#wait I don't care to tag this with stuff I'm lazy

[mousegirl-cheerleader]

Hey look my ass is startin to get cuter too! Yay hrt!

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[mono-dot-jpeg]

boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru

summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function

genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on

[gender neutral reader]

a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.

isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.

the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.

he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.

"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"

nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).

when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.

he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.

"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."

shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"

when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.

he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.

"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."

bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.

when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.

he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.

"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, (Part 3??)

Part 1 was many months ago.. oopsie! Been doing a lot of reading recently and HOLY FUCK I LOVE THE TWISTED SERIES BY ANA HUANG. I JUST FINISHED IT, CAN'T WAIT TO READ THE KING OF SINS SERIES (btw I finished it a long time ago, this draft just never made it out). Do y'all like want some stuff implemented from there, here? I'M THINKING KING OF GREED? 👀

Also.. This was supposed to be my birthday special, but what happened was I became busy and never got around to making a definitive ending.. but don't worry, this isn't where the series ends.

My goodness the taglist on this one almost doubled, to anyone who doesn't want to be part of the tags, please tell me so that I can remove you because this will be the official list and it's still open for more people who wanna see this series.

Warning: Too lazy to proof read since I have so much to do, please tell me any autocorrected, misspelled words in the replies so I can change it.. 😭

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Simon sulked, his forehead resting on the soft mattress. His back and neck were aching yet he couldn't get the fear and worry out his head. You clear the fog in your head, your body felt sore despite the semi-comfortable bed you were laying on.

You groan softly, forcing yourself to sit-up, where the fuck was your daughter? Was she safe? In a panic you looked around the room, you let out a long, deep sigh as you saw her laying on the couch. Long blond hair splayed around messily on the pillow with a blanket that was barely hanging onto her body, she looked so peaceful.

You felt movement next to you, Simon woke up. He looks up to you, in a bit of a shock. He didn't say a word before holding you and guiding you back down to lay on the slightly adjusted bed, back against the pillow he fixed behind you, you wanted to fight it and protest but his strength was god-like on your still weak and not well rested body, your throat was dry to the point of pain and obvious discomfort.

Simon knows you better than you know yourself, resentment settled in your blood, felt more than the amount than when you missed him. He took the tightly sealed water bottle on the table next to your bed and pries it open, holding the bottle's opening to your lips.

You took a big gulp with his guide but you gently took the bottle off his hand into your own, your fingers brushing his a bit in the process, basically telling him you could do it yourself. A few more gulps down and your throat was eased, you handed back the water bottle to Simon.

He was fidgeting with his hands, his fingers rubbing and grazing the spot your fingers accidentally touched. You looked down with dismay as he takes the bottle from you and closes it.

Was he so disgusted and revolted by your touch that he's brushing off his fingers from it? You knew you didn't end it good terms but you had no idea he hated you that much. Maybe not.. are you overthinking? Probably.

It was silent, awkward, just hearing the IV drip and the beeps of the heart monitor. Simon wanted to say something so bad but what do you say to the love of your life who you've hurt severely and regret it because you still love her and want to be in her life again? Mouthful, he knows.

Simon had no right to you anymore, he couldn't even scold you and tell you to take better care of yourself anymore because that's what he used to do, it's way too familiar. He couldn't even touch you without him thinking it would make you uncomfortable.

You feel it, rather see it more but Simon wanted to die in the moment. Heavy breaths and clearly restless eyes, disheveled hair..

"How do you feel..?" He said, he looks elsewhere as he wanted to avoid the way your eyes chose to settle on him..

"I don't know..? I don't know how to process all this but there's no physical pain, just nausea.." you said, he got up to call a nurse and alert them that you're awake. He chose to step out while the doctor did the regular routine of checking everything.

"Momma?" You turn to your left at the couch where your daughter was sat up, rubbing her eyes.. she got off it and immediately ran to you, "I'm glad you're okay now.." she said which never failed to make you smile with how caring she tended to be..

"What happened bubs? Momma doesn't remember much except for fainting.." you asked the bundle of joy as you tried to piece back what had happened beforehand..

"I called dada when you fell, momma. I was so scared, I was shouting but you won't wake up.. dada took so long to get there but when he did, he asked me to go in the car while carried you inside to take you here.." she said, you took her off the ground and placed her at your side, embracing her little body.

"I'm sorry bubs, momma should've taken better care of herself.. if I had, I wouldn't have been so sick to the point of unconsciousness.." you felt so guilty, if only it had been under better circumstance then you would've been able to take care of yourself better and not put your child through what must've been a moment that should've set her in a panic.

"It's okay, momma. I'm a big girl now, I can take care of you like you take care of me.." her sweet little voice paused for a moment.

"Momma, what does unconscious mean?" She asked, you laughed, forgetting that she doesn't know the meaning of certain words yet..

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo @duck-a-doodle @darkhorrorwhispers @cyphah @ash-tarte @linaangel @waves-against-a-cliff @fruitymoonbeams-blog @venussdovess @mactavishsgfandwife @thisisaphrodite @holyfeck @avalkyrieofparis @mymelx @ssc7514 @lilaclazer @fandomwarrior98 @spontaneousleo

[kaq3yma]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 featuring hayato suo

syn: in which your nice, and kind housemate turn to an absolute different person because you gave your lunch to someone else.

⸻ cw: mentions of hayato suo with yandere tendencies, slight hurt, cameo tsubaki-chan, timeskip suo, aged up reader, and not yet proofread

qeena's brief note: (yayyyyy suo won the poll) ellooo, qeena's here with a (kinda) soft yandere! hayato suo (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ idk how i did this but uhm okay, decent ig ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა like i said, this fic is not yet proofread so do beware of typos/grammatical errors (i did this for one hour straight, no break + it's currently 2:21 ish (╥﹏╥) this fic is by far by longest fic to write on this acc but i still think it's a bit rush lol, idk how many words cus too lazy to count but it's long, not 5k words long but it's long. i hope my sayang, especially the suo girlies enjoy the fic, thank you, i love you, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated and happy reading xoxo 🩷💚

tags: @reapkusho @yueliie @littleplantfreak @meidiary @megutime @kajibunny @taronyuhunter @iid-smile @petitte-writer @kobunnie @kyanmapng & @w1nterszn (dm me if you want me to remove you from my tag. dm me if you want me to tag you on my next fic)

What would you address a person who cooks for you, iron your clothes for you, help you with chores, and share the same house as you if not your boyfriend? A housemate? Sure... Suo is your housemate and your friend. After you both graduated from school and got enrolled to a university, you and Suo live together for the sake of nothing, simply agreed that it'll be more convenient.

Now, Suo works for himself, he got his own business going around and he prefers to work from home which is why he do most of your tasks for you. You, however, work as an office clerk. Everyday, like usual, you'd wake up and get dressed as Suo ready your lunch box for you "Morning..." You grab your bag and your purse, putting on your shoes and your coat by the porch, waiting for Suo to come "Here, make sure you eat your lunch, alright? Even the vegetables." You look at him, face contorts in a mixture of disgust and reluctance "Sure..." He bids you good bye, one hand behind himself and he watches you disappears.

You continue typing in on your keyboards, busy attending works when your colleague, Tsubakino, came to you "Y/n-chan, still tending works?" You look at the pretty male before you, nodding your head with a pout "Yes, I got loads of them. I don't think I can make up for my lunch." Tsubaki look at you with a pitiful look "That's too bad, this lunch smells so good! Your boyfriend must've put a lot of effort into making it!" Your eyes widen at their absurd assumption "Tsubaki-chan, I told you we're housemates only, there's nothing going on!" They laugh, taking a sit beside you "Really? He takes good care of you, you always look neat and he made you lunches everyday. Even if you both are not in a relationship, I'm sure he has feelings for you~" Tsubaki put with a singsong tone, giggling when you playfully hit their arm.

You look at the neglected lunchbox siting on your desk. You really wanted to eat anything, especially Suo's food but you got so many works to do and you don't think you'll have time to eat "Tsubaki-chan, how about you eat them for me?"

You need not tell Tsubaki twice for them to snatch the lunchbox and open the lid. The immediate aromatic smell lingers in the air, almost make you wanted to yank the box back. You look up front, acting busy with your job, and eyes didn't glance back at Tsubaki as they begin indulge theirselves on the delicious dish.

"I'm home..." You smile, seeing Suo's head peak from the wall "Welcome back, come on, dinner's ready." You saunter to the table, taking a seat for yourself and put your stuff down "What are we having?" Suo only smiled at you, taking your lunchbox bag and put it in the sink "Secret... You'll know when it's ready." You wait patiently, watching him move around the kitchen until he came back with a plate of your favorite food "Suo!" You beamed, looking as excited as ever.

He take a set of utensils for you, smiling once again "Eat a lot, okay?" He pat you on the head before making his way back to the counter. You pick your utensils and begin consuming the tasty food Suo had prepared you.

"Su-" A loud thud and clanking shut you off, your eyes move from your food to his back "What's the mat-" This time, his voice cut you off, he speak in a calm, soft manner but it's quiet and low you can barely make it out if hadn't you hear properly "How unusual..."

"You eat everything, even the vegetables." Crap, did he caught you? Impossible, how could he-

"Never once would you finish your lunch, not with the veggies. You couldn't possibly be giving your lunch to somebody else, would you, Y/n?" The eye-patched man turn around, and he's no longer smiling. He look down at you, amble to your side and lean down "How hurtful, I made them special for you but you gave them to someone else."

"Suo, I..." He stood up, turn around and walk away. Before he does so, he turn his head slightly at you "You should hurry eat and shower. You smell... Different." He walk into his room, almost slammed the door and lock it.

That's the first time he ever got so mad at you. Over lunch? Sounds unreasonable but he did said he made them specifically for you and giving them to someone else does seem a bit disrespectful. You sighed, recontinue to eat your dinner in silent and went up to your room after washing the dirty dishes.

The next morning, you woke e up, shower and get dressed like usual. You went down to the kitchen seeing Suo, making your lunch for you "Good morning," He smile, acting as if nothing happened the previous night. You get your stuff ready, waiting for him until he came "Thanks," Neither of you said anything for a couple of minutes until you remark a "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gave my lunch to another person. I'll make sure to eat them by myself from now on, I promise."

He said nothing, one hand moving upward to stroke your hair and grin "It's alright, you promised... But, make sure this time you eat even the vegetables okay?" The mere mentioned of it stirred a sense of repulsion in you "But..." The male hardened look is enough to make you sighed in defeat.

"I'll try..." He smile, nodding his head in accepting manner and bid you off.

It's been a week since the incident of weird Suo encountered. You talked it out with Tsubakino and they started squealing excitedly, claiming Suo was feeling jealous, overprotective and they even said his behavior is a tendency of a yandere or whatever that means.

You're working on your desk when Tsubakino came up to you, unusually depressed "Tsubaki-chan, what's wrong?" The long-haired male sat down next to you, bottom lip jut out in frustration. Tsubaki started talking about this guy they're interested in and that they needed your help if possible.

Tsubakino plan for a dinner after work and how can you say no to them and their beautiful smile and gleaming eyes. You texted Suo, saying you won't be able to make it to dinner because your colleague wanted to consult about something.

Before you got a reply, Tsubakino started to wish desperately for a "no" reply but all you get was a "OK" sticker reaction from him.

"How boring!" They claimed, hugging your arm affectionately.

The dinner went well, Tsubaki asked every possible questions to you so you can help them with this "Ume-chan" guy. But, one thing didn't go as plan, Tsubakino ended getting so frustrated at some point they can't help but order one alcoholic drink after another. The pretty male couldn't leave you alone either so they got you drunk as well, only thing is, you're not as much as a good drinker as they are. Two cups is enough to knock you light.

Tsubaki help you got out of the place after, carrying you on their shoulder with a tired groan "Y/n-chan. You're such a light drinker!" You giggle at them, hiccuping a few times before passing out once again.

