#group is sad for a bit

[xxwitchylanexx]

Smooth Sailing... Or Maybe Not Cloud x Reader *NEW SCENE AT THE END*

Rebirth Retold Chapter 8

All aboard the Shinra-8.

No major plot spoilers

Chapter 9

Masterlist

*~*

“Guys, Y/n isn’t here yet.” Aerith said as the ramp to the hold folded back into the dock.

Cloud swiveled around immediately to scan the surrounding docks for any sign of you, his ribs restricted around his ribs as he searched proved futile. He felt compelled to act, to do something, besides stare out at the empty berth as it grew smaller and smaller. He should have asked you how you planned to board when he saw you in the street, but he was too hung up on the energy that thrummed between you. Gods, how he wanted to impress you with the parade routine, and now he’ll never know if you enjoyed it.

Now he was just angry, frustrated, and disappointed. It wasn’t for that ninja your group would’ve been safe from Shinra’s forces. He could’ve met you, and everyone else, at the docks and board together. He knew deep down he should've looked for you in the first place instead of running around in the chaos and fending for himself. He just thought if he drew the attention to himself everyone else would have had an easier time to sneak on. Instead, he's standing on the tail end of the boat watching as Junon became a shadow, and then melting into the sea. “Shit.” Guess that’s that then.

“We could go back.” Tifa said, even though she knew going back wasn't an option. Her knit brows and downcast eyes mirrored the storm brewing inside.

“No, they’ll be looking for us. It’d be better for her if we just moved on.” He turned, proverbaly putting how he felt about you in the past, and started for the open door. Aerith opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. It was done. There was no going back. “No use standing around. Let’s go.” His hands clenched at his sides as his two friends shared a look of concern with one another, the duo adding fuel on the fire. He’s sick of everyone trying to poke their noses where they didn’t belong.

It's not like he didn’t want to go back, cause he did, but doing so would be a suicide mission for them, and as if right now you weren’t connected to them. Going back would probably put you on their radar. They could wait in Costa Del Sol, but every minute he wasted gave Sephiroth the chance to hurt more people, fuck, hurt the planet.

“Damn shame.” Barret says as he pushed one of the shipment crates to the side. “That girl had skill. I tell ya, we were clear on the otha side of the crowd ‘n she came running in, grabbed my arm, and shot that damn throwing star. Saved Shinra’s slimy ass.”

“Wow,” Aerith whispered under her breath, “That’s impressive.” Her usual mirthful personally now dejected despite her attempt to ease the bleak vibe in their team. “I guess we’ll have to rely on you for all our sharp shooting needs now.” Generally, Cloud took more delight in the jabs directed at Barret, mostly cause they weren’t at himself, but he just didn’t have it in him to see the amusement.

“Hey!” Barret yelled in objection as Aerith smiled sadly to herself. You’d have chimed in too. Any opportunity you had you’d take to give the big guy hell. Another thing he’ll miss.

“I sure hope she’s alright.” Tifa spoke quietly to herself, from Cloud’s side. You would be. He didn’t doubt that your skills were almost on par with a soldier.

“You should be more worried about us.” Cloud said firmly as he shot them with a sharp glare. “Now focus.” It was better this way; is what he told himself. He could finally concentrate in battle without the overwhelming urge to watch you fight. He wouldn't have to figure out the barrage of new sensations that came along with being near you, or brave through the vulnerability that he’d, no doubt, one day share with you.

Once again that small bleek voice in his head whispered from the depths of his soul: If it was better why do I feel so empty?

*~*

The sticky humid sea air smacked Cloud immediately the moment he emerged from the cool air conditioning of the second class cabins onto the balcony that oversaw the entertainment hall. The open design to allow easy access to the deck was nice for people that wanted to meander between shade and the sun, but that also meant the temperature wasn’t control and the irrepressible pungentness of fish and brine couldn’t be eliminated. Junon had reeked of it too, however there were restaurants, cars, and pollution to mask the smell.

