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#NO miscommunication NO excuses
kenziezie · 9 months
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VILE piece for today (i do not own a blender i apologize if it looks whack)
also i'm editing this, i did not realize this was whump until i was told it was whump, so be aware you will see more of this!! i'm sorry if this is too intense for some people ;v;
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realbeefman · 9 months
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i think about this scene constantly. this is probably the only time they’ve both been totally genuine and honest with each other ever. and they still don’t understand each other.
charlie has always loved the idea of her more than her. arguably their most romantic moment before this occurs in jersey shore, when she’s very literally not herself.
to the waitress, charlie isn’t just saying “i love you.” he’s said that he loves her thousands of times before. to her it’s deeper than that. to her he’s saying, “i love you (for the person that you are. i know your flaws and i love you in spite of them. i always will, no matter what you do, no matter how badly you fuck up)” and to a person as chronically lonely as the waitress is, who has been rejected and humiliated by her lovers time and time again, that’s everything she needs to hear.
and of course, on some level, this is what charlie thinks he means as well. but his “i love you” carries no more weight than the other thousands of times he’s said it to her. in saves the day, charlie’s ideal world is a satirized version of the stereotypical nuclear family, because charlie genuinely believes that that’s the life he wants.
like most of the gang, charlie’s adherence to social roles and expectations are inconsistent, even as he professes to believe strongly in their value. he is a proud american when it suits him, he is willing to be a father when it benefits him, and he is interested in the waitress only when it suits him to be interested in her. the waitress isn’t anybody special; she’s an attractive woman that charlie has decided is the epitome of everything he should be.
this is why jersey shore is the peak of their romantic relationship. because ultimately, while charlie is willing to and, at times, actively wants to love her, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that he doesn’t even like her.
he puts vitamins in her shampoo. he gets her fired from jobs he doesn’t like, and protects her on jobs he approves of (most blatant example of this is when he barks at a passing stranger who might steal her bike when she’s delivering indian food vs literally trying to have her stabbed at the fair). he is constantly trying to make her into somebody he likes being around.
to charlie, this “i love you” is just a statement of fact. loving her is something he should do, so he does. it’s yet another frivolous idea that has passed through his imagination, of no more real significance to charlie’s core identity than being a patriot is. to the waitress, this “i love you” is the only one that has ever mattered, to her, this is a breakthrough moment in which she finally, finally understands and connects with this man who has been stalking her for more than a decade.
it makes it hit all the harder when she realizes, when all is said and done, that she still doesn’t understand him at all.
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kaeyachi · 10 months
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Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery... a lot.
He has multiple reasons and excuses that change every time he is greeted by Adelinde.
An investigation on the Darknight hero.
A mission he received from Jean.
A short detour from his patrols.
One time, all he did was ask for a glass of wine before he went his merry way.
Another, he spent a bit more time within the building, creating jam with Adelinde.
Diluc occasionally catches the man approaching the winery from a distance. If he was lucky enough to evade Kaeya's attention, he would send Adelinde to talk to the cavalry captain in his stead. As for the other times, Kaeya would glance up to meet his eyes from where the cavalry captain was standing by the entrance - thru his tinted windows somehow. The younger man's eyes would be glinting mischievously, his ever-present smirk slowly growing on his face.
"Gotcha," his face seemed to imply.
Diluc simply huffs in frustration before leaving his room to spend a couple of moments bantering with the other.
Diluc knows how frequent Kaeya's visits were. He fully expects at least 2 visits in a week...
...The idea that Kaeya frequently visits but never stays... leaves a bitter taste in Diluc's mouth.
Kaeya himself had said that Dawn Winery was his home. If he thought so, why was he always doling out excuses just to be here?
Doesn't Kaeya know he is welcome any time?
Does Kaeya know he could stay?
.
.
.
Like clockwork, Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery.
This time, Kaeya manages to meet his eyes- thru the tinted windows somehow.
Diluc huffs, leaves his room, and meets the other by the entrance.
Kaeya tries to give an excuse for his visit.
Diluc interrupts by saying "you don't need a reason to come home".
.
.
.
