#im so tired after writing this

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[purpleshadow-star]

Imagine if Nico could learn to control when he turns into shadows.

Like, in The Blood of Olympus Nico would start fading after shadow traveling too much, and sometimes Reyna and Coach Hedge wouldn't be able to touch him, and one time he even accidentally walked through a tree. Imagine if he learned to control that intangibility.

Imagine if he could just turn parts of his body into shadows. Imagine if, in a fight, someone swings at him, and he knows he can't dodge in time, so he turns into shadows for a second so the weapon goes right through him, and while his enemy is confused he uses the distraction to land the final blow.

Imagine if he could just walk/reach through walls and doors and stuff.

I just think that, for someone with the title of ghost king (and as a child of the Underworld), he deserves more ghost-like powers.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 786: Acceleration at full throttle!!

Pag 1

2: Now

3: Do I go?

4: Soon

How's your condition, Manami?

Mhh, if I had to say

5: I'm in perfect condition

Pag 2

1: Hakogaku's Manami went ahead for the first day's mountain!!

Pag 3

1: Seriously!? What's with that speed!?

He took advantage of the right curve where the group was stretched out!!

He accelerated in an instant!!

2: He's really gonna climb!? The Sky Prince!?

Does gravity not work on him only!?

Pag 4

1: Soo

That guy is so fast!

Waa is he so light!?

2: reeee

3: He suddenly got away!! Dammit!! Chase him!! Go!!

No, there's no one who'll be able to chase after him!!

Pag 5

3: Except for the Mountain King!!

4: Hakogaku number 13 jumped ahead, teh!!

Pag 6

1: I'm going to accelerate at full throttle!!

2: Onoda!!

3: Onoda-san!!

4: Onoda-san!!

Pag 7

1: Onoda-san's cadence is going up!!

5: Onoda-kun!!

Pag 8

1: Go with all your might!! Will-power injection!!

Pag 9

1: Okay!! Thank you, Naruko-kun!!

Pag 10

1: I'm going!!

Pag 11

1: Aaaaaaagh

Pag 12

1: Mountain King went ahead!!

He's so fast, what's with that speed!!

With his cadence I can't see his legs!!

2: Everyone, really, thank you so much for sending me out

3: I got this at the supply point earlier, a cold bottle of water!!

4: Leave him gaping this time!!

I'll use the old one

Okay!! Thank you!!

Pag 13

1: He's so fast!!

2: Run with all your heart

4: Don't worry about what happens behind

Pag 14

1: Imaizumi-kun, Naruko-kun, Danchiku-kun, Kaburagi-kun, Rokudai-kun – everyone pushed my back...

3: It's the Mountain King!!

Just now Hakone Academy passed... is he chasing him!?

It's Sohoku's Onoda!!

His legs' rotation is incredible!

They're both so fast!!

4: Mountain King chasing Manami...!?

Pag 15

1: It's intense!!

2: Oi, those two just now!!

That's right, they're last year's finalists!!

And the finalists of the year before too!!

3: Seriously... they're already... going out now...!?

For the “mountain” of the first day of the Inter High, those two....!!

Pag 16

1: It's a destined battle!!

Pag 17

3: I got scared....

4: Suddenly Hakogaku got here... and it's Manami, too!!

I got scared, but then he stopped accelerating...!?

5: Wahahaha Manami Sangaku isn't worth fearing!!

Pag 18

1: I was on alert because he caught up with me at lightning speed but then he quickly lost pace!!

That means he worked too hard and reached his limit!!

2: Coming here on your own was a mistake, Manami Sangaku!! Wahahaha

I'm IitsukaYorimasa from the prestigious Fukuoka Josei!! Climber!!

3: I thought about it!! And my nickname will be “mountain shogun”!!

Pag 19

1: And this mountain will be my home, my “castle”

Manami, today I'll get your “neck”!!

2: Sorry but could you please be quiet?

3: I'm listening

To the sound of cheering, and the swaying of trees, and the chirping of the cicadas

5: And mixed with all of this, I'm listening

6: to the sound of wheels

Pag 20

1: Wahahaha, wheels!? The sound of wheels!?

I don't hear it, I don't hear such a thing!! That would mean that there's someone else who's catching up!? Someone like that...

2: No way, wahahaha

4: I hear it

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Heyyy, hope your doing well.

Is it ok if I request switch!april switch!mikey and lee!donnie.April is spending time with mIkey while painting a mural somewhere... and they get into a tickle fight in which donnie gets dragged in.. If that's cool with you :D

~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘!!! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚔𝚒𝚒𝚒𝚒𝚒𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎 😌🫶🏾…𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝙴𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 👏🏾💗💖💓💘˚*•✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟷𝟺𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 

𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 👩🏾‍🦱💚 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝! 𝚂𝚘, 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙶𝚂𝚂𝚂: @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles

@ziipzeepzop-eez @someone1348 @rice-cake-teen10

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @mistyandsnow @tmntstayheadforever

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚑 >:]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾‼️˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Pfft…Mikey you actually suck at this…” April said, stifling a giggle as she glided a paintbrush up and down her little brother’s shell. 

The smaller teen shrieked at the sudden contact, his giggles bouncing off his room’s walls, “R-Riri plehehease…!” The youngest giggled, squirming slightly as he dug his feet into the carpet. 

“Just say a word!” The elder said, “Literally any word that reminds you of this feeling!” 

“Ihihi daha— squeak dohon’t knohohow!!” The younger squealed out as he kicked his legs from underneath his elder sibling, “Ahaprihil plehease juhuhust stahahap!”

“I can’t 'stahahap' unless you tell me, bro! How does this paintbrush against your shell feeeeeel?” The girl emphasized as she swirled her paintbrush where Mikey’s shell met his plastron. 

“I cahahan’t— squeak pfftahahah!!!” The orange banded turtle cried as he arched his back, kicking his legs desperately from underneath his older sibling. 

“Just say a single word, little brother. Aren’t you the one who wanted to help me with my art project~?” The green cladded teenager asked smugly.

Michelangelo blushed, hugging a nearby pillow to his face as his muffled laughs echoed around the room, “I-I dihid buhuhut Ihi dihihindn’t know ihit would be soho tihiHICKLY—?! NAHAHEEEK!!! SqueakAHAPRIL NAHAT squeak THEHEHERE!!!” The light scarlet eyed mutant squawked as his sister started to gently scratch at his lower shell with her nails. 

The human raised an innocent brow, her fingernails dancing across the other, “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just tracing your shell to help you think!” 

“PLEHEASE PLEHEASE squeak REEREEHEE!!!” The paint loving turtle squealed, banging his fists in the floor, “OKAHAY OKAHAHAY!! F-FLUHUHUTTERY! IHIT FEEHEELS FLUTTERY!!” He laughed, letting out a sigh of relief as his sister got off of him, writing down the word he basically just screamed. 

“Fluttery…I like it!” The elder mused, going back and tracing the other’s shell with the brush. 

“M-Myhy gaHAHAD squeal Ihi hahate yohou…” The youngest murmured as he buried his face into the pillow more.

April held back an amused laugh, scritching her nails along the mutant’s upper shell, “Hate is a strong word, little buddy. But to refresh your memory, I’m doing a poetry art project so I need you to come up with a few…artsy word’s for me. And besides~: you’re in a mood…so you shouldn’t really be complaining all that much. I get my project done and you get tickled…it’s a win-win!”