The overhead sound system trumpeted through every speaker installed on the ship. Some tournament, for the new card game that everyone was raving about, was announced. The people around him must have felt the spark of excitement: bouncing on their heels, loud voices, even an occasional squeal could be heard. Cloud passed through hoards of vacationers in their tacky palm shirts and beach wear, as he pushed through to the information center, among other services, in the center of the room to reconvene with the rest of his friends.

To be honest everything just felt so far away. The faces he passed, the conversations around him that weren't very private, everything just blurred into his surroundings. His usually sharp mind and pristine attention to detail were glued on the last moments he’d shared with you. Every single second that he wasn’t focused on his current task his attention would wander back to the brush of your fingers on his neck to the hushed warnings you had said to keep him safe. In true frustrating fashion he couldn't seem to push you from his head. It was done. You were gone.

His fists clenched at his sides, the near silent crinkle of his gloves faintly reaching his senses, when the back corner finally entered his line of sight. They were all, except for Red who remained below deck for now, huddled into a corner near the largest archway that led to the open deck. They hunched over the tall round bar table to keep their discussion as private as possible. Tifa leaned over the wood with her elbows resting on the surface facing Aerith who stood as close to the table as possible. Barret being taller than the both of them just leaned his head down slightly to participate in this impromptu meeting.

He knew it was about him. It always was. Whenever he did something that felt more extreme to them than it did him. Every time he had a degradation episode they’d shy away and give him space. Meanwhile having a hush hush discussion on whether he was up to the task or not thinking that he couldn’t hear them with his enhanced senses. And this time they probably think him a robot for not expressing the shitshow of emotions going inside him. Like, fuck he missed you and it hasn’t even been a day. And it's none of their business.

The words died Tifa’s lips as she caught a sight of him, her hands retreating back her body before she gave herself an awkward hug. Barret didn't catch the hint as he slammed his palms against the word. Aerith elbowed him between the ribs to get him to shut up before he made it within earshot.

The air was tense, and his current frustration and irritation sat just beneath his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch. Tifa’s peering gaze felt invasive as she searched for any sign that he’d heard them, and he had half a mind to tell them off. They were supposed to be his friends and the idea that they were talking about him behind his back had him on edge. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just talking about Queen’s Blood.” Tifa answered, though from the way she refused to look at him told Cloud everything he needed to know.

“You going to enter, Cloud?” Aerith asked. Another diversion.

“Not interested.” He replied flatly.

“Oh come on!” Aerith insisted.

“It’ll be fun!” Tifa said in unison.

He scoffed. “Whatever.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’” Barret went to plant a meaty hand on his shoulder like always however this time knocked his hand away before he could touch him. He found himself yielding to their pressure despite wanting to be by himself. If participating got them off his back he suppose it'd be worth it and Odin knows he could use a distraction.

So he followed them to the line where they waited to register for the tournament. In the momentary moment of clarity he scanned the area like he always did, looking for exits, and security among other things. It was nearly his turn, just one pudgy balding man in front of him, when a faint blur of pale blue streaked across his peripheral. Faster than he could process his feet were chasing after the phantom of you, his heart thrashing against his ribs with every step closer, his eyes unmoving from his target, and please repeating through the only part of his brain that was operating.

He faintly acknowledged his friends shouting after him, asking what was wrong, before ultimately leaving the line themselves to follow him through every weave in and out of the masses. Nothing mattered except the possibility that you were here. Twenty feet, ten, five. His gloved hand reached out to touch the lithe woman not even a foot away from him, yet, he hesitated at last second. His hand froze in the space between you two as the moment seemed to stretch on. What if it wasn’t you? He could turn back right now, walk away and continue on his path, but… What if it was you? His hand reached out on its own, ghosting along the bare skin along your shoulder blade before settling firmly on your upper arm. “Hey.” His voice lower, more raw, than he’d intended.

The second felt like an eternity, his thoughts moving a thousand miles a minute as the woman turned. He could feel the rush of his blood pulse through his neck with every heartbeat, and could hear each breath echoing in his ears as he let your beauty pull him under like the tide. He was shocked into awe like that very first day only this time you were dressed like a gods damned goddess. His hands were clammy and his throat constricted around the lump in his throat. He felt unworthy to even stand near you. Each strand of hair was glowing under the slowly sinking sun as the locks slid over your shoulder and gathered in the dip of your spine. The slow brightening of your e/c irises as they met his made a thrill run down his spine. The curve of your lips parting ever so slightly as the edges spread short circuited his brain.

