#i need to let myself make the shit i feel like making and do the shit i feel like doing like wearing crow feathers and stuff bc like

[anni-writes]

intimacy limbo

Miya Atsumu x MSBY PR manager! reader

Warnings: nsfw, suggestive convo, dirty talk, drunk atsumu, drunk call, nothing very explicit though

word count: 1106

A/N: I'm a sucker for this dynamic, probably will write more, let me know if y'all liked 🤲

“hello?”

you pick up the annoying phone buzzing under your pillow without sparing much time to check the name on the screen, assuming it's an emergency, since nobody would sanely call another person in the middle of the night if it wasn't important, right?

… wrong

“did I wake you up?“ — the voice on the other side said and you wondered if he was joking

you sat on the bed, looking to the clock on the bedstand

“it's 2am, Atsumu. Why are you calling?”

you asked in a deep hoarse sleepy voice, your forehead frowning while your brain tried to make the sinapses of why Atsumu Miya would call his PR Manager at such hour.

all the answers sounded terrible

“fuck, don't tell me you're screwing a married actress again? or you fought someone at a party? it's fucking friday Atsumu you're gonna make me work on the weekend again—”

“God, your voice is so hot when you wake up…”

he interrupted my rambling with his own and immediately I realize he might be drunk.

“where are you?” — I asked, a little more soothing now

“uhhh… home?”

“since when?”

“since… ten minutes ago”

“where were you?”

“i— at a pub? with Bokkun and some others”

“why are you calling?”

the line went quiet, I can feel the hesitation lingering, but I don't push it, just hearing his deep breathing for some long seconds

“i— wanted to hear your voice… you…”

he stops suddenly, and I let him be, laying back down on my bed, keeping the phone on my ear, looking at the ceiling

“are you drunk?”

“no. maybe? a little. but not much” — enough to call me in the middle of the night, I think to myself. but also don't comment on it

I stay quiet on the line for a few seconds, enough for him to protest.

“hey”

“hm?”

“talk to me”

he say, a demanding tone, and I can't help but snort.

“what do you want to talk about, Miya?”

“when was the last time you fucked somebody”

my breath hitched in a silent surprise, not expecting this question

“what the fuck, Atsumu—”

“answer me”

I stop on my track, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to remember when was the last time I—

“that'd be… three months ago? on a blind date”

“did you cum?”

my eyebrow raise on an impossible force, but I can't bring myself to be uncomfortable with his questions. a sick dynamic that blossomed after the Olympic games, when I cleaned up all of his messes

“I didn't”

“And when was the last time?”

I narrow my eyes, not quite catching

“Last time…?”

“That you came?”

“uhm… Last night? I mean, I don't need a man to cum, do I…?”

He hissed on the phone, that was the only answer I didn't antecipated.

“Atsumu, are you getting off from my voice?”

I ask bluntly, expecting an equal blunt answer. And how was my surprise when I didn't get one

“I— no, I don't… I just… that's not…”

“You're such a slut"

this time he graced me with a whimper from the back of his throat,

and somehow, in a sick way, I was starting to like

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?”

he said, his voice clearly deeper, darker

“how do I drive you crazy, Miya?”

“don't… dont call me that... not now”

“i’ll call you whatever I want, Miya”

he hiss again, and I almost chuckle. but I hold back, just asking

“what was that?”

silence on the other way, I hear him sighing, and I mend, testing the waters

“Atsumu?”

“Yes!”

he say immediately and exhasperated, and I smile

“you like how I say your name?”

“I… very much”

“what if I moaned your name?”

“… ah… fuck… don't say shit like that…”

“Okay, I won't…”

“But please do”

this time I can't hold back, I crack a laugh on the phone

“Miya, there's only so much mixed signals someone can handle”

“You speak like you'd let me fuck you even if I beg”

“We can't, Miya”

he sigh deep on the other side, I can hear the frustration in his voice

“I'll send my nudes to a sports journalist and create the biggest PR scandal MSBY has ever seen”

he say in a petty act and I crack another laugh, knowing he doesn't actually would do something of such magnitude. not purposefully, at least.

“You know that would only obligate us to stay in the same meeting room for long hours until I fix it, don't you?”

he sigh, frustrated again, on the other side of the line, and I hear muffled sounds of something soft, probably him shifting on his bed

but the silence linger again, and before he can protest, I break it

“You should go to sleep, you have practice tomorrow”

“… can't. ‘m hard.” — he say and I snort, biting my tongue to not ask for proof

“take a cold shower, masturbate, dunno. go to sleep, Miya”

I hear him sighigh frustrated again, another set of shuffling noises

“okay, I'll go”

he say and part of me feel bad, not wanting to end the call, used to this sick twisted intimacy that I cultivated myself

“You go, and don't get late for practice tomorrow. G’night”

“night”

his answer is dry, and before he (or I) can hesitate or say anything else, I press the red button, putting my phone down on the bed.

I sigh, throwing my arms on my face, knowing I'm in the wrong for indulging Atsumu antics,

but this dynamic, once settled, it's impossible to go back. The rush of dopamine is too delicious, making both of us stuck in a middle term limbo of attraction and curiosity, leading to a twisted intimacy.

after tossing and turning on the bed for a while, in a failed attempt to go back to sleep, I decide to take back my phone, seeking some brain distraction

and I see a lost text from Atsumu

i knew opening his message would only make things worse for me. But I do it either way. And the sight makes my mouth water.

“fucking hell” I think to myself, grumbling while opening the bedstand drawer where my toys are, preparing for a couple more hours of perturbation

[leona-hawthorne]

OUR DREAMS / mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: fate worked against you, forcing you to break your promise to never leave his side.

warnings: angst, war (battle of hogwarts— brief), death, grief, funeral, suicide, swearing. this is just a lot of heavy material so please read at your own risk. nothing here is being romanticized— remember this is all fiction.

words: 4.2k + a bonus of 1.2k (it’s a long one!)

a/n: this one took a while icl

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

ONE YEAR AGO:

The small bathroom in Mattheo's dorm was dimly lit, casting a soft glow over the white tiles. The air was thick with tension, mingled with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of antiseptic. You sat on the sink counter, your legs dangling over the edge, while Mattheo stood between them, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, revealing the fresh wounds that marred his skin. The mirror behind you reflected the tension in his eyes, the fire that never seemed to extinguish.

He was desperate to kiss you as his hands gently cupped your thighs. His eyes followed your every movement, the fluorescent light casting shadows across your face.

It wasn’t surprising that the boy had gotten into yet another fight, but you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Still, you’d help him with his cuts and bruises, of course. It’s not like you wanted to see him all black and blue. Your relationship with him was complicated. Your arrangement was supposed to be just a means of release, of physicality, nothing but two friends helping each other out, but honestly, you didn’t know where the line between friends and lovers was drawn.

Mattheo's jaw clenched as you dabbed at a particularly nasty cut on his side, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing second. He let out a frustrated sigh, breaking the stillness.

"You always do this," he muttered, his voice low and edged with frustration.

"Do what? Help you?" you shot back, meeting his gaze with a stubborn intensity.

"Yeah. I don’t need your help."

You rolled your eyes, not backing down. "Well, too bad. You’re gonna get it anyway."

He grumbled something under his breath, his movements more agitated. "I could’ve done it myself."

"We both know damn well you wouldn’t try to clean a single one of these cuts and they’d have ended up infected," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

His gaze flickered to you, irritation simmering in his dark eyes. "Whatever."

A heavy silence fell between you again, the only sound the faint dripping of water from the faucet. You watched him carefully, the way his fingers moved along your thighs with practiced ease despite the tension in his muscles. The dim light cast shadows over his handsome features, highlighting the hard lines of his face and the anger that seemed to perpetually simmer beneath the surface.

You let out a sigh, placing the cloth aside for a moment. "Mattheo, you can’t solve all your problems with your fists."

"Why do you care?" he snapped, his gaze flicking back to you, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Do you think I like seeing you this way? All fucked up and bloodied?" you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.

"It’s none of your business," he replied, his voice cold and distant.

"It is my business. I care about you, Mattheo. You know that," you insisted, leaning forward slightly, trying to bridge the gap between you.

"Oh, you’re such a saint, aren’t you? You’re so damn perfect. You probably love seeing me like this just so you can help me, don’t you? Make you feel good about yourself, yeah?" he spat, his words dripping with bitterness.

"Mattheo, why are you being like this?"

"Y/N, I don’t fucking need your fake love or your sympathy. We’re using each other, alright? Don’t give me this fake shit when you know damn well I don’t matter that much to you," he said, his eyes dark and stormy.

"It’s not fake, Mattheo! I care about you. Why can’t you just accept that?" you pleaded, your hands gripping the edge of the sink tightly.

"Because. It’s not that easy."

"Why?! We’re friends, aren’t we?" you asked, your voice almost breaking.

"No," he said, his tone final and resolute.

"No?" you echoed, your heart sinking at his words.

Heavy silence hung in the air as you stared at each other, the tension thick and suffocating. Mattheo swallowed, gathering the nerve to speak again.

"We’re not fucking friends, Y/N. We stopped being friends the second you let me kiss you," he said, his voice low and filled with a raw intensity that made your breath catch.

"Then what the hell are we doing, Mattheo? Wasn’t this supposed to be no strings attached? What the hell is going through your head?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You wanna know the fucking truth, Y/N?” He grumbled through gritted teeth.

“That’s all I’ve been asking for.”

Silence hung heavy in the air between you. Beneath the burning hot anger in his eyes, there was a raw vulnerability, and it took a moment for you to process it. You reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, avoiding the fresh wounds.

He nodded vigorously, taking a deep breath to prepare for what he was about to confess. He swallowed hard, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek in frustration. "I’m falling for you, Y/N. And I’m fucking terrified that you’re gonna end up walking away from me if I let you in."

The reality of his unfiltered words hit you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you struggling to stay afloat.

