#sniffles. i’m just feeling nostalgic is all

[comfymoth]

qsmp monster au you’re still my baby………. you’ll always be my baby

[sweetfushi]

HIS LOVE HABITS PT 1.

fluff, slight angst | giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, sanemi shinaguzawa x reader, mentions of guilt, crying, mentions of death | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. watching the new season is making me feel nostalgic about the start of the anime :(

GIYU TOMIOKA.

Giyu shows his passion for you by spending most of what would be his alone time with you. He doesn’t always talk much during the times he’s around you, but he isn’t opposed to you talking. Giyu doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with you and knows you’re safe - despite his underlying feeling of perhaps being incapable of protecting you completely. Thus, he sometimes feels guilty for wanting to spend time with you, but he compensates for that by allowing you to guide him - choosing where to hang out, leading most conversations.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his alone time. You out of all people know best how much he indulges in silent reflection and meditation, but you’ve also noticed that he’d consult you for those things. He’d start using some of his silent reflection time to ask you questions riddled with guilt. He finds that you’re much like Tanjiro in your overwhelming ability to comfort people.

“You know,” you start as you’re walking alongside him, making your way to the noodle house, “I’m really thinking we need to change our plans. The owners know our orders at this point,” you grin, stretching your arms out.

“Supporting a small business doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he retorts, plopping his hand on your head and ruffling your hair slightly. “Besides, that makes ordering our food quicker, does it not?”

You roll your eyes but are forced to agree.

Following that brief conversation, the two of you spend the next half an hour eating to your hearts’ desires. Giyu will pause every few minutes to remove the food items from your plate that you don’t like and add them to his with a small smile, both at your sweet voice thanking him and the sight of more food on his plate.

You’ll always require a sweet treat after your meal, whether that be a drink or more food, so you either head into town to survey the sweet stands or drop by Mitsuri to see if she has any stored - she typically does and you’re forever grateful for that.

All the while, Giyu will let you ask him question upon question, start conversation after conversation, all without complaints just to lengthen the time he gets to spend with his beloved.

OBANAI IGURO.

Obanai expresses his love through promises. They’re never empty ones and he makes sure you know that, sometimes even goes as far as gently pulling your ear to discipline your ignorance towards such. Sometimes the promises are of small value, such as promising to not eat your food or not start training without you. Other times, they mean the entire world, where he’ll promise that he’ll return from a dangerous mission or that he’ll not get injured because he couldn’t ever be so weak as to let a demon injure him fatally.

Every time he promises you something, the eye contact with him is almost intimidating. Obanai feels as though averting his gaze from you connotes distrust and uncertainty, so he always ensures to gaze into your apprehensive eyes when he speaks his truth. In moments of vulnerability, when you’re crying late at night because you’re certain tonight awaits his death, he’ll emerge from the Master’s room determined to fulfil his assignment and not evoke worry.

When he sees you in such a state, sniffling and averting your gaze, he’s convinced that you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoia and fear.

“Are you really so sceptical of my return? Don’t be so foolish,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your despondent state. “I promise I’ll return to you.”

You hear Kaburamaru hiss before feeling him graze your cheek with his face. You whimper and allow him to do so, only until you motion for Obanai to sit beside you. He does so without question and cranes his neck to look into your eyes, to which you turn away from.

“Have I ever broken a promise made to you?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He huffs. “So what is your concern?”

You shrug but, in reality, know what is bothering you. Instead of telling him, however, you lift your head to look at him and pout in an attempt to satiate your tears. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t come back, Iguro. I swear.”

You can’t see his mouth, but you know he’s smiling as he nods and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

Sanemi shows his love for you through acts of service. Initially, you hadn’t noticed it, but you start questioning him when your katana appears sharper and cleaner, your uniform neatly pressed, and your food managed to suit your tastes.

“Have you only just noticed? I’m almost insulted,” he scoffs, gently smacking the back of your head only for you to groan and swat his hand away. “The swordsmiths are practically sick of me,” he grumbles, watching you admire the shine on your katana.

You grin and elbow his side, making him wince and shove you. “You’re so in love with me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he teases, flashing you his canines as the two of you lean closer to each other, faces inches apart as your childish squabbling continues. Sanemi snickers as you attempt to maintain your scowl but inevitably fail at the close proximity, turning into loud laughter when you slump over and rest your head on his chest.

As a Hashira, the Kakushi already know you, but recently have appeared in near fear of your presence (despite being aware of your empathetic personality). At one point, you explicitly ask why the change in treatment, to which they respond: “Shinazugawa-san isn’t forgiving if your uniform is anything but perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“As in washed, pressed and perfumed.”

You pause, shock evident in your expression. “Uh,” you almost break into laughter, “you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll… have a talk with him, make sure he’s not bullying you.”

The Kakushi give you a pointed look, to which you nod and purse your lips. You mumble, “well, he’s getting slapped.”

Sanemi always ensures that the menu provided to the cooks that cater to you suits your tastes. However, you’re highly concerned with the fact that Sanemi thinks anything is obtainable through an arbitrary expression of power, but you have the advantage of being able to discipline him for thinking such without consequence.

“The Kakushi help us, not serve us!”

“That’s a very liberal way of looking at it– ow!”Sanemi groans at the punches you land to his chest, making him double over and eventually lay down on the grass with no attempt of fighting back. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nicer.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[alieinthemorning]

Warmth That Cannot Be Frozen Over [Zayne]

Content: Established Relationship, Fluff, Myths: Tower of Secrets Spoilers, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Winter was your least favorite season. Despite how beautiful and whimsical things looked in your eyes, your body heavily disagreed with the world’s drastic change in temperature. You needed to be wrapped up, but you hated it because you would very quickly become uncomfortable. Even locking yourself indoors didn’t fully stave off the chill.

However, there was one good thing to come from the cold. 

“Zayne.” Your voice was soft, fingers brushing along his fringe.

He didn’t open his eyes, but you could see the small threatening to dance across his lips. “What is it?”

You sniffled, already feeling your nose begin it’s dripping song and dance. “Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

The ends of his mouth lifted more on one side. “Oh, I know.”

Before, when this relationship was new, you would have flushed at his words, shy to the implications, but now you didn’t feel the need to. After all, “It’s true. I love saying your name, Zayne.”

His eyes slid up open, “Is that why you dislike calling me by any nicknames?”

You shook your head, sitting up, and reaching for the box of tissue on the bedside table.

“No,” You answered after handling your runny nose. “It just…something about your name is special, and oddly nostalgic?” You smiled at him. “I don’t know, I’m sure this just sounds like odd rambling to you.”

“No, I understand fully.”

Although his expression gave nothing away, you could see the icy crystallization of his Evol creeping across his neck. 

“You shouldn’t be close to me right now.” He sighed, moving to get up. 

Although he was right, you pulled him back down with you. The shiver that wracked your body’s weak constitution was rough, but you refused to move. 

“My Evol is usually really helpful, but right now it can’t do anything.” You sniffed, “It can’t warm me up, it can’t calm down your Evol. It’s just…there.”

“Well, wouldn’t you rather it just be there than for it to be all over, and everywhere.”

You chuckled, sniffing again. “I’m sorry for all the snot, I’m about to get on you.”

He simply reached over and grabbed the box of tissues, then returned to relaxing in comfortable silence with you. 

Just as you were dozing off, you figured it out. A solution to your problems—something for the both of you to hold on to while you dreamed.

“It may be cold, but I have your love to keep me warm, Zayne.” You whispered into his chest, knowing that you reached his heart. “And you have mine.”

He closed his eyes…and reminisced in a dream that would not be remembered. How many times had you told him those words. How many more times must he hear it? Until he could truly break free from this curse, and save you.

Honestly, it doesn’t matter. No matter how long it takes, he will save you.

He will not forsake the vow he made to you on that icy throne.

Astra be damned.

Decided that this needed a rework, and yeah, I was right about how this went down. Man, these guys have it hard when it comes to loving you.

Anyway, I'm gonna work on the nsfw Zayne piece now because my god I was working under "I've hype people up, now I have to deliver", and I don't have to do that anymore lol

Y'all know where to find it.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[mockerycrow]

Sugar (Gaz x GN!Reader)

masterlist

Summary: You’re a civilian and you’re across the world from where Kyle is on a mission. It’s late at night when you get the phone call you’ve been waiting weeks for.

A/N: The title is from the song “Sugar - BROCKHAMPTON”. Gaz needs more stand-alone fics. I’m here to provide.

[WARNINGS: short fic, slight angst, fluff.]

