#if you ask me anything about them ill probably ramble on for an hour

[alannah-corvaine]

Recreated my Dragon Age OCs in FFXIV:

★ Champion of Kirkwall - Kara Hawke (mage) ★ Herald of Andraste / Inquisitor - Avalyn Trevelyan (mage) ★ Warden Commander - Elliara Cousland (rogue)

#puts them out of game order bc i enjoy chaos #and yes as usual i roll with an all human gang #hawke's the princess of starkhaven and ellie's the queen of ferelden #but those titles are awkwardly long so here they are in the tags instead #anyway they came out pretty accurate so im happy #if you ask me anything about them ill probably ramble on for an hour #misc

[todayisafridaynight]

SO!

Pretty good show honestly. I think it may perhaps come off a little underwhelming compared to last time because they released the full trailers early, so it was chiefly just talking, but I was still pleased.

The only thing I really wanted out of it was one (1) of my predictions coming true and one (1) surprise, and well, between the Watase Family and Nishitani...... THREE!!!!!, that's exactly what I got. Kiryu looking up at the sky like he's struggling to remember who he (allegedly) proposed to is hilarious though same energy as Jo not remembering Ikumi's name ghdshgkdhf the exchange kind of reminded me of Ichi talking to Arakawa as well... the "don't say it in the past tense" one you know the one...

Also next summit in September so that'll be a lovely birthday present :) For Me :)

Also x2 I love seeing which of my asks you decide to reblog. Whether it's because of the actual ask or because of my commentary it always feels like a win (<- normal to want and possible to achieve)

even if Considerably underwhelming, what information's been given IS causin a lotta buzz right now so !!! pretty successful summit in some regards ( ❁´◡`❁;;)

i just wish we got to see LAD8 gameplay, that's probably the only thing i really wanted but i guess there is still the fall summit (and for your birthday's sake i hope it's a real banger one)!

#snap chats #BEEN TRYING TO REPLY TO THIS ONE FOR LIKE HALF AN HOUR NOW IM SO SORRY VLEKVKJ #i was still on the call with my friend so i couldnt think straight and i wanted to give this my full attention when responding #anyway. i dont think i have to say anything about the conversation between ichi and kiryu #mostly cause ive already been doin that with the other asks huh ☠️ #DEFINITELY probably The Main Attraction to everyone tonight... so mysterious... def leavin me confused LMAO #but SO true love how ichi freely assumes arakawa was bangin back in the day but with kiryu he's like Oh God Prob Not #and i mean. is he entirely wrong ☠️ #which is what makes kiryu's response all the more funnier 'been around the block' at max you got three girls #one of them arguably being your sister and the other was a mole and the other one yall separated on agreed terms #WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SIR. he caught on proposing cause he wasnt ever with anyone long enough TO propose ☠️☠️ #AH AND i actually like most- if not all- the asks you answer if that's anything :) #my main's shadowbanned so it probably doesnt show up but i always do enjoy reading your commentary or responses to people #i feel awkward rbing asks since For Some Reason in my head that's. Illegal #but sometimes there ARE topics i really wanna leave a comment or ramble bout for one reason or another #absolutely flattered it's considered a win tho cause thats how i feel whenever i see you like or rb any of my posts fjaLKJLKJA #cause yk... in a general sense im very bland or just outright foolish SO it's always cool when you enjoy my posts ♪(´▽｀) #esp when theres so much love and thought in yours- its very cool is what i can say in the Utter Most Simplest of terms #terms i have to use cause my hands starting to hurt from all the typing owie ow ow ow（；´x｀） #ill leave with saying HOPEFULLY for the next summit i can stream it... my mic worked well with my call with my friend SO #it's def ready for. whatever i got in store ok my hand REALLY hurts now i gotta cap it （；´д｀）

[cuubism]

HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

--

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

--

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."

#hob said 'dream identifies as a man and you better respect it. as for me? i identify as a PROBLEM' #i think he should get to be super annoying as a treat #dreamling #my writing #ask #meadowziplines #hob's like ask me not about my dreams of being a knight in shining armor ok. don't even ask #cw homophobia

[yuesya]

Twin AU is watering my crops and clearing my skin ngl. Could we maybe see the moment of realization for Satoru (and maybe Shiki) about her situation as a cursed spirit? Because there’s probably a period of time when they both were effective toddlers that Shiki wasn’t yet hosted inside Satoru yet right? Or what is the development of personhood like what you effectively don’t have your own body? And how did they discover that Shiki was Satoru’s murdered twin?

Satoru had always known that he wasn't alone.

... There's no grand moment of dawning comprehension leading up to this realization, or anything of the sort. He just... knew. It's kind of hard to explain. Sort of like how a person knows how to breathe without ever actually learning how to breathe? Except this is something that's entirely beyond simple bodily instinct. It's really hard to describe using words.

Satoru had always known that Shiki was there with him, long before he ever knew who Shiki even was.

Every day when he wakes up in the mornings in his too-large room, he'll touch his hand to the ground at his side Good morning. His shadow promptly reaches back to him, cheerfully answering him in greeting.

When Satoru is on the verge of dozing off during one of his elder's droning lectures, his shadow insistently nudges him beneath his legs, keeping him just awake enough to prevent him from toppling over and making a fool out of himself. Or, even worse, earning himself an hour-long reprimand from an displeased elder over the lack of decorum.

Sometimes, when Satoru is alone, he'll purposely make silly shapes with his body. And laugh, when his shadow doesn't copy them properly. Then he'll stomp his feet in frustration, when his shadow smugly gets back at him by contorting itself into shapes that are impossible for a human body to mimic in turn, the cheater!

... It takes an embarrassingly long time before Satoru realizes that your shadow isn't actually supposed to play games with you.

It's not a realization that occurs all at once. It's something that creeps up on them as Satoru dives deeper into his lessons as a sorcerer, when they learn more about jujutsu together.

"Are you a cursed spirit?" Satoru finally asks one evening. His shadow wiggles in a 'dunno, probably?' sort of gesture. "Y'know, you're pretty harmless, for a cursed spirit."

His shadow crosses its harms huffily; Satoru grins.

"Aw, don't be like that, you know what I meant." Cursed spirits are amalgamations of evil and hatred, and must be exorcised for the sake of peace and order. Or so their teachers kept saying. "How did you even get here, anyways? And why me?"

Another wiggle.

But it's a valid question -with all the layers of seals and protections slapped over the Gojo Compound, it's impossible for any cursed spirits to slip through the cracks unnoticed. And yet the cursed spirit living in his shadow has clearly done just that. His Six Eyes informs him that the cursed spirit's energies blends perfectly with his own, which adds another layer of oddity to the mystery.

Everyone's cursed energy signature is different; families are similar, but not even siblings share the exact same signature. Was this a cursed spirit born of Satoru's own overwhelming cursed energy, somehow?

... Logic says that it's plausible, but his intuition tells him otherwise.

Satoru doesn't put together the pieces until his younger cousins are born. A pair of twins, a dark-haired boy and a dark-haired girl, sleeping together on the same cot. The way that their cursed energies intermingle next to each other is exactly the same as Satoru and-

...

... Midori-oba looks scared, instead of happy. Why?

"Cursed twins," his aunt whispers, trembling. "An ill omen, oh no... My husband is furious with me. Hina-neechan gave birth to you, while I- I-"

Satoru tunes out his aunt's incoherent ramblings, and instead focuses on cursed twins.

An ill omen, cursed twins. For twins begin as one singular entity in their mother's womb, and despite coming into this world as two individual bodies, they are still One. Each is only a mere Half of their Self, an empty shadow and pale imitation of what they could've been. Neither twin will ever reach their full potential, unless preventative measures are taken.