His eyes softened, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his hardened exterior. "I don’t know how to do this shit," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I don’t know how to let someone in without pushing them away."

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. You could see the fear in his eyes, the vulnerability that he tried so hard to hide behind his tough exterior. Your heart ached for him, for the boy who had always been so strong, yet so fragile underneath it all.

So, you decided actions speak louder than words and you leaned in, brushing your lips against his before placing a soft, tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You don’t have to do it alone," you murmured softly, reaching out to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "We can figure it out together. Just… don’t shut me out."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. "I don’t deserve you," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

"That’s not for you to decide," you replied softly. "Just let me be here for you. Let me care about you."

He opened his eyes, searching your face for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice barely audible.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before meeting your gaze again. "Promise me that you won’t leave me. Not after this and not any other time you see me getting hurt. Promise me you’ll always stick around."

"I promise," you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere. "I’m not going anywhere, Mattheo."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to be cared for.

If only he’d known of the dark future that awaited the two of you.

PRESENT:

The war had raged on longer than anyone had expected. It was a dark time for everyone, filled with pain, loss, and the constant shadow of fear. Yet, amidst the chaos, you had found a sanctuary in each other. Mattheo had always been a complex soul, but you had seen the light in him, the flicker of goodness that he had desperately tried to hide from the world.

You had made a promise to each other on a night when the stars were the only witnesses to your vows. It was in the abandoned courtyard of Hogwarts, far from the prying eyes of the others, that you had pledged your hearts. You promised you would never leave his side, no matter what fate awaited you both.

As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, the war took its toll. Mattheo fought valiantly, his heart a fortress of determination. But every battle, every loss, chipped away at that fortress. And then, that fateful night came.

He had been in the thick of the fight, his wand a blur of deflected curses and hexes. He had always been a formidable opponent, but even the strongest warriors have their weaknesses.

His was you.

In the corner of his eye, he saw you fall, your body crumpling to the ground. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of the battle fading into a distant roar as he ran to you.

"Y/N!" His voice was hoarse, desperate. He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling your head in his lap. Blood stained your robes, a stark contrast against the pale moonlight. Your eyes fluttered open, and you gave him a weak smile.

"I'm sorry, Mattheo," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the cacophony around you. "I tried..."

"Shh," he whispered, his heart breaking with every labored breath you took. “Fuck. Don't speak, baby. Just stay with me. Please."

You reached up, your hand trembling, to touch his cheek. "I love you," you said, the words filled with a lifetime of emotions. "So much, Matty."

Before he could respond, before he could tell you how much he needed you, how much he loved you, your hand fell limp, your eyes closing for the last time. He screamed your name, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the battlefield.

Days turned into a blur of grief and anger. He felt like a ghost, drifting through the remnants of his life without you. He wandered the broken halls of Hogwarts, the memories of your laughter haunting every corner. He found himself at the courtyard where you had made your promise, the stars indifferent to his pain.

He knelt on the cold stone, his tears falling freely. "You promised," he whispered into the night, his voice breaking. "You promised you'd never leave me."

You were so close to peace. The war was ending, you’d almost made it out together, but you were stolen from him and he couldn’t help the rage that bubbled within him at the unjust ending of your beautiful soul.

The wind carried his words away, the silence his only response. He looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling as if mocking him. "I was supposed to marry you," he said, his voice louder now, filled with anger and sorrow. "We were supposed to have a life together!"

But no matter how many times he shouted, no matter how many tears he shed, you were gone. The war had taken you from him, and with you, it had taken his heart.

In the end, all he had left were the memories of your love, the ghost of your touch, and the shattered pieces of the promises you had made. The second Wizarding World War had claimed many lives, but none as precious to him as yours.

And so, Mattheo Riddle was left to wander the ruins of his heart, forever haunted by the loss of the one person who had ever truly seen him, who had ever truly loved him.

The day of your funeral arrived with a heaviness that seemed to permeate the very air. The sky was overcast, gray clouds hanging low as if the heavens themselves mourned your passing. Mattheo stood at the edge of the graveyard, the stark black of his robes blending into the gloom of the overcast sky, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. He felt numb, the world around him muted and distant.

A small crowd had gathered, friends, family, and comrades from the war, but all he could focus on was the void where you should have been. To Mattheo, they were mere shadows, their sorrow a distant echo compared to the roaring agony within him.

People had gathered to pay their respects, their faces somber and tear-streaked. Friends and family stood in solemn silence as the service began. Mattheo could barely hear the words of the officiant, his mind consumed by memories of you.

The way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, your gentle touch, the way you had looked at him as if he were the only person in the world. He remembered the night you had promised each other forever, your eyes shining with love and certainty, the way you had held him close on those cold nights when the war seemed never-ending. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he fought to keep his composure.

The eulogy was a blur, words drifting past him without meaning. He couldn't bear to listen, couldn't bear to accept that this was real. His eyes were fixed on your casket, a cold and lifeless vessel that could never hold the warmth of your spirit. You looked peaceful, as if merely sleeping, but he knew better. The light that had danced in your eyes was gone forever You had somehow, stupidly made him believe in a future where love could triumph over darkness. Now, you’re fucking dead. How was that any fair?

He stood apart from the crowd, not out of choice, but because the grief was too overwhelming to share. His eyes followed the procession as your casket was carried forward, draped in a beautiful white cloth. It was impossible to believe that you were in there, so still, so silent.

In his hand, he clutched a simple, silver ring. It had been meant for you, a symbol of the life you were supposed to share. He had carried it with him through every battle, every moment of doubt, a promise of a future he now knew would never come to pass.

He walked forward, each step heavier than the last. The closer he got, the more real it became. The finality of it all crashed over him like a tidal wave. He stopped at the foot of your grave, looking down at the polished wood. His throat tightened, his vision blurring with tears he refused to shed.

As they lowered you into the ground, Mattheo felt his legs give way. He dropped to his knees, the pain of losing you crashing over him in relentless waves. He clutched at the grass, the earth beneath his fingers feeling both real and surreal.

He stood by your grave, watching as the earth swallowed the last physical connection he had to you.

He had written a letter to you, a final goodbye that he clutched in his hand. It was crumpled and tear-stained, but it held all the words he had never been able to say. With trembling hands, he reached forward and placed it gently on top of your casket.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I always will. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

His tears fell freely now, mingling with the dirt. He wanted to stay there forever, to be close to you in some way, even if it was just a grave. He could feel the eyes of others on him, their pity and their sympathy, but it meant nothing. Nothing could fill the void you had left behind.

People began to approach him, offering their condolences. He nodded mechanically, his mind far away. It wasn't until the crowd began to disperse that he finally allowed himself to step forward.

As the ceremony drew to a close, people began to drift away, leaving him alone with his grief. He stayed long after the others had gone, the sky darkening above him. The first drops of rain began to fall, soft and cold against his skin.

He traced the letters of your name on the gravestone, the finality of it all sinking in. "We were supposed to get married," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain. "We were supposed to have a life together. I don't know how to do this without you."

The silence was deafening. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the sound of your laughter, the feel of your hand in his, but it felt like trying to grasp smoke. The memories were there, but they were slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality of your absence.

His hand clenched into a fist, gripping the earth as if he could hold onto you through sheer force of will. "I was supposed to protect you," he said, his voice filled with self-recrimination. "I was supposed to keep you safe. I failed you."

He closed his eyes, letting the rain mix with his tears. He could almost feel your presence beside him, a phantom touch that was both comforting and cruel. He would carry you with him always, in his heart and in his memories, but it would never be enough.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, a soft, mournful sound. He looked up, his eyes scanning the sky as if searching for a sign, a glimpse of you. But there was nothing.

"I don't know how to say goodbye," he whispered. "I don't want to say goodbye."

The weight of the finality of your death crushed him, and for the first time since you had died, he allowed himself to truly cry. He wept for the future you had lost, the love you would never share, and the promises you would never keep.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the graveyard, Mattheo rose to his feet. He looked down at your grave one last time, his heart aching with the loss. "Goodbye, Y/N," he said softly. "Rest in peace, my love." Before standing, he placed a single, white lily on the fresh soil, a symbol of the pure, untainted love you’d blessed him with.

With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, each step a reminder of the life you had planned together, the life that had been cruelly stolen by the war. The future stretched out before him, an endless road of sorrow and longing, and he had no idea how he was going to conquer it without you by his side.

He stumbled to his car, and started driving to a place that only you two knew about, a place that held memories of you together. Tears blurred his vision and he wiped them away with his sleeve, the fabric damp against his cheeks.

Mattheo's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he navigated the familiar turns that led to the cliff overlooking the water. The memories flooded his mind with every passing mile, memories of laughter, of whispered promises, of stolen moments beneath the starlit sky. His heart ached with every beat, the pain of losing you still raw and unrelenting.

Mattheo can only hope that he'll see you in the afterlife, because right now he cannot fathom being alive without his lioness.

His knuckles turned white, his grip strong around the steering wheel as he drove through the winding roads, the path almost instinctual. The car's engine hummed, the only sound breaking the heavy silence that enveloped him. He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, his vision blurred but his destination clear in his mind.

He was heading to the place that had been your sanctuary, your escape from the world. It was a secluded cliff overlooking the ocean, a spot you had discovered together and claimed as their own. The memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises haunted him, every twist and turn of the road a painful reminder of what he had lost. The memories felt like shards of glass, cutting into his already shattered, bloodless husk of a heart.

The car finally came to a stop as he arrived at the precipice overlooking the water, the sunset you painted absolutely beautiful, and he sat there for a moment, gathering his strength. He inhaled a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. But grief gripped him like a vice, refusing to let go. How could he go on without you? How could he face a world that no longer held your light?