And all at once your gentle roar of laughter brought him back to gaia. You were laughing at him, he knew, but the little snort you made when trying to breath was so endearing that he didn’t care. Aerith and Tifa could tease him right in front of you and he wouldn't care cause you're here and safe where you belong. The other huddled behind him, cheering and pushing past him to hug you.

“Took you long enough.” You flicked him in the middle of his forehead. “I was starting to worry you guys didn’t make it.” You were like the Woodlands, he decided. Your voice was an easing wind like a cool night breeze rustling through the trees. A sensation he could only associate with you dancing along with hundreds of lightning bugs in the moonlight as it illuminated your hair much like the sunset did now.

As much as he was elated that you were not left behind, something was off about you. You looked a little faint, your natural s/c tinged with a faint green, and if you had been waiting for them why haven't you come looking? Why hadn’t you seen the four of them at the desk? You were only fifty feet away at the most. You were sharper than this.

“How the hell’d you get on this boat!” Barret's voice thundered over the questions in his head. Aerith brushed a few strands of your hair over your ear as she too searched your face for something afoot.

“I have a ticket.” You said blankly, you eyes blinking slowly at him. Barret huffed, unsatisfied with your answer. “Well, it’s more of a travel pass. I can board whenever I need to.” You closed your eyes, and pinched the bridge of your nose as you inhaled deeply. “Excuse me.” Cloud’s brow furrowed as a frown pulled at his lips. You pulled away from the girls, ignoring their pestering, and leaned over the railing. He nearly grabbed you to pull you closer again until the telltale sounds of miserable retching ensued over the side. Were you sick?

“Y/n, you okay?” Tifa asked as she rubbed your back.

You straightened back up, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and turned back to the conversation. “I, unfortunately, get severely seasick. So now that we all reunited, I’m going to find a room.” He sympathized with you. Before he became a soldier he too got all kinds of motion sickness: car, boat, plane- you name it he had it. “You guys should go enjoy yourselves.”

“And leave you all alone?” Aerith objected.

“Trust me. You don’t want to sit around and watch me barf for the next three days.” You paused, and swallowed thickly as you fought a wave of nausea. Your arm dropped to your stomach before pushing past them, and paused before turning with a forced smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Have fun.” Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than needed then turned and blended in with the crowd to isolate yourself for the three day journey. He doubted anyone else caught the corners of your mouth slanting downwards. Who were you trying to shield by suffering the weight of your feelings? Him, or yourself?

“Shall we, then?” Aerith asked a bit hesitant. Knowing her she'll probably track you down to keep you company later, after you've had some time to settle in. Tifa nodded along, nudging her shoulder into Aerith softly before the two of them wandered away to find a match for the tournament.

“Snap outta it, soldier boy.” Barret smacked his back with a reverberating thump. “Plenty o’ time to stare at ‘er later.”

Cloud huffed as the bulky man's loud boots eventually faded. He crossed his arms over his chest feeling a bit exposed. He has carefully crafted walls around himself over the years that kept his true thoughts, feelings, and insecurities guarded from the world. It felt unnatural to have everyone suddenly understanding him, especially since he wasn't sure he understood himself anymore. He shook his head and searched out the reception desk once more. Maybe a card game wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

Perhaps if your absence hadn't left him in a dreary haze he would’ve noticed the cold calculated brown eyes that invaded the heartwarming reunion. The harsh eyes honing in on you, in particular, with a wicked grin that could ensnare even the mightiest of heroes.