Satoru frowns. He doesn't like the sound of these 'preventative measures,' because if the implications are true, and knowing what the elders are like...

Six Eyes. Limitless. The Honored One.

What if the honored one was born with a cursed twin? ... What would the Gojo Clan do?

But did Satoru really have a twin? There's no trace of it -his father had told him about his late mother before while reminiscing, but he's never mentioned a twin sibling. Discretely poking around among the servants also reveals several glaring vacancies (sudden deaths) for those who'd been present during Satoru's own birth, which is not a great vote of confidence.

"... Are you really my twin?" His blood feels cold, a chill that runs down to his bones. Did he have another sibling? Did the clan kill his twin?

His shadow wobbles sluggishly. Satoru bites his lip, concerned.

Despite their innate compatibility with each other, the only way a spirit can truly dwell within a person's shadow was if the person in question was a Ten Shadows user. The bindings holding them together are fraying, growing weaker by the day -Satoru doesn't know how to keep his sibling with him!

And if it breaks- The Gojo Clan-

I won't let that happen.

Satoru's eyes narrow, determined. "I won't let you die again. I refuse to let you die because of me!"

How does one keep a cursed spirit with them?

By providing them with a proper vessel.

How does one hide a curse in a family of sorcerers?

By hiding them somewhere sorcerers will never notice or think to look.

... Satoru knows what to do.

The solution is simple: He takes his twin into his own body.

...

It's...

It's like suddenly drinking a large mouthful of ice-cold water, and Satoru can feel them spreading inside his body. He gets exactly one second to remember that, despite everything, they are a cursed spirit and Satoru's body isn't exactly one suited to be a vessel in the first place, maybe this was a bad idea-

But there's no accompanying pain. Nothing of the sort. Satoru gets the sensation of a soft sigh from his twin, as they carefully curl themselves through Satoru's flesh and blood and...

... goes to sleep.

... Wait, goes to sleep?? Just like that? Doesn't he at least get a 'thank you' or something?!

Unbelievable.

...

That night, Satoru has a dream. There's a little girl his age who appears in front of him. White-haired and blue-eyed just like him, and the moment she looks up and catches sight of him, she smiles brightly.

"Toru-nii!"

Satoru catches his little sister when she throws herself at him in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he says. I'm sorry that it took me so long to figure things out. I'm sorry that you're dead, because of me. "I'm so sorry."

The girl tilts her head in confusion. "Why?"

Satoru chokes, "Do you really have to ask?!"

"Silly," his lookalike laughs, reaching up and patting his cheek in comfort. "Toru-nii has nothing to be sorry for."

Actually, no, but Satoru isn't about to let their first conversation together devolve into an argument. "What's your name? ... Wait, do you have one?"

"Shiki." They blink at each other in mutual surprise, and the girl -Shiki- scrunches her face in confusion. "My name is... Shiki?"

... She actually has a name. The clan even named her -then denied any records of her existing and killed her afterwards?? She's not even on the family grave! Were they trying to make his sister into a vengeful ghost??

Satoru breathes in deeply -even though this is a dream and he isn't actually breathing in deeply like this with his physical body right now, but, details- and firmly puts his hands on his sister's shoulders.

"Shiki," he says. "Do you know who killed you?"

His sister shakes her head. Well, it was a long shot -if Satoru had the timeline pinned down, then the clan would've ordered her death within the first few months after they'd been born. Children don't really start retaining conscious memories of their childhood until they're at least a few years old, so it makes sense that she wouldn't remember. In fact, it's probably for the best that she doesn't remember her no-doubt traumatic death.

"It'll be alright," he says. "It'll be alright. Toru-nii will protect you."

But first, he needs to know who in particular to protect her from. It takes Satoru awhile, over the course of a few years, but he's able to put together the minuscule pieces bit by bit. If Satoru hadn't possessed the Six Eyes and if it weren't for Shiki's own discerning eyesight, the investigation would've been a lot harder.

But the conclusion that they find at the end... it's...

...

Father? Really? Shiki had been killed by their own father?

Satoru can't believe it. Yes, Gojo Muneyoshi is another one of the elders' worthless puppets and only all-too-interested in polishing Satoru into the clan's sharpest weapon. But the man is a coward. Did he really have the guts to murder his own child?

... Only one way to find out.

The perfect opportunity comes one evening when both of them are awake, and going over Satoru's boring history texts. Muneyoshi gets up in the middle of the night, presumably to relieve himself or to fetch a glass of water, or something along those lines. Satoru deliberately turns on all the lights in his room.

As expected, Muneyoshi makes his way over.

“I guess it’s a good thing that at least one of us is interested in this rubbish, so we can at least get lessons over with quickly." Satoru sighs dramatically, and inside his head, his sister's giggles echo incessantly. "Counting on you for the next test, Shiki!”

Outside their room, Muneyoshi freezes. The man's cursed energy trembles with heavy, unspoken guilt. But there's no hiding anything from the Six Eyes, and Satoru has his answer.

So it really was you.

His fingers tighten on the edge of his history scrolls.

... It's not fair.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. Why does Shiki have to die? Just because some elders think it means that it will curtail Satoru's power? There's no proof! And Satoru is strong. Even if his sister was a non-sorcerer -which she wasn't- it didn't matter; Satoru would be strong enough for the both of them, if that was what it took. But they wouldn't even give her a chance, and they just-!

Toru-nii?

... Don't worry, I'm fine, Shiki.

That night, Satoru resolves to himself that he'd rather see the world burn, before he ever let any of them touch his little sister again.

#QA #Writing #zenith of stars au #twins au #thank you for readinggg #glad you're enjoying the au anon! #... even despite all the angst lol #hi yes i'm an author who likes writing happy things why do you ask-

[minkkumaz]

I'M JUST YOUR PROBLEM

after blowing you off, you never thought that things between you and kyungmin would be the same. and it didn't, he was your enemy. when finally getting the chance to confront him about all the shit he's done, why does it make you want want to try making up with him?

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

PAIRING cho kyungmin x fem!reader WC 2.6k TAGS enemies to lovers trope. forced proximity trope. school au. angst/fluff. cussing. kissing. making up. bsf minho. like one kys joke. OMI NOTE marceline songs hit like ten times different so writing this literally had me pumped. i've never done forced proximity before but it's extremely fitting.

cho kyungmin was quite literally the spawn of satan, your sworn enemy til the day you’d die. the face that you fell for ended up being the face that also left you stranded like an idiot. when you couldn’t cry anymore and your eyes felt puffy and numb, you turned to hate.

classes the following week became even more difficult to believe, as you felt small in comparison to his lingering presence. there was a possibility that maybe he forgot about the first date he planned, things happen and that was something you were okay with.

but you weren’t expecting him to act like nothing happened, act like he didn’t spend countless nights laughing over the phone like he was yours. you felt like a mere ghost, parading through his life like a fucking play toy. because from your perspective, you were just his problem.

“i’m going to bury you in the ground, kyungmin.” you sobbed, anger seething through your teeth.

the expression on his face was blank, though you almost swore he let down his guard for a second seeing you hold back hot tears. but you didn’t want pity, you wanted closure. a reason why the idea of your existence dropped from his earth.

no understanding, no communication, not a single dust particle of love behind his dark eyes. that day marked a countdown of hating him and everything that involved him. an ill circumstance that landed him in the most broken spots of your heart.

he understood your feelings in a way that he felt the need to reflect them. so what was once a one - sided hatred became a mutually agreed upon alliance against one another. if anything, this made you more upset. what did you do to end up on his black - list?

day eighty - five of loathing cho kyungmin, and school became insufferable around him. the recent weather forecast had been wearisome, leaving you wanting nothing more than to kick back at home and sleep for the remainder of your life.

the court yard was always busiest during lunch hours, yet the rustle and bustle of school life kept you awake. students scattered about in their cliques, chatting about recent homework assignments or bothersome teachers. you poked at your food with your chopsticks since you didn’t have much of an appetite.