With a heavy sigh, Mattheo stepped out of the car. The wind whipped around him, carrying the scent of salt and memories of happier times. He walked slowly to the edge of the cliff, the ground uneven beneath his feet. The waves crashed against the rocks below, a tumultuous echo of his own emotions.

The wind hit him with a force that almost made him stumble and the waves crashed violently against the rocks below, their relentless power a stark contrast to the fragile state of his heart.

The breeze was strong, tugging at his clothes and whipping through his hair, but he barely noticed. He stood at the edge, looking out at the horizon where the sea met the sky. The last time they had been here, you had laughed and danced in the wind, your spirit free and wild. He had called you his lioness, admiring your strength and courage. Now, the wind seemed to mock him with its emptiness.

The pain was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. He could see you, hear your laughter, feel your touch. The ache in his chest deepened, the emptiness consuming him.

"I can't do this," he said, his voice trembling. "I can't go on without you."

"I hope I'll see you in the afterlife," he murmured, his heart breaking with each word. "Because right now, I can't fathom being alive without you."

The thought of reuniting with you someday gave him a sliver of solace, a tiny fragment of hope to cling to. But it did little to alleviate the overwhelming sorrow that consumed him in this moment.

As he stood there, teetering on the edge, he took a deep breath, the salty air filling his lungs. He remembered the nights they had spent here, the dreams they had shared, the future they had planned. It was all gone, reduced to nothing but a mere dream.

The wind still whipped around him, but it no longer felt like a force of despair. It was a reminder of your spirit, wild and untamed, a part of him forever.

"I'll join you, my beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the wind and the sea. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unabated now, mingling with the salty spray. He looked out across the water, searching for solace in the vast expanse of the horizon. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to imagine you beside him, your hand in his once more.

The ache in his chest was unbearable, a physical manifestation of the void you had left behind. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver ring, complemented by a beautiful diamond. He clutched it in his palm, holding it against his heart.

The sky was a canvas of shifting clouds, tinged with hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent. It was a sight you both had cherished, moments spent in quiet awe of the beauty that surrounded you. Now, the beauty seemed cruel, a stark reminder of everything he had lost.

Mattheo closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him like the crashing waves below. He remembered the warmth of your smile, the strength in your embrace, the way you had always believed in him even when he couldn't believe in himself.

"I love you," he said aloud, his words a whisper against the wind. "I'll love you for eternity."

With a deep breath, he stepped closer to the edge, his heart heavy with grief but resolute in his decision. The waves continued to crash against the rocks below, a tumultuous symphony that echoed the turmoil in his soul. He closed his eyes one final time, a tear slipping down his cheek, before taking a step forward.

In that moment, the wind seemed to soften, as if nature itself held its breath. Mattheo felt weightless, suspended between earth and sky, between life and death. His thoughts were of you, of the life you had planned together, and the love that would never fade. The wind caught his hair as he fell, the world around him fading into a blur of memories and regrets.

As he plummeted towards the crashing waves below, he closed his eyes, imagining that he would soon be reunited with you. The pain in his heart would finally be eased, and together, you would find peace in the afterlife.

As he fell, he felt a fleeting sense of peace wash over him, the hope that in the next life, he would find you waiting. And as the ocean embraced him, swallowing him whole, he knew that even in death, your love would be his guiding light. He’s not alone, or scared, or in pain.

And in that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world grew dark around him, Mattheo found solace in the belief that love transcends even death itself.

Together, you would rest in eternity, bound by a love that not even death could tear asunder.

BONUS: HIS LETTER.

To my beautiful, beautiful Y/N Riddle,

I don't know where to begin, or if words will ever be enough to express the depths of my love for you and the agony that now fills my heart. It feels like only yesterday when we first met at Hogwarts, two young souls unaware of the future that awaited us.

I remember the first time I saw you, how your smile lit up the room and warmed even the coldest corners of my soul. I was drawn to you in a way I never thought possible. But I was so afraid, Y/N. Afraid to open up, afraid to let someone see the darkness that has always consumed me. You broke through those walls with such ease, with such compassion and understanding, that I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.

You made me believe in love, in a future where happiness and peace were not just distant fantasies but achievable realities. We talked about our dreams, about a life together filled with laughter and love, with children who would know nothing of the darkness we faced during the war.

Do you remember our dreams, Y/N? The plans we made under the stars, whispering of a future where we would be together always? The quiet evenings we spent planning our future, weaving our hopes into a tapestry of promises and vows? I can still hear your laughter, see the sparkle in your eyes as you spoke of the life we would build together.

We dreamed of a home filled with laughter and love, of a life where we would grow old together, hand in hand. I never wanted children before I met you. Now, I think I would’ve wanted a daughter, but a boy would’ve been nice too. We’d have two or maybe three beautiful kids. They’d probably have my curly hair and I’d have wanted them to have your vibrant eyes.

But before that, I’d move you away from all the chaos. It would’ve just been you and me out in the countryside, quiet and far from the drama. Like the Weasleys’. I’d never admit it to anyone but you, but I’ve always been jealous of them, of their family. I wanted what they had, with you. A loud, rowdy family that was held together by love instead of riches.

You and I didn’t have enough time. Hardly one year was not nearly enough time. I would’ve wanted to have you all to myself for a couple years, put a ring on that pretty finger and flaunt you around.

You were my anchor, Y/N, my reason for hope during the darkest times of the war. When everything seemed lost, you were the light that guided me through the storm.

But now, as I write these words, I find myself standing alone at your bedside, surrounded by the ghost of your presence, a haunting silence in place of your laugh, and the echo of promises left unfulfilled. I’m surrounded by memories of our time together, memories that now seem both painfully vivid and achingly distant.

The war has ended, but victory tastes bitter without you by my side. How can I celebrate when you are not here to share in the peace we fought so hard to achieve?

We made a pact, you and I. I remember the vow we made, Y/N, on that fateful night when the battle raged around us. We promised that nothing would tear us apart, not even death itself. Yet here I am, facing a reality where you are no longer by my side. You were taken from me, torn away in the final throes of the war, just as we dared to hope for peace.

And now, you’re gone. Taken from me by a world that seems intent on destroying everything good and pure. I am angry, Y/N. Angry at the universe for robbing me of the one person who made me feel whole. Angry at you for making me believe that we could have a future together, only to leave me to face this empty world alone.

How could you leave me like this? How could you promise to never leave and then be taken from me, just as we were on the brink of the life we dreamed of?

You made me believe that I deserved love, that letting someone in wouldn’t be a mistake, that it would bring me more joy than pain. But then, what is this agony I feel? Would I have felt this way if I’d refused to give in all that time ago?

The truth is, I can’t even blame you. Because I know that even if I hadn’t given in, I still would’ve loved you from afar, and the pain of losing you would still be this unbearable.

The ache of knowing that I will never again hear your voice, or feel your touch, or see your smile is torturous. The pain of knowing that our dreams will never come to fruition, that our love story has been cut short before it truly began.

In the days since you left me, I have tried to find solace in memories of our time together. Every laugh, every touch, every shared moment is etched into my soul, a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what will never be again. I miss you more than words can say, and the emptiness inside me grows with each passing day.

They say time heals all wounds, but how can time soothe a heart so irreparably broken? Every beat is a reminder of your absence, every breath a struggle to fill the void you left behind. I carry your love like a precious burden, cherished and painful in equal measure. In every quiet moment, I still feel your presence, as if you linger just beyond reach, waiting for me to join you.

I have made a decision, my love. As I stand here before you, I know that I cannot go on without you. My heart belongs to you and you alone, and I cannot bear to face a future where your laughter does not fill the air. I hope you can forgive me for this selfish act, for choosing to follow you rather than endure a life without you.

With this letter, I relinquish the burden of my sorrow and embrace the peace that awaits us beyond this world. I will find you again, of this I am certain, for our love is eternal and boundless, a beacon that will guide me through the darkness until we are reunited once more.

Until that day, my love, hold me in your heart as I hold you in mine.

Wherever you are now, Y/N, my heart will always be with you. In this life and the next, we will be together again, for love knows no boundaries, not even death itself.

Wait for me, beautiful girl. I’m coming back to you. I’ll still need another kiss when I see you once more.

Until we meet again, my beloved,

Your Mattheo

[theotherbuckley]

This is payback for the 40 something sentences btw

👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁😘😘😘😘

I brought this upon myself.... i have many regrets.

👧🏼 - dad!buck teacher!tommy (bucktommy)

