc) applies to *every* male writer in the industry. it's always *just* her though, that this fandom harps on to the point she's this boogeyman that somehow is responsible for every bad comic plot ever. i'm begging people to move on. complain about *literally* anyone else i'm begging. the genuine criticisms of her have been exhausted and all the other things about her are straight up misogynistic lies. because a woman in this industry will always be more scrutinized. i don't think she's perfect, nor do i think her writing is without flaws, but i do think most ppl complaining about her haven't even read her work. they just want to make a woman into a scapegoat. it'. truly irks me one day I'll write a long thinkpiece about it-

[birddcandle]

Do you know how much the people of Hels would pay for canary feathers?

I read the one ask about the feather farm and. Yeah here we are

this is art for @lunarcrown and @aquaquadrant ‘s Hels To Pay AU!! It’s so good the writing and drawings are IMPECCABLE

[alicepao13]

Charlie: I'm going undercover as a prison inmate.

Joe: Have I told you today that this is the most harebrained thing you've ever thought of?

[tfisathoughtfulnickelbakeryfire]

He's a himbo, he's a puppy, he's a harmless little guy.

[goblinbugthing]

hey ho @dairyfreenugget i drew ur gays

sorry all the effort went into petunia. anyway, these Silly Things were part of my inspiration for one of my hk aus!! and i must thank you for that

hope u get out of The Funk soon 👍 enjoy ur thingies

(based on this post)

[squarebracketsmileyface]

A Pearl by Mitski is kinda post Jaylex into Jam territory if you think about it.

Hello? Mind reader?? You are so correct???

This is even better mind reading because of what I was writing like right before I remembered i had this ask and wanted to answer it and shit. Like???? This is very much post Jaylex and into Jam, BUT it is also post Jaylex the first time they "broke up" oh my god.

Hang on, I'll explain it with the lyrics lol

Lyric analysis time because for some reason this is like my favourite thing to do when I wanna think about sorry its locked but can't actually write it for whatever reason.

You're growing tired of me You love me so hard and I still can't sleep You're growing tired of me And all the things I don't talk about

SO ABOUT THAT POST JAYLEX'S FIRST 'BREAK UP' ehehhehehehehehheheh. Right, so, after Alex started dating Amy in college, Jay did (eventually) start trying to, like, date and have sex with other people. He never really managed to date anyone, it was always just not-quite-actually-casual casual sex. And they always ended up getting tired of Jay, because they were trying their best and he was hung up on Alex still (and would be for the next rest-of-his-life) And Jay never actually talked to them about why he was the way he way, just learned to warn them ahead of time to try and scare them away so that he wouldn't end up getting hurt when they inevitably got too upset with him over something and broke it off with him.

And, obviously. Yeah, Jam. Jay's so worried that the same thing that happened with Alex and all the other people is gonna happen with Tim, and if it did it'd probably break him even worse than Alex did, honestly. Purely because the stuff with Tim would stack on top of the stuff with Alex and they'd become one thing and Jay would just not know how to deal with that literally at all.

Sorry, I don't want your touch It's not that I don't want you Sorry, I can't take your touch

Pre first Jaylex break up. Yeah. One of the reasons Jay got broken up with by at least one person was that they were meant to behaving casual sex, and Jay went through a period of time where he just, really really couldn't. Which like, fair, and fair i guess for the person being like, yeah i'll go find someone else to have sex with. but also they did it in a nasty way so never mind, fuck them lmao. (I just love putting Jay through shit lmao, I'm so sorry to that poor guy, I need to write a lil fluffy oneshot of him and Tim just being okay)

It's just that I fell in love with a war Nobody told me it ended And it left a pearl in my head And I roll it around every night Just to watch it glow Every night, baby, that's where I go

Ow. Just. Ow.

Cos, yeah, Jay did. He really, really did fall in love with a war didn't he? That whole relationship with Alex was just this constant series of battles with himself and his feelings for Alex, and battles with Alex himself because of how he treated Jay and how Jay wanted to be treated. And his brain can't fully comprehend that Tim's not going to just be the exact same as everyone else, the exact same as Alex. And the thing is that Tim IS going to be different, but they're not going to have enough time for Jay's head to actually wrap itself around that so that he can believe it.

And obviously, they never could get enough time, because of all the shit with the operator, but Tim at least is holding out hope that they'll both survive is and they'll get the time afterwards.

Sorry, I don't want your touch It's not that I don't want you Sorry, I can't take your touch

Jay's so scared that having issues with intimacy is gonna fuck up his chances with Tim, but it wont. Logically he knows it wont (and I refuse to make them angsty enough that Jay wouldn't bother to say no if he didn't wanna do something) but there is still this little part of his head that says that if he goes too long not wanting to have sex, it'll somehow fuck something up.