Tsubakino carry you as far as to a nearby stop and put you down, slouching you against the wall and get your phone. They begin scrolling through your contacts, searching for a particular name of somebody until "Suo <3"

"I knew you like him too!~"

"Huh?" Still drunk and wasted, you opened one eye to look around only to realize you're on someone's back "Suo!" You slurred, hugging the man's neck as he carry you "When you wake up tomorrow, you're so done." You giggle, hiding your face in between the nape of his neck "You're being childish, sho cute!~" You're very drunk right now so he'll let you off the hook tonight.

However when you wake up the next morning, you certainly did not expect yourself in Suo's room with him on the side. You tried to got up as sneakily as possible but he caught you, pushing you back to bed "Where do you think you're going?"

"My bedroom?" The male laugh, pushing his hair back and turn to look at you in the eyes "Just what the hell happened last night?" It's scary how sudden his mood can switched. One moment he's alright and the next thing you know is he's angered, eyes cold and facial indiffirent.

"What do you mean? I... I-" He pinned you down, his earrings dangle when he cage you in between his arms and lean down "Would it scares you if I said I don't like you going around with another person? Would it scares you if I said I don't like knowing another person ate the lunch I made for you? Would it scares you if I said I think of bounding you next to me, caging you like a bird so you'll stick close to me? Would it scares you knowing how much I like you... To the point that I'd rather die than losing you?"

People can ask the past you would you ever expect the calm, collected Suo to act so heart-wrenching and deeply saddened and you'd say no. Never in your wildest dream would you expect him to lose himself over you.

This Suo right here does not scares you, if anything, it surprises you. You never know your mere existence could affect one's being so much, much less Suo's. He said he'll die without you around. Is that a good thing? It doesn't sound like it but why is your heart pounding? It's pounding so hard you can hardly breathe. Maybe, it's because you're relief, relieved that he needed you as much as you needed him.

"I'll do anything..." He bury his face in between the crook of your neck "So just stick close to me, never went on dinner without me again. Never consult someone without me again. Never do anything without me, ever again."

"I'm sorry," His eyes widen, they expanded twice it's size when you put your arms around him, tightly embrace him in your warmth. He sought, pushing himself further onto you and hug you as tightly as he could.

You are not mad at him. You are hugging him, you are sorry even though he should be the one who's sorry - for feeding you off with his fake facade. His fake, nice, facade "No, I'm sorry-"

"I hope all pests leave you alone! You're only mine." The maroon-ish brown haired male continue hugging you tightly, sniffing on your sweet like a nectar scent "You sent me off everyday with these kinds of wishes?!"

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Hey I love your work so much!!

I was thinking of maybe a Mike Schmidt x reader where the reader is all like “I’m not good enough for you, I don’t deserve you” stuff and then like Mike makes it up to the reader to show them that they are more than enough 🫶

Sure, but it's gonna hurt!

Blue Sunrise

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: All is well, yet you aren't. A fact that disturbs and irritates you so, even if it shouldn't.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns for Reader, SFW with brief mentions of smut, pre-established relationship, set during the movie but that's honestly not very relevant, hurt/comfort, Reader and Mike both have PTSD, this isn't projection, bed rotting, depression, self-loathing, night terrors/nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, mentions of medication, lack of self care, slight self-harm (scratching), breakdown, nosebleed.

Notes: *in sonic snapcube dub voice* heyyyyyyyyyyyy what's upppppppppppppp it's meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (STOP!!)

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

6:34 A.M.

The dawn is gentle, the sky a soft blue behind the thin, cheap blinds that cover the bedroom window not that far in front of me. If I wanted, I could get up and open the window, revealing the surely beautiful and gorgeous sunrise that waits for me just outside the blinds.

But I don't. And I won't.

Birds sing gently outside, waking up and fliting about here and there. It's my favorite part of the day, quite frankly. When I can, I open the window to allow in the fresh, cool air, moist with the morning dew, unmuffling the bird's songs as I drift off to sleep, my schedule mostly in tune with Mike's for his night shift. Sometimes I manage to stay awake to greet him when he returns home. It's always nice when I do. His smile is lazy, his strides long and slow as he makes his way to the bed, peeling off his work clothes and crawling under the covers with me. Sometimes he'll press himself against me, his lips finding my neck as his hand dives between my thighs, his fingers trained on one goal as he murmurs against my skin how much he's missed me. Sometimes I wake to this.

There's a part of me that wishes he'd do this today just so I wouldn't have to think.

The lock on the front door rattles as someone attempts to insert a key into the hole. It doesn't matter how long he's lived here or how he uses those keys every morning, he still takes a moment to make sure he's using the right one, and on the first try he usually isn't. So it takes him a solid minute to unlock the door and enter the house. If we had dogs, they'd surely drive us insane from his routine. It slightly drives me insane already. But I'm technically not even supposed to be awake, so I never mention it.

When Mike finally enters the house, the first thing I hear after the satisfying break of the doors seal ringing throughout the living room is a deep sigh as Mike's backpack lands in front of the coat rack. He should be quieter about setting it down. I would be. But I think he assumes we should be so deep in sleep it really wouldn't matter, and it honestly doesn't make much noise. Just a slightly dull 'thud' against the thinly carpeted floor.

Next I can hear his car keys land in the bowl they're meant for. Again, he's a bit too loud with it all. At least, while people are sleeping. But it's not really a bother. In a way, I like it. It gives me a routine to memorize, his sounds before he'll trail to our room and come press himself against me.

The rocking recliner creeks softly as he sits in it, lazily undoing the laces on his boots before he tosses them towards the coat rack. And next he'll duck his head into the fridge I'm sure and look for the leftovers I put into a big bowl for him to warm up - which he won't, because he's a psychopath who likes cold food. - and then when my alarm goes off, he'll come to wake me up, rising from the old couch where he's very quietly reading his book while he eats and do whatever he has to do to prevent me from slipping back into sleep. He's very good at that job. Especially when he uses his tongue.

But today there's a break in the routine. Today, his footsteps are padding towards our room, the door quietly opening as he slips in. I can hear him let out a soft sigh as he tugs on his hoodie, pulling it off and then discarding of his jeans, which muffle the clack of his belt buckle as he slips them off. Left in his undershirt and boxers, he crosses the room to open the blinds and the window, letting in the fresh air and leaning against the thin windowstill for a moment. Now, I can see him.

He looks rested, a little more than he should for having just finished a night shift. I keep telling him he's going to get fired, but he always wiggles his way out of that conversation. The bags usually under his eyes aren't too deep this morning, which while problematic is relieving. His skin is pale blue from the dawns light that pours into the room. His dark curls are more thick on the top of his head, clumped together from him not brushing them after his shower. He must've used too much conditioner, because his hair also looks thicker than it usually does. The breeze blows his oversized pale blue shirt against his chest as he leans forward, allowing his eyes to close as he takes in a deep breath. It feels like an overly private moment. Like I've intruded by watching him. I don't see him like this much when he isn't alone. When he's with me or Abby, he's alert. Somewhat on guard. It's like he's watching us to make sure we're okay. He's too used to things falling apart in an instant. But when he's alone, physically or emotionally, the walls crumble away to reveal a man who enjoys peace. Who smiles softly as he bends down low, resting his chin upon his arms, letting the dawn greet him and being the supposed first in the house to greet the dawn. And I feel like a stalker for watching him. A scene that feels as if I've stolen what will now only exist deep in my mind for when I want to remember one of the few times he has truly ever looked at peace with the world. It's a scene out of a painting. As private as a prayer. I should grant him more privacy, but I don't. In a captivated and enchanted way, I can't.

I'd never tell him this, but in this moment he looks like his mother. And not in the sense of him being her son. No, based off of the few photos I've seen of her in more private, intimate instances, like when she was holding a very small Mike on her lap on his second birthday, or when Mike's father had stolen a photo during their honeymoon when she wasn't looking, Mike looks just like her. Quiet, serene, not hiding anything from anyone because there's no need. At this moment it is just him and the gentle, late winter breeze that makes my nose begin to sting. He's beautiful. Just like she was.

The moment comes to an end, and now it is just a moment that exists only within my mind as his eyes open. The blue dawn brings out the green in his eyes that's usually hidden by artificial light that overpowers the amber, turning them mostly black in some instances. That's the color I thought they were until I saw him in proper daylight. His long lashes bat once, twice in an almost sleepy manner as he shifts his focus, now turning his head to look at me. I shut my eyes quickly, my canines biting into my tongue to force myself to keep a straight face. But it's too late. We made eye contact, even if it was only for a second, and now he knows I'm awake.

"Sweetheart?" He whispers softly, his voice low and slightly gravelly in the way it always is. His 's' and 't's just a tad sharp, clear as always when he speaks. I hear the floor groan as he pads towards me.

I don't speak. I'm not supposed to be awake. I should be asleep, he would rather I was asleep. I tried to be asleep.

He stops in front of me, I can hear the floor groan louder as he crouches in front of me. He's trying to decide if I'm awake or not, if maybe he'd been tricked into thinking we made eye contact. But something convinces him he hasn't, and the bed sinks as he places a hand upon the mattress to support his weight while he kisses my temple.

"Hi," he whispers against my skin, placing another kiss just above the curve of my brow. "Good morning." He places another kiss on the space between my brows, his lips now trailing up to the middle of my forehead. "You look so pretty like this."

Like what? My skin shining with oil, my nose dirty, my body heavy from not having moved?

Something makes him pause when his lips find my cheek. He keeps his lips pressed against my skin for a moment before he pulls away, licking his lips as he looks closer at me.

"Hey," he whispers softly, a finger finding my chin. "Open your eyes."

I don't want to. When I do he'll instantly know what I've been doing, and I don't want to handle it. I don't want to deal with it.

His hand slips under my head, between my cheek and my pillow.

"Sweetheart, your pillow's wet," he says in quiet surprise. "Open your eyes, talk to me."

Hesitatingly, I obey. Cracking my eyes open and trying not to reveal how horrid the dryness in them feels after allowing them rest for a few moments after keeping them open for what could have been hours at this point. Mike's face is inches from mine, his brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scan for other obvious signs of distress.

"Hi," I croak in a tired, unused voice as I try to pretend all is well. Mike unfortunately knows better.

"What happened?" He asks concerningly, taking in the tone he does whenever Abby is upset, fretting over me like I'm an injured child as both of his hands cup my face, his lips finding what he's confirmed are thin, itchy and salty tear tracks, placing several, feather-light kisses along them.

"Nothing," I answer honestly, my voice still cracking. "I'm fine."

"Your eyes are red, baby," he says softly, pulling away to look at me again while his body inches closer. "You look like you've been crying for hours."

Ha. I wish. If I had been, maybe I'd feel better about everything. But instead, I've been lying here since Abby went to bed, feeling numb and dead internally as I willed myself to be upset about anything. Work, bills, the color of the walls. I'd succeeded maybe twice, little tears streaming down my face for a minute or two. But then they would stop, and it would feel as though I couldn't cry. Really cry. Like there was some emotional, maybe physical block preventing me from just truly letting all of my emotions out in a possibly hysterical fit. One that would mean I could connect to my humanity. I don't know what's wrong with me. So, instead I just say "I haven't cried."

Mike opens his mouth to call bullshit, but his brow furrows tighter as he thinks. "What's wrong?" He asks again, now lifting my head to allow one arm to slip underneath so I can lay upon it.

"Nothing," I answer again, truly unsure of what to say. "I'm really okay."

And I am. Work is fine, I am fine. Friends are fine. I don't have entitlement to be upset.

"Is it another episode?" Mike asks softly, now pulling his body onto the bed to lie next to me, fully committed to being partner of the year over here. Ugh. Great.

"No," I answer quickly, averting my gaze. Mike's hand cups my cheek, his body cool compared to mine. I'm soaked in sweat from sleeping - read: laying motionless on the bed since 9:30. - in too warm of clothes in too warm of a room under too warm of blankets. I probably stink. Meanwhile the morning air makes Mike feel refreshing. He's perfect. I'm a mess.

"It's okay if it is," Mike says softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of if-"

"I'm not having an episode," I say firmly, cutting him off as though it will solidify my statement more than his if I finish mine first. "I'm just not."

I don't pretend to be perfect. I'm not, and I never will be. I know that's okay. I know episodes happen, and that I'll be okay. I've been so much better lately on my new schedule. I'm working, I'm happy.