“are you okay, y/n? you’re not eating any of your food and i swear i heard your stomach grumbling during the quiz.” minho asked, stealing a piece of kimchi off your plate and dropping it in his mouth.

“not really, i don’t know. i’m just a little frustrated with everything right now.” you groan in response, setting down your utensil to bury your face in your hands.

“let me guess, does this have something to do with him?” he raises one of his eyebrows as you nod in annoyance.

“dude, i overheard haemin complaining that his only friend,” you air quoted, “was being transferred into my p.e. period. and we both know exactly who he was talking about.”

“that’s rough, have you talked to jaeyun about it? since he’s one of the sports captains, he could probably tell you for sure if that’s what you’re worried about.” he suggests.

“haemin and kyungmin are practically inseparable. even when i liked kyungmin, he was honestly kind of hesitant talking to me without him around. so i know for a fact i’m going to see his stupid face tomorrow.” you ramble, letting out a defeated exhale.

“listen, you’ll be perfectly fine. don’t let him work you up like that, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction, okay?” he advised you, patting your shoulder for comfort.

“minho, he shouldn’t even need satisfaction in the first place! kyungmin left me at a park. in the rain.” you emphasize the last bit, “i’m the only one that deserves to hate him.”

“i know, and it sucks. but i’ve heard this story like a million times, y/n. we need to get you some kind of therapy sessions if you’re going to keep at it like this.”

“literally choke.”

“kidding! i’m kidding. don’t do that to me please and thank you.” he laughed lightly, “but seriously, you’ll be okay. you always are. plus i’m just a phone call away if you need me to curse him over the phone or something, i don’t know.”

“you do too much for me minho. don’t worry, i know you just want to help me, thank you. i’ll try to figure it out i guess.” you exaggerate a sigh, making minho lean over to give you a friendly hug.

“now, eat your food before i feed the scraps to the birds on our way to next period.” he threatens, pointing a chopstick at your forehead.

after letting out all of your problems like word vomit, you were finally able to swallow down some of your meal. minho, your respective best friend had heard almost all of your hell stories about wanting to rip off kyungmin’s head. it was almost like he experienced the whole thing with you; or maybe the idea of him drenched down in a casual dress was a funny thing to imagine.

lunch passed by quickly, as did the rest of the school day. you took notes, turned in assignments, complained minho’s ear off once more, and suddenly the final bell rang meaning you could finally return home. in between all of this, you somehow forgot about the boy in your aching heart.

your steps pattered against the pavement when a feeling of dread washed over you. why did it feel like your world was going to shatter at school tomorrow? fallen leaves crushed underneath your shoes, resembling how scattered your mind felt.

day eighty - six of loathing kyungmin and every bone in your body felt like it was going to give out and abandon you as a pile of fleshy mush. you and your classmates gathered in the field wearing your p.e. uniforms, waiting for your coach to come out with the proper equipment.

kyungmin was only a couple people away from you and it already gave you an incomprehensible headache. just feeling his presence near you sent shivers down your spine, and you knew he could care less about whether you were there or not.

was it immature to still be hung up on what happened between the two of you even after almost three months?

you couldn’t stomach your stress right now, attempting to take deep breaths to soothe yourself. the cold air helped slightly; you became thankful for the dreary weather and couple raindrops that fell from the sky.

“alright everyone, it seems to be sprinkling a bit, but we’ll pass around the football for now. let’s just hope the rain doesn’t get too intense.” your coach explains, “pair up with the person next to you and come grab a ball.”

“i can go get the ball.” you offer  the girl next to you before walking over to the net full of footballs.

reaching your hand into the bag, you press a finger into each one, making sure you grab one that isn’t too flat nor too full of air. you’re searching for a couple seconds, before another hand bumps into yours.

“oh, i’m sorry–” looking up to apologize, you find yourself face to face with kyungmin. you take back your hand quickly.

“don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault your hand was in the way.” he smiles almost mockingly.

“whatever.” you mumble, pulling away to let him grab what he needs first although there were two bags.

while you wait, more droplets of water pattered against your skin, becoming slightly more frequent. you look over to your coach talking to another teacher, darting his gaze up from the sky and to his co - worker. he blows his whistle suddenly, as everyone looks over in his direction.

“seems like the rain is just going to get worse from here.” he announces before pointing at you and kyungmin, “both of you go put the equipment away, the rest of us will head back into the gym and run some laps around the courts for the rest of the period.

there was a chorus of disappointed murmurs from your classmates, before they all dropped the footballs they were able to grab. this left you and kyungmin alone, making your anxiety sky - rocket. against your will, you grab one of the bags and start towards the shed.

the sound of shoes against squishy grass tell you that kyungmin is following closely behind. you speed up with half of your intentions to get away from him and the other half to escape from the drowning rain.

once you get under the awning of the equipment shed, you slide open the already half - open door to let yourself in. there’s an assortment of different sports balls and rackets, all somewhat organized. kyungmin closes the door behind the both of you unknowingly while you find a spot to put away the footballs.

dropping down the bag in silence, you leave him to do the same and head out. when you twisted the door knob, it felt almost jammed. turning it harder and harder, it was deemed useless, making you panic.

“hello? hello!” you fidget with the door, practically throwing yourself against it in hopes it will magically open.

“did we get locked inside?” the boy behind you questions, making you turn around in disbelief.

“no actually, i’m just communicating with god on the other side. yes it’s locked!” you argued, “why did you close it behind you?”

“i didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to be closed!” he defended himself.

“oh my gosh i think i’m going to fucking faint if i have to be here with you for who knows how long.” you start pacing around the shed.

“i’m right here, you know.”

“do you want me to treat you like a princess or something? is that what you want me to do?” you tell him, “we’re not exactly on good terms you know.”

“you don’t have to freak out about it, someone will come find us eventually.” he shrugs.

“please tell me this is a nightmare.” you mutter under your breath.

“it’s pretty real, i don’t know.” he says, sitting down on the floor.

“oh my god i’m not asking you, kyungmin.”

“this isn’t fun for me either, you know. you don’t have to pretend like you’re the only one in distress here.” he mumbles.

“am i that much of an inconvenience to you? last time i checked there’s no reason for you to be mad at me.” you scoff, taking your own seat on the floor.

“i never said you were an inconvenience to me, i just don’t really want to be trapped in a sweaty equipment shed with the smell of leather like.. everywhere.” he explains casually, picking up a tennis ball.

you curl your knees into your body, leaning your head back against the wall, “yeah, right.”

“do i really stress you out that much?” he asks you out of nowhere.

“yes.” you respond blatantly.

“why?”

“i shouldn’t have to justify what i do. i have nothing to prove, kyungmin. you just do.” you claimed, “and i haven’t even got a proper explanation or apology yet.”

tension became thick in the air, palpable enough to be cut with even the dullest knife. being in the same room with someone you swore was your most hated person made your face heat up. yet you still wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to feel less cold.

the sound of a tennis ball being thrown against the wall and bouncing back filled your ears, though you weren’t in a circumstance to complain. anything was better than sitting in silence for who knows how long. 

minutes went by with no sign of a teacher coming to break the two of you free. it wouldn’t be long before the bell rang for the next period, leaving you feeling hopeless. the rain only seemed to get heavier outside.

being forced in proximity with kyungmin made you less angry in a way. every second that ticked by messed with your head, inching to get come kind of answer out of him. though in a way, it made you miss him more. he’d never leave class without you by his side, getting you juices from the vending machine, holding your hand tightly when you were nervous for a test.