“Daddy’s coming?” Bella asks, looking up at Buck with the biggest puppy eyes.  “Not today, baby, you’re at big school now!” He replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come on! I’ll show you where your class is,” Christopher says enthusiastically, offering up a simple wave to Carla before he starts walking towards the classrooms, looking back towards Bella when he realises she’s not following. “Daddy has to come,” she begs, grasping on to Buck’s leg and holding on for dear life.  Buck honestly didn’t expect Bella to cry when he went to leave — frankly, he thought he’d be the one crying, watching his girl all grown up. Bella was never really the shy kid, always happy to meet new people and do new things. She could talk to strangers for hours about the most outlandish things. The other week they were at the zoo with the Diaz’s and Bella had walked up to the zookeeper, asking 100 different questions about sea otters which had become Bella’s latest hyperfixation for about a week. Buck had watched her talking away, smiling fondly. He had turned to Eddie shaking his head saying he didn’t know where she got it from to wish Eddie gave him a very pointed look and said, “Seriously?” So apparently ADHD is hereditary.  Point is, he didn’t really plan on Bella clinging to him the way she was now, and he didn’t know what to do. He’d do anything for his daughter, and watching her look up at him as she clung to his pant leg, made his heart break. He was helpless to do anything but walk up to her classroom with her.  They followed Christopher into the school, taking twists and turns that had Buck worrying how he was going to get out of this maze when he left. Chris finally stopped at the door of a class that had a bright pink number 5 cut out stuck to the door.  “Are we absolutely sure this is room five?” Buck joked upon seeing the sign. Bella looked up at him, hand still gripped tightly to Buck’s and said, “Yeah, Daddy, see! Number five!” she said, pointing to the door. They’d been practising number’s recently, Bella already surpassing Buck’s mental arithmetic ability by being able to add 5 and 7 — Buck still had to use his fingers. She definitely inherited her mother’s ability for math.  A second bell rang loudly in the hall, causing Bella to jump slightly in his hold. He squeezes her hand gently a few times to comfort her before looking towards Chris who still needed to get to his room. “See you later, Bella!” Christopher says, turning to walk down the hall towards his own class. “Come on, Bellie,” Buck said, guiding Bella into the class. There were about 10 other children sat at desks in the class, a few still with their parents which made Buck feel better about coming into the room with his daughter — not that he would leave anyway, not until he knew his daughter was happy. Noticing some cubby holes at the back of the class, Buck ushered Bella towards them to put her bag down.  Distracted by getting Bella into the desk that had her name on it, and getting her settled, Buck never stopped to look at the front of the class towards the teacher. When Bella had finally let go of his had, now apparently forgetting his existence and chatting very enthusiastically to a boy sat beside her, Buck looked up to see Bella’s teacher drawing in big letters on the whiteboard.  Buck has no idea how he missed him walking in because the man was huge. Buck thought his arms were huge as a firefighter but holy shit… apparently being a teacher makes you built like a fucking tank. The man was writing in curly letters on the board, spelling out “Mr. Kinard”. Once he’d finished he turned to face the room. Buck instantly noticed his deep blue eyes and the cleft of his chin that painted a very lovely picture for him to look at. The man caught his eye for a moment and smiled, the corners of his eyes and nose scrunching with smile lines that Buck felt completely normal about.  Buck had to clamp his mouth shut when he realised that he’d been staring, slack jawed at the objectively very handsome teacher.

🚁 - helicopter crash s8 (bucktommy)

The siren blares loudly above his head, some suburban house fire or something. Buck only half registers it, still stuck staring at the screen in front of him. He’s distantly aware of Eddie calling for him but he just can’t right now. He can’t. Captain Gerrard moves in front of the TV, forcing Buck to snap out of his gaze. “Get a fucking move on, Buckley,” he practically spits. Buck moves mechanically, forcing himself out of his chair and following his captain down towards the fire engines.  “Can I— Can I be man behind this time?” Buck says, his voice sounding small to his own ears.  “No,” Gerrard replies simply, not even turning to look back at him.  Johnson had been the man behind all day, apparently in punishment for failing to adequately wash the fire engine. Buck knew that the real reason was because Gerrard caught his boyfriend dropping him off in the morning.  “Please,” Buck says again, hating the way his voice breaks in the middle. He can’t focus right now — he’d be useless as a firefighter at the scene. It would be safer for everyone if he stayed back. Please— “Get in the truck,” Gerrard shouts at him. 

😘 - pet names 10+1 (bucktommy)

Buck swallows. “What-whatever do you mean, sweetums?” Buck says, before wincing immediately. “Okay, okay,” Buck relents, “I’m trying out pet names. And they’re not going great, especially not sweetums.” Buck cringes again. “But, I will come up with a good one. Just you wait.” Tommy’s expression turns fond as he stares at Buck with the cutest look Buck thinks a man could possibly make. “Baby, you don’t have to give me a pet name. Tommy’s fine,” Tommy says sincerely. “Besides,” Tommy says, lips quirking up at the edges. “I kinda like hearing you moan my name.” Buck trips through the door.

[klxudykai]

the ugly part of reality shifting

as great as shifting is, its really fucking draining. like REALLY draining. its nice that people want to show the fun and positive side of shifting and all, but once new shifters (specifically) hit the stage where they're drained and extremely demotivated, they aren't going to know how to deal with these new overwhelming emotions. reality shifting takes a toll on our mental health even if we don't like to admit it. this may not apply to everything, but I know it applies to the majority.

ive been shifting since 2021 (if you saw my post Abt me starting shifting in 2019 that was wrong lmfao mb yall-). and I still haven't shifted. I used to think I'd shift within 4 years but surprise surprise. I haven't. I'm drained and demotivated. I don't completely believe I wont ever shift, but I don't think I can get what I want by manifesting or affirming or doing any of that. I think the universe will just randomly hand it to me. it sounds dumb but that's the weird luck I have. when I don't expect it, I get what I want. but when I try hard and I expect it, nothing happens or I get smth worse. i don't think that even when I put blood,sweat, and tears into this that I'll shift. I've discovered so much shit about myself yet I am still here with no experience of what its like in another reality let alone my dr. never saw my dr once. only in my dreams and my imagination.

im going to be completely honest when I say that shifting is not for the weak. I'm not saying this to get you to quit because shifting is one of the best things that I found. I just want you to know that its not always going to be perfect. you might feel desperate, you might feel homesick, you might feel exhausted mentally. and sometimes you'll make progress but then find another obstacle. quite frankly, fuck the obstacles because that's not the issue. its how you deal with them that really determine how your growth goes. and no I'm not saying it controls if you'll shift or not because it doesn't. but if you're a person that gives up easily, its going to be hard to overcome those blockages. I say that because I myself give up easily. which is ironic because I don't give up when it comes to certain goals I want to accomplish (one of those goals being shifting), but I refuse to get rid of those so called "blockages" and avoid them even though I know what's the problem. I avoid them because I don't know how to fix them and I just have this fear that's telling me I'll fail.

this post probably doesn't make a lot of sense but that's because I'm writing this in the heat of the moment so I'm not doing a lot of thinking, I'm just typing. what I'm saying is don't be that person that avoids the problems. be transparent with yourself because I'm telling you, the more you avoid it, the more drained youre going to become. it might turn into an endless loop where you think about your Dr daily but you have zero energy to shift. and it fucking sucks.

overall, please take breaks whether they're mental or shifting breaks, if you feel like there is an issue with yourself, fix it. this is a hard journey but it will be a lot easier once you're honest and overcome problems that need to be solved.

(disclaimer that this may not apply to everyone, just the people who are going through a rough patch in their journey. this is mainly just my perspective and what I've heard from a friend of mine since our issues seemed pretty similar. and if anyone needs someone to talk to, my DMS are open. I want my blog to be a safe space and that this is a place where not everything is perfect. I love y'all and please take care and don't stress yourselves <33)

also, fuck that toxic positivity shit that just makes mfs more drained. if you feel demotivated address it don't push it away

[ausssbutlershortstories]

The Fandom & Unhealthy Shipping

Hello. In light of all the uproar and recent focus on Austin’s relationship. I felt moved to post this. As someone who isn’t exactly a fan of the relationship he has with Kaia Gerber, I feel like this is needed. Us “fake fans” as some may call it are tired of being silenced and bullied.

I will like to start off with that I love Austin. I want, as well as other fans like myself to see him thrive. Not just in his career , but in his love life too. I am in a very serious relationship myself , and see myself spending the rest of my life with the man I am with right now. I want that for Austin , I want him to have the love he deserves, that I am sure he craves. I want to see him happy again. The same way he was when he was with Vanessa Hudgens.

As we all know Austin began dating Kaia December 2021. From jump…I knew something was very odd about them. We all did , including those who call themselves “shippers” now. That itself should tell you something when a fanbase as a whole damn near feel something was off about the relationship. None of us were “jealous”. I have been in a few fan bases in my lifetime. Typically you can tell when there is pure jealousy vs genuinely getting a bad feeling about a person.Normally when people are “jealous”, it’s only a select few. A handful of unhinged weirdos who no one really cares for anyways.I have never seen it where the majority of the fanbase are on the same level. The same thoughts and uneasy feelings.I also wanna add when people are just jealous they never give a detailed, logical answer on why they feel a certain way about their favorite’s partner.It’s always some blind rage and childish reasons to be against a relationship.I don’t get that with the people from this fandom who side eye whatever Austin has with Kaia. We all knew something was just not right with them from the get go. Between Kaia breaking it off with Jacob Elordi a month before she got with Austin, and snatching him up before all his Elvis craze. We knew there some shady shit at play here. Especially since her and Jacob dressed as Elvis and Pricilla the Halloween before they broke up.It’s like she had some creepy Elvis fetish.Also, let’s not get started on how no one really knows the true story on how Kaia and Austin met,which is quite unusual. Almost every Hollywood couple has some story on how they met, even the bs PR relationships do. 2-3 years later and we still don’t know anything. Very peculiar to say the least.

As Austin grew bigger, the relationship progressed more. Kaia’s name was always attached to him some way , some how. There were pap walks, her being with him at events. No matter what Austin did , Kaia’s name was somewhere in the mix. That’s when people started to suspect that the relationship had to be PR. Not saying they definitely are PR BUT the way they moved , there was something just so unnatural about it. People started calling it out and voicing their concerns. However somewhere along the line certain fans began to do a 180, out of no where people started shipping them together and actually liking Kaia. Which was extremely questioning.

If you changed your mind about something/someone okay…that’s one thing. But to change your thinking and then proceed to bully others is a no go. Ever since then multiple people have been ran out the fandom, or bullied into to silence for still upholding the same thoughts on Kaia. Not being a fan of her and this relationship, thinking that Austin can do better. It’s like it suddenly became a golden rule to ship the relationship or get backed into a corner and harassed and have people assume that you’re some jealous bitch.

Lately though, some of us are beginning to speak out and stand on what we think. We are simply sick and tired of not being able to enjoy Austin without other fans making everything about Kaia. Everything he says and does. He smiles…it must be about Kaia. He wears a purple hoodie…must be Kaia’s…he mentions a damn dog….ooop he is really talking about mf Kaia. This man is 10 years older than her, he is his own person. Not everything he does is about his “girlfriend.” He has his own thoughts and feelings. His own personality. His own identity. He is not a puppet Kaia controls that just abides by what she says and has her mannerisms.