I have absolutely no good reason to be in the midst of a depression episode. One where the memories won't leave my mind, where I can't sleep, can't think about anything but the past. It plays in my head over and over again, and I can't stop it. Even though I try. I read, I journal, I bathe. But I don't feel real. People don't feel real. Mike is disorienting in the sense that he is the only thing that truly feels real. Where the pale color of the sheets seems hypnotic, his slightly tan skin contrasts to remind me this place really does exist. The furniture and details of the room seem as real as something from a video game, renderings that aren't as realistic as they could be that blend into the wall more as you look. Flat. Nothing. But the freckles on his nose are real. Strikingly real. Overly real. It's as though someone took their time to place each one, carefully deciding their color, their opacity, their placement. I want and love each one, but at this moment they slightly torture me by drawing me into a comforting trap.

"I haven't had an episode in over a month, I'm better," I attempt to say in a firm, solid voice. But I'm too tired, too worn out. My chest burns both from anxiety induced heartburn and how shallow my breathing has been for the past several hours. Mike looks sad, and I hate that. Deeply.

"You have been doing better," he says softly, like a reassuring parent. "I've seen that. And I'm so proud of you."

But I still have this. I'm still like this. I still can't have people wrap their arms around me from behind because I'm instantly taken back to when it would end in me collapsed on the ground, panting, crying, calling out for help that just wouldn't come. I still can't wear shirts with too tight of collars because it always end with me half naked, ripping the shirt off while hyperventilating. That was how I had to tell Mike. For our first Christmas together he bought me this beautiful turtleneck, knowing I liked the style but didn't own many. A dark evergreen color, affordable but a lovely tight-knit material, I adored the thing. But the moment the shirt was over my head, the neck felt like a hand suffocating me, and though I tried to tolerate it fie as long as I could, it only took one casual graze of his hand along my back to send me reeling into a corner, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering like a terrified child as I clawed at my neck while he tried to get it off of me.

'I'm so proud of you.' The statement feels like a backhanded reward. It feels as though I'm an idiotic child who just can't learn their ABC's or basic fundamental math. It feels like I'm a small toddler surrounded by adults looking at me full of pity in their eyes while they think 'well, you'll never be normal by any means. But maybe one day if you're lucky, you'll work in a Subway.' But they don't tell me this. They just praise me for existing. 'You woke up today! You put on clothes today! You didn't kill yourself!' It makes me want to scream. Yes, even at him. I want to grab him by his shirt and scream until my voice is shattered 'don't praise me for the bare minimum! I'm not a child!'

But I know he's not. I know he feels the same way when he slips back in progress as well. There was a solid month last year where Mike's insurance refused to pay for his sleep medication due to some paperwork slip and such, something they eventually realized was a complete blip on their end. But that month was hell for Mike, who could barely sleep well even with the medication. His easy smirks were replaced with cracked lips, skin raw from constant biting. His eyes were filled with paranoia from lack of sleep, and worse were the night terrors. Mike didn't even know he was still capable of having them, usually sedated by his meds well enough that if there was a nightmare, he just stayed asleep. At worst he'd wake up in a haze, maybe a very short yelp if anything. But without his meds, it was screaming. Constant screaming. There were nights he would wake after only an hour and he'd start, his voice shrill and reverberating off the walls as he thrashed in the bed. You couldn't console him, touch made him worse. When it happened, you simply had to leave the room and pray he would be okay. The episode could last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, and you would know it was over when all you could hear was broken sobbing, quiet and childlike in nature. Then I would return to the room, and there he'd be. Sometimes wrapped in blankets, sometimes his shirt torn off of himself. Usually sitting either in the dark corner of the room or on the floor of our closet. Red, angry marks would trail along his skin from clawing at himself with his uneven nails, some of them being actual cuts he'd managed in his terror. I'd carefully clean his cuts with cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide while he silently stared ahead, too ashamed to speak or make eye contact with me. And too terrified to sleep again.

Sleep deprivation didn't help, either. One day I saw him with a Redbull stuck in his hand, seemingly never empty despite how much he drank from it. At first I thought it was one, than I realized it was three, then I realized I didn't really know what number he was on. It was surprising how well he could take the new, unusual load of caffeine that tastes sickly sweet without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. I didn't realize he was trying to starve off sleep until the next morning when his leg was bouncing a mile a minute and he was snapping at every little thing. That day he had a breakdown over dropping an unpeeled onion. And that's when it slipped out.

I didn't judge him. I was terrified for him, but I didn't judge him. And I could tell the same was true for him when I would have my slips, though mine looked different. Mine looked like a lack of self care and rotting in our bed, staring pointlessly ahead until he would lift me off the bed and carefully guide me to a warm bath, where he'd gently wash my skin with a soft rag like I was a newborn while I stared ahead at nothing. At this point we had learned to tell the oncoming signs of each others episodes, and how to starve them off. And if we couldn't, how to help each other through them.

Usually, I don't mind. But today, it hurts. It all hurts.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks me gently, his thumb gliding over my cheekbone as he wraps me in his embrace, careful of where he places his hands on my person. Like I'm a bomb.

I don't want to be treated like this anymore.

"Yes," I sigh in an irritated voice, like it's the most inconvenient thing he should ask me such a question. But I haven't. I feel empty and yet too full at the same time, and guilt pounds behind my left eye with the ferocity of a headache that I can't just mother myself.

Mike doesn't believe me. He'll pretend he does, but the press of his lips betray him as he takes a deep breath in like he's trying to tell what wire to cut next.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" He asks softly, his thumb still stroking just below the raw corner of my eye. It burns. All of it.

'No,' I snap in my head. But I just tighten my jaw and press my own lips together.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you," I say in a tight voice. Now he's going to pretend that's okay, and he'll go get his breakfast. Then he'll pretend he can't finish it all, joke lightly and say I gave him too big of a portion even though he eats like he's still a growing teenager, and offer me little bites as he "tries" to finish the rest, then eventually trick me into finishing it. He isn't slick, and I'm not a child.

"Hey," he says in a light whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could go out today? All three of us? Or I could call Max, see if she'll watch Abs for a little bit so we can get away?"

Distraction. Cute. I don't need it.

"That could be nice," I admit through half gritted teeth, not meeting his eyes. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," he says too quickly, obviously relieved to have a straw to grasp at. "Your choice."

Guilt twists in my chest like an alien creature settled in my lungs, burning as it begins to slither its way towards my throat to suffocate me on its wrath. He doesn't need to do this. Can't he see how well I'm doing?

"How was work?" He asks me in an attempt to keep me talking. Mike doesn't like silence, not like this. Not really any time. There's always noise throughout the house, whether it's a show on in the background or white noise from his cassette player. He can't stand silence. Especially from people.

"Work was..." Fine? The usual? Non-eventful?

"Good," I decide. Mike presses his lips together again. Stop doing that.

"Yeah?" He asks in a slightly tight voice.

"Yeah," I confirm in a tighter voice.

"You didn't... call out or anything?"

My bottom left back molar feels like it might snap from how tight my jaw is. "Why?" I ask, venom unintentionally creeping in.

"Just asking," he says quickly.

"Why?" I press harder, wanting to know who told on me. Abby hasn't even had the chance to speak with him.

'It's because he knows your patterns,' I think. 'He's trying to gage how serious this is.'

"Maybe we could go out for breakfast? We can wait until Abby wakes up, go get some Waffle Hous-"

"I'm not having an episode," I snap quickly, more harsh than I intended. My tone makes him flinch slightly, his eyes shutting for a moment as he takes another breath in. Now I'm scared he'll pull away.

"We... don't have to talk about this right now," he says softly, opening his eyes again and wrapping his arm around me tighter. "Let's just focus on breakfast."

The guilt pounds in my kidneys, which are sore since I haven't left the bed since I laid down after putting Abby to sleep, but I did have a full water bottle around 3:00 in the morning. It's not Mike's fault I backtracked. He's just trying to be nice. I'm the asshole here.

"I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, dropping my gaze and biting my tongue between my canines again to stop the tears that are now willing to come freely to burn my eyes during such an inappropriate moment.

"It's okay," Mike says softly, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Don't even think about it."

'Don't even think about the fact he's just trying to be a decent person and you can't even say 'thank you,'' a grating voice in my head chides me. 'What, you're too good for a free meal?'

"I'm sorry," I repeat softer, my nails digging into my wrist that I'm holding to keep control over myself. Mike's hand is searching for mine, ready to pry it away to prevent me from doing what I need to to prevent the waterworks.

"Hey." Stop with the 'hey's. "I said it's alright, you're okay."

It's all bad. Everything's bad, and it's not going to get better. I keep thinking I'll get better, I keep thinking I'll be okay. But every two steps forward is one step back and I can't keep doing this redundant bullshit for the rest of my life. Am I going to be 40 at the office Christmas party sneaking off to freak out in the bathroom because something triggered me and I just can't get a grip on things? Am I even going to make it to 40?

Mike is comforting me, cradling my head to his chest and rocking me back and forth. And his shirt is wet. I don't like that his shirt is wet, it should be dry. Why is it fucking wet?

"It's okay," he's whispering in my hair while horrid choking sounds come from somewhere around us. Maybe the other room? "You're alright, it's okay."

I'm aware it's alright, I'm aware it's okay. Why are you wet? Why does my head hurt?

"I can't- sleep," my voice chokes out between guttural sobs, my face pressed into his chest. "It's all nightmares."

Oh. Shit. That's me. The wetness, I did that. My bad.

"I know, it's okay. How long?" Mike asks softly. What, are you gonna call my therapist?

"A week," I moan into his chest. My ribs expand with each recycled breath I steal from against his chest, and I can feel him trying to gently tug me away so I can get one with fresh, cold air instead. I don't let him. My lungs burn more. "They just won't stop."

"It's okay, it's only temporary," he says softly, his hand pushing away some of the blanket to relieve me of the boiling warmth underneath. The cold air is refreshing against my skin, even through my clothes are soaked with stinking sweat.

"No, it's not!" I cry hysterically into his chest. "They don't go away. None of it goes away. I want it to go away!"

He's nodding, rubbing circles on my back as I grip his shirt hard enough it may stretch.

"It'll get better. It did for awhile," he reminds me.

"But I'm back here. I always end up back here. I was doing so good!" I sob, feeling the wetness on his shirt begin to slightly thicken, probably due to snot. I try to sniff it back into my sinuses, but I think that just draws his attention to the new fluid he's covered in.

"That's okay. You'll do even better next time. And if you don't, that's okay too." Don't say what I think you're going to say. Do not. Michael, I'm serious, don't- "I'm still proud of you."

Fuck. Ooooooff!

This is the real release of my emotions. Now I'm gasping, choking, sobbing, making horrible sounds that sound like a European ambulance siren wailing through the streets to announce someone's dying on the way to the hospital. My head throbs with the pain from the heavy crying, and I may give myself a nosebleed from the passion of it all. And Mike, his patience thick and durable, just holds me through it all. Letting me soak his shirt, dirty his skin, grab at him blindly while I wail like a spoiled child, just repeating the phrase over again. 'Proud.' What pride. What honor to be had at such a breakdown. Yes, very understandable.

"I should be better," I sob into his chest. "You deserve better."

"What?" He laughs lightly, and at first it feels mocking, but then he's pulling my head away fron my soaked enclosure and his eyes are so gentle for a moment I know the light laughter is simply from surprise. Then his eyes widen and he's back in parent mode.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me!" I choke out while gripping his shirt. At first he thinks I'm talking about our relationship, then he realizes I'm not letting him pull away.

"Sweetheart, you're bleeding," he gently explains. "Let me wipe your face. I just need tissues. I'm not even leaving the bed."

But that's too much. Let me bleed, let my head throb, let this headache take the vision away in my eye from how bad it hurts. Let anything happen so long as I can stay in this moment. Don't break the spell. Don't let me go numb again.

"Don't leave me," I cry pathetically, my eyes all scrunched together in the same manner as wailing infants, my grip on his shirt not breaking. Sure enough, there on the wet spot of his shirt is a dark stain of blood that should hopefully come out if we wash it fast enough.