“you’re kind of unbelievable, you know.” you spoke.

“what is that supposed to mean?” he glanced over to you curiously.

“that night. you said you’d take me on a walk through the park after we stopped to get food. but you never showed up to the restaurant, so i assumed you’d be waiting for me there.” you told him, feeling tinges of sadness rather than hate, “i waited on a bench for an hour before it started pouring. you never showed up.”

“you waited in the rain..?” he stammered slightly.

“i shouldn’t have to be the one that makes up with you.” you whisper, “but why do i want to?”

“y/n..” your name falls from his lips like honey.

he scoots himself closer to you until your shoulders are barely touching, his sudden appearance making you flinch. you were still tense next to him as he started to speak.

“i’m so sorry for being so mean to you. for ignoring you, pretending like nothing happened between us when everything happened.” he apologized, “you don’t have anything to apologize for. my mind was so crowded that night. i wasn’t sure if i was ready to love someone like you.”

“then why didn’t you tell me anything, kyungmin? you hurt me.” you began to tear up.

“i didn't know how.. can you tell i’ve never done this before? confronting my feelings while trying to convince myself that you wouldn't break things off with me if i wasn't ready. but listening to my head didn't get us anywhere either.” he confessed, “i was really intimidated when you came up to me the day after, and i wasn’t sure what to do. so i did nothing. it’s a terrible excuse, really.

“you fucked up. i absolutely hated you for standing me up like that..”

“you had every right to hate me. so i don’t know why i thought it was a good idea to hate you back. now that i’m looking back, it was immature. i missed so much time with you because i didn’t have a taste of what it was like for someone like you to love me back.”

“kyungmin, i don’t know what to say i–”

“let me fix this, please?” he moves your head by your chin, turning you to face him directly.

“you can try..” you murmured, watching his stare fixate from your eyes to your lips.

closing the gap, he enveloped you in a kiss that almost felt criminal considering every feeling you’ve had for him in the past three months has been hate. but he was trying. you’d never forget the pain he caused you, but part of you could forgive him.

it was soft, and he held you oh so gently against his lips. his hand trailed around your waist, pulling you closer into him. could this be the beginning of something different between you and him? as he pulled away, he couldn’t help but show a sad smile on his face.

“y/n, can i take you out on a proper date this time..?”

“i’ll see if minho lets me first after all the shit i talked to him about you.” you laugh, looking at his pretty pink tinted face.

“okay, that makes sense, i kind of deserved it. if it makes you feel any better, i’ll pick you up so you don’t have to worry!” he suggests.

“what if i stand you up by not being at my house, hm?”

“then i’ll wait on your porch in the rain for you until you show up.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

#⋆｡˚ my works #cho kyungmin x reader #kyungmin x reader #kyungmin angst #kyungmin fluff #8turn kyungmin #kyungmin 8turn #8turn x reader #8turn fluff #8turn angst #8turn imagines #8turn fanfic #8turn scenarios #8turn drabbles #8turn #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kyungmin imagines #cho kyungmin

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.”

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

  "What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

  *

  It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

#tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #fanf1ction #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr

[hjea]

okay, some 1899 theories because fuck it! i’ve got at minimum a whole year before i’m proved wrong. mostly about maura, because i’m a sucker for an alice reference, no matter how cliché.

SPOILERS

firstly, i probably need to watch the show a second time and much more slowly, for this to make much sense. a 24-hour-binge is not the most conducive meta vehicle. 

and putting aside whether or not the space ship is another simulation and just taking it at face value, i think we have to take some meaning from neither elliott nor daniel being in the room when maura wakes up. 

so it’s pretty heavily implied that elliott is either dead or nearly dead, and perhaps maura initially built the simulation as a sort of suspended animation for him rather than letting her son go. 

now i don’t think maura’s father is a reliable narrator, but i was at least inclined to believe him when he told elliott that he (elliott) wasn’t his father’s priority. i think we saw that throughout the season that daniel was always focused on getting through to maura, and that he was manoeuvring elliott around the space as a means to do that. and by the last episode he’s even using elliott’s safe space as the way to wake maura up, while leaving elliott behind with henry. which is not to say i don’t think daniel cares for elliott, but just that maura, and trying to make her remember their relationship, is his whole motivation. 

so! what if elliott’s death or illness or whatever it is, and daniel wanting to let him go while maura refused to, actually split them apart. and now some unknown time later—maybe while travelling through space? idk—daniel is obsessed with getting her back? but maura has moved on, maybe falling for eyk after bonding over the shared loss of their children? and daniel keeps trying to use the simulation of their son to get through to maura and remind her of a time BEFORE it all fell apart, but she just keeps finding eyk again and again. 

and also if she’s alice, then eyk is the red king. she literally asks him if it’s hr dream or his that they’re stuck in (which is a meta question for a whole other day). 

anyway, that’s all i got so far. mostly this is a long rambly to say I DON’T TRUST DANIEL. i don’t think he’s evil or anything, i just think there’s s whole hell of a lot he’s leaving out of his story and about their relationship, and his singular and obsessive focus on maura makes me uneasy. 

but also like, i am way to old to get into ship wars or whatever. and if you like daniel and think i’m wrong, that’s cool! luckily the internet is big enough for us all. 

#1899 #1899 spoilers #maura franklin #daniel solace #eyk larsen #this is a little critical of daniel and his motivation #so if he’s your new blorbo and you’re not into that feel free to skip #meanwhile i’m just going to try and get die gedanken sind frei out of my head #that song is a bitch of an earworm

[cybermeep]

i wrote a long tangent about my day & the draft didn’t even save…. like an hour of rambling. ill just recite what i can. im really bummed about that but theres nothing i can do now, so heres what i got as a redo:

plastic dinosaur teared the skin… now, you may be asking, HOW? to which i say this: anything is a hazard with the right amount of force

theres a small hole on my thumb now where sensitive skin lays & now i have to hold things weirdly in order to not go owchie wawa or what have you

kept looking for wiffle, my sea slug companion named by one of my best friends, but the small inanimate object was accidentally left at home. friend was amused at my frantic searching for a friend to hold, to which they don’t quite understand the state of worry i was in. felt bad about holding up the line by what is presumably two seconds.

stayed by my friends side & UGH im so mad at myself for doing so little & being so cowardly. i meant to walk around & really see all the art but all i did was be sensitive & emotional. i meant to compliment several different artists too… ask about prices… although pushed to do this, i was too afraid.. i can’t dwell on the past (as in past mistakes, as im typing about the past right now which would be counterintuitive of what im saying), so i won’t; its just simply infuriating on a interpersonal level when i say i will do something the next time it comes around & i don’t follow through

had to step outside because of feeling a prolonged, nauseating sense of not being allowed in the place i was in. i was scheduled, yes, but… i couldn’t get over the fact i simply didn’t feel as if i was supposed to be where i was. i felt like i was intruding simply going to something i liked, and even after my teachers five separate insistences i was fine it was still quite the challenge.. i cried slightly, but this is due to my sensitivity & workings of my own mind. i soon regained my composure

i did much better when i was allowed the solace of a quieter room with fewer people, albeit less artworks on walls…. ah, i should probably explain that

finished with artist statements & sketches, i am given the opportunity to help sort things in the gallery. by sort, i mean take down hangers.