It’s been quite a few months since you’ve last seen your boyfriend, Kyle Garrick. It’s to be expected as he’s in the military, but that doesn’t stop you from missing him any less. Goodbyes between you two always tended to be bittersweet—full of gentle kisses and whispers of “see you later”s even if they weren’t guaranteed to be true. You usually get a call or two whenever he’s on a mission if he can. You don’t exactly expect a call because you know he’s busy doing something important; of course you don’t get the details. All you know is that it’s important enough for all communication to be occasionally cut. Sometimes Kyle doesn’t even have his phone for weeks, so you sit there by your window sill, staring off into the night sky and praying that he’s okay.

Tonight, you lay in your bed in your underwear and a loose t-shirt—Kyle’s, of course—and you’ve tossing and turning all night. A light sheet matching your comforter lays across your legs and partially your stomach. It’s a luke-warm summer night and it brings such a nostalgic, yet sad feeling. On nights like these, you’d find yourself crawling into Kyle’s arms, his body radiating just enough heat to be comfortable. His sleepy, low voice would let out a cute little “hm?” when you press your head into the crook of his neck. You can hear his chuckle as he would rub a hand up and down your back soothingly, accepting all of your tiny habits. You can’t help but tear up at the memory. You never know when that memory will never be repeated again, right?

You glance over at Kyle’s side of the bed and you sniffle as you roll over onto his side, transferring your head from your warm pillow to his cold one—which you desperately wished was warm. You pull the sheet with you and you curl up on your side, glancing at the digital clock on his nightstand, it’s red letters blaring 3:49 am at you. You sigh and rest your head comfortably against his pillow again, listening to the natural silence of the house. You hear a creek of the foundation shifting every once in a while, the springs of the mattress every time you move yourself. Your hand drifts to your neck and grabs at the necklace—a gold chained necklace with a locket in the middle, a picture of you and Kyle with your dog that passed away about half a year ago. With Kyle gone, you wanted a companion to keep you company; but soon that one left this world, leaving you alone in a quiet house that only awakens when you do.

You can feel the exhaustion pulling at you, begging you to close your eyes and sleep for the night, but you force yourself to stay awake. ‘Just in case he calls,’ you try to justify it, but you haven’t gotten a call in a month, nearly a month and a half. Your heart burns every time you think about it as you can only come to one solution—one you know isn’t true because Kyle is strong, he’s resourceful, he has his teammates. Honestly, the only reason you know he isn’t dead is because Captain Price hasn’t come to your door to tell you.

You don’t originally notice that you’re falling asleep until your phone blaring a familiar ringtone wakes you up, your heart jumping out of your throat as you jolt. A startled noise leaves you as you breathe hard to gain your bearings and when you realize it—it’s Kyle’s ringtone—you immediately sit up and scramble back to your side of the bed, practically ripping the charger out of your phone and seeing Kyle<3 is calling… at the top of the screen. Without a second thought and with a wide smile on your face, you lay back onto the pillow and you swipe to answer the call you press the phone against your head and it’s like all of the weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

“Hey, sweetheart.. Did I wake you?”

You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief and shake your head, not caring that he can’t see it. “No,” You immediately say. “I was already awake.”

Kyle chuckles, murmuring, “Staying up for my call, I see?”

You return a quiet and soft laugh, turning your head to partially look out the window. “Maaaybe..” You pause for a moment, your smile faltering ever so slightly. “I miss you.” Kyle doesn’t miss a beat. “I miss you too, dove. More than anything.” You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks, your free hand coming up and clutching the locket. “How is it going? Your mission, I mean.” You borderline whisper, but you never have to ask. He always tells you what he can, but you just want to hear his voice instead of listening to old videos or voicemails for a change. Kyle hums excitedly, a slight crunch coming over the phone—he must be eating. “It’s been good! Price said we should be nearly done now. Last home stretch.”

You shuffle properly back onto your pillow, plugging your phone into the charger, and laying the phone on the bed. You click the speaker button and lay your head down. “You there, [Name]?” Kyle asks, nearly concerned.

“Mhm, just putting you on speaker..”

Kyle doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he does, his voice is damn near vulnerable. “You don’t know how excited I am to come home to you, sweetheart. It’s been a gruelin’ mission..”

You put your hand near your phone instinctively, as if you could comfort him physically through the phone. “I wish I could help you, Kyle.” You whisper softly into the phone, your heart tightening at the thought of his distress. He takes care of you in so many ways and you want to return the favor “You know what? When you come home, Kyle, give me a heads up. I’ll make us some dinner, we can play a bunch of games, anything you want. How about it?”

He laughs softly, like his ugly mood has been lightened. “Yeah? You wanna?”

“Of course I want to,” You answer without a doubt. “You work hard, Kyle. Too hard. We need to spend time together and you need to get taken care of. Two birds with one stone.”

You nearly think you can hear Kyle tearing up, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Okay.. Okay, dove. Yeah, we can do that.”

[romanoffsbish]

The Stuff of Nightmares

WandaNat x PregnantFem!Reader

Warning: Misguided Mama’s, Traumatized children… Mostly though, it’s a lil funny. | 1,526 Words

Book Referenced: Sylvester & The Magic Pebble

It had been plaguing your mind for a month now, on as to why your perfectly good sleepers suddenly sought out your comfort every night. They’d stopped doing that well before grade school, but ever since your wives started taking over their nightly routine so that you could rest up during your third trimester they’d been moving into your shared bed a lot.

At first you suspected it was some premature jealousy for the incoming infant, but just last night your daughter was softly sniffling, and when you asked why she stiffened, her eyes flickered between the faces of your sleeping wives, and suddenly she was just fine again. Her reaction was unsettling to say the least, so tonight you’d settled on doing some quiet investigating, which is why you find yourself stood in the hallway with your mouth agape.

—————————————

"The bombs were raining down as Viviana and Oleg frolicked through the town.," Wanda reads enthusiastically to your terrified looking children as they lay in their beds., "They jumped from one pile of ashes to the next to avoid the ground as it was 'lava' on the way to the bakery they hoped was still standing."

You cleared your throat from the doorway, and made your way over to put a stop to this clear madness at once. Both of your kids looked to you with eyes full of hope, which truly left you feeling quite horrible. The loves of your lives, who hadn't realized they were even in trouble were both beaming at the sight of you, and you felt a bit bad having to be crushing their spirits.

Then you noticed the book in Natasha’s hand, “The Wolf and It’s Prey,” the cover an obvious depiction of children being mauled by massive hairy beasts, and the feelings quickly faded., “Absolutely not; Natasha, Wanda, please might I have a word with you both in the hallway?,” the book was promptly snatched from your pouting wife’s hand, but they quickly obliged. Before meeting them you moved to tuck the kids in, kissed their foreheads, then promised to return with a less abrasive set of storytelling.

“What the fuck is this?,” you asked in a harsh whisper as you gently closed the door behind you and stared at yours lover a bit bewildered., “It’s my favorite childhood book, we didn’t have much to read in the Red Room, but this story brought me immense comfort.,” your face fell at the creepy admission., “Nat, these kids are clearly screaming, and being murdered.”

“Yeah, but the point of the story is to always listen to those in charge, so that you don’t break rules like they did and get eaten.,” you were honestly shocked that she thought the moral of the dark story would change your tune, as if there weren’t many books about the exact same principles that didn’t leave kids in tears, and eventually leading them to your bed., “Nat—honey, this isn’t comforting, like at all.”

Wanda was standing very still, hoping that you would be so focused on berating Natasha for her terrifying story you’d overlook hers., “And you.,” she winced when your finger wagged in her face., “What was that you were reading?”

“I-it is one of the books from my childhood that I recently found at that old timey bookstore up the street.,” your features softened upon hearing the vulnerability in your far more sensitive wives voice, and it was as if it all clicked., “My loves, I think I understand the sentiment here.,” your tone was a lot less accusatory this time, your hands gently reached out for theirs, you tugged them closer, and settled your joined hands on your bump, not missing the way they smiled at the action.

“These stories are nostalgic I’m sure, they represent to you a piece of your harsh history that you actually remember fondly.,” they nodded at your words., “Which is great, but what comforts you, actually terrifies our kids.”

“Have neither of you been the slightest bit curious why they’ve taken to sleeping with us again?,” you asked, this time with humor in your voice to lighten the darkened mood., “Well we don’t mind, it was actually nice to have them snuggled up to us again.,” Natasha admits, to which you smile in understanding., “Yeah, but you want them to do it because they miss us, not because they’re scared shitless.”