"Let me do that," I'm saying as I try to peel off his shirt now. "Let me wash it."

He's gently guiding my hands away. "Don't worry about it," he says gently, kissing my hands and wrists like they might break even from the delicate graze of his lips. "Let me take care of you."

He does this all the time. He always takes care of me. I should do more. Be more. For him.

"You deserve better," I choke out, feeling like I may suffocate from the tears. Mike's brows furrow in concern, and he grips my chin very carefully as he makes me meet his eyes.

"Hey, no. Get that out of your head, it's all okay," he tells me softly, staring at me like if he can't verbally convince me, his hard stare will do the trick. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"I should be better," I repeat, my crying lessening slightly as I try to hold eye contact.

"You're getting better," he reminds me. "This is the happiest I've seen you since we met. You'll get back to that. Hell, you could feel the same way tonight. It's okay. Take a day off. We all need one, even normal people," he says softly, stroking my hair as he kisses my forehead. "Can you just let me take care of you in the meantime?"

No. Go away, let me rot.

"We can still go out for breakfast," he offers gently. "I can still call Max, or we can all stay in. I'll set up a nest in the living room so you can watch TV. Works you like that?"

Stop. Stop being nice to me, stop trying to make me feel better. It all just feels awful. I don't want this guilt, someone takes it away.

Mike must sense my overwhelmed emotions, because he places another kiss on my forehead before asking if he can clean my face again, and this time I say yes. He pulls away, which is still upsetting but less so. I don't make a deal out of it this time at least. He opens a drawer, searching for wipes and pulling them out before turning back to me.

"Do you want to sit up?" He asks gently. I bite my tongue to prevent another mocking thought directed towards me and nod. Bones crack as I do, my kidneys hurt worse. But at least I finally moved.

Tears still streak down my face as Mike wipes away the snot and blood, his large hand gently cupping my face as he does. There's a soft smile on his face, though I'm not particularly sure why. And when he's done, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip before placing his own lips on top of mine. They're chapped, one spot raw from excessive biting. But there's still some leftover chapstick on them, and it tastes like grapefruit.

I tug on his shirt, one hand sneaking under it to feel his cool skin underneath. He gently takes my wrist once more, then pulls away. A silent rejection. He knows that I'm just looking for a distraction from my emotions, and in a moment he'll offer a much healthier one. He does discard the shirt, leaving his chest bare, but only so that he doesn't smear my fluids back onto me as he pulls me in for another embrace.

"We'll be okay," he promises. "Everything will be okay."

"What if it's not?" I ask in a quiet, strained voice.

"Then it'll be okay later. You can take time to not be okay," he says.

There's a short silence before either of us speak. And when I hear his voice hitch in the way it does when he's about to say something, Abby's alarm rings crystal clear in her room. Then the sound of a truck rattles by on the road in front of the house. Birds continue to sing. And my pours feel so clogged I'm sure my skin will be lashing out for days.

But it'll all be okay.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

"Can we have some fluff to reco-" no. Suffer.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[hirayaaraw]

Of Taxes and Marriage

Tags: friends to lovers; marriage for convenience / fake marriage; pining

Next

It's Saturday and you were supposed to have to watch a movie downtown with your bestfriens Wonwoo but plans were changed. Here you are in his dining table with your laptop and cramming your tax file that is due on Monday.

"Why no one has taught this in college?" You complain while you were dizzy with the amount of payslips you got from your main job and side hustle. "I'm really sorry for cancelling our plans, Won."

"It's fine." Wonwoo said before sitting next to you and peek on your laptop. You can see his grimace on your peripheral view.

"Should I call my mom's secretary to fix your tax file so we can eat our dinner now?" You roll your eyes. Wonwoo, of course, the rich kid he is, knows and have anyone to fix your tax.

"I doubt you call them to fix yours."

"Well, right." And Wonwoo, the rich kid he is, doesn't like using his connection. He likes doing his stuff on his own. "I don't even want to call my mom right now because that means another blind date to arrange with another daughter of someone."

"Poor you." You said nonchalantly. You couldn't care less about his rich boy problem because when you saw the amount of tax you will be paying. "I'm doomed."

Wonwoo pulled your laptop as you try to process the fact that you owe the freaking government a huge amount of tax. "Woah. You made that much in your side hustle?"

"Made that much, gave away so much to my family, and now I need pay so much to this government." You stressed out as you comb your hair in frustration. You are thinking to delay the payment and paying the penalties. "Not to mention my monthly rent."

"You need some help?"

"No, I'm fine. I can handle this." You said and close your laptop. "What should we eat tonight?"

"Orange chicken?"

"That sounds nice. Do you the ingredients?" You stood up and went to his refrigerator.

"Yeah, I did some grocery when you said we gonna cancel the plan tonight." He said then start preparing the utensils that will be used.

This is how your weekends usually happen. Dinner with either of your apartments. Cooking together or if you both feeling lazy, you order pizza and do some movie marathon. This started during your college days as broke students and now you two are inseparable.

Once you are done cooking, you felt a bit better as you see Wonwoo become excited about the food. He prepared the table and pull you a chair.

"Thank you for the food." He said before closing his eyes to mutter a short prayer. "Finally a real food."

"If only you can stop being lazy about cooking."

"I told you I can't cook."

"Then what did we do earlier, Mister?"

"Well, I chop and you do your magic." Wonwoo said then ate a spoonful of rice. He continued explaining how shitty he is as a cook. You just agreed he is a bad cook and settled on cooking on weekends for him so he can stay alive or else he will live through instant noodles and canned goods.

Once you finish eating, you clear the table and he wash the dishes. He notice how your aura is still gloomy despite trying to make you laugh.

"You know I can help you if you tell me." He said while rinsing the plate.

"If the government can give tax break to corporations for doing charity, why can't they do it for single women who are breadwinners?" You whined at him. "If you happen to know who to contact to lower my tax bracket, then I will gladly ask for your help."

Wonwoo wipe the plates dry and put it on the cabinet. He bit his lower lip and turn to you.

"What? Do you know how?"

"Yeah" Wonwoo said in low voice. Unsure if he should say it.

"Really? You know how?" You said excitedly and you hugged him. Wonwoo gulped as he smelled your perfume. You pulled away from him and waited for this information.

"You need to marry someone to get a tax break." He said in a matter of fact tone. You groaned and slap his chest in annoyance.

"Where can I find a husband? I've been single since we graduated." You frowned at him while he smiled at you. He ruffled your hair to annoy you more.

"You can marry me."

You blink twice at him. It seems like your brain is playing at you. You scanned his face to see any sign if he is joking or what but Wonwoo is just smiling at you.

"What did you say?"

"I sad you can marry me." Wonwoo said in a very serious tone then gave you a small smile. You can feel your heart beat jumps.

"You shouldn't joke about marriage, asshole." You pushed him towards the sink and walk to his sofa. He followed you like a lost cat.

"Hey I'm serious." Wonwoo said when he caught your hand.

"Marriage for tax? Are you kidding me?" You looked at him with disbelief on how he came up with that idea. "Marriage should happen between two people who love each other."

"We love each other!" He said as if it is the easiest thing on the world.

"Platonically."You said and Wonwoo still holding your hand slowly kneeling on one knee.

"You get a lower tax bracket, my mom will stop pestering me about blind dates."

"Insane."

"You can pay me half of your monthly rent or even nothing if we get married."

"I can believe you are talking me through this and I am seriously considering it."

"Y/N, will you marry me? For the sake of taxes and everything that bothers us." He asked you with that endearing smile. How could you say no?

"You'll help me file my tax?"

"Gladly."

"I will shoo away your blind dates."

"I am literally on my knees so please."

"Half of my rent and I cook for you everyday."

"I will be forever grateful."

"When's our wedding?"

That's how you ended up Monday morning at the city hall in your white skirt, coat, and strapped on heels. Wonwoo arrived at your appartment with a bouquet yellow tulips and to add the wedding vibe according to him. He looks handsome in his black tuxedo and slick back hairstyle.

Now you both stand in front of a judge as he precided your wedding. You drag a janitor and a court clerk to be a witness to your wedding. Wonwoo held both of your hands. You listen to the judge intenly while he looks at you endearingly.

"With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

You and Wonwoo's eyes widen in surprise. You forgot the part where you need to kiss each other. Wonwoo slowly remove the veil from your face.

He held your cheeks gently and you look at him before closing your eyes. This is not the first kiss you shared with him. However, this is is special as you are now his wife. He lowered his head and gave you a kiss. You can feel his smile against yours and you couldn't help but reach his face with your free hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. And Mrs. Jeon!" You pulled away and hugged him. Wonwoo laughed as he hugged you tighter.

Just two idiots who will never admit they love each other romantically.

2017 December

A day before you both leave the campus dorm to celebrate the holiday. You are sitting side by side in his tiny couch with a bowl of popcorn on your lap. Love, Rosie playing on the screen.

"Do you think we will be in love at each other like them?" You asked him out of the blue. Just pure curiousity.

"I don't know. Maybe? We don't what fate holds for us."

"But is that fine with you?"

"Fine with?"

"Falling in love with me in the future."

"Yeah there's not to love about you." Wonwoo said calmly as if it is a non brainer question. You put the popcorn on the coffee table.

You don't know what went on your mind. It is suddenly hazy. You turn to him while Wonwoo is watching Rosie confess.

"I want to know something."

"Shoot."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Okay." Wonwoo looked at you. Without anytime waster, you pulled him towards you and kiss him. It took few seconds for Wonwoo to respond. His hand grab your neck to deepen the kiss. You were never kissed like this before.

You pulled away to breathe. He rested his forehead to yours before giving you a peck.

"Was it that you want to know?" He asked you with breathy voice. You stood up before you were completely trap by the spell he puts you in.

"Oh look. It's late. I have a bus to catch on tomorrow morning." You pick up your phone and ran towards the door. "Merry Christmas, Wonwoo!"

Your curiousity is satisfied. You just learned that Wonwoo has the ability to make your heart go crazy and your heart is ridiculously beating for him.

But no, you don't need love as senior college student clinging on scholarship. You set aside the feelings and burried it the whole holiday season.

It was the first but certainly not the last kiss you shared with Wonwoo as friends.

2019 July

Drinks flowing as the campus celebrated the night before the graduation ceremony. Everyone is inebriated as well as you and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo never left your side and his free arm is stucked in either your waist or shoulder. Both of you were laughing like idiots at the corner of your batchmate's house, you legs resting on his lap and your head on his shoulder. The party music blaring in the whole house.

When the laughter between the two of you ensued, you both notice how there is almost no distance between the two of you. You can smell the beer and his musky perfume.

Wonwoo raised your chin and you can see the hesitation in his eyes. You held his hand and took this as a sign. He kissed you tenderly. A little bit sloppy but you can feel his yearning as if he is scared that he will be losing you.

Once you are both out of breath, you rested your head on his chest. Hands still intertwined.

"Y/N" Wonwoo called you. You hummed against his chest. He felt that he has the whole world. He is nervous but it feels like a now or never situation. "Have I told you that I love you?"

He waited for a response but nothing came out from you. Wonwoo looked down just to see you sleeping on him.

Present

If he told the 2019 Jeon Wonwoo that he will end up marrying you, his old self will never believe it. If he told his past self that you both spent the night of your wedding playing board games, his old self will laugh at him for being loser.

He is happy and content for what he has right now. His confession can wait.

Right now, you enjoy defeating Wonwoo in every scrabble round. Your heart beats like first time you both kissed. Just like the first time you kissed, you wanted to put aside your feelings and focus on the pressing matters at hand.

Next

[tw33k-tucker]

Doodle requests are open‼️

The series characters I can draw the best(In order) are:

South Park, Eddsworld, Creepypasta, n' SMG4

Just a some things about me(changes/updates so much)

Fictionkin of:

Tweek Tweak

Craig Tucker

Kyle Broflovski

Kenny McCormick

Stan Marsh (South Park)

Mickey (Bobs Burgers)

Carl Grimes

Daryl Dixon (TWD) (I'm 99% sure I am a Fictionkin of him👍)

Gregory House (House M.D.)