most are fine, but i struggle with the last 5 near 3D pieces. a girl moves her octopus piece, but there’s still quite the array to maneuver around. theres only one way to move the hangers, to the right, as the left side has pieces underneath where the hangers fall & all that would happen is that the artworks would get hit time & time again by the zip-ties (?) of sorts.

to make my job even more difficult, i strive myself on not having any of the (very long, may i add) hangers hit the floor, lest they hit the portrait right underneath them.

i believe i get hit in the face every single time.

its funny, really. they don’t hurt either, by the way— just a surprise. it also feels impolite to have the hangers hit any of the art.. i can’t explain it besides common curtesy & reverence for objects, as i see everything as a bit human.. nah, not human, living. everything is an organism to me. also because its a portrait & thats a bit too real to have a portrait be hit in the face… impolite. & unneeded. & also common curtesy.

either way, all the pins & hangers get taken down. i see artworks up close that i hadn’t before, at least not to that extent, and find myself greatly impressed with the details. legs are jelly in the sense i have to be extremely careful with how i move & they shake profusely. its weird how the physical body works… so odd to me. not my point; nothing gets touched or moved, nothing gets ruined, everything is fine & i get to see artworks with only one or two other people in the room. i get to marvel at all the different sculptures & paintings without the stress of being too invasive to others.

oh yeah, i said a persons art they had up was nice, but they didn’t even have art up. i was simply trying to distract myself to not seem weird & offputting which i only accentuated by talking with them & saying that as i packed my things.

i will have to remember that embarrassing event, and now you’ve had to read about it.

thanks, i think. heres some unreleased drafts for your trouble

& these photos from last night

#cyber meeps

[firstdivisiongirl]

helloo !! id like to ask for a matchup if that’s alright? (youre on break rn though so take your time dw!) I’m not too sure how to req a matchup so sorry if it’s too much ghdkvhdk

to start off with my hobbies and interests, there’s a LOT of them and they’re very contrasting- I’ve probably spent the most cash on drawing (investment on a drawing iPad aaaouurg), but I also spend a lot of my time writing and singing! On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I also enjoy blacksmithing, welding, and boxing a lot!! Im also a huuuuge history buff and I really like psychology as well!!

I really like spicy foods and fruit flavored things and hearing people ramble about things they're passionate about, and I like puzzles n stuff that makes me think :]] dislikes consist of chocolate, angry yelling, crowded spaces, and boring people !!

I'm a very 0-100 person where I'm either very low energy and distant, or high energy. Im pretty impulsive as well, at least when it comes to my own safety whether it be for a dumb reason or important. I very rarely talk about my interests to people who I'm not 100% comfortable with, but when I am it's VERY easy to urge me into infodumping about fuck all I can talk about my interests for actual hours and I get really emotional if I'm told to be quiet fjdjfusjf- id like to think I'm pretty ambitious and witty as well, I'm quick to snap back at people. In terms of outside of my social circle however, I'm very much so an introvert and have a very hard time meeting new people :']

SORRY THIS IS SO MUCH I DONT KNOW HOW MUCH OR HOW LITTLE I SHOULDVE PUT IF YOU WANT ME TO SEND A SHORTER ONE THRN LMK I TOTALLY WILL!!! AGAIN TAKE YOUR TIME WITH THIS ILL BE HAPPY WITH ANYTHING YOU MAKE :DDD (and feel free to call me :] anon!!)

I'll be doing a matchup for you too but since I just followed you I don't know you very well yet, BUT ITLL HAPPEN I SWEAR

~ :]

Hi :]. It’s so nice to hear from you! Of course you can have a matchup! I always have time to do this! I’m back from break and it sucked, but this was great to come back and do! This one was kind of hard. I was torn between like 6, but after some thinking, lots of outlines and lists. I came up with it!!

Your most like a combination of Sabo and Chopper!!!

Sabo:

You both are very impulsive and will do anything

Sabo is a 0-100 kind of guy just like you!

Both of you are ambitious and witty as well as emotional

Both love writing. You guys would write an amazing book together. I’d love to see it

Lastly, you both are emotional and hate boring and terrible people.

I could definitely imagine you joining the RA

Chopper:

Both could talk anyone’s ear off about everything you love. Chopper would definitely talk about medical stuff all day if he could

Chopper is a little introverted around strangers like you. But I do feel like you would be better at hiding than him 😊

Chopper is a little intimidated by crowds like you

Chopper like sweets and fruits are sweet so….

He also is afraid of Nami who yells. You hate yelling. Enough said.

But when you two find friends, you’ll come out of your shells and flourish!

I hope you like it! You said you would do a match up for me so just DM me and I’ll give you any info you need! Thank you :] for the request! 💙🤍

#one piece #trafalgar d vivi #character matchup #one piece matchup #tony tony chopper #chopper #op sabo #sabo the revolutionary #one piece sabo

[quodekash]

gosh darnnit im tired 

in other words: time for my weekly ramblings about a bl where im mildly interested in the main couple but the side couple means more to me than anything and no i will not stop talking about them 

slight warning, there will be one mention of sa and one mention of murder/suicide (both of which are my personal speculation about particular situations, and there’s no detail apart from the word being mentioned). i also discuss/ramble to myself about mental health problems, and alcohol abuse. so if any of those things are triggering for you in any way, please be cautious about reading this, take necessary precautions, and if it’s particularly distressing, i urge you to call a local hotline for these kinds of emergencies. i care about all of you and your health and safety, whether i know you or not, and if you ever need to talk about anything at all, lemme know, my ask box and my dms are always open. 

anyway, on with the show! 

if you haven’t figured it out yet, this is... 

MY THOUGHTS ON EPISODE 4 OF ABAAB 

(if youre new here, it will literally be all of my thoughts on everything while im watching it bc i feel like im annoying my friends with my ramblings so instead ill annoy all of this circle of tumblr. and it will probably not be coherent. youre welcome.) 

i’m obsessed with his little ‘cher is so cute’ smile 

THATS HOW I FEEL ABOUT LITERALLY THIS EXACT POST 

dONT YOU DARE DO A PATPRAN 

that’s real insightful, cher. id never thought of that one before. the statement really gets me thinking. 

are you- are you saying what i think you’re saying? or am i more dirty minded than i thought 

his hair is extra curly today and its veyr pretty 

the curls are giving charlie spring vibes from the side 

i would like to touch his hair please 

the fact that covid exists in this universe is weirdly funny to me 

yup that sounds about right. no one rly cares about covid anymore when the entire world is ending 

YAY HE’S FINALLY OPENING UP TO HIM 

that freaking sucks tho 

and what’s worse is it’s very likely tian was r*ped 

WHY DO ALL THE HAPPY FEEL-GOOD SHOWS HAVE TO HAVE SAD DEATH BACKSTORIES BEHIND 50% OF THE FREAKING CHARACTERS 

GUN (msp)’S DAD IS DEAD AND HIS MUM SPENDS HALF THE SHOW LOW-KEY DYING (and i swear if they do something to gim in our skyy 2 im gonna fly to thailand and have some words with people) 

AYAN’S DAD LEFT, HIS UNCLE DIED 

THUA’S DAD DIED 

HALF THE CHARACTERS IN THE ECLIPSE HAVE DIAGNOSED DEPRESSION AND THE REST OF THEM ARE UNDIAGNOSED BUT ITS DEFINITELY THERE 