'Gotcha' Diluc thinks. He feels as if he won something upon being met by Kaeya's stunned face and hearing Adelinde's giggles at the background.
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antrunner · 1 year
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this idea came to me in a dream
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bl33ditout · 3 days
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not sure who needs to hear this but anger is not inherently a "problematic" emotion and it shouldn't always be categorized as a "toxic trait" for narcissism or abusers
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meimeiherokitten · 4 months
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Ever do something silly and find it was the best thing ever? This is series is possibly one of my favorite things I've written, has actual rabid fans, and spawned a sequel and 2 bonus chapters. Possibly more to come? But for something I almost didn't write, and was done on a whim, this became an amazingly fun ride!
Welcome to the Our Flag Means Renfaire universe! Please read and enjoy and give kudos and comments and luv!
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I petition for a jealous samwise gamgee x reader fic. I've requested this before but I don't know what happened to it. I love you and your work sincerely hope a fun time writing for you. Goodluck godbless
A/N: Hello lovely, you are absolutely right that you requested this quite some time ago. I lost it in the shuffle of things (rip my accidentally deleted wip list) and it completely slipped my mind! I hope you will forgive me, and enjoy :) Word Count: 2255 Rating: G - flirting, jealousy, alcohol
Samwise Gamgee was the sort to drive girls mad. He was sweet, in a bumbling sort of way, always ready with a shy smile or a stumbled verse, and gentle, and steady. He knew the value of an honest day's work, and he was always there to support his friends, figuratively or, after a long night at the Green Dragon, literally, making sure they made it safely to bed and had water and a soothing herbal tea ready when they woke with a horrible hangover. 
Though you weren't as close with him as Master Frodo Baggins (no one in all the Shire was) you were lucky enough to count yourself among Sam's dearest friends, and had been all your life on account of your father's sister being thick as thieves with the Gaffer's late wife, Sam's dear mother. And you would be lying if you said your heart didn't flutter like a dove when his soft blue eyes turned on you, not staring exactly but making it clear that he was listening with undivided attention. But you knew his own lay with pretty, sweet, golden-curled Rosie Cotton, another one of your dear friends, and never desired to interfere, placing both their happiness above your own.
~
You giggled, bringing a hand to your mouth to hide your smile as a younger Bracegirdles — of Hardbottle, as opposed to some lesser Bracegirdle cousin that might be out there in theory somewhere — whispered a joke into your ear, ostensibly in order to be heard over the noise of the crowd’s singing and the band in the corner, but you were pretty sure it was in part to try to make you blush. They had been rather attentive to you in the past few weeks, and though you had no real interest in courting them, you welcomed the attention, it was nice to feel wanted after all.
Even if, you thought bitterly, it wasn’t by the person you would have hoped. Your eyes fell to him in the crowd, sitting in a corner and nursing a drink while Frodo and his cousin Pippin Took and their friend Merry all swayed and sang along to the music, cajoling Sam to join in. He looked miserable, frowning at his drink as if he thought to find the Gaffer’s fertilizer floating in it, and your heart ached to go to him and try to put a smile on his face. But you were not Rosie, who wasn’t working tonight (which you were sure was the cause of his obvious foul mood), so you stood no more chance than the lads did.
When your proffered paramour suggested they go to get you a second ale, you heartily agreed, despite having not finished the first, if only to get a moment’s peace from their attentions. You couldn’t help a sigh of relief as they swaggered off, which quickly turned to a gasp of surprise when a new hobbit appeared at your elbow.
“Oh! Sam!” you said, reflexively pressing a hand to your chest as if to hold in your racing heart, “I didn’t see you there.” 
“You and Leopold are looking awfully chummy,” he said glumly in place of a greeting.
You frowned, eyebrows dipping low. You hadn’t even remembered his first name until that moment. But he was right that you had been taking the affection where you could, even if it really meant nothing to you and you wouldn’t think on it again once you were home safely in your family’s hobbit hole for the night, and you worried for a moment that you might be giving the wrong idea.
“He’s quite nice, for a Bracegirdle,” you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know him better, is there?”
“Getting to know him better?” Sam scoffed, sounding almost angry with the prospect, and making your puzzled feeling sink further in. “The way he was hanging on you, have you set a wedding date yet?”