They chuckled at your deadpanned expression, then they shared a soft set of smirks that you always knew meant trouble for you. Natasha used her hold on your hand to abruptly pull you into her for a kiss that quickly left you breathless. Then as soon as you gasped upon release Wanda was pulling you in next., “Oh dorogoy, now what would we do without you?,” you ducked your head at their words, then lightly shoved them away for flustering you., “Probably live on to traumatize an entire generation.”

They cackled, and you smirked back at them while walking back into your kids room to collect them, figuring you might as well get ahead of their sneaking in. Natasha scooped little Sarah up into her arms as soon as you exited the room, the sight of the tired little girl, with her bunny stuffy tucked under her arm snuggling into your wife settled your heart.

Wanda did the same with Zachary, who giggled wildly when she blew a raspberry onto his exposed tummy as she lifted him up higher than necessary, but then she settled him when you glared at her for riling him up., “Mommy’s no fun.,” she whispered in his ear, making sure it was loud enough for you to hear, and your son giggled again while looking at you as if he had a chamber of secrets to uphold.

“Alright, off to bed! All of you.,” you boomed, and the collective brood rushed off to your room. As soon as you walked in Natasha’s hand was splayed over your lower back, guiding you to the mattress where Wanda already was laying on her side with the gremlins at her side. Wanda took the book from your hand, and Nat patiently helped you into the center of the bed.

Once you were all settled you began to read: “Sylvester and the Magic Pebble.,” your wives, and children gave you all their attention.

“Mama, look!,” Sarah gasped, and Nat shuffled to get a better look at the page., “A lion!,” your wife subtly glared at you, as if your lion eating a donkey was better than her wolves tearing children apart., “Yeah baby! What a scary beast he is.,” she mused tauntingly, shuffling a bit to avoid your knowing elbow jab to come.

“After a month of searching the same places over and over again, and inquiring of the same animals over and over again, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan no longer knew what to do.,” you read, an air of sadness in your tone to convey the emotions to your children, not missing the way your wives were also hanging off of every word., “They tried their best to be happy, to go about their usual ways.”

“Mommy…,” your son sniffled, you dropped the open book on your chest to look to him., “Would you guys be okay if I was a rock?,” the wobble of his lip broke your heart, but you were able to muster up a loving smile., “Of course not honey, we’d miss you so much.,” Wanda’s arms tightened around the both of your kids for emphasis., “Our precious babies, don’t worry, I’m sure Sylvester will be okay.,” Natasha looked to you for needed reassurance, to which you winked, and went on reading.

Natasha’s hands clutched your shoulder as the climax of the story was building., “He was stone-dumb.,” the redhead then groaned., “Oh god, that’s so corny.,” you chuckled then continued on reading about the reunification.

"I have the strangest feeling that our dear Sylvester is still alive and not far away."

“He is! He is!,” the entire bed shouted in unison, and you smirked at their enthusiasm., “I am! I am!,” you read out right after, and all the bodies on the bed shifted closer to you. Cheers erupted as you flipped the page to show that Sylvester’s wish had finally come true, he was a donkey once again, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the bed as you flipped to them all cuddled up together on the couch.

“That was such a good story mommy.,” Sarah said over a yawn, her face falling into a tired smile as you helped her shift over you, and in between you and Natasha’s body., “Yeah, I loved it.,” Zach added over his own yawn, his tiny arm now thrown over your belly, and his snores soon followed his shifting.

“Moya lyubov’, I hate to admit it, but you’re right, that was a good story, and it didn’t even need the mauling.,” the redhead quietly teased as she leaned over your sleeping daughter to kiss Wanda, and you goodnight, “Or the bombs.,” Wanda added as she pecked your lips, and you playfully scoffed., “You are menaces.”

—————————————

[applejuicefruit]

dusan request? either taking him to the airport before international break or going to his game and seeing him again?

decided to make this with reader taking him at the airport but i made it a little bit sad

dusan vlahovic x reader

Don’t leave

The tension in the car was pretty evident. No one would dare to speak or make a joke. Your mother in the backseat alongside with your best friend while you were all driving Dusan to the airport. He was sat on the passenger seat next to you while you were driving. Your look never leaving the road, not even when Dusan tried to talk to you or approach you.

You weren’t mad, not at all. You were just a very nostalgic person and you couldn’t handle very well your emotions, so everything came crushing down when Dusan told you he had a week off from Torino because he had to go back to Serbia for international break and you couldn’t go with him.

You didn’t handle it good at first but he tried to reassure you he would be back in just a week.

So now you were driving him because you wanted to be the last person to wave him goodbye before he departed, your mom and best friend were only your emotional support, in case you needed one, or two.

“And…we’re here” your best friend said while you parked. She definitely didn’t miss the death glare you gave her from the mirror.

“Why don’t you go first honey?” your mom suggested, knowing you needed this time with Dusan.

“Sure…” you whispered, already trying to not break in front of everyone.

You and Dusan went straight into the airport, some of his teammates were already there, others were a little bit late but it didn’t matter when you have a plane just for yourself right?

“Baby can you look at me?” Dusan gently grabbed your wrist, trying to stop you from going into useless shops.

Your eyes never met his look, otherwise you would be a crying mess.

“You know I’ll be gone for just a week right? I’ll be back home as soon as possible” he tried to reassure you. He knew you were sensitive over this topic, the feeling of being alone without him made you shiver. Dusan knew how nostalgic you were and he didn’t want to see you cry for him.

“I know but I’ll miss you…” you said, your voice cracking a bit while a few tears fell from your eyes but Dusan was quick to wipe them away.

“Don’t cry baby…” he hugged you so tight you cried into his shoulder. He hated seeing you cry.

“I can’t help it, I’m gonna miss you so much Dusan” you whispered and his heart broke a little.

“I promise you, this week gonna pass so fast you won’t even notice I’ll be gone, I promise you my love…don’t cry okay? I don’t want to see you cry baby…” he said lifting your chin up and gently kissing your lips.

You melted into the kiss, while his hands were on your waist, keeping you close.

“Don’t leave…” you whispered and he smiled a bit at your cuteness.

“I’m not going on Mars baby…next week I’ll be back in Torino, I promise you…” he said kissing your forehead.

“Okay” you sniffled.

“I really have to go now baby…” he said, his heart feeling heavy as he watched your sad look.

“I know, I’m gonna miss you a lot Dudu” you called him by nickname.

“I’m gonna miss you too principessa…I love you” he said while kissing you again.

“Ti amo…” you whispered in italian and he softly smiled at you.

He waved you goodbye while he was going back to his teammates.

You sat there, at the airport, watching his plane leaving, watching Dusan leaving, knowing he’ll be safe back in Serbia and he’ll be having a lot of fun with his teammates, knowing that he’ll call you once he lands and that he’ll call you every day after practice.

You just loved him so much and the thought of him leaving you for even just a few days made you sad.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

It had been two weeks since it was all over. They’d spent the majority of their time in Kakariko Village. Impa had been gentle and fastidious in her care of the princess, and Link felt a little out of place at the sight of it – the two remembered each other, remembered everything of the past. Impa could tell Zelda of what had happened since, and Zelda could be nostalgic with Impa. Link could really offer neither, he supposed, though he’d seen more of Hyrule nowadays than Impa had.

Despite all of this, though, both Link and Zelda struggled. Link spent his spare time sparring or traveling the area, resting in Hateno, helping the villagers in both places. Zelda just… rested. After two weeks, even Impa was showing signs of uncertainty and worry. Link didn’t know what to do.

The swordsman sighed as he kicked a pebble into a pond, watching a frog hop away. He had so little understanding of the past, he felt useless to help. But at the same time, he just felt useless, period. His entire purpose and life mission when he’d woken up, the main goal he’d built his entire identity around, was over. Zelda spent a hundred years holding the Calamity at bay and now it was over.

It was over.

And they were both left with… they didn’t even know.

Maybe that was the issue, then. Neither knew what to do now. Neither knew how to move forward after they’d spent so long being stuck in the past.

Well, Link wasn’t quite stuck in the past. He couldn’t remember it. Maybe that was why it still seemed to hold him hostage. Either way, the wounds of the Calamity were everywhere, whether it was remembered or not.

Link stared at his reflection in the water. Now what?

He sighed, falling into a seated position in front of the pond. The frog from earlier landed on a lily pad. He watched it aimlessly, mind restless and heart hurting. As he watched it, the world seemed to fade around him, his body growing light, and he recognized the feeling, the sensation, and his eyes widened a hair – he… hadn’t had new memories trying to resurface since the Calamity had been defeated.

Link took a small, shaky breath, letting his mind go where it wanted to, drifting into the past.

He’s home. The lighting is a little dim since it’s raining. There are sniffles by the stairway, and he feels the need to go to them, but whispers to his left catch his attention.