Us who do not ship this relationship have a right to do so in peace. We have a right to our opinions and a right to discuss them. We have a right to voice our validated concerns for what we see. It’s not like we are reaching and pulling things out of our asses. After all, the whole fanbase almost as a whole all thought the same thing at first about this relationship. Some of us just kept our opinions the same.We didn’t sit there and change it for the sake of followers and clout…like some. We are actually concerned for Austin’s well being.

With that being said. Stop harassing people and bitching because they do not want to ship this relationship. Stop bugging people when they say that he has good chemistry with someone else other than Kaia. Stop coming into people’s inboxes pretending like you are someone else but really you’re just trying to aggravate people by the questions you ask. People are not dumb , they know they know it be shippers low key on anons. Us here on this side do not come bugging and bitching about your opinions so why do that to us? Why does it matter to you so much that we be on board with what this bs? We are fans of AUSTIN BUTLER..not Kaia.

It shouldn’t matter if we do not support the relationship or not. We are here for his work. Half of y’all do not even care about Austin it seems outside that damn relationship anyway. Which…says a lot. Yet you have the AUDACITY to say we can’t be a real fan just because we don’t care for Kaia Gerber.Just know if you were so confident in Kaia and Austin’s relationship you will not be pressing others about their outlook on it just because it’s opposite of yours. It’s ridiculous you are this uptight like the relationship is yours. You guys are not Kaia Gerber so stop trying to live through her by projecting your raggedy ass delusions on everyone. All you’re doing is creating a divide in the fandom no one wants.

Just stay in your lane and let people who don’t want to make this relationship their entire life stay in their own. While we may disagree with y’all…we let you have your space to discuss your thoughts & feelings on your own platforms , so please do the same for us.

Note: Shipping real life people is weird. It’s fine to think two people are cute together and have good chemistry. It’s okay to do little cute fan edits and such. But when your shipping starts disturbing the peace in a fandom there is an issue. These are real people not a Prince and a Princess in a Disney fairytale. Calm down when people don’t agree with you and let it go!

[restinslices]

Could you possibly do a scenario where the reader goes to Johnny and asks him for romantic advice because she has a crush on Kitana or Mileena? “Man I’m desperate, I had no idea who else to ask.” Type of scenario.

This kinda short. It only has 1101 words and idk if I fully like this but fuck it, we ball. Idk why I’m so bad at fluff😭

Content Warning: Johnny

The word “crush” was typically used by children. Almost everyone has had a crush in their younger years. Someone in their class, or a random person in a hall, or someone in a higher grade level. Even celebrity crushes are usually talked about by younger people. Because of this, people tended to foolishly think that having a crush would no longer be a thing when they got older.

You were one of those people. Unfortunately, you found out that that way of thinking was false.

You hoped it was simply attraction when it came to Kitana, but the more time you spent together, the more you realized it went beyond that. Everything about her was perfect. Her hair, her smile, the way she’d scoff when hearing something stupid, her need to protect her family and defend the innocent. That was just a small list of what made Kitana amazing. 

You groaned and put your head in your hands. You were so pathetically in love with her and had no idea if she’d ever feel the same way about you.

”I’m almost done with the story. Relax” Johnny elbowed your arm and smiled at you. For weeks you debated on whether or not you should ask someone for advice. It couldn’t be Liu Kang, because that felt like asking a parent. Kung Lao and Raiden were busy training new recruits, so you didn’t wanna bother them. Any other allies like Syzoth, Ashrah, Kuai Liang and Tomas were busy with other things. Bi-Han… well… you couldn’t ask him for obvious reasons. You probably wouldn't have even if he hadn’t betrayed everyone. 

That left you with one other option that was in Earthrealm. Johnny Cage.

Pros? Johnny had plenty of experience with romance, so he had to have some sort of advice.

Cons? Johnny is Johnny. Johnny tends to blab about his movies, like he was doing now. To be fair to him though, you hadn’t worked up the courage to admit you wanted his help. It just seemed strange to have to ask for help with a crush as an adult. 

You lifted your head and looked at him. You don't know what he saw on the other side of his shades -or why he was wearing shades indoors- but it must've tipped him off that something was wrong. 

“I have a feeling you're not worried about whether or not the movie had a happy ending”. You rolled your eyes at his joke. You hadn't even been listening the whole time he was talking. 

“Absolutely not”. Johnny leaned back against the couch and sucked his teeth. 

“You sure?”

“Positive” He booed at you, which made you swat his arm. “I got serious shit I need help with”. He looked at you as if saying “go on”. So you did before you'd say nevermind and run out of there. You let it all spill out. How much you liked Kitana, how you had no idea how to make a move on her and other pathetic sounding things that came out before you could stop it. When you finished, Johnny sighed and took off his shades. 

“And of course you came to me for help” he said with pride. “I am a love expert”

“Please!” You scoffed. “I just had no one else to go to. You're a last resort Cage-”. He put his finger against your lips to shush you. 

“Shhh… it's okay. I'd ask myself for advice too if I were you- hey!” he pulled his finger back when you tried to bite him. “No biting the love expert”. 

“Already regretting this” you mumbled. Johnny either didn't hear or didn't care. You had your bets on the latter. 

“So you want Kitana? Now that's a woman! You're gonna have to be real smooth to earn her heart”. Those weren't really helpful words but you kept listening anyway. “Kitana seems like she'd love confidence. You can't be all small and scared. You gotta walk with confidence”. He pulled you up to your feet after he stood up. “Puff your chest out”. 

“What?”. Johnny moved to your side and pushed on your back, making you slightly arch and your chest raise. “This feels ridiculous”. Johnny shook his head. 

“Women love confidence. Kitana loves confidence. This gives the image of confidence. Now walk with confidence”. 

Walk with confidence?

You started to walk how you usually did but Johnny stopped you immediately. “No! Walk with confidence!”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“You gotta walk with long strides but a little slow. Like a model”

“You want me to walk slow?” You looked him up and down with distrust. “Why?”. 

“It'll give her more time to look at you”. You felt stupid, but you did it again and again until Johnny was satisfied. It felt more like bootcamp than love help. 

“Now here comes the confession part. The trick…” you leaned in in anticipation. “Don't”. 

“Wha-”

“No questions without a raised hand”

“I'm gonna raise my hand and beat you with it”

“And I will prosecute you to the highest extent of the law”

“AnD i WiLl-”

“Do you want Kitana or not?”

“Of course I do!”. Johnny put his finger to his lip in a shushing motion. You sucked up your pride and stopped talking. 

“Now, you don't wanna confess. None of that 'oh I love everything about you. I think you're so beautiful and intelligent’ nonsense. You approach her-”. Johnny put back on his shades, put his hands on his hips and got uncomfortably close. “Listen babe, you and I… we could be something. You're diggin’ me and I'm diggin’ you. This Saturday we got a date”. 

“Shouldn't I ask instead of telling her to go on a date with me?”. Johnny shook his head at you. 

“You do that and you don't seem confident! Remember confidence is the key!”. 

This made no sense. So let's recap. Johnny wanted you to puff your chest like a peacock, walk like a model and tell Kitana that you two were going on a date instead of asking? 

Maybe you should've just googled this. 

“Um, okay… great talk Johnny” you patted his shoulder then walked towards the door before he could protest. “Great talk. Brilliant talk. Enjoyed it. I'll remember it!”. You closed the door behind you and sped walked to your car, leaving Johnny alone in his house. 

Once you got in your car, you sighed. Well… that was something that happened. You pulled out your phone and went to the voice notes app. 

“Note to self. Never ever ask Johnny Cage for love advice again”. 

[writeyouin]

How about a platonic request? How would Mtmte Ratchet, Rodimus and Whirl react to seeing their normally quiet and reserved human friend losetheir temper and completely go off on another bot. They might be small but that doesn’t mean they won’t try and defend their friend if needed.

Transformers MTMTE / LL Reader Inserts – Flying Off the Handle

A/N – Here is the first on the headcanons list that I’m shooting out.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Ratchet

Ratchet is a grown mech, older than most, and far too old to take this slag from a disrespectful young mech.

He’s about to go off on one of his old men tirades. It’s the kind that always makes the younger mechs feel ashamed, but you beat him to it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You seethe, glaring at a bot six times your size.

“What?” The bot deadpans, looking at you like you’re nothing.

“Ratchet does everything around here. You would be dead if it wasn’t for him and you have the nerve to backtalk?!”

This is where Ratchet jumps in. “I expect nothing from fools like you. Get out of my med-bay. Go on, ”

The other bot leaves grumbling.

You’re still full of energy and wish that you had chance to expend it, but now Ratchet’s attention is on you.

“Don’t ever do that again,” He orders, worried about all the ways that could have ended badly and the ways in which you might have gotten hurt.

“But-” You start.

Ratchet holds up a servo, “I can handle myself. Don’t do it again!”

You wilt slightly, upset that you’ve offended Ratchet when really it’s the opposite, but Ratchet doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. In all honesty, he’s proud of you. You’re brave, polite, and when push comes to shove, you won’t take shit from anyone. But you’re also human, and humans are delicate.

“Promise me,” Ratchet says sternly.

You nod, then excuse yourself from the med-bay. You want to be alone for a while.

Rodimus

Rodimus is loving this. One minute the two of you were having a laugh at “Visages” then a bot said something about Rodimus being a bad captain and you had completely lost it.

You threw a bottle which smashed off the big bot’s chassis effectively getting his attention and then you started ripping into him, listing off all the good things that Rodimus has done as Captain.

The whole bar is watching you. The music stopped, but the dance lights are still going, painting you in a variety of colours as you continue to yell.

Somewhere across the bar, Rewind is filming this, and afterwards, Rodimus knows he’s going to ask for a copy of that footage.

Still, there is a small part of Rodimus that knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this. He knows that it’s irresponsible. The bot could fight back, or seek revenge and you could get hurt.