“Excuse me?” Now you were getting upset, and set your drink down heavily on the table so that you could turn to Sam more fully, hands planted on your hips. 
“I’m just saying, as it were, that you were a lot more chummy with him than most people.” Even in the smoky taproom you could tell that his cheeks were reddening and he stumbled over his words. “It was practically flirting. Ain’t nothing wrong with it, but that it’s fast. I’ve never seen you talking to him before, and…and…” he trailed off.
“And what, Sam?” you demanded, feeling your own anger and embarrassment heating at the back of your neck. “You’re not my father, and it’s hardly any of your business who I might be talking to, especially when your attention is so focused elsewhere. How do you know it’s my first time talking to Leonard, when you’re always distracted moon-eying after Rosie?”
“Leopold,” the hobbit in question said suddenly, stepping between you and Sam to place the drinks on the table, and then withdrawing, a dejected expression marring his features that had been so lively earlier. You knew you should feel guiltier, but you were distracted by your own indignation, and the strange way that Sam was looking at you. 
“I…” Sam stared open-mouthed at you for a moment longer before turning and fleeing, back to the safety of his friends in the corner and leaving you alone and humiliated. 
With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you drained your first tankard and left the second on the table, walking out of the Green Dragon in the hopes that the cool evening would soothe your temper.
~
You didn’t see Sam for several days after that, though you did occasionally catch glimpses of Merry and Pippin, usually looking over at you and then ducking their heads together conspiratorially and giggling. It felt odd, being in this unspoken fight with your best friend, but your pride stopped you from being the first to apologize. After all, you hadn’t done anything wrong but try to move on from the unrequited love you felt for him. 
As the sun began to set and the spring evening air grew chilly, you set down your sewing and sighed, placing your face in your hands to scrub away the tiredness. Soon you would have to move inside and light a candle if you were going to continue working, and the prospect felt miserable, another night spent alone. 
Suddenly, you felt your basket snatched away from where it sat by your feet, and looked up just in time to see someone — you didn’t want to accuse or assume, but at least one of them was finely dressed for being a hobbit, and his dark hair was wild in a way that only Frodo’s could be described as — disappear around the corner of the lane with your things. With a cry of outrage and surprise, you stood quickly, gathering your skirts at your hip, not caring that your bloomers showed since there was no one around, and chased after them. 
The lanes were empty and it shocked you how refreshing it felt to simply race along them, the cool evening air kissing your cheeks and toying with your hair. Your eyes didn’t ache from squinting at stitches, your hands didn’t ache from where the needle slipped, and most importantly, your heart didn’t ache for all the love you thought you lost. 
And then the ache you felt was much more real as you crashed headlong into someone else. 
“Woah, careful,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you, and unintentionally drawing your faces close. “Are you alright?”
Your cheeks heated rapidly as you stared into those concerned blue eyes, and words failed you for a moment.
“Oh, hi Sam. Sorry. I was just–” you realized that you were still holding your skirts, bloomers exposed for all the world, and more importantly him, to see. Your face felt like it was on fire as you dropped the gathered cloth and stumbled back to smooth it down, the motion catching his attention and causing his ears and cheeks to turn pink. 
“What’s got you in such a hurry?” he smiled shyly at you, though the rest of his face remained puzzled and you had to fight back a laugh at his endearing expression. 
“Someone thought tonight was a good night for pranks, so I’m trying to get my sewing back. I didn’t mean to bump into you…”
“Oh, how odd. My gardening gloves also grew legs. But I figured they’d get bored eventually. Yours went a bit farther though, I don’t blame you for running.”
As you spoke, you heard giggling from around the corner that confirmed your earlier suspicions of the three culprits. But instead of being angry, you couldn’t help being grateful. This conversation, stilted though it was, felt so much better than the days of silence, enough that you were ready to swallow your pride to make sure it continued.
“Listen, Sam,” you found yourself unable to look at him, instead studying the rocks on the path between you while you spoke. “About the other day…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he assured you, looking sheepish. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad…”
“Why…why did you?” your voice was soft, hesitant. 