“Til, this is ridiculous. A funeral for a frog? Really?”

“Honey, she loved that frog!”

“She saw it for maybe a few weeks, didn’t she?”

“Yes, and she loved it! She even named it.”

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re proposing we hold a funeral. For a frog that lived by the pond for a few weeks. Because Lyra is upset that it died.”

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing,” his mother replies.

“Til, everything dies, if we held a funeral for every single thing we’d be mourning our entire lives.”

“This isn’t about mourning, Abel,” his mother argues. “It’s about learning to close a chapter of your life and move forward. She’s young, this is a good way for her to learn this.”

His father watches her skeptically and then sighs again. “Very well.”

His mother smiles and nods, heading towards the stairs and kneeling, blocking someone from view as she speaks softly. His father approaches him, and he stands a little straighter, eyes watching him with unspoken curiosity.

“Well,” his father huffs. “I suppose we should put on our formal attire for this, seeing as it’s an important affair.”

He catches himself midway into smiling, unsure if this is an actual joke or a grumble, but the wink he gets from his father make shim relax. He nods and the pair go their separate ways, and the world fades and spins dizzyingly for a moment before he finds himself standing outside. He and his father are dressed in colorful regalia, a hat keeping his head warm in the damp air. His mother is wearing dark, somber clothes, and he sees a little girl—his sister—holding a candle in front of the pond. He can’t hear the words being spoken, or even tell if there are words being spoken, but somehow, he feels… at peace.

Link gasped, startled as he opened his eyes, cheeks chilled by tear tracks that had half dried. For a moment he just sat there, processing what he’d just seen. That was—he’d seen his—

He shook his head. Somehow… that felt…

He glanced up at the sky and looked beyond it, his heart racing, and he struggled to catch his breath before looking back down at the pond.

Grief over a family he didn’t know anymore welled up inside him, but the lesson they’d taught him burned even more. He rose, taking a steadying breath, clenching his fists and closing his eyes as the tears fell.

He knew what they needed to do.

The next day, Link and Zelda stood at Fort Hateno, flowers in the princess’ hands, Link dressed in his freshly cleaned champion garb. The pair looked out over the field and all its wreckage.

Zelda took a shaky breath, and stepped forward, as if she were getting ready to address a crowd of people, as if the dead were all standing there waiting. Link felt as if they were, he felt the gravity of the situation sitting heavily on his shoulders.

At the same time, though, he felt… good. This felt right. And he…

The images of his memory came unbidden, of faces he barely knew in his mind but knew in his heart.

They’d lost so many.

“Calamity Ganon… is gone,” Zelda said, her voice thick but growing stronger. “The plague that destroyed our land is no more. So you… you all can rest. We thank you for your sacrifices, we mourn you for your loss, we beg for forgiveness that it… that it took this long.”

Link stepped forward, his shoulder brushing hers. When she glanced at him, he offered a smile. No more regrets, Zelda. This isn’t about that.

Zelda seemed to read that in his expression, and she nodded, closing her eyes.

“It’s over,” she whispered, kneeling and placing flowers by a stone they’d found and decided to use for the occasion. “It’s over.”

And for the first time in two weeks, Zelda cried. And for the first time in his living memory, Link cried.

And as the sun set and their tears dried, they smiled, and moved on together.

[sweetwildsyle]

Remember Me

Darkstache

— A drabble in which nostalgic discussions are had after a meltdown.

‘I just… Can you tell me what to do?’

The request was simple. It always was. The moment was always quiet and lovely where Wilford could turn off for a bit and trusttrusttrust in their voice and instructions. Wil would fall apart to Dark who would take care of him and give him a period where he didn’t have to think at all. Calm and quiet, no headaches.

That was until Wilford started crying.

Dark’s mouth parted as stupor struck them. The moment of being flabbergasted undid itself as Dark frantically changed their positions to give Wil space. PLEASE, DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE. The grey being flinched as Wilford’s voice bombarded their mind. Their husband curled up with his eyes screwed shut, blackening hands grasping at his head, and he rolled to be on his side and incidentally faced away from Dark. I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE AGAIN, PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Controlling their breathing, Dark cautiously brought themself to spoon the other who gasped after thoughtlessly holding his breath, and they pulled him as closely and tightly as they could. Dark ignored how his spine was trying to swell, how his skin tried to harden with ink, how protrusions tried to grow on his head — how his own body was working against him to try to grow.

A broken sob choked from Wil. HURTS.

“I know, Wil. You need to pick.”

HURTS, HELP, his voice boomed out to anyone who would hear. Dark winced again before their body seized briefly as Wil began clawing at their arms, and, on their skin, they felt warmth in rivulets that pulled down with gravity.

Dark forcefully breathed, pushing away the pain. “Wil, you need to keep it or get rid of it,” they spoke slowly to mask their straining, already knowing which option would be chosen. A whimper whined out and bounced off the walls with too loud of a volume.

“Please, Wil, you’re hurting me.”

The entire house shook, and all the lights flashed on before turning off with a crack, some lightbulbs exploding. Dark had to bite their tongue as they pulled closer, letting Wil’s weight dig against their chest full of broken ribs to ride out the earthquake.

Their husband panted, weak noises sounding with every exhale, and Dark let out a shaky sigh as they loosened their grip. With gritted teeth, they forced themself to sit up, one hand on Wil’s side as support and ignoring the burns on their chest and arms and now one hand. “I’m going to get up, Wil.” They waited for a signal and received a pathetic noise from his throat. Dark mustered themself before incanting softly and tracing a shape on their thigh. Wilford coiled smaller with restraint during the casting, the laboured breathing resuming once Dark was hovering an inch above the bed.

They grabbed at the blanket to pull themself to the side weightlessly with the levitation. Their eyes flitted to the phone that had been lighting up ever since the power outage — but that could wait. Dark pulled a small notebook and pen from the nightstand before floating to Wilford’s bedside. His soft sniffling accompanied the pen’s scratching at the paper quietly as they filled out the basics of his changes for this time. They had to ignore how their skin buzzed with too much heat when Dark brought their hand to his face to rub his cheek. “I need you to open your eyes, Wilford.” Their husband swallowed thickly before four eyes full of pink opened full of tears.

“You’re bleeding,” whispered Wilford, and Dark had to pause at the words because they knew it wasn’t English.

“I know.”

“I hurt you?”

“We can worry about it after we finish cataloguing,” Dark promised, feeling too conscious of their arms now.

“You look different.”

“I used thauma to get out of bed; you know that.”

“Different than that,” Wil continued, the eyes blinking together, “like a fountain. Or a brook.”

“A river; isn’t that funny? You may be seeing differently because your eyes are different again.” Dark reached over to brush a thumb over his lips and tapped there. Wil obediently opened his mouth that glowed pink from within. They set the book and pen down to the side to take Wil’s hands that were darker than the shadows of the room, an iridescent black.

They paused when they noticed the ring was gone from his left, and, as always, they passed over the scar texture on his right. “Why do you keep this…?”

“It’s all that I have left from me… him,” Wilford admitted, exiting that universal speech to speak English once more.

Dark took the moment to hold Wil’s right hand and guide it towards themself. Their lips dried as they gingerly kissed his hot palm and then his fingers and then his knuckles.

“I don’t know how you can stand me when I cost you everything.”

Dark paused, eyes closing. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. I’m not them. You know that.”

“You kept their name.”

“I know.”

“Did I tell you I was supposed to kill the both of them?”

“You told me about Damien.”

“I was meant to kill Celine, too.”

“But you didn’t.”

Wilford let out a puff of breath, and then his eyes fluttered shut when Dark began going through his hair. “I did, in a way.”

Dark held their tongue, wanting to argue that it wasn’t him, that he wasn’t it. But he was, and they knew that.

“I’m here now,” Dark murmured, and Wilford began to sob again.

“I’m not trying to compare–”

“I know.”

“I miss him.”

Dark’s heart panged, a lump forming in their throat since they knew that he wasn’t talking about Damien. The trickling blood on their arms felt so loud. “I know.”

[teaberrii]

Chapter Twenty-Six: The President's Delinquent (END)

You and Cyno can’t be more different. He’s Akademiya’s perfect student council president. You’re a labelled, cursed delinquent who changes into a cat for eight hours when kissed.

When Cyno gets a complaint about you, he’s forced to take action, only for it to lead to unexpected circumstances.

Cyno/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Two months later

“Congratulations!”

You'd invited Cyno inside after he drove you home from a date that evening. The last thing he's expecting is to be greeted by the sound of party poppers going off and his friends gathered at the front entrance. You also look just as surprised.