Lucifer

Vox

Husk

Angel Dust (Hazbin hotel)

Sniper

Medic {Pls, istg I'm not insane anymore, I swear😭} (TF2)

Tord (Eddsworld)

Shadow ( Sonic, but not sure which specific Sonic yet)

Questioning 2

+ I have also found out I am a fictionflicker, so if there's some kins I have that aren't on the list above that's why👍 I do have a few recurring fictionflickers though, Such as:

Hunter (TOH)

Michael Afton (FNAF)

Crying Child/BV/Evan Afton (FNAF 4)

Tom (Eddsworld)

Adam (Hazbin Hotel)

SMG3 + Mr Puzzles (SMG4)

Ticci Toby

BEN Drowned + Jeff The Killer (Creepypasta)

Scout/Jeremy(TF2)

Louise (Bobs Burgers)

Therian but not completely comfortable to reveal some of my Theriotypes, but the ones I'm fine with revealing are a Border Collie, Island Fox, Clouded leopard, Red Panda, Some kind of Shark, Bi Color german shepherd, and an Opossum.

Current Shifts/Kinfeels:

Tweek Tweak

Craig Tucker

Scout/Jeremy

Ticci Toby

He/Him (Trans FTM/Masc)

Minor !! (I'm changing it to minor cause I only want the people close to me/my mutuals to know my age, sorry if its weird or smthn!!!)

Christan (but excepts any religion)

Favorite Animal is Guinea pigs

2nd favorite drink is coffee (My #1 favorite drink is water cause I need it to survive)

Top 5 Favorite songs:

1st: Runs in the family - Amanda Palmer

2nd: Life - Mother Mother

3rd: Animals - STOMACH BOOK

4th: Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

5th: Cupid's Chokehold / Breakfast In America - Gym Class Heros

(it was top 10 before, but I'm to lazy for that crap)

A few last random shit facts 'bout me + some random things

I am very scared of alarms(Like, fire alarms)

I have Trypophobia aka fear of holes(it's very bad)

I have a love hate relationship with insects

I'm AroAce but I still want a romantic relationship and Bi

Wolverine is my all-time favorite hero(I don't care that he's technically an anti-hero/also an X-Men, he's the best)

Black and Red are my favorite colors

HTTYD is my favorite movie series

I love Scooby Doo(Especially Mystery Incorporated)

I am a mix of Introverted and Extroverted

I swear I wanna cry when stuff I've been waiting for is altered(Don't ask, I have no idea why)

I have anxiety

I freak out VERY easily

Salamanders are so cool istg

I have sensitive ears so I hate loud noises(I think I'm just a wimp)

I was in a car crash when I was 8(Luckily me and my dad were fine)

I like Diary of a wimpy kid

I have an older brother that I fight with(Imagine Rodrick and Greg's rivalry)

Some noises also make me want to bawl my eyes out(Also don't ask why, I seriously don't know)

I will 'kill' you if you look in my sketchbook(I swear you do not wanna see it, like really, you do NOT)

I have social anxiety👍

I'm seriously fucked up in the brain

I have asthma

I have OCD and BPD

And also i've decided to make tags because it is so annoying trying to find certain posts. So: the art tag is #Tw33k Draws the ask tag is #Tw33ks asks and I also use #Tw33k Rambles when I'm just talking and then as well theres just the #Shitpost tag on the posts I post that have words or images that isn't art, I also #Tw33k Rants, I think that name is pretty self explanatory, I also don't add tags to like any of the stuff I reblog unless I'm talking in the tags

I'm horrible at spelling

And yeah, that's all I'm willing to tell

Also please don't hate me, I can't control who I am

Thanks for reading

Random Icons :D

Okay! One last thing, sense I have started the Zombie Park series, you can ask them questions about litterly ANYTHING some stuff they might not be allowed to answer at the moment like some stuff that'll happen in the future, but if you have any questions about the AU feel free to ask

[lilbittymonster]

holds up a very tired peace sign

Final roundup thoughts are that Dawntrail was a nice expansion. It wasn't amazing. It wasn't awful. I won't be up at night thinking about it. I won't be calling it the worst expansion ever. It was just....nice.

It told the story it wanted to tell very neatly. The writing has really bounced back from the nightmare of pacing issues that Endwalker had. The stakes were raised in a gradual and believable way. All it's loose threads were woven together neatly by the end. Wuk Lamat had a strong positive character arc without sacrificing her core personality. Koana had the necessary growth to realise that innovation and progress are not at odds with tradition. I think they compliment each other's weak points well.

Most of my nitpicking about the expansion lies in how the writers seemed to be trying to make a WoL x Wuk Lamat....thing happen, and I very much did not care for it At All. It's the same problem that I have with how the Exarch is written in ShB where we cannot say 'no' to him at any point. And frankly, being able to say 'no' is not something that would make the story come to a screeching halt. That's just lazy writing. I would have preferred if we were given dialogue options that gave us more agency in how we interacted with Wuk Lamat. Because the whole forced "we're family now :) you can call me Lamaty'i :)" was REALLY rubbing me the wrong way because, again, there was no way out! I could not at any point say "no, Wuk Lamat, I do not see you as family, you are assuming a level of relation here that just doesn't exist." Kitali wouold have flat out told her "no I'm not calling you that, we aren't family" and no amount of sad wet kitty eyes from Wuk Lamat could make her budge.

Kitali did not want to be here in the first place. She didn't sign on to be a participant in yet another political struggle. She was here with her husband on vacation and to keep an eye on the twins. That's it. And that's what she does for most of the early succession arc. She only gets called into the MSQ when the kidnapping happens, and she and Thancred are off doing their rogue shit together. She and Aymeric stick with the group until the end of the Valigarmanda trial, and after that she goes back to ignoring the political machinations.

It was Aymeric who dragged them along to Yak T'el, and Kitali wound up spending more time with the vipers than anything else. I haven't been bothered to actually level the job, but it's yet another dual wielding job to add to her repertoire, she'll be fine at viper day camp while the MSQ happens. And making sure Aymeric doesn't die of spice while they're there. He's gotten better but he is still very Ishgardian. Kitali would have been more interested in exploring the Ja Tiika forest and wallowing in her nostalgia for Rak'tika than anything else. They aren't there for the blessed siblings lore dump, but they tag along for the Skydeep Cenote dungeon as backup.

There is not nearly enough Estinien in this expansion for my tastes but at least I know what he's doing once he leaves Sunperch, so that makes my job easier.

I'm sure I'll waffle back and forth a bit on it by the time I actually get around to replaying it and writing out fic for it, and by the pace I'm going at it'll be several years from now, but it makes the most sense to me for Aymeric to remain behind in Tuliyollal following the attack. He isn't there for a lot of the Solution 9/Heritage Found stuff and they wouldn't see each other again til the final zone. He and Estinien would be sharing guard duty at the gate waiting for Kitali to come back through.

I kind of enjoyed not having Kitali be the main character of the expansion the same way she wasn't the main character in Stormblood. I really don't feel like it had to be the Warrior of Light with Wuk Lamat for the trials of succession arc. It just needed to be a strong adventurer. And even once the plot twists kicked up, we still weren't the main character, but being the WoL and our past experiences did end up being important enough to necessitate our presence. Compared to the previous two expansions, it was such a weight off Kitali's shoulders. Still, again with the "the whole world depends on me to save it" exhaustion, but lighter in comparison.

And Wuk Lamat ended up being the one to actually save it with the power of friendship. Love that for her. I'm glad that they kept her characterisation solid throughout the whole expansion.

I don't have any true investment in the expansion. I enjoyed it, but I'm more interested in the little bits and pieces about the future of interdimentional travel that they've been poking at since ShB ended. And if I'm being honest I think I'm starting to burn out on the game entirely. I've been meaning to replay some other games for a while now, and I think I need to take the time to do that and recharge.

I'll end this post with the best screenshot of the game.

He's gonna be a great dad some day.

[farfromstrange]

Hello!

I read Angel on the Roof and that was AMAZING. I was feeling like that way and honestly that was exactly what I needed to read. Thank you for writing!

I have a request! Maybe alternate ending + sequel of the fic if you are interested/have time, where Matt did notice it and in this universe it’s going to be more comforting. OR maybe whole new story where reader is having mental illness, angst but comfort in the end?

Again I LOVE your writing can’t wait for another Matt fics!!! Thank youuuu !!!

Okay, nonnie, first of all, I hope you're doing okay! I hope you're feeling better, too. I know how hard it can be to feel this way and I wrote that fic when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I'm glad you liked it, but I also hope you're taking good care of yourself! I love you. Now to your request, I re-read Angel On The Roof and I remembered why it was so sad, and I'm so glad you requested a comfort version. I decided to do it from Reader's POV since the original was Matt's POV and I've changed the ending, so it's still the same foundation, but you've also got a whole new fic. I hope you like the way I did it!

Angel On The Roof (Your Version)

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (she/her)

Summary: What if Matt saved you from your own demons instead of being too late?

Warnings: TW: SELF-HARM, graphic descriptions of self-harm, blood, scars, ANGST, mental illness, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fix it fic for a fic

Word Count: 3k

A/n: So you can read "Angel On The Roof" here. Like I said before, this is the mentioned fic from your POV but with a twist so that it ends without Reader committing suicide. If the above-mentioned topics trigger you, please don't read! Not tagging because this is a sensitive subject and I go really into detail.

18+ THIS IS HEAVY STUFF!

Mental illness speaks in silence. 

Unlike a broken leg, you can’t see a sickness of the mind. There is no physical proof for the scary truth that something is going not quite right inside of your brain. And because people can’t see it, they have a hard time believing the truth. They have a hard time believing that being sick in the head could even affect you this much, so they try to sell your pain as worth less than it is. How could thoughts possibly turn paralyzing? How could someone’s mind make them feel worthless to the point the affected person sees no other way out but to inflict pain onto themselves? Attention whores, it’s what those people like to call the struggling ones. Lazy, weak, selfish… every mentally ill person has heard one of those words being used to describe them one way or another. 

Mental illness speaks in silence because if we spoke louder, people would only sneer and turn their backs on us. Mental illness speaks in silence because suffering alone seems better than burdening someone else. And mental illness speaks in silence because those who are mentally ill live in a different world. Their heads work differently. Mental illness speaks in silence because pain paralyzes, and silent acts are the only way someone so stuck in the claws of the faceless monster knows how to ask for help. By the time people consider questioning certain behavior though, it is often too late, and the person soon enough feels as if they’re being a burden once more because the judging looks are worse than admitting you need help in the first place. 

The monster that is mental illness is cruel and it has no regard for you or the people around you. It has set out to destroy you, and you feel helpless as it tears a knife through your soul and picks your heart apart piece by piece. And those who say, ‘Just ask for help’ or ‘Don’t be scared to speak up’ clearly don’t know how hard it can be to break out of such a circle once you’re already active in it. 

Self-harm is considered a serious addiction on the roster, but most people see it merely as a symptom of many personality disorders or mood disorders. Those who seemingly know nothing about mental illness even like to call it a call for attention. As if self-mutilation would ever be a conscious choice made by anyone. You try to fight a pain that no one can see and only you can feel, and sometimes, when you feel so much - too much - it gets deafening and you need another pain to balance it out. 

Drugs aren’t the only thing hurting you that can result in addiction. There is a long list of things that harm the mind and body, and that is often used as a coping mechanism for the terrible things most people are forced to feel inside. 

You don’t remember when it started. You only remember that you were merely a child when you first started feeling this way. Helpless, alone, and with a pain deep inside of your chest that had claws and sharp teeth, ready to eat you whole. The monster ate away at you for years, but you ignored it. 

People told you it was just hormones, that this was part of growing up. Meanwhile, you only got sicker. Your mind turned against you. You became your own worst bully, and the voices in your head started taking you apart one by one. 

You reached a point where you loathed yourself so much, all you wanted was to scratch your eyes out and tear your skin off. You hated looking in the mirror and seeing the same miserable face every day. You hated being the friend that was the least fun and being stuck inside with this hurt consuming you. It made it harder to breathe, it made your heart stop in your chest, and yet you never physically died. Inside, you were long gone, but you ignored it because no one seemed to care. 