But… He’s going to let you go off a little longer before he calls off the attack. He needs to hear why you think he’s a good captain. You’re his friend, and he has to hear you say it, because you’ll tell it like it is; you always do.

Yet, just in case, Rodimus is ready to grab you or plce his servo in front of you at a moment’s notice, just in case.

Yet for now, he needs this, and by the rage in your voice, it seems that you needed to blow of steam too.

Whirl

If Whirl had a jaw to drop, he would. As is, the only difference in demeanour is that his pupil dilates as he watches you scream at the bot in front of you.

It’s usually him that flies off the handle at things. In every instance that he has known you, it has always been Whirl looking out for you, protecting you, and yes, often irrationally losing his temper when there’s an offhanded comment made about you.

You’ve heard other bots insult Whirl before. Usually, they don’t get very far before Whirl throws a punch.

Yet, in those instances, you always remained calm, or hid if Whirl was fighting since that’s what he always told you to do because he doesn’t want to see his human pet hurt.

On the few instances that you thought Whirl wasn’t there, he’s heard you defend him to other mechs. He knows you’re always telling other mechs how good he is but you’re always being polite about it.

Yet this time, a mech said something and Whirl and… For the first time, he really didn’t give a frag.

It was a lazy insult anyway so he just ignored it, thinking about all the times he’s nearly gotten you into trouble.

But this aft of a mech isn’t letting this go that easily. Whirl is trying to walk away with you in tow, and this guy just keeps pushing him,

Yet, before Whirl can lose his cool, you do.

“CAN YOU JUST FUCK OFF?!”

Silence follows. The other mech doesn’t know how to respond. Everyone knows you, and you’ve never once shouted… Except for Mario Kart Rainbow Road, but everybody shouts at that.

You don’t stop. “WHIRL IS DOING HIS BEST AND YOU’RE FUCKING PUSHING HIM. WHY? SO YOU CAN GET A REACTION THEN PRETEND IT’S ALL ‘COS HE HAS A SHORT FUSE. FUCK THAT.”

You stop shouting but you’re no less irate as you continue your tirade about how this is the problem. Everyone is so set on how Cybertronians should act since everyone has long memories, but sometimes, people want to change and personalities aren’t set in stone.

In the end, the offending mech looks a little bit embarrassed. He mumbles an apology to you, and you correct him, telling him it’s not you he should say sorry to.

The mech very bitterly chokes out an apology to Whirl who is all too smug about this and makes a big performance out of accepting the apology, only toning it down when you elbow his leg.

The next day, you wake up to a leather biker jacket lying on your bed. On the back, scribbled messily is one word: Bodyguard.

[yggdraseed]

An Incomplete Analysis of the Sukunadome

I stress the point that this is an inherently incomplete analysis. It's getting late, I'm tired and unhappy, and… well, the fight isn't over yet, so there's no way this analysis could be complete even if I felt like it. However, it's on my mind, and I feel the need to start exerting myself more on these things. Sometimes sweat is the better medicine. I know this is a long one and doesn’t have any pictures, but if we all support each other, we’ll get through it together.

Full disclosure, I wish more people had gotten filtered by this fight and just stopped talking about Jujutsu Kaisen by now. Like yeah, I think it's great different people see things in different ways, but let's all be honest with ourselves here, most of the people criticizing this fight are not doing so with any sort of literary or artistic perspective or good faith. Most of it is Gojo fans who are still crying, seething, vomiting, pissing, and shitting over the fact that the character they attached their ego to didn't win Jujutsu Kaisen like they wanted. If this describes you, well, this post will probably do you some good, but I'm confident nobody who takes the stance that Gojo should have won would have the space in their mind for what I'm about to say about Sukunadome.

Because that's what I'm calling it. "The Sukuna Cycle" was maybe a little funny for a week or two, but like most memes about this series, it wasn't really based on the story so much as it was on an agenda. Kusakabe was part of the fight since Yuji and Higuruma entered, and up until Miguel, we knew all the combatants who would be tagging in were there. We knew Yuta was off dealing with Kenjaku and would return, we knew Maki was in play, and there really weren't a lot of switches. Just Choso leaving and coming back, Ui Ui retrieving Higuruma's and Gojo's corpses, and… you know, actually, I think that's it. Sure isn't as much as the "Sukuna Cycle" memes made it out to be, huh?

Okay, if you haven't noticed yet, I'm a big JJK fan and a big JJK fandom hater. I think JJK has the worst Western internet fanbase I've seen in a long time, with only a few oases scattered across the internet where you can find intelligent life. Like it's insane what kind of bullshit a person can convince themselves of.

However, I'm not analyzing JJK's fanbase, I'm analyzing JJK. Someday we'll litigate whether or not Lobotomy Kaisen was really funny enough to justify how badly it ruined this fanbase's ability to objectively, productively engage with with one of the most competently written and culturally impactful manga to come out this century. Today is not that day.

So Sukuna's got four arms and knows how to use them. He's got four eyes and so much sass one mouth wasn't enough for the amount of trash he's got to talk to the youths of today. Just on a basic level, having four arms would be such an insignificant power in any other Shonen as to almost be a joke. Yet with how jujutsu sorcery functions as a power system and how adept Sukuna is at using every possible advantage at his disposal - even going so far as to take what probably should be disadvantages and twist them to work for him - having the ability to make hand seals while fighting hand-to-hand, and being able to chant without interrupting his breathing, are inseparable from Sukuna's godlike fighting ability. I love how something seemingly so mundane is such a huge x factor for Sukuna.

We continually see how Sukuna is a complex, but fundamentally vile antagonist. He has a very rich, detailed view of the world, but one that fundamentally reduces every other human being to be his playthings and food. It's just that Sukuna says, "Don't like it? Then get stronger." It's a very Social Darwinist, late stage capitalist view to be coming from the Heian Era, and I think that maybe it's intentional. Shitty people are shitty in mostly the same ways, it's just they find new things to be shitty about or to use to be shitty with.

Like if that were all it is, it'd make Sukuna so effective as a villain to hate and would slot so nicely into Jujutsu Kaisen's overarching social and political commentary. Cruelty within suffering, selfishness as a strength and a weakness, the unfairness of how the strength to pursue one's agency is unevenly distributed and how the haves don’t realize how easily they could have instead been have-nots, it's all there.

But there’s this inherent charisma to Sukuna that I think is intentional. He has this noblesse oblige where he’s so inherently aware of his greatness that he doesn’t have a problem with giving credit where credit is due. Like he talks all the trash when he’s fighting Jogo, but where Gojo’s insults come across as puerile and blunt, Sukuna’s always displaying this wit to him. And when the battle’s over, he acknowledges that even though Jogo wasn’t as strong as him, he was stronger than most and could have gone even further if he hadn’t held himself back. He starts off belittling Gojo in their fight, but by the end, he expresses a profound respect and gratitude towards Gojo. Like it’s a very warped form of those sentiments, but I think it’s sincere. Even with Ishigori, when Sukuna fails to cut him the first time, he just acknowledges it was disrespectful to hold back and that he’ll give it full force the next strike.

Something to keep in mind is that everything Megumi warned Yuji about when it comes to ancient sorcerers applies to Sukuna as well. They’re not treated as uniformly, unambiguously evil anymore than anyone else in JJK is, and are acknowledged as having fundamentally different world views about violence and the value of human life. Kashimo, for instance, seems to value his life only because he’s able to risk his life and lay it on the line. They’re people from an era where children died so young that parents often gave them numbered names so as to not get too attached until they’d see if their kids actually were going to make it or not. If you didn’t give your whole life over to a goal, you probably wouldn’t achieve it. Whereas modern sorcerers, modern people, have all these complex and sometimes contradictory views and needs, ancient sorcerers show a tendency to shave everything away except their one singular conviction because that was what you had to do in an era of much shorter life expectancies and peril on all sides. You’d be very lucky to accomplish one life goal, let alone as many as people of today set out to achieve: graduating high school, graduating college, getting a job, starting a family, and hopefully having one or two passions on the side. Fundamentally different worldviews from fundamentally different periods of history.

And Sukuna is no different. His goal is simple: partake in the many colors and flavors of humanity through mortal combat in the arena of sorcery. Sukuna’s love for sorcery runs deep. He’s always curious about different cursed techniques, even ones that are pedestrian to a sorcerer of his level, like Nanako’s smartphone-based technique. He reminds me of a quote from Baki: “Someone who works hard can never beat someone who enjoys himself.” Sukuna has clearly put forth great effort to master sorcery, but clearly doesn’t see it as work. He sees it as just doing what he enjoys and is good at.

Unfortunately for everyone else, he enjoys killing and is extremely good at it. Sukuna is the ultimate ethical heat death of the “live for yourself, cherish your own agency, don’t let yourself be controlled” mindset that is the ideological starting point of JJK. It’s a very dark, extreme interpretation of Buddhist non-attachment, where even compassion is an attachment to ultimately shed. Sukuna lives perfectly freely, including being free from guilt or compassion.

Naturally, there’s an exception. All things seem to have exceptions. In Sukuna’s case, that would be Uraume. I’ve been fascinated by their dynamic since we first learned of Uraume’s allegiance to Sukuna during Shibuya and I still can’t wait to know more. Suffice to say, Sukuna dotes on Uraume, forgiving their mistakes and seeming to enjoy their company not just because of their service to him, but because their existence makes him happy. I’m reminded of Power in Chainsaw Man, how she was seemingly incapable of empathy or mercy until she met Meowy.

Honestly, Sukuna reminds me a lot of a lot of characters in Chainsaw Man. People who are trying to climb from this state of misery, of struggling just to meet basic desires, and learning to be human. Yet Sukuna is so strong he never needed to learn to be human. He never needed to cooperate with others to survive — or at least, doesn’t seem to believe he did — and so he never saw the value in it. And so he’s basically brute forced his way around having to undergo an arc like Denji’s, and has instead ended up a hedonistic black hole devising all these complicated philosophical arguments to justify what is, really, a very simplistic, predatory desire to only satisfy his basic material wants and creative interests and nothing else for anyone else.