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.” Your heart raced like a bird beating against your chest, trying to escape your ribcage. You knew what you wanted the answer to be, but it almost felt like too much to hope. 
“I…well I was jealous…of Leopold.” His cheeks were as red as the Gaffer’s prize tomatoes and you felt your eyes widen. 
“Wait, what? Why would you ever be…?”
“The way he was making you laugh, and how light and happy and beautiful you were. I wanted to be the one doing that.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. You’ve been my best friend for our whole lives.”
“Oh.” Of course that was what it was. You felt your heart sink. Sam had always felt strongly for all of the people in his life, it was one of his best features, and so seeing you having fun with someone else, especially while he was miserably longing for Rosie instead would hurt him. Of course. 
“And then when you said something about Rosie, I got so angry.” He bit his lip and then rushed to add. “At myself of course, not at you. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. And then, I guess I was embarrassed.” 
“I don’t understand.” 
“Well it’s just…there I was getting jealous and upset when I had never said anything, and given you all the wrong ideas, and I had no right to that, and I felt foolish, and didn’t know how to fix it.” 
“Wrong ideas? Said anything? Sam, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to confess that you’re in love with me. But surely that’s not the case, so I must be missing something, and need you to be clearer.” Your laugh as you spoke was high and forced, but it was all you could do.
Sam sighed and shook his head, stepping close and raising a hand to try and cradle the back of your head. You startled, stumbling back from him, eyes wide and heart racing even faster if that was possible.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“Will you just trust me for a second?”
“I always trust you,” you said earnestly, relaxing as he reached again to touch you. 
A breath later, his lips were brushing yours, and one of his hands was cradling the back of your neck, fingertips in your hair, and his other hand was holding yours. Your skin lit up, feeling like a thousand of Gandalf’s fireworks were sparking where Sam touched you.
“Oh.” You breathed when he pulled away, all too soon. 
“Now do you understand? I love you, I’ve always loved you.” 
“But what about Rosie…?” you wanted to kick yourself, but your mind hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of reality, so it tumbled out. 
Thankfully, he laughed, the sound bright and beautiful and making your poor heart do a flip. “Rosie’s just a friend. Didn’t it ever occur to you that every time I was looking in her direction ‘moon-eyed’ it was because you were right beside her?”
It hadn’t.
“Oh Sam, I’m sorry. I never thought…I mean I wished but…” you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you smiled at him. When he smiled back just as bright, the world felt clearer and sharper than it had in a long time. “I love you too. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Don’t be. We were both fools, and it’s past now. We can make up for the time, if you’ll let me court you?”
“I would like nothing more.” You threaded your fingers with his, stepping close in the hopes of kissing him again.
But alas, it didn’t come, the moment interrupted by whoops of delight as Pippin, Merry, and Frodo, and to your shock Rosie herself, all burst from the bushes where they’d been hiding with your purloined things. You couldn’t help but laugh as they threw their arms around you and Sam in a messy group hug before tugging you both down the road toward the Green Dragon for a celebratory drink.  Kissing and courting would have to wait, but at least, with your hand in his, you knew that it wouldn’t be only in your dreams.
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bisexualdinahlance · 22 days
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One day I'm gonna write the pimms/jackparse canon adjacent fic of my dreams where during Jack's rehab therapy they start exchanging letters and then emails as part of the healing process and this evolves into an off and on friendship then relationship that lasts throughout canon
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retro-system · 1 year
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lookin through kaorin's favourite book she borrowed from astronomy club
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kraviolis · 10 months
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bbmc's whole goddamn problem is that they talk too much. they just talk in circles. they talk in riddles. they restate whats already been said like 70 times and the wording gets worse every time. and i dont mean this in a *dundee voice* "soy boy snowflake wahh my feelings" way, they just use way too many words for what can be said in a few words.
someone needs to give them communication 101 classes from a therapist. a team of therapists. where the fuck is the "i" statements. these assholes are all absolutely convinced their perception is the Correct and True one. it causes so much fuckin needless abrasion. i think dundee and barry and everyone need to get over their fear of emotions bcus its actively making all of them weaker.