Mikey huffed begrudgingly, blushing as his sibling basically just called him out…

The box turtle was a kind soul! A very kind soul in fact! 

So when his dear big sister texted that she needed help with her art project, Michelangelo was more than thrilled to lend a hand.

That was until he was told that April’s class was working on collages…and were given a single word to get inspired by and base their art piece off of how it made them and the people around them feel…

…And you want to know what his sister’s word was…?

Laughter.

“Your soho meeheean…” The youngest groaned loudly through his giggles. 

“I’m not being mean if you like iiiit~!” The elder giggled, causing the box turtle’s blush to deepen, “NO!NOHO TEHEHEEASING!” The younger one squawked, “PRIHILLIE WEEHEE HAD AHA DEEHEEAL!” 

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” She said as she scribbled her youngest brother’s hips, “Y'know…I think I can add a couple more words to the list...”

“Whahat ohOTHER wohords?” Mikey asked. 

“Cute, adorable, sweet, lovable—” April listed.

“SHUHUT UHUP SHUHAHA— squeal SHUHUT. IHIT.” The scarlet eyed teen said, kicking his legs more now from underneath the other.

“But you are~!”

“NAHAH— squeak GOHAHA AHA— squeak AWAHAY!!” 

“But I can’t~! I need more words for my collage!” 

“THEHEN THIHINK OHOHOF SOHOME YOHOURSELF YOHOU FOUR EYED MOHOTHER— squeak FUHUHUCKER!!!”

The elder snickered as she lightly traced the sides of her little brother’s ribs, “Woowww…cursing me out…calling me names…it’s almost like you want me to go here…”

The orange banded teen let out a tiny but mighty scream at the new sensation at the back of his ribs, trying to get off of the floor, but alas, was stopped as April sat on the back of his lower shell once again, “YOHOU— SQUEAL!! AHAHAPRIL WEEHEE SQUEAK CAHAN TAHAHALK SQUEAK ABOHOUT THIS SQUEAK PLEHEASE!!” 

“I’m hearing lots of words not having to do with my collage~!” The girl in glasses said in a sing-song voice as she pinched up and down his ribs. “NAHAH— squeak squeal GAHAHAD WHYHYHY?!” The youngest cackled. 

“Because you legit asked me to?” The elder grinned evilly as she started to slowly count every single one of her little brother’s ribs now, “Duh~!”

“E-EEEHEEP! PLAHAHEASE NAHAT THAT NAHAT THAHAT NAHAT THAHAHAT!!!” Michelangelo screamed, hugging his middles as tears of mirth appeared in his eyes. 

“Not what~?”

“OKAHAY! SQUEAL OKAHAHAY!! YOHOHOU SQUEAL CAHAN PUHUT SQUEAK MEHERRY, JOHOHOLLY, FUHUNNY, LIHIHIVELY AHAND SWEEHEET NOHOHOW PLAHAHEASE!!!” The box turtle absolutely squealed. 

“There we go~! See? It wasn’t that hard.” April smirked, patting the other’s shoulder as she got up and added the five words on her paper. “Ihi feeheel lihihike I juhust gohohot bahahack frohom aha war…” Michelangelo groaned as he wiped his eyes to clear the happy tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, you’re fine.” April said as she rolled his eyes fondly, writing down the words Mikey said on the clipboard. The youngest stretched him arms, getting up and peering over the older’s shoulder, “Buhut anywahay’s, hohow mahahany mohore words do yohou need?”

“Five.” The elder said casually.

“FIVE?!” Michelangelo repeated in complete and utter awe, “How many words do yohou freaking neeheed?!”

“Five.” The older repeated, “The number in total was originally supposed to be ten but Mrs. Anderson said if I add one more to the required word count I’d get extra credit.”

“…Why do you always have to pick extra credit?” The orange cladded mutant whined, flopping on his bed as he looked at the ceiling.

“Because why not?” The elder huffed, “Now come over here! I need five more words on how laughter makes you…feel.” She said dramatically, putting a hand over her forehead for a theatrical effect. 

“Yeah, yeah...“ The light scarlet eyed teen uninterestingly said, “But you come over here; I don’t feel like lying on my carpet anymore.”

“Pfft— okay, your majesty.” The glasses wielding human snickered, sitting next to her brother on his bed. And without warning, the smaller teenager wrapped her in a hug from behind with one hand while the other slipped under her shirt and scribbled all over her bare stomach.  

“AUUGH! Y-YOU’RE HAHAHANDS ARE F-FUHUCKING FREEZING!!!” April seethed before bursting out into loud and contagious cackles, “AHHAHA— squeak! WAHAIT! WHAHAT THEHEHE FAHACK!?” She squealed. 

“Aww~! Look at you giggling up a storm~!” The smaller teen smiled, “Your laugh is beyond adorbs, Riri.” 

“STAHAP IHIT! YOHOHOU PEICE AHAHOF— squeal! NOHOH!” The older cried, kicking her legs in an attempt to escape which only caused the youngest to tickle harder. 

The human girl threw her head back; completely lost in her own squeals and shrieks. “Soooooo~! About those words~!” The youngest teased. 

“NAHAHAHAA— YOHOU LIHITTLE BRAHAHAT!!” The green cladded girl shouted. 

“I don’t think 'brat' or 'little' goes with the word 'laughter', Prillie...” Mikey giggled.

Oho revenge was sweet…

…So so sweet.

“YOHOU— hic! STAHAHAP IHIHIT NOHOHOW!!!” The girl in green giggly threatened. 

“No can do, big sis!” The youngest said as innocently as he could, “I need you to tell me how laughing makes you feel~! What do you feel right now~?”

“NO YOHOU— hic GAHAHAH! STAHAP IT— squeak!” April howled, “FIHINE! FLUHUHUTTERY! IHI FEEHEEL FLUHUTTERY!!” 

“I already said that.” The orange themed turtle hummed, getting his hand out of the other’s shirt and squeezing her thigh mercilessly.  

“MIHIHI— hic FAHAHACK— hic! O-OKAHAHAY!! GIHIGGLY?!”

“Four more woooords~?”

“NOOOHOHOH! DUHUHUDE YOHOUHAH— squeal!”

“I can’t stop unless you give me four more words~! Come on, big sis~! Just four more words~!” Michelangelo taunted, using both of his hands to knead the other’s hips. “GYAHAH!!! M-MYHYHY GAHASH!! FIHIHINE! JOHOY?!” The girl offered as she kicked and thrashed.

The younger teen nodded, “Three more~!”

“REEHEELAHAHAXED?!” 

“Two more~!” 

April let out a loud squeal, getting out of the hug as she lightly hit the other on the upside of his head, “Ahand trihiumphant.” She huffed, writing down the four words she said. 

The light scarlet eyed mutant rolled his eyes, looking over her shoulder once more, “How do you feel 'triumphant' when you’re laughing??? That doesn’t even make any sense…”

“Yohou dohon’t mahahake ahany sense.” The girl with glasses retorted as she stuck her tongue out at her little brother; which the little brother in question gladly copied.

Then suddenly and abruptly, Donnie walked into the bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as he knocked on the wall, “Hello, Michael and Prillie. I’ve come to inform you two that Raph has obtained us some rice and peas and jerk chicken for dinner.”

April and Mikey turned their attention to the softshell as he leaned on the doorway, “…Where did Raphie get the food from?” The box turtle asked suspiciously. 