HERE, JACK HAS DEPRESSION (and i rly hope they go into that more in depth later in the show bc he intrigues me. if they dont go into it more then im writing a way too in depth analysis post of jack) 

AND NOW FREAKING CHER’S FRIEND/CRUSH FROM CHILDHOOD IS FREAKING DEAD AND HER BODY WAS FLOATING IN A POND WHICH DOESNT RLY LEAD TO ANY IMMEDIATE THOUGHTS OF A NATURAL DEATH WHICH MEANS IT WAS PROBABLY MURDER AND/OR SUICIDE WHICH MAKES IT EVEN FREAKING WORSE 

i knew it was too good to last. the over-confident, cocky, funny, sassy/sarcastic people are generally the most messed up, they just hide it via humour and feigned confidence (i am most certainly not one of these people at all) 

cher stop drinking, you’re gonna hurt yourself. also the alcohol might feel like it’s lifting the burden of thinking and stops you from worrying about everything thats happening, but itll come rushing back to you when you’re sober and worse because youll have a hangover, and it’s only a temporary fix, drinking only works for a couple of hours. you need a more permanent fix, cos if you keep turning to alcohol, itll turn into addiction and substance abuse and dependency, none of which are good, all of which are much harder to get out of than they are to get into. so yeah, just chill with the drinking a little bit. i get that you need to let it all out and you need to not feel for a bit, and that’s totally okay, but you need to make sure you’re not over-indulging yourself. otherwise youll be very ill in the long-term, both physically and mentally 

PFFFT THIS WAS THE PERFECT SHOT TO END IT ON 

final thoughts: 

theyve both said things that make absolutely no sense in context unless theyre confessions of feelings, and yet theyre definitely gonna continue to do the “what if he doesnt like me back” thing even tho its SO CLEAR to LITERALLY EVERYONE they have feelings for each other 

theyve gotten so close to kissing this episode and yet they havent which is sad, but also at least they have kissed at one point before getting to the point where they COULD have kissed a grand total of siXTY-SEVEN TIMES- (shut up im not talking about tinngun what are you talking about. .....but also if you wanted to see that post where i count out all of the times tinngun didn’t kiss...) 

very sad with the complete and utter lack of threezo in this episode. actually, it’s not even a lack of threezo. neither of them even appeared in the episode. neither was even mentioned. they (i.e. the characters, the creators of the show) are all acting like threezo AREN’T the most important characters in this entire show 

i love threezo 

where is threezo 

or is it zothree

either way i dont mind bc i love them 

where was i 

oh right 

this episode was pretty good, very emotional, i definitely didnt cry what are you talking about (who am i kidding, eveyrone knows i cried three times, you dont even need me to tell you) 

im excited for episode 5 

that is all, thank you and goodnight 

#quodekash rambles about abaab #im sorry my thoughts are a mess #idk why anyone reads these #i just make them to yeet my thoughts out of my brain cos otherwise they clog up #and if they clog up then i cant make funky posts where i overanalyse one line one character said one time #anyway #a boss and a babe #a boss and a babe the series #a boss and a babe series #abaab #abaab ep 4 #guncher #chergun #forcebook #bookforce #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #jack's almighty curly hair #drake sattabut's almighty eyebrows

[freakurodani]

Would you like to share your thoughts on the bokuakakuroken dynamic?

OKAY so uhh it took me longer to get to this than anticipated. unfortunately i got this ask RIGHT before i started my shift, and its been ough, more than 12 hours since i ended my shift, which means my thoughts had so much time to change and morph

i will try to gather my thoughts into coherency fjakjbas (no promises tho,,), these arent all necessarily romantic, i think they CAN be! but i think if they are a polycule, theyre a friendgroup first?? idk, i think they are a mix of romantic, queerplatonic, friendship soup yknow??

but i really enjoy the subtle rivalry between akaashi and kenma on the court. It's not the overt goading and gloating that bokuto and kuro have with each other, but its there. And I adore it. Captains and setters mirroring each other... balance... in my brain. I think there is lots of team work OFF the court between kenma and akaashi too, especially when it comes to making fun of bokuto and kuroo. they have an understanding

i think bokuto and kenma are an interesting pair. in volleyball, bokuto is WAY TOO MUCH for kenma. he's loud and boisterous and greedy. he's like shouyou, kenma can't get away with anything. off the court, bokuto is STILL A LOT, but he also shows such *genuine* interest in kenma's interests, he's attentive and engaged. he also gets *way less* scandalized by nudity and gore in Kenma's more intense games. Kenma isnt great at explaining things, but bokutos go gettem attitude makes him a pretty fun player two

kuroo and akaashi... i thought about them a lot. to me, they are STEM and HUMANITIES solidarity. I'm going to tangent to curate the vibe~~.

The separation of stem and humanities is a fairly recent development in education/academia. in the european renaissance, art and science were so deeply interconnected. to be an artist you had to understand the natural world. it helped you greatly as a scientist if you could depict the world you saw. Leonardo da Vinci probably comes to mind, incredible artist and inventor. He stared at water for hours watching it ripple. He believed that if you were not outside drawing every second you could, you were hardly an artist at all (he was VERY hardcore, and VERY uhh.. most ppl didnt like him much. Same with michelangelo. Raphael was the renaissance's golden boy, it's why the pope was in close contact with him while he did the school of athens in his library while michelangelo was still waiting for a letter back from the pope about the sistine chapel (pope didnt wanna talk to him) none of this is relevant but i LOVE talking about this stuff. Bernini is my favorite, though he is Baroque/late renaissance rather than High Renaissance (after the mannerist movement!! very important distinction. (did you know there were TWO bernini's? Gianlorenzo's father, pietro would have been more famous if his son wasn't a prodigy. but he wasn't resentful, he ate up his son's skill, was very proud "i will be known as the father an mentor of the great gianlorenzo!" cute stuff) what number of parenthesis am i at? i think this is the last one)

i digress. I think of akaashi, a literature nerd, and kuroo, a science nerd. and I think of them appreciating that about each other. I like to think that if one of them has intense, burning thoughts about something that moves them, a passage written so beautifully, a chemical reaction so moving, they share with each other. both of them i think, share a certain appreciation for the beauty in the world, and can really appreciate the beauty that the other's perspective comes from. they bleed into each other, akaashi starts thinking more of the physical world, and kuroo, already a metaphorical savant (we are blood, anyone?) appreciates akaashi's musing (absolutely LAUGHED at him the first time Akaashi waxed poetic about bokuto though. They have solidarity but they still lowkey antagonize each other aksfjbaksjfbaskjfbakj)

i think ill cut my thoughts off here. ive really rambled and i think most of it wasn't STRICTLY about bokuakakuroken, but when i was thinking about them yesterday, this.. kinda was the deal. my thoughts can be really difficult to capture and tie down, theyre amorphous clouds that twist and change in hurricane winds so sometimes they just come out as "WAAHA CRYING SOBBINGS OUGH" because thats the only way i can get them out before they slip away

im supposed to be writing things down more, it helps me a lot. but, if you were interested in maybe a sneak peak of what its like to try to think of a single topic in my brain,,, here u go! please enjoy the content you asked for, and i hope the content you DIDNT ask for was at least a little bit interesting <3

#conspiracy lvl: ask #i will not put this in the tags #since its a fucking mess asbfjkajfbaksjfa #art musings #i just...really wanted to talk about it #long post

[dhaaruni]

hmm i have mixed feelings on the deBoer article. I really like theses 3+4 and 7+8, they felt most relevant to my own experience as an autistic person who feels pretty disillusioned from the (mostly online) "autistic community".