You tried drugs and alcohol, but that wasn’t enough to kill your pain, and you never fully managed to end it all. Your existence became a nuisance. 

You never believed in God. The constant self-pity, shame, guilt, and blame became your best friends. In your mind, you fucked up your own life. Your mind was fucked up, so you were automatically at fault. You ended up being in so much blood-boiling pain, you tried to find a way to inflict pain in other ways to distract you from the numbness that burned your insides like acid would burn the cells of your skin in an instant, and the toxic waste ended up in your bloodstream, then your mind and in the end, it poisoned your heart and your soul. 

You truly believed you were rotten inside, and there was nothing that seemed to help.

You turned to cutting, the blood running from your wrists a testament to your pain, and it made breathing so much easier for just a moment. The razor blades were the brush with which you painted the tiles of your bathroom floor red almost every night. You weren’t proud of it, but you had no one to listen, no one to help you and you just felt so fucking numb– You had to find something to relieve you of this pain for a simple moment, and a moment was all it took to get you hooked on the feeling. It was a different kind of pain, and your wrists looked mutilated, even long after you were done, but whenever you brushed over the scars, you felt the need to do it again, and so you did. 

One summer night, you found your way to one of the rooftops in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t want to jump, but having the choice to do so filled your body with a certain sense of relief. If you had jumped, you would have died. You could have broken your neck and ended it all. You would have died on your way down already, probably, or maybe you would have passed out. 

The world seemed so small from up there, but you were still alone. 

That night, you felt his presence for the first time. He wore a black mask; you had seen him on the news a while back, but word on the streets had it that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen disappeared. After Wilson Fisk got imprisoned, he must have found his way back. 

“I don’t want to jump,” you assured him. “I just want to feel.” It wasn’t a lie. Your heart beat slow and steady in your chest and against your ribcage. The wind in your hair cooled the sheen of sweat from the early summer heat. 

He didn’t talk, he simply stood by your side. You were too tired to ask him why. When you sat down, he followed shoulder to shoulder, together. Your tears had dried on your cheeks and you watched the clouds pass by, hide and reveal new stars, and you pointed out the constellations in your head. He wouldn’t let you fall, it seemed, and so you simply stayed there. It was the first time someone seemed to care without trying to fix you. 

You were okay.

He walked you home before sunrise and asked you again, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” you answered. In the moment, you usually were. 

You smiled and thanked him, and he told you, “If you ever need to talk, well… you know I’ll find you if you call for me.”

One day, after finding you on the roof again (at this point, you weren’t sure why you were doing it anymore), it started to rain. He offered to walk you home and asked you if you were okay again. You offered him to stay. 

“Who hurt you?” he asked you once you bid him inside. 

You brewed some tea, offering him a mug. He took it. You shrugged as an answer to his question. The numbness settled back in. You had no tears left to shed. Did he care? You weren’t sure. People often liked to ask for no reason whatsoever, and you knew if you told them, they would have called you crazy. 

“I hurt myself,” you said. 

He caught your wrist when you tried to walk away. His fingers dug into the fresh scars without trying to, but it hurt and it functioned as a cruel reminder of what your arms looked like. Of what you did. Instead of numbness, what you felt was guilt, and when his mouth contorted, you knew he realized something wasn’t right. 

You were so stupid, you thought and pulled away from him. How could anyone ever care or love a broken mess of nothingness like you? You weren’t worthy of anyone’s affection. This – the scars on your wrists and the hole in your chest – was what you deserved. 

He didn’t run though. The stranger tilted his head as if to understand you.

“Why?” he asked. 

It made you think. Why, exactly, were you doing this? 

“Because I need to feel something other than this pain that is numbing me,” you admitted. 

You were so honest with him that night, and it seemed to surprise him, but he also listened to every last word coming out of your mouth. 

He let go of your wrist then and said, “Have you ever asked someone for help?” 

“Why would I?” you asked. 

“Because there are people who can help when you’re hurting.” 

Fixing you, that was what he meant. There were people who could fix you, but you didn’t want to be fixed. You couldn’t be fixed. Everyone always tried to fix you and you were so sick and tired of being the one everyone deemed broken all the time. 

“Perhaps you should go,” you said and opened the door for him. You had to end it there. 

One night, you cut too deep, and the world caved in on you. You had no choice but to endure it, but you broke under the weight like a fragile vase. You cut too deep, and the blood mingled on the floor with your tears. It hurt – the cuts weren’t the worst part because they only thudded numbly in sync with your pulse; the worst part was the bomb in your chest exploding and sending all these feelings hurdling around. 

God, you hated yourself. 

You always kept your windows unlocked. What you didn’t expect was for him to climb through your window. Only when he kicked the door down did you look up, your face stained with tears. He tilted his head, seemingly smelling the air, before he knelt beside you and wrapped towels around your bleeding wrists. The essence of your heart was on the floor now, the vase broken, and he cleaned it up without hesitation. 

You didn’t deserve such gentle treatment. 

You sobbed into his strong arms until there was nothing left to give. Instead of leaving though, he stayed. He took you to bed and bandaged your wrists, still keeping the black mask right where it was. It was you curious, and you hadn’t felt curious in quite a while. 

He stopped the bleeding without problems, and then he lay beside you as you regained some sense of self. 

“Why do you keep doing it?” he asked eventually. His finger ran over the bandage he had applied earlier. “Why do you keep hurting yourself?”

You shivered. “It wouldn’t make sense even if I told you,” you said. 

Because even to you, it didn’t make sense.

“Try me.”

“No, you wouldn’t understand. You barely even know me and I don’t know you. Why do you keep doing this, D?”

“Matthew,” he told her. “That is my name.”

It was the first display of trust he showed you, and you were a little taken aback. 

Your lips parted and you whispered your name into the darkness. He smiled softly, taking your weak hand into his.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. 

You stared at him for a while before asking something that almost came naturally. “Can you stay?” your voice was barely above a whisper. 

He battled with himself before giving in, agreeing to stay, and you felt something in your heart turn around. A candle was lit. Was that the scent of hope you could smell? You weren’t sure, but the fact he held your hand as you tried to find your way into a restless sleep and never once waivered with his support filled you with a sense of safety, and finally, for once in your life, the voices went quiet. You focused on his heartbeat and breathing, and you finally felt less alone. 

The next morning, your window was closed again and he was gone, probably disappearing in the middle of the night. You found a note on the dining table, poorly scribbled, but you could decipher what he wrote. 

It’s because I care about you, Angel.

He cared. About you. You broke down crying, not used to this much affection, but it was also then you realized that it was what you desperately needed. 

You looked at your bandaged wrist, then your reflection in the metallic shimmer of your fridge, and you made a decision you should have made from the beginning. 

You waited on the rooftop again that night, this time the one of your apartment complex. He appeared not long after you whispered his name into the humid night air. Cars passed by and the city grew louder by the minute, but he still came. 

He wore his mask again. 

“Will I ever see your face?” you wondered aloud.

He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen knowingly never did home visits. 

“Can you see mine?” you asked. 

“No,” he said. “I can’t see yours.”

Your breath shuddered. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You changed something in me last night.”

Matthew seemed to pipe up at your admission, and he took a step closer. “Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“What did I change?”

“You saved my life.”

“I only came because you needed someone.”

You asked, “Is that why you always come to these rooftops?” 

He shrugged. “You call, I come,” Matthew said. “That’s all there is to it.”

But it wasn’t all. 

With a weak sniffle, you closed the distance between you and fell into his arms. He caught you, holding you close to him. His heart thudded in your ear like the night before, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Years of pain, sadness, and anger fell off your shoulders, leaving you even more broken than before, but for the first time, you felt it all. And you knew you couldn’t live like this any longer. 

“I need–” you choked on a sob. It burned in your lungs. 

His grip tightened. “What do you need, Angel?”

“I need help,” it was the first time you said it, but the moment the words left your mouth, Matthew vowed to stay by your side. 

That night, he took his mask off for the first time after taking you home. You saw his face, and you felt a sense of relief. He was beautiful, inside and out, but he was also incredibly human. His blind eyes were unfocused, but you only touched his cheek with tender fingers. You owed him your life, and you made sure to show him that. 

“Matt Murdock,” he introduced himself. 

You gave him the courtesy of doing the same. 

He smiled, and you saw something in his eyes that would end up changing your entire life. 

Love. 

That cruel time of finding back to yourself after years of self-harm and depression is in the past, it has been for a while now.

The sun stands high in the sky above New York. A long time ago, summer filled you with dread. As you’re staring out through the windows of your home now, all you can think about is how beautiful the world is. The city stands tall in the distance, and you find yourself smiling into your cup of chamomile tea. 

The light reflects off the golden wedding band on your ring finger. Your name stands in Braille letters next to his with a heart of diamonds. It’s unique, special, just like your love story. 

When you first met him, you never thought you would end up here, but he woke you up from your coma and you found your way back to the light. He helped you, he supported you and he made sure you would always have someone to turn to. 

Years later now, you’re wearing his name and ring on your finger, and you have a home that truly feels like one because he is in it with you. He is your home, your haven, your sanctuary, and you owe him more than he will ever know. 

A pair of arms snakes around your waist and pull you back into a sturdy chest. You smile even more. “Hi,” you whisper. 

Matt presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hi,” he says. 

“The sun is out.”

“I know, I can feel it.”

“Right. Even after all these years, I still tend to forget I’m married to a superhero,” you say, albeit teasing, but your words also hold a mountain of truth. 

He chuckles. “You’re forgiven, Mrs. Murdock.”

“Oh, I’m glad.”

Matt’s hold on you tightens. Now that he has you, he refuses to let you go. “What were you thinking about just then?” he asks. 

You lick your lips, closing your eyes as your body melts into his almost naturally. “You and me,” you say, “and how far we’ve come.”

“Mhm.”

“And that I can’t wait to start a family with you one day and give our children the support I’ve never had.”

He tears up a little at that, you can hear it in his voice when he whispers, “I love you,” and he turns you around to capture your lips in a loving kiss. 

You realize it then for the millionth time since that night you first ran into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on the roof; Getting help was the best choice of your life, and no scar on his or your body matter now that you’ve got each other.

You belong in each other’s arms, today, tomorrow, and forever and always. Just like you said in your vows – there is nothing you can’t overcome, as long as you’re doing it together. 

[lillambtotheslaughter]

HI HI \(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/ and welcome to my blog! You may know me from my main blog @lelandmylove but here in this blog I mainly focus on posting about my Tcsm OCs ☀️Cindy Mayfield☀️ and 🪻Jolene Olight🪻!

There will be NO NSFW on this page but light flirting with the OCs here and there won't hurt! If you don't like my page and what I post simply block me or don't interact with my page! Tw for violence, murder, injuries, cannibalism, self harm, being force fed, Child abuse, and Emotional abuse and yeah while I'm not really that confident in my writing this is just a head ups of what will be shown on this page.

Rules for this blog

• Obviously no spreading hate

• Don't use my characters without asking me first or notifying me that you will be using them for something

• DON'T BE WEIRD AND SEXUALIZE MY OC'S

• And most importantly just have fun here!

•THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR PEOPLE WHO SHIP ANY OF THE FAMILY MEMBERS TOGETHER GET THE FUCK OFF MY PAGE!

•Basic DNI

I will write (if I'm confident enough) and draw for my OCs here on this page and you are allowed to ask questions about any of them if you want! Now onto my OCs ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧

☀️ Cynthia (Cindy) Mayfield☀️

🏵️Mood board🏵️

Lore: (I'm sorry the creator himself doesn't even know unfortunately he's just making stuff up as he goes.)

🪻Jolene Olight🪻 (she does not use the swayers last name.)