“Oh…well, he and Leo made it.” Donatello grimaced, shrinking slightly as he saw his younger brother’s face start to form in anger, “They cleaned up after themselves— I promise. I supervised.” The light golden eyed mutant assured.

The light scarlet eyed teen rolled his eyes, going over towards his door, “I’ll be the judge of that.” He huffed, going to march towards the door but was halted by April as she gave him the clipboard. “Oh Dee~? Before we go eat, do you mind answering a quick question for me?” The eldest asked innocently.

“Uhm…okay?” The purple banded teenager said as he fully walked into the room, closing the door, “What’s the question?” 

“How does laughing make you…feel?” April asked.

The softshell blinked once in confusion, “…What?”

“How does laughing make you…feel?” Mikey repeated.

“I…don’t understand the question.” Donnie chuckled in amusement, “How does it make me…feel…?” He repeated to himself as he scratched his head, “I…feel joy when I laugh, I suppose.” 

“Anything else?” The girl in glasses emphasized, sneakingly inching her way to her brother as he was deep in thought. “Erm…lively? I do feel quite alive and quite joyous when laughter occurs.” 

“Anything eeeelse?” The chocolate brown eyed teenager drawed out as she scribbled her nails alongside the taller’s sides. Donnie let out a short squeal, flinching back as he hugged his middles.

The one day he left his battleshell in his room…

“Ahahapril doohoo. nahahat.” The taller teen warned, backing away as his sister inched towards him. “Whaaaat~?” She said casually, “I’m just helping.” 

“Tickling meehee ihihis not hehelping meehee thihink ohof ahan answer!” The light golden eyed teen said as if it was obvious, riskily sprinting to the door as his younger brother effortlessly caught him; the two boys basically fighting to the death as Mikey effortlessly pinned the older turtle to the ground, tickling his underarms.

“HEHEH— hic STAHAHA! YOHOU L-LIHIHITTLE SHIHAT!! LEHET MEEHEE GOHOH!!!” The tech loving turtle shouted, squirming from underneath the other.

“Nu-uh! I suffered so now you have to suffer.” The box turtle smiled. 

“AHA— hic! WHAHAT— PFFTAH! DOHOES THAHAHAT EEHEEVEN hic MEAN?!” The taller turtle inquired through his chorus of cackles. 

“Thought of a word to describe how you’re feeling yet, Don?” The eldest asked as she sat next to her two brother’s, grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“IHIHI’M hic GOHOING hic TOOHOO KIHICK YOHOU GUHUHUYS' ASSES!!!”

“Language, young man!” The box turtle scolded, gently flipping Donnie on his plastron as he scribbled his fingers lightly against his shell. Donatello frantically kicked his legs, banging his fists on the ground as he screeched in laughter.

“GAHAHAD NAHAHAH— hic! PLAHAHEASE!!! WHYHY?!” He wheezed, tears of mirth blurring his vision as he shut his eyes tight. “I-IHIHI FEEHEEL REEHEELAXED!!!”

“Already have that one.” Michelangelo commented. 

“GIHIHI— hic! GIHIHIGGLY! I FEEHEEL GIHIHIGGLY!”

“Already said that one too~!“ 

Donatello wheezed once more, his heels digging into the carpet and his legs flinging around like crazy, “HAHAPPY! I FEEHEEHEEL HAPPY!!! NOW STOHAP STAHAHOP STOHOHOP!!” He cried, letting out a contented sigh as his little brother stopped the assault. 

“I hic cohohome here…toohoo deliver hic news…ahahand thihis is hohow I’m hic being repahaid….” Donnie grumbled through his giggles, huffing and puffing under his breath as Mikey hugged him. 

“And that makes eleven words!” The girl with glasses grinned, writing down the last word on her paper. “Thanks for your help, you too.” 

“Ahanythihing fohor you, Ihi guess.” The softshell said as he rolled his eyes, getting up as his younger brother was still clinged to him, “So…are we going to go eat or…?” The box turtle asked as he hugged his older brother’s arm.

“Yeah, yeah…” April giggled as she clinged to Donnie’s other arm as all three of them walked to the kitchen, linking arms. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[dxckgrxsonx]

I will take what ever you will give me of dick pick jay please

how about this?? how about feelings and emotions and both of them saying they love each other without actually saying they love each other??

**

Some nights are better than others.

It’s almost grief leaking into your chest when you find him. Sat down in the shower. Silent. Alone. He’s got his back pressed against frigid tile, knees tucked up close to his chest. He looks young. He looks small. There’s almost pain flaring awake in your gut, like being stabbed in a dream and waking up half linked into adrenaline, convinced you’re torn open and bleeding.

You look at Jason, still dressed in his gear, still armed, and wonder if he’s waiting for a fight. There’s some nights you look at him and watch him bring conflict home, watch him tap the grips of his guns to make sure they’re still there, watch him manoeuvre around your apartment like there’s a threat hidden somewhere.

Sometimes, it’s like the violence won’t leave and even worse, sometimes you watch Jason not know what to do with himself once the fight is over.

There’s water beating against his back and his hair sticks to his forehead but he doesn’t move. Not even when you smooth yourself into his peripheral. Not even when you slide open the frosted glass door and step inside.

The shower cubicle is wide enough for you to sit next to him, so you fold yourself up small, tuck your edges into place around him. Your knee knocks against his own and you press your arms together, shoulder to elbow to wrist. And still, he doesn’t move.

His name settles on your tongue but you swallow it back. Instead, you link your pinky fingers together and wait.

Jason says your name so softly, almost like a whisper, maybe a prayer, and presses his knee into yours. The pressure is barely there, feels like nothing at all, but the relief is sweet on your tongue, the awful banging on the inside of your chest finally stops.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You whisper, tugging his hand closer so you can smooth your thumb over his knuckles. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Dropping his head onto your shoulder Jason sighs, almost as if you’ve spread balm over an old, aching wound, almost like you’ve found exactly where he’s hurting and taken it away. His body leans into you, legs unfolding to lay straight, feet touching the opposite wall.

You follow his lead, stretch out so you can keep his hand in your lap. Turning his hand over you smooth your fingers over his palm, walk over the lines and play gently with his fingers. Measuring the size of your hand to his, you huff quietly in amusement and Jason, without saying a single word, slots his fingers between your own and holds your hand.

“You’ll stay?” He asks.

Bringing his hand to your mouth you kiss his knuckles, the barest brush of your lips, “Always. I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me. I won’t go unless you want me to.”

“Never.” Jason murmurs, and you know he’s watching your intertwined fingers. “I’ll never not want you. For the rest of my life, you are all I’ll ever want.”

**

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

can i interest anyone in some codywan kissing on this fine thursday evening?

“Please, darling.” Obi-Wan looked at him with a gaze that could have melted butter. Fortunately, Cody was made of stronger stuff that than. “I promise not to lose it again.”

“Really?” Cody raised an eyebrow, pulled himself up to his full height so he could look down at Obi-Wan, just a little. “You promise?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan leaned forward, let his eyes fall to Cody’s lips. Let them rest there until he knew Cody noticed, the bastard. “I promise.”

Cody didn’t move. With his free hand, the hand not holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber far above his head, he threaded his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. Felt him shudder against his hand. “You see,” He kept his voice low in a way he knew drove Obi-Wan a little mad, “I don’t quite believe you.”