But like, it’s not that simple. If you give to others, you get something immaterial in return. I can’t quantity it or define it, but I’m sure most of you know what I mean. The happiness that comes from taking care of others’ needs, and the deeper levels beyond that happiness. Like I do believe that’s the subtext behind Binding Vows as metaphor: that you almost never give without getting in return. You might not get the same thing back, in the same form, but being changed by the act of putting the needs and wants of others before your own even temporarily still is part of the exchange. It’s part of becoming complete as a human being.

Sukuna has defied that exchange and broken the cycle, and I don’t think it’s inherently for his own benefit. There are some thing about being human that you don’t just get to opt out of, no matter how much you claim you’re more than or less than human. Even if Sukuna doesn’t think he’s lost something of value, he has. And that something of value is inherent to the whole point of this final battle.

Jujutsu Kaisen is basically working on two big problems. There are lots of ideas at play in the series, but there are two fundamental problems for which every fiight, every character arc, every turn of the gears consitutes part of the calculus to solve one or both of those problems.

The first problem, a thematic and philosophical one: “How do you love and fight for something when you know you’re going to die?”

The second problem, a metatextual one: “Is there any artistic and social value left in the Shonen formula as it stands in the modern day?”

And this fight is, ultimately, where GeGe is showing their work. It’s where Yuji has to defeat Sukuna, if not in terms of out-boxing him, then in terms of prevailing over his beliefs about humanity and the world as a whole.

GeGe has stripped Yuji of everything that is supposed to determine the worth of a Shonen protagonist’s victory. He’s not fighting alone, he didn’t go off and train all by himself, he trained with a lot of powerful, smart people who helped him. And Yuji is arguably not even the most important participant in the fight. So why should we care if Yuji wins?

The answer is so simple it’s easy to lose track of it. Yuji is risking his life to rescue someone, his friend, from being exploited, and to save the people of Japan from being exploited. Even after everything that’s happened, Yuji plants his fucking feet and takes a stance that no, shithead, there is such a thing as the right thing. Maybe it isn’t obvious all the time, and it sure as hell isn’t always easy to know what it is, but he knows now with certainty what it isn’t: to exploit others or to destroy yourself. We can find our answers somewhere in-between.

Sometimes we can’t resolve our problems with a tidy solution that makes everyone happy and sometimes we have to carve a piece of ourselves out and give to something we won’t be sure to see the fruition of, but that’s just life. It doesn’t mean we have to throw away all hope for things to get better. Even if the world won’t become utopian, it can still become better, no matter how many nihilists hide their own inequities behind assertions that there is no point.

Nihilism is not a solution to the problems of life, it is the choice to run away and hide. To give into nihilism is to give up the fight even while other people are still fighting all around you.

So that’s the fucking point of the Sukunadome. Nobara already said it better than anyone else has before she made Mahito look like the bitch he was and always will be: “Sometimes you need to fight even when you know you can’t win.” Because you won’t always win and you won’t escape death, nor will you know what lies beyond death. However, you can still live according to your principles and fight for the things you see as meaningful even if other people don’t.

That is why so many characters have come and gone from the fight. All gave some, some gave all. Nobody is truly useless — even if Miwa self-deprecatingly jokes about being useless, she still was the one thing standing between Maki and Malevolent Shrine’s eviscerating hellscape. Even Amai’s sweets-conjuring joke technique saved Hana from a would-be fatal fall and helped to supply sugar to the brains of people using reverse cursed technique in Shoko’s triage. Larue couldn’t do much, but they caught Sukuna’s eye at the perfect time for Yuji to land a Black Flash, and that means something. It all means something.

Given how deeply GeGe clearly respects Hunter X Hunter, I want to end off by citing one of the quotes in Hunter X Hunter that has been the most impactful for me and I suspect has been about as impactful on GeGe: “It seems small things… infinitesimally small things… are needed to build the entire universe. The size of a thing has nothing to do with its power.” We always seem to direct our senses to the superlatives. The largest, the oldest, the loudest, the things that hit the hardest. But while it would be wrong to throw those out, we often lose sight of how many little, important things there are in the midst of those huge, important things.

Seeing someone’s smile when you remembered something they said that showed you were listening to them. The feeling of a warm breeze on a summer morning. The smell of honeysuckle on your walk home. Waking up to rain on a Sunday. The taste of watermelon. Getting married. Having your heart broken. Songs that make you smile, songs that make you cry — songs that do both, and songs that make you feel things you can’t describe. When you’re always looking to those immense, monolithic things, always comparing your seemingly small, seemingley meaningless life to them, you lose sight of just how meaningful all of it is.

Just because it doesn’t have cosmic, absolute meaning doesn’t make it meaningless. Every little thing that means something to you is worthy of being cherished. The people around you, the things that bring you happiness, even if that happiness is going to ebb and flow. It’s all worth fighting for and living for. It just takes bravery and conviction to keep fighting and keep living with authenticity and love. And if there’s an artistic value, a greater meaning to Shonen, now and always, it’s the unerring, unabashed belief that there’s a reason to aim high and not give up.

Because sometimes, life hurts. But if it’s just pain, Yuji Itadori will never stop. We’ll see what I have to amend, reconsider, or elaborate on when the fight is finished. I hope this gave some of you a new way to look at it.

[darkwolf989]

Valentino x daughter reader how would he react to reader sneaking out then coming home in the middle of the night drunk and how would the rest of the vees react. Also don't forget to drink water love!

Hi!

I actually think I have a double of this request, so I'm writing two different stories so I can answer both requests <3

Here is the first one! Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

Being Valentino’s daughter wasn’t easy.

Sure, my Aunt and Uncle were Velvette and Vox- and together the three of them made up the most powerful overlords in all of the Pride ring. 

But being Valentino’s daughter meant that everywhere I went, I had an escort. Which meant misbehaving as a general rule was greatly frowned up, if not proactively prevented. It meant wearing a VoxTech watch and clothes that were almost certainly bugged and tracked- just in case.

Many demons want to hurt us, mi amore, my father explained to me when I was little. We just want to make sure you’re safe.

At age five, those safety features came in handy. All my teachers bent over backwards to be nice to me- especially after I hit Vox’s face on my watch for the first time and he came raging into the school. At age ten, it meant birthday parties under the watchful eye of either one of them, or a body guard. At age thirteen, it meant my friends group kept secrets to include me in the latest parties. And by sixteen, I had perfected the art of sneaking out of the tower at night.

But maybe not the art of sneaking back in. 

Somehow, I found myself in the lobby of the V tower, the room spinning. Sure, I had been drinking, but not enough to get drunk. Never enough to get drunk. My Daddy had warned me early on to say no to drugs and to watch my drink. 

Carefully, out of view of my Uncle Vox’s cameras, I slipped into the elevator and hit the sixth floor button. Our flat was on the seventh floor, but if I entered on the sixth floor and climbed the staircase, I could sneak in a hellofalot easier. I leaned back against the elevator and sank to the floor as the lurch of the elevator knocked me off balance. As I heard each floor ding past, I giggled to myself. 

The door opened and I slowly made my way towards the back of the dark flat. I wasn’t technically allowed in here but I wasn’t…disallowed either. Was that the right word? Not like my Daddy’s studio where I wasn’t allowed, ever.

Slowly, I climbed up the stairs, pausing to catch my breath every few steps. The feeling of vibration, of the room spinning was getting worse. Wait! I had just the thing! I sank to the floor just outside the door that led into our flat and dug around in my purse until I found it. A shot of vodka, given to me by a boy at the party. What did they call it? Hair of the dog? What a silly name. 

I swallowed the contents of the bottle and pulled myself back to my feet as I pushed open the door. My stomach churned and I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or if I needed to be sick. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I made my way towards the living room. I just needed to get to my room, just a few more steps….

All at once, the lights came flooding on. I groaned and sank down to the floor for the third time. Shit. Had Uncle Vox installed motion sensor lights since the last time I went out?

“What are you doing Ninita?” my father’s voice growled from the elevator. 

“Daddy? Wh, why’re you awake?” I slurred. 

The feeling of the room spinning was worse now. I laid on my back and pointed my knees to the ceiling. 

“I’m just coming home from work. The better question is, why are you up? And what the fuck are you wearing?” He demanded.

He knelt down next to me and leaned his face down next to mine. I stared at the ceiling and swore I saw my Uncle Vox and Auntie Velvette looking down at me. But that would be silly, right?

“Daddy, why are you working so late?” I mumbled. 

“Have you been drinking?” Vox’s voice demanded.

“Sure looks like it,” Velvette’s voice chimed in.

“And smells like it. Alright, let’s get you to bed little girl,” my father’s voice said firmly. “Or at the very least on your side.”

“I haven’t been out, I swear!” I half yelled as my father pulled me to my feet. I felt myself pitch forward and his arms caught my waist.

“We don’t care where you’ve been, can you tell me what’s in your system at least?” Valentino asked as he half carried me to the bedroom. “Vel, I need you to…get her into pjamas or something.”

“Vodka! Oops. I mean, soda. Rum! Coke?” I answered with a giggle. “The good stuff.”

“The drug or the drink?” He asked as he sat me on the bed. 

I felt his fingers under my chin and I giggled as I fell to the side. 

“I’m going to assume the drink,” he mumbled. 

I watched him step back and turn away. Velvette stepped forward and the next thing I knew I was in my pajamas on my side. All the sudden, the joy I felt went away, replaced by an ache in my belly. 

“Who wants to babysit?” I heard Valentino ask.

“Daddy? I don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

I felt hands lift me upright and my head rested against the plastic of the garbage can. 