It's a week before graduation, and the best news Cyno has ever gotten throughout his entire student career at Akademiya is that you and he will be going to Liyue… together. Cyno learned about his accepted application first; you were among the first people to know.

You also got your acceptance letter into Liyue's graduate program a few days later. When you gave him the tightest back hug of his life the day at school, Cyno worried that something had happened. But his worries immediately vanished when he turned around and saw your large smile.

“I’m surprised you managed to keep this a secret,” you say to Rahman when everyone is together with drinks in the living room. Everyone has wine, while Nahida and Jebrael’s son has orange juice.

“Well, I can’t have everyone’s efforts go to waste!”

“Okay, okay,” Candace says, raising a glass, and everyone else does the same. “Here’s to Cyno and Catnip on their next chapter in life together!”

“You make it sound like they’re getting married,” Tighnari laughs.

“I have one.” Everyone turns to you as you clear your throat. “Here’s to the good news that everyone got in recent weeks! Tighnari, on his acceptance into Sumeru’s graduate forestry program. Candace, on her new job in the Sumeru government. Professor Alhaitham, on his promotion. Kaveh, on his new job as a lead architect!”

"How come Haitham always gets Professor before his name, and I only get—"

Nahida lifts her glass higher. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Kaveh raises his glass with a deadpan look but drinks his wine regardless.

Soon, the room is filled with laughter, conversation, and squeals and screams.

“Hey.”

Cyno turns around and sees Nilou. “Hey.”

Over the last two months, Cyno and Nilou have slowly repaired their friendship, and he's glad they are finally back on good terms. No more hard feelings. No more awkwardness.

“What are you doing standing here all alone? You should be celebrating! Or… is something wrong?”

“I guess I can relate to how you felt when you decided to leave Sumeru.”

“Ah…” Nilou chuckles. “Are you feeling nostalgic already?” She nudges him. “You have it better, at least. Catnip is coming with you.”

“I’m thankful she is. But there’s also everyone else.”

“Well, we can’t have everything we want in life.” Cyno looks past Nilou, and she turns around to see Tighnari. “If I could have everything my way, all of us would be together forever!”

“Cliché.”

“I think we’d get tired of each other pretty fast,” Candace says.

“Geez, we’re supposed to be celebrating!” Kaveh sighs.

“I have an idea.”

No one would’ve thought Alhaitham would be the one to suggest a game of Twister.

“Get your ass out of my face!”

“Ow! You’re stepping on me, Tighnari!”

“Ack! I can’t! I can’t!”

Cyno's glad he dropped out of the game early. Now, it's a battle between Nahida, Candace, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Jebrael's son. Each of them looks determined to win. Cyno looks around. It's been a while since you left for the washroom. What's keeping you? So, he steps out.

“If you need anything… anything at all, don’t hesitate to call us.”

Rahman's voice makes Cyno look around the corner, and he sees you, Rahman, and Jebrael in the garden.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you so emotional,” you say.

Rahman sniffles. “It’s just… you’ve always been with us! Like… without you… it’s like a part of us is gone.”

“You’re taking it too far, Rahman,” Jebrael says. “Ojou will be fine.”

“Well, I know that! But… it’s always been the three of us!”

Cyno suddenly remembers what Nahida said a few months ago: It’s always been the two of us! He’s about to walk away when he hears Rahman say, “Well, at least you’ll be in good hands. The kid will look after you.”

Jebrael turns to Rahman. “That doesn’t mean she should rely on him.”

That’s when Rahman sees Cyno. “Hey, kid!”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Cyno says, coming out from behind the corner.

“You were probably looking for Ojou, huh?” Rahman asks with a grin.

"She was gone for a while."

“It’s going to be her first time away from home for so long,” Jebrael says to Cyno.

“I’ll look after her,” Cyno says seriously.

You gently nudge him. “Don’t you mean we’ll look after each other?”

Rahman suddenly takes out a list and hands it to Cyno. "If she gets sick, we found that these usually help. Oh! And…"

Cyno listens intently as Rahman and occasionally Jebrael chimes in with taking care of you and the like. Now that Cyno thinks about it, who are Rahman and Jebrael? As in... what's their connection to you? Your relationship with them is like family, but Cyno doesn't think you're blood-related. You've also never mentioned it either.

“Hey, kid?” Cyno turns to Rahman. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

Would it be rude to ask? 

“I was just thinking”—he looks from you to Rahman and Jebrael—“how did the three of you meet?”

“Ah…” Rahman smiles. “Yeah, not surprised that you're curious. Well, to start… we aren’t related by blood.”

“But our families are connected,” Jebrael says. “Her family is the leader of the Eremites, and we work under them.”

“Our families were quite close,” you also add. You glance at them, and they nod. “Their parents died young… so my family took them in and raised them like their own. I wasn’t even born yet.”

“I see,” Cyno says. “No wonder you’re so close.”

“When we found out her parents were pregnant with a girl, it was like we were getting a little sister!” Rahman says. “But… I was hoping for a boy.”

“Rude,” you say jokingly.

“What are you four doing out here?” Your grandmother appears from behind the corner. “You shouldn’t be missing out on your celebration.”

"Ah, well, we were just talking…." Rahman says.

Your grandmother has a bag in her hands, and Jebrael takes it from her. "I bought you some things to take with you," she says. Then, her eyes land on Cyno. "I'm glad you'll have each other. It'll make things a little easier while abroad."

You hug your grandmother, and she immediately returns the gesture. “You’re taking a big step forward, child,” she continues, gently patting your back. “You’re finally stepping out on your own and going to have the life you always wanted.”

“This was the life I’ve always wanted,” you say. “Being with you… Rahman… Jebrael… Going to Liyue is just another chapter.”

Rahman sniffles. “I… I think I need a tissue.”

"No, you don't," Jebrael deadpans.

“Hey!” Nahida peeks around the corner. “There you guys are! Are you coming to eat or not?”

“Oh! Y’all better have saved me some chicken legs,” Rahman says, following Nahida back inside the house.

“You better join them before they eat everything,” your grandmother says.

You take Cyno’s hand and walk back inside to overlapping conversations, laughter, and smiles.

After all the craziness, Cyno couldn't be more thankful that he's starting a new beginning with one of the most important people in his life. Liyue will be another challenge, but if you and he can handle Scaramouche, it feels like you can handle anything. Also, Cyno hasn't told you yet... but no matter where you go or who you become, you will always be his delinquent.

…

…

…

The door opens, and Scaramouche walks inside the dreary-looking room.

"You have five minutes," the officer says. Then, he slams the door.

Scaramouche sits in the chair and lazily looks at the ginger before him.

"Orange is really not your colour, Balladeer," he says with a slight smirk.

“Get to the point, Tartaglia,” Scaramouche says. “Don’t tell me you came just for a fucking visit.”

Tartaglia laughs and leans back. “So much for getting rid of the girl. Your plan failed miserably." Scaramouche glares at him. "I'm sure you already know she and her little boy toy are heading to Liyue."

“And?”

“Those two will be on my turf now. You should know what that means.” Tartaglia leans forward. “It’s time to get rid of them once and for all.”

“She’s not worth the time anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you developed a soft spot for her.”

“If you kill her, they’ll come after you. You will have accomplished nothing but become their most wanted person.”

“I’m not talking about just the girl,” Tartaglia says. “I don’t know what kind of grudge or beef you had with her, but I’m looking at the bigger picture… I’m talking about her entire family.” He smiles coldly. “They are a disgrace. It’s time for a new era of delinquents.”

Scaramouche gives Tartaglia one last look. “It’s not that easy.”

“You underestimate me.”

The door swings open, and the same police officer walks in. "Time's up."

Scaramouche stands as the ginger says, "It's time for freedom, Balladeer."

Just before the door closes, Scaramouche turns around. "I guess I'm counting on you for once, Tartaglia. Don't let me down."

Something about that small, wicked smile on the ginger's face tells Scaramouche that everything will go according to plan.

End notes:

Did I really just end this on a cliffhanger... Yes, yes, I did. XD...

Also, I'm running a poll on what I should write next. Take a look if you are interested :)

Some fun facts about this story:

1) This was originally a Xiao/Reader. I thought about making Xiao the delinquent and the cat while you're the school president. But, I thought that was too typical. Somewhere along the way, I thought Cyno would be a better fit, and eventually, it became a decision on who to make the cat, the delinquent, and the school president.

2) You and Cyno's careers/characters are loosely inspired by the characters in Gokusen, a Japanese drama. Except, the female lead in that show is already a high school teacher, and the male lead is her student.