Obi-Wan batted his eyelashes in a way that said, who, me? Then smiled, his voice kept carefully level, “My darling, you wound me.”

“You’ll get yourself wounded, more like.”

“I would never,” Obi-Wan leaned closer, close enough that Cody could feel his breath against his cheek, “Afterall, I have the Force to protect me.”

“You have me.” It was a promise spoken again and again, whispered into Obi-Wan’s neck in the darkness of his quarters, shouted silently each time they fought side by side. Spoken so often, it was as familiar as breathing, yet still they said it. I’m here. I’m here.

Obi-Wan’s answer was a quick kiss placed at the corner of his mouth. For a brief moment, Cody almost gasped, almost dropped the lightsaber there and then. Instead he pulled back, just a little.

Obi-Wan gasped into the empty space. Still close enough to feel his breath, Cody shivered.

“Promise me,” His voice was heavy, weighted with emotion he couldn’t quite give words to. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan’s voice was the mirror of his own, heavy with emotion in a way Cody so rarely heard, “Force, Cody, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. I will try. I promise you that.”

“Alright. Alright. I know.” He finally let his hand that clutched the lightsaber drop. Stood there for a moment, the ‘saber resting in his steady hand between them. He leaned towards Obi-Wan, almost felt the tiny gasp that escaped his lips as Cody’s hand drifted to his belt. He clipped the lightsaber to Obi-Wan belt, let his hand hover for just a moment. Obi-Wan stood still beneath his hands, it was only his breathing that betrayed him.

“Thank you, darling.” The words were whispered into Cody’s ear, softly, they settled in his head.

“Just don’t lose it again.”

Obi-Wan hummed, and Cody watched as his hand curled its way around his neck. He leaned slightly into the touch, even like this the calluses and scars that decorated the hand were known to him, just as intimately as his own.

The hand twisted into his curls, gently pulling his head back, just a little. Despite himself he gasped, the little noise an almost desperate thing as it flew from his lips.

Obi-Wan grinned, there was something dangerous about it, just at the edges. “My dear, I never mean to disappoint you.”

He meant to respond, but found Obi-Wan’s lips against his own. He breathed into the kiss, instead, his mind filled only with Obi-Wan. The Jedi’s other hand curled around his jaw, his thumb pressed carefully into the skin beneath his ears, into the place that Obi-Wan knew made him gasp, desperate beneath his hands.

After what felt like a lifetime, a star born and collapsed again, Obi-Wan pulled back. His nose just brushing Cody’s, he breathed his name. It was promise, and prayer. Spoken with so much reverence that, if he was not seeing his own feelings reflected back at him, he would never have believed such a thing was possible.  

He let the word hang, just for a moment, before he tugged gently at Obi-Wan’s hair. Felt him shudder against his hand, pulled apart in that instant. Felt honoured that he was allowed to see this, trusted enough that Obi-Wan let himself shatter like this.

He pressed Obi-Wan’s name against his neck, felt the way his hands, still resting against Cody, twitched at the contact. He pressed another kiss to Obi-Wan’s neck, then another to his jaw. Eventually, he reached Obi-Wan’s mouth. Hovered there for a moment, allowing his breath to flutter against Obi-Wan’s lips.

Something that sounded like his name caught up in a desperate plea fell from Obi-Wan, and at that Cody kissed him.

Heat curled through him at the way Obi-Wan melted into the contact, letting himself fall endlessly into Cody’s hands. Trusting Cody to catch him.

In answer, Cody held him. Did not allow any part of him to slip between his fingers as they curled their way through his hair. His free hand had, at some point, come to rest upon Obi-Wan’s back and he relished in the way Obi-Wan leant into the touch.

It was this trust, as much as the contact, that sent a heady sense of affectionthrough Cody. Love, if he was brave enough to let himself think it.

Obi-Wan gasped, briefly. Again and again, Cody’s name fell from his lips.

“Here, darling. I’m here.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the rest.

[divinelolita]

PFTTTT

im sorry but this shi funny asl(im still mad at you)

bro whole band(separately headcannons) with there bf who sleeps with his eyes open💀💀

like bro it'll be the middle of the night and tom would prolly be more freaked out thinkin readers dead or smth and wakes him up and reader is just like "huh.." ALL OF THEM ARE SO MF CONFUSED I CANT💀💀🤚🏾😭

BAND X READER: SLEEPING WITH EYES OPEN

got me giggling omg. ermmm also u shouldnt be mad at me 🤨🙏

BILL:

・He thinks he's seeing things.

・Glancing over at you and your eyes are open? He thinks he's tired and his eyes are playing tricks on him.

・Yet he keeps glancing at you and your eyes still aren't closed.

・Panic starts to settle in.

・Squeezes your arm lazily, not hard enough to bruise yet hard enough to definitely wake you up.

・Shaking you by a shoulder, muttering a soft "M/N" groggily.

・Relief washes over him when you hum back, turning your head slightly towards him as you blink a few times to see him better.

"Huh?..wha'cha need?"

"...nothing. Go back to bed."

・He's so fucking confused but he's too tired to ask about it, just snuggling closer to you.

・Can't help but giggle everytime the event re-occurs , it's just funny to him for some reason 💀

TOM:

・HE'S SCARED.

・Waking up in the middle of the night, turning over to you about to admire your face and your FUCKING EYES ARE OPEN?

・nearly pissed himself.

・At first he'd think you were just staring off into space but after a minute or so of not blinking he'd get concerned.

・Actually thinks you died in your sleep or some shit.

・Frantically shaking you awake, his eyes blown wide and his heart thumping.

"M/N! M/N!"

"...huhhhh..?"

・He's petrified...

・You being confused makes him even MORE confused.

・he had to sleep on the couch the first night it happened.

GEORG:

・Thinks your looking at something on the wall/ceiling.

・He'd ask what your looking at (nothing lol), getting confused when you don't respond

・He thinks your ignoring himmmmmm

・Gives you a little push on the shoulder, whispering your name under his breath

・When you haven't been blinking for a while he checks your pulse, his own heart beating so fast he could hardly breathe

・If your pulse is going at a normal pace he just kinda...ignores it

・Letting you lay down, hell he probably takes a picture to show you in the morning

・Idk I feel like in the middle of the night he'd try to close your eyelids of some stupid shi like that 😭😭

GUSTAV:

・..Okay.

・He'd be like the least freaked out.

・Nearly screamed but like...y'know

・He finds it quite funny, can't help but snicker anytime he realises your sleeping while looking at the ceiling

・but if your facing HIM with your eyes open in the middle of the night? shit he's 'bout to hit you.

・Nothing against you, bae! It just scared the actual shit outta him

・He honestly doesn't really wake up in th middle of the night, he's a pretty heavy sleeper so he hardly notices.