“That’s right ninita, get it all out,” I heard my father mutter. “Vel, can you braid back her hair? And Vox, go downstairs, grab an IV kit so she doesn’t wake up with…”

“No, Valentino. Don’t baby her. I mean, don’t let her die but let her suffer the consequences of a hangover,” Vox replied. “Let her wake up feeling shitty.”

“Vox is right, you know, maybe it will make her less likely to do it again,” Velvette added. 

“I think I’m good! Gimmie the…gimmie the IV Daddy,” I lifted my head up.

Valentino gently wiped my mouth. “I think it’s time for bed, ninita. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Daddy I’m fine! I’m…” I leaned over the garbage can as more liquid came up. “Ugh…my tummy hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s going to,” he muttered. “Just get it out of your belly.” 

The next thing I knew the sunlight streamed through the window. Every part of my body ached and I groaned at the aching in my head. 

“Good morning sunshine! Nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of the living!” Vox’s too loud voice echoed in my bedroom.

I cringed. “Ow, Uncle Vox turn the sun off.”

“Aw, baby does your head hurt? How’s that tummy feel? A little nauseous?” He asked. “Here, I’ve got two pills and a red gatorade for you. Down they go. When you’re ready, I’ll make you toast.”

“What happened? Where’s dad?” I muttered as I took the proffered medicine. “Ugh, my head. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You’re the one who decided to drink last night,” Vox said lightly. 

“I need a shower,” I grumbled as I swung my legs off the bed. I stood up and the room spun. I felt Vox’s hands hold me for support. 

“Let’s get you hydrated before you go solo, com’on. Out to the living room,” he said.

I flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Fucking hell, was this what a true hangover felt like? God, I never wanted to drink again. 

“Not feeling too good, hm mi amore?” My Dad’s voice floated across the livingroom. 

I felt his hand on my forehead. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to sneak out,” he said lightly as he pushed back my hair. 

I felt a cool cloth cover my forehead and eyes and let out an exhale. “Ah, Daddy that feels good. You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out, I’m never drinking again, I swear.”

“If you change your mind, I promise getting out will be a lot harder next time,” Vox’s voice added. 

“Just make the pain go away,” I begged.

“Sorry sweetheart, time is the only cure. But we can discuss your consequence when you’re feeling better,” Valentino replied. “Until then, might as well close your eyes.” 

I groaned. “You’re the overlord of lust and depravity, don’t you have a magic cure or something?”

I heard him laugh. “Oh sweetheart. This is one lesson you have to learn on your own.”

[idontplaytrack]

i need buff reader x janis, who carries janis and places her on her lap when janis doesn’t wanna eat 😫😫

Where else would I be, baby?

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, bad eating habits

In which Janis sometimes gets so busy she doesn’t even think about eating and reader has eventually come up with ways to have her eat something

“Oh, my God.” The second you stepped into the house, you saw Janis out in the backyard, art supplies sprawled all over the floor. You rushed over to her, “Janis. You’re still here?”

“Where else would I be, baby?” She asks, barely glancing at you.

“Have you been sitting here all day?” You crouched down to talk to her, then just sat down.

“I did get up to use the bathroom.” She tells you, eyes completely focused on her art piece.

You raised your brows, perplexed. “Did you eat anything at all?”

“Didn’t you even think about it.” She mutters.

“I’ve been gone six hours, Janis.” You looked at her, horrified.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Because you’ve been here, engrossed in your art.” You sighed, “Come on, let’s go out for dinner.”

“No, I need to get this done.” She says dismissively, “And you just got back from work, so…”

“So, we need to eat.” You stated.

“You go.”

You scoffed, “Janis.”

“y/n.” She mocks.

You exhaled, a little frustrated, “Janis, come on. It’s dinner time and you barely ate anything at breakfast.”

“Yeah, being on a period will do that to ya.” She laughs dryly.

“You know what I’ll do.”

“Try it, I don’t care.” She replies, tongue sticking out slightly between her lips in concentration. “I need to finish this tonight. I’ve been putting this off doing nothing for like two weeks.”

“I’m literally about to pick you up off the floor so you will sit at the table while I make dinner. If I have to spoon feed you so you’ll eat something, I will do it too.”

“Sure.” Janis chuckles. “Please do that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You nearly snorted, standing up. Easily, you picked her up when she least expected it and walked into the dining area then placed her on the stool by the island.

She sulked, clearly defeated. Janis groans, resting her head on folded arms. “I know you like working on your art, but you gotta remember to take care of yourself, baby.”

“I know, I know.” She sighs softly, “I just forget. If I busy myself with something I don’t even feel hunger, it’s like the last thing on my mind.”

“Which is why I told you…you gotta take a break every now and then, get up and stretch, walk, drink some water, have a snack.” You turned around to face her completely for a moment. “You need to eat to survive.”

Janis sighs, “It’s a bad habit, I’m sorry.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m helping you out with that.” You shrug. There was leftover rice in the fridge from last night so you took that out and opened up a can of Spam, along with the half-used bag of frozen vegetables. All that in a pan, dinner was settled and ready soon enough.

“Are you gonna try to avoid me now that the food’s done?” You eyed her suspiciously. She struggled with it sometimes. She’s never said it, but her actions spoke louder than words.

She doesn’t say anything but sulked and raised her brows. A sigh then falls from her lips as you plated the food. You left your portion in the pan though, literally instructing her to sit in your lap so she couldn’t go anywhere until she’s had her food. You weren’t eating anything until you knew she’s eaten. You’ve had your lunch, she hadn’t. So, you know, she had to eat. You could wait a few minutes more.

But of course, Janis was a little shit sometimes. Refusing to even sit down beside you now. “Ipo.” You exhaled harshly, “It’s like you want me to put you in my lap just so you’ll stay put and eat.”

She grins, “Maybe I do. Be my guest.”

Without a second thought, you grabbed her off her feet, away from the fridge. Closing its door in the process, “That was too easy.”

“Yeah, you’re jacked.” A chuckle falls from her lips.

“Okay, now— eat up.” You handed her the spoon. Janis jokingly groans but still dug into the food. You rested your chin on her shoulder with an arm wrapped around her waist.

“How was work?”

“I smell like popcorn, and I got new blisters. And a customer yelled at me today, so…same old, same old.” You laughed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Ouch.” She turned her head slightly, seething at your revelation. Then, she spots the red bumps on your hand. “That looks…painful.”

“Eh.”

“Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“My head hurts, so I think I’m gonna go take a hot shower afterwards first before I eat.”

“You can go now.” Janis tells you, shoving a spoonful of the fried rice into her mouth.

“I kinda don’t want to.” You said quietly, arm tightening around her waist.

“Hm, why’s that?” She asked, a cheeky smile forming on her face.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose, trying not to chuckle, “I just wanna spend some time with you, is that so bad?”

“Aww.” Janis teases, “Go drink some water. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

“No way. You’ll run away from here and we both know that’s a fact.” You gasped, “You’re my prisoner until you finish this plate.”

“Oh wow.” She replies, bored.

“Excuse me?” She played along, “Janis ‘Imi’ike. Just trying to make sure you stop this unhealthy habit eventually.”

She ends up giggling, “Sorry, baby. I know.” Janis turned to look at you, beaming. You sighed, “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?”

“Oh, I am?”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek, reaching your hand up to squeeze her chin, “Yes. Yes, you are.”

🏷️ Tag list

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N

I’m actually giggling at my screen reading back on this drabble lmao.

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[skunkes]

i have soooo much more i cld say abt him, and have explored more thru other doodles, but quick summary of talon's whole deal, which is subject to change still as he's only almost 2 yrs old as an oc

[suncaptor]

yeah this cannot go on i need to take something like my chest is exploding i can't calm down it's 7am i feel insane insane insaneeeee

[milimeters-morales]

i’m giving miles my anxiety when i was 13 and inconsistent with meds again. it’s incurable and she will be suffering because of simply smelling like perfume

[possiblytracker]

coughs loudly. scheduling this post for slightly later today so i have time to get lunch and not chicken out before it goes up

firstly i gotta apologise for dropping off the face of the earth. in hindsight it was creeping up on me for a long time I just didn't think anything of it/had enough stuff going on to ignore it for a while, but ive been wrestling with pretty abysmal mental health that just kinda hit me like a truck back in august. i wont get too much into it but things just ground to a halt and in the span of a week or so it legitimately felt like i stopped being a Person- i just stagnated, felt like i lost the ability and will to do anything or enjoy things or create like i used to, all my energy went into keeping it together in front of my family, and it made me way too anxious and ashamed and guilty to want to show my face. like who would want to put up with my stupid bullshit, right (wrong! that idea just made me unbelievably worse and i regret it extremely, but my anxiety was going extremely unchecked at this time). i don't think i've ever been that depressed before and i didn't at all know how to handle it or begin to claw my way out

fortunately, a combination of getting exercise + touching grass regularly and new enrichment/hyperfixations to latch onto like an orphaned duckling are very recently kicking some life back into me so to speak. who wouldve thought. and now where i used to still feel stomach-turning dread and paranoia thinking about getting back on tumblr and discord a week or two ago, it finally feels like i can handle dipping my toes back in. i'm making this post first bc i know most of my friends will see it, and that feels less taxing than explaining myself a bunch of different times over and over and dragging it out, but ofc i will try and get back into conversation when and as i can (askbox and discord is still best to reach me if you wanted). i'm just really sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, for making you worry or otherwise

i'm not sure what to do from here (i'm considering maybe moving main blogs to a clean slate eventually? this one will still be here i couldnt bear to get rid of it, i've just had it since i was 16 there's Baggage attached) but i'll be trying to ease my way back into relative normalcy before doing anything big ofc. in the meantime i will be vaguely floating around here again. see you around and thank you for your time..

[sailor-aviator]

I think I might actually legitimately be at my limit. Like I think I've reached the end of my rope, actually