3) Nilou was supposed to be Collei. I originally had you rejecting Cyno's confession and having Collei come in as an old friend/junior who Tighnari, Candace, and Cyno used to mentor. But, I thought you rejecting Cyno didn't really have a point. So, it turned into a bonding moment with Rahman and Jebrael instead.

Thank you to those who stuck around until the very end! Y'all are amazing <3

Tag list: @lxry-chxn @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @iwishitwas @sketcheeee @thetwinkims @ch0c0shortiie @sakiimeo @ashtree-and-the-cats @whorerificstuff @chaimkko @bennytheghost @riylvx

[mymegumi]

u know my name lol n a jjk male pls,,, my fav thing abt the holidays is when it’s not too cold out (like a good 20-30°f) and ur in the city w the christmas markets at night n the streets are lit up w all of the christmas lights 🤭 it’s so homey n nostalgic + w christmas music playing on the speakers,,, u also know everything abt me but to help a lil for ahem *standard info purposes* i think my main personality traits r empathy, independence, n charisma,,, i like banter n teasing in a relationship + lots of physical touch/quality time,,, n i like feeling secure n spoiled by my man 🫡

i in fact do kno u dovie :o but it would be weird as hell if u didnt send any info lmfaooo. but thank u for participating sissy, for this wintery matchup up, i match you with:

NANAMI KENTO !

i can alr hear u saying he’s boring but! if you just lemme explain!!!!!!!! nanami kento is so so good to you. he lets you have your independence and lets you have your own space while also enjoying the fact that when you do reach out, it’s for him! he’s a bit more sarcastic/dry humor type and ik u like to talk and joke, so i feel like y’all would have such a funny like back and forth w his dry humor n ur humor!!! plus, he was an office worker so yak this man has a 401k! he’s gonna make sure you’re well taken care of and spoil tf outta you cause he loves you. trip to paris? he got u covered. need money for clothes? girl, take his card. he is so so so stingy w himself but ‘cause you’re his, he’ll spoil u so bad. this man would fs take u to the christmas markets as soon as he notices you looking at them in the car going anywhere, and it’s snowing out and the music is so soft and fuzzy and it’s just such a vibe. he buys you hot coco to keep your hands warm but also holds your hand to keep it warm. nanami is just … he’d be so good!!! i feel like he would just be such a good match personality wise for you.

RUNNER UPS: ⠀ෆ geto suguru ⠀ ⠀ ⤿ ok so like idk if he’d be able to spoil u but! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀he’d try his best n it’s the thought that ⠀ ⠀ ⠀counts? ⠀ෆ gojo satoru ⠀ ⠀ ⤿ if u want quippy banter, dis man has u ⠀ ⠀ ⠀covered fs!

“are you warm enough?” he asks, glancing over at you and your cute little outfit that you’d chosen for walking the night market. while very visually appealing, he also knew that it was thin in layers and he was concerned that you’d catch a cold or something. “i can buy you a scarf.”

your laugh is just another sound to mix into the bustle that is the christmas market, but it makes his chest lift as he hears it. he loves your laugh. “i’m alright, kento, thank you. it’s not really that cold out.”

your reddening cheeks and sniffling would say otherwise, but he also knows that if you really truly needed help, you would ask him. he’s content to wind an arm around you to provide an extra bit of warmth and relishes the feeling of you resting your head against him. “if you say so. are you enjoying yourself?”

you nod fervently, pointing to the giant tree in the middle of the little square that’s decorated in big red bows, bright lights and shiny ornaments. “can you take my picture in front of the tree?”

watching you run towards the tree, avoiding people walking by, he pulls out his phone and snaps a few candid photos, wanting to preserve this memory as much as he can. your figure in the camera turns and he smiles at the little pose you make.

back to event masterlist

[crazybagelbitch]

SORRY I FORGOT TO GIVE A PROMPT!! I’m clinically stupid. But for Hotch and Garcia as father/daughter platonic duo; “You came?” “You called” is my favourite prompt ever. Maybe Hotch rescues Garcia from an awful date or from Strauss’ wrath over something garcia definitely did but does not deserve punishment for

Penelope knows this is stupid. She knows that she could probably handle this herself and not have to interrupt her sleeping boss with this nonsense. Derek would normally be the first person she would call in a situation like this, but while they'll always be close friends with a deep adoration for another, it's different now that he's left the team and he has a new baby. He needs some space, and as much as she hates it, she has to respect it.

She could call JJ or Emily and they would come in a heartbeat. They're two kickass women who she knows would do anything for her, but something about it doesn't feel right. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, there's a certain comfort she needs at the moment and only one person, at least one person who is still alive, can give her that.

Wincing, she pulls up his contact and hits dial.

It's 3 am but she knows they all sleep with their ringers up high, a consequence of the job they work.

"Garcia?" he picks up after a few rings, sounding somehow both sleepy and 100% alert, "What's wrong? Do we have another case?"

There was a time when his second question would only ever be directed at JJ and not her, and it makes her feel sad and happy and proud and nostalgic all at once.

"N-No," she whimpers, "No, I'm sorry it's much less important than that. I shouldn't have e-even called you, I'm sure it'll be fine. Go back to sleep. Goodnight, sir!"

"Garcia."

It's not just her name, it's a command.

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"I-I lost him, but I was walking home from a bar and this drunk guy was following me. I ran him off b-but I uh, I was running in heels and now I slipped and my ankle is-- well, it's not broken but it hurts and could you please come and get me?"

She's met with silence for a long moment and is worried she's going to get told no and to handle things herself like a big girl, but then she hears movement and shoes being put on in the background and her heart swells with gratitude.

"Where are you? Drop me a pin. Are you laying on the ground somewhere?"

"Sitting on a bench," she mumbles pitifully, sending him her location, "I really am so sorry, sir."

"Stop apologizing. I'll be there in ten; stay on the line."

On instinct, as a woman alone in the dark of night, she feels scared when she sees a car approaching, before the car gets close enough that she recognizes it.

"You came!" she exclaims in relief when he opens up his car door, rushing over to her.

"You called," he says simply, gently probing her ankle, "Garcia, I know I may be incredibly rough around the edges at times, but you have to know I would never leave you hurt and alone in the middle of the night."

"Where's Jack?" she sniffles, overcome with a mix of several emotions and the physical pain of Hotch touching her sprained ankle.

"He's still with Jessica, and even if he hadn't been, I would have still come to get you. He's still at the age where he'd forgive me for anything, even a 3 am field trip, if I bribed him with McDonalds."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you called," he says with a nod, "I don't think it's broken, either. You still should get it looked at by a doctor, but that can wait until it's a decent hour of day. Come on, I'll help you up."

"You're my hero, sir."

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

heyy ari!!

I just came back from a mitski concert and the opener tamino has this song called my dearest friend and enemy and it's so satosugu coded 💔

there were a few lines that just hit me, it's so stsg and I was like damn 😞 shit hit too close to home

you're my dearest friend and enemy

you belong with me

like young love belongs to spring

now don't tell me that I'm wrong again

hearing this song in person was life changing tbh, his voice is so beautiful like 😫 tearing up just thinking about it, would do anything to see him live again

anyways 😁 wanted to hear your thoughts about the song!!

- anon 😼

OHHH LOVELY LOVELY ANON………. YOUR MIND……. i just took a listen to the song :(((( sniffle. did u come here just to ruin my day.

no but IT’S SOOO GOOD SO LOVELY and i see ur vision so clearly ??? this is literally stsg’s anthem LIKEEEE?????? i’m abt to get into the lyrics in just a second but THE INSTRUMENTAL????? i can literally see the stsg edits in my brain it really does feel like such a bittersweet nostalgic spring song…

doesn’t matter now // stop the tears welling in your eyes // you’re breaking up the sky // like a widow's broken vow

here goes everything // you’re my dearest friend and enemy // you belong with me // like young love belongs to spring // now don't tell me that i’m wrong again

is your faith restored? // now that every heaven's out of reach // thunder on the beach // where you once would ask for more

don’t just look away // let me know for once what's on your mind // leave some truth behind // if we go our separate ways // before i step into darker days

the way i’m literally fucking spiralling rn YOU BELONG WITH ME LIKE YOUNG LOVE BELONGS TO SPRING ?????? ”thunder on the beach where you once would ask for more”… their okinawa trip :(… “leave some truth behind”…. geto showing his honest feelings right before he dies…….. :((( ”before i step into darker days” WHAT IF I CRIED AND THREW UP 😔😔😔😔 anon u have ruined my whole week this is so Them it makes me so sad..

tbh just the title… is so unbelievably stsg….. my dearest friend. my dearest enemy. the fact that satoru was always doomed to kill suguru…. suguru was always doomed to wage war on satoru……. but above all else they were each other’s dearest friend until the very end T_T………. i hate them sm why cant i be happy </3

[rxin3akamallory]

(So I wrote this as soon as I thought about Rocket and Lylla reuniting in Vol. 3 again. I thought, what if Magril had a similar experience? This takes place before the films, only a couple years after Magril escapes Halfworld and becomes a ravager.