*~*

The crowd went wild as Cloud laid down the final card that secured his victory in the third round. He'd overcome Wize 3.0, Aerith, and now… her. Pride ran wild in his veins and a grin that was crafted from her own pompousness as she threw herself against her chair in faux distresses, the loose shoulder of her kimono slipping down another half inch to reveal her clavicle. He despised this woman. Wall Market dripped with shady lowlife and predators and as one of the Don’s top three, Madam M towered around casting stones to line her pockets. Her teasing, the smooth innuendos, her cold and uncaring demeanor; it made him sick. Luckily, or perhaps not, she’d taken a interest in him, otherwise they may not have had the chance to save Tifa, but only because she also profited off their deal.

“Fine. You win, Cloud.” She fanned lazily at her face, the black of her perfectly polished fingernails wrapped delicately around the accessory. “I have to hand it to you, though, that performance certainly hit all the right spots.” Her words were as thick as honey that oozed with lasciviousness. He’d roll his eyes if it wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of getting under his skin. Instead he stood from his chair and secured his sword to his back.

He had nothing to say to her and as thus he planned to move on to the fourth round contestant. That was until she snatched his forearm and yanked him backwards towards herself. “That girl you spoke with earlier- the h/c girl in the dreadfully bland blue dress. How is it you know her?”

He yanked his arm free, the feeling of her fingertips on his skin making his skin crawl, and hit her with one of his sharp stares that normally left the cocky assholes shaking in their boots. Naturally, it had no effect on her since she was so used to getting her way, but the twinkle on her dark orbs made him instantly regret responding at all. Hed fallen for the bait she so generously dangled in front of him. “What’s it to you?”

“Now, now, no need to be so hostile. I just believe I know her.” She brought her dainty hand up to her face to observe her manicure as if she hadn't already threatened the technician to redo them. “I raised a girl that looked identical to her.” His entire body went rigid. She has said some outlandish things in the past, but he'd never believed this woman capable of being a caretaker. The entire admission was outlandish. It had to be a joke. “Though that girl, was trouble. Ruthless. Soulless.” She looked up at him over the bent knuckles of her fingers, her direct eye contact making him uneasy. “It’s probably just a coincidence, of course, since she died. But, I’d keep an eye on her lest you wake up with a knife to your pretty throat.” She ran a finger across her throat to demonstrate her warning.

He took off towards the cabins. He had to ask you if her claim had any merit. It could just be another way to mess with his head, though Madam M has never just downright lied to him before. She spoke in maddening riddles, but if he solved the puzzle in time her warnings have proven to be true on occasion. He froze halfway up the second staircase leading to the cabins, and took a deep breath to settle the rising urgency. What was he going to do, barge in and interrogate you when you’ve given him no reason to doubt you? He ran palm through his hair before exhaling the built up stress in a groan.

You hadn't done a single thing to make him think you were a threat to them. You’ve put yourself in danger for each of them over the past weeks simply because you’d agree to accompany them to the saucer, and he doesnt think they'd have gotten out of Junon that smoothly if it hadn't been for you. He could go up there and make an ass of himself to cure his inner turmoil or he could mind his own business. Everyone had a past and it's not like he was an open book.

His name was called over the intercom, calling him to start the next match. He slowly peddled back down to the competition, and waited for the next match to begin.

*~*

Cloud stared up at the ceiling counting each plank that lined the top, taking note where some line up perfectly while others were cit asymmetrically to fit the space, while the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock slowly, but surely sapped his sanity. He thought this night would go by the fastest, being the final night and all, but sleep continued to slip through his grasp. Every tiny noise, whether it be inside his room or just outside his door, pulled him back from the cusp of slumber.

He’d spent most of the past two days inside these four walls, only leaving to eat,shower, and check in with the others, filling the time with targeted exercise to keep his body in shape. They probably won't get another rest like this for sometime so he tried to enjoy the monotony of it all, but really he’s been trying to avoid the obsessive need to check on you.

The conversation he had with Madam M has been running rampant in his head. Was Madam M your mother? Aerith once told him you’d grown up in Midgar, and at the time he said he didn’t care though now he silently thanked her it brought him one piece closer to solving the puzzle. However, she failed to confirm if you lived in the slums, or above the plate. You didn’t look alike at all, you didn't even sound alike, the only thing that was similar was a behavior. Casually diverting a conversation from something neither of you wanted to participate in and your ability to get information from someone- Reno. He didn't hear what you said, but the image was burned to the back of his eyelids. You looked like pure sin, plush lips parted and glossy, hand trailing lightly over his arm, and your smooth leg on show through the slit in your dress. His jaw clenched and teeth ground together almost painfully just thinking about it, but the tactics seemed to be the same as the smooth innuendos Madam M spouted about. He imagined most men might find it appealing, and he feared he would too, if it was you.