🍇Mood board🍇

(Sorry the creator doesn't have his shit together so it's still being made😒)

Lore: (surprisingly the creator does have her lore but he's too lazy to fix it up and make it make more sense because he wrote it months ago half asleep) While coming back from a trip into town Nancy stumbled across what she thought to be an empty box abandoned on the side of the road but upon further inspection was surprised when she laid eyes on a few week old baby with the name "Jolene Olight" written on a small piece of paper taped onto the worn out blanket she was wrapped in. Thinking it was another one of "gods blessings" she carefully reached into the box, gently picking up the fragile baby girl and cradling it in her arms with a bright smile on her face deciding that she would keep it and raise it as her own just as she did with her Johnny. Upon taking her home with her Johnny was the first person to find out about the newest addition to the family, and of course being ten years old at the time wasn't all that happy about having a sibling he'd have to help take care of. But all that changed after a few years of having her as a sister, the two grew close during Jolene's childhood and from the moment she could walk Johnny started taking her with him on little hunts, teaching her how to sneak up on prey and capture rabbits and field mice. Even being there when she caught her very first hare and her very first kill when she turned 13. Later on he'd go on to gift her a switch blade he'd found off one of the victims bodies which is the same exact one she uses now in present times. While growing up in the house Jolene would often be left at the house with bubba and nubbins whenever a hunt was going on however instead of staying with them she would sneak off and stay with Grandpa the whole time talking to him about bugs and sometimes even complaining about Nancy and Johnny. Even though he wouldn't respond to her that didn't stop her from continuing to talk his head off all the way until she was picked up by Johnny to go back home where she would give his legs a hug and then run off to go home. While she isn't the strongest family member there or even the smartest her small and lean frame helps with her stamina allowing her to keep up with victims making sure to always give them a good chase. It's like a game of tag to her.

Ability (Savior): SAVIOR CAN ONLY BE ACTIVATED ONCE BLOOD BOTTLE IS FULL AND IF GRANDPA IS STUNNED. ONCE SAVIOR IS ACTIVATED GRANDPA AROMATICALLY GETS OUT OF THE STUNNED STATE NO LONGER HAVING TO WAIT FOR THE COOL DOWN AND BACK TO HIS ORIGINAL LEVEL HE WAS AT BEFORE BEING STUNNED. THIS ABILITY SAVIOR CAN ONLY BE USED TWICE THROUGH THE WHOLE GAME AND MUST BE USED WISELY FOR THOSE STICKY SITUATIONS. WOULDN'T WANT A VICTIM TO GET OFF THIS PROPERTY NOW WOULD WE?

(please be nice to the creator he will cry.)

[ninakuli]

Forgotten birthday

Bo Sinclair x reader

This probably suck bc I have long times not finished it. I'll be right back soon!! Love you guys!(maybe have chance to write another hurt comfort and some draw then I'll rest a little)

Special tag: @sh1n0o

Bo standing outside the door, he tidy up a little, then press the ring.

"Dumbass!! Go to fucking door check who is it!" "Alright alright!!" He can hear the other side of the door are shouting, then the door slide open, the sweetest smile show up his heart skipped a beat "Morning! Ah! Hi Bo! Ugh...sorry I don't know you'll coming today." "It's okay darlin'." "So why you come here?" When Bo just want to answer he be cut off by your parents shouting "Stupid thing come to help me!!! Don't being so lazy and useless." "Fine!!" You shout back.

"Sorry Bo this morning I little busy, come in and take a seat, I'm going to help my parents, they gonna go out..." "WHY YOU SO SLOW?? YOU WORM!!" "Sorry need to go..." You run away, Bo look around don't know what to do, He didn't like your parents so mean to you and your parents don't really like Bo, but they didn't care about you and Bo if you two not bother or affect them create chaos.

You run to your parents and help them take things, sometimes you really confused, like they have they own legs and just need to walk a few steps then get what they need why need you take it to them, and they just watch you do and scold you slow or something else. Now you just want to accompany Bo, you obsessed Bo a long times, he so charming, so attractive and it's a good friend too. When your mind wanders you be tripped and fall down, your palm and knees are hurt "Fuck..." You little curse.

"Oh God you dumb thing!! Look what you did?! My stuff all on floor, it's fucking mess." Your father grab your head roughly "Listen. I don't have any times play with you so if you fucked up one more time I'll let you get away from that boy, it's that clear?" You nods and clean up quickly, when you finished all work and watch your parents go out to work you immediately run to living room.

Bo sitting on the couch and look like thinking something, he noticed you come in, you sit next to him, he noticed your wounds.

He go to take the Aid-Kit, disinfect the wounds then gently bandage it.

"Sorry let you wait and help me bandage the wounds, so why you coming today?"

"You really don' know?" He raised a brow.

"Yeah. So why?" You confuses and he let out a laugh

"Well, you open this and you'll know." He take out a little box, you open it, a little beautiful cake is inside and it's your favorite flavor then there have a card write 'Happy Birthday' and stick on the cover. Shocked then quickly check today date.

"It's my birthday??!!!" "Yes it is silly." "Oh God thank you Bo thank you so much!!"

He watch you enjoy the cake then ask you want to go outside or not, you decide go out and take a walk with him.

He bring you to a little lake, clear and clean water, trees around, the cool breeze and tree shade chase out the sun heat, bird are singing, flowers are blooming, he take out a picnic mat and let you see, the view are beautiful and peaceful, cozy and brisk silence around.

You can't help but stare at him, his hair and lips look so soft, you careless wondering what feeling to touch, you want to touch him feeling his smell.

"Anythin' wrong darlin'?" His southern accent pull you back from the thinking, he turn his face toward you.

"Ah... nothing." You look away, then he grab your chin pull your sight back, his smirk show up.

"You sure?" "I'm sure." He think a moment and let go, you feel your cheeks and ears hotter than normal, you try to hide the shy and keep watching the view sometimes chat a little with him.

After a while the sun start playing hide and seek, Bo tidy up the thing then you two start walking back your home, at the middle he ask for buy some drinks.

"What you drink?" You ask him.

"I try new product, boba tea." "Cool!! Can I try?" "Sure." He took a sip, then he lips slap on yours, his finger climb on your chin and hint you open your mouth. You even can't register what happened, you open your mouth and he use his tongue push the pearl into your mouth, and let the milk tea flow into, after he make sure you close the mouth, he pull back.

"Taste good?" He chuckle.

The milk tea mix with his saliva in your mouth, sweet, fragrant. And the bouncy pearl diffusing brown sugar flavor.

You slowly nods, you feeling your brain overheat because the thing that just happened.

Along the road you two holding hands, sometimes stop a little buy some snacks or watching something, you really enjoy the time with him.

The sky turn all black, your smile in his eyes seem extraordinarily bright. He promise he definitely will try his best to protect this smile, and you too, you want to make Bo happy too. When you come back home and Bo help you set some stuff down, you found a note from your parents "These two days we won't come back, don't burn the house."

You stare at the note a moment.

"Wha' wrong darlin'?" You didn't notice Bo come to your side then took the note to see.

"Well, congrat, yer parents won't bother you these days." "Yeah, thanks." "Oh I help ya set the stuff, so maybe see you tomorrow?" "Wait!" You pull him by his wrist.

"Wha'?" "Can...can you stay with me?" You hesitate say out and you see Bo smirk.

"Well well. Of course darlin' but it's little too late, maybe we go to sleep?" "Sleep together?" "If ya want, I can sleep couch I won't mind." "We...we can sleep together on my bed..." Your heart are rushing, then Bo laugh.

He hug you to your room and set you at your bed, then he climb on bed with you. "Now sleep well birthday star." He drawl and lean close give you a good night kiss on the forehead "I'll take care ya." He gentle pets your back and humming a song... Then he make you fall asleep he stare at you. "I promise I'll protect you baby girl." He kiss your forehead again then rest into your hair, secretly planning tomorrow surprise for you.

[chaotic-super]

Get to know me!

Thanks @rustingcat for tagging me:)

[TAG SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KNOW AND/OR SOME OF YOUR BESTIES]

Favorite color: Sea moss green

Last song: Jolene (gay version) by Reinaeiry on YT. Recommend it.

Last movie: Hocus Pocus 2

Currently watching: Waiting for the new Doctor Who episodes to drop.

Other stuff i watched this year: Haven't really watched anything I've cared about this year. Mostly just waiting for stuff to be updated and rewatching old shows. The Office, B99, Supergirl, Lost, Doctor Who.

Shows I dropped this year: N/A

Currently reading: Fic- Lie To Me by Lovesastateofmind (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40441578/chapters/101311407)

Book - Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir

Currently listening to: Epic the musical and Greta Van Fleet.

Currently working on: A fic where Lena is a ghost hunter and Kara is a ghost.

Current obsession/s: Supercorp until the day I kick the bucket

Tagging - @fyonahmacnally @lovesastateofmind1 and @sssammich

I don't know if they've already done it but I'm too lazy to check.

[garaksapprentice]

New Post: Turning bedsheets into a wardrobe and other op shop thoughts

Originally posted on my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2023/09/turning-bedsheets-into-wardrobe.html

The Dilemma

When it comes to my clothes, I'm a remarkably lazy snob.

I want things that fit well. (This isn't an unreasonable thing to want, I feel.) I want comfortable fabrics that breathe, and don't end up smelling like a billy goat slept on them. (I swear, since starting T, I strip my shirts more often than I ever had to strip the cloth nappies.)

I want colours - black and white and grey don't count - that don't make me look dead. (When did all the t-shirts in the men's section become navy and olive?) And I want them to last longer than six months before they start a part-time internship in the mending box.

(The pile doth wax and the pile doth wane, but there's always a bloody pile.)

This short list is surprisingly difficult to achieve, off the rack. Anything that fits my shoulders won't fit my chest, and vice versa. The armscye is usually either comically large, or too small to fit my biceps. And pants? Let's just not go there. (Belts help. Kind of.)

I really dislike how polyester and other synthetics breathe (they don't), so I avoid them whenever I can. It's getting much harder to find clothes made of 100% natural fibres, whether new or second-hand.

Colours I have slightly more luck with - or I would, if the first two things didn't get in the way. Longevity is always an utter crapshoot. (Though I've found that wovens last longer than t-shirts.)

The Solution

Luckily, I know how to sew. I used to do it for a living. (Not clothes, mind - baby carriers. More structural, less technically complex.) My possess all the basic tools, a few of the extras, and a reasonable set of skills.

(I've been making clothes for the kids for years - they care a lot less about style and fit. And skirts are easy.)

So I'm taking a two-pronged approach to this dilemma. I'm practicing making things I actually like and will wear, and religiously patching my current wardrobe while I make replacements.

Making clothes, naturally, requires material. So instead of going to the op shop for clothes, I'm going for fabric. (I stopped buying new years ago, except for underwear, shoes, and the occasional really high quality item from places that at least pretend to pay their garment workers.) But my favourite deal-hunting section isn't sewing/craft - it's the linens.

Wait, what? Why?

Thrift store fabrics usually can't tell you what they're made from. (The staff get narky when you try to burn test the goods, sadly.) Plus there's just not that much of it. Bedding, tablecloths etc are donated far more frequently, and often still have their tags on them.

Now, you do have check for wear. Some donations look brand new, some have had a long life already. Check for pilling or thinner areas, especially in the middle of bedsheets (fitted ones are worse for this than flats). It's easier if you can hold things up to the light. Usually things in worse condition will be priced lower, but not always.

Why not buy clothes six sizes too large and chop them up to make new stuff?

I mean, you can. It's certainly a common choice, what with all the "thrift upcycle/refashion" videos and blogs and such out there dedicated to it. I personally don't, for the following reasons.

Care for people: I take the permaculture ethics seriously.

Have you ever really looked at the racks in an op shop? Piles of sizes S-L, much less outside of that. The bigger your meatsuit, the harder it is to find things that have a hope of fitting. Too bad if you hate stripes, or the fabric is itchy - if there's only two things in your size, then that's the choice you have. It sucks. (I am in no way body shaming here. Bodies do a lot of hard work for the people who live in them, and no one gets to judge anyone else's.)

I'm both outside the common sizes, and a weird enough shape to have trouble besides. And I've been broke enough that op shop clothes were a necessity, not a choice. I know what it's like to have to take what I could get as long as it fit "enough".

To me it is deeply unethical to take the few decent garments that are available for plus sized people, chop them up, and make something for me to wear out of them, when I can just as easily start with a sheet or a table cloth and achieve a similar result.