・Few times he does notice his heart stops...but then he remembers that's jus what you do so🤗🤗🤗🤗

・He might've woke you up the first time just to make sure you were okay but he just leaves you alone now

[exmotranny]

the green carpet scratches at your pink heels. bile rises in your throat.

they talk about womanhood- but it’s not quite right. there is the pink and compliments and talk of boys

i am a beloved daughter

but there is also something else. it digs at your flesh, it feasts on your skin. your mother motions at your chest, bigger than hers and you're not even done growing yet! how lucky.

of heavenly parents

you pray to a man every night, finish it in another’s name. on your knees. you were sent a shady link as a kid. the woman on her knees, tears streaming out of her eyes, i don't want this, she said

with a divine nature and eternal destiny

blood on the inside of your underwear. you were told this meant you were a woman now. you were ten years old. what the fuck did you know about being a woman? your mom said you weren’t allowed to touch between your legs, but it's normal to want to. you didn't know what that meant, either.

as a disciple of jesus christ,

you wanted to be desired. you daydreamed of being the trophy for boys around you, of claiming that role one day as a wife. you came from a long line of women married young. you don’t know their names, but you were taught about their husbands in church.

i strive to become like him.

pressing your breasts down as much as possible, trying to give the illusion of a flat chest. badly cropped jpgs of jesus photoshopped to have top surgery scars are the secret currency you pay to get past the hours of church. you hold them like diamonds.

i seek and act upon personal revelation

you thought god was talking to you. you almost threw away everything you owned. you thought you were a prophet. total fuckin’ ego death! holy shit! god speaks through me!

and minister to others in his holy name

and then the next morning. when your faith crashed, when moroni abandoned you, did it feel unreal to you too, joseph?

i will stand as a witness of god

oh god, no. please. i don’t know what’s real anymore.

at all times

leg hair peeking from under your pretty sunday dress. they all stare. you ignore them and open up to D&C 132.

and in all things

emma, did you love him to the end? i don’t think you wanted him. did you watch as he married a 14 year old? did you tell him you burned the commandment? did you cry when he died for the church that he loved more than he loved you?

and in all places.

blood on the floor of carthage jail. this martyr will be remembered forever. do they talk about you, emma? or are you just joseph’s wife?

as i strive to qualify for exaltation,

when i marry, my husband will be a god, and i shall cleave onto him. when i marry, i will go to his universe and bear more of his children.

i cherish the gift of repentance

heads bowed low as the sacrament is passed. my hands clutch onto the bottom of my skirt. pleasure outside celestial marriage is forbidden. i apologize for loving the wrong way.

and seek to improve each day

i tried to kill myself, last time i got home from girl’s camp. i got home and cried and found the pills and shoved them into my mouth until i cried more and more until i was gagging. i hunched over the toilet. my hands on the grimy floor.

with faith, i will

forced to sing in front of the congregation. my head spun from anxiety. my stomach turned with nausea.

strengthen my home and family,

loving wife beautiful kids loyal husband church once a week work weekdays weekend mom monthly round on the business end of his cock forever and the vomit threatens to make an appearance.

make and keep sacred covenants,

an old man is in a room alone with me. he asks me if i masturbate.

and receive the ordinances and blessings

i tell the man no. i receive a card so i can be ordained.

of the holy temple.

that's just how it goes, isn't it?

all around are paintings of god and jesus. we learned about heavenly mother. why don’t i see her in paintings? did god have plural marriages? did heavenly mother make us? why don’t we pray to her? did she watch god marry a 14 year old? did she cover her eyes? when she saw blood on her underwear, was she told she was a woman? did she touch between her legs? did she ever believe herself better than god? does she cry when she cant talk to us? why do i cry? was heavenly mother scared of singing in public and did she press her chest flat and did she cry when god forced himself into her mouth? did she burn his doctrine too?

i am given flowers on mother’s day. i will be one eventually, after all. and i vomit in the church bathroom quietly like the perfect woman i am supposed to be.

[feral-and-or-horny]

I need..my professors..to chill the fuck out. I don't even have time to be horny

[yeraskier]

five times everyone questions jaskier's sanity, and the time jaskier realizes he was (sort of) right all along. [inspired by yesterday's events... you know the one]

also on ao3

Geralt looks… different. Very different. Like his entire fucking face has changed different. 

He looked just like himself at supper last night, but now it’s morning, and suddenly, he looks nothing like himself. It doesn’t even make any sense. Jaskier briefly considers that maybe he had a bit too much ale the night before, but he’s drunk more than he did last night and this has never been the result.

Geralt definitely looks different. Very different. Like a whole new face different. He looks a bit taller, too, which is completely unfair.

Jaskier eyes him suspiciously, and he’s probably completely losing it, but even the man’s Adam’s apple looks different when he swallows. Gods.

He doesn’t realize he’s reached out until the tip of his index finger makes contact with Geralt’s cheek. The witcher freezes, spoon stopping midway to his mouth before he slowly turns his head.

Jaskier pokes his cheek again, and then his jaw, and then his nose.

“What happened to your face?” He asks, sliding in closer to inspect. He pokes one of Geralt’s cheekbones, twice. Three times, for good measure.

“Do that again,” Geralt growls in a way that tells the bard he most definitely should not do that again.

Jaskier drops his hand.

—

“Has anyone else noticed that something's wrong with Geralt's face?”

Ciri lifts her head from the book she’s been scribbling in as Yennefer eyes him skeptically through the mirror she’s facing.

“What are you on about now, Jaskier?”

“Geralt. His face. It’s different,” he says, stepping further into the room. “And so is his physique.”

Yennefer arches a perfectly done brow at him.

“Not that I’ve been paying, or have ever paid any attention to his physique or anything,” he amends quickly, “because I don’t…”

Ciri’s snicker covers up a muttered, “right,” which Jaskier pretends to not notice.

Yennefer sighs as she turns to face him, “Geralt is fine. He looks the same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and the week before. He looks the same as he’s looked for decades. It comes with being a witcher.”

“But—”

“Geralt is fine,” she says with a level of finality that lets Jaskier know he is not winning this argument, “and you’re an imbecile.”

—

Jaskier’s not going crazy, okay? No matter what anyone says (fuck you very much, Lambert!) he is not going crazy.

The man still walks like Geralt, and talks like Geralt, and acts like Geralt, and knows things that only Geralt would know (like the fact that Jaskier has also needed chamomile rubbed on his bum… more than once), so it must be Geralt, except for the fact that looks nothing like Geralt.

“Do you really not see a difference?”

Ciri groans from beside him, clearly irritated at her reading being disturbed. Oh well, she’ll have plenty of other chances to read during their little hiatus. “No, Jaskier, I do not see a difference.”

The bard sighs as he watches Geralt, or whoever the fuck that is, from across the library. It’s all he’s been able to do for the last three days, which, well… isn’t new since watching Geralt has become one of his favorite past times over the last decade or so, but that’s how Jaskier knows he isn’t going crazy. Something is different.

Jaskier has spent hours on hours taking in the man’s defined jaw, and his expressive brows, and his pouty lips. He’s spent so much time trying to depict the specific shade of yellow in Geralt’s eyes, and the curl pattern of his hair, and how long it takes his stubble to grow back after it’s been shaved. He’s spent far too long picking up on every little detail to be told that nothing about the man has changed, because so much has changed. 

“How could you not see the difference? Everything about him is different! I mean look at the shape of his face!” Jaskier exclaims, waving his hand wildly in Geralt’s general direction. “And look at his nose! Gods, look at that nose!”

Ciri blinks at him once. Then, again. She doesn’t blink for three beats and then, she blinks again.

“Look!”

She does look this time, and she even squints. Jaskier waits, watching her, mentally begging for that realization to dawn over her.

Her lips do a thing where they press together and push upward, almost like a frown. “I think you’re right,” she tells him.

Jaskier’s eyes widen, posture straightening in alert.