theyre all like "grrrr emotions weigh you down emotions get you killed emotions make you soft and weak" but theyre also fucking idiots who dont realize that theyre never gonna be emotionless their emotions are already weighing them down and holding them back and making them all weaker.
its because they arent letting them fucking go. none of them have the balls to look at their emotions head on and acknowledge how they feel & why they feel that way and they ESPECIALLY dont have the balls to let that shit go. instead of doing that, they just talk to each other in codes and riddles that allude to how theyre feeling instead of just being fuckin honest and blunt.
they need to treat their emotions like theyre giving comms during a shootout or a heist or some shit. that way they can stay honest while also not enabling miscommunication by trying to overexplain or justify their own thoughts and feelings to their own family.
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ghostly-roses · 11 months
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I made a fic!
Cartoon Zelink
Summary: After catching Link flirting with another girl, Zelda finds a new way of shutting his ever running mouth.
Rating: T (for swearing)
Tropes: Miscommunication, Fluff
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everwisp · 1 year
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since it’s valentines, here’s my a3 yumes meet cute with their respective partner:
Nanami & Juza🧋🍰
she heard about Juza before meeting him from her best friend Banri, the blonde would complain about the O-high student every chance he gets and Nanami was forced to suffer through most of it (even patching him up sometimes)
she does see him in person although it’s only up on stage, and she won’t lie she did find him pretty cute
she tells Banri so a day after she caught a show of Picaresque and his face scrunches up in reply. “You can do better than him, Nanami.”
she laughs and waves him off, she doubted that anything was going to happen
they don’t meet until they’re both in Yosei, Nanami was waiting for class to start when she receives a rather cryptic message from Banri
“Giving you a heads up, just in case”
She raises an eyebrow at that and was in the She of typing out her reply when a familiar face walks in her class room: Juza Hyodo
“Banri, why did Juza Hyodo just walk in my classroom?” “Why else stupid? Obviously for class,” “????!?!?” “I did send you a heads up.”“BANRI” “Lol just ignore him.”
as the days go on she realizes that they share most of their classes together and that most of their classmates are afraid of him, she can’t have that
she’s not intimidated by him in the slightest and so she didn’t even hesitate when she sits next to him during a lecture
he looks at her curiously and a little dumbfounded, she can’t help but smile at how adorable he looked
she continues sitting next to him despite his puzzled looks and she always just responds with a smile
Nanami doesn’t make the first move to talk with him, not wanting to pressure him into talking with her. (Banri complained about Juza being a man of few words and being so quiet that she figured Juza was just shy)
it takes a couple of more days until Juza finally speaks to her, asking about something a professor said and she can’t stop the giddiness she feels
from then on, the two of them talk with each other while waiting for class or after
well, it’s more like Nanami does all the talking while Juza listens and chimes in every now and then but it’s fine. Nanami doesn’t mind at all, she’s just glad to see him relaxed
Kohana & Guy 💐🍵
you would think that they’d meet through Tsumugi or Tasuku given that she was their childhood friend, but that isn’t the case. They meet by accident, a couple of weeks before the Winter Troupe starts rehearsals for Phantom
Guy was walking by the river when a couple of yellow flowers fall on top of him
It bounces off his head and into his hands, he’s a little confused until he hears a female voice call out to him
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that!”
he looks up and sees her on the bridge, leaning over the railings with a slightly panicked and apologetic face, her eyes flicker to the river and he follows her gaze to see a bouquet floating in the water
Guy stares at it for a moment before his legs start moving towards the bouquet to save it, luckily it was near the edge but his sleeves do get kinda wet
once he’s managed to retrieve it, he shakes the water off the bouquet as gently as he can before handing it over to the girl who meets him halfway the slope of the riverside
He offers the bouquet to her “I believe this is yours. I apologize, I did my best to keep them from getting damaged even more.”