>He’d been conned into work before by Madam M, but it was different. Hed needed something from her, and as payment he was sent to face the atrocities in the colosseum. Which had him thinking: were you forced to learn how to fight, because that she witch wanted the profit, or did she have an ulterior motive? She did warn him that you were a threat so she had to be aware of the depths of your unique skills. You were hesitant to say anything about it, that much was clear.

He knew he could never just come out and ask you about any of it. You were too guarded. Any questions you've been asked you were quick to answer with a vague comment and then swiftly changing the topic to someone else. Whatever your childhood entailed was probably a horror you didn’t want to relive.

One moment stood out the most in his mind. It bothered him then, but the moment was so brief he chalked it up to his imagination. Just last week, as everyone was traveling to Crow’s Nest the topic of mothers came up. Barret was going on about his bullshit and prying into his he’d seen something, a flicker across your face. Your nostrils flared, eyes darkened and grown cold, and your body went rigid. Your hands were clenched into fist, the tops nearly gone white with the force, at your sides. And then it was gone, your expression returning to its normal resting position, your hands relaxing and swinging as you walked, but your eyes stayed empty. It hadn’t made much sense then, but now he’s starting to understand.

Should he be worried? Probably, it wasn't like him to dismiss potential dangers so easily. He couldn't explain it, but there was a feeling in his gut that just told him to trust you. You’ve been kind from the start, a bit snarky but kind. The adoration you held for chocobos, your reassurance to Barret of being a good father, the late nights watching fireflies. Those weren’t things that made someone dangerous, but backing you into a corner by confrontation you might, and he’s almost positive that was Madam M’s plan.

His bottled up frustration ripped from his throat in a loud groan. Sleep will be off the table as long as he keeps thinking about this. He swung his legs over the side of the mattress, abandoning the tangled warmth of the bed.

Were you asleep? You must be miserable. He’s heard from the girls that you've been sick the whole time. They’ve been taking turns to bring you beverages and some ginger candies. They tried anything they could think of to help you improve, but mostly they were trying to distract you from the unwavering nausea.

He hauled himself to his feet and gathered hardedge from its place against the wall. He treaded over to the desk where he’d left his supplies and pulled an orb of sleep materia from it, tucked it into his pocket, and exited the confines of his bunk.

The stairwells and hallways were dim, only being illuminated by the flickering candle sconces along the walls. This floor didn't have any windows since it was near the sea level. If he was being honest, the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the boat and the creaking of the floorboards were making him a tad sea sick too.

He rapped his knuckles against the door twice. He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited, one hand snaking back to rub at the nape of his neck. He was about to leave, suddenly feeling a bit silly thinking that you would be awake so late into the early morning, but then tell tale sound of vomiting reached his ears from inside the room.

He knocked one more time before cracking the door open and calling your name.

“Cloud?” He gritted his teeth and the raspiness of your voice as he stumbled in awkwardly before shutting the door behind him. “I’m in here.” You called out to him weekly from the cracked door of the bathroom. He leaned his bulky sword up against the wall behind him before taking in the room. It looked like his, an identical queen bed up against the left wall, white walls with blue footboards decorated with mounted fiches and large anchors, and that boring ass plank ceiling. The bed was pristine. Have you been sleeping at all? His fingers slipped from the plush blankets as he made his way to the bathroom, knocking his shoulder against the door to open it all the way.

You were hunched over the toilet your head nearly in the bowl as another wave of nausea overtook you. Off to your left was bunch of towels spread out in a makeshift bed, more like a nest, where you must've been dosing in between each session. He felt useless, knowing for himself firsthand that there wasn’t much that could be done for motion sickness, and fiercely protective. He had a deep seated desire to settle on the floor beside you and rub small circles onto your back like his mom had once done for him, but inside of doing something so bold he chose to lean against the door frame instead.