However I really disagree with labeling chronic fatigue syndrome as a "boutique diagnosis" that people just make up for attention - I am very skeptical of people who are dismissive of the existence of chronic illnesses that doctors dont know much about e.g. CFS, fibromyalgia etc, those people's pain and symptoms have to come from somewhere

sorry for sending such a long ask lol you don't need to reply if i'm too rambly. it's a really bold article and I like it a lot but i dont want to actually reblog it bc i don't want hate lmao

Haha I love that I just post this stuff and don't get hate for it, it's probably because people are too busy sending me hate for being square-shaped or wide-bodied or whatever.

Like you, I think DeBoer's argument falls apart with chronic illnesses that people don't know much about, especially since like @amoonshapedpool noted, those illnesses also disproportionately impact women. Just because we don't know a lot about something like fibromyalgia doesn't mean it doesn't exist or isn't legitimate. Also, if you're extremely fatigued, you're probably fatigued for a reason, and if it's not fixable with lifestyle and diet changes, that's something that needs to be medically addressed.

But all that being said, I do agree with DeBoer's argument particularly about invisible disabilities. My mental health is a problem for me because it makes my life extremely difficult to live at times, not because other people judge or stigmatize me. The average person doesn't look at me and go "that's a disabled person" and that's maybe not a privilege, but it's a state of being. I mean like, guys I dated for months have literally forgotten I take medication for mental health issues when I've taken it right in front of them.

But that doesn't mean I don't struggle at all; the fact I spend hours on the phone monthly to get my meds is testament to the fact I very much do. The thing is, I can't get out of bed without my medications and I wouldn't function at all without them, but with my meds, I can be an analyst at a consulting firm, live alone without anybody else taking care of my day-to-day needs, and have friendships and romantic relationships without any unique difficulties. And of course, I can SoulCycle and Peloton and do a lot of yoga haha. My struggles are fundamentally very different than someone who's wheelchair bound for life with MS or whatever, and we need to be able to discuss those differences.

But yeah, that article was interesting to me. I don't always agree with DeBoer but he's one of the few openly mentally ill writers who isn't like a "good" mentally ill person, if that makes sense. He doesn't pretend that his mental illness is anything short of a nuisance, albeit a severe one, and I tend to abide by that line of thought as well.

#answered #anonymous #~crazy girl blogging

[sinnershavesoulstoo]

I'm ill and have limited my time on fb mobile via an app I don't have the patience for right now to doomscroll while I'm feeling bad. So instead I'm going to just ramble here for a bit about things.

*and when I say ramble for a lil bit, I mean get all my thoughts and feelings out of my body for now son I'm not holding them*

Yesterday (friday) I had the blow up with the guy from work

It's made me think

I feel literally so guilty about how I acted and how I treated him that I made myself physically sick yesterday. Which has in turn disrupted my internal well-being and is *part* of why I'm ill right now. The other bit is my dinner (pizza with a lactose issue and no lactaid pills 👀 but it was damn good)

Any who

Right

I felt (still feel) so guilty about it, that in my head, all I've been thinking is how I'd do anything to make him not upset with me. And how because of this one thing, I feel like I've ruined any chance of more than a friendship happening, and I've even been doubting our friendship in general. He sent me a message, and we talked for about an hour after work - so? I think the friendship is fine. I have made him feel like shit as a boss, though. But I've worked under him (heh, wishful turn of phrase) for almost a year and have never been 'insubordinate' towards him other than the audhd urge to tell him no while I'm doing the thing he's asked me to do.

But right so if these are my first thoughts

That feels unhealthy?

I've messed up, please forgive me no matter what it takes

It takes me back to dating J. I blew up on him twice in two years, but it was deserved. Then after the first time, he saw how easily manipulated I could be. And any time he didn't get his way, he pouted and made me feel guilty. And I'd tell him I was sorry and I'd do better.

I don't remember doing this to my mom because she was kind of a bitch and I've blocked out most of my childhood.

But like is this a trauma issue or an 'I'm just a bitch' issue?

Or? Is it an 'I don't have friends and this is just how normal people feel when they actually hurt someone' issue?

I think that's the one, and I think the trauma issue comes in the form of me wanting to continuously tell him how sorry I am and how I'll do better, and I'll fix it. So I think it's coming from two places.

Any who

I like him a lot as a person and I feel bad for treating him poorly

And I like him in an I'm attracted to him kind of way - but I think that's going away a little because I'm tired of trying so hard all the time to be good enough for him so that he might eventually also like me in the same way I like him. And this is growth. It's a small step out of de lu lu land.

Like people at work say he looks at me in that way (the way the guy looks at the oblivious girl in romcoms and disney movies) but nothing is going to come of this as long as we work together and as long as he is still pining over all the ones who got away. And I'm comfortable enough admitting that.

Also. He's slept with 23 women. And I'm not a slut shamer and I don't care how many people other people sleep with. But I've slept with 2. And a couple halves. I never know if I'm supposed to count blow jobs or not because if so it's actually 4. And I feel like if anything were to happen between us it might be weird. He told me once before and once recently that he..well I don't remember his exact words. But he's basically told me thst most of his downtime was having sex or masturbating and he didn't like that about himself and he's been trying not to do either. And I don't know why he tells me this stuff.

I probably think into it far too much.

I'm going to try to force myself to go to sleep because I feel so sick right now. And if I'm asleep maybe I'll feel better 😬

So basically this is all to say fuck having friends at work is hard especially when you fall for them.

#personal #the void #the guy at work

[kirstenlinae]

Monday Night Ramblings

I have about 20 minutes before I have to pick up my boyfriend from work. I've been looking forward to making a post all day but, I'm having trouble deciding what to write about...

I accepted my first job offer today for the work-at-home position. I asked to see their benefits package before I submitted my response to their offer letter. I had my mom look them over for me. She said that they seemed like good benefits. I know that the health insurance company is the same as my Medicaid plan so, hopefully that means they will cover my surgery. If I truly take that job. I have 4 other interviews this week and one next week for jobs that I will probably be more interested over and above the one I accepted today. Their training starts on Nov. 7th, though so, I'm kind of under pressure to make a decision quickly. As for my two week notice to my jobs right now, that basically isn't going to happen if I take this work-at-home job. My two weeks notice would have had to have been submitted today. I don't want to resign from my other jobs until 1) I pass a drug test and 2) I see if any of these other jobs pan out. We will see how it all shakes out, I guess. I can't be twisted up in formalities if more lucrative opportunities present themselves.

I am tired today. I did spend 6 hours cleaning so, I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself. I was thinking about riding my bike for some additional exercise besides the cleaning but, my back really hurts today. It's not even a muscle thing, it's my sciatic nerve, I think so you can't do anything to rub that bitch out. I bought a hoodie online from Torrid, which essentially maxes out that credit card (Oops ><) and I went to Kohls and bought another hoodie because I had $20 in Kohls Cash to spend this week. I really needed some nice hoodies. I haven't bought any in a long time. In fact, I think I only have two right now and one is old and dusty. No appropriate to wear out in public. The other one is bright highlighter pink with a V-neck. Not my favorite piece of clothing my any means. I also attended an online OA meeting. Nothing special to report there. It wasn't an awesome meeting but, it did remind me of a recovery tool I was taught by my mentor years ago that I feel I should implement into my current recovery plan. More on that later, if I remember.