There's a hole that you fill You fill, you fill

Also I fully intend for Jay to be very unhealthy about Tim :] Just like he was very unhealthy about Alex (especially back in college)

Poor guy's gonna fucking idolize Tim once he realizes Tim really really actually likes him. Which, y'know. Not good. Thankfully Jay's lil eventual obsession or whatever it is (idk, a hyperfixation on a person? that's what I called it. Basically, pretty much every waking thought Jay has is somehow about Tim/reminds him of Tim, if Tim is even slightly in a bad mood Jay assumes it's because of him and gets viciously terrified that Tim's going to leave him and hate him forever, he'd accept any kind of 'penance' or punishment from Tim for whatever he did wrong, if anything bad happens to Tim Jay get's violently enraged and wants to 'fix it' the quickest way possible, etc. He basically feels like Tim is perfect and he can't live without him. idk if that makes sense? I'm tired and never figured out what the fuck this thingy is, but i'm giving it to Jay)

Tim is Jay's missing piece, and Jay's going to hack at his own edges to make sure that Tim fits him, just like he did back in college to try and make Alex fit him.

He's just made up of pieces of himself and other people that he sawed off and cobbled together to make sure that the person he was in love with would perfectly 'complete' and 'fix' him.

But it's just that I fell in love with a war And nobody told me it ended And it left a pearl in my head And I roll it around every night Just to watch it glow Every night, baby, that's where I go Just to watch it glow

goddamnit now i wanna plan a fic to dive into Tim and Jay's relationship after sorry its locked and before Jay dies, just so I can make Jay not okay and Tim not okay, but their brand of not okay works well enough for the short amount of time they have together. If Jay lived they'd have the worlds messiest break up oh my god lmao.

why do i torture them like this?

[obwjam]

stop because ted lasso g/t is a need i binged watched that show in 2 days i have not slept and i am unhinged

you do not understand how much this has consumed me just IMAGINE

ted bringing his tiny friend to work with him and everyone is just as nice saying hello to them as they are with ted

the tiny sitting on rebecca’s desk every morning and rebecca giving them little pieces of biscuit

roy being his usual roy self around them… but he’s also literally the most protective person on the planet and gives any player the DEATH stare if they’re being too rowdy around them. he’s actually overprotective and it’s a problem lmao

keeley is just their bestie. always making them little outfits and spoiling them in every single way

jamie… omg jamie… the tiny was terrified of him at first and for good reason! he was such a dick to them but he’s slowly had to earn their trust back and now they’re like siblings who always try and get under each other’s skin but out of pure love

beard knows way too much about borrower culture and borrower lifestyle. the tiny accepts this

the rest of the players ADORE the tiny. behind closed doors they fight about who’s gonna get to give them shoulder rides. they are so kind and the tiny just loves hanging out with everyone and watching things happen

they feel safest with ted tho. he knows exactly what to do and what to say so the tiny never feels intimidated or scared around him

they console each other during panic attacks/rough times just by being there for each other and listening

ted built them a little bed in his flat and makes sure they have all the creature comforts they could possibly need. he will drop everything for his tiny friend

[yuuminni]

awww

[satanicleaftailedgeko]

So after today episode I can assume we are all shocked. And we also know the two ways to break an anchor:

anger/violence or empathy/being emotionally vulnerable

Now I think we can all agree that at some point an anchor is going to be someone we all don’t want to die. Someone important

now I love the whole Normal being an anchor at point- especially an anger one. And this is entirely possible! But I raise you this

Terry Jr as an anchor

imagine it. Scary knows what she has to do, it’s what Willy told her needs to be done and she trusts Willy. But there was an anchor close to them they didn’t seem to catch at first

And just as Normal realises it so does Scary. The last anchor is her stepdad. Maybe he’s the anchor of anger. Or maybe even loss. He lost his dad, Ron and maybe even his mother.

On top of that he feels like he’s lost his daughter scary though how could he loose something he never got to have in the first place? And in all of this maybe he even began to loose himself

Now Scary knows what she has to do. Willy said what she had to do. Destroy the anchor with hate and violence. And this one will be easy! She doesn’t like Terry. She would be better off without him

Terry as an anchor would be easily destroyed but would scary actually want to kill him? She loves her stepdad no matter how much she says otherwise and her mum loves Terry.

But she trusts Willy. So what would she end up doing? Killing her stepdad? Or having a heart to heart with him and destroying the anchor in the way they were supposed to do from the start.

[russellsppttemplates]

I was not sure you liked the angsty side of my writing, but you seem to be lulling me a little bit closer to that side every day with your requests and I can only think you want my inevitable demise 👀🫣

This is a joke, obviously, and I am reading and already daydreaming about all of the requests you send (thank you 🫶) and the support you've given 🤗

[yume-fanfare]

dramatica act 1 peak timeloop story to me