When the moment passed you wiped your mouth with the bottom of your shirt, exposing the smooth bit of skin above your waistband, and laid your head sideways on the your arms perched on top of the rim. Your skin was ashen, the normal tinge of color on your cheeks missing from your complexion, you had puffy purple bags under your eyes, and your lips were dry and cracked. Your hair spilled from the messy bun that sat atop your head and fell all around your face, some pieces dried along your hairline from sweat or dried tears, he hoped for the former.

You cracked one exhausted eye open to watch him as he watched you before opening the other, a groan pushing past your lips. “You look like shit.” He said trying to at least bring a smile to your face.

You glared at him, with no real heat in the pointed stare. “It’s almost like prolonged dry heaving doesn’t work for beauty anymore.” You swiveled over the bowl, nearly missing it altogether, as your body convulsed again. Once done you rested your forehead on the porcelain. “I should call to complain.”

He chuckled, and pulled out the orb of materia from his pocket. “I brought this.” The sphere rolled from his palm to his fingertips. “Sleep was the only thing that helped me when I got sick. Before the mako.”

Your irises flicked over it, the silent war flashing like lightning on the horizon. “Can’t.” You put your face in the bowl, your words bounced off the smoothness of its interior. “Too dangerous,” you retched, “if someone attacked.”

He squatted next to you, his hand coming up to brush a lock behind your ear. “I’ll stand guard.”

Your determination to be self sufficient was a thorn in his side, and for a moment he really thought you'd turn his idea down, but the small flicker of hope, of even the littlest bit of relief, won. “You promise?” He felt heated under your stare. Your very presence was like a warm pool of honey hed fallen into and now he wasn't sure he wanted to escape its depths.

He nodded, making a silent promise that as long as he was around you’d always be safe. He looked down to the orb in his gloved hand. The dim sphere slowly grew brighter until the entire material glowed bright green. He looked back to you as he gave the spell his command. The effect wasn't instant, but within a couple minutes your eyes grew heavy first, opening less and less until they stayed closed as you began to slump over. He gathered you in his arms, one arm wrapped around your back the other secured under your legs, and ambled through the door to your bed. He feared the wild thumping of his heart would wake you as you nuzzled your sleepy face into the planes of his chest, taking a deep breath in when you seemed satisfied with your nose pressed into his shirt.

You whimpered at the loss of his body heat as he laid you down gently in the center of the mattress. He grabbed the soft sherpa blanket at the end of the bed and wrapped it over you so no cold air could sneak in before sitting on the edge next to you. You turned on you side and curled into a crescent, your hand stretching out searching for him, and mumbled something in your sleep. Curiosity got the better of him, leaning in closer to hear the soft syllables. The breath in his lungs escaped his body in a sharp exhale and a warmth flooded from the tips of his fingers down to his toes. “Why is….so hard….not to…’ove you…”

A scream echoed from the hall, like the planet just couldn’t give him this one moment, before the door swung open. Tifa stood in the doorway winded from the all the obstacles and attacks to get here. “Cloud. It’s the robes.” He swiftly moved off the bed to grab his sword from the wall nudged himself into the hallway. Red was to the right fighting off a few fiends that resembled the ones from the Shinra lab in Midgar, and Aerith standing on the other side casting magic for support. The overhead speakers blared overhead calling for all military personnel to report to duty. “Red.”

“Yes?” He asked, he came to his call all four legs ready to leap at any moment.

“Not one fiend goes in this door. Understand?” The ominous feeling in his gut screamed Sephiroth’s involvement, the timing almost too perfect to ruin yet another thing in his life.

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[zehl0w]

Very messy scribble of a comic because they were on my mind (I doubt I’ll ever clean it up so I’m just posting it now so it doesn’t rot in my procreate files LOL)

[brainrotdotorg]

i keep on thinking about locust city . and i get so sad that i want to throw upppp what do you MEAN cuno and cunoesse had a friendship level that affected how close they walk with one another. what do you mean they kill cuno's dad. what do you mean it had a shitload of developmental concept art that looks fucking amazing. what do you mean it will never be made.