“His skin looks much more vibrant, I think that new soap Yen got him is working.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and Ciri turns to him with a cheeky grin.

“Very nice, Ciri,” he drawls, “very nice.”

Jaskier huffs as he slumps back in his seat, turning his attention back to Geralt.

She’s right, though, his skin does look more vibrant.

—

“Triss, you’ve got to believe me,” Jaskier whines.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Jaskier,” she says, “but I just saw Geralt, and he looked fine, same as he’s looked the last ten times I’ve seen him since I got here.” She continues her journey down the hall, and Jaskier is truly surprised by how fast the woman walks. 

“But he isn’t! He isn’t himself, Triss, I swear, and I’m the only one who realizes!”

Triss comes to such an abrupt stop that Jaskier almost crashes into her. When she turns around, her head rolls, along with her eyes. She looks as exasperated as Jaskier feels.

“Suppose Geralt’s face somehow did change, how would that have happened, Jaskier? Explain that to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly, but it must have been the work of a mage. Or maybe one of his potions!”

Triss levels him with a flat look. “A potion? Really? Right, because witchers are running around making potions that can help them shapeshift.”

And when it’s put like that, Jaskier realizes how insane he sounds. “That doesn’t rule out the possibility of a mage!”

“You guys have been in Kaer Morhen for weeks now. Just you, Ciri, Yen, a bunch of witchers, and now, me. And last I checked, Yennefer warded this place so well Melitele herself could strike this area right now and everyone here would remain untouched.” She’s talking with her hands, something she does when she’s at her wit's end, something she does when she’s refraining from turning the person she’s talking to into a toad. “That, alongside the protections that were already set up, means that the possibility that any mage could waltz in here uninvited, or even come close enough to this place, to cast some face-changing curse on Geralt is absolutely zero.” 

“Yes, but—”

“You need rest, Jaskier. You’re starting to sound diabolical.”

With that, she turns on her heels and leaves him in the hallway.

—

“So… you and Geralt have known each other for quite some time now, huh?”

Vesemir looks unimpressed.

It’s an expression he’s becoming quite familiar with.

Jaskier flashes his most charming smile, “have you by any chance noticed any changes in his appearance?”

Dead silence. Great.

“Anything at all?” He presses on hopefully.

The witcher’s expression goes from unimpressed to murderous.

Jaskier has never bolted from a room so fast in his entire life.

—

Jaskier knows this isn’t really the smartest plan he’s ever had, it’s probably in the top five of the dumbest, actually.

He doesn’t know what he has to gain from watching Geralt sleep, but it’s better than just sitting back and waiting for answers to come to him. And alright, he’ll be the first to admit that it’s kind of (really!) fucking creepy, but Jaskier has to get to the bottom of this. So, watching Geralt sleep has to hold some kind of answer.

Many years of sleeping alongside the witcher have taught him how to maneuver without waking the man up, he’s grateful for that now in a way that he’s never been before.

Despite what many may believe, Geralt’s quite the peaceful sleeper. He barely moves, he breathes softly, his face remains soft and pliant— he sleeps like… well, an angel. Even with this brand-new face, all of these little things still exist.

There’s always a certain level of alertness, though, something Jaskier realized early on, but that seems to be nearly nonexistent tonight. It must be Kaer Morhen. Geralt’s at peace here. It’s probably one of the few places, if not the only place, where he truly feels safe. The thought makes Jaskier’s heart melt.

For the second time this week, he finds himself reaching out almost involuntarily. The back of his fingers run along the side of Geralt’s face, and the witcher releases a hardly audible sigh. Jaskier smiles, allowing his fingers to wander a bit, lightly tracing the lines of Geralt’s face, both sharp and smooth.

Geralt’s nose twitches, and Jaskier taps a finger to it. Definitely number one on the list of the dumbest things he’s ever done.

The witcher startles awake, sitting up so fast he nearly headbutts Jaskier. He probably would’ve had the man not fallen off the bed, and flat onto his ass onto the cold, hard ground.

“Ow,” Jaskier groans.

“Jaskier?” And oh, fuck, that sleep-worn voice always did things to him, and right now is not the best time for any of those things to be happening.

Geralt’s eyes zero in on him, and Jaskier offers a weak smile and a wave.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jaskier?”

“Trying to figure out what happened to your face,” he responds, and it comes off as more of a question than an answer

Even in the dark, Jaskier can feel Geralt glaring at him. Then, the witcher lights up the candles beside his bed, and Jaskier can see Geralt glaring at him.

“This again?”

“Yes, this again.” Jaskier hisses defensively, dusting his buttocks off as he rises to his feet. “There is something incredibly wrong with your face, and no one else sees it, but I do.”

“Jaskier—”

“No! I’m being serious right now, Geralt. Your face has changed, alright? It’s completely changed, and I don’t know why I’m the only one who has realized but—”

“Wait—”

“I’m starting to feel kind of crazy over here, and I—”

“I think I know what’s going on. Yen—”

“...don’t understand how everyone else can just—”

“Jaskier, you’re not listening.” Geralt’s standing, now, and he’s all up in Jaskier’s space the same way Jaskier was in his mere minutes ago. And he’s shirtless, which is very, very distracting.

But not distracting enough, Jaskier is on a mission here, Godsdamnit. 

“No, you’re not listening. Your fucking face—”

“My face is fine. Yennefer—”

“Your face is not fine, Geralt. I mean, it’s not like you look like a gremlin or anything, but—”

“Yen, she—”

“You’re still beautiful—”

“Yennefer is fucking with you, Jaskier.”

“I don’t think any curse could ever make you less beautiful—” Wait.

“Wait.” That was Geralt’s voice, as if he’d read Jaskier’s mind.

“Yennefer’s fucking with me?!” Jaskier exclaims at the same time Geralt says, almost breathlessly, “you think I’m beautiful?”

“Huh?” The bard answers dumbly, “what? Yes, of course, I think you’re beautiful. Woo-hoo, this isn’t news to anyone. Now, what do you mean Yennefer’s fucking with me?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just stares. He stares for so long that Jaskier starts thinking that maybe Geralt’s the one fucking with him.

“Hello?” Jaskier snaps a few times. “Continent to Geralt?”

The witcher seems to blink out of it and huffs a laugh.

“Remember last week when you replaced the soap Yennefer uses for her hair with an ink of sorts?”

Yes, Jaskier does remember. Vividly. It’s one of the best pranks he’s pulled on the sorceress since they started their little game. “And it turned her hair red.”

Geralt hums in confirmation, “well, you know Yennefer. She said she’d do something about it. I didn’t know what, but… seems like it was this. She casted a beholder spell on you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a spell that makes whoever it’s put upon see whatever the caster wants them to see. In this case, it was… my face.”

Jaskier gasps. “That witch.” She’s a genius. Evil, but a fucking genius. “Do you know how long until it wears off?”

“How long did it take Yen to get her hair back to black?”

“Five, maybe six days.”

“That’s probably your answer.”

Jaskier groans. Knowing Yennefer, it’s probably double that. “Gods.”

Geralt hums, thoughtfully. And then, “so…”

Jaskier doesn’t know where this is headed, but he doesn’t like it.

“About you thinking I’m beautiful…”

He gulps. Right. “I said that, did I?”

The witcher takes a step forward, and it was a big step, and there wasn’t that much space in between them, to begin with, so that single step has them toe-to-toe. “You did.”