Either the dude outside my window has COVID or he doesn't know how to smoke weed or cigarettes or something because every couple of hours he'll come outside and hack his lungs out for a half hour straight and then go back inside. It's honestly very annoying. I never understood people to continued to smoke cigarettes when they're sick. When I smoked, I always had to stop when I was in the thick of my illness, even if I started right back up afterwards, I could never bare to sit there and cough up a lung for the sake of my nicotine addiction. People are weird. I wish I could yell "SHUT THE FUCK UP" out my window but, I'm not trying to live my life like that anymore lol.

If you read my ramblings, thanks. I know this isn't the best post I've ever made.

Until next time <3

#journal #personal

[atypicalwtrmln]

gonna do a tour of my older-ish paintings no one asked for :D

painting is one of those little things i do to take my mind of things that stress me out by giving me something else to stress me out! /j

i dont do canvas paintings, realistic paintings, or anything like that (props to you if you do because i could never), what i do is use household items (90% cardboard) to do 3d/layered art! i am completely self taught and have been painting this way for probably just over a year

i feel like its worth mentioning that i dont think there is a single painting ive ever done ever that has gone exactly how i wanted it to, i am definitely far from a professional its just a fun little thing i like to do and am proud of sometimes

also it should be noted that every single painter is automatically super awesome and cool unless they're a bad person

im done rambling now lets go

warning that these are all gonna have terrible lighting because i really dont feel like doing anything fancy

my enderman painting is probably the oldest thing i have still displayed. i clearly wasn't being very ambitious with this one lol. i actually highly recommend starting out painting with pixel art because its really simple and all you need to do is basically make a grid and make yourself your own paint by number. i used badly placed scotch tape and it bled through quite a bit

some more minecraft paintings ft. the enderman. i'm pretty sure i did the totem before the zombie pigman and you can kind of tell because of how messy it is. i guess i was just really lazy that day and didnt feel like using tape, but it actually looks pretty cool from afar. the zombie pigman took way longer to do than i thought it would because with the tape i was using, i had to wait for all like twelve colors to each dry individually. those three were all made in *i want to say may* of last year, and the mushroom i made a few months ago just when i was bored and didnt want to do anything super ambitious.

last painting with just one layer, look at me go! /lh i swear this is one of the last minecraft ones, stay with me. im not actually super proud of this one haha, the colors are all off and i didnt use tape but i keep it for two reasons. one: i have nothing else to put there. two: cutting it out took ages. its kind of hard to display since its such a weird shape but its growing on me so i dont think ill be taking it down soon.

last minecraft thing woooooo. this is actually a painting of my minecraft skin's face. im pretty sure i actually made this *after* the paintings im about to show later but shhhhh i want all the minecraft stuff to be together. the top layer is actually what the outer layer is on my skin (which in my opinion is a nice touch). dont even ask why i cut out the eyes, i really wish i didnt do that lol i guess i just thought itd be funny to be able to put it up to my face. i thinkkkk i made this in either december or january.

before we visit my pride and joy, heres what i like to call my painting baseball cards. these are just some small paintings i made in two nights over christmas break. fun fact: originally the background for both were purple, but that was really ugly so i went over it in black. i really should make some more lemon demon paintings considering all the will wood things i have, but we'll see. definitely not my favorite of my paintings lol but i could never get rid of them.

MY PRIDE AND JOY!!!! my sun is right up there with my tomcat disposables painting for my favorites ive ever made. my sun and moon took around 10 hours to do each, and god was it worth it. i put my blood sweat and tears into them and sundrop turned out great. moon's right cheek is wonky and it bothers me every time i see it but i still love them. they were so so fun to make and i could gush about them for hours. the little things that you cant really see because of my lighting make me so proud of them. i definitely took some creative liberties here and there, especially with the colors and the little details, but im glad i did and i wouldn't have them any other way (except that i would move moon's right cheek down a little bit because its physically painful for me/j). these two were 100% the start of a new era of my art style with the layers like how it is in the game. i might make a whole other post just talking about them. but yeah, four days of hyperfocus well spent.

thats it, if you read through this whole thing ily mwah. i find people talking about making their art super interesting, i might ask to do this more and not wait for an answer :)

ily little gay people in my phone have a great day happy pride month

#i have a lot of things to say about painting so what better place than tumblr because im sure my irls are really tired of me by now LMAO #kinda nervous to post this ngl but hey its fun for me to talk about something im passionate about :))

[dinolikes]

SHOTO, KATSUKI AND IZUKU S/O CRIES AFTER BEING YELLED AT

pairings ❤︎ shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugo, izuku midoriya x reader

plot ❤︎ they raise their voice at you and regret it instantly

warnings ❤︎ cursing, soft angst

notes ❤︎ me: im gonna post every weekend!! also me: completely forgets until sunday and then saves as a draft instead of publishing

he yells at lot as we know

just not at you. you were usually off limits.

yet he was pissed about how half 'n half beat him in a match and you just kept asking him what was wrong that he snapped

the second he sees the tears in ur eyes the dude freezes

he takes a second to respond, he genuinely doesn't know what to do

"shit shit shit don't cry-!"

rushes to your side though it doesn't really do anything?

do you want him to touch you? do you want him to speak? do you want him to apologize or would that make you feel worse

"im s-sorry-" you hiccup and katsuki let's his instincts take over

he engulfed you in a hug, "why are you apologizing dumbass?! im the one that made you fucking cry!"

he feels like shit tbh

he doesn't speak much? he's scared he's gonna say something to hurt you again but if you want he'll ramble about whatever to calm you down

he mostly cuddles you tbh and the next couple days he's really affectionate

or as affectionate as katsuki could be

he's always holding your hand and he'll occasionally wrap his hand around your waist if he thinks about it again, he doesn't really care if it's in front of people or not like he usually does

never technically apologizes

probably something with his dad

he wanted to talk about it but he wouldn't let himself admit that, leaving him on edge and agitated

so when you kept on talking and talking when he was trying to read a book he snapped

"can you shut up?" his voice stayed monotone even if it sounded a bit sharper then usual, which made it even worse

"o-oh. ok."

he went back to rereading the same paragraph again but his head snapped up when he heard sniffles from you

he made you cry.

fuck.

freezes like bakugo but for a lot longer

literally terrified. he doesnt ever want to be his father and this situation makes him feel a little too much like him for his liking

it's a bit awkward? you're crying and hes just sitting there staring at you lol

eventually he gets to his senses and walks over to you

"can...can i touch you?"

you slowly nod as you attempt to wipe some tears only for them to quickly be replaced with new ones

wraps you up in his arms and gives you a bunch of forehead kisses

apologizes immediately and won't stop

he's afraid to touch you for a while after, he's literally so disappointed in himself

you assured him that you're fine but he still had his doubts

he literally never raises his voice again but he does tell you whats wrong

it turns into you comforting eachother tbh

he was just stressed and it slipped out, he didn't know where it came from!

you're not even crying before he starts apologizing

he never raised his voice but of course the one time he does its to the love of his life

"im so sorry! i swear! it'll never happen again im so sorry love!"

he's like a koala because he's latching onto you

his heart literally breaks at the sight of you crying and he does whatever he can to make them stop

he tells you jokes, compliments you, etc...

he's completely freaking out tbh

and im not kidding, this dude won't stop apologizing.

it's an hour later and you've calmed down, you're both watching a movie and he'll randomly go "im really sorry baby"

and the next day he give you a gift

you keep having to tell him you're alright but he'll still feel bad

he probably cries too tbh lmao

neither of you let go of eachother for a good 3 hours, both hugging and taking turns giving eachother kisses

"i love you, so so much, and ill never ever ever yell again"

#mha imagines #mha headcanons #bnha #mha bakugo #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #deku midoriya #midoriya izuku #deku x reader #deku x you #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x you