[xoxoemynn]

Hi,

I'm seeing a bit of a common theme in a lot of the posts today with people feeling hurt/lost/sad/you name it, all extremely valid.

I want to say that if you ever need somebody to talk to, my DMs are open.

And not just about this latest shit storm. If you want to talk about OFMD, a funny meme, a cool bird you saw. If you're just feeling a little lonely and would like somebody to talk to? Whether that's today or next week or next month, I'm here. I'd like to be your friend.

I know DMing people out of the blue can be intimidating and awkward, and honestly I'll probably be awkward the first few times we talk because that's kind of just how it goes, but that's okay. That's how friendships grow.

Nobody is alone here. I promise. 💗

[msnihilist]

So, I wasn't going to say anything about this because responding to anon hate doesn't accomplish anything, but this one I got this morning stuck out to me, and it's just because of one line.

"...someone you hurt is gonna expose you for every single evil thing you've done."

It's just such an interesting thing to say to someone you don't know and never will know.

I mean, I'm a normal person. Raised by parents who loved me and tried their best. Participated in middle school plays. Had high school drama. Tried an instrument for a year. Juggled college and a job. Lost some people. Y'know, ordinary life experiences for someone my age.

I haven't done anything "evil," believe it or not. I'm a good boy who obeys laws and I don't enjoy hurting people.

If you talked to old friends who ended it on bad terms with me, I'm sure they'd have a whole list of my bad qualities. Off-color jokes that I made, selfish decisions, accidents that snowballed.

But that's just... Normal? I'm sure this anon has done bad things, too. That's just life.

When I was five, I punched my little brother so hard that he got a bloody nose. Is that "evil"?

When I was nine, I stole some loose change from a friend of mine. Is that "evil"?

When I was fifteen, my friend told me that she was planning to commit suicide in December, and I was scared so I told her parents even though she expressly did not want them to know. Is that "evil"?

Fandom antis are so fascinating. The use of the word "evil" says all that I need to know about how this person thinks; enough that anything else they think is automatically worthless to me.

People can't be split into good and evil and, even if they could be, you can't tell that about someone just because of what art they create.

Would it make you feel better if I was "evil," anon? Would you feel vindicated if I hurt people, if I caused suffering in the world, if people had their lives ruined by me, all because I write about the "wrong" fictional characters kissing? That's pathetic, and sad.

I hope you find happiness in your life, anon. Seems like you need it.

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

It's crazy how I can be like "I'm having a depressive episode" until I'm with the right people and then it's like oh no I'm ok actually

[irradiatedrosegarden]

sometimes you just gotta lick the homies

[icannotfindthewords]

I wanna love you and treat you right - Jere

Bojan and Jere must have thousands ”Perfect holiday together” photos and videos like this for themselves. Silly selfies of them grinning from ear to ear in the middle of their own inside jokes. The softest tender smiles in sleepy mornings. Beaming at each other thru a camera lenses while eyes glow like in compete with the sun. Though most must be hugs from fierce to loving, to remind how close they could hold each other. And kisses traded in secret, which can still almost taste, feel phantom traces of them on a skin. Those are for them and them alone, to reminisce and help thru the colder months.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

While Edwin’s more than a bit stand-offish and definitely not the most tactful, I never did get the sense that he doesn’t like people - in fact, I think his insistence that he’s “not good with people” and his general emotional detachment/disinterest has a lot more to do with his assumption that they don’t or won’t like him.

And while that’s very sad to think about… it’s not as if his belief here is hard to understand, considering his past experiences. But it’s left him quite guarded and lonely, and of course, the more he isolates himself from people other than Charles (and even here, he allows himself little vulnerability), the more he reinforces this fear that people won’t like him, and the less he allows himself to properly sympathize or empathize with others, which is why his friendships with Crystal and Niko and Monty (short-lived as that was) are so important. Once he started to let some of those walls down, to not be so scared of vulnerability and to be around people who allow themselves to feel and want so readily (to live! who allow themselves to live without fear of loving!), he’s really not nearly as bad with people as he seems to think he is - and, in fact, he’s actually quite good at saying or doing the right thing for them when it really counts.