Efficient energy planning: I have limited time and brainpower available, and sometimes my executive dysfunction is bad. Like, "I'm eating peanut butter out of the jar for dinner because my brain has stopped" levels of bad.

Cutting up a garment, taking off buttons, and so on, adds several extra steps to a sewing project. Sometimes that's fine - in those situations, I have plenty of old clothes in the stash. More often, though, those extra steps completely derail me.

So I find it easier to start a project with what is essentially yardage. Even when I have to cut around stains, rips, or worn spots, it uses less cognitive capacity.

I also prefer rectangularly cut garments, and zero waste patterns that have you draw directly onto the fabric. These work better on something that started out life as a rectangle.

Use biological resources: Natural fibres are renewable. Mined ones are not. Where I can, I use the former. That's not to say I never use things with synthetic content - it's technically possible, but in practice hard as hell.

Produce no waste: I've still got a sizeable stash of acrylic knitting yarns, plus other bits and bobs, hanging around from before I made this commitment. Throwing them out or donating them (ie making them someone else's problem) won't actually fix things; I simply use them in appropriate projects, and when I replace them, I do so with things that fit my current ethical stance and needs.

But sheets are all plain white and boring!

I can see why you might think that. TV has done a lot of false advertising on that point. It is false. Trust me.

(Ignore the movies. Real sheets come in just about every colour you can think of.)

But, I know not everyone likes plain colours. What if you're madly in love with prints, or shirts with witty slogans on them? Well, besides the growing number of fancy sheets out there, might I interest you in the doona covers?

(The top right and bottom left are ex-doona covers. The rest are sheets.)

Or the fine art of embroidery?

(I shall have the most glorious shirt sleeves when I finish embroidering them.)

Or fabric painting?

(This is technically a mend, but I totally plan on doing similar to brand new things I make.)

Or the many different styles of natural dyeing?

(Soursobs from the local park, gently turning into dye liquor for some dyeing experiments.)

Or, if you've got lots of smaller or oddly shaped pieces of fabric hanging around, maybe some patchwork (all YouTube links)? It's not just coats and dressing gowns, either - you can patchwork jeans, trousers, dresses, shirts and more.

The point here is that fabric (and buttons, zips, thread, etc) doesn't have to be a thing you buy brand new. With time, patience, and a bit of luck, you can find everything you need to create great things second hand.

(Maybe I'll write a future post breaking down the costs of some of the things I've made...)

[gaast]

I didn't know posts like these still circulated... Got tagged by @cannibalise and am in a really good mood so I'm gonna play, lmao

Last song I listened to: "Modest Mouth," Neil Cicierega, Mouth Sounds.

Currently watching: What, like, a TV show? I haven't watched a TV show in years. I'm playing Tales of Hearts R and Link's Awakening DX HD, I'm reading The Infinite and the Divine, I'm writing about another grafting monster, I'm working on learning Django and Raspberry Pi stuff and related projects and also a stupid mod, and I'm looking for anyone who wants to hire a really expensive and lazy technical writer.

Sweet/savory/spicy: Everything has its time and its place. I will never take sides when three of the baddest bitches are pitted against each other. I've evolved beyond this.

Relationship status: I legitimately forgot this one until I was tagging because I was so excited to see what would come out of me for the next one. Anyway, I'm engaged.

Current obsession: AFK Journey and AFK Arena, maybe. Also, Python, modding Isaac, making really weird dumb involved elaborate jokes. I want Pando to be my obsession, though. I wanna be "the Pando ghost." Oh also autopsies, I haven't forgotten about autopsies!! Or anthropodermic bibliopegy!! Or esolangs!!! Or eels!!!! Fuck!!!!! I want to be obsessed with shit and I'm barely obsessed at all!!!! I feel like John Nash, I need to be a fucked up unmedicated freak in order to reach my full potential!!! I think Russel Crowe did a really good job in A Beautiful Mind but I fucking hate John Nash tbh. Also it fucking sucks that that film has to continue the trend of "electroconvulsive therapy is BAD uwu!!!" Fuck you. It has a fantastic success rate with only mild side effects. It isn't done like how the fucking film shows it. Imagine making A Beautiful Mind and still being an ableist about it. Oh wait a minute that's John Nash for you!!! Also while I'm talking about movies like this, one of my most hated films of all time is Rudy. I cannot STAND that movie. Look, I love Sean Astin. I love The Goonies. He does a great job in that role. But oh my fucking god if that's what Rudy was really like then I hate him so much. All of that effort. All of it. For what? The love of a father who only gives a fucking shit about FOOTBALL? I love football too but imagine VALIDATING the concept that you're only of worth to your PARENT if you FUCKING DEVOTE YOURSELF SOLELY TO THEIR ONLY INTEREST. The fucking dude didn't even CARE that his son actually fucking MADE the Fighting Irish unless he PLAYED and like, dude, it's FOOTBALL, your five-foot nothing son could get fucking KILLED out there, and he's doing it all for YOU, and you don't deserve it!!! But I'm mad at Rudy more!!! I hate him more!!!!! STOP TRYING TO PLEASE A MAN WHOSE DICK WILL NEVER BE DEEP ENOUGH IN YOUR THROAT. GROW THE FUCK UP. YOUR DAD SUCKS. HE SUCKS. YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST KISSED VINCE VAUGHN!!!!!!!!! God that movie blows. If you wanna watch a movie, fucking, watch, uh. I don't remember what movies I like. Fuck you.

Tagging: @monadolaguz, @babyraccy, @vendettagreen, @tmos-time, @geckobrains, @crowtrobot @torterracotta @izanameowe

[necroangelz]

🪽 & 💉 please。。

I'm gonna pretend this didn't take me like 2 weeks to respond to again

『 💉 』

a kin memory

as Monika from ddlc, i remember two timelines/lives! one timeline follows the canon events of the game where i was a sentient entity trapped within the game. in the other timeline, i was a human girl living in like, a normal world, except i suffered a huuuge breakdown from heavy stress. something in me snapped and i began to see the world as lifeless and flat, and i thought i was stuck in a simulation or video game of some sorts where everything and everyone was fake and i was the only real being. it was.... very hard, as you can probably guess, but with professional help and support from the other club members i got better

『 🪽 』

infodump about an oc

@yaoimurder hi squid I'm tagging uu here bc this is where i ramble about that vampire oc i mentioned ages ago, if uu remember that!!! read on if uu'd like (: my oc infodumps are very long and i mention almost EVERYTHING about them so uu can just read the basic info only lol

picrew one and two

her name is midah she is my babygirl. she's also my first (and only) empires SMP oc and i ship her w my f/o (mythicalsausage s1)!!

picture #1 is much more accurate to how midah looks but picture #2 includes details about midah not present in the other photo, such as her red vial necklace, flowers on her cheekbones, and silly little hat

since she's an oc for a series I'll mention stuff that some might not know about, im too lazy to explain everything though so if anyone's curious at all just ask :3

okay midah's backstory is a LIIITTLE murky bc i mainly use her for vague-daydreaming purposes. anyway shes an assassin sorceress who practices blood magic and other types of magic (such as offensive fire Magic that involves creating and manipulating white fire). i got the idea for her name from the line, "touch me, midas, make me part of your design," from my ordinary life. other than that though, her character/story doesn't have much connection to the mythology figure midas. it's just her name that's connected to him. her name is pronounced like midas without the "s", or like the name Micah.

midah is half vampire and half flower elf. i don't really have info on what a "flower elf" is exactly, i don't think i wrote down the info for that, but basically it's just. Elf type connected to Flowers. and flowers often grow on (and maybe in...) their bodies. this can be seen in the red roses that grow on midah's cheekbones. help me my brain is coming up with ideas fur this elf type as i type this but I'm too tired to really focus on that and too focused on finishing this rambles

shes brave, strong, self assured of her own capabilities, tbh for the most part she's a normal person with not much mental and emotional problems, and she cares deeply for those she loves (like a certain mythical j. sausage... aka my f/o ever) she cares deeply to the point of sacrifice but hey, anything for true love amirite... shes also usually the voice of logic and reason compared to sausage but she doesn't try to stop his antics (until his antics start getting a little... demonic.) she totally tops sausage btw. shes also older than him by a bit and she's much taller than him (she's like 7ft tall)

anyway midah isn't very affected by the sunlight BUT she does need to drink blood every now and then, otherwise she gets a bit Quirky (aggressive, uncontrollable monsterlike behavior, and also she starts feeling a lot of physical pain) blood is like a Huge thing for her. she can perform rituals using blood. she wears a vial of blood tied to a necklace for good luck. she has a special bond with the blood sheep

wait what the fuck is a blood sheep? they're creatures from empires SMP s1, particularly the mythland empire (cough cough, that's the main setting of midah's "story") basically they're just Minecraft sheep dyed red. but lorewise they're mysterious creatures who have inhabited mythland for a very long time. they exhibit erratic behavior and sometimes display aggression to other beings. their blood and guts are also very useful for rituals! the blood sheep like midah a lot. they follow her around and nuzzle her like docile farm sheep and sometimes she can communicate with them and they follow her orders. they also protect her FIERCELY against anyone

the vial midah wears around her neck is filled with the blood of a sacrificed blood sheep. she wears it for good luck but replaces it every now and then because the luck can degrade and eventually attract bad luck instead

so yeah i have a lot of different storylines i imagined for midah and ill try to go over them briefly (I'll totally not type like 6 more paragraphs)

- backstory #1 explaining how sausage and midah met: midah moves to mythland and works there as a regular farmer at first and then attempts to join the assassin's guild managed by sausage. she expresses interest in being an assassin and spy. sausage is unsure of her at first,but hes intrigued by her, so he tests her with an easy normal mission: assassinating codfather Jimmy in the empire next door and bringing back his head. yeah that's totally not, like, the beginning of a war and political feud or something. so midah sneaks to the codlands, successfully kills Jimmy, returns with his head, and gets accepted into the guild. at the beginning of this backstory she puts on this facade of a totally unassuming and regular citizen who doesn't seem to have any fighting capabilities, let alone the capability to fight with magic and perform rituals, but then time passes and more and more is revealed about her and it's like Wow she's not who she seems to be. at all. and she quits her farmer job and goes all in on the assassin gig but does other stuff on the side too. and falls in love with saus along the way LOL

- midah x saus backstory #2: they're ~ childhood friends ~ who have been separated for like more than a decade and reunite when midah moves back to mythland. (i envisioned this scene in my head actually—a few days before returning to mythland, midah sends sausage tons and tons of letters sealed within a thick envelope, talking about her plans to return to mythland and why. and also updating him on what's been going on in her life the past decade or so. then on the day she arrives in mythland, they have one of those cute cliche scenes where they run towards each other on a long path and hug each other at the middle. and they cry a bit and talk and marvel about how long its been since they last saw each other. its really sweet ugh)

in this backstory midah was actually part of one of mythland's noble families. i made up some lore where mythland used to be ruled by four noble families (among them were house sausage, which is where sausage comes from duh, and house lavendar, where midah comes from, and yea it's intentionally spelled that way). the noble families/houses went to war with each other for power over mythland and the other two houses were defeated. most members of house lavendar left of their own accord and the rest that remained renounced their noble lineage, leaving house sausage who became the ruling family of mythland. the members of house lavendar specialized in blood magic and a lot of advanced complex blood spells were created by them. hence they have connections to the blood sheep in some way.

i like the longtime friends/allies to lovers dynamic that's going on in backstory #2 (: backstory #1 is still cool in its own way, strangers to lovers is nice, getting to know each other on purpose bc uu find each other intriguing is nice, even though uu might think uur very different people at first, uu get to know the other person a bit more and uu find out things about them and uu realize uur not so different after all ^_^ i read smtg about that once, about loving each other on purpose and choosing to love each other even though uu don't have years and years of history with the other person, and uu grew up completely without them and uur roots aren't tangled with theirs. but still uu love them. and that's very beautiful

okay umm this is getting to be a lot lol i think I'll cap it here, maybe the next time someone sends a 🪽 emoji I'll do a pt2 bc i still have more to say LOL