Read this post for more context.

And PLEASE keep the TWs in mind before reading, ty ♡)

TW: Implied Attempted

Su!c!d3/S3lf H@rm

Hotline Numbers:

USA: 988

Canada: (833) 456-4566

Other regins

White took over Magril’s vision when she woke up. She couldn’t quite pinpoint where exactly she was, but the surrounding cages made the place feel.. familiar? But Magril’s environment wasn’t the only thing that made this situation strangely nostalgic to her. In the distance she could hear two voices laughing. One was high pitched and one was deep and gentle.

Magril: Those voices..

Before Magril could process who the voices belonged to, she could hear someone approaching from behind. She turns around, a brown female otter who was slightly taller than her and sporting two mechanical arms slowly walked her way.

Lylla: Friend… What are you doing here?

Magril: *gasp* Ly.. Lylla..?

Lylla gave Magril the same kind and warm smile she’d always have. Although, it fades when she notices the wounds that harshly ran across Magril’s arms.

Lylla: My dear friend, what’s happened?

Magril: *sniffle* I’m.. still a friend to you?

Lylla: Of course you’re my friend, Magril.

Magril: B-But, that night! I-I.. *choke* I said horrible things to you. I was so selfish! *sniffle* Why would you possibly want a friend like me?

Lylla: Selfish doesn’t always mean bad. Selfless and selfish are balanced. You were scared, that isn’t selfish. We all experience fear.

Magril: Yeah, and look where mine’s gotten you.

Lylla: Magril… Why are we here? What drove you to do this to yourself?

Magril: I couldn’t bring myself to tell you what was going on. If I had just said something… I’d be here right now instead of you.

Lylla: Magril, that’s already done. You can’t do anything to change what happened to us. But you can change what happens to you.

Magril: Why should I? There’s no reason a coward like me should stay. Why spare me? What did I do other than lead you to your graves!? You, *choke* and Floor, and Teefs, *sniffle* and Rocket…

As she named each of her friends, she realized one was missing. Rocket. The raccoon who shared a cage with Floor.

Magril: Wait.. Where’s Rocket?

Lylla’s smile returns once Magril puts two and two together.

Magril: Wait.. did he..?

Lylla’s nod was the only answer Magril needed. Relief washed over her features. Rocket survived, he’s alive and still out there.

Lylla: I know you see no reason to keep going, but you still have a purpose here. Don’t give up yet.

Lylla gently embraced Magril, who started to cry again.

Magril: *sniffle* I’m sorry, Lylla..

Lylla only shook her head in response.

Lylla: You can do it. You’re so strong, much stronger than you realize. I know you’ll make it through this. And then one day, you and Rocket can come flying with us.

Tears form in Magril’s eyes.

Magril: Into the forever and beautiful sky…

Magril suddenly feels herself falling then a split second later she finds herself in the med bay onboard the ravager ship. Kraglin and Quill were over her, tears staining their faces.

Quill: Magril? Magril!

Kraglin: Magril! Thank god!

Magril: Nrgh.. Guys..?

The two pull Magril into a hug as she was still trying to process what just happened.

Kraglin: Are you okay!? We found you bleeding!

Quill: There was a knife next to you and we thought someone attacked you!

Kraglin: And you didn’t have a pulse for around ten minutes, we were worried sick!

Magril’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. The amount of pain she put her own brothers through broke her heart. She tightly embraced them as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Magril: *sobs* I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. *choke* I’m so sorry. *sniffle* I love you so much, I’m so sorry.

Quill: It’s okay. We love you too, Magril.

Kraglin: We’re just glad you’re okay.

♡

Here are the numbers again if you wish to seek help.

USA: 988

Canada: (833) 456-4566

Other regions

If no one has reminded you, then I will. You are loved, you are wanted, NEEDED. And most importantly, you matter. ♡

☆彡 @raccoonfallsharder | @twigglestblog | @bakaotakulife

[quarble]

Ok, so I am not a writer. The adhd wins every time, and I cannot finish anything I start. But. I have an idea that I can’t shake so I’m putting out into The World (of my 7 mutuals):

Steve’s favorite nanny growing up loved The Carpenters. Her name was Pam, and she took care of Steve 5 days a week after school and every summer vacation until he was in 6th grade. She was more of a mother to him than his real mother ever was, and she could do no wrong in his eyes. Every December, they would decorate Steve’s room together, putting up all the handmade paper chains and snowflakes and drawings of Santa that Mrs. Harrington said would not match the rest of the expensive decor of the rest of the house. They would bake cookies and crafts and tell stories, and they would do it all to the album “Christmas Portrait” by The Carpenters.

After Pam got married and moved away, Steve had a hard time around the holidays. He missed her, and he never got to experience that warm and cozy feeling of maternal love combined with childhood traditions again. His mom was busy and uninterested in making kiddie crafts, his dad was working and barely around. Sure, he got presents, and his mom would pick up some cookies from the grocery store, but it was never the same again.

And then, sometimes, he would be punched in the gut by nostalgia. It usually happened in public, at the worst possible time, too. He’d be at Melvald’s, just buying some damn toothpaste, and the warm, deep tones of Karen Carpenter’s voice would get in his ears, singing the lamest and sappiest lyrics imaginable, and he would start to tear up. It was a goddam Pavlovian response that he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried. The Carpenters were NOT cool, and he was a 19 year old man, for fucks sake! He should not be crying in public to goddamn “Merry Christmas Darling” like a menopausal mom. But his feelings about Christmas were all tied up with his abandonment issues and his mommy issues and this fucking song just made him so painfully nostalgic for the one good thing in his childhood and he just…stood there, sniffling, half smiling at a tube of Colgate, dabbing his eyes on his coat sleeve.

Unbeknownst to Steve, Eddie Munson is there, half way down the same aisle holding a bottle of Pert Plus. He is absolutely smitten, just wants to squeeze Steve until he pops for being so adorable and sappy.

But then he goes and ruins the moment by laughing at Karen Carpenter singing “logs on the fire fill me with desire”, because he is a filthy gremlin with his mind in the gutter, and Steve is both embarrassed at being caught by his crush crying to cheesy Christmas music in Melvald’s, and mad at Eddie for laughing at said cheesy Christmas music. Admittedly, that line is totally ridiculous, but that is not the point and Eddie is not allowed to ruin it for him.

Cue the unloading of emotional baggage and healing and making out. And making cookies. The end.

[onwriting-hrarby]

Only a lifetime - IV. The dream

Part I || Part 2 || Part 3 || completed on ao3

[Jean falls in love with Eren and Mikasa during his days as a soldier. What he can’t imagine, is that they hold a soft spot for him, too.]

IV. The dream

Yet he is. It happens fast, and he has to forget about him to fight against the Titans, to protect his people. And, suddenly, there are Titans coming out from the Walls and Jean thinks —this thing so big, so incredible, so powerful. It must be Eren.

Jean tries to locate Mikasa in the middle of the battle, but she’s long gone with Armin against the Cart Titan. He needs her grey eyes, to see if she believes this is Eren too, if she condones him or if she can forget him, because if she does, Jean will. And he also wants to know that she’s not dead, although Jean doubts it. It’s not so much that he trusts Mikasa as the others trust her —her abilities, her body. He trusts her like something godly, something much better than this world deserves. and for that very reason, Jean thinks the world will spare her.

It all comes to a halt, then.

His head hurts and he opens his eyes to a foreign land with sand on the floor and stars in the sky. After the confusion, his voice, as grave and as threatening as when he came back from Liberio and Jean was left heartbroken, because he just loved him so much and he had changed just so. But hadn’t they all? Hadn’t they all moved on without Eren, at some point, only to realize that as they were moving on, Eren was moving forward? Towards the unknown for them, but his goal, apparently. And wasn’t this what Jean had always loved the most about him —his determination?