“Well, everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Jaskier grins, nudging him as he tries to play it off. 

Geralt tips his head to the side with a slight furrow in his brows, “not everyone.”

“Everyone who isn’t an idiot, I mean,” says the bard, “or a jealous prick, or a prejudiced waste of space. You’re beautiful, it’s hard to look at you and not see that. Most people see that, it’s not just me, ask anyone in this keep. I may not have had anyone on my side about your face looking different, but they all agree about your face being beautiful trust m—”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing that thing you do when you get nervous.” Geralt smirks when he says it, the prick.

“What thing?”

“The rambling thing.”

“I’m always rambling,” Jaskier tells him, “and I know this because you’re always telling me to shut up.”

“No, you’re always talking,” Geralt corrects, “and when you talk, it’s controlled. Whereas when you ramble, it’s hardly coherent because you’re going a mile a minute. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

Fuck.

Geralt leans in closer, lips stretching even further, “am I making you nervous, Jaskier?”

Fuck.

“I—”

Gods, they’re so close. They’re so close, and they’re only getting closer because Geralt is still leaning in like he’s going to—

“Stop.”

They’re not close anymore. Geralt is suddenly several feet away from him. He no longer looks smug, he looks confused, and… small.

“I know where that was headed,” Jaskier begins, licking at his lips and realizing how dry they’d gotten from Geralt trying (and succeeding!) to seduce him, “and trust me when I say I am on board, like all the way on board.”

Geralt cocks a brow, as if to say, then why aren’t we already naked?

“But, I want my first kiss with you to be with you.” At the witcher looking confused again, he continues, “I know it’s you, but I want you to look like yourself.”

The witcher sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been irritated by Yennefer more than I am at this moment.”

“I feel your irritation, believe me,” says Jaskier, “and I promise once this wears off I’m all yours, but in the meantime… we can still sleep together in a completely clothes-on kind of way.”

Geralt smiles.

And that’s how the two end up spending the rest of the night cuddling while plotting how Jaskier’s going to get Yennefer back.

—

The spell wears off a day later, and by the time Jaskier emerges from Geralt’s room the following day, he forgets what he was getting Yennefer back for in the first place.

He ends up baking her a chocolate cake as a thank you, with the words THANK YOU, THE SEX WAS GREAT on it.

The look of mortification when she sees it is priceless. Unintended, but priceless.

As it turns out, the best revenge is a bit of kindness.

[spinjitsuburst]

no i'll never stop being unwell about jay choosing the lighthouse as his place of isolation post-seabound

[youngpeachenthusiast]

this is not directed at anyone specifially and i'm going to say something that"s probably controversial but here i go anyway: you are not a bad person for still liking the harry potter franchise.

actually, i do not believe that you are a bad person, full stop. but that's a conversation for another day.

while it is actually horrible to support jkr and engage with her content in any way that gets her money (it is! no pretending it isn't), i think that no one should care about whether someone still enjoys the story. sure, jkr's fucked up worldviews are everywhere in it, and that certainly does ruin it to some degree (to me, at least), but you are still allowed to have your good memories and cherish the great times that you had thanks to the story.

i'm saying this as someone whose favorite pastime after jrk came out as... wildly problematic became breaking down every little problematic detail of the whole storyline. after the hp franchise basically made up most of my childhood.

is the story mediocre? the worldbuilding lacking? is it full of outright discriminatory narration and stances? yeah. should any adult with a high school degree have the literacy necessary to recognize this? yeah.

was it still incredibly important to lots of people (especially those who were often singled out and ostracized? looking at you and me, queer kids)? also yeah.

lots of literature and art of all kinds that people still engage with and love to this day is wildly problematic. made by problematic people. it is possible to enjoy a work of art critically.

what one can and should do, is not support the artist. but what harm does one do when enjoying something that is special to them? please leave people alone. i myself can't enjoy the story anymore at this point, but really. there's bigger problems in the real world. can we please use our energy in a better way? why is this discourse so rampant that i'm ranting about it on tumblr, where two people tops will read the post????

i feel like people should be allowed to like things sensibly. i... don't really have the energy to think about this stuff and believe that so many people are evil for enjoying something that meant the world to them in childhood. honest to god .

[soupbtch]

ummm. my fic is done.

[starstruckloves]

Imagine turning over in your bed, your eyes still heavy and mind foggy. You had just woken up from a nap after a long day. As you try to sit up you rub your groggy eyes before noticing an extra weight on you.

A new, heavy blanket laid draped across your body. At first, you pick up part of the blanket, staring at it with a raised brow until the dots finally connect. You’re f/o must have come in to check on you while you were asleep. You feel a warm feeling in your chest as you continue to look at the blanket for a few moments before getting up, a bit more ready to continue your day with someone waiting for you <3

[spaceless-vacuum]

Fandom‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Legend of Zelda

Pairing‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Yandere!Time x reader

Word count‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ 2456

Summery‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ another forced cuddling post based off of a prompt? It’s more likely than you think! This time Time breaks into your house for some cuddles while youre sleeping and it does not wind up going to plan.

Misc‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ first person pov, dub-con cuddling, fighting, being overpowered, being tied up, Time wins the fight, reader is forced to deal with it all as they cant get away

After everything I wouldn't have called Time a ticking time bomb out loud, but some part of me always knew it was only a matter of time. Between the way he took the time to always watch what I was doing, carefully examining my every move to the way the townsfolk whispered about how the day before he threatened someone who got too close to me. I knew it was only a matter of time before something fell loose but I figured I would have seen a warning sign. Never had I expected it to be something like this. He stared down at my face twisted in a crazed smile that stretched ear from ear as he held me to the ground. I wasn't too aware as to what was going on since I had just woken up, but he was the one to wake me. Picking me up and moving me around in my sleep to make himself comfortable on my bed was the final straw.

It wasn't like him to act like this I was sure of it. I watched him pull me closer while shushing me, dipping his head low to plant a kiss on my lips before resting his forehead on mine. Feeling more adrenaline start up I kicked and tried to get him off of me. The scuffle earlier had brought us to the floor where he had managed to hold me against his lap for the most of it. I bit his arm to see if that would net me any ground in the struggle. Time’s ears went flat and he hissed in pain. Not letting go of my grip on his arm I dug my teeth into his flesh harder. The rest of my body wasn't being held down yet so I kicked and dug my nails into him, raking them across his flesh in an attempt to make him let me go.

“Shhh hey- hey- hey- no need to freak out baby it's all ok you're fine. I’m not going to let you go.” His voice was quiet and soft, as if saying he wasn't going to let me go free was supposed to be comforting. The way he spoke sounded like a man trying to calm a wild animal, and with the way I was biting him I supposed it fit. Moving around he situated both of his legs around me to help contain my flailing body. He wrapped himself around me tight enough it hurt and I released him from my bite so I could gasp for air in his tightening grip.

My heart raced and my head kept sending me warning signals but I couldn't understand a single thing going on, again, why was he acting like this. None of what he was doing made sense. Before I hadn't been a witness to his actions and as such I couldn't say whether they seemed out of character for him or not. This was not reasonable or calculated actions, this was the thought process of a lunatic who broke into someone's house at an ungodly hour for a bargain. I knew no one was around to help. No guards patrolled this far away from town; and even if one did decide to walk by I wasn't sure how much help they could be.