[frikatilhi]

I wish you would write a fic where Bojan reacts to the return of classic esc era Käärijä.

I wish you would write a fic where...

Totally not writing anything right now. Nuhhuh. Were I ever to write it, it would be dialogue only, something like

"Hello, Bojan?"

"Jesus Christ, warn a guy next time!"

"What's matter, I thought we call tomorrow--"

"Back to black, Jere?"

"You see it then?"

"Yeah I saw it, whole instagram saw it, I almost had a heart attack."

"You say you like my hair black!"

"I do! I did! Why do you think I-- wait."

"What?"

"You didn't... you didn't do it just because I said I miss it?"

"...no."

"I didn't mean it like... I said I miss seeing you for the first time, sometimes."

"Yes. I remember."

"We were always so happy then."

"No sleep, always worry, but. Yes. Happy."

"You know I didn't mean the black hair, specifically? I lo-- I mean, you look great with every color. The blond was totally h-- um. I'm just saying--"

"it's not because what you said."

"Oh."

"I think it better black for... you know, that next thing. We shoot promo soon. And Hooja thing, too. We make music video!"

"Oh. Okay."

"In spring, something else. Maybe. I don't know. Some new idea for summer!"

"Yeah."

"But Bojan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like it?"

"The black?"

"Yeah."

"I do."

"You really like it."

"Yeah, Jere. You know I do. It's... it's the man I fe-- the man I met. It'll always be how I remember you."

"Okay."

"Yeah. And--"

"How many days?"

"What?"

"I know you count, Bojan. How many?"

"Um... Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three more days."

"Yeah. I... can't wait."

"Me too. And maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe then, Bojan can finish sentence."

"What?"

"And tell me... how he feels. About... black hair. What do you think?"

"I--"

"Promise, Bojan?"

"...okay. Okay, I promise."

[abyssal-ilk]

sparing loghain for this playthrough is going to kill me so bad because rielle loves alistair. dearly. every past moment of anger and grief she's ever had with her brothers morphs into this deep, incessant need to keep alistair as close as she can, as safe and happy as she can— she can't let him die like trian, she can't let him change like bhelen, she refuses to make him king to spare him the political hell she grew up facing as a royal bastard second child. but when the time comes to kill loghain, she can't, because she gets why he did what he did. she can see the love he has for his people and his country, and what does killing him do, truly? she knew she couldn't do it. especially not in front of anora. how could she kill a father in front of his daughter when she lost her own? when alistair himself lost duncan? when she herself killed conner and broke up another family? when does it end?

but it comes at the cost of alistair's happiness. he changes. it kills him, in a way. he doesn't forgive her for it, and she doesn't think she'd deserve it even if he did.

[good-beans]

Attention milgramblrgram prisoners!! *attaches you to my keychain* *attaches you to my keychain* *attaches you

Not that I need atonement for anything, but I've been doing a lot of angst for milgramblrgram -- I wanted to offer something sweet 🤲

@amugoffandoms @rainbowghostcat @lostxmelody @gunsli-01 @justzosiahere

@waivyjellyfish @luce-speaks @fayesdiary @purgemarchlockdown @kyanako5972

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

Miraculous Ladybug is one of the few children's shows that I actually think would translate well to one of those slightly darker/grittier live action adaptations. Like yes the concept is inherently unserious at its core, but there is so much potential in that show for some good drama and angst if they took the script a bit more seriously and aged up the characters.

[animationismycomfort]

genuinely my favorite villains from PPG have to be the RRB idk why but I just adore them they’re funny crazy and a bit terrifying

[frosty-tian]

*Sees a Rescue Bots (Cybertronian) appreciation post featuring the main four.

“Ah, that’s nice.”

*Sees it’s them talking about how much they love ‘every bot’. Except Boulder (leaves him out completely).

“My respect goned.”

(This is a joke post/not meant to be taken seriously.)