She smiles at him bashfully and takes the bouquet into her arm, “Thank you but you didn’t have to do that. Look at you, you’re soaked now.”
she offers to pay for the dry cleaning and he respectfully declines, stating that it was no bother and it’ll dry off throughout the day
but of course Kohana still feels a little guilty so she offers him some tea back in her shop
they share a pleasant afternoon together and although Guy isn’t that well versed in expressing himself just yet, it didn’t seem to bother Kohana at all
when Guy sees it’s getting late, he says his goodbyes and thanks her for the tea
Kohana stops him at the door and presents him three stems of a white flower all wrapped up “Please take this as a token of my appreciation for helping me out and keeping me company.”, she says with a smile and Guy accepts them with a nod and a good evening.
Mizuki & Omi 🐰🐺
so these two, they actually met when they were young
Mizuki was kidnapped when she was 11 as she was the niece of the Gisenkai head, so you could imagine just how much people were sent out to look for her (fortunately they found her at the end of the day)
it was actually Omi who found her first, locked up in an abandoned house in the woods, he had been exploring and was on his way home when he spotted a man creeping around
sensing that something wasn’t right, Omi tailed him and was surprised by what he found
he knew he should’ve called the police but he didn’t feel comfortable in leaving the girl so he made some noises outside, making sure to stay hidden as he lured the man away from the warehouse before heading back to sneak the girl out. He the brought her to the police station and that was that
I don’t think Mizuki would remember him since it was quite the traumatizing experience while Omi on the other hand would probably remember her but like he doesn’t realize right away that she’s the girl he rescued
they reunite the same way they met, with Omi rescuing her except this time it’s from some creep following her
he was getting a picture of the street’s scenery when she suddenly appeared in his viewfinder, the picture being taken just as she turned to face him; his breath hitching at the sight of her
her eyes lit up at him and a tentative smile made its way on her face as she approached him, “There you are darling, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
his heart stutters and he lowers his camera to look at the girl directly, cyan eyes meeting amber
he purses his lips, an apology about to come out when he spots a man hiding behind a street light. Oh.
Omi smiles at the girl sheepishly and takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly, “I’m sorry, I got caught up taking photos. Did I make you wait long?”
her eyes light up in relief and she relaxes as she chuckles a little nervously, “Perhaps. You always do get a little distracted with that camera of yours…”
“Not as distracted when it comes to you,” he returns with a charming smile and slips an arm around her shoulder, leading her away. “Come on, I’ll make it up to you.”
they introduce theirselves to one another later once Omi deems that the man was no longer following them and Mizuki treats him to coffee as a sign of gratitude
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stxend · 4 months
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"how on earth do you like miscommunication in stories" see i like when characters suffer emotionally and it's their own damn fault
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actiniumwrites · 7 months
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𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇
synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself
characters: wriothesley x gn!reader
wc: 1.4k
warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc
notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here
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“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.
His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.
Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”
“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.
Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”
Damn him.
You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.
“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.
“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”
You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”
“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.
No, you idiot. It’s you.
You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”
“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”
Damn it, he got you again!
You don’t answer him.
“Not even going to try to deny it?”
“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”
He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”
You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”
He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”
“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”
Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”
You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”
“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.
You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”
“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”
“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
You really hope he doesn’t.
The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.
“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.
A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”
No way. Did he figure it out?
Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.
His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.
He doesn’t feel the same way.
“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”
Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”
He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”
“Something is seriously wrong with you.”
“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”
“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”
A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”
You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”
His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”
“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”
“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.
You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”
He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.
“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.
You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.
The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”
Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”
Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”
He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”
“You are so annoying.”
“Only for you, sweetheart.”
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kazifatagar · 1 year
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Samsuri Blames Miscommunication For Absence During Anwar Visit
There are many theories on why the leaders of the PAS in Terengganu did not show their face while PM Anwar Ibrahim visited Terengganu last week, and one of the reasons given by the MB of Terengganu Datuk Seri Ahmad Samsuri Mokhtar himself is ‘miscommunication‘. During the Anwar visit to the Terengganu’s Palace to meet the Sultan, there were not a single members of the Exco of the state present.…
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wilwheaton · 11 months
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fuck you pat robertson
Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.
The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.
"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."
Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!
The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."
The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."
Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.
After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.
"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"
"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."
Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.
They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.
Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.
"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"
The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."
"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"
The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."
A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.
Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.
In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.
Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.
One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."
And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.
The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.
The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.
The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.
Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.
A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.
And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.
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