“I never came in here with the intention to hurt you! I only wanted a bit of a hug.” he whined as he spoke and the last few words came out a bit choked. I wanted to tell him where he could shove his ‘hug’ but I knew this wasn't a fight I could win. Time was a trained and hardened warrior who had been in fights far worse than this against much stronger opponents than me. I didn't have any training. I wasn't even that sure what I was supposed to be doing right now. My brain yelled at me to do something but I didn't know what it was I was supposed to be doing. My heart rate started to slow and I felt myself growing more aware and weaker as the adrenaline wore off. If I gave up the fight now there would be now way for me to break free. 

“So you broke into my house-” I raised my voice hoping that for an instant someone may be passing by who could hear and go get help. I wasn't close to the road but I had to try- “Just so you could tell me that?!” Was this part of Time always there and I had just missed it. Most of the time he hung back, arms crossed watching me go about my day while he smiled and glared at anyone who got too close. I always figured he was antisocial- as none of the townsfolk had reported seeing him very often until he came around to see me everyday. I knew there had to be a plethora of red flags I missed but what could I have missed that would have given me enough time to avoid whatever this was?

Taking the time to think took away a few precious seconds that I could have used to fight back. After I let him go with my teeth, a terrible idea that sealed my fate, he regained his composure and started moving back to plan a. With no warning he lifted me up in the air, reversed his grip, and flipped me over onto my stomach. My body was pressed on the floor with a knee on my back and it felt like the fight was already over. He won. Grabbing both of my arms he forced them behind my back and held them there with one arm. In one fluid movement he went from my friend Time to Link- the hero who slayed the half beast Ganon and saved Hyrule. Mentally I beat myself up. Of course there was no way for me to win. As long as this stayed a fight there was no way he could lose. I could not escape.

“Are you ahoy now? Did you get all of that out of your system? Things will only get better from here on out if you listen to me- starting with now.” Straddling my hips while holding me onto the floor the strongest warrior in Hyrule leane over and whispered words into my ear. Confused and trying my best to not cower away while he towered over me. His condescending tone did nothing but wound my pride and make me want to erase myself from this situation. I had lost. The precious blanket of adrenaline had worn off and I missed its comforting presence. I cowered into the ground hoping to, for an instant, move away from Link as he leaned into me. He moved his knee off of my back but held my arms in place.

His heart rate rosed as he pressed himself firmly into my back. Being this close to me meant I now had the chance to dig my fingers into his flesh and tried to make it hurt. If it had any effect he didn't say anything or try to move away. Instead he buried his face deep into my hair and breathed in deeply. Laying a kiss on the back of my head as he moved his free arm down to a pocket on his pant leg to retrieve something. My breath caught in my throat as I could feel woven rope being wound around my wrists.

The rope he was using was the same one he showed me weeks prior; it was meant to be used to scale cliffs because of how strong it was. He had shown it to me weeks prior when I found him carrying it around, and now it was being used to keep me immobilized as this villain threw his power around for his own amusement. With my hands tied behind my back he deemed me no longer an immediate threat. Standing up he walked over to my face and kneeled in front of it. I refused to meet his eyes but I could feel the weight of his on mine. I just didn't have the strength in me to see what my friend had become. His boots were more interesting anyways.

“I know you're not exactly happy with me right now but that's alright! The worst of it is all behind us, and now we can get back to where we were. With no hard feelings.” He said the last part through clenched teeth so I guess my bites did hurt more than he showed. Time picked me up and set me down on the bed. I was facing the wall which spared me the humiliation of having to make eye contact. My back was to him as he laid down next to me. Even though I couldn't see anything I could feel him pulling me close to his chest. He was right. We were now laying in the same position as we were before I woke up. 

Getting comfortable was a bit difficult for Time; he wound up settling down once his legs were entangled with me. Spooning me was probably more for comfort than it was to hold me in one place. It didn't make me feel any safer knowing that I was going to have an even harder time getting away now. Not that I had any chance once he laid his eyes on me. Stuck between a figurative wall and a literal one there was no way to go. If I wanted out I would have to use my head. Playing into his delusions and giving him what he wanted was the only way to get out of this. 

“It was impossible to say I enjoyed what was going on; rather I would admit it could have been worse. I knew enough to know that no matter what happened I would be safe even if a little lovesick. All of this was a far cry to what I would have wanted from a relationship yet the way he hooked himself around me was so reminiscent of lovers holding one another. After a lot of quiet days and lonely nights I was glad he came into my life; this just isn't how I planned for it all to go. He had his thumb hooked around one of my sore spots.

Thoughts like these could never be put into words. If I ever told this lunatic that I even thought anything related to how nice this would have been under different circumstances he would never come down from his power trip. Time was a lot of things but content to give up he was not. Even admitting I wasn't able to fight back would just make him that much more snug. Not that I even was trying to fight back at this point. It hurt to let go but I finally gave up fully. My arms went slack and I took my nails out of him, I had forgotten that they were still digging into him. No wonder he sounded so upset when speaking earlier.

“Thank you sunshine.” Something sweet like honey dripped from his voice and I knew he had the biggest grin on his face. That much was clear from his smug demeanor. One of his hands slid its way up and down my waist before wrapping itself around me again. A shiver ran down my spine from the contact. Was he trying to press my buttons? Was he trying to see how far he could go before I fought him again, or did he really enjoy this?

There is no fight left in my body regardless of the reason why. Pieces fall into place as I stare at the wall and think. I wasn't a social butterfly but I wasn't a stranger either. The people in town loved to chatter and gossip and I found myself partaking in idle chatter when making my trips for supplies. Stories are always told about what's going on. Noth small town gossip and wider spread news about Hyrule as a whole made its way to my ears. Even if no one talked about the hero anymore the memory of what Hyrule was like still rang clearly in our minds. Link, the hero himself, had attacked me. My spirit was crushed. I was doomed to fail the moment he became set to attack me.

Maybe attack wasn't the right word. Forced to cuddle with? What did one even say or do in this situation? It was criminal, sure, but being feverishly in love wasn't a crime I knew how to talk about. Assuming getting away was possible no one would be around to help. Getting away meant I would be chased down, and even after I did succeed in my escape attempt, I would still have to go to the guards for help. I had a sneaking fear that just walking up to them to clear up this little ‘misunderstanding’ wouldn't actually help. I was too weak to fight back and too stupid to figure out how to ask for help.

Time knew this too. He had to know what the end game was. Pulling me closer I heard him yawn as he settled into my side. Getting ready to stay there permanently as a shield by wrapping himself around my body. This way he was acting as a protector and personal heater. It was nice if you ignored all the red flags littering the bed I slept on. Without every other factor in play I would have butterflies in my stomach. This made  thought pop into my head. Playing into his hunger was always a  plan. If I used this to gain the upperhand I could figure my way out of this. Nothing too hasty or dramatic or else he might catch on, but it is my one true hope. No one could keep their guard up forever.

So I set myself on a path. Who knew where this road would lead me but regardless it would keep me in his arms until the time was right. Just keep swallowing your fear and allow yourself to enjoy this for long enough that you could escape. It sounded like a good plan to me. At least I had a plan now. I grabbed his shirt with my hands and pressed myself into his body. I chose not to speak because I was worried that the fear in my voice would somehow give me away. I had to find as much comfort in this moment as I could. Even if just for a second I needed to feel like I was the one in control.