But not like this, he thinks to himself. Not killing thousands. Hello, subjects of Ymir. Not leaving them behind, without telling them a thing. My name is Eren Jaeger. Not hurting Mikasa above all of them, breaking her heart. How could he? I’m using the power of the Founding Titan to address all of Ymir’s subjects. Not asserting what people had been saying about Paradis all along, that they were demons. My objective is to protect the people of Paradis. Why? Not really even affirming what they had told him in court so many years back —that he was a devil. Not like this, I don’t want it like it.  I reject that wish. I want you to come back, and I want us to be friends, and I will always, always admire you, and how does that make me feel, like a hypocrite, like a bad person because even if you’re a murderer I still owe you part of my happiness, how can I live with that, why have you chosen for me to live this way, why.

_____________

In the night, Jean has a choice. The choice is a uniform and a gun in his hand, the dream he has always dreamt about —the very object of the dream trying to sleep in the bed next to his, but he can see her shoulders slumping, her sniffles.

In his dream, Jean drinks after having given the baby a bath. He stands on the balcony and people are alive, and the streets are bustling and there are children laughing. The sky is clear, blue like kites, and inside his house, the baby is giggling to the mother, and the mother is her. Has always been her.

Mikasa.

That Mikasa is laughing, long hair like she once wore because it’s the hair that would have meant that they are not at war anymore. She looks at their baby and kisses the forehead. They bump noses. She loves the baby, she loves Jean.

If he had dreamt it before that night, there’d be a ring in the door, and Jean would go to open it and Eren would appear, the boyish grin and the teal eyes, with his own son. Eren would hug Jean, and the son would take care of the baby. And there would be the love in there, never-ending, and always nostalgic as they would have made other decisions, been with other people maybe.

But he doesn’t dream it now, because Eren is not there —his head might be, attached to a spine so big Jean can almost see it glowing in the dark. But this is not his Eren, not even Mikasa’s Eren, so the dream of Eren can’t exist. Yet, Jean lets himself indulge in the fantasy of betraying the promise to Marco and finally accepting that he could just be a hypocrite and a selfish man, that he would just need to go to Floch and say, yes, let’s kill them. He would need to align with Eren, in fact, and be loyal to his thinking and his plans that he doesn’t even know. It would be so painfully relieving, to make the easy decision.

But he lets his hands fall from the ears. He hears his name like a chant, over and over. His legs move on his own accord. He puts on his jacket and as he turns around, he realizes that Mikasa’s bed is empty. How long has it been since he’s been dreaming?

As he goes out of the building, in the middle of the night and in the middle of silence, Jean finds her. She’s standing over with Hange, and they look at each other, and in that look, there’s all the pain and all the remembering: he remembers the day he fell in love with Mikasa, and Mikasa remembers the day that Eren told her to cut her hair; he remembers the day Mikasa inspired him on the roof, and she remembers the day she thought Eren had died; Jean remembers her being crushed by a Titan, and Mikasa remembers the confession to Eren; Jean reminisces about her pretty smiles during the time of peace, she reminisces that they were all about Eren; Jean remembers her wide eyes when Eren kissed him, and Mikasa remembers Eren kissing her right after; Jean can still hear her sobs, she can still hear her heart breaking when Eren went away. Jean remembers her body in the night, the way it moaned; Mikasa remembers the promise to Jean, and thinks, not yet.

In the not yet, there’s the truth Jean didn’t want to admit, but it was always there, plain to see, and he knew it when he first saw them: that, in all the worlds, Mikasa would always choose Eren.

So, Jean forgets about his dream —the balcony crumbles, the people disappear, the baby stops giggling, and the Mikasa that wouldn’t be happy with him looks distorted and sad.

“Jean”, she says. “Let’s go.”

Despite the hurt, Jean follows.

_____________

There are many moments in between the battle of sky and earth that he looks for her, and she looks for him. The touches are scarce, but Mikasa still finds him. They graze their hands, they always stay side to side. Jean has been rejected, and he has been denied access to a new life, but he bears just a little pride to know that Mikasa still trusts him with her life. Armin is the commander —and he proves worthy to be—, but Jean has always guided them in more ways than others.

And there’s a moment where his heart is completely broken —the moment he realizes that they can’t make Eren go back. Even after Mikasa has told Eren that she wants to share the burden with him —he doesn’t relent. The sand hurts at his feet and the stars are too clear. If Eren has rejected Mikasa, then there’s no use. Eren has long given up on them, and Jean sees no point, now, in not giving him up, too.

There’s only one way to end this, he thinks. His heart is not breaking —because it has been broken too much, too often, these last months, and this last day. Just a day before, Sasha was dying in his arms. Now, the tombstone lays forgotten, and her memory, etched in their mind because they love her, but she was just another soldier from the thousand that are now dead; just another girl from the ones that are now stepped on by Eren’s titans.

He crumbles when he says: “Mikasa.” Mikasa turns to him. Falco speeds through the air. Her short hair dances around her face. He watches the eyebrows furrow. Jean says: “We need to kill Eren.”

And it’s in his eyes, that Mikasa understands death and understands grief, and hate and love and all that Jean’s feeling at the same time —the turmoil, the losing faith, the rejected dreams.

Her face falls. Jean doesn’t find any strength to console her anymore.

_____________

His arm sneaks around Connie.

Connie arms sneak around him. “I guess this is the end.”

“I guess so”, Jean says.

If it’s the end, it has not all been tragedy. There have been beautiful moments —mostly with Sasha and Connie, laying on the grass, the first time they tasted seawater, the nights watching the stars, all of them hugging, all of them crying, all of them laughing. His siblings, the family he chose. If it’s the end, he’s glad to have been honest with himself, to have loved so much, even when he wasn’t loved back. To prove himself that he was still so alive, his heart in flames every time they saw them. If it’s the end, Jean is proud of himself.

Let it come.

So, it does —death as a fog, steam that fills up his lungs.

He loses consciousness.

[katieskarlette]

I posted 1,206 times in 2022

166 posts created (14%)

1,040 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jaakkola

@a-weyr-full-of-dragons

@darkspear-dancers

I tagged 1,204 of my posts in 2022

#a tag with dragons - 220 posts

#dragonflight spoilers - 87 posts

#wrathion pictures - 86 posts

#alexstrasza - 77 posts

#lol - 67 posts

#misc warcraft silliness - 63 posts

#dracthyr - 58 posts

#rambling about wow - 55 posts

#wrathion - 48 posts

#rambling about dragons again - 36 posts

Longest Tag: 76 characters

#there's another post out there for people who want to thirst over this image

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Personally I hope Wrathion and Sabellian's bickering builds to the point that they fight, resulting in the obviously bigger and stronger Sabellian making Wrathion taste the mat in their dragon forms. Wrathion is, and always has been, a petulant child when you think about it and he has made some seriously big mistakes because of it. I really want him to take a very humbling L in order to make him realize what a small fish in a big pond he is when it comes to dragons. I don't hate Wrathion but I really want to see him be very humbled, badly.

I'm probably a bad mother to my precious son for agreeing with you, anon, but yes! This would be good for his character development.

So far the only dragons Wrathion has spent a significant amount of time around are:

Fahrad, who had to hide his species until the very last moment of his life.

Kairoz, who also spent most of his time in humanoid form, and was a Very Bad Inflience on a young, impressionable dragon

Ebonhorn, who was raised by Highmountain tauren and never had any other dragons around, either

So yeah, Wrathion actually still doesn't know how to fit in with his own kind. I'm looking forward to seeing him learn, but I have a feeling it won't be all sunshine and roses.

32 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#4

Neltharion:  *creates dracthyr with the power of all five dragonflights’ magic*

Nefarian:  *devotes his life to creating a new kind of dragon with...all five dragonflights’ magic*

“DAD!  YOU COULD HAVE SHARED YOUR NOTES!”

51 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#3

If they don’t take the opportunity to have Sabellian irritate the hell out of Wrathion by correcting him every time the prince claims to be Deathwing’s son, I will be super disappointed.

Wrathion:  As the son of the Earth Warder--

Sabellian:  Grandson.

Wrathion:  Would you stop being so pedantic?

Sabellian:  As soon as you stop claiming to be someone you aren’t.

Ebonhorn, sighing:  Not this again...

61 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#2

Wrathion, crying into a goblet of arcwine:  I’m soooooo all alone. I have nobody.  It’s just me against the world.

Ebonhorn:  I still exist.

Wrathion:  Poor, poor, me!  This loneliness is actually painful!

Ebonhorn:  Remember me?  You saved my sanity in BFA and called me brother.  Ring a bell?

Wrathion:  Alllllllllllll alone!

Ebonhorn:  ...

75 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

New official art of Wrathion!  [Source]

This indicates he won’t be getting a new model for Dragonflight, but he looks great so that’s okay.  (And no matter how grown-up he gets, he’ll always be my precious baby whelp...  *nostalgic sniffle*)

182 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

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